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ruh--roh-raggy · 5 months

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Home Sweet Home (William Afton x Wife! Reader) - Pt. 1

Hello hello! So, I'm fully insane about this man rn. I can't help it. The brain rot has taken over my life and here we are lol. I wanted to write something that really focuses on the domestic fluff side of Reader's life with William, of course there will be some smut thrown in there too because I simply can't help myself 😂😂 Reader and William have just bought their first house together. This story follows their week long escapade of unpacking, making their home perfect, and going down memory lane. Lots of super cute stuff, chapters containing smut will be updated with proper warnings. If you enjoy this story and would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT AHEAD, smut marked with divider, age gap (reader in 30's William in 40's/50's), some swearing, face sitting, cockwarming, size kink, a singular (1) spank to readers ass, slightly dom! William, praise, Will just wants to give his wife some tender TLC after a long day of lugging boxes around (if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,538

Part 2

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“I want to paint the living room green, I think it would look nice with our couch.” William drove down the road, a soft smile on his face as he listened to you ramble on about all of your plans for their new house. Business at the pizzeria had skyrocketed, which meant that he could finally give his pretty little wife the front porch, white picket fence house of her dreams. You should be pulling in about a half hour before the moving truck is scheduled to arrive, allowing the two of you time to empty out his trunk. You stood at his side with a giddy smile on your face, William thumbing through his key ring to find the new shiny gold addition to his collection. He slides the key into the lock, chuckling at your excited squeals as he pushes the door open. He grabs you by the wrist, stopping you from running inside ahead of him.

“Isn’t there some old wives tale about carrying your wife over the threshold of a house?” He mumbles out the vague details he could remember. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck with a giggle.

“It’s for good luck. Why? Do you want to carry me inside?” You smile coyly up at him.

“Well I’m not going to be the one bringing bad luck into our house.” He proclaims proudly, jabbing a finger into his chest. You let out a shriek as he scoops you up in his strong arms. You press a kiss to his scruffy cheek as you pass through the door. “Well, Mrs. Afton, welcome home.” He smiles down at you.

You spun around the empty living room floor, broom in hand as you did a quick sweep before the furniture got brought in. “Oh, Will, I'm so happy. Our own house.” You beam up at him. Your husband breathes out a chuckle, sweeping you up in his arms as he places a kiss to your forehead. Both of your attention was drawn to the windows as the moving truck rumbled into the driveway.

“Don't lift anything too heavy.” He orders with a firm point of his finger. “I hired movers so you don't have to struggle, if I see you doing too much you're going to be in big trouble later bunny.” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around him as you place a kiss to his chest.

“I promise I won't work too hard.” You fidget with the hem of his shirt. “I just want everything to be perfect.” You sigh with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“I promise it will be, we have the whole week to get everything exactly how you want it.” He smiles, his thumb rubbing languidly across your waist. You excitedly threw open the front door, directing the movers inside before clamoring out to the truck yourself. William trailed after you, keeping a close eye on your excited figure. Your husband loved how passionate you were about everything you did, but you also had a tendency to overwork yourself. He sighs as he sees you struggling with a box, gently taking it from your hands and propping it against his hip. He glances around the trailer. “Here.” He nudges a box with his foot, one he had made a subtle marking on to signify it was one he packed light enough for you to easily carry. “Take that one, we’ll go put these in the bedroom.” He hops down from the back of the truck, taking your box from you and wrapping his hands around your waist to lower you safely to the ground. You practically skipped up the porch steps, scooting past the movers as you raced up to the master bedroom. Your mattress sat in the middle of the room. The white, sheetless bed was a stark contrast to the nearly black hardwood.

“We’ll need to go get a bed frame.” You sigh, setting down the box before collapsing on the mattress. William groans as he lays down by your side.

“I’m sure we’re going to have to get a lot of things.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him. “We’ll take care of everything, doll, don’t worry.” You spent the rest of the afternoon sliding furniture around downstairs while the movers brought in the rest of the boxes. The sun had already set by the time everything was brought in. You collapsed onto the couch with a tired groan, finally kicking your shoes off as you sank into the worn leather of the cushions. William sits beside you, lifting your feet only to drop them back in his lap. You let out a pleased hum as you feel his strong hands knead into your aching muscles. “Day one is officially over.” The two of you exchange a sleepy high five. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you take a moment to look at your husband. His gold, wire framed aviators sitting low on his nose, his large calloused hands massaging your feet with the utmost care and delicacy. You were William’s entire world.

“Honey,” he perks up at your soft voice, calling out to him, “how about I throw something together for dinner so we can get to bed.”

“I don’t think we have any groceries bunny.” He rebuttals with a chuckle. “Are you up for a drive? We could go pick up some pizza.”

“But it’s so cold.” You pout.

“I’ll go grab you one of my coats, sweet girl.” He cups your cheek, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by you. You let out a soft hum as you buried your face into the soft fabric of your husband's coat, the comforting smell of his spicy, musky cologne, machine oil, and cigarettes filling your nose. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, allowing you to cuddle into his side as he drove up twisting back roads. The radio crackled softly, whatever song was playing was barely audible over the car's loud blower. You rested your hand on his thigh, William glancing down quickly, the sight of your wedding ring glinting in the soft light bringing a smile to his lips. He loved the fact that you were all his, his pretty wife, his little bunny. He loved how sweet and delicate you were. He had been hardened by years of working in his workshop and other strenuous jobs he had throughout his life, he barely registered this evening was brisk let alone cold. But he definitely wouldn't complain about you cuddling into his side for warmth, how your cheeks and the tip of your nose dusted pink from the chilly night air, how your fingers trembled as you tucked them under his thigh. He shuddered softly as you pressed your lips to his neck, the buzzing, yellow light from the pizza shop's sign illuminating the cab as you and your husband exchanged a look filled with need.

“Hurry back.” You shoot him a coy smile as he stumbles from the car.

The smell of warm crust and greasy pepperoni filled the car, the pizza nicely heating your lap. William’s arm draped over your shoulder, you allowed the rumbling car ride to rock you into his side. Your eyelids grow heavy as you try to keep yourself awake, a sleepy smile crawling across your features as you pull into the driveway. You sighed as you looked around at the mess of moving boxes, your dining table tucked away into a corner that would be too much work to get to. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch doll, I’ll be right back.” William’s hand quickly slips into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as he passes by. You flop back into the cushions, letting the pizza box rest next to you. Even with the short amount of time you’ve spent in the house you could tell how different it was from your old apartment. You and William had moved to the middle of the woods in Hurricane, your nearest neighbor at least ten minutes down the road. There were no sounds of your neighbors talking quietly through the walls, no footsteps of the dog that lived upstairs. The house was completely silent, outside completely pitch black. You jumped as William’s feet started to thud down the stairs. He pushes into the living room with a groan, dragging your mattress behind him. He drops the bed in the middle of the floor with a dull thump, twisting side to side in order to stretch out his back. “I’ll go grab some pillows and blankets.” He smiles at you.

“It’s just like our honeymoon.” You laugh as he pulls you up from the couch. He tilts your chin up with his finger, capturing your lips with his.

“Oh, trust me,” he starts in a sultry tone, “I wish I could spend this entire week in bed with you.” You dropped down onto the mattress, a soft sigh falling from your lips as he massages your shoulders. You smile at him as you watch him disappear upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a box full of your bedding and some pillows. Deciding you weren’t up for the challenge you left the sheets in the box. You piled your comforter and a few throw blankets onto the bed, you crawled in before your husband joined you with the pizza. You two sit side by side, your head falling to rest against his shoulder.

“It’s no Freddy’s.” You grumble at your lackluster pizza. William chuckles in response to your pouting.

“How about we swing by and see Henry tomorrow, I’m sure I can sneak you a piece.” He winks with a lopsided grin.

“That sounds perfect.” The two of you chat quietly as you eat your dinner. Your new house feels too big for just the two of you. You laid on your back, staring at the exposed wood ceiling, you blinked a few times to adjust to the all consuming darkness after William had turned off the light. You felt the blankets shift as he crawled into bed next to you. His silhouette outlined by the soft, pale light of the moon that streamed through the window.

“We should get a dog.” He suddenly whispers, making you giggle. “I don’t want you to get scared all by yourself.” He teases.

“Maybe that’ll get you out of that workshop earlier.” He playfully rolls his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“You know, there’s nothing stopping you from coming to visit me.” He argues with a slight shrug.

“Except that everytime I do I end up sprawled naked on your workbench.” You smirk at him, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft material of his tshirt.

“Occupational hazard.” He responds quickly. You both laugh as you cuddle into his chest. He cards his fingers through your hair, his lingering gaze studying your features. “You’re so beautiful, bunny.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush over yours.

His hand paws at your thigh, dragging your leg over his waist as he crushes you against him. You cup his face, deepening the kiss, his beard tickling your palm as you melt into him. Your legs lock around his waist as he rolls on top of you. His large, calloused hands wrap around your sides, pushing your hoodie up and over your head in one swift motion before his lips connect with yours again. You shivered slightly as the cold night air hit your naked body. He practically purrs at the sight of you, his lips hovering over your neck. Your fingers slid into his hair, a small squeal escaping your lips as he bit down hard on your sensitive skin. You bite your lip, letting out a soft hum as he pushes his hips into you, his already growing bulge noticeable through your thin shorts. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me today, could you rabbit?” He smirks against your skin. You practically drooled over the sight earlier. William had a box resting on each shoulder, his skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. He paused as he caught sight of you leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest as your eyes raked over him. He smirked, knowing that playful glint in your eye. He smiled as he noticed your cheeks reddening from your position laying below him. He hooks his fingers into the band of your shorts, placing featherlike kisses down your stomach as he eases them down your legs. You moan softly as you feel him nip at the skin of the inside of your thighs. Your back arches off the bed as he brushes his thumb over your sensitive clit, a broken moan leaving your lips. With how busy you had both been due to the move it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate. Your skin was already on fire from the small touch alone, William smirked as he watched your reaction closely. Your hands fisted in the blankets as he tossed your legs over his shoulders, his hot breath bouncing off your already soaked core. His arms slip around your hips, holding you firmly in place as he dove into hungrily lap at your folds. You moan out his name, already attempting to squirm away from his assault. He growls, dragging you closer to him. His fingers dig into your thighs with a bruising force, sure to leave marks behind. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue swirls around your clit through your lace panties. He ate you out like a man starved, your soft gasps and quiet moans echoing in the empty room. You whined, tugging on his hair. “What’s the matter bunny?” He pushes your panties out of the way with his fingers, his skin growing slick with your arousal.

“I need you.” You whined, looking down at him with pleading, teary eyes. William gives in immediately with a soft chuckle, never one to deny you what you wanted. He tugs down your panties, placing soft kisses to your legs as he removes your final article of clothing at an agonizingly slow pace. He slides an arm under your back, pulling you on top of him as he collapses into the mattress. Your hands landed on either side of his head as you lost your balance, you blushed as you realized you were sitting on his broad, strong chest. He brushes your hair behind your ear before both of his hands wrap around your thighs.

“Come sit, bunny.” He coos, your face burning at his casual command. William absolutely loved whenever you sat on his face. However, he was well aware he would have to warm you up to the idea whenever he suggested it. You were always worried you were too heavy, you hadn't shaved, or you hadn't showered, and your husband always reassured you that none of those things were going to pose any problems for him. His beard tickled the inside of your thighs as you hovered over his eager mouth. His hands squeezed at your hips, groaning as your soft skin squished between his fingers. You cry out as he pushes you down onto him, his tongue lapping at your clit before he shoves his way in between your folds.

“Oh, fuck! Will!” You moan, your hips moving on their own. You let out a soft sob everytime his nose bumps against your clit. He growls, pressing hard into your hips as you try to wiggle away, his assault on your already sensitive cunt threatening to push you over the edge mere minutes after he starts. “Baby, it's too much.” Your voice shook as you tried to plead with him, years slipping from your damp eyes onto your cheeks as the coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter. William’s eyes were hazy as they met yours, his face smothered in your thighs as he greedily sucked your clit into his mouth. You tug his hair, making you groan against him. “I'm gonna cum.” It was all too much for you to handle, your body losing its rhythm as your climax threatened to rip through you. William let out an affirmative hum below you, knowing you were close by the slowing of your movements. He decides it's time for him to take over, determined to make you cum on his tongue. His fingers dig into the curve of your ass as he gradually increases the pace of your hips. You yelped as one of his hands suddenly connects with your skin, the mixture of pleasure and slight pain causing your soaked cunt to throb. Broken moans and whines rumbled effortlessly from your mouth, the fine tuned roaming of his hands paired with his expert tongue knowing just how you wanted to be touched to fall apart in his hands. William never got tired of making you finish. The way you would fall absolutely silent and still for a moment, mouth hanging open as no sound dared escape, your body taking time to catch up to the immense pleasure you were feeling. Now was no different. William felt his cock twitch at the sight of your eyes rolling back in your head, that brief moment of absolute silence making his ears ring before you screamed his name. He forced your hips to keep moving, never allowing your pace to slow as he felt your thighs shaking against his cheeks. You practically collapsed as he finally pulled his mouth off of you, a firm hand on your lower back keeping you upright as you shakily moved yourself back onto his chest. William reaches up to caress your cheek, wiping away tears that streaked down your skin. Your eyes felt heavy, you struggled to keep them open and on your husband as you came down from your high.

“Do you want to lay down?” He asks in a soft tone. You nod, collapsing into the mattress with a happy sigh. You hear the soft shuffling of William getting undressed before he gets under the blankets with a groan. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved closer, his fingers ghosting over your waist before your pulled back against him. You can't help but giggle slightly as you feel his erection pressed firmly against your back.

“You want some help with that?” You press yourself into him, his breath catching in his throat at the contact as he tries to stifle a growl.

“You can't even keep your eyes open bunny.” He chuckles, you smile as you feel it rumble in his chest. You let out a dismissive sound, giving him a slight shrug. “How about we compromise?” You glance over your shoulder at him, curiously raising an eyebrow. Your eyes slide shut, letting out a soft hum as you feel his rough hands roaming over your skin. His fingers dip in between your thighs, gently coaxing them apart. You gasp as you feel his member prod at your entrance. “I could always fill you up before we go to bed.” He offers with a smirk, your face instantly flushing at the thought of cuddling up with your husband, trying not to squirm too much as he impaled you on his thick cock. You give him a nervous yet excited nod, the sight of you looking at him so sweetly as you chewed on your lip making it hard for him to not flip you over and pound you into the mattress. William assisted you holding your legs open, one massive paw wrapped around your thigh to allow him room to attempt to fit inside of you. You gripped tightly onto the sheets as he slowly began to push inside, the stretch from making it barely past his tip intense due to the lack of prep. “That's it sweetheart, just relax.” He purrs in your ear, pressing his lips to your shoulder. Another roll of his hips makes you whimper, feeling him slip slightly deeper into your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, ‘s too big, ‘s not going to fit.” Your words slut as you tried to focus enough to speak. His pace was agonizing, you could feel every inch of him and every thick vein sliding over your velvety walls. You let out a shuddering breath as he finally bottoms out in you, the tip of his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. You felt like you would break in half at the smallest wrong move, even your slight shifting as you cuddled up with William had the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

“Such a good bunny, taking all of me so well.” His lips trail over your neck, you feel him smirk as you clench around him, repeatedly kissing and teasing what he knew was a rather sensitive spot of skin.

Your fingers intertwined with his, his strong arms wrapped protectively around as you're held flush to his chest.

“I love you.” You say quietly, feeling sleep trying it's hardest to pull you under. He gives your hand a soft squeeze.

“And I love you, sweet girl.”

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Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!)

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 7 months

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The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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ssaaaronmontgomery · 8 months

Note

HIII i was scrolling through ig and i came across this video and i immediately thought of aaron when he's away from a case and then reader and their kids facetime him AAAAAAA IT'S SO CUTE I LOVE DAD!AARON SM🥰🥰💗💗 (also im new to the fandom and this is my first time requesting and i love your stories sm anyways have a nice day/evening ahead!) https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cv-QhCIAx7R/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Missing You

Warnings: Mentions of cases, a little sad stuff because he can't be home :(, much fluff and happy stuff 🥰, not proofread, let me know if I missed anything<3

Word count: 943

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

A/n: Hi darling! Thank you so much for coming to me with your first request 🥹🫶. I hope you like it 🥰. That video was so adorable by the way and Aaron would definitely do that 😭 I love our man 🥹.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @cr1minalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags 🫶

Whenever Aaron is away on a case you all miss him dearly just as he misses you. He does his best to keep in contact with you throughout his day and then before the kiddos go to bed he tries to make sure he can facetime you all before they go to sleep.

The little Hotchner bugs are always excited when they get to see their dad even if it's only over a video call. He still manages to make it fun for all of you even if he can't actually be there. It's always a nice way to end his day. It's more than just missing you all but he also needs to make sure his little family is okay. Especially if it's a case involving kids. He always calls more when children are involved.

"Daddy's calling! Answer it answer it!" Your little girl is yelling excitedly when Aaron's contact pops up and you immediately press the answer button. When his face shows on the screen you smile and wave at him before the little Hotchner bugs steal the device from you, not that you mind.

"Daddy! Look look! I made this for you for when you come back home!" Little girl Hotchner holds up a drawing she had made earlier that day. It's the four of you, or at least it's supposed to be. It's really just four colourful blobs. One is you, another is Aaron, and the other two are her and Jack.

"And I made this for you in school!" Jack shows Aaron his own art piece which is definitely easier to make out but both are equally loved by you and Aaron.

"Those are both beautiful! They should be in an art museum." Aaron smiles big and it warms your heart.

You all tell Aaron about how your day went and he listens with that same grin as his little bugs ramble on and on happily. Jack's sister tends to go off topic more often than not but Aaron doesn't mind. Neither of you do. He's just happy to hear their voices and see their faces.

"Daddy what happened! You look like a kitty!" Your little girl exclaims when the face of an animated cat covers Aaron's and moves when he turns his head or talks. You're giggling as he talks to them and pretends not to know what they're talking about. Then it turns to a dog and Jack laughs as your little girl gets a confused, but joyful expression on her face.

"Daddy, can you do a T-rex? Please?" Jack asked as he looks at the screen in front of you all.

"Oh no. What's that sound?" You can hear what you think is Aaron imitating a dinosaur and then the dog face goes away and is replaced by Jack's request.

"Rawr!" All three of you giggle when you see it and you hear Aaron's big laugh come through the speaker and your heart flutters at the sound. You miss him but you understand he can't be there as much as you all wish he could and that's why you always make as much time for things like this as you all can when he's away. It's important to all of you that you spend time together even if it's just a video call. It's still special to all of you.

Eventually you have to end the call because the little loves need to go to sleep, everyone is disappointed and they both bed for five more minutes. Of course you give in. They miss Aaron and you won't deny them that time with him as long as it's not insanely late and as long as he doesn't need to leave so he can work.

After the five minutes is up, Aaron tells them it's time for bed and they both frown but nod in understanding.

"I miss you all and I love you. I want you both to be good for your mother, okay? I should be home in a couple of days and then we can do whatever you want. How does that sound?" He smiles at the end and they both cheer up and nod eagerly.

After you all say goodbye and hang up you don't get them ready to go to sleep right away. Instead you all make a little video telling Aaron you love him and saying good night then send it to him. You know he feels a little down when you have to end the call and you want him to have something to bring his spirits up a little bit.

That's when you finally get the Hotchner babes ready and give them their nightly forehead kiss good night. You always give them both two kisses each when Aaron is away. One from you and one from him. Which they both return to you. One for you and one for their dad.

It's hard to be away from Aaron but you know it's even harder for him. When he's away you still have the little ones. It always makes you sad so you're constantly sending him photos and videos of you and your sweethearts so he still has some of the feeling of being home. It helps him get through those rough cases and he saves every single memory you send him.

When he finally gets home he's been so kept up with everything from the calls and messages that it almost feels like he wasn't even away. You make sure to keep him well informed on all three of you so he doesn't feel like he's missing out as much and he's incredibly grateful to you for it.

#anon🩶#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner blurb #hotch blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #hotch drabble #dad!hotch #mon answers🩷#hotch🌜

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sugar-omi · 3 months

Note

I came here to ask for Rockstar! Cove rambles and saw the Rockstar! Baxter art you reblogged omfg it's so good.

Please can we get some of your Rockstar! Cove (and/or Baxter if you feel like it) rambles 🙏

(Hope your holiday has been great 💖)

this is more. rockstar!cove backstory but YKW ITS FINE BC ITS BEEN WHATS ON MY MIND LATELY we'll have to talk abt him again bc this post was getting LONG especially w baxterrr

tags : SFW, headcanons, step 2-4, rockstar au, so ooc, bullying mentioned, fighting, baxter's tags are below before his hc's

listen....

im ngl. i want him to be maybe a little toxic. a lil crazy.

or into things he's not canonically into/does often

at least he's rough n impulsive at first

whenever he can get away with it, and before he got famous, he loves taking a long ride on his motorcycle

compared to when he was a young teen, he tries not to take drives when he's angry

bc when he was young, he'd put on some music and blast it as loud as it could go, and he'd drive and drive and drive...

ended up with a few warnings and speeding tickets that way because he'd get lost in riding n his thoughts n the music

but now that his life isn't so turbulent, he doesn't do that anymore

i wanna imagine he doesn't grow up with you next door n you didn't know each other until junior year of high school

he sees you n he's sold...

thinks you're so fucking beautiful/handsome and he sees you laughing n smiling w your friends n he's so, so whipped for you

he's still a sweet shy boy, so it takes forever for him to talk to you

n it's terry who introduced you two!!!

he's all flustered, bc you're even more lovely up close

n if you're all bubbly n extroverted, he thinks you're like sunshine

if you're more reserved, he thinks you're very cool or that it's amazing how calm you are all the time

if you're shy/easily flustered, will sometimes (and now that he's grown, always) mention out loud he thinks it's cute when you blush...

either way, just loves your personality n thinks you're amazing n cute

you actually calm him down. you ground him.

he used to get into fights kinda often.

i like to think rockstar!cove got like this bc his parents stayed together longer than they did, n there was no brilliant neighbor to reach out to him

he n his dad were still like oil n water, and the kids at school were less than friendly but usually didn't dare fuck with him

key word is usually.

just had a thought actually... cliff's family living nearby

not his parents. he moved as far as he could

and with him n Kyra on the brink of divorce, her moving out the house, n all cliff has to do to keep them afloat..

he didn't think his equally shitty cousins would be a problem.

but surprise!! they're a few doors down n too happy to "catch up"

cove n cliff avoid them pretty well, n cliff really didn't need to tell cove to avoid his cousins bc he was already 2 steps ahead of him

but his cousins dont get that message, they also think its a good idea to pick on cove...

so between the short patience of most hormonal 13 year olds, his parents (finally) separating, cove's intolerance for bullshit....

cove ends up rocking his 2 cousins shit when they snatch his glasses off his face, bending the frame

ignores his cousins mom yelling at him n cliff to apologize for hurting her kids. feels a bit warm when his dad tells her his son is more well mannered than both her kiss combined, even laughs when he says a rabid raccon has more sense n poise

but is even happier when his dad, after a moment of silence in the car, asks him if be used the right hook he taught him

n tries to hide his smile when his dad ruffles his hair n goes "that's good. good job son."

he does hear the whole, "violence isn't always the answer" and "pick your battles" thing

but he shrugs off the lecture when he and cliff have a tub of ice cream each n cliff holds a bag of peas to his face

anyway.

he fights like a DOG. he arGRHHH HE HAS EVERYTHIGN TAKEN CARE OF. TRUST.

professional at sneaking out n sneaking YOU out

cove at 4am: wanna get mcd's?

dont even bother saying no bc he's already outside

dont pretend to be sleep either bc he FUCKING SEES YOU.

will leave you alone if you genuinely don't wanna fuck around in the middle of the night, but how can you say no to him?

ah. before i forget

Will kiss you if you're bandaging his face

asks you to ice his bruises...

SINGS YOU SONGS N SHIT

kryptonite. creep. p!nk and lady gaga PERIOD. all of it

serenades you with his guitar and/or voice

sometimes he's just fiddling with the strings, switching between cheery beats and trying to rick roll you but the beat is wayyy off

loves when you fall asleep to his music too, plays the sleepiest tune he can think of

you being his biggest supporter is what makes him fight to make a name in the music industry

after supporting him in his personal life, through all his lows and highs, then supporting his music that he was too scared to go for

he puts his best foot forward for his sake and yours

+ TAGS: mention of FWB, toxic baxter <3, so ooc ofc, mm implied partying/drinking

now rockstar baxter....

i want him to be a problem. he's the toxic one here

compared to cove, who is soft n sweet but impulsive and always willing to fight, rough but well meaning...

baxter is your situationship

your friends with benefits

friends if a loose word, since you hardly ever talk since you've met and unless arguing, bickering, or sexting counts as getting to know each other...

than you're best friends!!!

he's the big headed musician who always asks "wyd" and "u up?" whenever he's in town

at least he sends you money to doll up or eat, or whatever before he gets in town

"make sure you eat before i come. bc im not letting you go once i get there"

so.... if you want commitment. he's not it...

just saw *this tweet, and rockstar!baxter IS the type to email you after you block him

omfg. if any of yall have read armin x reader fanfics... yk how he is in those fics? all toxic n shit?

thats baxter.

not THAT bad. like baby trapping bad or cheating on you, manipulating you etc.

but he's bad

definitely the dumb choice you make at 18-20 smth years old n once you mature, you drop him because he doesn't grow up quickly...

he won't even have the realization that you're the one until he's MINIMUM 37-40+ YEARS OLD. AND FLYS UP FROM THE BED LIKE HE'S SEEN A GHOST

curses n curses himself to high hell and low heaven

now depending on how bad he's fucked you over, or you've moved on, etc... he understands if you don't wanna try being together, bc he was a fucking mess

at least, if he sees you catching feelings or himself, he does break it off

but there's still good times between you!!

he sends you things for your birthday

and when he's not on tour showing his ass, he comes to spend it with you

is very happy if you come to spend his birthday with him!!!

starts to look forward to it, but he doesn't really show it

although after the first time, he can't help crying, thought the first time was just a one off thing

unless you make the first one a big thing, than he cries then

even if all you did was get/make a cake and decorate your small apartment, he's so so happy

mm i started thinking abt smth

i don't think he's that bad, impulsive, etc. before his career

before, he's pursuing music because his parents hate it. its "not a useful career" and "embarrassing"

but then he starts to love it, its an outlet for him and then it's become a passion

but once he gets a deal with a record label, it's just a downward spiral

puts everything into music, ignores everything else and doesn't take breaks like he should

i think what breaks your "relationship" is him getting caught up in the darker side of the music industry, and losing himself.

he doesn't laugh or anything like before

doesn't make random trips to see you anymore

in fact, probably ends up flaking on you or suddenly canceling, or going weeks without talking to you

its rough. and you two definitely need time apart for him to grow and realize that this is serving anyone besides the companies pockets well

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #baxter ward #baxter our life #baxter ward x reader

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writingseaslugs · 2 years

Text

Hello everyone, and welcome to the Lounge! I'm the owner, and you can call me either Salt or Slug, whichever suits your fancy (They/He). This is a side blog for all my fandom writing. I'm currently whipping up drinks for Twisted Wonderland and Obey Me, but Genshin Impact might soon join the menu as well.

This is your directory for all the locations of my Lounge, so please continue on if you'd like to sip on some of the cocktails. Please keep in mind that this is an 18+ bar, so if you're under the age of 18, please leave and return once you're the proper age to sit at our bar.

Request Information | AU Information | Tips on Writing Headcanons | How To Start Your Own Request Blog | Mini Smut Writing Tutorial

Here's our bar, where we have themed menus. We do have some virgin drinks, that are always marked with SFW, and then our hard liquor that's marked with NSFW. If you'd like to make a custom order, please look over our bar rules before making your order!

Bar Rules | !!!Read Before Ordering!!!

Twisted Wonderland's Menu

Obey Me's Menu

These are our tables that you can sit at. We have a few different areas, and if you'd like to meet some of our regular's, then look no further.

These are the VIP's, the ones whom I talk to or have interactions with often, and have a special place at the bar. @twistedchatterbox @queeniesrose @angrylilcyclops @the-mermaid-of-the-stars @hoboyherewego @v-anrouge @twstfournights @wysteriadelights

Here's a few regulars that often come up to the bar and chat, or even order (If you'd like to have a custom anon name, please ask in the inbox so I can add it to the list. No Emoji's Please):

Floyd's-Dick-In-A-Box Anon

Long Island Iced Tea Anon

At this bar we are kind to one another, and treat everyone with respect. Please be kind to one another while you're here, and not judge. There might sometimes be triggering topics brought up in conversation or writing, but there will always be a warning to let you know before you click it.

This is an 18+ bar and we have several harder drinks here. Again, there will always be a warning as to what the story is so you can decide if you'd like to order the drink. If it's not to your taste, don't drink it. Don't complain just because you disliked it, please. Everyone likes different drinks.

We also don't tolerate people remaking my drinks and serving it at other blogs. Again do not repost or copy my content onto other platforms. I have an AO3 that I sometimes post on, "BleepSheeps".

If there's anything you don't want to see, we have custom tags here that you can block. The tags are as follows:

- Slug Speaks 💛: This is the hashtag that is used when I'm rambling or responding to questions that aren't related to writing.

- Slug is Sinning: All NSFW content as of 2023 will have this hashtag, so if you wish to only see SFW content, please go ahead and block this tag.

- Feral Slug Hours: This is the tag I use when I'm going hog wild. This typically includes me posting multiple posts in a row that doesn't have anything to do with writing, when I'm joking around, or when I'm answering funny asks.

- Yandere Slug: This is for all content that includes yandere characters. If you dislike yandere content, block this tag and you won't need to worry about it popping up on your feed.

- Slug Reblogs Stuff: This is the tag I'll be using for all my reblogs.

- Slug Polls: This is for whenever I'm doing a poll and need input on what's going to be written and posted next on the blog!

- Slug Announcements: Whenever I make announcements about things going on in the blog, this will be used from now on. If you want to be kept up to date on what's going on and future plans, don't block this tag. If you really don't care about what's going on, then by all means, block it.

If you only want to see written content on my blog, then simply block all the hashtags above. If you want to see everything I have to offer, then don't. It's up to you to customize what you see.

If you're thinking about starting your own bar, then I have a few helpful tips and tutorials on how you can get started!

Starting a Request Blog

Tips on Writing Headcanons

Mini Smut Writing Tutorial

#masterlist

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sandradoodles · 2 years

Photo

Part nine! It’s that good marichat time again.

First | Prev | Next

(Keep reading for notes)

The timeline is established, things are getting serious now! Here’s some in-between stuff I don’t have time to draw and assorted other ramblings:

After the finale, Adrien and Ladybug teamed up to try to chase down the Felix lead and somehow hit a dead end very quickly because I suck at writing antagonists and I respect Felix too much to involve him in my lovesquare nonsense. Just imagine that for the purposes of this comic they learned he’s like... hiding out in the Amazon rainforest or something. Gabriel will be around eventually though, because I do not respect him I am going to use him for plot purposes and because he’s part of Adrien’s story.

(Speaking of whom, I’m not going to be leaning in to the sentimonster Adrien theory. It hurts me and I have already allocated this story’s angst quota for other things.)

Ladybug is still dealing with the immense blow of losing all the miraculous, but Chat Noir has been her ROCK, her LIGHT, her SAFE PLACE, and her feelings for him just keep getting softer and softer (oh no this is dangerous. Ladybug used DEFLECT AND DENY! It’s not very effective...)

But she has been making an effort to be both more open with him and more sensitive towards his feelings. To that end, she gave him the cliff notes version of Chat Blanc and, based on what she remembers about the Ephemeral episode, shared her suspicions about identity shenanigans leading to disaster a second time.

Also this isn’t as important to the plot but I had them recover the dog Miraculous first because it’s hilarious to me to imagine Gabe being like “THIS MUST SECRETLY BE THE MOST POWERFUL MIRACULOUS” since Felix had it for like an hour and broke the world, only for Dogmoth to lose it immediately because compared to his nephew he is severely lacking in imagination and it turns out that ~imagination was the real superpower all along~

Final note because I am ~self-conscious~, I would like to reiterate that I wrote this story in one day after extremely limited interaction with the fandom (like less than a week of digging through a couple tags) and I am beginning to suspect that some of my “very clever ideas” are more likely well-established tropes at this point?? (That’s what happens when you get to a fandom five years late I guess.) I’ve already warned that this is an extremely self-indulgent comic so I’m just going to forge ahead with what I have planned and hope the journey is still fun for others too even if some of the themes aren’t wildly original fff.

If you read all this then you are a trooper, take a figurative gold star!

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #chat noir #marichat #lovesquare #confessions comic #once again I would like to lodge a complaint against Marinette's extremely complicated room #how am I supposed to establish character positioning if I'm also supposed to draw giant beams in front of them #as you can see I simply elected NOT to draw them #her room is cute tho I'm just whining #ngl I'm extremely happy with how the first page turned out #we've come a long way since part one visually speaking #s4 spoilers #sandra draws

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anarchywoofwoof · 5 months

Text

Hello, Thank You For Being Here (Pt. 2)

backup: bluesky

in just a few short weeks, it will be a new year, so why not a new pinned post. old pinned post can be found here.

for those of you who have never visited my blog and for those who have been following me over the last few months, welcome to the jungle, baby.

my name is biddy. that is a nickname that i earned by being known for accidentally pushing the wrong button at a previous job... many... many times. my pronouns are literally whatever i do not care. by default, i go by he/him/his but feel free to use whatever floats your canoe.

here's the rest of the basics:

Name: Biddy [nickname]

Pronouns: Any [default: he/him]

Age: 33

Relationship Status: Taken [@thatcrazywitch]

Political Affiliation: Anarchocommunist

Occupation: Technology

Hobbies: Writing, Poetry, Graphic Design, Digital Archival, Movies & Television, Video Games, Photography, and many more.

Neurodiversity & Health: ADHD, Autism, Anxiety, Contamination OCD, Depression, Dyspraxia, Chronic Fatigue & possibly EDS (undiagnosed, suspected)

if you fall into one of the following categories, do not interact with my blog or expect a fair amount of hostility, as well as a report + block:

MAGA/Conservative/Libertarian/Republican

Homophobe/Transphobe/TERF

Racist/Bigot

Zionist

Science Denier (Anti-Vax, Climate Skeptic, Flat Earther, etc.)

Intolerant Religious Zealot (Hardline Christian, Hardline Muslims, Hardline any religion, etc.)

here are some things that you can expect to find on my blog. tagging is an ongoing work in progress, but you will consistently find the following posts in my archive:

My thoughts and various ramblings: #text, #bork bork thoughts Ask Responses: #borking back Tumblr/Blog related: #meta My dog: #sweet princess peregrine Other dogs: #anarchodogism Cats: #cats on the bork blog Movies/Television: #borking at the movies, #movies Anti-Capitalist sentiment: #fuck capitalism, #anticapitalist, #anticapitalism Anarchoposting: #anarchy, #anarchism, #anarchist OC Graphics: #oc, #learning photoshop through play OC Poetry: #oc, #poetry, #poetry on main Non-OC Memes: #memes, #not oc Wholesome Posts: #happy borks if i fail to tag something appropriately or reblog from someone detestable, please message me or send me an anonymous ask and let me know. do not reblog my posts with passive aggressive tags or comments. you will be publicly addressed as a nincompoop and then blocked. this is the only warning i will give.

my sense of humor is also very deadpan/sarcastic, so please forgive me ahead of time if i make you feel unwelcome. feel free to reach out and chat or send asks if you feel inspired to do so. i love every one of you, and thank you for visiting.

biddy

#pinned intro

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codecicle · 8 months

Text

WHATS POPPING‼️ I'm Ashton B Codecicle Gayboy Swagaythor and I use he/him they/them and it/its with no preference in between all of them. Dudebro Manguy who will be weird and freakish on your dashboard faggot-style :D👍

matching pfps with my boyfriend's @felixisfruity and my friend @originallymax ^_^

‼️ cc!wilbur and cc!dream stans fuck off. if i talk about them im always talking about their characters (my ocs) ‼️

HELLO!! gaze apon ye affront to god and despair. if me or any of my posts have made you deeply sigh with shame and regret then i may be entitled to financial compensation! cashapp me 20 bucks rn

also! am a minor ^_^ so i wont be drawing the labia ghoul as i am 14 years of age smiley face (<- inside joke)

I LOVE TALKING TO MUTUALS AND FRIENDS AND BUDDIES AND HOMIES. COME TALK TO ME I HAVE A DISCORD SERVER YOU SHOULD DM ME FOR THE LINK OOOOOOOO YOU WANNA JOIN CLUB CREPUSCULE SO BADDDDDDDDDDD OOOOOOOO

number ONE codeflippa and qcharlie enthusiast. if anyone tells u otherwise run very very fast in the other direction and dont look back its me boy im the ps5 speaking to you inside ur brain listen to me boy

mcyt is my special intrest im never leaving this place until the day i die. qsmp dsmp osmp scu smplive cogchamp sdmp epicsmp.. my servers.... <3 i also watch chuckle sandwich and jrwi + most mcyt adjacent people

I do not make sideblogs and never plan on it! outside of!! url hoarding and my singular jrwi gimmick blog/son @has-chip-beaten-the-allegaytions I'm a Chip "Bastard" James JRWI enthusiast btw ^_^)

albatrio are transexuals and faggots and in queer platonic t3t love i dont care about jrwitwt they can explode. sad! 💥💥💥💥

also also im a grimeduo guy. a big one. being both a slimer and an inniter at the same time is like a full time job of being transgender but i somehow manage. who up beastin

if you ever want to listen to my scu propaganda and start watching it i ramble about it a little bit in this ask

i am learning french btw!! charlie and baghera mental illness strikes again (chose the class before the qsmp started and has now managed to make practicing a language into something about my special interests to make me more intrested in it) ((YOU WANNA SEND ME ASKS IN FRENCH. YOU WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO ME IN FRENCH. YOU NEED TO GIVE ME FRENCH PRACTICE. ITS MEEEE BOY IM THE FUCKING PS5 FREE WILL IS AN ILLUSION))

collection of people being normal about me.

(my chip hater blinkies and normal about father-child dynamics shirt were both made by felix!! <3 this egg is transgender image was made by @/foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland </3 and the juanaflippa divider can be used with credit to the artist!! it was made by @/etoilesbienne)

tag list ahead! if you ever need me to tag something just send me an ask or dm and let me know i will ALWAYS say yes i want people to be safe. that being said i do talk about triggering topics from time to time and my intrests are often gore/body horror filled like genloss or bitb so keep that in mind!! i will still tag them properly but i am a walking trigger warning PLEASE stay safe :DD

original posts -> i make yet anothet post just for me 👍

important things ive gottta find multiple times -> saving for later

i am arguably a pink core (the typa shit ballincat43 is on) person and you can pry that from my cold dead hands so here is the tag for it LMAO -> me core

qsmp -> qsmp

qsmp fanart -> qsmp art

absurdly powerful dnd podcast posting -> jrwi (i also tag the individual characters)

liveblogging newer jrwi episodes or jrwiepisodes with spoilers -> jrwilb

gayass military game posting -> cod

generation loss -> genloss

jerma -> jerma is a fucking cryptid

liveblogging -> liveblogging

ask tag -> we have mail :]

best asks I've ever received -> askbox hall of fame

slimecicle cinematic universe -> scu

autism² (risk of rain) -> ror2

self rb -> reblogging my own post

the mcu / mutual cinematic universe -> little rp thing I do with my friends ^_^

tag for elliot (my boyfriend) -> my love felix <3 <3

pokemon (autism³) -> poketag

#i make yet anothet post just for me 👍#flashing images #image id in alt text #^_^

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hannyoontify · 10 months

Text

lessen your burden - choi seungcheol

member | seungcheol x gn!reader

genre | angst, js hurt no comfort, breakup!au (i apologize in advance)

word count | 1.2k

synopsis | seungcheol loved you more than anything, but when he learns that you no longer feel the same way, he's still a little reluctant to let you go.

warnings | cursing, seungcheol is extremely emotionally codependent/unstable, reader is a bit of a dick (i think), arguing, reader loses their shit

notes | to be completely honest, i can't tell who's the "bad guy" here bc this is loosely based on true events from yours truly 💀 tag yourself i'm [name]

''i'm sorry. i'm sorry that i'm such a shitty boyfriend and i'm sorry that i keep having these bad thoughts about us and-'

'seungcheol, what are you saying right now?' you asked, a hint of sleep still laced in your voice. it's only been 3 minutes since you woke up and your boyfriend was sitting in bed next to you with tears in his eyes as he apologized profusely for absolutely nothing. you wondered if this was his fourth or fifth time crying to you this week.

'i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. i don't know what else to say, i feel like i should be apologizing right now, but i don't know. i'm sorry. i'm stressed and today just isn't a good day' he rambled on, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

'seungcheol, what the fuck are you talking about? it's only been 5 minutes since we woke up, what do you mean it's not a good day' you said. you would be lying if you said that you weren't slightly agitated by this whole situation because this wasn't what you wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

you noticed seungcheol flinch at your choice of words and you ran a hand against your tired face. 'sorry, i didn't mean to curse'

to say that you and seungcheol's relationship had been tense recently would be an understatement. with your upcoming performance test and potential promotion at work, you were stressed and under a lot of pressure to do well. seungcheol was also job hunting after he was let go from his previous company that was financially struggling. every day, he sat at his computer as he sent out resume after resume and only left your apartment to drink with his friends or for interviews which never ended well.

the two of you had been getting into more arguments as well. it first started out small; bickering when you found a miscellaneous sock on the floor when you got home that soon transitioned to screaming matches every other night. but now, you were both too tired for that as well. you knew, eventually, that you two would break up. it was inevitable.

it wasn't that seungcheol was a bad person or a bad partner, you were simply incompatible with him. that, and you also fell out of love with him at some point and grew tired of your relationship with him. it seemed like all you ever did was give, but you received almost nothing.

'can you please hold me?' seungcheol asked in a quiet voice. a small, exasperated sigh left your lips before you could register what you were doing. once you did, you tried to cover it up by rustling the duvet loudly and motioned for your upset boyfriend to come closer to you.

but seungcheol noticed. he always did. he noticed the way you slightly rolled your eyes whenever he came up to you on the verge of tears. he noticed that every night, you seemed to inch further and further away from him until you were on the edge of the bed, threatening to fall off the mattress. he always tried to brush it off, making up lame excuses for your distant behavior, but now, it was getting harder for him to think of excuses.

pressing his head against your chest, seungcheol listened to your soft heartbeat as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair.

'cheol, we should break up' you quietly said. seungcheol pulled away from your embrace and looked straight ahead. he couldn't look at you. he wouldn't.

'why?' oh he knew why. seungcheol knew why but he still wanted to hear it coming from your mouth–

'i don't love you anymore'

–he takes it back. he takes it all back. he never wants to hear those words coming out of your mouth ever again, it felt like a punch to his gut. seungcheol suddenly couldn't breathe.

'[name], you don't- you don't mean that. please. i need you to comfort me right now, tell me that everything is going to be okay. you can't leave me, not when i'm at my lowest point like this'

you silently slid out of your bed and put on your bathrobe, facing your back towards him. 'i'm sorry, seungcheol. i don't know if i can do this anymore. i'm tired. doesn't my lack of effort make you feel unloved? like you deserve better?'

your boyfriend–almost ex–shook his head profusely. 'no, you're perfect for me. please don't leave me [name]'

'begging isn't gonna get you anywhere, choi seungcheol'

hearing his full name coming from your lips made seungcheol's blood run cold. you only called him by his full name when you were on the verge of lashing out at him and against his better judgement, he apologized again. 'i'm sorry, [name]. if you tell me what i did wrong, i'll fix it and-'

you whipped around. for the first time that day, seungcheol saw your eyes though now he wishes he never had. your usual shining eyes were void of any love and joy that used to be there. instead, they were dark and stormy. full of anger and scorn.

'when is the last time you've comforted me, seungcheol? you go on and on about how you need me and you need to be comforted by me. think about it. when's the last time, you've held me in your arms and told me those 5 words that you want to hear all the time?' once the floodgates had opened, there was no turning back.

seungcheol sat there, stunned as you continued to berate him. what you were saying wasn't wrong. he had been so focused on trying to make himself feel better, he never bothered asking you what was on your mind. he wondered how often your words 'it's going to be okay' were actually meant for you instead of him.

'when i wasn't chosen for the promotion last month, where were you? you were out, drinking with your friends until 2 in the fucking morning'

'i don't understand why you're so obsessed with the promotion, you're still young and you have plenty of time-'

'I DID IT FOR YOU, SEUNGCHEOL. I DID IT FOR US' in the end, you had exploded. 'EVERYONE'S ON MY ASS 24/7 ASKING ME WHEN I'M GONNA GET MARRIED. HOW CAN I GET MARRIED WHEN MY BOYFRIEND IS UNEMPLOYED AND MY PAYCHECK CAN BARELY SUPPORT US BOTH?!'

you took a deep breath, not realizing until now that you were crying. there were tears streaming down your cheeks, similar to seungcheol. taking a moment to collect yourself, you rubbed at your eyes, trying to stop your flowing tears.

'everyday, i get yelled at and scolded by my seniors. i'm currently doing the workload of two people, do you remember me telling you that?'

seungcheol felt a pang of guilt in his chest. he did remember and watching you breakdown like this left him in horror–

'and then i come home, to my apartment that i pay for. and the dishes are still in the sink. the laundry isn't folded. did you expect me to do all the housework as well?'

–was he really this much of a burden to you?–

'i'm tired of this, seungcheol. please. i'm tired of giving and not receiving anything in return' although you stopped crying, your eyes were glistening with tears as you looked at him desperately.

–if that's what you really wanted, he would give it to you–

'i'll be out of here by the end of this week'

–because he still loved you.

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rayofdawnworld · 25 days

Text

Too Late part 2

Well, here is part two of my very first Reader Inert fic. Tell me how I'm doing, please. Thanks again to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor making this wonderful mood board that inspired me to do this.

Minors DON NOT INTERACT. I MEAN IT! If you're under 18 come back when you are.

Tags will be added as needed.

I will tag you if you want.

Tagging you based on your likes: @silelda, @thezombieprostitute,@thedragonlab, @leonaax, @chocolatecherryblossomsweets

This is a Dark fic. How dark I don't know, it all depends.

Obsessive!Sherlock Holmes/Smart!Reader

Warnings, none yet.

Part 1 Part 3

You were walking home after a long day of work. It was getting late, and you still had a day's work ahead of you tomorrow. At least it wasn't raining. Some of the students thought it would be funny to spill pigs' innards all over the medical classrooms as a prank. Of course, to the casual observer, it all looked the same, but despite the similarities, there were slight differences that a more knowledgeable or careful observer would catch. You were only slightly embarrassed to admit that it had taken you a bit longer to realise that the organs spilled all over the floors were not, in fact, human. The only thing giving you some comfort was that the professors, those highly intelligent and superior minds, took longer than you.

Sadly, since you were one of three maids who had not fainted at the macabre sight, you and the other ladies were tasked with cleaning everything up. You smelled like clotted blood and spoiled meat. You were wet, you were starving, your back hurt, you were past feeling your feet, your knees were bruising, and your hands were beginning to cramp.

That didn't stop you from realising that someone was following you.

Of all the things I need, whatever this is right now is not it. Taking advantage of the chill, you rubbed your hands roughly and started to work out their kinks harshly, going as far as to bite some of your fingers discreetly while also constraining your breath and steps.

There was no need to warn whoever was following you that you had caught on to their presence.

Having barely managed to gain some fluidity in your hands, you put them in your apron pockets, thanking God that you had opted not to take them off, as was your habit.

You counted your steps to ten as you breathed deeply every two steps. You grabbed the small pistol you found in your mother's jewellery bag.

You reached ten and spun swiftly. Years of training with your mother and dancing, the one thing your aunt let you take with Anna to keep up appearances, kept you from getting dizzy.

There was no one there. Or at least, it seemed that way. You smiled.

"I know you are out theeere" you sang in a taunt. "I felt you following me," you growled. "And I do know how to shoot." And with that final warning breathed into the night, you took off on a run. After all, you had always been a fast runner.

You reached your shabby rooms, just barely missing the curfew. Luckily, Mrs. Acker took one look at you and ushered you in. You thanked her profusely as she helped you take off your clothes. Even your underthings were impregnated with the smell of blood, sweat, and the beginnings of rot. You would have to pay for the bath come next payday. You scrubbed yourself, feeling a bit better despite your tiredness. Looking at the clock, you moaned petulantly. You would only have a few hours of sleep before having to get up early to help old Mr. Beckwourth in the market stall selling fish.

It wasn't by chance that you chose these jobs. Both took time, had a modestly adequate pay, rendered you invisible, and lent you a godawful smell, ensuring that none came near you. Just two more weeks. That's all. Two more weeks. You rambled in your mind as you got out of the old metallic tub and dried yourself as best you could.

As you got ready for bed, you mourned the loss of intelligent conversation. You would do just about anything to have an engaging exchange. You'd give anything for a good game of chess. Two more weeks. You felt as if these last weeks were going to be the hardest yet.

You seemed to have forgotten the age-old adage, Be careful about what you wish for.

You didn't know you had been found. You didn't know that your pursuer had just managed to hide himself before you turned around, surprised by how easily you had found him out. You didn't know what your words did to his pride or how knowing that you could use a weapon made him reconsider his approach. Your father had never said anything about knowing how to handle weaponry. What else did you know? You spun with grace—yes, the grace of a dancer—but there was a precise strength as well. Your stance was that of a fighter. Did you know how to fight Pussycat? Oh yes, he remembered your mother's preferred pet name for you. Pussycat. It had potential. You didn't know that as you sprinted with considerable speed despite being held down by damp wool, a pair of vibrant blue eyes darkened with an unknown feeling as he reshaped his entire opinion about you for a second time.

As you lay in bed in a fitful sleep, you didn't know that somewhere else, a man, a most brilliant man, lay in his bed wondering what you truly looked like. Years prior, the paint you wore on your face concealed your appearance; now grime and exhaustion do the same. He had heard about your grandmother's beauty and how you resembled her, but somehow he wagered that you had suppressed her beauty tenfold.

You didn't know what your defiance had done to your pursuer. A man with vibrant blue eyes who no longer considered you a quarry but instead now saw you as a worthy opponent.

A dangerous thing to be, his opponent.

It was a well-known fact that Sherlock Holmes was a formidable man, infamous for dragging all those who opposed him down to his feet. These next few days were going to be very entertaining. He smiled deviously as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Whether you ended up on your knees at his feet or standing by his side depended entirely on just how smart you truly were. Not that it mattered either way.

Sherlock Holmes always got what he wanted.

And Sherlock Holmes wanted you.

#dark!sherlock holmes #obsessed!sherlock #x reader #dark!fic #Smart!reader #reader insert

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callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Seeing Red | Ch. 39: Labels ✍️

Word count: 3k

Warning: SERESIN FAMILY FLUFF, some tension 😏, bit of angst, let's cry again, Redman needs to unleash some tension, and they dO, SMUT AHEAD. Jake being a tease, Red being needy, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, and well, enJOY IT.

A/N: CAN SOMEONE SEND ME AN ASK TALKING ABOUT THE VOWS SO I CAN RAMBLE ABOUT IT? THANK YOU.

Also, can you comment if you got tagged on this part? Bc I think I'm having some trouble with the tags :(((

Masterlist on pinned

The planning behind this trip must have been absolutely crazy. When you get to the airport, there’s a person waiting for you to get you to your hotel. Jake was talking about renting a car once you landed, but it seems like you have a free ride to the hotel.

“Bubs, you need to sit down.” Jake chuckles, knowing how his words are falling on deaf ears.

“Look! The sea is orange.” Liam chimes, jumping up and down on his father’s legs.

“Guess we won’t be able to go to the beach today.” You mention, looking at the orange ocean and the setting sun on the horizon. The view is breathtaking.

“We’ll get dinner and head to the room. It's been a long day for this little prince.” Jake replies, kissing Liam’s head. “Maybe we can plan the places we want to see tomorrow.”

“We need to find that submarine tour so Liam can see the turtles.”

“Tutles! Can we see them now?” Liam turns around, grabbing his dad’s face. You’re starting to believe that he does this knowing that Jake is unable to say no to anything he asks when he grabs his face with his little hands and looks into his eyes.

“They’re getting ready to sleep now, bubs. We can see them tomorrow, okay?”

You lean back, watching the exchange between them. It’s been a few days since he told you the truth, and even though a part of your brain tries to keep those thoughts away to protect your poor heart from the suffering, another part of your brain can't stop thinking about a tiny kid, somehow looking very similar to Liam, wandering in a gigantic mansion. Dark and infinite walls rise in front of him at every step he makes, blocking his way out. The kid eventually sits down, tears welling up his eyes but not falling. They never fall.

He can’t break down.

“Cherry, are you listening?”

You shake your head, focusing on him. “Sorry, did you say something?”

Jake chuckles, kissing your forehead. “I said that we’re here. Let’s get to the room and freshen up a bit before going to get some dinner.”

You nod, grabbing your bag before getting out of the car.

Turns out your friends really got the three of you a suite. The two-bedroom suite is on the 33rd floor of one of the tallest hotels on the island. The main room has floor-to-ceiling windows and the most beautiful ocean views you could find. The other room, more appropriate for a two-year-old, doesn’t have such views, but Liam’s priorities are going to the beach and finding the turtles.

After a wonderful dinner at the restaurant, you come back to the room with Liam already asleep in your arms. The walk to the elevator is quiet, as if you two were afraid that the kid could wake up. However, deep in your soul, you know that both of you are thinking the exact same thing.

He’s thinking how that beach dress you chose fits you perfectly, adjusting itself in all the right places, making his mouth go dry.

You’re thinking how that white shirt he chose highlights his tanned skin, with two buttons down showing you enough of his chest to make you drool, and the platinum ring in his dog tags, shining every time you glance his way, isn’t making it any easier.

“There was a bottle of wine in the room, did you see it?” He mutters once you enter the elevator, pressing the button that takes you to your floor.

“No, I didn’t. I was more worried about taking dangerous things out of Liam’s room, actually.” You whisper back, adjusting Liam’s shirt, that keeps rolling up. “You want to open it?”

“Well, it would be a shame not to.” He shrugs, not wanting to push the idea any further in case you don’t feel like it.

“You find the glasses, I put him to bed.” You make your offer while not looking at him. Why are you shy all of a sudden? It’s not like you’ve never had sex with him before. You’re holding the proof of it in your arms right now.

“Deal.”

Liam wakes up when you are trying to take off his shoes, and you have to spend the next fifteen minutes singing to him until he slips into Morpheus’ arms. You love your son with every cell of your body. But he had to wake up the only night you didn’t want him to.

You get up from the bed, heels in hand, and tiptoe all the way out of his room, closing the door behind you. You let out a breath once you’re outside. As you walk around the suite trying to find Jake, you see him sitting on one of the sunbeds with two glasses of wine resting in front of him.

Leaving the shoes outside, you ran your fingers through his hair while getting yourself a glass. “Sorry, Liam was so excited about the turtles he didn’t want to sleep.”

“If he doesn’t get to see a turtle before we leave, I’ll riot.” He says this while sitting up and looking up, his green eyes locked with yours. “White suits you, my love.”

You smile, feeling the heat on your cheeks. “You’re also wearing white.”

“Just trying to match.”

“You should be wearing a dress for that.”

“I didn’t bring it with me, sorry.” He laughs, his hands moving to your hips, bringing you closer. The number of times that this same position has ended with you two in bed is countless. The look in his eyes, however, tells you that he is thinking about something. Something really important.

“What’s going on around that pretty head of yours?”

“I need to know where we are.” He whispers, his hands moving up to your waist.

“I assume you don’t mean what island we are on right now.” You joke, swallowing the lump of feelings. You knew this moment would come.

“You know I don’t mean that.”

You sigh, placing your hand on his shoulder as support while you sit down on his lap. His hands circle your body, finding their place on the small of your back. “We’re together, if that’s what you want to know.”

“I know that. But… is that it? Are we just together?” He insists.

“You want us to marry again, right?”

He nods, his hand traveling up your body and resting on your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “It’s the only thing left for me to fix. Will you marry me again, Red?”

Your heart throbs against your ribcage, almost ready to explode. “I’d love to.”

He sighs, his head falling in dismay. “Why do I feel there’s a but?”

“Because there’s a but.” You lift his chin, leaning down to press your lips softly against his. “Jake, I love you. I love you with all my heart. And I know it’s the first time I've said that in years, but I mean it. I love the Jake I married, but I also love the Jake I see in front of me. The loving, doting father who would stop everything for his kid. The excellent leader that you are. The reliable friend. The marvelous son and the protective brother. I love all these new layers I’ve been discovering for the last month.”

“Why does it feel like it’s not enough?” He mumbles, his voice breaking at the end. You feel like a monster for doing this to him.

“You’re more than enough. In fact, I feel like I’m not enough for you. You’ve changed so much, and the only thing that has changed in me are my boobs!”

Jake looks at them. “Well, they are bigger.”

“Thanks.”

“But you’ve changed, too. You’re more patient and caring than you were before, and I don’t know if that’s possible because you were already all those things. You brought up Liam alone. You’re amazing, Red.”

“Don’t make me tear up.”

He shakes his head, smiling softly. “You didn’t explain it to me. The but.”

“When we got married, you knew there were risks, right?”

He nods. “I feared that my father would find out.”

“What makes you think that when we ask for a marriage license, your father won’t find out somehow?”

Jake’s head falls, his forehead pressed against your chest. “He’ll find out, yeah.”

“It’s not just us anymore, Jake. We need to consider all of the possible outcomes." You remember him, running your fingers through his scalp. “And I would love to walk down the aisle again and see you and Liam standing there, waiting for me. But we can’t.”

“I ran away from that house, but it’s like I’ll never run away from him.” He bemoans, hugging you tightly.

“Hey, there’s another but.”

“Go ahead.” Jake doesn’t raise his head, he’s waiting for the next blow.

“I still have your surname.” You say, his eyes search yours once he hears something that piques his interest.

“Go on.”

“We practically live together.”

“Yeah.”

“We have a kid.”

“A wonderful kid.”

“And we still have our wedding rings with us.” You finish, trying to prove your point.

“So you mean that we’re basically married.”

“You said that this morning, remember? And I don’t need to sign a paper to call you my husband.”

Something flashes in his eyes. "Say that again."

"You first." You smirk, challenging him.

"My beautiful, beautiful wife." He kisses your jawline, shivers running down your back. "Did I tell you that I love you?"

"No, you didn't." You whisper, tangling your fingers between his locks.

"I love you, Mrs. Seresin. You're the love of my life."

He takes off your dog tags, opening the chain to get the rings. You do the same.

"Once I manage to get that man in jail, I'm proposing again. And we'll have a big wedding with our family and friends."

"That seems like a dream come true." You close the chain and return the dog tags to their rightful place.

"Do you remember your vows?" He asks, sliding your engagement ring onto your right hand.

"Yeah, I do. Are we reciting them again?"

"I want to." He grabs your hands, kissing your left ring finger, just like he did on your wedding day. Then, he clears his throat, a soft smile spreading over his lips. "I choose you again and again, at the start and finish of every single day, no matter the season, no matter the year. I choose you to struggle and succeed with, to fight and make up with, to love and grow old with. I choose you knowing there are still trails we must travel, knowing there are mountains left to climb. I choose you to always be by my side."

He wipes a tear away from your cheek. "I'm hearing them for the second time, but it makes more sense now, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I thought that too." He agrees with a sad yet loving smile on his lips.

"My turn." You caress his cheek, and he closes his eyes to enjoy the moment. He opens them again once he hears you take a breath. "I can't promise you that dark clouds will never hover over our lives or that the future will bring us many rainbows. I can't promise you that tomorrow will be perfect or that life will be easy. I can promise you my everlasting devotion, my loyalty, my respect and my unconditional love for a lifetime. I can promise you that I'll always be here for you, to listen and to hold your hand, and I'll always do my best to make you happy, and make you feel loved. I can promise that I'll see you through any crisis, and pray with you, dream with you, build with you, and always cheer you on and encourage you. I can promise that I'll willingly be your protector, your advisor, your counselor, your friend, your family, your everything. I promise you." Jake's tears make you cry even more. "Why are we like this?"

He chuckles, almost choking up. "I don't know. Maybe we jinxed our marriage with the vows."

"Honey, it was jinxed before we met each other."

He slides the platinum wedding band onto your left hand. "Right where it belongs."

You smile, repeating the same action. "You're ten times hotter with that ring, Mr. Seresin."

"Is that so, Mrs. Seresin?"

You nod, kissing him passionately. You feel his hands moving over your body, hugging and grabbing everything they can reach. It starts softly, turning into passionate and impatient touches that leave your whole skin burning. You feel the ache between your legs. An ache that must be satisfied before the night is over, or you will consume.

He pulls away, breathing heavily and chuckling when you follow him, not wanting the kiss to end. “If we keep going on like this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I missed you so much.”

“Don’t you dare stop now.”

His lips travel down your neck, kissing and nibbling the soft skin all the way down to your breasts, still covered by the fabric of your dress. His facial hair tickles your skin. "Jake."

"Yes, love?"

"I need you." You demand between breaths, unbuttoning his shirt.

"We need to be quiet. Well, you need to be quiet." He commands, his hands catching yours

"I'll be quiet, please. Just touch me." You beg, wanting to feel him somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. You just want him. Him. Him.

"Where's the tough Commander now, huh?" He mocks, placing his hands in your ass to hold you tight while he gets up from the sunbed. He stands in front of the bed, pondering his choices. "What should I do with you?"

"You're an asshole." You whine, leaving kisses on his neck, your teeth biting softly at his earlobe. He groans, dropping you on the bed.

"You married this asshole."

"I'm already regretting it." He kneels on the floor, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to the edge. His hands travel up your thighs, getting lost under the skirt of your dress.

"If you regret it so much, I can go sleep with Liam." His thumb presses against your covered core as he whispers dangerously close to your lips. "My sweet girl, you're a liar."

A soft mewl leaving your lips when he touches you. “Stop teasing, Jake.”

“I don’t know. You’re cute when you beg.” He takes off his shirt, slowly, one button at a time, even though there aren’t many left. You had almost unbuttoned all of them before. His eyes wander over your body, orbs darkened by lust. “What would everyone say if they found out that the badass, legendary Red Queen begs to be touched?”

“Jake, please, please.” You close your legs, rubbing them together, wanting to feel something that soothes the aching.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He slides your panties down your legs, laughing amusedly at the content sigh that escapes from your lips once his hands touch you again. “You’re so wet already and I haven’t even touched you.”

You grab him by the dog tags, pulling him closer. “It’s been three fucking years, Jake. You have two choices, you fuck me or you fuck off.”

“Nobody can fuck you as well as I do, right?” He says, kissing the inside of your knee while traveling up, leaving open-mouthed kisses on his way to your dripping cunt.

“Nobody has tried.” You confess, one hand gripping his hair and pushing him closer to where you need him.

He bites the inside of your thigh, your body jerkin up at the sensation. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I just didn’t have time.”

“I won’t make you wait anymore, then.”

And he doesn’t. While he laps up your folds, you can hear your own wetness as you close your eyes and beg the almighty that Liam doesn’t wake up because you need this. You really need it.

You moan softly when Jake lifts your leg and rests it on his shoulder. His tongue moves to your clit, lapping and sucking at the swollen bud of nerves in a rhythm that has you clasping a hand over your mouth to not moan out loud.

“When we get home, I’ll make sure we have the house to ourselves one night. I want to hear those little sweet sounds you make when I touch you.” He whispers, his hot breath hitting your core and making you shiver.

“T-that would be nice.” You manage to say, biting your lip to stop the lewd sounds that want to come out when Jake pushes one finger inside you. He moves his finger in and out, squelching sounds filling the room.

One finger becomes two. And then three. You lay down, the tension in your lower abdomen, a tension you haven't felt in a long time, becoming too much for you to sit still, your body covered in a fine layer of sweat. Jake has a dirty mouth when it comes to sex, but he knows how to use that fucking tongue.

He’s always been a giver.

“You’re close, sweet girl?” He raises his head, his mouth gleaming with your slick. You nod, and he stops moving his fingers. Your whines make him chuckle. “Use your words.”

“I’m close, Jake, please.” You moan a little too loudly, his free hand moving up to your mouth, inserting his thumb into your mouth, giving you something to do with your mouth.

“Come for me, Mrs. Seresin.” The words come out of his mouth in a raspy voice, sending shivers down your spine. The knot that has been tightening in your lower abdomen snaps. The mind-numbing orgasm crashes through you, your body shaking more and more as Jake’s fingers never stop moving. You push him away when it becomes too much, watching as he licks your arousal from his lips before kissing you. "Better now?"

"Much better." You nod, smiling and kissing him softly.

"Good. 'Cause that was only round 1." He whispers, taking off his pants.

Seems like it's going to be a long night.

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@jynxmirage @crthurston @atarmychick007 @allivingstone01

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #top gun #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin imagine

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moonieyunie · 4 months

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Hello and welcome to my blog! .•° ♡

my name is Yuna and I'm a shifter/respawner and subliminal user/maker since 2019 and into lucid dreaming since 2016. I'm a subliminal maker on Youtube under @YNASHN, I would appreciate it if you could check my channel out! I mainly repost stuff about LOA and shifting in this blog, but sometimes I like to ramble about my DRs as well and I write some educational shifting/LOA posts too. This is also a safe place for any shifter/respawner, anti shifters/respawner are NOT welcome.

Enjoy your stay. ♡

About me

Cancer sun, Libra moon, Virgo rising

Neurodivergent (tone tags are not needed but appreciated!)

I'm a native german speaker and can also communicate in english, so if anyone wants to ask something on my ask box in german, go ahead!

Fav artists: Taylor Swift (rep and midnights >>>), Tokio Hotel, MARINA, Pinkpantheress, Michael Jackson, Vocaloid Producers (OkameP, Yuyoyuppe, Maretu, MuryokuP), IU, Sunmi

Aroace (grayromantic, asexual)

I cuss a lot, so be warned lol

Info for my ask box .•° ♡

I haven't shifted yet but I've had some mini-shifts (basically I shifted to realities familiar to this one), but I'm quite experienced with lucid dreaming and have entered the void multiple times (only through lucid dreaming tho)

I'm still pretty new to LOA so most of my "educational posts" are mostly personal reminders. I'm not a good explainer so pls don't expect from me to be able to answer every question :')

Also english isn't my first language so my answers might seem a bit direct and plain.

#loassumption #loa blog #loa tumblr #shifting #reality shifting #law of assumption #shiftblr #shifting realities #shifting community #about me #introduction #loablr #law of manifestation #blog intro #intro post

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anxiouspineapple99 · 11 months

Text

Okay here goes nothing! My original fic has turned into a monstrosity because my maladaptive daydreaming said “bitch we need to Tolkien tf outta this.” So I may post that one later when I’m done fleshing it out and I may not if the dopamine kick for my currently unmedicated ADHD wears off. However, it did result in this (longer than I intended) one shot. I feel pretty vulnerable posting this tbh but it’s good for my anxiety to do this. A few notes before continuing. I almost wrote this in third person because while I love reading me a good character X reader fic when other writers use “you” whooooo boy was that hard for me. Also because it was born of MD, the initial story was a first person OC but I don’t feel comfortable writing that yet so here we are. Okay I am rambling now sooooo here I go before I read it again, see everything I hate about it and chicken out!

Fireflies

@deewithani asked to be tagged when I posted so hi and I hope you enjoy! 😊

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Tech x GN!reader

Word count: 2017ish

Warnings: fluff. Lots of it cause I love fluff. Fluff so sweet your teeth might fall out.

One cycle. It had been almost one full cycle since The Batch had landed on your secluded planet of the Outer Rim. You’d made your way here following Order 66 and the villagers of the tiny island on which you now lived were more than welcoming. You were still heartbroken, however. You were alone. You felt like a failure. You were a Jedi healer and you couldn’t save any of them. Your former master, the younglings, your friends in The Order, your friends that were clones. So when The Batch arrived you were conflicted. Torn between the fear that they may also turn on you but also feeling immense comfort in their presence. You kept your secret, you couldn’t get hurt if they didn’t know. Regardless, you began to open back up slowly but surely. You made cookies for Omega and Wrecker, shared dry jokes with Echo, and carried out pleasant conversations with Hunter. However as the days pressed on, you found yourself seeking Tech’s company the most. You loved hearing him talk about anything and everything. You shared your own scientific and medical experience (withholding key details about your time as a healer) and theories with him. You loved the lively debates and learning from him. Watching him working on the Marauder was your guilty pleasure pastime. You felt almost normal again.

Nonetheless, you were feeling guilty for not being completely transparent about who you were. So tonight was the night. You were going to tell him everything. Sort of. Actually you were going to drop massive hints. Tech was brilliant. If he hadn’t figured out your secret yet, you were certain he would figure it out tonight. You decided you would take him to your special place; a secluded alcove off the beach. In your early days on the island you’d accidentally discovered it was home to a small swarm of Tython Fireflies which only hatch during the warmest cycles, like now. They’re also Force sensitive and tend to gravitate to Force wielders. He should be able to connect the dots with that alone, you thought to yourself. Also, you really did want to show him the fireflies; and, maybe, you just wanted to be alone with him. Even if just for a short while.

“Tech! Are you available tomorrow evening? There is an incredible natural phenomenon that I think you would appreciate!” You had asked him. “Yes, I am available,” he’d told you. “Fantastic. Meet me at the old trail just an hour before dusk,” you’d instructed.

“You’re early,” you cheekily teased when you opened your door to an unexpected knock. “Obviously. Is that a problem?” Tech answered. You shrugged, “Nope. Just an observation. Are you ready?” “Lead the way,” he answered, holding an arm out, beckoning you to walk ahead of him. You shot him a flirtatious grin over your shoulder as you led him down the path to the alcove. Maker, was he incredible. You reveled briefly in his Force signature as you walked, noting its warmth. You loved the companionable silence the two of you shared. Almost as much as you loved the conversations. As you traversed the rocky tide pools you pointed out native species and he shared stories of aquatic species he, his brothers, and Omega encountered while on missions. You could listen to him talk all day. You admired how effortlessly he trekked over the uneven and slippery path; graceful and almost entirely silent. He was bloody beautiful and you wanted to look at him forever.

“It’s just this way!” you excitedly called to him. You reached out to the tangle of vines hanging from the rocky ocean cliffs. Pulling them back revealed a weather beaten opening. The two of you emerged on the other side into a small inlet. From the rock face poured a waterfall into a small lagoon. In it were some of the biggest and most elegant Goldies you’d seen, and was saying something because the ones that were kept in the Jedi Temple were impressive.The inlet was draped in exquisite greenery, trees, and radiant flowers. The sand was soft and still warm and the birds were singing their roosting songs as the sun crept lower toward the horizon. “We are here!” you exclaimed, holding out your arms and doing a little spin. “Quite impressive. There is a wide array of flora and fauna here I haven’t seen on the rest of the island,” Tech mused as he wandered about inquisitively with his datapad in hand. You giggled at how cute he was inspecting each flower, fish, and insect, rattling off facts about the ones he knew and making notes to research the unfamiliar. You walked up beside him, “There’s more. Do you see those pods hanging from the trees?” You asked. “I do,” Tech responded, adjusting his goggles. You continued, “Those are the egg sacks of the Tython Fireflies. They only hatch during the warm cycles, like now. When dusk arrives in only a few moments those will open with thousands of new hatchlings ready to spread their wings.” Tech began typing on his datapad, “Fascinating! Tython Fireflies, I know I have heard of those before—“ Before he could continue, you grabbed his arm, “Shh! Look! They’re beginning to hatch!” You both stood still as the pods split and the fireflies emerged, slowly at first. As their wings dried they began to pour from the pods like shimmering gold water. You could hear their songs within the Force, however the audible humming of their wings was also lovely. You held a hand out; first one and then another landed in your palm. One, five, eventually ten and twenty little lights encircling your outreached hand, they were warm and found comfort in the Living Force within you. Tech watched speechless for a moment, completely enraptured by the sight before him. You, under the emerging stars, in this picturesque location with sweet fireflies landing in your hands like they were pets. Time escaped you as you both basked in the moment.

“Ah yes, Tython Fireflies, I recall now. In Mando’a they are called “be’jetti Ka'ra '' or the Jedi’s Stars, because they are particularly fond of Force sensitive---” Tech stopped, looking at you with the sudden realization. “Hm, that is interesting,” you hummed coyly, confirming the unspoken between the two of you. “Wait. I want to show you something else,” you added as you grabbed his hands. You cupped them as if you were preparing to pour something in them, “Don’t move.” You walked to the nearest pod and scooped a handful of the new hatchlings. They hummed and buzzed in your hands, sounding happy and comforted by the living Force they felt in your fingers. You slowly walked back to Tech and gently placed them into his cupped palms. You then tenderly placed your hands around his, brushing his knuckles softly with your fingertips. As the hatchlings gathered their strength and their glow intensified, they illuminated his face. His brown eyes looked even more beautiful than you thought possible. He held your gaze and your heart felt as if it would leap from your chest, the space between you closing slowly. You sighed, smiled, and then whispered, “On my command, hold them up. Three…two…one…now.” Together, you raised your hands into the air and the hatchlings took flight swirling and dancing around you both as if there was a song neither of you could hear. As they dissipated into the foliage you moved to sit on a rock closest to the lagoon. “Well? What do you think?” you tentatively probed. “About which part? Your being a Jedi or the impressive light show you’ve just shown me?” he answered walking toward you.

“Both, I suppose.”

He sat next to you, thigh pressed against yours. You were suddenly keenly aware of how warm he was, soft, and kriff, he smelled amazing. You inhaled deeply taking in his scent, a combination of smokey and subtly spicy with the faintest remnants of oil likely from his constant tinkering on the Marauder.

“I am surprised I did not realize before now that you were a Jedi. In retrospect there were many signs I should have picked up on. However, I do not blame you for not being forthcoming before tonight. Though, you are safe with us. We have all had our chips removed and Omega never had one. As for this,” he motioned with his hands indicating he was now speaking about your surroundings. “This was remarkable. And I thank you for sharing it with me. It has, however, led me to ponder a hypothesis I have been rolling around recently. With your permission, of course.”

“Of course. I always enjoy a good experiment!” you chirped with a smile. He shifted to angle himself toward you. He confidently smirked as he tipped your head up, thumb and index fingers tenderly holding your chin. He then moved in and kissed you firmly. You didn’t hesitate and leaned into it bringing your hand to his cheek.

“Fascinating,” he crooned as he pulled back. “I believe this hypothesis will require further testing.”

“Well then, I suppose we should get to work,” you cooed as you leaned in again. The next kiss was deep and desperate. Tech’s fingers dug into your waist, pulling you to him while his other hand was fervidly tangled in your hair. Your hands roamed from his face to his neck, pulling him in not wanting to let go. You were tangled in each other for an unknown amount of time, hands roaming, drinking each other in under the stars.

And then his comm began to buzz. You both reluctantly pulled back, out of breath and ravenous for more. “One moment,” he sighed.

“Tech where are you?” Hunter’s irritated voice cut through the peaceful night air. “There are some repairs we need to finish here and you said you’d be back by now.”

“Apologies Hunter. We were…delayed,” Tech answered shortly, adjusting his goggles once again.

There was a pause and then a quiet chuckle from Hunter, “I see. Just try not to wake us up when you get back.”

“Copy that.”

“It is late. We should start making our way back,” you sighed, closing your eyes and focusing on Tech’s fingers that had made their way back to your hair. He sighed and leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yes, I know.” He stood up and extended his hand to you. You took it, momentarily marveling at how perfectly your hands fit together. As you made your way back together you leaned into his shoulder and said, “You know, my Mando’a is pretty rusty. I’d love to learn more.” Tech squeezed your hand and replied, “Fortunately, I am an exceptional teacher.” You laughed and he smiled warmly at you. Your laugh was musical to him. “I was going to say that you’re lucky that I’m an excellent pupil,” you teased. He bumped your shoulder with his arm playfully and chuckled.

The walk home was far too short for both of you. When you arrived you stalled trying to avoid the inevitable end to the night. “Thank you for coming with me tonight, Tech. It far exceeded my expectations and is, without a doubt, now my favorite experience there. And thank you for trusting me to test that…hypothesis,” you said as you smiled shyly, just missing his gaze.

He lifted your head so he could meet your eyes with his, “You are the only one I wish to test that hypothesis with. And I will continue to do so until you no longer wish to.” You blushed and answered, “This will be an extremely long running experiment then.” You stood on your tip toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips, “Good night, Tech.”

You turned to go inside but he held on to your hand a moment longer and uttered, “Mesh’la.” You stopped and turned to face him once again, “What?”

“Consider this your first lesson in Mando’a, mesh’la.”

“Oh! And what does that mean?”

He brought his hand to your face and you pressed your cheek into his palm as he answered, “It means ‘beautiful’.”

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