toomanytookas

[toomanytookas]

i absolutely agree that xreader can be so healing and promote self love and acceptance in unique and powerful ways but also it lets you fuck nasty with your faves and i think that is just so beautiful

#yep yep yep #commonplace book clippings

[toomanytookas]

Ok, not that I'm actually a grinch, but this line definitely did make my made my heart grow multiple sizes:

"Ellie was teasing you. In front of Joel. Something had gone right, after all."

This chapter was so, so wonderful Kate. As always, I adore how you capture Ellie's sass and precociousness that leads to protectiveness (that "I was there, you know" oh my god), and it was so fun to see it funneled into her interrogation of Joel.

And of course Joel was so gentle and dad-ish about it. The questions he asked her were clearly so perfect for her comfort level, and he obviously wanted to make a good impression but was very truthful when she started asking heavier questions, which I’m sure Ellie appreciated.

Also though I LOVED that moment where he asserted his and the reader’s right to privacy as a couple and set a boundary that the reader could decide later about whether to cross or not. It was so well navigated and really really respectful and I’m running out of coherent words, but it really stuck with me.

Excited to see the reader’s sister make an appearance, too!

I can’t believe how close to the end we are getting! I am savouring and enjoying every moment with them that you share with us. 🧡

Maintenance Request Chapter 20

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 3.3k

chapter summary: when Joel met Ellie 👀

a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕

chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, food and drink mention, pet names (honey, gorgeous, darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, handsome, cowboy), tricky conversations, typical Ellie bluntness

Chapter 20

Saturday, November 16 Twelfth week of the semester

In the week leading up to The Meeting, as Beth had been calling it for days (in a ridiculously deep, dramatic voice), you were nervous. You knew Joel was a good guy, and you wanted Ellie to like him. But you wanted her to like him on her own, not because you pushed her, or because she felt like she had to for you. 

Beth joined you and Joel for lunch by the psych building on Friday, even though your schedules only overlapped for 30 minutes. Afterwards she blew up the group chat you had with Ellie with her review (“He’s pathetically into your aunt, like it’s written all over his face. He seems like a good one”). You got the go ahead from your sister (who was working that weekend), which wasn’t actually difficult but you were glad to have it anyway. 

By Saturday, you were so nervous you googled breathing exercises on your phone while you waited for Beth and Ellie to come pick you up. Joel was going to meet you at the restaurant, after Tommy picked up Sarah to take her to soccer practice. You tried to tell yourself not to be nervous but it didn’t work. You felt like you actually had plenty to be nervous about, so you couldn’t trick yourself out of it.

You were in the process of breathing in 1-2-3-4 and holding it when your phone buzzed with a text from Ellie saying they were outside. You released your breath and took one more deep one before gathering yourself to leave.

Ellie was in the front seat of Beth’s car and stuck her tongue out at you, so you rolled your eyes and got in the back.

“Morning,” you said as you slid into the seat.

“Morning!” Beth sounded cheery, at least. “Here we go!” You sighed and tried to force the muscles in your back to relax. 

The brunch spot wasn’t far from your apartment, and during the ride there you poked at Ellie a little bit to try to gauge her mood. She seemed fine, if wary. That was probably the best you could have hoped for.

Joel was waiting for you outside of the restaurant when you arrived. He was looking pretty nervous himself. He had his hands in his pockets and he was trying to look casual, but his shoulders were tense.

“Hey, darlin,” he murmured as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Morning, Joel.” You smiled and gestured behind you. “You know Beth. And this is Ellie.”

Joel and Ellie looked at each other for a moment in silence. She was squinting at him fiercely and you could tell he was trying not to smile in response.

“Nice to meet you, Ellie.” Joel nodded at her and you were suddenly glad he seemed to intuit that offering a handshake was not a good idea. “Heard a lot about you from your aunt.”

“Hi,” she replied, eyes narrowed. “What did you hear?”

Joel couldn’t hold back the smile anymore. “Heard you made a pretty cool presentation about the Emu War. How’d that go?”

Ellie looked torn between her warring desires to give Joel the third degree or to monologue about the Emu War at any given opportunity. “Um, fine.” She visibly bit back something else and you sighed.

“Let’s go get a table and then maybe she’ll tell you all about it.” You gestured to the restaurant and Beth moved behind you to open the door.

“Bet I can recite your presentation from memory.” Beth grinned as she teased Ellie, who rolled her eyes.

“Bet me what? I bet you can’t.” Ellie crossed her arms as she entered the restaurant and you laughed.

“Hmm,” you heard Beth muse as you stepped up to the host station to get a table. “I’ll buy you another weird little guy of your choice.”

“Deal!” Ellie sounded gleeful. “Get ready to perform.”

You mentally thanked Beth for putting her more at ease in this unfamiliar situation as you all followed the host to a table and sat down. Joel sat next to you on your left, with Beth across from him and Ellie across from you.

Your conversation got stuck on the Emu War for a bit (Beth managed to postpone her performance and bet fulfillment until you weren’t in public) and you tried not to watch Joel and Ellie too closely. You realized you were twisting your hands together under the table when Joel reached over and gently laid his hand on top of yours, pulling them apart to tangle your fingers together and rest them on your thigh. You took a deep breath.

Before you could say anything, though, Ellie beat you to it.

“So, Joel. What are your intentions with my aunt?” She stared him down, eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed on the table in front of her. It sounded like she had rehearsed the question before asking it. Intentions, you mouthed to yourself. You caught Beth’s eye and realized your best friend was grinning. 

Joel squeezed your hand before he nodded and replied. “I’m serious about her, about us. I care about her a lot. I want to be good for her.”

Ellie hummed, and was briefly interrupted by your drinks arriving. She took a long sip of her orange juice.

“I have some questions.” She said it like she was throwing out a gauntlet. You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands.

Joel nodded, face serious. “Ask ‘em.”

And then rapid fire, she did.

“You have a kid, right? What happened to her mom?”

Joel didn’t even flinch. “She left, isn’t coming back. We weren’t together long. You’ll have to talk to Sarah for more details.”

Ellie squinted like maybe she wanted to ask a follow up, but proceeded to her next question. You were starting to suspect she’d made a list and wondered if she had it written down in one of her pockets.

“Have you ever been arrested?” You closed your eyes and took a long sip of your coffee.

“Not really. Got thrown into the drunk tank once and I wasn’t even drunk. My little brother was actin’ up in public, got us both in trouble.” You tried not to laugh at this new information about Tommy, even as you realized Joel had apparently chosen the path of extreme honesty. You didn’t want to interrupt Ellie’s interrogation but you wondered if there was a limit.

“Hmm. Ok. Have you ever done drugs?”

Joel shook his head. “Just smoked weed a few times in high school. Used to smoke cigarettes before Sarah was born. Quit when she came along.”

Ellie leaned back in her chair, hands tense on the edge of the table. “What’s your worst habit?”

Joel smirked. “Probably leavin’ my towel on the floor in the bathroom. And sometimes I’m a grouch.” You met Beth’s eyes and looked away sharply before you both could laugh. Joel pressed your clasped hands into your thigh, like somehow he knew you were struggling to hold it together.

“What’s your daughter’s favorite tv show?”

Joel grimaced. “She likes that dating show, the new one where they don’t see each other at first. I hate it.”

“Do you watch it with her?” Ellie raised her eyebrows. 

“Sometimes. She likes watchin’ it with Tommy better, he likes it more’n me. She says I bring down the vibe.” He shrugged.

“When’s the last time you had an argument with her?” 

Joel tilted his head, considering. “Maybe last week? Wasn’t really an argument. She made me drink some orange juice in the morning, said I can’t live off coffee alone. Or I guess maybe when she wanted to go to a sleepover but I wouldn’t let her. I haven’t met those parents yet. But you’d have to ask her what she thinks about it.”

You watched Ellie’s face carefully and could see that she was relaxing a bit. You could guess at her reasoning for some of these questions, but not all of them.

“Why do you like my aunt?”

Joel raised his eyebrows in response and Ellie raised hers right back, expression unchanged. “Well. Alright then. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and I love learning how she thinks and how she sees the world. She’s funny, been making me laugh since the first day we talked. She’s got good taste in music.” He glanced at you and smiled the little half smile that you loved. “And she cares about people. You can see it in the way she teaches, in how she talks to her students. She wants to help them. She gives so much of herself to everyone around her. I want to do the same for her.” You bit your lip as you felt a sudden tightness behind your eyes. He winked at you. “And she’s gorgeous.” You laughed.

Ellie squinted at him again, frowning. “I mean, she’s the fucking best, I know that. But you better know that, too.”

He grinned at her. “I do know that. She is the fucking best.” He raised his eyebrows at her again when he echoed her curse. “And for some reason she seems to like me. I’m not arguin’.”

You elbowed him. “Joel, you know–”

He shook his head at you. “I know, darlin’, I swear I’ve been listenin’. But right now I’m tellin’ Ellie all the reasons I like you.”

You sighed, but Beth cut in. “Wait, I have a question.”

Ellie looked at her skeptically. You both did. Joel didn’t, but he hadn’t known her as long.

“What? I do!”

Joel smiled. “Go ahead.”

Beth grinned, and you started to worry. “Alright, we need to know, and you have to be honest. How bad at dancing is she? We’ve seen her dance! We know the truth!��

Ellie burst out laughing and despite your own annoyance, you grinned at the sight. “Yeah!” She agreed through her laughter. “Tell us!”

Joel looked at you and smiled, gently. “Nah, she was great. Didn’t even step on my feet. She followed my lead just fine.” You felt your cheeks heat in response.

“Oh, come on! That's it?” Beth nudged Ellie with her elbow.

“That’s it.” He nodded and squeezed your hand again. “I’d dance with her anytime.”

“Gross.” Ellie rolled her eyes, and you knew she was feeling more comfortable.

Joel straightened in his seat as the food arrived and released your hand. “Can I ask you some questions now?” 

Ellie immediately looked suspicious but nodded, grudgingly.

“Alright. I heard you started the art club. What kind of art?” He took a bite of his food after he asked, looking at Ellie expectantly.

She glanced between him and you, clearly unsure. You nodded at her in encouragement. 

“You want to hear about that?” She sounded skeptical.

He nodded. “I do. Sounds like maybe it took a lot of work. Are you in charge of the club?”

Ellie continued to squint at him but answered. “No, I’m the vice president. I didn’t want to be the president but they made me pick something.” You snorted and she rolled her eyes at you. “My teacher says I’m not enough of a people person to be president anyway.” She looked like she wanted to swallow those words back after she said them, and glanced at Joel warily. You frowned.

“Sounds like your teacher might need to work on their own people skills, if you ask me.” Joel grumbled and furrowed his brow at his plate and you wondered if he was thinking about Sarah’s mean chemistry teacher. Ellie looked like she wanted to agree and was conflicted about it.

“That’s what I said,” Beth agreed, nodding. “You’d be a great president.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be president, anyway.” She shrugged.

“Sarah’s thinking about trying out for varsity soccer next year, not just playing outside of school,” Joel offered. “I told her maybe she should start a club of her own, somethin’ to do with reading, since she’s been doing it so much.” He nudged you as he said it and you smiled. 

“There might be a book club already,” Ellie offered, voice neutral. “I dunno what they have.” Ellie and Sarah went to different schools, on opposite sides of the town. The schools were almost identical other than Ellie’s having slightly more artsy offerings for students.

Joel nodded. “Maybe. I’ll tell her to check.” He took a sip of his coffee and glanced from you to Ellie and back again. “Got any more questions for me?”

Ellie furrowed her brows and frowned at her waffle. You watched as she straightened her shoulders and started to wonder how many questions she might have left on her list. 

“How many people have you dated?” Your heart rate picked up at her words and you opened your mouth to interrupt, but Ellie shot you a stubborn look.

Joel answered just as honestly as he had been so far. “Well, I think your aunt and I will keep some of those details between ourselves. But I haven’t dated much, haven’t been in a relationship in a while, not since Sarah’s mom.”

Ellie eyed him and crossed her arms. “That’s it? How do I know you won’t hurt her?” Her face was fixed in a scowl and you didn’t know if you should say something or let Joel answer. He did before you could decide.

“Well, I won’t pretend I’ve always been perfect,” Joel’s voice was even and you could tell he was treading carefully. “But I would never hurt her on purpose. And I would try real hard not to do it accidentally either.” 

Ellie narrowed her eyes, clearly not satisfied with this response. “I was there, you know. After Matt. I know what he was like.” You felt a tightness in your chest as you remembered how much of a mess you were when Ellie came to live with you, freshly free of your relationship with Matt and still figuring yourself out. She’d only been 9 at the time and you’d hoped you’d shielded her from most of it. You blinked against the emotion building behind your eyes. Beth sent you a supportive look from across the table.

“I believe you.” Joel nodded. “But there are parts of our relationship that are just for us, and I’d rather your aunt decide what to tell you about them. I will tell you that I already promised her I’d never treat her that way. She’ll decide if I’m good enough for her. And you should know Sarah would take care of me long before you could get to me, if I ever did anything like that.”

Ellie continued to scowl for a minute, looking first at Joel and then down at her plate. “Ok. I–” she trailed off, looking unsure. “Ok. One more question.”

Joel nodded and you took a deep breath, bracing yourself. 

“Can you cook? Because she’s not great at it.”

Beth cracked up laughing and you gasped. “Ellie!”

She grinned at you, unrepentant. “It’s true, and you know it!”

“Well, I don’t know about that.” Joel turned to you with the half smile that sent shivers down your spine. “Dinner was pretty good the other night.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “She can make, like, 5 things. Do not let her make soup.”

He raised his eyebrows and darted his eyes from her to Beth and back to you. “What happened? Soup’s easy, darlin’, what could go wrong?”

Ellie cackled and launched into the story of the Soup Geyser with infuriating glee. As she did, you looked up and met Beth’s eyes. She grinned at you and nodded, and you felt your shoulders relax in relief. She was right, even though she hadn’t said the words out loud. 

Ellie was teasing you. In front of Joel. Something had gone right, after all.

…

After brunch, Joel offered you a ride, so that Beth and Ellie could go check out some more “weird little guys” before Beth dropped her off at Riley’s. You hugged them both (squeezing Ellie a bit longer than usual) and she promised to text you later. You took a deep breath, knowing that would probably be her final verdict. But she smiled and waved at you, so you hoped it would all be fine.

You found yourself standing next to Joel by the passenger door of his truck and realized you’d been silent for your whole walk from the restaurant. You looked over to find him looking at you, a smile playing around his lips. You smiled back, sheepish.

“Sorry, Joel, I was just thinking.”

He reached out to tangle your fingers together as he crowded you against the passenger door. “I could tell, sweetheart. So? How do you think it went?” He looked a little worried, which was sweet.

“Honestly, Joel, I think it went really well. Sorry about the interrogation.” You sighed as you leaned against the truck.

He shook his head. “No, I expected it, or something like. I’m happy to answer her questions. You know, to a point.” 

You laughed. “She respects honesty. So you probably won some points, with all that.”

He smiled at you and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Good. I want her to like me. I want her to meet Sarah, too.” 

For a moment the two of you just smiled at each other. You were shaky, like you were coming down from a huge adrenaline rush, and you supposed that wasn’t far off of what happened. You heaved a deep breath, shaking off your nerves. “Do you have some time, Joel? Want to come over for a bit?”

He grinned, a bit wicked. “Tommy’s taking Sarah to a movie after soccer practice. I’m all yours until dinner time, baby.”

You pulled him into a kiss. “Good,” you mumbled against his lips. “Take me home, cowboy.”

…

Ellie (3:02 PM): ok, he’s maybe a little bit cool. he’s alright (3:03 PM): I want to meet Sarah (3:03 PM): but I think he checks out

you (3:05 PM): thanks, Ellie. I’m glad you got along. even if you had to embarrass me to do it

Ellie (3:06 PM): it’s not my fault you can’t make soup (3:07 PM): do you think he meant it when he offered to teach me to play guitar or was he just doing that adult thing where you say nice things to kids 🙄

you (3:08 PM): he meant it. but I’d be there too. if you’re interested

Ellie (3:10 PM): I’ll think about it (3:14 PM): Beth was right though. he’s pathetically into you (3:15 PM): like I thought you were bad (3:15 PM): but he’s on a whole other level

you (3:16 PM): I thought you’d be happy about that

Ellie (3:17 PM): don’t make me admit to having feelings

you (3:18 PM): 😇

…

sis 👯 (4:12 PM): finally, my break! How did it go?

you (4:15 PM): yay! I think it went ok? You should ask Ellie but her official verdict is that he’s “alright” and maybe “a little bit cool”

sis 👯 (4:16 PM): well damn. High praise

you (4:16 PM): I know!

sis 👯 (4:18 PM): I’m heading back in but now I want to meet him, too

you (4:19 PM): of course! He’d love that. Also he offered to teach Ellie to play guitar and I could tell she was interested, but I promised I’d be there if she does want to take lessons. To make her comfortable

sis 👯 (4:20 PM): she’d probably love that, if she does actually think he’s alright. But yeah I’d want you there. And not until after I meet him.

you (4:21 PM): of course 👍

...

a/n: they met! it happened! what do we think?

prev | next

tag list: @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin

@myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123

@joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites

@fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes

@islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @spacedoutdaydreamer

@littlevenicebitch69 @secretelephanttattoo @pigeonmama @vickie5446

@glizzymcguirex @verymiraclemiracle @friskispunk

#tlou #chaptered #ongoing #read #author: burntheedges

[toomanytookas]

It's April 30th!

REMEMBER TO LEAVE MILK AND COOKIES OUT FOR JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE TONIGHT!

#ramen haired Santa

[toomanytookas]

Very, very late to the party, but I liked thinking about this one so I figured I’ll still participate and just admit to being the slowest of pokes. 🦥

Thank you for the tag, Al, we apparently should talk about Dieter Bravo some time, I didn’t know you were so passionate about him (🤣) 🖤

My five topics:

Fic finding strategies (and frustrations lol)

The use of harp in musical theatre orchestration

The processing of archival collections

Why it’s ok to judge a book by its cover

Public transit should always assume there's someone with a tourist level of familiarity with the system on board and provide adequate wayfinding and stop announcements so that things are navigable (yes this could be an hour).

I’m pretty sure this has kinda made the rounds, but if you see this and want to participate, please consider yourself tagged. And if any of these topics sound neat to you, I’d love to chat! 💕

Rules! List 5 topics you can talk about for at least an hour without any preparation. Tag others to find out their topics.

thanks for the tag @thesluttylittleknee! ok here are some things I can talk about for a loooong time with no prep lol

linguistics and language learning (and academia)

mass effect

knitting

fanfiction

[insert current hyper fixation I'm reading about here]*

*(past examples include: doping in professional cycling, various webcomics, Chernobyl, redlining, and more)

np tagging: @katareyoudrilling @undercoverpena @maggiemayhemnj @secretelephanttattoo @goodwithcheese

@rhoorl @julesonrecord @beardedjoel @gasolinerainbowpuddles @mermaidgirl30

#I always like seeing other people's answers in a row with these #apologies that makes this a #long post #just chattin' #if you see this and you know what i'm supposed to be doing doing right now - no you don't

[toomanytookas]

Davnitt, I've been mulling over what I was going to say for waaaaay too long because it’s hard to put into words how much this ticked so many of my boxes. I don't think I've quite managed it, but here are some ramblings of appreciation.

The perfect dom does not exist… the perfect dom does not exist… the perfect dom does not exist… but actually maybe they do in the form of your take on Marcus.

Discovering your fic at Kate's recommendation feels a bit like having been gifted a winning lottery ticket. Reading this felt like being seen and cared for and having basically everything I’d want brought to life, and it just burrowed this Marcus and his dynamic with the reader into my brain as like the ultimate comfort food for the very lonely little sub that lives there (oops I get a bit confessional on this website sometimes).

You did such an incredible job of establishing the reader's independent spirit and desire to be in control of her life (and reasons for it), along with setting the scene of the stress of her day. It made Marcus’s care for her and offer to take over and ultimately his dominance feel all the more like such sweet relief within that safe environment of their bedroom.

The buildup to when he first calls her “my lovely one” was incredible and when we finally get to that moment and you describe how she reacts to that voicing of his claim of her, I genuinely went under a little bit. Like, this whole passage (omg sorry to quote so much of your own writing back to you):

Something twists in your chest, turning and turning until it’s knotted around your heart and it hurts but it feels so good at the same time. A broken cry is pushed from your chest, sounding something like his name and a curse and a plea all at the same time. His lips meet yours briefly, a reassuring kiss followed by a soft susurration, his hand returning to your neck, a comforting weight. “Tell me what you need, lovely one.”

I could cry. I literally almost did. Ok, maybe I actually did, but don't tell anyone.

There were so, so many wonderful moments of both verbal and physical comfort and devotion and grounding. I'm obsessed with your descriptions how he holds her to him, how he locks her in place in a way that she can just relax into (that knee over his elbow... wooooah).

Also the fact that he's still mostly/entirely dressed? HELLO?????

I feel like I'm leaving out so many details that I delighted in while reading, but please know that this was so, so cathartic and wonderful and I've genuinely read it a few times already and will absolutely be back to read it again in the future.

The next part of the series genuinely felt like it was a glimpse into their dynamic that was almost too intimate for words? But I'll get around to commenting on them eventually. In the meantime, thank you thank you thank you for writing and sharing this universe.

I’m Here

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,546 and every single one of them is pure, unabashed self-indulgence

Warnings etc: reader is described as being in a long term previous relationship, smut (piv, unprotected, oral f!receiving), angst, fluff, description of disgustingly cliché meet-cute, established relationship, mentions of past abusive relationship, anxiety, big beefy cuddly dogs, light BDSM, breathplay, like HEAVY breathplay to some people, physical restraint, Dom/Sub dynamics, Soft!Dom Marcus, Sub!Reader, Praise kink out the wazoo

Notes aka Writer’s Plea For Mercy: This was supposed to be a ~200 word drabble, then I mentally vomited some paragraphs onto a page as part of my attempt at working through some life shit and here we are. GIF chosen because those GODDAMN HANDS STARTED THIS WHOLE THING.

Keep reading

#the mentalist #oneshot #series #read

[toomanytookas]

Y'all are amazing. Reblog to hug the person you’re reblogging from.

#you know I’m a barnacle #non fic

[toomanytookas]

El, I suppose this is when you learn that sometimes I fixate on elements of what people write that kinda make it seem like I’m missing the point of the overall sweetness/romance of things…

But I genuinely can’t stop being drawn to all of the moments that you so expertly incorporate flashes of reference to Parker's relationship with Alex as well as her relationship with him being gone.

That passage right at the top when we begin to understand that they had some idealogical differences in relation to the marketing of her writing spoke VOLUMES about their dynamic. And it creates such a lovely flicker of hope that this time around might be different for her, not only in terms of getting to have full creative freedom, but also the support of someone (or perhaps someones in the form of the creative group) who maybe won't be so focused on the idea of mainstream success...

I also was just so, so enamoured with this:

You know this is the point you should politely share your story, but the W word had followed you everywhere for the last few years, and you just wanted to bask in being you for a while. Rather than the you that made people avert their eyes and cross the street through awkwardness.

It's such a fantastic description of the way in which grief and its presence in your life can kind of become you when people are aware of it, and I just love that Parker gave herself this moment to not make it about that for her? I will be really interested to see how she and Marcus explore their experiences of loss together somewhere down the line, but getting to have freedom to be outside of those topics for a while can be so important, too (perhaps there's an irony in my focusing on it for this comment lol).

I love how you contrasted the creative group's warmth with that sterile and uncomfortable grief support group environment. It's such a quick reference but again says so much about both Parker's past and the unfolding present. Mole certainly seems like fun! I hope we get to know her a bit more as the story continues. :)

Ok ok ok last thing and then I'll leave you be:

This line from Marcus literally made my heart soar: “That’s great! I’m so happy we get to keep you."

I'm so happy that she's found a place that fits for her and can't wait to see where everything goes from here.

Series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter moodboard

Afterword

Series summary: A story about hope and new chapters.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Rating: 18+

See the series masterlist for more information and for tropes/warnings.

Chapter 2

You spend the next few days unpacking, keeping busy. You’d closed the door to the small boxy room you’d earmarked as your office on your first night in your new place, but it was time to tackle it.

You tear open the parcel tape, peel it away, and open up the first of the cardboard boxes. A stack of copies of your first book, a detective novel printed in a few different languages and cover options, blink up at you. You heave them out and place them on the bare shelf above your writing desk.

In the bottom of the box is your pick-me-up folder. A carefully selected number of book reviews, magazine snippets, and online comments that you’d printed out. Alex had wanted to get them all mounted and framed, but you preferred to keep them tucked away and private.

He’d always supported your writing, but with his typical relentless pursuit of success. He’d helped shape the story, persuaded you to make it darker and grittier to hit the points that would sell, and his instincts had been right. It flew off the shelves, leaving behind a big cheque and the financial freedom to write whatever you wanted afterwards. But it had left you feeling a little hollow. You'd do things differently next time.

Next time.

You thought you’d start writing again right away, but after a celebratory holiday in Hawaii and a few weeks to let the dust settle, life got…uninspiring.

Was this now next time? Your plan and hope was that a new place and a new setup would kick start something.

Now that you have the chance to write anything, where should you start?

You work late into the night until you are left with a veritable fort of empty boxes and a sore back. You pick up the green paper bag from The Stationery Stop and set about arranging your new supplies on your desk. You line the pencils up perpendicular to your laptop and pile the notebooks up on the side.

As you rummage into the bottom of the bag for the last few trinkets, you remember the flyer you’d been given, which was now missing. What day did Marcus say the group met? Tuesdays? Thursdays? You needed to pop back into town again in the morning anyway. Maybe you’d nip in to double-check and see a friendly face.

---

You exit the florist struggling a little under the large bouquet of pink gerberas that you’d unwittingly purchased. You’d intended to pick up a small house plant for your desk, but the woman behind the counter was so enthusiastic and colourful that you were lucky you hadn’t left spending more.

When you’d told her you were a writer, still a term that you couldn't say without looking down at your shoes and waiting for the “Oh, anything I might have read?” question, she’d excitedly asked you if you knew about Pencils and Pals, and practically shoved you out of the door and into The Stationery Stop.

It’s quieter inside today without the Saturday throng of customers, but that feeling in the air is the same. There's something about this place. It has a calm kind of magnetism, like the peace of a library or the hush of an old museum.

Your eyes dart to the counter when you enter, but there’s no one behind it today. You take a walk to a display of birthday cards, shift the bunch of flowers under your arm, and leaf through a few, thinking you might actually send your mother’s on time this year.

“Back again?” Marcus comes out of the storeroom behind you, carrying a pile of small canvases all wrapped in plastic. You don't know where he buys his t-shirts from, but the man looks like a walking GAP advert. Today's is a crisp white with a shallow V-neck that draws your gaze as you spin around.

“If you thought that would make me jump, you should know I have three brothers and am immune to pretty much every form of practical joke.”

“I’m not the scaring sort.” He drops the pile onto a nearby table. “But I do like a challenge.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen one of these in years!” You take a few steps towards the counter and wind the handle of the vintage desktop pencil sharpener that sits there. “Why do I have an impulse to stick my finger in there?”

“Please don’t.” He shudders. “I thought it was a fun throwback too, until some kid nearly took a fingernail off.”

You grimace and pull your hand back.

“I actually came back to ask about your group, ‘Artists Rehab’ is it? I thought it was on Thursdays, but I couldn’t remember, and I didn’t want to offend the one person I know here.” You slide the birthday card across the counter and pick up a stack of post-its from the impulse buy section. “Although if I keep spending money every time I step foot in here, I might have to reconsider this friendship.”

He returns your smile, and you see a hint of blush creep up to his ears.

“Just call me your friendly neighbourhood pencil-man.”

You lean forward, your expression serious. “Do you shoot erasers out of your fingertips?”

He checks over his shoulder as if he were about to let you in on a state secret. “Only when surprised.”

You hand over a few bills, and as he drops your change into your palm, you spot his wedding ring. That warm feeling you had coming in here now has a slight chill to it.

“Does…Mrs Pencils come along on Thursdays too?” Your mouth is now a little dry. “It’d be nice to meet her.”

There’s a flicker of something across his face. It’s a look you recognise, one of a sore spot being poked.

“No, she’s….She died.” He twists the ring on his finger a tad self consciously. “It was a long time ago, but I’ve never- Sorry, you didn’t ask for all of that.”

You know this is the point you should politely share your story, but the W word had followed you everywhere for the last few years, and you just wanted to bask in being you for a while. Rather than the you that made people avert their eyes and cross the street through awkwardness.

“I’m really sorry.” The words tumble out before you remember how much you loathe them.

His eyes flash warmly again, and he slips another flyer into your carrier bag with your receipt. “Thank you. And I really hope I- we’ll- see you on Thursday.”

He steps out from behind the desk to hold the door open with his foot, your hands now full with today’s purchases.

You give him your name and another smile. “I’ll try to make it.” You say as you turn to leave, already knowing you’ll be there.

Marcus contemplates you as you walk away, the small bounce in your step and the swing of your bright coat. He leans into the window frame and watches until you disappear around the corner.

Talking to you feels easy. He likes that you just say whatever comes into your mind. Likes that you made him smile on this random Tuesday and that he might see you again in two days' time.

---

You shift nervously from one foot to the other in the doorway of the shop, wiping your feet more times than necessary on the rough coir mat.

Marcus is at the end of the room, unloading folding chairs from a stack and placing them next to several small round tables. The place is busy with people already. He looks up at you, and the expression on his face, the one that matches the warmth and welcome of this little place, makes you feel like you could melt into your boots.

He's wearing a button-down shirt in a dark navy brushed cotton, and you see him fiddle with the cuff button for a moment. You wonder if it's new, and perhaps if he chose it specifically for tonight.

He’s next to you in a few long strides, and for a breath, you think he’s about to pull you into a hug, your brain only registering this at the last second.

“Hello again,” he touches the top of your shoulder lightly and the skin beneath your shirt prickles, “I’m glad you’re here.”

You unwind your soft silky scarf from around your neck and stuff it into your backpack. “I’m glad too. Thanks again for the invite.”

He gestures towards the group. “Come on, they don’t bite.” He points to a young man with long dark bangs and a jet black floor-length coat who you see pull a ball of yarn and knitting needles out of his tote bag. “Not even him.”

“I’m so bad with names.” You confess. “I hope I can remember them all next week.”

Marcus smiles reassuringly at you. “I’m happy to hear you’re already coming back next week, but do you want to hear a secret?”

You lean in to him slightly. “Always.”

“I can’t remember all their names either.” He slides his hand into the pocket of his dark wash jeans and shrugs. “I gave them all nicknames at the start, and now I’m stuck with them.”

“Oh, really!” You laugh and your eyebrows shoot upwards. “Well, now you have to tell me what they all are, and I promise I’ll only bring it up weekly. Forever.”

He shakes his head at you but the dimple in his cheek tells you he likes your gentle prodding.

“Ok.” He runs his hand across his patchy, stubbled jaw. “See that tall guy over there?” You spot an older man with posture the army would be proud of. “That’s ‘Ruler’.”

“Figures.” You nod.

“The woman with the bright blonde cropped hair? ‘Highlighter’.”

He points out a few more people. There’s ‘Paperclip’ who wraps everyone in a tight embrace as they walk in. ‘Thumbtack’ who no-one seems to want to sit with. ‘Whiteout’ who is already crossing out everything they’ve written on their page and, finally, ‘Mole’, with her stack of Moleskin notebooks on her lap, each more dogeared and fuller than the last.

“How long until I get a themed nickname?” You joke.

“You already have one.” He grins as he walks back to the group, leaving you wondering.

You pick a seat next to ‘Mole’. She’s a writer too, and she has an infectious spark, a cute British accent, and an easy confidence that makes you want to read or listen to anything she has to say. She writes her phone number on an orange post-it and sticks it to the front of your notebook, a coffee date already a foregone conclusion at this point.

It’s a motley crew of creatives. Some are painting, others drawing, sewing, or writing. You’d been worried it would feel like the support groups you’d reluctantly attended, at other people’s insistence, after Alex was gone. All hard-backed chairs, harsh strip lighting, plastic cups of orange juice, and boxes of Kleenex. But this felt welcoming, fun, just what you didn’t know you needed.

You notice how Marcus takes time to talk to everyone in the group. He holds himself in a charismatic way, making every person light up when he shows an interest in what they’re working on. You could see him as a teacher or a boy scout leader.

When the last of the group pack up their things and leave, you find yourself hanging back and folding your papers away slowly. One by one, they leave the shop, and their cheery goodbyes fade away to leave a quiet stillness.

Marcus flicks the radio on low and starts putting the store to bed for the night. You like watching him from back here, the practised way he lets the roman blinds cascade down the windows, the soft taps of the keys of the cash register as he turns it off, the swish of the straw brush as he sweeps the floor.

His laptop is open on the counter, and you notice a pair of brown eyes that match his and a crown of chocolate ringlets radiating out from the screensaver.

“Your daughter?” You guess.

You like how his face glows at this. “Yeah, that’s her. Missy. She hates that photo now. It’s ancient. She’s grown up and is away at college.” His shoulders sag a little. “Great kid, calls her Dad every Sunday without fail.”

You’ve stalled as much as you can, so you wrap yourself up in your coat and sling your backpack onto your shoulders.

“I bet you’re a good Dad.”

He hums. “Depends which week you ask her.”

He pulls on his jacket and pats down the pockets for his keys.

“Is there anyone picking you up tonight, a partner or..?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m-. It's just me.”

After he switches off the lights and punches in the alarm code, you and Marcus step outside onto the street.

“So did you have a good time tonight?” He flips through his bunch of keys until he finds a brass coloured one and locks the door.

“I really did.” You nod. You’ve smiled so much tonight that you feel a little drunk off it. “I’ve always written alone, but it felt really good to be in a room full of other people being creative. Inspiring, I suppose.”

You feel him relax as he falls into step next to you. “That’s great! I’m so happy we get to keep you.”

There’s a tiny swoop in your stomach, and then the memory of something he said earlier comes back to you.

“Hey.” You prod him on the arm. “You never told me what my nickname is?”

There’s not even a beat before he says. “Parker.”

You think for a moment as the heels of your shoes click off the pavement in synchronised taps.

“Like the brand of fancy pens?”

“Exactly.”

You knit your brows together. “You’re a pencil guy, though, right?”

“Yeah,” he smiles but keeps his gaze forward, “your friend the pencil guy.”

Your friend. It feels nice and your cheeks are rising faster than you can stop them.

Later on, as you twist and turn in your bed and hear the pipes creaking as the heating comes on, you’re a little confused as you think back to why he chose ‘Parker’. Is it a compliment? Those pens are pretty high-end after all. Is it as simple as writer = pen?

Or are you reading way too much into this, and should you just be relieved you’re not ‘stapler’?

Next chapter

Taglist:

Apologies for weird formatting, blame Tumblr!

@missladym1981 @rhoorl @tuquoquebrute @5oh5 @anavatazes

@stevie75 @ranahx @darkheartgatita @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @titlee78

@amyispxnk @nerdieforpedro @katareyoudrilling @maried01 @survivingandenduring

@pedrit0-pascalit0 @casa-boiardi @iloveenya @lwfics

@msjarvis @heareball @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @khindahra

@inept-the-magnificent @auteurdelabre @trulybetty @lizzie-cakes @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain

@julesonrecord @magpie-to-the-morning @burntheedges @schnarfer @imaswellkid

@janaispunk @sin-djarin @604to647 @toomanytookas @bubble-pop-eclectic @djarinmuse

@fuckyeahdindjarin @titabel @nerdieforpedro

@anoverwhelmingdin

#we can be heroes #chaptered #ongoing #read #author: secretelephanttattoo

[toomanytookas]

Look, I know we decided he wouldn't be good for me, but just this once can I take the puppy home? Please? I just want to wrap this soggy, gentle man in a towel, smooth the worry from his forehead, and give him the biggest cuddle.

You've managed to pack so much hinted backstory into this, Al, but at such a perfect level that I don't feel lost or like I have to know more in order to be invested in his little mope and their sparkly reunion. It's excellent!

Raining in Baltimore - Marcus Pike one shot

Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: Pure fluff but this blog is 18 + only please

Summary: Where you should be, no one's around

Word count: 792

Content: Sad, quite soggy Marcus POV but happy ending, some snogs

A/N: This is my little drabble/one shot type thing for @undercoverpena April Showers's Challenge! I've never written Marcus before and inspiration struck when I was wide awake at 4am, so hopefully this makes sense and isn't a fever dream of fluff and rain. Counting Crow's Raining in Baltimore was circling in my brain and this is the result of that rather melancholy tune combined with Marcus's puppy dog eyes! It’s actual fluff for real this time I promise.

Listen to: Counting Crows Raining in Baltimore (obvi)

It’s raining in Baltimore and Marcus Pike doesn’t have a raincoat. He walks in urgent, sure strides as he pushes himself onto the train, gripping a cold metal pole to steady his feet on the slippery floor. Resists the urge to shake his head like a dog to remove the raindrops that now soak his hair. A steady drip, drip, drip rolling onto his skin, a puddle pooling uncomfortably at the soles of his sodden feet.

Golden retriever energy, that’s what you’d said to him. It should have been cute, a term of endearment, but the bite in your voice made him aware there was an edge to the supposed compliment. It was hard to judge, in a phone call coming from 3,500 miles away, nuances get lost in the ether and he couldn’t reach out to touch your face for reassurance.

He mulls it over sullenly now, in the cold light of the end of the day. Was it something he’d said, or not said, that caused a rupture in the line? A crackle that couldn’t be smoothed out with a kiss pressed onto your lips, a clutch of your body to his. Marcus can’t help but let a frown form on that normally easy face, frustrated when he’s trying real hard to keep it together, desperate to make being so far from you work.

There was no answer when he tried to ring you this morning. He’s lonely, all he ever wanted was a big love. Now he needs a raincoat and a phone call. Maybe a plane ride.

He’s left the damp, muggy carriage and is back out into the stormy street. The rain is relentless, so he stops trying to fight it, trudging and constant, attempting to quiet the circus that’s taken up residence in his head, replaying your last stilted conversation and wondering how he could have rescued it. Made you understand how he hates coming home to an empty apartment, that not waking up to the feel of your skin against his is almost painful. A dull ache that he can’t shift. A restlessness that doesn’t sit with his usual enthusiasm for life, the shine disappearing from his eyes the moment he realises, once again, that you’re not in the bed with him.

Just one more block to go. He’s soaked to the bone now, wipes uselessly at his eyes, decides against running the last few yards. Braces himself for everything in his apartment being exactly as he left it first thing this morning. Resolves to call you, try and make amends for whatever it was he did. Worries at his lip, knows really, it was leaving for this job that did it. Something he can’t undo.

He feels heavy, walking up the stairs, careful not to slide on the wet stone steps. Prepares himself to enter a cold, empty apartment. He lets the sadness of missing you settle into him as he searches for his keys, hard metal against his now freezing fingers.

A rush of warmth hits him as he swings open the door.

“Marcus! I’m so sorry I…” he doesn’t let you finish the sentence, a burst of energy overwhelms you as he takes you in his arms, kisses the words right out of your mouth with an urgency you don’t normally feel from him. It knocks the breath right out of you, makes you sink happily into him despite his soaking clothes.

He is cold to the touch, you press your palms to his face, try to share some of your body heat, gaze into those dark brown eyes and search for the light in them that you love so much.

His eyes shine right back at you and he looks so adorably confused, “Sweetheart, I can’t believe you’re actually here? I thought I’d upset you, I couldn’t bear it.”

“Marcus, my love,” you’re peeling his jacket off, undoing the buttons of the shirt that clings to his broad chest and wet skin, “I was just mad at you because I missed you too much. Decided there was only one way to fix that.”

He’s shivering as you pull his belt undone, fingers deft as you unbutton his trousers. “Let’s get you in a hot shower and then I’m going to make you pancakes.”

He swoops in for another kiss as he steps out of his trousers, pressing himself against you with a longing that brings a flutter to your belly, as you tangle together.

This man. So earnest, so pure, impossible to be angry at. You’d worried that his unending kindness might damped your desire for him over time, but instead it grew with each sweetness, with every puppy-dog look in your direction.

“You coming in with me baby?”

“Hell yes.” You answer, pulling your t-shirt off over your head, enjoying his bright eyes taking you in. You trace a finger against those beautiful pouty lips, “Remind me to get you a raincoat baby.”

Note: All images from pinterest. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tagging in a couple of peeps i think would enjoy Marcus (let me know if you'd like to be taken off/added): @pascalssbabyy @toomanytookas @katareyoudrilling @luxurychristmaspudding @secretelephanttattoo

@freelancearsonist @bitchwitch1981

#the mentalist #oneshot #read #author: schnarfer

[toomanytookas]

javier peña in every episode of narcos

1x04 the palace in flames

#amen #narcos #non-fic

[toomanytookas]

Oh my goshhhhhhh. This was hypnotically sensual. I got so wrapped up in it in the most glorious way!

Jo, the way you imbue even your most smutty scenes with such comforting relationship dynamics and acts of consideration and care makes me swoon and feel so safe and warm every single time.

I loved this soooo much: Until now, you weren’t sure if it was possible to be more in love with him. Then he proved that even up in the air he thought of nothing but what was best for you.

The whole fic absolutely just flooded me with the desire to experience this level of intense trust and admiration and worship of a partner. The way they get so lost and wild as they revel in their physical connection was so delicious. I loved all of the praise that Frankie lavished on the reader, and the exchanges of dominance between them was so fun and sexy.

You did suuuch a great job of conveying the thrill of (sufficiently safe) danger due to them standing (flying? Hah) on the precipice of the unravelling of Frankie’s control amidst a display of one of his biggest and most impressive competencies (I swear that wasn’t a euphemism). I particularly enjoyed that detail of how shoddy a job his landing was because it perfectly conveyed that juxtaposition between his capabilities and how he was just so overwhelmed with the intensity of his need to feel the reader and be with her after that incredibly intense blow job (which I looooooooved).

I’m going to come back to read this soooo many more times because it is just so satisfying and heady and HOT. 💕

up sky, low high

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie morales masterlist

summary: frankie takes you on a heli-ride. you decide to test his competency and take him for a ride.

word count: 1.9k warnings: smut. 18+. there's mouth to cock action in the sky - new kink for jo? maybe. jo's interpretation of how to fly a heli is deffo a warning in itself. everyone is safe. remember he's a professional, but don't try this in the air bbys. jo’s spelling—written on phone, forgive me. moodboard not reflective of reader. an: this wouldn't be possible without @morallyinept who not only thotted with me, told me to write this, filled me with confidence at the halfway point when i sent it to her but also made the prettiest banner and moodboard for this (see at the bottom). babe ily, thank you so much for this.

It’s not ideal—not even close to safe.

Finger pushing in on the button that releases the elements of your seatbelt as you swallow, staring at him. Gawking, in fact.

Frankie always looks good, a fact not fiction.

Whether it’s first thing in the morning, sleep in his eyes—fingers scratching over his soft stomach as he yawns. Or when his eyes are hidden under the bill of his hat, dark, all mahogany brown pupils blown with lust as the thing on the television becomes forgotten.

And while he does always look incredible, there’s something criminal about the way he looks right now. Piloting, all in his element, wearing fucking competency like he was the one who first birthed it as he keeps the helicopter in the air.

Short flight, he’d said when he’d helped you into the rental.

Now, you could bet on it.

Because you're not even sure how long you’ve been in the air, too busy gazing, hungrily undressing him as he flicks switches and checks gauges. Your understanding of what he was doing lost, barely reaching a basic level.

What you do know is that if he reaches over, slides his hand up your dress and touches the fabric covering your pussy, he’d find them soaked.

But then, he’d also likely notice the way you’re taking shallow breaths, that you’ve been squirming for friction for the past so many instructions—

Because of his voice.

It all low, husky—dragged through gravel when it comes through the headset. Pointing out sights, places, but he’s the only thing you want to gaze at from this height. From any height.

That’s why the thought had arrived, to begin with, the lucrative one. The one so far gone that you try not to consider logistics and just trust in the fact he’d stop you if it was too unsafe. Your voice barely steady through the microphone, asking—layered and wrapped with demand, as your pulse quickens and your palms become slick with sweat.

You know the idea is ridiculous. Yet, somehow, you find yourself moving up onto your knees, digging them into the chair you’d just been seated on.

That’s when you see it. The glimmer, the spark, before he whines out that he’ll maintain altitude as you palm him over his cargo pants. Feeling him harden, pressing against the zipper, all thick, long and delicious as your mouth waters.

Because you need him in your mouth.

A thing you must murmur because suddenly he’s helping—lifting his hips as he whispers an oh fuck, when you drag his layers down and your hand wraps around his cock. More so when you move your wrist, dipping your head to slide your tongue to lick up the bead of want already there at the tip.

Flicking your gaze up, you find hungry eyes staring back—ones lit by the sun, shades a plenty making up the lust-filled gaze that makes your mouth open wider as you take as much of him as you can.

Fuck it’s glorious.

Both the thrum of vibrations through the cushion seat under your knees as he keeps the thing in the air and the feel of his hot length sliding against your tongue. As you take him. As you make him hiss through gritted teeth when you try to take a little more of him than you usually manage—tears springing in your eyes and your throat constricting around him—

“Careful, querida,” he soothes.

Large hand cupping the back of your head, easing, aiding, as his cock rests at the entrance of your mouth, placed perfectly on your lower lip. Breath coming back to you; eyes blinking as he darts his eyes from the world below him to you.

“You okay?”

Until now, you weren’t sure if it was possible to be more in love with him. Then he proved that even up in the air he thought of nothing but what was best for you.

Nodding, spit trailing down your chin, droplets falling to your chest where it pools as fabric meets skin, you smile. Gleam. Grin. Before making him swallow a moan as you take him again, his head falling back.

It’s then, when you hollow your cheeks do you feel him shift, allowing him, as he gently thrusts to slide his length as far down your throat as it allows. Good girl, so good, my good girl—

Humming around him at his praise, a blend of languages as he calls you pretty and perfect. And you can tell he’s close, taste it on your tongue as he begins to rock his hips, as he begins to hiss—teeth biting down on his lip, imagining his knuckles whitening around the cyclic stick.

It’s enough to make you come from the thought—close to ruining your own panties further as you press your thighs together.

Closing your lips around him, sucking and adorning, showing him, etching your love for him with the way your tongue swirls over the tip, hand gripping his thigh as he groans your name. It followed by s’close, m’close baby—

Then he pulls you off him, all with care. Spit connecting your lips to his tip as you stare at him in confusion. The line dropping, snapping—it clinging to the curls at the base of him, soaking his hair like dew on a spring morning.

“Frankie…”

It’s all you manage to croak out. Eyes wide, thoughts barely present, all cock-drunk and adrenaline-fuelled—the scent of him still there, around your nose, musk and engine oil.

“Need to land,” he replies, short, jaw tight—cock angry and throbbing between his thighs as he flicks a switch. “Can’t… can’t fuck you, unless I land.”

You’re not sure he’s ever landed so quickly, never mind so clunky. Remembering stories, how he gloats at his prowess at most of his land landings. But you have no time to question, think, or ask, before he pulls off his belt, headset and hat before reaching to yank you into his lap.

It’s clumsy—a mess of limbs, a tight squeeze as your hands skate around his neck. But you forget about it all when his mouth crashes to yours. Kissing you so hard and hungrily your teeth clash. His breath is hot in your mouth as he pants at the feel, likely tasting himself as he slips his tongue into yours.

And it’s warm, his tongue. Licking into your mouth, large hands around your waist brushing your clothed core against his cock—the hiss reverbing down your throat as you swear you feel him shake. Tremble. So desperate for you that it makes him quiver.

You love kissing him.

Could spend hours doing it. Not caring about jaw aches when you’re tangled up with him. Like right now. In some field, in some place—

“Need t’fuck you, baby. Can I fuck you please?” he asks, voice low, but tinged with a plea.

His hand balls up your dress, the other hand hooking a finger in to pull your soaked underwear from your pussy before groaning at the sight. “Hold them for me, baby.”

Swallowing, smiling—you do. Lifting, nudging yourself closer as your knees screech on the leather as you become full of molten hunger. Hovering over him as he eases the head of his cock to your slick entrance, sliding it through your folds, eyes focused on you.

“Can’t wait.”

“Then, don’t,” you whisper.

Then he hisses as he pushes in, right between his teeth. One that’s born at the back of his throat and makes an entrance into the air. Cuts. Slices. The sound so fucking hot that you clench around him when he bottoms out—mouth open in an O at how full, stretched and stuffed you feel.

“No te muevas—lemme feel you, baby. Fuck—”

Your smile widens—practically smirking. Shifting on him as the hand on your waist tightens its hold. But, you’re not listening. Even less so when you press an open-mouth kiss to his skin as you begin to move, to slowly slide your pussy up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, querida—feel so—good—incredible. Tu perfecto. Made for me, you know that…”

It’s layered—all in a breath; you answer similarly when you say that you do. Practically pressing it into the air as you pant, resting your forehead on his shoulder, as the two of you are quick to find a pace.

It’s almost drowned by how wet you are, how loud it is when he begins to thrust up into you. All aching for one another, practically feral as you feel your slick clings to your inner thighs—likely smudging against his skin as your fist clenches at his shirt. Clit brushing against the tangle of coarse hair, you’re soaking, that makes you dizzy as he begins to fuck up into you.

All deep thrusts. Making you moan—feeling nothing but good. Perfect. Amazing.

Just how he always makes you feel this way. Every, single, time—

“Need you to come, baby,” he strains, rasps, groans as you feel his hand—all expert, calloused in the right places—snake between the two of you.

It’s there, trying to disguise between letters: desperation. Despair. His touch confirms it, finding your bundle of nerves as he makes you gasp, arch, tighten around him as your hand finds refuge on the back of his neck. Your fingers slide into his sweat-soaked curls, smearing against your fingers as you clutch, grip and grasp.

And you’re aware of it now. How the cabin is warmer—windows likely smothered in perspiration—but it’s nothing compared to the heat of your body. It licks at your neck, at the base of your spine, the backs of your thighs that meet your calves.

But you’re lost in it, in him. Wanting nothing more than to come; unable to speak from how much you want to. More so as his hips cant up into you, as you begin to see white in the corner of your vision—as your body becomes more fire than bone.

Tightening around him as he shifts, an angle that makes you see fucking stars as you whine his name like it’s made of one syllable.

“—that’s it, querida. Fuck, s’good for me, I love—“

It building, so near to snapping as you hear him babbling, rambling. Your mouth is just open against his neck, moaning—the noise slipping out of you as it slams into you. His voice fading, the world going quiet as you come undone, all pulsing, all clenching down on him as it crests.

But his hips push you through it. Chasing, seeking. His pace is all sloppy, difficult, lost as you blink your eyes open to see the way his face is scrunched, lips over his teeth. And if you hadn’t just, you swear you’d come against from the sight.

That look of sheer determination, skin bathed in sweat before his eyes find yours—crystallising, glazed over and fucked out—

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper.

And his expression pauses. Relaxes.

Smooths.

His hand tightens on your hip, grunting out your name—burying it into the air as his hips stutter. Then, he whines. Spilling inside of you as he collapses back into the chair, you pressed against him, jaw all slack and his eyes clenched shut.

And you swear you can feel his heartbeat. It is all out of step with your own.

Not that you care.

Smiles painted on your faces as your eyes met his, breaths ragged, your finger wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

Before his lips slide back over yours, kissing you, writing gratitude against your mouth as the muscles in his neck flex under your palm.

an: look how pretty this issssssss. thank you so much, jett.

#triple frontier #oneshot #read #author: undercoverpena #omg jo look at me I’m commenting outside of ao3 #idk why i never comment over here #just some weird mental block #but I’m trying to challenge myself to break that #so here I am #shouting from the tumblr rooftops about how much I loved this #(and of course you!!)

[toomanytookas]

I’ve not been commenting on things lately because I feel like I yell at you too much already but I HAVE TO for this one, Al.

Please tell me how a silly little half thought like “is Joel doing something delicious?” turned into this not just delicious but decadently, achingly sexy image:

He’s holding you so tight it almost hurts, a pain so delicious you’re desperate for him, want him to bruise you and show that for this moment you belong to him.

Because I NEED to STEAL that genius so I can enjoy the scorching HEAT of what it creates all for myself. I’ll give it back, I just want to be selfish and take it with me on a little trip and get to hold it in my hand and giggle at how wonderful it is and let it tell me lovely stories while I’m all tucked up in bed for a little while. Oh, wait… I guess that kinda happens already. 😂

It is immensely difficult to provide a meaningful edit when you have to stop for a breather to clear your head every few lines 🥵, so I am very grateful that you are willing to accept my 4am ramblings about verb tense agreement as a passable beta read. Getting to work with your writing feels like being given the sweetest candy that hits all of the right notes in my brain and it is always SO much fun to get to see the final product, especially when it’s as delightful and sensual and breathtaking as this.

Nicest Things Part 3: Most Ardently

Neighbour!Joel x f!reader

Rating: 18 + only please

Summary: I can resist everything but temptation

Word count: 1,777

Content: Gratuitous Austen references, Joel Miller AU but no ages mentioned (everyone is over 18 but they can be whatever you would wish), big swears, bad boyfriend mentioned, minimal descriptions of reader, LOOK AWAY if you don't want a spoiler - we got infidelity, we got smut! Snogs and thigh riding. Always Fleabag coded.

Part of the Nicest Thing masterlist mini series / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 - coming soon

A/N: I did genuinely start off writing this thinking it would just be a kiss but... Well, Joel Miller and reader had other ideas. I feel like you guys (gn) are going to enjoy this one. Apologies to Jane Austen for using her work as basically foreplay.

Reminder: You're staying with your uncle this summer and your friendship with his unreasonably hot neighbour, Joel Miller, is growing. Only one small hitch, the long-term boyfriend waiting for you back at home.

Thank you to @katareyoudrilling for being my original Austen inspiration, to @pascalssbabyy & @luxurychristmaspudding for holding my hand whilst I had a wobble or two& to @toomanytookas for being the ultimate beta reader.

Most Ardently

It’s scorching in the kitchen. And it’s not just because Joel Miller is sitting across the room from you, clutching your well-thumbed copy of Pride and Prejudice. He’s reading to you in that low, honied voice and with each hushed, drawn-out syllable you feel a little like you might be ascending to heaven, letting his words wash over you and dampen your skin.

The blissful summer evening light streams through the kitchen windows, bringing with it the lingering Texas heat, which is melding with the warmth from the oven and the hob, bestowing a glow to your cheeks, as you chop and weigh out ingredients for the feast you’re cooking up. You’ve slipped into a summer dress and pulled your hair up out of your face, yet it hasn’t made you any less hot, hot, hot. You drag the back of your hand against the perspiration gathering on your forehead.

Your phone is on silent, but you still see out of the corner of your eye as it lights up with an incoming call. You peer over at it. Shit, your boyfriend is ringing you. First time he’s tried to ring since you got to Texas. You quietly turn it over, screen now facing downwards, squish that edge of panic down that you always get when you see his name flash up on your phone. Yes, always. You don’t want to roll that thought around your head right now, no need to dig at that scab. You mentally blank it out. Blank him out.

You take a swig of the red wine that’s definitely growing on you, try to focus on Austen fused with the soothing lilt of Joel. You’ve picked out chapter 34 and Darcy is about to attempt his disastrous proposal to Elizabeth.

Joel reads; "She answered with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in agitated manner, and thus began-”    

Joel stops reading for a moment, a frown etched onto that beautiful face, “So, Darcy’s actually in love with Lizzie?”

“Of course,” you laugh, “wouldn’t you be?”

“Course,” Joel’s laugh echoes your own and you’re reminded how much you love the sound, how ever since you first heard that almost boyish laugh you’ve become addicted to it, feel it right down to your bones. He takes another sip of his red wine, “Ok where were we… right, he’s just turned up at her motel.”

“They’re staying at someone’s house Joel, there weren’t motel’s in England in the 1800’s.“

“Yeah, yeah,” he clears his throat, begins to read as Darcy, “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you - hang on, baby, he’s fucking this up, isn’t he?”

“Sure is. Not very romantic being told someone is struggling to try and stop being in love with you.”

Joel continues to read aloud, adding in his thoughts as Darcy well and truly fucks it up his proposal, "I like Lizzie, she’s got sass.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to agree with Joel, only to find he’s placed the book down on the table and has suddenly come up right close behind you. He slides his hands around your waist, strong arms pulling you up onto your tiptoes, so you’re leant against him, “Reminds me of someone I know.”

He leans down so the scruff of his beard prickles against the sensitive skin on your neck and you groan at the sensation, fingers splayed out in front of you on the counter, as you try and steady your breathing and not rut back against him, “Joel…”

“I’m trying real hard, but I can’t not touch you baby. I know… I know you’re in a tricky spot and I don’t want mess anything up for you. You know how much I want you, right? I’m gonna respect whatever you decide… but…” he nibbles a little at your exposed skin and you gasp at the contact, “We’ve got a problem, ‘cause I’m going to ask if I can kiss you. And if you say yes, I ain’t going to be able to stop.” 

You nod your head furiously, make a sound that kind of resembles an ‘uh huh’ but it’s more like a deep, shaky exhale.

“You’re gonna have to use your words when I ask, baby.”

“Yes, please Joel.” The effect this has on him is immediate. He pulls back from you a little, tilts his head, breath still hot on the curve of your neck. You can feel his eyes roving up and down your face as his jaw ticks. 

“Good girl.”

Your compliance, he likes that, and it emboldens you, makes you even more sure of the want that’s flooding every fibre of your being. You turn so you’re fully facing him, purposefully dragging your body against his, “Ask me now.”

He steps even closer to you, pushing you against the wooden side. He drops down to your height, slotting a knee between your bare thighs, one hand firm around your waist and the other warm against your face. His thumb ever so gently caresses your cheek, and you are tempted to turn a tiny increment and take that thumb into your mouth, let your teeth bite into the calloused flesh. Instead, you look up into Joel’s darkened eyes with your mouth dropped slightly open, feel your tongue push behind your teeth in anticipation.

He lets your demand sit between you for a moment. You wonder if he can feel the burning between your thighs that’s pulsing against the thick denim of his jeans, the thrumming of your pulse under his circling thumb.

He all but whispers into your breath, “Can I kiss you baby?”

You tilt your head, so your lips trace the words onto his, “Yes, please Joel.”

It’s so soft, that first touch. Like everything just melts away, his body sinking into you. The burning heat becomes a want that almost feels chaste for a second as you both marvel in the way your lips instinctively find each other, gentle, warm. Almost, almost like it was meant to be.

Your hands had been braced behind you, but now you let one drag against the soft hair on the back of his head, as he continues to explore your lips, pressing kisses onto you. A low groan rumbles in his chest as you tug at an almost curl that sits at the nape of his neck. You smile at that, pull harder, open your mouth to let his tongue search out yours, still slow, still tentative, little flicks against each other as the hunger between you grows.

You lean a little further back, beckoning Joel to push against you harder, take more of you, deepen the kiss as you begin to lick into each other with more intensity.

The fire flickers back into life in both of you, any hesitance has burned away, and you find you’re grinding against his strong thigh without even realising you were doing it. He’s holding you so tight it almost hurts, a pain so delicious you’re desperate for him, want him to bruise you and show that for this moment you belong to him. Your bodies are moving on intuition, guided by a shared, blazing ache that you can feel tingling in the very centre of you, which you know must be driving him wild from the sighs that are escaping him.

“Fuck… Joel, it feels so good.” You don’t want to stop kissing him, don’t want him to stop, but you need to tell him about this feeling that’s burning you up, making you begin to fist his t-shirt with both hands, lift your leg up off the floor and wind it around his waist.

Kisses on kisses, becoming more frantic, more urgent with each lick, each wet pull and twist of your tongues.

“I know baby, I know,” he’s all teeth and tongue and desire, “I want you to use me, I want to make you feel good. Please, baby, can I make you feel good, please? Can’t stop thinking about what that pretty face is going to look like when you come.”

You know the noise you make comes from the deepest part within you, a wanton moan as Joel pulls back from your lips and starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, using his grip to drag your hips back and forth over his thigh, making you shiver at the delicious friction.

Your hands drop from him and back to the side, clutching the edge to give yourself purchase as you feel yourself disappearing into pure lust, your head dizzy with it, your body nothing but longing and need as you edge towards bliss.

“Yes, Joel, please, yes.” You try and form more words, but you can’t find them, they disappear into the air as you stutter, “Want you.”

He returns to your mouth, giving your pouting lips just what you need before he pulls at your dress with one hand, the buttons ease open against the force of him. His fingers caress your breast, thumbing at your nipple before bringing it into his waiting mouth.

You card your hands through his hair as he tongues at your peaked nub in a way that makes your back arch with the pleasure. It compels you press harder against his thigh, chasing your high with desperate drags.

“Joel, Joel… I’m..” you feel like you’re drunk on him, fizzing with an energy that tightens in your belly and swirls around your fingertips as you grip onto his hair. Your words are slurring into one another as you feel the ecstasy of your orgasm blurring into you, your mouth falling slack as Joel crashes his lips back against your own, sucking the breath right out of you and echoing the juddering groan you make as you come.

Everything shimmers as you slowly float back down to earth. You gently bite at his bottom lip, tangle your tongue against his again, before sinking into his shoulder with a heavenly sigh.

“Jesus Christ Joel. That… that was some first kiss.”

“Good things come to those who wait, I guess?” He chuckles, swoops in for another kiss before wrinkling his nose a little, “Can I smell burning?”

You shrug your shoulders, wrap your arms around his neck, “Probably.”

Part of the Nicest Thing masterlist mini series / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 - coming soon

Note: All images from pinterest. Dividers by @saradika/@saradika-graphics

Tagging in some Joel fans, let me know if you want to be added in/taken off:

@pedroswife69 @ashleyfilm @rizzraa @magpiepills

@yxtkiwiyxt @jessthebaker @missladym1981 @morallyinept @readingiskeepingmegoing

@tuquoquebrute @kirsteng42 @beskarandblasters @freelancearsonist @anoverwhelmingdin

@axshadows @ghotifishreads @sawymredfox @janaispunk @mothandpidgeon

#tlou #chaptered #read #ongoing #author: schnarfer

[toomanytookas]

^ An accurate depiction of me receiving this reply and basking in the loveliness and warmth of it. I have big hearts for you too!

A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop: Interlude: Ezra’s Room.

Fandom: Prospect (film)

Pairing:  Ezra x f!reader

Rating: ***Mature.*** It’s not overly graphic, but it’s still hella intimate.

Warnings: Kissing, stripping nekkid, unprotected P&V, hands doing a lot of the work, unfiltered word blarfing. Relentless. Like just thick and surypy as hell.

A/N: If you’ve come to the Bookshop for comfort and soft and want to just carry on and accept that sex happens and just skip this and wait for chapter 8, here’s your warning and my blessing. This little interlude doesn’t add to the story or the relationship other than the intimacy that comes with adding sex to the equation, so you won’t miss anything if you want to exclude mature material from the fic. 

Srsly, this is maybe the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written. Like all that soft was keeping the smut just barely contained and it’s come to a boil and this is the release valve. (*laughs* It feels a little like I just wrote fanfic of my own fic.) But. Ezra and Tinker find so much comfort in each other, they were always going to come together like this. It’s just that this isn’t a kiss that can happen in the public setting of the shop or a cuddle while reading in the sitting room. This is just for them, so it gets its own space. And I’m not sorry for just pouring my messy, yearning heart all over the page. 

Summary: Tinker follows Ezra into his bedroom, immediately following Chapter 7.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST - BOOKSHOP MASTERLIST

<–Chapter 7: Someone Who Handles You Gently

________________

Keep reading

[toomanytookas]

no matter how terrible my day is. i can always end my day in bed imagining fictional characters making out sloppy style and fucking raw. and that's beautiful. there's some good in this world mister frodo and it's worth fighting for

#commonplace book clippings

[toomanytookas]

*throws confetti* in celebration of the delight that is this chapter

I don't want to forget to mention them, so I'll start by saying yay for more Beth and Ellie! It was hearbreaking to get a more in-depth explanation of the shared trauma and difficult, tangled dynamic that they have with the readers' sister, but of course you did it in such a gentle way where the reader had Joel as such an understanding and caring listener. It's beautiful to see that the three of them have such a strong and healthy and happy dynamic on the other side of the worst of things and knowing the depth of the past just furthers how wonderful it is to see Ellie be this sassy teenager who clearly has known love and is able to give her own into the world. I'm looking forward to Joel meeting them and particularly to see how he approaches meeting Ellie.

To pair the other comment I have about the more emotionally vulnerable side of this chapter, that comment you made in a reply to me the other week about about her liking everything Joel does and that being meaningful and special for him makes even more sense now. I love how the way they fit so well together is something that is healing and validating for them both.

In that vein as well, I loved that frank discussion of the things that needed to be talked about for now and the things that could maybe be left for later regarding their kinks and safety and consent, especially with ALLLLLL of the anticipation and excitement of wanting to know what those other things could be buzzing in the reader's head (believe me I'm also curious especially since you mentioned that they explore more stuff in my kink ask hahaha. Even if you don't include them all in these final chapters, I would love to just see their list someday or something).

This cracked me up: “I just asked you to fuck me while I’m asleep, I think we can be honest with each other." I loved how that infusion of humour demonstrated how matter-of-fact this conversation was in a way? Yes, it is serious and yes it was important, but it also wasn't ceremonial, it was a talk between them like any other.

Ok. Now we're gonna go in for it. AND HOLY HELL WAS I IN FOR IT.

A bit of an aside: 

I have to laugh a bit because my birthday is November 10, so even though we’re in a completely different timeline from them, it does somehow feel like this was some sort of extra treat for me that they were doing this on that day in their world. 😂

I genuinely can’t remember at this point if this is the first time we are seeing from Joel’s perspective, but WHAT a rush to get it for this scene. All of those moments of him thinking the reader is in the edge of waking up before he’s reached his initial goal of being inside her literally started to make my heart pound a little, it was soooo good.

I looooved the contrast of these two passages together:

You were so fucking responsive, even in your sleep — you followed his instructions perfectly and your thighs shifted just enough for his cock to slip between them.

He wanted to see the exact moment you woke up and realized he was doing as you asked, he was doing what you wanted. He was giving it to you just right.

When I've thought about my approach to writing softdomming and devising scenes for it in the past, I've spent a lot of time thinking about the fact that it is often just as much about providing service and care and performing a bit of wish fulfillment as it is about asking for submission and receiving the fruits of submissive acts... It’s kind of how you frame it (that you are the provider, that you are creating a safe and gentle space, that you are the protector that makes it possible for your sub to let go and enjoy the moment) that makes the experience what it is rather than what the acts themselves are and how the roles of giving and receiving might typically be perceived/aligned... A sub could just as easily be performing the same acts as part of their submission, but the framing of it, the mentality of why it's happening and what it does for the other person, is part of what makes it a contribution to the dynamic and the energy of the scene.

ANYWAY, that was really long especially since they're not *expressly* engaging in a negotiated full on D/s thing here (lol oops sorry but I figured you might be interested/wouldn't mind chatting about this more so I figured I'd go ahead and include it!), but this felt like such a perfect example of how someone might hold both of those thoughts of delighting in someone's responsiveness and submission while at the same time thriving on a situation in which being the more dominant actor is thrilling because it has to do with doing something that they know their partner wants. It put me in such a great space to hear Joel’s inner monologue of it all and I really, really, really loved it.

This comment is getting OUT OF HAND so I'm not going to keep talking your ear off, but the switch back to the reader's perspective was brilliant and the way Joel turned on his beautiful mouth once she was awake again made the contrast of everything that had come before it so, so, so good and it all was just delightful. I would absolutely have cried from the pleasure and safety of the space, too.

🧡

Maintenance Request Chapter 19

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 7.6k

chapter summary: you and Joel have your third date, a bit of a discussion, and try something new together when Joel stays at your place for the first time. 👀

a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕 fun fact, I wrote the second half of this chapter in a sort of fugue state, late one night during NaNo last year. I swear this just poured out of me. Joel knew what he wanted. 😂 happy chapter 19 on the 19th!

chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, food and drink mention, pet names (honey, gorgeous, darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, handsome, cowboy), kink negotiation, some discussion of past relationships, somnophilia (kissing, fondling, p-in-v sex), mention of breasts, dream sex, dirty talk, a bit of crying while being fucked (in a good way)

Chapter 19

Saturday, November 9 Eleventh week of the semester

The rest of the week was a whirlwind – you saw Joel for at least a few minutes every day, and you talked on the phone most nights. By Thursday, you had your next date planned. Sarah had a sleepover on Saturday, so Joel was going to stay the night at your apartment. For the first time. 

On Saturday, you caught Beth and Ellie up with your new relationship status – Beth had been pestering you about it since you’d told her about it over text (tell me everything!!) – and they immediately started complaining about how they hadn’t met him yet. 

“I know! I know,” you wanted to wave your hands in front of their faces to get them to chill out. “I was thinking I could invite him to brunch next week.” You took a big gulp of coffee and watched their reactions. 

Ellie narrowed her eyes and stared at you. Beth looked thoughtful. 

“You sure you want him to meet both of us at once?” Beth asked, and Ellie snorted. “Throw him in the deep end?”

You shrugged. “I mean, he can handle it or he can’t. But I’m pretty sure he can.” 

Beth smiled. “Fine with me. What about you, Hell’s Bells?”

Ellie glared at Beth for the nickname, as always, but you knew she secretly loved it. 

“I guess that’s fine.” She furrowed her brow and stabbed a piece of egg with her fork. “If he does anything weird or fucked up I’m not gonna ignore it.”

You nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to. But he’s not an asshole.” She squinted at you. “I know, Ells. But you know I trust you, right? If you did notice something, I’d want you to tell me. And I’d listen.” You knew you weren’t really talking about Joel, at this point, but you wanted her to know that anyway. She nodded and sighed. 

“Yeah I mean I do want to meet him. He can come to brunch.” Ellie shrugged.

“Thank you. I’ll ask him tonight.”

Beth nudged Ellie with her shoulder. “Maybe I can meet him this week for lunch, first, give you a full report.” Ellie laughed, but you could see the idea relaxed her a little bit. 

“Oh!” Ellie sat up straight. “What are you cooking for him?”

Beth pointed at you with a forkful of pancake. “Do not make soup.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time!”

Ellie smirked. “Even if you don’t create Soup Geyser: The Sequel, it’s probably not a good date food. What if you spill it all over yourself?”

Beth laughed. “I dunno, maybe that’s a good thing. Then you can take your clothes off.”

Ellie dramatically gagged and covered her ears. “I don’t want to know about that!”

You and Beth both laughed as she started in on a monologue about how men, and hearing about her aunt dating them, were gross.

…

Later that afternoon, you’d just finished cleaning up and making sure the food was almost ready when you realized you needed to change before Joel arrived. You stepped into your bedroom and stripped off your shirt at the exact moment you heard a knock at your door. Shit. 

You froze, not sure what to do, when he knocked again. “Shit,” you said out loud. You were standing in your bedroom in a lounge bra and sweatpants. How did you lose track of time so badly? You ran to the front door.

You hesitated once you got there but reasoned that Joel had already seen you naked, so you’d just open it and then run back to change. You nodded to yourself, and then opened the door, shielding your body behind it.

“Hey, darlin’, everything alright?” He looked like he’d been about to knock again. He eyed your bare shoulder.

“Sorry, Joel, wasn’t quite ready yet. You can come in and I’ll go change.” 

He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Guess I am a little early.” 

You laughed and invited him in, and watched as his eyes swept down your body. “You sure you need to change? I like this look.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Joel, go sit on the couch. I’ll be back in a minute.” He did as you said while you ran back to your room and changed into the outfit you’d picked out earlier (complete with some green lingerie underneath – it was his favorite color, after all). 

When you arrived back in the living room, you found Joel looking at the pictures lining your fireplace mantle. “I recognize Ellie and Beth,” he said. “Is this your sister?”

You stepped up next to him and nodded. “Yep. And our parents.” You continued on your photo tour for a few minutes, introducing Joel to your family as you went. He snaked an arm around your waist and leaned in behind you. 

“This shirt’s pretty on you, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You smirked at him over your shoulder. “Thought you liked the other look?” 

Joel grinned, unrepentant. “I can like both, can’t I?” You laughed and led him into your kitchen.

“Sure you can. Have a seat, dinner will be ready in just a sec.”

He sat, and soon enough you joined him and placed the food in the middle of the table, which you’d set earlier, before he arrived. You poured him a drink and dug in. He complimented the food, sincerely, which made you smile. 

“So, you’re officially invited to brunch next weekend.” Joel snapped his head up to meet your gaze. He looked surprised, and pleased.

“I am?”

You smiled. “Sure are. Got the Ellie-and-Beth stamp of approval.”

He grinned. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“We might do lunch with Beth during the week, first.” 

He nodded. “Whatever they want, darlin’. I want Ellie to be comfortable.” He reached over to squeeze your hand. “That’s the most important thing.”

“Thanks, Joel. I know she’s not actually my kid, but in some ways she is.” He tilted his head at you, considering your words. “Yeah, I know it’s confusing. Well, you know Ellie’s 14. My sister had her right out of high school.”

“Not too different from when I had Sarah.” You nodded.

“Yeah, she had a rough time. Ellie used to come stay with me a lot, even when she was really little. And then, um. Right after I finally broke up with Matt, Ellie actually lived with me and Beth for about…” you looked up at the ceiling, counting back in time. “About 2 years? Almost. When she was 9.”

Joel nodded, taking that in. “It makes sense that you’re so close.”

You smiled. “Yeah, hard not to be. And Beth helped a lot, so they’re pretty close, too. But my sister is doing a lot better now. She used to, um…” You trailed off, thinking through what you wanted to say. “Well, part of the reason Ellie is more wary of people I might date is that my sister dated, um, more than a few men, and they were in and out of their house all the time. That’s part of the reason she lived with me. Not all of it.” Joel nodded, face solemn. He squeezed your hand between his own. “But yeah, she’s doing a lot better. She’s a nurse, works a lot of weekends and nights. Ellie has her own room here and sort of comes and goes as she pleases. Their relationship is a lot better than it used to be, too.”

“That sounds like it was hard, to send her back.” You sighed. He was so good at seeing right to the heart of what you were thinking. And feeling.

“It was, and it wasn’t. I’m so glad they’re doing better, you know? But I do miss having her here all the time, even now. And now she’s a teenager and wants to be with her friends anyway.” 

He laughed a little. “I’m familiar with that change.” 

You laughed, too. “Yeah, I bet. But she’s doing well in school and she actually talks to her mom about her life, so I feel like it’s going pretty well. And I sort of have my sister back.”

Joel scooted his chair a bit closer to yours and put his arm around the back. “Sort of?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “Our relationship took a hit during all of that. But it’s getting better. We talk more now. She’s been teasing me about you.”

For a moment you both sat quietly as he considered what you shared and you leaned in to him, head on his shoulder. 

“Everything I learn about you impresses me more, sweetheart.” He murmured his words into your hair, and it made you shiver.

“What? Joel–”

“It’s true.” he squeezed you against him. “Not everyone would do that, you know. Even for family. It’s…” he sighed. “I love watching you get to know Sarah. I know I’m going to love seeing you with your niece. It’s just something special. Getting to know you in every way I can.” You leaned up to press a kiss to his chin and felt him smile in response. 

You were quiet again until you felt Joel shift underneath you. “Joel? What is it?” You leaned back to look at his face, and caught him staring at your cabinets with a frown on his face. “Joel.”

“Hmm?”

“Joel Miller, are you looking at my broken cabinet door and thinking about how you want to fix it?”

You watched as a flush took over his cheeks. “Maybe I am.” He sounded sheepish and you grinned.

“I don’t think I even have the tools you’d need. Sorry.” 

He shook his head, frowning at you playfully. “What, not even a hammer?”

“Ok, I probably have a hammer. And maybe, like, a couple of screwdrivers.”

He laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll fix it another time.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Darlin’,” he cut you off. “I’ll fix it.” He smiled at you, amused by your protest. “You know it won’t take me even five minutes.”

You laughed, loving his confidence. “Oh yeah? Well, who am I to argue with my Hot Maintenance Guy?”

He bit back on a smile and tilted his head. “Thought I was Hot Construction Guy?”

You grinned. “You are. And Hot Maintenance Guy, and Hot Gardening Guy. Whatever I’d seen you doing that day.” 

Joel laughed and pulled you into a short kiss. “Well, I’m definitely your maintenance guy. So I’m definitely gonna fix those cabinets.” You sighed, giving in.

“Not right now, though. We have better things to do.”

He perked up. “Oh? Like what?”

“Let’s clean up and then you’ll find out.” You winked as you stood to gather your plate.

Between the two of you, you made quick work of the dishes and leftovers. It was nice, doing something so domestic with Joel. You fit together by the sink and moved around each other in the kitchen like you’d done it before, like it was comfortable. You’d never smiled so much while doing dishes in your life.

“There is something I wanted to ask you about, honey.” You turned to look at him where he was washing a pot as you dried your plates. 

“Oh? About what?” You saw a tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth and narrowed your eyes. 

“Just about what you said, when we were in bed after our first date.” You flushed, feeling the heat enter your cheeks. But you also appreciated that Joel was bringing this up while you were doing something so totally unrelated to sex. So you could focus. Or try to, anyway.

“Yeah, I remember.” You bit your lip. 

He cleared his throat. “Ah, well, did you, um. Can you tell me more about what you like? And don’t like? I like the sound of it, you know that, but I’d never want to get it wrong.”

“Um, yes. I, well. I like waking up and already…” You took a deep breath and told yourself to act like a freaking adult. “I like to already be having sex, basically. To wake up with your mouth on– on my pussy. Or your fingers inside of me. Or your cock.” You felt more than saw Joel’s sharp intake of breath and smiled. “It’s difficult to do that last one without waking me up, but it’s my favorite.”

Joel coughed. “I, um, I really want that, too.” You finally met his gaze with your own and you could see how much he wanted it. You held your breath. “Shit, sweetheart, that sounds so fucking good. I just… since you’d be asleep, I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. Since I can’t check in with you.”

You put down the plate you’d finished drying five minutes ago and turned towards him, taking his hands in yours and drying them off with the towel. “I trust you, Joel. I know you’d do it how I wanted – make sure I’m ready, and all that.” You finished drying his hands and put the towel down on the counter before lacing your fingers through his. You considered your next words. “I don’t… we can use a safe word. We don’t have to talk about all of that right now.” He squeezed your hands in response. “But I do have one. We can use it, so you know when my reactions are good and if they’re not. I know I can’t use it while I’m asleep, but it could help.” He disentangled and lifted one hand to place it under your chin and guide your eyes back up to meet his. 

“I’d like that, honey. And I’d like to talk about that more later, what other things you might like. That we might like together. But we can take it slow.” You nodded, smiling. “And, um. Well. Remember when I told you there were issues with Sarah’s mom that she didn’t know about?”

You nodded. “I do, but Joel, you don’t have to explain now–”

“No, I mean,” he interrupted you but then took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say, part of it was that we weren’t really compatible. At all. She thought, well. That some of the things I like are…” He trailed off and you tilted your chin to press a kiss to the hand still cupping your face, encouraging him. “She thought I was strange for wantin’ ‘em. Like all the sweet things I like to call you, honey, and how I like to call you mine. To her it was too much, not what she wanted. We can talk about it more but like I said, we can take it slow. Figure it out together.” 

You felt the shiver run up your spine at the idea of learning what more he might like to try with you. “I just asked you to fuck me while I’m asleep, I think we can be honest with each other.” He grinned.

“So, tomorrow morning? Want me to try it?” You nodded. “I need to hear your words, sweetheart.” As he asked he slipped his right hand around the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His lips brushed yours and you shivered.

“Yes, Joel,” you felt your pulse pick up at the idea and heard the hitch in your breath.

“Yeah, baby? You’d want to wake up with me already inside you?” Your eyes fell closed and you nodded. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, just in front of your ear. “Maybe my fingers? Maybe my tongue?” He licked the shell of your ear. You shivered and your hips squirmed as you pressed your thighs together. “You want to wake up to find my cock already deep inside this pretty pussy?” 

“Yes, Joel,” you breathed again. “I love it. Yes, please —” you cut off as he gripped your chin in his hand. 

“Shhh, honey. Shit, what a good girl you are, letting me slip inside you while you’re asleep, huh? Take whatever I want? Give you what I want?” You sighed. “Can’t believe it. So fucking perfect for me.” He kissed your neck again as his thumb covered your lips, holding your mouth closed. He took a deep breath and relaxed again.

“Well, honey, I told you before. I’ll give you whatever you want. So I guess we’ll see in the morning, hmm?” You grinned under his finger and nodded. “But maybe we can get started right now.”

...

Sunday, November 10 Eleventh week of the semester

In the morning, Joel woke up first. Before he even opened his eyes, he felt the warmth — the warmth of the sun through the window, the bed beneath him, and the soft wonder of your body against his. You’d moved in the night, but not much. He was still wrapped around you, just with more space between your bodies, his right arm thrown across your waist. He blinked his eyes open slowly, careful not to move as he took in a deep breath and just looked at you.

You were on your side, turned away from him, but he could see the outline of your profile over your shoulder. You were peaceful in your sleep, mouth slightly open, eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. He stared, almost stunned to find you with him in bed again. How did I get so fucking lucky? 

As he looked at you, careful not to move his arm, your discussion from last night came back to him and suddenly he was hard. He was so fucking hard, his cock filling so fast it took his breath away as the blood rushed south. 

You wanted him to be inside of you when you woke up. It was a fucking dream even thinking about it. He wanted it, fuck, he wanted it so fucking bad, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. How could he manage it, without waking you?

He kept his breathing even, despite his cock urging him forward, and considered what to do. It was still early, and you’d told him you liked to sleep in on weekends. So maybe he had time on his side. (He always woke up early, because of Sarah.) The first thing he needed to do was get rid of his briefs.

Joel slowly, gently, pulled his arm up from around you. You shifted in your sleep, but he moved slowly and successfully snuck it away. You settled back into your pillow and remained deeply asleep. He sighed in victory.

Slowly, cautiously, careful not to shake the bed, he reached down to slide his briefs off, kicking them somewhere in the sheets. He watched you the whole time, but you breathed evenly, slowly. Still asleep. He smiled. Maybe he could do this.

He rolled back onto his side and considered you. You were a few inches from him. Maybe if he slowly came up behind you you’d snuggle into him in your sleep, making it easier to touch. He nodded to himself. That was probably the best way to start.

Slowly, trying to move like he was asleep himself, he scooted towards you on the bed until his chest came back into contact with your back. He slowed even more there, gently pressing against you until you responded in your sleep — your body titled back against his, moving unconsciously together until he had you spooned in front of him again. He was careful to angle his cock down, not to get it stuck against your ass. (Even though the thought of pressing in between your cheeks almost had him thrusting forward, overcome with want.)

Joel took a moment to breathe in his success. He had you wrapped in his arms again, and he could feel your naked ass pressed against his pelvis. It was so fucking good already. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He was close to what he wanted, but he didn’t want to fuck this up. 

He carefully curled his body so his hips moved forwards, and his breath caught as his cock almost arrived right where he wanted it. The tip poked at the join of your thighs, and he sighed. Now what? How would he get any closer? He paused to consider his options again.

But you, it turned out, were on board, even in your sleep. Suddenly you let out a tiny, breathless moan, and he stilled. Peering over your shoulder, he saw that you were still asleep. A dream? He grinned. He could work with that. 

Leaving his hips where they were for now, he lightly ran his fingertips up your torso until he was cupping your breast. He tried to use the lightest touch, to encourage your dream without waking you up. He teased the very tip of one finger over your nipple and your body relaxed against him, like you were a puppet and your strings were cut. He stilled again, but you were still asleep. He was on the right track.

He watched your face intently as he lightly teased your nipple with his fingertip. In your sleep, your mouth opened wider, and you sighed. He was mesmerized, watching as your tongue peeked out of your mouth, the tip just touching your bottom lip. He realized his own mouth was hanging open, the desire to lick inside yours almost palpable in the air around him. He suppressed a shiver. 

Suddenly, you tilted your head to the side and whispered something. He leaned closer, not quite hearing you. To his great joy, you did it again, and he realized you had whispered his name. “Joel…” he grinned. He had to have you, just like this. Had to give you exactly what you wanted. He just had to figure out what to do about your legs.

He looked down and saw that your feet were twisting in the sheets. He wondered if this was his chance. Lightly slipping from your breast, he slowly moved his hand down to your thigh. You muttered something, but a quick check showed him you were still very much asleep. He only needed an inch, at most.

Ever so lightly, he gripped your thigh and pressed to ease it upwards. You were so fucking responsive, even in your sleep — you followed his instructions perfectly and your thighs shifted just enough for his cock to slip between them. He gasped, and then stilled as his eyes quickly sought your face again. Still asleep. He moved back to his previous position, hand on your breast, before thrusting slowly forward. His cock lined up perfect against your slit, and his eyes almost rolled back when he realized how fucking wet you were. Again. Fuck. His cock glided smoothly against you and he had to fight to keep from letting himself thrust inside, from filling you up right then and there.

Joel teased lightly at your nipple as he gently pulled back again before thrusting his hips forward once more. This time his cock nestled inside your folds and he heard a breathy little moan punch itself out of you when the tip of his cock nudged your clit. He grinned. Yes. 

He kept that up for a few more thrusts — gentle movement, he told himself, slow and steady, so fucking wet, sliding so easily against you, fuck — watching your face like a hawk for any trace of wakefulness. 

On the next pass, his cock almost caught against your entrance, and he stifled a deep moan of his own. Fuck me. That was the final hurdle, he knew. How could he slip inside you without waking you up? He’d have to go slow, ease into you, so slow and smooth you’d never notice. 

He forced himself to keep his hands light, not to grip or pull or tug. At the same time his hips moved with almost terrifying precision. He knew you were wet enough, and still ready from last night. He just had to take the final step.

Joel took a deep breath and, eyes still locked on your face, let himself nudge at your entrance on the next thrust. He stopped there, just there, with the tip of his cock nestled right at the place he most wanted to be. 

His heartbeat was racing and he felt winded. He wondered if his pounding heart would wake you before his cock did.

Gently, so gently it almost knocked him out, he pushed forward with his hips. The head of his cock pushed against you before sliding past your entrance, stopping just inside. Joel realized his mouth was hanging open as he stared at you. He felt torn. He wanted to look down, to see, but he was afraid if he looked away even for a moment you’d wake up. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on your face.

He pushed forward again, and he felt his cock sink deeper inside you. Fuck. Your cunt was fucking perfect. He had no idea how you could be so fucking wet all the time. Were you always like this? You’d said it was just for him, but did that mean you were always like this around him? Shit. Hold it together. 

He was panting. He tried to keep it quiet, but it was so much. So fucking much. He blinked to keep his eyes from closing.

Joel took a deep breath, still focused on you, and took one more gentle thrust to slide himself all the way home. He bit down so hard on his lip to fight back a moan he was worried he drew blood. He realized he’d let go of your breast to clutch at the comforter beneath you and was in danger of leaning his weight forward to fall on top of you. He stilled. He panted. He stared at your face. 

You were somehow still asleep. How?

He took the gift he was offered and moved. His hips pulled gently back, and he felt every inch of your cunt squeeze tight around his cock as he pulled out, until only the head of his cock was left stretching your entrance open. He breathed in through his nose, and then breathed out steadily while thrusting back in at that same slow, infuriating pace. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.

He managed three or four more agonizing thrusts, doing everything he could to be silent and gentle, to keep you sleeping while he fucked you. He realized now the goal was for you to wake up, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He paused inside you after his next thrust, taking a deep breath, looking over your slumbering face. He started to smile. 

Slowly, gently, he leaned down towards your neck as he pulled almost all the way out of you again. As he slid home this time, just a tiny bit faster, he pressed a kiss to your neck, right under your ear. You moaned. His smile turned feral.

He continued like that, thrusting inwards and pressing kisses to your neck and your shoulder, getting wetter and sloppier each time. Your breaths started to come faster and faster, and then he noticed your hips were starting to push back against his. 

His eyes flew back to your face. He had to see it. He wanted to see the exact moment you woke up and realized he was doing as you asked, he was doing what you wanted. He was giving it to you just right.

He wanted to push you over the edge. On his next thrust he cupped your breast again, and your voice was clearer this time, calling out to him in your sleep. “Yes, Joel, yes,” he teased your nipple and thrust forward. “Joel,” you called out, brow furrowing. He knew it was coming. He stared at you, and on the next thrust, he pinched your nipple at the same moment his cock bottomed out inside of you. 

It was fucking heaven. Fucking transcendent. Your eyes flew open as you gasped, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Your hands grasped at nothing until they found his arm, and you clutched at him. He pulled out again and thrust back inside you, hard, and you cried out. He smiled.

“Good morning, honey.” His voice was deep and rumbling and fucking vicious. He thrust inside you again, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Your next breath sounded like a sob. “How’d you sleep?”

…

You were having the most amazing dream. Everything was warmth and pleasure and there was a man holding you and you knew it was Joel. Joel, wrapped around you. You were floating together, somehow, twisting together as he spooned you from behind, but somehow also kissed you and touched you, everywhere. You sighed. 

His embrace tightened and you hitched your leg over his. “Mm, that’s my good girl,” you heard him say, and it melted through you like hot chocolate. “That’s it, baby. Show me.” You weren’t sure what he wanted you to show him, so you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. “Fuck yeah, baby. Let me see that tongue.” 

Dream Joel, somehow spooning you and making out with you at the same time, licked your tongue as you stuck it out for him. The slide of your tongues together made you press your thighs tight. “You’re so goddamn hot baby,” he muttered in your ear while making out with you. You moaned back, somehow still kissing him, “Joel.” He grinned at you, wicked and intent. He bent down suddenly to lick at your nipples and you gasped. “Joel!” He smiled and you hummed at the feeling of him worshiping your tits. 

In your dream the two of you were floating upwards, towards something — there was light above you, and warmth below you. Everything felt amazing. 

Dream Joel ran his hands down your body, grasping at your hips and your legs. You smiled. “Love the way you look, honey,” he murmured, and you told him you loved the way he looked, too. He smiled. “Open up for me, then, sweet thing. Let me inside.” You did as he asked and opened your legs. Dream Joel, talented man that he was, managed to kiss you and eat you out at the same time, and you sighed into it, mouth opening for him again. And then you felt something warm and hard and gorgeous slide against your pussy. You sighed and pushed back onto it.

“Inside, Joel,” you tried to demand, your voice weak and breathy. He chuckled, darkly. “Not yet baby, wanna feel you.” He slid his cock back and forth against your soaking wet pussy and you moaned. “You feel so good on my cock, honey. You hear that?” You listened, and you heard him panting behind you, heard the slick glide of his cock as it nestled in your folds. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re so wet for me.”

“Always,” you sighed out. 

“I know you are, baby. Can’t stop thinking about it, about sneaking my fingers inside your underwear everywhere we go, see if you’re ready for me. Ready for me to slip inside you, no matter where we are.” 

You nodded. “Always ready for you, Joel. Always want you inside me. Want you inside me right now.”

“Honey I told you, I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t you worry.” Dream Joel slid back again, and on his next thrust his cock notched right at your entrance, and you sighed. “Yes, please, Joel.” 

“Shhh, honey. Just let me give it to you. I’ll give you whatever you want, you know that. All you have to do is lie there and take it.” You moaned as he pressed the head of his cock inside of you. It felt huge and perfect and warm and like you never wanted to be without it. 

Dream Joel rubbed his hands up your torso as he fucked into you from behind. “That’s it, honey. Take me inside you. Let me fill you up. Let me stuff my cum so deep inside of you it’ll be dripping out for hours.” Your breath caught at the idea and you started to breathe harder and faster. He pinched your nipples and thrust into you, hard. “Feel it, honey? Feel how perfectly my cock fits inside this cunt?” 

“Yes, Joel, yes,” you cried, almost crying for real. “I need it.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he crooned, softly. “You’re such a good girl, you know that? Such a good fucking girl for me. Letting me put my cock inside you whenever I want, letting me fill you up. Sitting on my cock like an angel. Like you were meant to be right here, in my lap.” Dream Joel thrust inside of you again, and you cried out. 

“Joel, please,” you sighed as your brows pinched together. The dream suddenly felt so real, so physical, you couldn’t figure out which way was up or down. You were spinning, falling, and when you crash landed back into your body you gasped.

Your eyes flew open and all you could feel was Joel. He was fucking everywhere. His body was pressed all along your back, his fingers pinched your nipple, his mouth was on your jaw. 

And his cock was hard, and it was deep, deep inside of you. 

Your head flew back as you gasped for air, staring up at the ceiling without seeing. Your hands grasped for purchase on something, anything that would hold you there, keep you from flying apart and spiraling into the air, until they found his arm and you held on for dear life. Suddenly Joel pulled his hips back and then thrust inside of you, hard. You cried out, maybe his name, maybe no words at all. Fuck. You needed to catch your breath. Your hips were pinned under his, your pussy wet and dripping and tightening around his cock. You could feel a tear slip from your eye to land on the pillow under your head. Fuck me. 

Before you could even try to make sense of your surroundings, to catch your breath, Joel’s lips found your ear.

“Good morning, honey.” His voice was deep and rumbling and fucking vicious. He thrust inside you again, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Your next breath came out like a sob. “How’d you sleep?” You felt a tear form at the edge of your eye again, and he curled forward to kiss it away. “Shh, baby, you’re ok. You’re so fucking good, honey, my good fucking girl.” He thrust inside of you again, and his cock slid against you so easily, so wonderfully, that you breathed through another sob. “Honey?”

You realized, distantly, that he was starting to worry about you. You squeezed his arm. You had to say something.

“Y— yes, Joel. Yes.” You felt him grin against your shoulder. 

“Yeah, honey? That feel good?” You nodded, frantically, reaching one hand back to grasp at his hip. “You want it bad, don’t you? Want this cock to split you open?” Your breath hitched, again. “Want me to push deep inside you, don’t you, sweet thing? Fill you up? Leave you fucking dripping?” 

Real Joel echoing Dream Joel spun you upwards again, disorienting you in your pleasure. You whined, and thrust your hips backwards towards him. He pulled out and slammed his cock back into you, pulling back on your hip to urge you onto him. “Fuck, honey, you need it, don’t you? You need it so bad.” You could only grasp at him and nod, feeling another tear run down the side of your face. He kissed that one away, too.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. You can have this cock whenever you want.” He thrust forward again, pinning you to the bed. Your right knee bent in front of you and he followed, curving his body into the same position, somehow driving his cock deeper. “It’s yours. Yours to use, honey. Yours to touch, to lick, to sit on whenever you want.” He started up a steady pace, pushing his cock inside of you so deeply, so right on every thrust. Your face was turned, left side on the pillow, profile still open to him. He pressed kisses everywhere he could reach.

“I’m going to make you come, honey. And I want to see it.” He curved his right hand over your hip, seeking out your clit with his fingers. “I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me, baby, squeeze me so fucking tight.” You sighed into the pillow. “Can you do that for me? Yeah, ‘course you can. Be a good girl, honey, and come for me.”

His fingers started circling your clit, and you felt it building inside of you like a tidal wave. It was almost too much, so much, more than you could handle. You were actually crying now, tears running down your face that he kissed away. “J— Joel,” you whined, and he twisted to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“That’s right, honey. Let me have it. It’s mine.”

Something about the way he claimed it, claimed you, sent you over the edge. You flew over it, into the air, twisting, falling, electrified. The orgasm erupted through you, and you felt more wet gush out of you, absolutely soaking his cock. He groaned. 

“Holy fucking shit, honey. Yes. Fucking give it to me.” He talked you through it, pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. It shuddered through you and you clamped down on him as your orgasm crested. You sobbed one more time, and he bit down on your shoulder to ground you.

As you came down, you realized his hips were speeding up. You whined and thrust your hips backwards again. You wanted it. You wanted him, inside of you, dripping out of you, like he promised. He nodded, seeming to understand.

“That’s right, honey. I’m going to give it to you. That’s what good girls get, right? And you were perfect, honey. My good fucking girl.” You clutched at the pillow as you pushed your hips back, trying to tilt them to give him the best angle. He sank deeper, somehow, and moaned. “I’m going to give it to you so deep, baby, so fucking deep.” He sighed, dreamily. “Fuck.”

His thrusts picked up, and you let yourself drift, feeling perfectly used as Joel pumped his hips into yours. His thrusts caught, uneven, and you heard him groan from deep in his chest. He clutched at you, with one final, devastating thrust, and came. His mouth was hot on your ear as he said your name in a voice that made it sound like a prayer.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You were both breathing hard, and you were a fucking mess — wet, everywhere — cum all over, sweaty, and tears that had dripped down your face and soaked your pillow. 

Joel sucked in a deep breath and carefully, gently, pulled out of you. You still gasped — you were sensitive from the night before, still, and he’d just fucked you so hard you’d cried, for god’s sake — but he was so soft and gentle with you that it barely hurt.

He flopped to your left on the bed, and with a groan, you heaved yourself onto your right side so you could look at him. You fell in the wet spot, but honestly, the entire bed was probably a wet spot at that point.

He turned his head, and for a minute you just looked at each other. You’d thought you’d seen him wrecked before, but that was nothing. You could see, now, what it actually looked like. And he was wrecked. You imagined you were the same. His hair was wild, his face was awestruck. He was red and sweaty and fucking beautiful. 

Slowly, he started to smile, and you returned it. Then he laughed, and you laughed back. Soon you were both giggling into your pillows, curled towards each other, linking fingers in the damp sheets.

Joel took a deep breath, and managed to stop giggling long enough to say, “I think you might have killed me, honey. Can’t move my legs.” You giggled and buried your face in the pillow. “No, I’m serious. First you knock me over with the idea of fucking you awake, much less telling me to do it? Jesus, I almost came before I ever got inside of you, trying to figure out how to do it without waking you up. Best fucking idea I’ve ever heard, honey, shit. Holy fucking shit.” He sounded winded, and awestruck. Like he couldn’t believe that just happened. “You were so beautiful, baby, taking it so well, even in your sleep. Couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.” He sighed, grinning. “Jesus, when can we do it again? I wanna do it again. How’s every goddamn morning sound to you?” You laughed outright. He cleared his throat. “Was it, um. Was it what you wanted?” He looked hopeful, and a tiny bit worried. You didn’t know how he could be, not after you came harder than you ever had in your life. So you told him that.

“Joel. I just came harder than I ever have in my entire life.” You figured he needed to hear it, and his answering grin told you he appreciated it. “I can’t feel my legs, either.” He laughed, and you tracked it across his face. Beautiful. “It was so fucking perfect. I was having the best dream about you, I guess because of what you were doing to me for real, and then suddenly the dream and reality came together and I— fuck.” You closed your eyes against the memory of that moment. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“It was fucking beautiful to watch,” he murmured, eyes traveling over your face and chest. “Never seen anything like that, either.” 

You smiled. “In my dream you were fucking me from behind, and it just… melted into real life. I felt like I fell back into myself and couldn’t tell up from down in the best fucking way.” You bit your lip. “Every morning, huh?” He winked at you. “I dunno, if you make me come like that every day I might not make it to work.” He laughed, and finally reached for you again. You went easily as he pulled you into his chest, pressing your bodies together. You sighed, sinking into him happily. 

“You fit so well in my arms, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your hairline. “Let’s just stay right here, for a while.”

You hummed, agreeing, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. You were both quiet for a moment, just letting the moment wash over you, when you felt him tense.

“Joel?” You questioned lightly, wondering what he was thinking. 

“I, um,” he cleared his throat. “Just want to make sure of something, honey. You were, well, the crying. Was that… ok?” He sounded so careful, so worried, it made your heart clench.

“Yes, Joel. That wasn’t just ok.” You tilted your head back to meet his eye so he could see the sincerity on your face. “It was exactly what I wanted. It was perfect.” He relaxed, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Sometimes I cry during sex. Not all the time, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing when it happens. Like just now, it was a really, really good thing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he nodded, “but I wanted to make sure I was reading you right. Would be a pretty upsetting thing to get wrong.”

The two of you nestled back into each other, holding tight, breathing in deep together as you came down from the intensity of the sex you’d just had. It had been beautiful, and rough, and exactly what you wanted, and now you were worn out. In his arms was exactly where you wanted to be.

After a while you started to doze off again, but you didn’t want to sleep the morning away, so you shook yourself back awake. You stretched, idly, and you felt Joel’s gaze on you. You looked up to find him admiring your legs as you stretched them along the bed.

“See something you like, cowboy?” 

He smiled. “You know I do, gorgeous.” 

“Want to get up, grab some breakfast, maybe?” Joel smiled and nodded, but pulled you in rather than letting you get up.

“Maybe in a few minutes.” 

You smiled.

…

Joel drove you to a diner about halfway between your apartment and his house. You’d never been there, but had driven past it many times, and told him so.

“This is a favorite of ours,” he told you as you both climbed out of his truck. “Sarah usually demands it at least once a month. We have family breakfast with Tommy.” You smiled at the thought.

Breakfast was easy, full of easy conversation and light teasing. Joel snuck some of your food and you retaliated by drinking some of his coffee. His feet nudged yours under the table as he grinned at you, and you rested your chin in your hand to watch him watch you across the table. It really drove home for you how much you liked being around Joel. The sex had been mind-blowing, obviously, like always, but you’d also spent weeks circling each other before finally starting to get to know each other over lunches and coffees and now dates. Every moment you spent with him showed you there was something more, here. It was in the way he couldn’t look away from you, the way he listened so carefully, like he always did, as you told him silly stories about the diner in your hometown. The way he remembered tiny details from everything you’d ever told him. You felt yourself falling, just like you’d told Beth. 

It was scary, but it was also pretty wonderful.

...

a/n: 😏

prev | next

tag list: @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin

@myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123

@joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites

@fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes

@islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @spacedoutdaydreamer

@littlevenicebitch69 @secretelephanttattoo @pigeonmama @vickie5446 @verymiraclemiracle

#tlou #chaptered #ongoing #read #author: burntheedges

[toomanytookas]

just wanted to send you some love because not only are you the sweetest, but you’re also so incredibly kind with your thoughts and comments and I know you know how much I sob over them, but I also wanted to immortalise that fact here too.

I appreciate you, ily 🩷✨

Jo!!! I’ve been sat here for a good while trying to figure out how to adequately voice how I’m feeling having received this... I think the closest I can get is to say that—akin to your writing—this is like the biggest, warmest, most comforting hug and I am sending you one right back.

So grateful for you. ilysm. 💕

[toomanytookas]

Oh, oh, oh… El, this is so tender and beautiful and I am already *so* obsessed.

You’ve done such a beautiful job of highlighting moments that show us both Marcus and the readers’s lingering grief and love for their past partners. The language and imagery was just so wonderful and compelling and echoed with so much emotion.

I am genuinely in love with how you used Eve’s memorial tree to convey how much time has passed. And the fact that Marcus picnics there???

This was such a visceral passage: He notices how it’s covered in watermarks today from the rain that fell last night and buffs it to a shine with his sleeve. He’s used to this now, seeing her name written there, Eve Moreno. The pain is no longer sharp but dull and cloudy.

And then those moments with the reader… I feel like I know her voice already from this and we’ve just barely met. Look, there’s no point in my quoting everything back to you since you wrote the dang thing, but I can’t help but tell you that I loved both of these bits:

“Well, thanks, Alex.” You say to a crack on the ceiling. “People keep asking me when I’m going to take it off, and I guess you’ve made the decision for me.”

all those years of sharing the space with a starfish shaped man are seemingly a habit you can’t break

And I loooooooved how you give us such wonderful textures to imagine, too. Your descriptions of all of the storefronts were incredible! I want to move to this town!!! Let me loose in this stationery store!!!!!

I was grinning like mad reading their first meeting. So much chemistry already!

I can’t wait to see where we go from here. This story feels sooooo special.

Series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter moodboard

Afterword

Series summary: A story about hope and new chapters.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+

See the series masterlist for more information and for tropes/warnings.

Chapter 1

Marcus takes the final bite of his sandwich, turkey slices and salad leaves which he doesn't want but thinks he should eat, and scrunches up the aluminium foil into a ball before stuffing it in the pocket of his leather jacket. He brushes a few crumbs off his jeans, glances at his watch, and decides it’s probably time to head back to work.

He has a good viewpoint from this spot at the top of the hill. He can see the slate grey lake at the bottom and the neat park behind it. The last of the summer flowers still shine from the flowerbeds, and he can hear the distant rusty squeak of the swings.

A symphony of squawks overhead pulls his attention upwards towards the V-shaped formation of a flock of geese as they begin their annual migration towards somewhere warmer.

Ten summers. That’s how many he’s watched slide into autumn from here. He’s seen the tree behind him grow from a sapling to a teenager and watched the plaque underneath it become tarnished and weathered. He notices how it’s covered in watermarks today from the rain that fell last night and buffs it to a shine with his sleeve. He’s used to this now, seeing her name written there, Eve Moreno. The pain is no longer sharp but dull and cloudy.

His knees protest as he pulls himself up off the ground and folds up the tartan picnic blanket he’d been sitting on, holding it under one arm. He follows the winding path back towards the small parking lot, past other trees with other names and dates, and reaches his car just as yet more fat raindrops begin to fall from the sky.

He shucks off his jacket, lays it flat on the passenger seat, and flexes his hands on the steering wheel. It’s always hard to leave this place, to step back into the noise of ‘real life.’ Whatever that means.

He flicks through the radio channels and lands on the local talk radio station. He doesn’t quite catch who they’re interviewing, but the pleasant tone of the conversation washes over him. The discussion is evidently being done over the phone, and the line keeps breaking up. He thinks he hears the warm, cheery female voice name his neighbourhood as a place she’s moving to, and perhaps something about a book. It’s hard to hear over the rain and the creak of the wiper blades.

He swings the car onto the busy road and sets off back towards town, hoping today’s long lunch break sees him through to closing.

---

You hop out of the removal truck cabin, landing on the wet pavement with a less than graceful thud. You fiddle with the straps of your dungarees and regret choosing them as your moving day outfit. The aesthetic was cute, but peeling them off in the rest stop bathroom on your journey here was less so.

You take the front door key out of the envelope in your pocket. It has a little card tag attached with No.14 written on it in neat cursive.

You unlock your new front door and push it open, a small stack of mail and take-out menus, making it resist slightly as they drag across the mat. Dust motes glitter in the empty hallway as you step inside, and you're relieved to get that homely feeling again that you’d had when you originally viewed this place.

The removal guys roll up the back door of the truck with a metallic slam, and you hear them begin their well rehearsed routine of emptying a home into a house.

The older one, Ernie, trudges through to the kitchen with your coffee machine, drops it onto the counter, and plugs it in. “Priorities.” He winks.

You let them get on with their work and try not to get under their feet too much. The upstairs is soon filled with boxes and furniture, and the younger man, Stan, even fixes the runner on your dresser drawer, which had been broken for longer than you care to remember.

The rain, which began as a fine drizzle, is now pouring, and you’re glad for all your sakes that the truck is nearly empty.

Ernie lifts a box (which you know you overfilled) and stumbles on the uneven damp pavement. The box slips from his hand and lands in a deep puddle in the gutter, its contents spilling out.

It looks like junk. You know it does, but those were what you might generously call your ‘writing materials’.

For as long as you could remember, you’d feared the blank page. But worse than that, any new page. You only let yourself write on ‘old’ paper, scraps of things, the backs of old letters or even pieces of cardboard packets, until you felt like the idea was good enough to type up onto a screen. You envied people who had the confidence to open up a fresh notepad and let themself mark it with their ideas.

You pick up the sodden, sad remnants and dump them straight into the trash can in the kitchen. It had taken you forever to amass all that old paper, and you are about to start planning your next book.

Your hands are drenched from the rain and the wet paper, and as you shake them dry, your wedding ring slips from your finger. You hear the metallic ping of it against the floor, see it bounce, then roll and almost in slow motion slide between a crack in the wooden slats and out of sight.

You crouch down onto your knees and peer into the gap. You can’t see anything, and you’re not about to start pulling up the beautiful antique oak floorboards, which had pretty much sold the house to you.

You sit back on your heels and look upwards, rubbing your palms against your thighs.

“Well, thanks, Alex.” You say to a crack on the ceiling. “People keep asking me when I’m going to take it off, and I guess you’ve made the decision for me.”

You sigh out a laugh, small but it bounces off the empty walls, and it hits you that he isn’t here. It catches in your throat, and you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand before giving yourself a firm “No” under your breath.

“Now if anyone asks, I’m telling them my husband is under the floorboards.”

---

You're disorientated for a moment when you wake up the next morning. The frenetic traffic noise from your old place is replaced with a welcome quiet.

You still sleep perched right on the edge of the bed, all those years of sharing the space with a starfish shaped man are seemingly a habit you can’t break.

You lean over and pick up your phone from your nightstand. You’d passed out exhausted after yesterday’s long day and had a fair few messages to reply to from people wanting to know if the move had gone smoothly.

Today was Saturday, and you needed to pick up a few things in town, which was a pleasant short walk away.

Remembering poor Ernie and his mishap with your box of 'treasure', you open up google and type in ‘stationery stores near me’.

---

You walk down the town high street, pop the last piece of a croissant from your inaugural bakery trip into your mouth, and take a look at the scribbled shopping list clutched in your other hand.

Curtain rings

Toilet roll holder

Light bulbs….

The list goes on and on, and it doesn’t get much more interesting. You curse the previous owners for taking anything that wasn’t nailed down with them, revenge for your below offer asking price perhaps.

You round a corner and look up from the list to see a pretty row of shops. The storefronts are all a little crooked and weather beaten, a far cry from the gleaming glass and chrome of the street they neighboured.

There’s a tiny florist, an archway of foliage and flowers curves over its door, and the paving slabs outside are crowded with a hodgepodge of buckets filled with seasonal blooms in oranges, pinks and reds.

Next to it, a jewellery store stands proudly, with a wooden door painted in a deep forest green and golden hand-painted lettering above the window. A woman steps out and admires the watch on her wrist, turning it this way and that and smiling to herself as the metal strap catches the light.

The final store is the one you’re looking for. The pencil silhouette etched on the brown framed curved window tells you you’re in the right place and you step inside.

The bell tinkles above your head, and you’re surprised by how far back this unimposing place stretches and how full of people it is, even for a Saturday.

You pick up a small wire basket from beside the door and take a measured walk around, dodging the other patrons. This feels like a big step, as silly as it seems, letting yourself try something new. You run through the list in your head, you’ll need notebooks, highlighters, post-its, and maybe some pens.

No, pencils. Pencils are more forgiving.

This place is like an Aladdin’s cave. The wooden shelving units are stacked almost to the ceiling with art materials, calligraphy supplies, reams of paper, piles, and piles of notebooks in every shape and size imaginable. You notice a wooden ladder attached to a rail that looks as though it can slide the whole length of the shelves and wonder how much fun it would be to sail along on it.

You pick up a rainbow of assorted items and hook the now heaving basket over your elbow. The writing supplies are towards the cash register at the front of the store and you’re charmed by the array of pencils on offer. It looks like a wall of Pic ‘n Mix sweets, all brightly coloured in their clear Perspex boxes. You run your hand through a pile on instinct and feel the cool wood roll over your fingertips. You pick up pretty much one of every type, not knowing which will feel right for your book two scribbles, and head to the counter to pay.

The queue is several people deep and moving slowly. Everyone seems to be catching up with the store assistant, and you can hear a steady stream of laughs and gentle enquiries up ahead. You pull your phone out of your pocket and respond to a few more messages asking how you’re getting on, and try to put people off from visiting until you’ve at least got your bearings.

You shuffle forwards with your eyes down on the screen until the toe of your shoe bumps into the counter.

You haul the basket up and slide it over to the man behind it, half expecting to be greeted by a surly teenager at this time on a Saturday.

The man who is actually there looks familiar somehow, like he was on a TV show or the news or something. He throws you a friendly “Hello” and your eyes flick quickly from his face to his grey t-shirt clad shoulders and to the practical, yet distracting, sight of his tan coloured leather apron and the way it frames him.

Apparently you're noticing handsome men again now. This is new.

“Stocking up?” The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and you’re not sure why you notice this small detail, but you're glad that you do. You want to keep looking at him.

“Something like that. I’m a writer. Well, sort of. I’m not writing at the minute, but I’m hoping all this stuff,” you gesture to the large pile between you both, “will help get me started again.”

He probably didn’t need your life story, but the words just keep flowing.

He scans the items, your conversation punctuated by the pip of the barcode scanner. “A writer, huh? Haven’t seen you around at our artistic waifs and strays events.”

“I just moved here, actually. Just yesterday.” You drum your fingers against the lacquered wood. “Only from an hour away, but it might as well be the other side of the country for how many people I know here.”

He reaches out his right hand and shakes yours. “Then let me welcome you to the area, and to The Stationery Stop.”

You feel a tingle across your palm, something like a static shock but gentler, like a buzz.

“That’s two stops.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“Stationery….Stop…it means the same. Although they are spelt differently, I never remember which is which.” You shrug and turn your credit card over and over in your hands.

“Do you know you’re the first person to ever make that joke, and I’ve been waiting two years for it?” He smiles and scans the last of your notebooks before picking up your array of pencils. “And you’ve chosen all my favourite things.”

The deep brown eyes partially hidden behind his thick, dark-rimmed glasses are kind and soft. You can see why the line ahead of you was so long. He feels like a friend you've known for a long time.

He passes you your items, wrapped carefully in tissue paper and string, piled inside a pale green paper carrier bag, and hands you a flyer from a tidy pile on the counter.  “You’d be welcome to join us, by the way. We meet on Thursday nights.”

You speed read the glossy paper. “Pencils and Pals?” You laugh.

“I know.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not good at that type of thing, but it’s better than Artists Anonymous, which was my first idea.”

You bid him goodbye and barely register how freely you’re swinging the bag in your hand as you walk back down the street and finish reading through the flyer.

His phone number is listed on the bottom, and a name; Marcus Moreno.

Next chapter

Taglist

@missladym1981 @rhoorl @tuquoquebrute @5oh5 @anavatazes

@stevie75 @ranahx @darkheartgatita @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @titlee78

@amyispxnk @nerdieforpedro @katareyoudrilling @maried01 @survivingandenduring

@pedrit0-pascalit0 @casa-boiardi @iloveenya @lwfics

@msjarvis @heareball @yorksgirl @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept

@khindahra

@inept-the-magnificent @auteurdelabre @trulybetty @lizzie-cakes @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain

@julesonrecord @magpie-to-the-morning @burntheedges @schnarfer @imaswellkid

@janaispunk @sin-djarin @604to647 @toomanytookas @bubble-pop-eclectic

@djarinmuse

@fuckyeahdindjarin @titabel

#we can be heroes #chaptered #read #ongoing #author: secretelephanttattoo #pedropascalfandombingo

[toomanytookas]

AAAAAAAH. Hopefully interesting??? *Hopefully*? Try INCREDIBLY.

I totally agree that kink negotiation and planning are such interesting ways to explore the state of a relationship and really demonstrate levels of care and trust and feeling comfortable enough to be both vulnerable and liberated in sharing your desires with your partner... I think one of my favourite things about how you've included it in Maintenance Request is that it came up so 'early' (obviously it's all relative) because the reader felt so safe with Joel. It really signaled to me how comfortable she already was in their relationship, even with her early anxieties from her past dripping in, and of course you already know how much I appreciated how Joel responded to her sharing and the potential for engaging in her fantasy later down the line (and omg did I enjoy the later of it... I'll save it for my chapter comment, which I'm hoping to get to writing this afternoon!).

I also like what you said about being kind of open/flexible as a reader. I think I'm in a similar camp where one of the things that I enjoy is seeing how authors can take different elements of a character and flavour them with kink in a way that can sway me towards seeing them in one way or another. I definitely have certain versions that I will gravitate towards when it comes to straight up pwp because I tend to , but then sometimes I will come a cross a totally opposite or novel version of a character's kinks or alignment with an archetype and just get blown away by how well it fits for the character!

I loooooove all of the little details you mentioned and am particularly obsessed with your thoughts about Marcus P. I've really loved his characterisation in the fics you've posted with him so far and hope you'll revisit him and perhaps a bit of his dom energy sometime soon (not me just realising that this is 100% backed up by my poll vote! hahaha).

Thanks for such a detailed response, Kate! It was fun to see into your brain a bit about this (and obviously it gave me a lot of thoughts in response hahah). Congratulations again on your milestone. :D

Happy 600, Kate!! I’ve got a bit of a spicy ❓ for you:

I heartily appreciate Maintenance Request’s somno journey (👀👀👀) and love how you have explored/referenced elements of discovery, negotiation, and scene planning across your fics that include some kinky things. ✨

Are there any kinks that you headcanon for specific PPCU characters or BDSM archetypes that you think fit them well? Do you find that their interests and preferences as you write them vary depending on the story that you are telling and/or the details of who their partner/the reader (character) is?

You’ll find me at the munch table keeping an eye out in case any of the boys stop by… 😉😳 🤭 ~ M @toomanytookas

M!! thank you! 🧡 @toomanytookas I love this ask 😂 I saved it for now to go up around when the chapter does. I got a little carried away lol

As you noticed, I like exploring the negotiation and planning of kink, like... a lot. I feel like it's a really interesting way to deepen characterization and explore the developing relationship between characters. (how comfortable are they? do they trust each other? etc.)

So on the one hand, I'm the type of fanfic reader that can see a lot of possibilities for many individual characters. Like, a fic can convince me someone is more of a dom and another fic can convince me they're not. That's one of my favorite things about fic in general -- how much we can explore characterization and details like that and still have the characters be recognizably themselves.

On the other hand, I do tend to see them certain ways when I write them myself, but like you said I think I lean into it more or less depending on the fic and the relationship I've built/am building between the two people.

For example, I do think of Joel as someone who enjoys having control, but what that looks like in practice depends a lot on the fic, the plot, the situation they're in, their relationship... and I think pre- and post-outbreak Joel express that in different ways. So anything from like, actual dom!Joel with referenced kink negotiation and exploration (like the amazing relationship explored in @atticrissfinch's series that starts with Gimme What I Want - read the tags) to a Joel who is just a little bit more in charge in bed -- I think anything like that fits within his characterization in my mind. It depends on the story, the premise, the setting, the relationship, etc. And I think of Joel as someone who wants to/needs to let go of control sometimes, too, and that is also interesting to explore in fic.

For some of the other characters, here's just a few things I associate with them, but that might look different in different fics:

Din and Dave like to watch (in various ways)

Din is extremely into taste and touch, and that can express itself in various kinks depending on the story

Javi P is into overstimulation and exhibitionism

Marcus P is more of a dom to me, but that would look different in different fics, and always focused on his partner's pleasure

Frankie likes it both ways depending on what he needs/wants and what his partner needs/wants

Yeah so overall I think I tend to think more about the relationship and the characters and then the kinks, I guess? Does that make sense?

Slight spoilers for Maintenance Request under the cut (for anyone who hasn't read up to chapter 18) --

In Maintenance Request Joel is a little bit more in control, a little bit dominating in bed, but not a lot. It's more that he's driving things a lot of the time. (in my head these two explore various kinks more explicitly in the future)

anyway that was a lot lol. hopefully interesting?

followers celebration

#just chattin #author: burntheedges