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strang3lov3 · 6 months

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Halloween Special

Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.

Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas

A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️❤️ btw it is my birthday🎂🎉🥳i'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3

“Why do all of these women’s costumes look like they’re from Victoria’s Secret?”, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. You’ve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now you’re sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy.

Halloween doesn’t make much sense post-apocalypse. If there’s any candy left, it’s all rotten. It’s not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The party’s tonight.

“Who knows,” Joel mumbles, “Just how it was.”

“Did you dress all slutty too?”

“‘Course I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.”

“Then here–”, you toss Joel a nurse costume, “Be a slutty nurse for the party.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. You’ve got girls’ and boys’ costumes sorted by size, and along with mens’ and women’s. “What are you gonna dress up as, then?”

“I dunno. Do I have to?”, Joel asks, “I don’t even wanna go.”

“Too bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. It’s mandatory.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What are you going as, then?” you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. “Knucklehead’, it reads. So fucking stupid. “Get it?”

“Ha-ha,” you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. “Do you want any help with those bags?” you ask.

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.”

“Will I see you tonight?”

“Depends. How slutty you dressin’?” Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.

“You know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.”

“Mmm. Definitely stayin’ home, then. Get the door for me?” Joel asks as he’s standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands.

“Sure,” you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea.

–

You get to Maria and Tommy’s around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. There’s red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. “Hey you,” he says. “What do we have here?”

You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, “Shut up and quit smilin’,” before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Tommy laughs too. “Joel?”

“Bingo,” you reply. You’re wearing Joel’s flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl.

“Costume is spot on, ‘cept for one thing,” you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, “You’re much easier on the eyes than he is.”

“Oh, stop it,” you blush and smack his arm. “Speaking of, Joel here yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. He’s gonna hate your costume, darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ hate it.”

“Good, that was the plan,” you smile mischievously.

“I like how you roll, sister,” Tommy drawls. “An’ in fact…” Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his baby’s nursery.

“What are we doing, Tommy?”

“Shh, be cool, be cool,” Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but he’s got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. “Now we’re cookin’,” he says. “Gotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.”

“Ahh,” you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. That’s good.

“And–” Tommy continues, “You gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?”

“Sure,” you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you–”

“Oh, very close,” Tommy laughs, “Nah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what I’m sayin’?” you shake your head no. “That’s okay. M’gonna teach ya.”

Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, you’re both in a fit of giggles. “God, sweetheart, I love ya. Joel’s gonna shit a brick.”

You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joel’s sitting. He’s at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. You’re still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Howdy, pardner.”

“Uh, hi,” Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way you’re both smiling, definitely causing trouble. “The hell are you two so happy about?”

“Nothin’.” you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Don’t pronounce the ‘ing’ at the end of those words. It’s ‘In’. Nothing, nothin’. Fucking, fuckin’. Something, somethin’. “Uh, Joel, what’s your costume?”

“What’s it look like? I’m a pirate,” he grumbles. He’s got an…interesting take on a pirate costume. He’s wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. You’re pretty sure there was a men’s pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier.

Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. “Well, don’t you look cuter than a dimple on a bug’s ass.”

“Did you just have a stroke?” Joel squints at you, “Wait a fuckin’ second–that’s my shirt.”

You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, “Well slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!”

Joel’s blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. You’ve got one less button closed than what he wears, and he’s fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. “Where did you even–never mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ain’t–”

“This ain’t funny,” you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly.

Tommy’s giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. “Don’t encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?” Goddamn little brothers.

“What, don’t y’all like my costume? I’m you.”

“‘Course you are,” Joel grumbles. “Though a witch would be more fitting,” He looks at you closer, “What the hell is wrong with your hair?”

“I’m a silver fox just like you, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not call me that. I can’t even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.” He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy.

“You,” a voice interrupts. It’s Maria, dressed as a black cat. She’s so cute. “You two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joel’s gonna wring her neck.”

Tommy shrugs. “It was her idea.”

Maria doesn’t care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel.

You make your way through the living room, check the porch. It’s only when you’re in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. “What in tarnation?” you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. “This bedroom ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take off your pants. Do it now,” he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joel’s - shirt. “Pants,” he scolds you, annoyed. “You keep my shirt on for this.”

You quit unbuttoning the shirt, “Thought you don’t like my costume?”

“I don’t,” Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. He’s all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because you’re wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are what’s really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine.

In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, “You’re hard as a match–wait,” you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, “Shit fire and save matches, you’re hard as a r–”

“Don’t have time for this,” Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. “You have no–” he kisses your other thigh, “Fuckin’ idea,” then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, “What you’re doin’ to me, wearin’ my shirt like that. M’gonna devour you, sweetheart.”

Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, “Fuck,” you moan, fingers carding through Joel’s hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you can’t stop. You struck gold. “Heaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!”

Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. “You done yet?”

“Darn tootin’,” You get no reaction from Joel. “Yes...I’m done.”

“So fuckin’ sick of you. S’not funny. I don’t talk like that.”

And he’s right back where he was. First he’s inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste. He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.

You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.

“Good lord,” Joel whispers against you. He eats you like he’s starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. “Fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” Your skin, your musk, your arousal. He’s addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs.

“Joel,” you cry, rocking your hips against his face. You’re moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.

He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.

“Yeah Joel, right there,” you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joel’s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone for him. “M’so close.”

“This ain’t about you,” he growls. “Y’got yer kicks already, didn’t you? Teasin’ me in your little getup. Pokin’ fun and bein’ mean t’me.”

“No, Joel, I wasn’t–”

“I don’t care, sweetheart,” Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. “I don’t care. This ain’t about you. M’doin’ this f’me. Don’t you dare come.”

But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just can’t help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and you’re limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.

When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he breathes.

“It was an accident,” you reply.

“Accident, my ass.” You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that you’re not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what you’re planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, you’re exhausting.

You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didn’t use his fingers on you. But you’re committed to what you have planned.

“Joel,” you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. “I have something to tell you.”

“What could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?” That devious smirk on your face…he knows what you’re about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, “For the love of god…Go on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.”

“YEEEE HAWWW!” you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The party’s loud, but not that loud. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “The fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like that…Christ almighty.”

He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. “My fuckin’ turn, now. Drivin’ me to drink,” He stuffs it into in your mouth, “Can you breathe?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.

He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he pants. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible.”

You can’t smile, can’t speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joel’s shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like you’re a painting, just for him.

“God,” Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.

Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.

He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. “Joel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.”

“Oh, yeah,” He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it,

“You weren’t s’posed to take this out of your mouth,” he says, “Least you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?” he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. “You do that for me?”

You smile. If only you weren’t all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you don’t have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“You really didn’t like my costume?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. “Bless your heart.”

You tilt your head, confused, “What’s that one?”

“What, Tommy didn’t teach you that one?” You mumble a no and Joel hums. “S’a classic.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Well, I’d tell you to ask Tommy but you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore,” Joel says. “Fuckin’ corrupted you. An’ it’s a shame, ‘cause I was startin’ to like you. God, he’s an asshole,” he complains, “And you are too, for that matter.”

You smile to yourself, then kiss Joel’s cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, “Your costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies. “Now get lost, you.”

When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. It’s Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, “What’d you teach her now?”

Tommy smirks. “Nothin’,” then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. “Yee-haw, cowboy.”

Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #mall rats #mall rats!joel #mall rats joel #halloween special #joel miller fic #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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ceilidho · 9 months

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prompt: post-apocalypse ghost/reader fic where ghost and the rest of his team come across the feral, blood-soaked reader who stabs first and asks questions later. (on ao3 here)

The world ends on a Monday.

Abysmal timing; they’re on leave by chance, the whole lot of them. Soap and Gaz are playing cards in the barracks when they get the call. Price is still in his office when a phone in the corner of the room that never rings suddenly does (he stares at it for a time before picking it up). Ghost is someplace, no one knows for sure; what they do know is that when he does finally answer their calls, he’s out of breath and there’s a thread of panic in his voice that makes the blood in Soap’s veins run cold.

He’s never heard him sound like that. He never will again.

The virus rages across the country, hopping borders like they melt away into the ether. Country after country toppelling to this unnamed virus that demolishes society so completely that there was never a chance for the military to contain it. That chance evaporates before even the faintest spark of hope is lit.

Soap is used to killing, but what he never gets used to is the sight of those things that take human shape. Calling them zombies is easy at first, but even that name comes with a sense of distance; it evokes things seen in films and tv shows, not the real flesh-and-blood of it all, not sitting in a caravan speeding down the motorway with bodies torn apart and scattered across the road. He learns to bite his teeth and hold his bile down at the sight of one of those creatures hunched over the masticated remains of a person.

Then suddenly it’s seven months later. The core unit of them make their way across the continent, taking back roads where they’re less likely to encounter the hoards of infected. They’ve had too many close calls for them to take chances anymore—even armed to the gills and strapped in body armor (the remnants of the military efforts that collapsed within days), Gaz’s shoulder pad has crumpled beneath too sharp teeth and Roach has had his legs swept out from under him, his throat nearly exposed, nearly torn open.

Ghost’s hands are still wet with gore from taking that infected apart. If any of them make it, it will likely be him.

A part of Soap worries about Ghost. Even he feels the tender edges of his own humanity bristle at the day-in and day-out struggle that is now a luxury rather than a hardship. Just being able to survive is a miracle. Ghost just goes dark. From the little Soap knows of Ghost (which is still more than most; he’s confident enough to say that of their group, he’s the one that Ghost shows himself to the most), he knows that Ghost has already endured enough suffering for an army. Never mind a single man.

There’s a flatness behind his eyes these days and it scares Soap, just a bit. He no longer looks like a person behind a mask but rather the sun-baked skull itself.

His worry only fades when they come across the girl.

She’s a feral little thing, half-starved and out of her mind. They see her slip in and out of abandoned houses when they make their way through a small village in the French countryside (or what Soap thinks is France), hair matted with sweat and blood.

It’s Ghost that pauses, Ghost that makes them stop and detours long enough to creep up on her, holding a big hand to her mouth when she howls and tries to tear his whole arm off. It takes over an hour to calm her down long enough to reassure her that they mean her no harm. She tries to take off no less than six times.

Soap has never seen Ghost look smitten, but there’s no other word for it.

When Price tentatively suggests leaving the girl behind—not a terrible suggestion after she tries to stab Ghost—the look Ghost levels him with brooks no further arguments. They’re keeping the girl.

She’s his problem, as far as Soap and the rest of them are concerned. No name, unless it’s Soap yelling “Girl” or “Hey, you!” when she does something stupid like actively seeking out infected to kill. Ghost chuckles all deep baritone when he sees her hack away at an infected man’s neck. It’s enough to make a man hurl. Love in a time of zombies.

He hears them murmuring to each other sometimes, late at night when the team is holed up in a house or a barn they’ve commandeered. Doors always reinforced, someone standing guard on the roof. The low rasp of Ghost’s voice, almost susurrous, almost intimate. Her voice like a chittering wolf.

Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Soap doesn’t look away from the wall in front of him. He knows if he does, if he turns over from where he’s supposed to be sleeping, he’ll see Ghost hovering over the girl roughly half his size, her face blocked only by the way his arms frame either side of her head. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach the sight of his friend’s hips bucking into the girl.

He hears him mutter something like, “You needed to be found. I needed to find you.” and then it’s enough. He lets his brain shut off.

If it keeps Ghost sane and with them, so be it.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod prompts #soap mctavish #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ceil writing #simon riley x you #ghost/reader

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azirafeast · 6 months

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I am SO EXCITED for the 4th Annual #Azirafeast, The Feast Day of the Angel Aziraphale, an inclusive fandom event! It’s celebrated November 19th and is a made-up holiday that brings the community together, regardless of how a person participates in fandom.

On November 19th, everyone is welcome to celebrate the Feast Day of Aziraphale by drinking cocoa and wine, eating good food, reading, being stylish on their own terms, enjoying the company of friends and embracing the spirit of Aziraphale! Please share your pics on socials with #Azirafeast!

Creators are encouraged to show Aziraphale indulging in what makes him happy or why you love him (canon or fanon!) Create “Lore” for why Aziraphale has a feast day! What miracles throughout history has he performed? Creations can be dramatic, serious, sexy or silly!

All forms of creation are welcome: Draw, write, sing, act, sew, bake, cosplay or anything else! However YOU want to appreciate our favorite angel. All variations, versions and representations of Aziraphale are welcome on the feast of Aziraphale.

Anything tagged #Azirafeast or I will reblog, the same for Instagram and Twitter. I’ve had a permanent highlight on my Instagram for the last 3 years, and maintained this tumblr. Check out what others have made for previous years!

There is also an AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Azirafeast

Anything added to it I will promote on my socials for #azirafeast.

I know I don’t have the biggest following, but the idea is that on the feast of Aziraphale even fans who don’t have a large social media presence will still be seen, still have their experiences noticed, and will feel part of a community that cares.

Folk can get stressed about creating by a “due date.” I encourage folk to post early if they want, and to keep posting after Nov 19 if they miss the day or don’t finish in time. Aziraphale procrastinated on preventing the apocalypse, you’re just embracing that energy!

And remember, you don’t have to “make” anything to participate. Eating cake and lying to your boss is a great way to celebrate! Confuse some customers, watch a nature documentary, get drunk, be kind to someone (Muriel) who is new but trying their best!

Just make sure to tag your contributions with either #azirafeast so we can celebrate with you! Please feel welcome to take my words and reshare anyway that you like, and make your own posts to generate awareness! Please do share in any fandom communities you’re a part of, or feel free to try to convince people IRL this is totally a real holiday.

I do not run, own, control or anything of the sort in regards to #azirafeast. The idea came from Cliopadra and a private discord server, and the brilliant folk there picked the date and ran with it. I encourage folk to participate because I think it’s a lovely idea! It is NOT “mine.”

#azirafeast #feast of aziraphale #good omens #the feast of aziraphale #Azirafeast2023 #Azirafeast announcement

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stainedglassthreads · 6 months

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I feel like the four leads of Deltarune--Kris, Susie, Ralsei, and Noelle-are just. Somehow two different levels of queer-coded.

(Edit: Just to be clear: not saying any of this to disparage or insult shippers of Kralsei, Suselle, or Kriselle, I've just seen a lot of cool analysis about tropes, romance, and lack of choice in Deltarune and wanted to chime in with some of my own thoughts. If you ship any of those ships in Deltarune--fantastic! May you find a lot of content precisely to your taste.)

Like. On the one hand, if you're looking at tropes, they are very neatly set up into two romantic partnerships. Noelle is very blatantly interested in Susie, and Ralsei's feelings for Kris are often portrayed similarly. On a surface level, both pairings appear very clear. Noelle is a girl in love with another girl, while Ralsei is a very effeminate boy in love with a teen who doesn't appear to use pronouns. And a big deal isn't made of either pairing, there's nothing really in the way of Suselle or Kralsei on a societal level we've encountered so far. At least in terms of gender and sexuality. But if you look a little closer, it's kind of...'these are a very straight idea of queer ships', y'know?

Noelle and Susie are both girls, but one is very effeminately coded, anxious, uses magic, and is more traditionally cute, while they other is crass, crude, intimidating, and physically strong. Ralsei and Kris are gender-noncomforming, but Ralsei is a sweet pacifistic healer who bakes cakes while Kris uses a sword, and keeps being mistaken for a boy by much of Youtube and Reddit. The active one and the passive one, the fighter and the mage, the one with cute hobbies and the one who eats moss, the one in pants and the one in a dress.

And here, I start thinking of some posts I've seen analyzing how, in Deltarune, romance is used to explore how Kris doesn't really get choices. Kris has been cast as the leader and knight, and Ralsei has been cast as the healer and Princess, even if he is a boy. The leader often ends up with the healer. The knight often gets the princess as a happy ending. But Kris doesn't seem to like this! Their reactions to Ralsei are constantly lukewarm at best, and that's not getting into how Ralsei seems to be in love with his idea of Kris, while being very. Asriel-coded, who the game describes often as Kris' brother, in sharp contrast to how ambiguous Chara and Frisk's relationships with the Dreemurrs were.

If we and Kris reject Ralsei as a love interest, we can a different romantic partner in Noelle...but this choice has a bodycount, traumatizes Noelle, doesn't seem to leave Kris any happier, and it's still a kind of straight-coded ship. Now it's the knight being paired up with the apocalypse maiden, for the doomed codepedent toxic tragedy lovers out there. But it kinda makes sense too, right? If Kralsei is the expected RPG romance, then Kriselle would be the expected romance if there were no Dark World and Ralsei weren't an option. They're childhood friends and neighbors in a small town, their families used to be very close, Rudy is still very fond of Kris. They're even extremely angel/devil coded.

But the most interesting part is. It's implied that there IS someone that Kris is very interested in, either platonically or romantically. It's Susie. Kris never seems frightened by Susie when they're bullied by her, and rejects Noelle's offers to switch seats. They seek comfort from Susie rather than Ralsei after the Spamton fight, they call her their friend when Toriel calls, they share moss with her, they refuse to think about her during Snowgrave when Ralsei prompts them, they make it clear that out of all the people they COULD go to the Carnival with, Susie is the one they'd ACTUALLY want to choose.

And this is the part that drives me crazy. Because while Kris is so tightly controlled by genre and narrative, and those things would usually push them towards Ralsei or Noelle, and Ralsei keeps encouraging Kris to stick to the narrative. Susie is the one who refuses to be bound to the narrative. Susie is the character of Deltarune who is most unapologetically herself--and isn't that a very queer thing, refusing to be anyone but yourself despite everything? She says no thanks to the prophecy, until she comes around to it on her own terms! She makes herself and Ralsei learn to take their own actions, and drags Ralsei off to have fun with him instead of letting Kris choose who to with! She doesn't stay in her box of the damage-dealing fighter, she insists on learning Healing magic, even if she's not particularly skilled at it at first! Even Ralsei is forced to admit that it's wonderful that Susie is Susie, and not anyone else!

I think Kris likes Susie a lot. And part of it may be admiration. That while Kris is controlled by the player and the narrative and the prophecy and humanity and divorce and a dozen things outside their control, Susie refuses to ever be bound by anything. And Kris and Susie together happen to be the two more masculinely-coded party members, the two melee fighters, the two troublemakers. It honestly makes me wonder a little if Susie and Kris might be able to make their own ending beyond the bounds of gender expectations and romance expectations together? It would be cool. And I think it would make Kris very happy to break free like that.

#deltarune #deltarune meta #deltarune analysis #deltarune theory #kris dreemurr #susie #noelle holiday #ralsei #kralsei #kriselle #krusie

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ox1-lovesick · 9 months

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✶ ─── TOMORROW X TOGETHER AND THINGS WITH THEM

🍇 pairing. txt x gn!reader genre. fluff warnings. mentions of food, pda (?), wc. 50-100 each

🍇 type. headcannon , reaction

🍇 a/n. abandoned the tyun and hyuka fic for now 💀 this is like a filler fic or something i have such bad writers block. i know for a fact that soobin crochets

% YEONJUN

late night walks ; gentle kisses to your knuckles ; catching him staring ; errands to the convenience store at 3 in the morning ; holding hands ; sharing earphones ; leaning your head on his shoulder ; sharing lip glosses ; netflix marathons ; fashion shows at 2 am ; spontaneous dance sessions ; late night drives ; candid pictures ; slow dancing ; cooking ; sharing jewellery ; kisses through the phone ; matching jewelry

% SOOBIN

comparing hand sizes ; feeding each other ; interlocking pinkies ; desert before dinner ; baking ; sharing clothes and jewelry ; 1000 piece puzzles ; movie dates ; crocheting together ; croc shopping dates ; clothing hauls ; editing vlogs together ; food fights ; disney dates ; couple cosplays and halloween costumes ; pillow talk about the future ; tying your shoelaces for you ; giving you his jacket when it's cold ; matching socks and bracelets

% BEOMGYU

kisses in the rain ; hand-written love letters ; bouquets of roses ; sleeping in together ; doodling on each others hands ; scented candles ; bickering for fun ; backhugs ; raindrop races ; long bus rides ; sharing earphones ; picnic dates ; photo albums ; half anniversaries ; forehead kisses ; impromptu karaoke nights ; guitar lessons ; secret handshakes ; build-a-bear dates ; feeding each other ; pillow talk ; hiding tomatoes in his food ; painting each other's nails ; holding open the door for you

% TAEHYUN

long and warm hugs ; locking pinkies ; poking his dimples ; falling asleep on his chest ; cheek kisses ; stargazing ; library dates ; cooking for each other ; communicating through morse code ; study dates ; reading together ; sharing cutlery ; pinky promises ; kisses to your knuckles ; post it notes with messages ; holding hands ; feeding each other ; falling asleep on the phone with him ; playlists dedicated to each other ; gentle kisses ; powerpoint nights ; "5 more minutes" mornings ; flowers "just because"

% HUENINGKAI

naming all his plushies ; palm kisses ; zoo dates ; buzzfeed quizzes to see who'd survive the zombie apocalypse ; breakdancing in the dining room ; pokemon impressions ; piano lessons ; holding hands, everywhere ; kisses to the tips of your fingers ; pillow and tickle fights ; sneaking juice boxes and animal biscuits in your lunch

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morallyinept · 4 months

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MISTLETOE KISS - A Post-Outbreak Joel Miller Christmas One Shot

Summary: At the Tipsy Bison Christmas party in Jackson, you and Joel share your first kiss together under some mistletoe.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.7k

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. You're safe.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - None, it's just you & Joel smoochin'.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Well, here we are, the last story in my 12 Days of XXX-Mas stories with some of the Pedro Boys. I hope you've enjoyed reading them all, and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, lovelies. 🖤

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

His lips drag against yours gently, that bottom plumpy one catching on yours and feeling fleshy and wet.

The occasional click of your intense osculation is like music to your ears, all your senses fine-tuned and solely focused onto the delicate smooch he plants on your lips - you’re in the Joel Miller zone wholly.

It’s taken a while to get here; to this exact point.

To be standing in the Tipsy Bison with Joel’s enormous hands gently cupping the side of your face.

Two souls thrust together in a small commune, each with your own horrific stories clinging onto your backs for the ride, and both feeling the pinching fear of something new developing between you both, even though you're terrified to indulge.

Months of a slow burn, exchanging longing looks, crafting small slices of conversation into something shapely and whole.

Gentle, tentative steps in your mutual attraction and shared pain from the last twenty odd years hunkering down and surviving the end of the world.

Terrified to misinterpret or assume. Terrified to lose it when you finally find it.

Slow, nudging movements have brought you both here; sharing a few words mumbled at one another when you discovered you were neighbours. Then company on occasion, with shared food becoming regular nights together as you baked him some treats and he poured you some whiskey.

And now, here, your first kiss together. Not in private, but for the whole commune to see and bask in.

Longing glances as you passed him working on frames for the new houses to go up in the commune, sometimes you brought him a sandwich. And he'd share it with you.

Then an offer of a drink at the Christmas party; a mutual hope that you both would want to attend and sway each other out of the lonely house and into the cheery atmosphere.

Joel had looked up and seen the mistletoe hanging over the bar where you both stood, partaking in the Christmas traditions that had come out of the apocalypse unscathed, and with that festive warmth the season still brings.

The tree in the corner is a little bare, and sure the tinsel is scraggly and thinning, but it’s still magical nonetheless.

It was a small, shy peck as he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek, blushing across his large nose. But as he pulled away, that magnetism had brought you back together again, unable to repel your polar opposites.

And now his deft hands cling onto your face; the pads of his thumbs gently resting on the bottom of your eye sockets and his thick, calloused fingers wind inside your roots behind your ears. You can feel him scritch and rummage about in there as he pulls you closer onto his mouth.

The soft whoosh of air expelled from Joel's nostrils as he breathes out on a satisfied hum, warms your philtrum and upper lip as his tongue explores yours; swooping and swishing around it in a gentle, yet tantalising tango that you never want to end.

The affectionate massaging of your head around his hands as they dance upon your skin, tingles. Like falling into the universe, tumbling about utterly weightless and with your final destination unknown, you're floating... lost.

Time is a commodity that no longer exists; a melting clock on a canvas. It stops and there is just... him. You. Together.

It strokes, brushes and slips around yours; a gentle tussle in which he emerges the victor when he suckles on it gently, sending you whizzing off into the greater depths of space, never to be discovered again as you fall into the sun, burning up into dust, Icarus style.

Only Joel, holding tightly onto you now around your waist, pulling you closer into the gravity of him.

You reach up around the back of his thick neck - the skin feeling uniquely soft in its roughness there in the nape - stepping up on tip toes as you cling onto him, your head swims with bubbles and wanders off into fields of gold.

There’s no-one here, only him.

The festive gathering tinkles around you both; people swarming in and out and drawn into other’s orbits as they drink and make merry on this night filled with schmaltzy Christmas tunes from era’s gone by.

But their noise, instead of amplified, is drowned out. Their presence melts away into the walls until there is just only the sound of him, the feel of Joel's heart thrumming against yours in your rib cage; the whiskey cadence of his taste inside your mouth drawing you into the cavernous vortex of him.

In your dreams, he can hurt you; in your dreams he only exists for a fleeting few moments before you wake up and shake all memory of his face free from conscious thought.

For a while, he only existed there, in a make believe world where anything can happen and the horrors of the world are bleached away temporarily.

Only in your wildest dreams can this happen in its physicality, surely? It’s far-fetched, absurd... impossible.

But even the word impossible has possible in it, right?

He’s just a man, he holds no mystical, pussy-taming powers; he’s insignificant, miniscule amongst the eight billion people who inhabited this watery planet until it was picked off to a measly scarce number... so, why him?

Why is he the one the reach out to you and pull you close into his personal space and share it with you, share his unabiding warmth and plant his lips on yours and make you forget your name and how to breathe?

It’s just a kiss, right? No kiss can ever make you feel like this, surely? That’s some movie bullshit right here.

But yet, you feel him scorching all over your soul and leaving powdery imprints on it long after it’s reduced to ash.

Your body is buzzing, your toes even throb inside your worn out shoes as you feel his hands clutch tighter around your waist and pull you closer into him still.

Pressed up against him, packed in tight against that stacked chest of his wrapped in soft, bobbling plaid, that you run your hands up.

You’ve always wondered what this would be like to experience again, feeling that it would never happen because eligible bachelors have now been replaced with repugnant, violent men in a repugnant, violent world.

Mourning the experience of that first kiss with the man of your dreams... that wondrous face you’ve dreamt of coming into close proximity with yours, and you think about nothing else now except how he tastes.

If Joel Miller were a taste, what would his flavour be exactly?

The freedom before work, bills, responsibilities; stresses, adulting, heartbreaks... surviving and enduring.

He tastes of a playful innocence; some sepia nostalgia somewhere from inside your childhood - a happy memory that’s taken up root in your amygdala to stay forever, even though it’s a bit hazy now.

Like a fuzzy camcorder video from the late eighties; a carefree moment when all that mattered in the world was the pure, unadulterated freedom you felt back then.

The time when the only thing you had to worry about was how far up that tree you could climb before your siblings, or how fast your bike could go down that hill making you scream wildly with a giddy thrill of the wind whipping inside your ears.

He tastes of Morello cherries, sweet and tart with a slight hint of tobacco and caustic rum. You can taste the coolness on his tongue from the ashen amber whiskey and how it leaves that heady alkaline on your taste buds that flirts with you to be dizzy with him, getting punch drunk off of him.

He wears a cologne of a perfectly balanced scale of handmade magnolia soap and musky sweat. He smells of the winter; the crystal dew in cobwebs frozen over in the bushes and the harsh nip of the cold. Creased leather and boot polish. Wooden splinters and sawdust.

He smells of heartbreak, but he’s yet to tell.

From the hint of his fingers getting too close to the mound of your ass, and his other hand stroking behind your neck now, you’ve known men like him before. They’ve left their imprint on your skin, the scars across your heart, but he’s not a bad egg bred from the same batch.

No, he’s more like a lovable rogue; a cheeky scamp once upon a time, but one now that protects your pumping organ rather than stomps all over it making it bleed and pop under his heavy boot.

He’ll tell you stories one day soon about his Southern charm. You don’t know anything about him, not really, but you’re certain you know this about him - even if he’s no good, even if he's done bad things in the name of survival, he tries his best to be good, decent.

And a man that tries, is a man that wins.

Joel wraps you into his arms furthermore; arms that are abnormally thick and enveloping. A strong cocoon to protect you, to hold you tight when the going gets tough; home is in his arms.

He’s so tall; unequivocally unwavering and statuesque as you take him all in.

Quiet and seemingly shy, he stumbles around his words when put on the spot and likes to fill the gap with uhms and aahs through gruff mumbles.

But he was the rowdy one amongst friends decades ago, and those who knew what really went on under that lurching frame. His height makes him stand out, a lonesome, snow-capped head streaked in silver, but he doesn’t want to stand out for all the wrong reasons.

He’s self-assured and a wallflower all rolled into one; a bundle of shitty self-loathing, an aggressive drunk at times, and yet he loves hard like a soldier shot in battle; he’ll push on through the pain.

The things that turn you on and leave you panting into his mouth for more as you buck and contort with him pushed deep inside you.

He’s a grump, an asshole at times and doesn’t indulge in a fight for fight’s sake. But will if he needs to.

But all these things about Joel will be learned and witnessed in time, the same as he'll be educated about you and all your foibles and quirks. The things that make you tick.

Joel Miller feels like a corona, scorching and blazing into you; a man who is a man and a boy all rolled into one handsome face, aged through years of toilsome survival.

A man that could take you down a dark alley and fuck you up against the mottled brickwork as it grazes against your skin, and equally lay with you in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, spending hours with his face nestled between your legs drawing your pleasures out of you into his eager, skilled mouth.

Joel Miller is both a lover and a fighter, and exudes intense passionate in both.

He’s an enigma shrouded in further mystery, he’s a cheap, paperback book with no pictures; a crumpled IKEA instruction guide in gobbledygook, but you understand him nonetheless.

His kiss reveals all his secrets, and yet gives nothing away in equal measure.

A vector of himself; cocoa powder eyes that tell a thousand truths and a thousand lies, and you’d be none the wiser about any of them.

But this, his kiss, tells you all you need to know for now.

Nothing else right now matters as you live in the present with him, not the past, nor the future. Just in the here and now, between his lips.

It’s a kiss that blooms, a kiss that ignites and starts something between the both of you; something that neither of you know where it will ultimately lead to, but you’re both eager enough to cling on for the ride.

Joel draws back and you can see his eyes; the inviting, deep browns and you’re swimming in them. In the centre they seem a little hazel, maybe a possible fleck of gold here or there under the Christmas lights.

He blinks with dark, fluttery eyelashes, smiles with feminine, plumpy heart-shaped lips and blushes a little around the apples of his cheeks mottled with pores, as his arms stroke up and down the sides of yours.

His cheekbones are dusted with a fluffy scruff, greying in its patchiness. A rugged moustache sits atop his lip and you can still taste it on your lips, feel the tickle from the tingles and the soft scratch that silk caterpillar leaves.

You remember his voice, remember how he sounded as he caught your attention and offered you a drink before the night got underway. That gravelly tincture bouncing in the undertones of his Texan accent; he sounds acutely Americanised, those Southern pebbles roll around his mouth on certain vowels, there’s no mistaking them and their wonder as they spill out like liquid gold at your feet.

Even his voice renders you to your knees in subjugation of him, your pussy waving a white flag utterly enthralled.

Who is this man? Who is he, really?

What are the things that he finds the most funny, and what makes him so fucking mad that he’d punch his large fist through a wall?

What are the things you could do to him that would make those entrancing eyes roll into the back of his head in abject pleasure?

Your mind swims with the possibilities of grilling him about that over decades old whiskey and late night cuddles on the beaten couch, before you get the chance to see those peepers indeed roll into the back of his skull as though being possessed by an other-worldly entity.

But this is just the beginning.

This is just the first step into a maze of uncharted exploration. There are mountains to scale, valleys to peak, and ledges to stand on precariously as you both contemplate the consequences of jumping off together or singularly.

Would he catch you, or let you fall to your death and stare down at your dead body with indifference as you bleed out?

Is he the villain or the hero - or both?

His rough, warm fingers thread into yours; an unconscious action that his brain has no say over. You feel them tangle inside your own as you glance down at them, weaving and stroking with a satisfied awe.

They’re obscenely thick like the rest of him, and yet strangely delicate as they loop and lace with your own, thumbs stroking over knuckle hilts.

Would you fall in love with him, or would he simply take you home and fuck you senseless and leave in the morning without a word?

And there doesn’t need to be a viable reason for that, does there? You don’t need to psychoanalyse and connect the dots.

But that’s the most wonderful, yet incredibly agonising, thing about a first kiss with someone; someone new.

It invokes all these thoughts, questions, could-be scenarios, when in reality you should just close those yammering thoughts off and just enjoy being on the receiving end of someone’s affection, because they want to share this moment of intimacy with you and no-one else.

Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s feeling and emotion, maybe it’s brazen lust disguised as love at first sight. Maybe it’s-

You’re attracted to each other through chemistry and pheromones. He has a pretty face that you want to sit on; you have a great ass he’d like to fuck one day.

Maybe it’s just that, cold, sterile science?

Maybe it doesn’t fucking matter.

Joel presses his lips onto yours once more, this time the kiss morphs into something else; something else unrestrained and jerking against the leash to get free.

You feel it travel all over your skin, across the fine hairs on your arms, down the nodules of your spine; between your legs as it throbs heavily.

You nip back on his bottom lip, tasting him all over again; your hands working up his broad back, your chest crushed painfully tight against his own. He’s tall, so tall you still have to tiptoe, but you don't care.

It’s all nonsensical and fades away once more as you lose yourself into him again.

You break the kiss to breathe and take a beat to take one another in. Faces nuzzling with stolen breaths, clamouring heartbeats. With your foreheads pressed so close together, you both resemble Cyclops with only one eye to the other.

He smiles at you contentedly, his scuffed face relaxed and unreadable at the same time. And it’s utterly euphoric to inhale him in, to touch him and hold him in your hands, finally.

“Merry Christmas, Joel,” you say in a voice that is still lost somewhere inside his throat.

Your legs are like jelly; weak and wobbly as you try not to pass out in his strong arms holding you upright against the weighted shield of his body.

Joel smirks, revealing a dimple you’ve never seen until now, and his eyes flick up to the bud of mistletoe hanging over your heads and smiles.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.” Joel replies in a deep, haunting drawl.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fic #christmas stories #jett's writing

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creedslove · 11 months

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CHOCOLATE CAKE BLISS 🎂

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel loves your chocolate cake and while he's stealing one slice of it you two end up having a conversation about that future that makes him insecure, so you gotta show him you mean it when you say you love him

(this can be read as a continuation of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧, MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙, BABY BLISS 🍼 PART ONE and BABY BLISS 🍼 PART TWO, or it can be read as a one shot, it's up to you)

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of pregnancy but no pregnancy at all, smut (oral m! receiving), age gap, insecure!joel, out of character!joel, cute!joel because he loves chocolate cake

1.8k words

Joel grumbled when he went back to consciousness and didn't feel you next to him. He could still feel your side of the bed warm and your scent lingering in your pillow, but you weren't lying there.

He looked around and rubbed his tired eyes. He didn't remember how long he'd slept, but it felt like a lot, as for once his body was completely relaxed and there was no tension in his muscles. He smiled at himself as soon as he remembered the night before, how you'd told him you loved him and how after gathering courage he told you the same.

You had exchanged love words while he was inside of you, as his hot load was hitting your womb and you couldn't be more connected than that at that moment.

It was official, you were each other's and no one could change that.

And he also remembered what he thought when he was inside of you.

He still didn't know what was up with him, sometimes he did want to have a baby with you, he wanted to get you pregnant, he wanted to see you glowing with a beautiful round belly, he wanted to be up at night helping you with your baby, he wanted to sit down silently and watch you breastfeed your baby, hold the baby's tiny little hand and feel the tight grip around his finger, little eyes searching for Joel's, so the baby would know mama and dada were there.

And then he fell back into his senses and remembered how insane all of that was.

He was old. He wasn't just older than you, he was old.

He didn't have energy to run after a kid, he was tired, his body ached and his back killed him at least once a day. There was no way he could leave you with the responsibility of taking care of a child. Even if you weren't living a literal apocalypse, it wasn't a great idea at all. And he couldn't force you to go through a pregnancy without adequate medical care, what if you had poor health? What if something went wrong in labor? No, he couldn't afford that.

He got up and widened his eyes at the delicious smell.

Chocolate cake.

Joel didn't even remember how long it had been since the last time he had a slice of it. But even if it'd been ages, he wouldn't forget that smell and he could already taste it.

He ran downstairs, suddenly feeling excited about the perspective of eating a slice of it and couldn't stop thinking it was damn pathetic a guy his age being so happy at something simple as that, but you couldn't disagree more, he was so boyish, so adorable when he wrapped his arms around your waist and tried stealing a slice of it.

You laughed at yourself. Joel Miller was acting adorable.

You snapped his hand away for the third time and frowned "Joel!!! This is for the kids, I already told you!" You said and saw him chuckling

"you are going to volunteer at the daycare, there's babies there. Babies don't eat chocolate cake" he rolled his eyes.

You turned around and faced him

"There are toddlers there, don't play dumb with me, you know that. And if you out of all the people in the world love chocolate cake, what makes you think the toddlers won't?" You chuckled and pecked his lips

"Alright, one last slice and I promise tonight I'll bake one just for you" you whispered against his ear and pecked his neck gently.

He groaned and gripped your waist, you shouldn't be teasing him like that, you were a real bad girl for that.

He crashed his lips against you, needing you to feel how much power you had over him, but you broke the kiss and stroked his cheek gently, smiling at him.

"Can I tell you a secret?" You blushed and saw when Joel frowned softly, he nodded, curious to know what you hadn't told him.

His heart raced with anxiety, what if you were gonna tell him you met someone nicer? Maybe a younger guy who made the butterflies in your stomach fly like crazy.

No. He quickly dismissed the idea, why would you be offering yourself to bake him cakes like a good housewife and spreading kisses all over your neck if you wanted to be with someone else? Fuck, get it together, man. He thought to himself.

"It's just that… at the daycare there's a baby, a real cute one and he's got the sweetest brown eyes and curly hair and Maria and I joke he's your son…" you giggled "and I like taking care of him and pretending he is your son, it's fun" you bit your lips not sure how he would react.

Joel gasped and looked into your eyes.

"Do you wanna have a baby?" He couldn't hold back his tongue, god, he cursed himself for being pathetic, but he needed to know.

"No… I mean, I don't know… I never really thought of having babies before, I just thought it was a cute scenario because the little boy kinda looks like you" you explained and saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes?

"Why? Do you wanna have a baby Joel?"

He shook his head and looked down, scratching down the back of his neck feeling once again embarrassed about having that conversation.

"I don't… I mean, sometimes I do, but it's a crazy idea, isn't it? Bringing a baby into the picture is fucked up… I don't know, I guess I went soft because of you and now we're together it makes me wonder what things would be like if we were in a normal world, if I hadn't lost everything…" he swallowed hard "I just feel guilty because you are so beautiful, so young and you should be able to get married and have a family, you know… with someone suitable for you, someone appropriate"

You shook your head and held his face between your hands.

"You are this person, Joel. You are the most suitable and appropriate person to me, you are the only man I would ever consider marrying, and you are the only one that could get me pregnant. As much as it is crazy to bring a baby into this world, I would do it with you and no else… why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?" You tilted his head and watched him look down.

"I don't know" he shrugged and didn't stare at you again.

You took a deep breath and pulled his head gently, kissing him.

"It's not our fault if we fell for each other. I know there's a lifetime that separates us, but I love you even if you're older and I know for a fact that you love me even if I'm younger, Mr.Miller" you smiled "I think we're being carried away with this whole baby thing, I think it would only make us feel pressured, but if it ever happened, I'd be happy" you told him and saw how Joel only nodded and pecked your lips before leaving for work.

You spent the whole afternoon thinking of your interaction with him, it baffled you how insecure he was. Whenever you thought you'd advanced one step with Joel it also felt you took one step back. You didn't care if he was older, you loved him and you didn't want to be happy with someone else. You were already happy with Joel, even if he was a dumb, stubborn cunt once in a while.

When you got home, you knew there were still a couple of hours for his shift to be over, so you prepared the batter for the cake you'd promised him, as you thought of a way to show him your love, your passion for him.

After you put the cake in the oven, you got rid of your clothes and stood only in your panties in front of the mirror, you wanted to show Joel love the best language he could speak.

When he stepped inside the first thing he noticed was the smell, you had actually made him the cake like you promised and he smiled softly. He shouldn't have been so coward towards you earlier that day, he shouldn't have showed you how weak he was, but at the same time you were the only person he could actually do that. He didn't have anything to hide from you, and he hoped you were the same for him.

"Y/N?" He called your name wanting to see where you were, but was caught off guard by your half naked presence.

You walked towards him in nothing but your thongs, he saw how your breasts moved freely as you walked, your nipples already hard at the chilly air. You couldn't help but smile at his surprised face, hugged him and kissed his neck, deeper this time, adding a small love bite to it and earning a groan from your man.

"Darling, I-" you cut him off when you unbuckled his belt

"I wanna get on my knees for you Joel" that was the only thing you said, because at that moment you wanted to be submissive, you wanted to exist only for him, for his pleasure.

So you did as you said and faced his crotch. With delicate hands you unzipped his jeans and pulled them down just enough to free his cock.

You loved how his size matched his entire body, being thick and long, your cunt always clenched at the sight of it.

You gave his tip a small cat lick, tasting his leaking pre cum at the same time your hand massaged his heavy balls.

Joel had barely been touched and he was already groaning in pleasure.

You wrapped your lips around his tip suckling on it at the same time you stroked his base.

Joel's hand gripped your hair tight, pulling your face closer wanting more of you. You were driving him insane as you were touching him but not enough for him to cum yet. You took a deep breath and relaxed your throat, giving him a small nod to show him you were ready for him to face fuck you.

And then Joel bucked his hips, fucking your mouth, loving how you took all of him until he came for you, and you swallowed every single drop of it.

He panted and helped you up, holding you tighter against his chest.

Joel sat on the couch, not bothering pulling his pants up but seeing you shivered lightly so he took off his jacket and placed it on you.

You kissed him, smiling as he looked at you with surprise and admiration, you curled up to him, never wanting to be apart from your man, you loved him with all of your heart and you'd prove it to him whenever he needed some reassurance.

_____

A/N: idk i love joel and I'm horny

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #tlou show #tlou fanfiction

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artbyblastweave · 11 months

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So the retro-futurism faux-50s aesthetic of fallout is baked in even to the very early games, it’s the first thing you see in fallout 1, the dissonant cheer of that newsreel where the American soldiers are executing civilians in annexed Canada. The whole intro of fallout 2. From day one it’s a quasi-period piece for the eternal 50s. But on many levels the first two games are also aesthetically a very very 90s look at the post apocalypse. There’s a near-liefeldian bent to the sprites and armors and weaponry. The super mutants are a very 90s comic-book way to design a human mutant. A lot of stuff like that. It sort of unintentionally became a nested period piece, the 50s through the eyes of the 90s. So part of me is wondering, first, about a contemporary fallout game that tried to double dip both eras; a fallout game about how people in the 90s were thinking about the 50s. And part of me is wondering what elements of contemporary aesthetics have been fused into the current games that I don’t have the objectivity or distance to notice yet. Part of my thesis going into this post is that it’s at least partly technical, and the contemporary games actually have enough LOD to play up the 50s look in the environment in a way the older games were somewhat hard pressed to; you can go giga-fifties when you can model the individual nuts and bolts on a protectron, for example. But the more I think about it the greater the odds that there’s gonna be some really obvious hallmark of 2000s and 2010s aesthetic sensibilities baked into the designs of 3 onwards that people in the 2040s are going to be picking apart. The green filter, for example.

#fallout #fallout new Vegas #fallout 2 #fallout 1 #meta #thoughts #fallout 4 #fallout 76

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4w25-cc · 5 months

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Perfect Perimeter Furniture Set

Available on Patreon and CurseForge.

Started working on this set on November 24 and finished just now. The shadows I mentioned in the previous post turned out nice. I delivered.

I love low-poly modeling. Simulating and sculpting surely are awesome, but low-poly also covers my obsession with numbers. I can calculate exact coordinates for each face, and the only thing standing between me and perfection is -0.0000005 in the Transform field when something is moved to global 0. Man…

I meshed this cute set and adjusted it to the game's sizes. Tried something new with texture baking, approved the result. Visited Sims 4 Studio forum to read random tutorials and got a huge déjà vu feeling from witnessing someone trying to delete shadow groups. Does anybody still remember the apocalypse of glitching accessories in The Sims 2 caused by creators deleting lens group from cloned glasses instead of hiding it? Different year, same kind of tinkering. It was the first thing my best friend reminded me about when I was making my first ever ice cream earrings back in 2014, 9 years ago. They are lost and gone, just like my old content for The Sims 4, though. Speaking of it, I think a random person on the internet might have more of my files saved than I do.

The prices for these items are higher than usual because I added positive environment scores to all of them, which base game objects mostly don't have. This logic is a bit weird to me. You're buying an expensive piece of furniture, and it doesn't contribute to your mood? Guess I'll fix this for myself. The numbers are realistic, so you can still use this set in legacy challenges. You're paying extra for less comfort and more happiness, just like in real life.

I cloned objects with preferred tunings and removed occluders from them after reading about how problematic they are. All the items got their footprint and fading distance adjusted. I figured out logic for perfectly calculated slots, and I'm quite satisfied with it. The shelf is a functioning bookshelf with a bunch of slots.

Other than living room furniture, I want to create dining, kitchen, and bathroom sets. I do have pictures in my head already (I don't use references), so I just need to sit down and mesh them. Let's hope real life won't turn into yet another hell ride right after I post this. Actually, the ride never ended, I just got a grip.

There are the swatches and a detailed spreadsheet you can refer to to see what has been changed in the packages. My spreadsheet addiction from Genshin Impact kicked in at some point…

PATREON | INSTAGRAM | PINTEREST | DISCORD | CURSEFORGE

#sims4 #ts4 #s4 #sims4cc #ts4cc #s4cc

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dev1lm4n · 1 year

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4 + 1

pairings: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader

summary: the apocalypse didn't happen. joel shift jobs into becoming a bodyguard for a billionaire’s wife. four times joel realized he's in love and the one time he actually did something about it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: explicit (18+), p in v, no protection, infidelity, implied domestic abuse (not by joel)

notes: this is my fav to write by far ♡ if ur a writer or loves reading, chat me up and let's be moots

Clementine hues of orange sauntered in through the slick frame of her kitchen windows, causing a layer of tinted filtering to be added throughout the boring beige paints littered all around. Everything was in honeyed tones, beautiful and soothing. He had to admit that there was something godly about your kitchen. Something he couldn’t resist.

It was much different compared to the heavy smell of paint and cement he’s smothered in back when he’s still dwelling in construction. Instead of the constant buzz of drilling and swings of hammers into wooden panels, he’s now embraced in an endless collection of Jazz. His shoes are now polished— he could even see his own beaming reflection in the shiny black. A fitted tuxedo snug against the broad of his chest— a total 180° change from his Texan classic style of flannels and denims.

Joel used to think that he’s all too ill-mannered to be participating in the posh bullshit rich families are prone to, but when he saw the ads your husband was posting out, he couldn’t possibly decline the offer. The pay was enough to get Sarah all the way through university without picking up loans and it came with barely a risk.

He was just there to follow a billionaire’s pretty little wife around, carry your bags of impulsive purchases, and drop you off to go drink martinis with your girlfriends. The gun tucked into his back pocket was merely for show. After all, his dirty scowl is usually enough to set people aside. So, he signed the contract and was tied to what he envisioned to be a snobby flashy gal.

But you were an anomaly.

You were the opposite of the few descriptive words your husband mapped you out as, which he recalled to be ‘bimbo’ and ‘a pain in the ass’. You were lovely. The kind of girl that’d bake your husband a sweet tray of apple pie in your cute little dotted blue apron. He was guilty of watching your every move. Every bend, perk, curve of your body. Because, duh, he had to make sure you weren’t harming yourself. What if you accidentally set a fire off in the stove? At least, that’s what he’s telling himself to fend upon his guilt.

“Come on. Open your mouth, Joel!” you cheered excitedly at the sight of your glistening apple pie, cut open into perfectly eight slices. As the fork pierced through the warm, flaky crust of the apple pie, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and baked apples filled the air. The crust crumbled ever so slightly as the fork lifted a generous slice, revealing the warm, gooey filling. A persuasive look keen on your face as you raised your fork forward, just a few inches away from his pursed lips.

“I don’t think I should, ma’am.”

“Why not?”

“Your husband’s coming home soon..” he trailed off, uneasy about the increasingly delicate situation.

“So? Married people can’t have friends now?”

You could closely watch his determination waver, because god did your apple pie look good even from a distance. But he shouldn’t be doing this on the job, right? Playing kitchen with you out of all people.

“We’re not friends.”

“Oh, we’re not?”

“No,” he shook his head.

Only to entertain you and play into your own rhythm of things, Joel sank his teeth into the tender apples and buttery crust, sweet flavors exploded on his tongue. The warm, rich filling oozed out of the pie and coated his palate in a heavenly blend of spices and sweetness. What made it better was the shy smile you had on your face, unmarred by what the world had to offer. Your eyes twinkle fondly, sparking what felt like fireworks in his belly.

“Good?”

He simply nodded. Joel chewed slowly, averting his gaze away from you because who knows what he might start to imagine if he’s constantly being presented that view of you.

“Mr. Waterford’s gonna like it,” he reassured.

“Wait. Joel. What does that spell out?”

You enquired, brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of the word he’d just put together on the tiled board. Your lips pursed and you tilted your head slightly to the side, as if trying to get a different perspective. It seemed that your feigned innocence managed to work wonders in your bodyguard’s head, because his brows knitted along with yours, seemingly worried that he might actually get the word incorrectly. It may have been the nth time that you toyed around with him childishly, but it’s not your fault he always had such a silly expression to share each time.

“Darling,” he read the word aloud innocently. Texas twang dripping from every syllable.

“Yes, honey?”

Joel looked away bashfully at your playful banter. You could tell he’s raking his head to find ways to try and guide the conversation back into a safe spot. To maintain professionalism, where his heart doesn’t have to race a million times per second and his palms doesn’t have to turn all clammy from a childish joke. But he’s failing. Miserably at that. He tried to muster up the courage to respond in kind, but his mind went blank, leaving him tongue-tied.

“I’m just joking. You’re not mad, are you?”

Of course, he’s not mad. He could never be angry at you even if you sometimes do the weirdest things he could ever think of, like that one time last week where you decided you should try out every single barbeque sauce available in the supermarket. You’re just too sweet to be angry at. Snow could melt if you were there beaming that same dear smile of yours, miracles could happen if it was you. Joel thought that this was his punishment. A karma for all the terrible things he did throughout his twenties, the girls he fiddled and the money he possibly swindled. It’s hard to watch you and not be able to put his hands on you. It’s unfair.

“No,” he whispered vaguely as he drew more tiles from the messy pile. Joel looked amazingly dedicated for a bodyguard who’s being forced to play Scrabble with his employer’s wife— you found it hilarious, which resulted in the delicate giggle you uttered.

“Why don’t you hang out with your actual friends, Mrs. Waterford?”

You frowned.

“First of all, never call me by his name. Second, why do you care so much about who I hang out with?” you seethed out petulantly.

Even when you’re throwing a silly tantrum, he still looked at you as if you held out the sun and the moon. As if you’re the beginning and the end, but you weren’t going to assume what might just be a figment to your foolish imaginations.

“Sorry. I just.. I don’t have to play the dutiful, elegant wife when I’m here. I don’t have to pretend like I enjoy tea times and chalky macarons.”

You hate playing dress up when you’re just there to be your husband’s little pet. Ready to serve him at your every move. It’s suffocating to pretend like you’re content with how your life turned out to be, to giggle at condescending jokes other wives make, or to let your husband degrade you in front of other members of the high society. You felt like a mannequin and you’d rather be here, comforted in your own qualms with Joel. Simple ol’ Joel from Texas who took such good care of you.

“I can’t say I understand.”

Joel chuckled, thinking back to his rather ordinary background. He didn’t think he ever had to participate in any social events unwillingly, except when his mom dragged him to church on Sundays when he was younger, but that was different. You were in another realm. Someone who’s not equal to him.

“Although, I’m glad you feel at ease with me.”

He’s so good with his words, you sometimes wonder if those sweet compliments actually meant a thing. You simmered at his encouragement.

Tonight marks the evening of the Annual Spring Ball. Joel, being the country boy that he is, didn’t have much clue regarding what significance this particular event held. Although, he guessed that it was a big thing considering the pile of dresses you’ve dumped carelessly in front of your walk-in closet. You’re always so messy. Maybe he liked that about you.

He stood aimlessly, feeling like a nervous boy waiting for his prom partner to reveal themselves. It crept from inside his stomach and the grip it had on his throat grew tighter and tighter the longer you took in that damned dressing room. You’re not even going with him to this presumptuous event. You’re going with your damn husband, so why is he getting ahead of himself?

“What do ya think?”

You came bursting out of the pale blue curtains like a ray of sunshine, cladded with a long fitted evening gown. He was convinced that black belonged to you. The gown was made of flowing, luxurious fabric that draped elegantly down the womanly curves of your hips.

He couldn’t help but take a peek down your classic plunging neckline, like a fucking pervert. A flattering scoop that showed off your delicate collarbone and décolletage. Viewing a glimpse of your soft mounds propped up by the tailored bodice had him shifting from one leg to the other. God, you looked like a goddess blessed you personally. Waterford is a lucky man having you by his side.

“Is it too much?”

“No. It’s just..”

Joel swallowed thickly. How he wished he could say how you’d stolen his heart and robbed him of common sense.

“You look beautiful. Mr. Waterford would’ve-”

“Can we not speak of my husband?”

You interrupted bitterly. He wasn’t sure if he saw it correctly, but he could see a look of solemn ghosting over your sweet features. How you suddenly stop being all chirpy and instead, settle on chewing your inner lip. Joel was worried and it took all of him not to prod into whatever it is you’re hiding behind all the kind and warm facade. He was simply your bodyguard and that’s all he’ll ever be so why impose?

“Will you help me with my pearls?”

“Of course.”

He swiftly walked over to the jewelry case he’s grown accustomed to, not because he ever had thoughts of stealing your precious belongings, more so because you’ve allowed him to enter and assist you in your bedroom way too often. He’s memorized every inch of the blush tinted room without fail, maybe because he was a good help or maybe.. because he’s undeniably infatuated in you. With much precision, he held the shiny pearls in between his rough fingers. Only to gently clasp the chain around your neck. The ghost of his fingers on your bare skin made you shudder in anticipation.

He might’ve overstepped his boundaries by tracing over the exposed skin of your back, feeling the bumps of your spinal cords as if he’s a professional harpist. His gaze settled on where you felt the most plush and smooth. How he wished he could feel more of you; was the rest of your unexposed skin this delicate? Did you like this?

A pregnant silence enveloped the both of you. A mutual understanding. You were nervous, enough that you could listen to how your heart pumped blood into your increasingly warm cheeks.

“What is this?”

He broke the sacred silence at the irregular hues blooming from beneath the velvet fabric. Blues, purples, some were still inflamed, red marring your sacred skin. You were bruised. Bad. His eyes went wide at the sight of permanent scars shaped like a long rod buried deep in your skin, the new skin much lighter than your skin tone. If he weren’t attentive, he would’ve missed the way it hid underneath the hemlines.

The worst part was you didn’t say anything. Just showcasing him the same ol’ smile as you turned.

Ever since he saw your marks, the ones you’ve tried your very best to cover and withheld from the world, you’ve avoided him more than ever. Joel Miller was specifically assigned to you. To cater to your every need and protect you from the danger you might encounter, but it’s hard to do his job properly when the danger was from within.

He’s seen the way you lock your doors in his presence, leaving him uneasy as he guarded in front of your door. He’s also noticed how you stopped baking sweet apple pies, quit picking the juicy strawberries in your garden, and were lost in your own thoughts more often than anything. Maybe you’ve had enough of playing house with the lousy bodyguard he was. Maybe he was too old, too wrinkly, and too nosy for your taste.

“Joel?”

“Yes,” he answered almost too eagerly at the pleasant call of his name. His puppy-like brown eyes peaked through the small crack of your door.

“Come in. I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise for him? Didn’t you hate him? Joel looked almost entranced at the sudden knowledge. He took a determined step into your room, your wooden door creaking close behind him. You narrowed your eyes to strengthen your vision towards his striking figure. Without shame, you took in all of him. You’ve missed him as much as you hated to admit. Joel was a crucial part to your daily life. He’s a breath of fresh air. The only thing keeping you alive when you’re caged in this mansion.

“Winter’s coming.”

“It is,” he spoke softly, out-of-breath at the sight of you in your nightgown. His pupils dilated erratically at what you’ve blessed him with.

“I knitted you and Sarah matching scarfs.”

You pulled out the most beautiful pair of scarfs out of your side table, decorated with your favorite shades of ballet pink and powder blue. It wasn’t the cleanest work out there. A few loose and uneven threads here and there, but it was the most someone has ever done to him in a very long time.

It felt sincere and heartfelt. You even knitted one for his daughter who he’d only mention briefly during your time together. Once during your weekly Scrabble game and the other time when he entertained you during a house party. He smoothed the thick fabric down, tears pricking his eyes from the emotions budding from within.

“Are you seriously crying?”

You chuckled at the sight, arms crossed in front of your chest at the sight of your tough and grouchy bodyguard tearing up over some scarf. Joel meant more to you than you could ever admit. Maybe this’ll show him that part of you, just enough that your husband would never notice and you could still play it off as an act of kindness.

“That’s so lame, Joel.”

Fact is.. you were magnetic. The sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed in his long thirty six years of life, yet you’re stuck here playing wife of Waterford. Joel wanted to be your knight in shining armor and bring you to safety where he’d cherish you all his life, but what could he do? Should he just witness you wither away into an empty shell? The thought brought up the long awaited bravado and he was already bringing you up into his arms. Wrapping you in a tight embrace where all he could feel was you and only you. The softness of your pliant body, the smell of strawberries and cinnamon, and your undeniable warmth.

“You’re not happy,” he muttered underneath his breath, brows knitted and wrinkles evident.

“I will be.”

You paused.

“I have to be.”

You reassured him, pulling away from his grasp slightly. Your longing eyes bored into him with a tinge of emotion he couldn’t quite decipher, but it all became clear when you finally kissed him. You tasted better than he could ever imagine.

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

His voice was tantalizing, the rough bristles of his scruff tickling the curve of your earlobes in a manner that made you feel small. You couldn’t really pipe up a sweet comeback to what he had to say. Not when you’re pinned face down onto your fresh floral sheets, the same one you’ve spent countless nights with your estranged husband.

The crisp fabric felt cool and smooth on your squished cheek, you could even smell the lingering notes of softener wafted through the air. Joel caged you in like some sort of feral animal. Thick muscular thighs pressing next to your own as he loomed over you.

“You’re driving me insane, darlin’. Bending over with that silly knitted dress of yours.”

He murmured out into the junction of your neck. Always so careful with you, he made sure to smooth down every inch of your pristine skin, over each and every one of your scars and marks. His fingers were electric, jolting you every time he made bare contact.

You whined a soft tone when he pulled the wool hem of your dress upwards. Leaving your perky butt exposed to the cold air with nothing on but the panties you’ve chosen specifically for him. The one with the pretty pink bow and lace rimming each side; the one you knew he’s secretly pocketed a few times.

“Fuck. Such a pretty cunt. Is this for me or for Waterford?”

You were just too good to be true. Someone so perfect like you was willing to let him have a taste of what heaven on earth was, even when your husband was downstairs mingling with the other party guests. Joel was ecstatic at the thought. His eyes twinkled with obsession as he pulled your panties aside, probing a finger into your sloppy hole. One of his fingers was swallowed whole by your throbbing cunt and all he could hear was the loud squelching noise it made. It was as if you hadn’t been filled to the brim for a very long time. What a waste.

“For you. Only for you, Joel.”

Joel couldn’t hide the smugness running deep in his expression, pulling onto each corner his mustache. The constant need to prove himself to you tipped him over the edge. He wanted to be gentle with you, to be kind and cautious, because you were his everything, but it’s harder when he’s already leaking in his boxers. Seven inch, uncut, and sensitive. His fat cock thrived at the thought of you aching beneath him.

“He didn’t fuck you well, did he? Left you all wet for me.”

He teased sweetly as he unzipped his pants eagerly, only to tug at his waistband swiftly. Joel felt the adrenaline rushing through his headspace. It might be fucked up but somehow he wanted to prove how good he is for you, how he’d let your husband barge in if it meant proving how you’re such a good fit for his girth.

At the thought, Joel leaned forward to nip at your pulse point. You whined for more. He cooed softly, making sure you were slick enough as he flicked his cock along your needy slit. His thick raspy groans were heavenly, yet sinful for you to hear. You’re married for goodness sake.

“Put it in me, Joel. Fuck me. Please. Now.”

Your incoherent begging was music to his ears, enough that he gave in to your requests. He prodded his leaking tip into your entrance. Joel was unable to hide his pleasure, lashes fluttering as he rolled his hips in one sharp movement. He had to stop immediately once he’s buried deep in your velvety walls. Knowing he’d burst if he was to continue. He let out a breathy chuckle, grounding himself with all his might.

“Joe-el!”

That’s all you could muster as you pushed your hips further back into his, babbling hopeless pleads in hopes that he’d move and solve the everlasting coiling need. Such a slut.

“I got you, darlin’”

He held you steady by the small of your hips, adding ample pressure to have you arching back nicely. Joel fulfilled his promise by sheathing himself entirely within you. Slick and sloppy, he pounded into you. You’re on cloud nine. Desperately muffling his name into your bed sheets as if it’d make a difference in the boundaries you’ve crossed on this eventful day.

The golden ring band encircling your finger taunted you whilst it glimmered underneath the dim lights: all about your failing marriage and your stupid affair. You knew this wasn’t going to last long. Hell, things could fall apart if your husband caught a whiff of Joel’s cedar cologne on you.

“Stay with me, please, darlin’”

Joel looped his tough arms over your chest, effectively straightening you upright against his firm chest. His tip probed deeper inside you at the new position, exploring places you didn’t think was possible. You couldn’t see him and you thought it might be better. For you didn’t have to remember how unbelievably hot he looked while fucking you from behind; you’d worry his name would slip in your head when Waterford finally required you to cater to his needs.

“Run away with me.”

He tried once more and you had to say, it was quite a romantic gesture to attempt when he’s twitching vulgarly inside you. There was a sense of need in his voice. He’s begging you to leave all this luxury and royalty behind for the love he had to offer. What was it.. modern times Romeo & Juliet? You let out an airy moan in response, backing up even further to fulfill your burning desire. The coily dark trim on the base of his slick cock scraped your soft skin. He’s inside you entirely. Without any barrier because god did he secretly want to pump you full of cum. Maybe he'll let you wander back onto your husband's arms with his cum still stuffed deep within you.

“I can’t.”

You shook your head, a soft gasp slipping past your lips as his grip tightened around your wrist. His nails dug out crescent shape marks into your skin uncomfortably.

“Joel. Shit. Don’t move.”

He obeyed. A small grin taking over when he witnessed the shake of your legs and how you looked heavenly even when you’re seconds away from climaxing. He relished in the way your tongue cutely darted out like a dog in heat. You’re still cute even when you’re all spread out for him.

“I love you.”

He whispered once more, voice fleeting against your ear. Joel needed to kiss you. Needed to feel your soft lips on him for what might be the last time. His nimble fingers gently guide your jaw to turn his way, wrapping you in such an emotional kiss. As if you’d wither away if he didn’t hold you down tight enough.

“Please say it back, darlin’. Please?”

And just like that, he submitted to your wishes and let the mighty dam fall apart. A soft groan you’ve never heard before mused out his parted lips. He’s filling you up so full with a taste of him to the point that it’s leaking out each side of your thighs. A white rim left behind. Tonight he thought that maybe white belonged to you as well, just like black did.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine #joel miller smut

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lillysbigwilly · 1 year

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i fcking love streamer!ellie but what if reader was the streamer?! imagine ellie being a huge fan and always leaving comments during her stream. she's also internally freaking out when she meets the reader in person and experiencing gay panic, at the same time, because "holy sht she is the prettiest person i've ever seen in my entire fcking life."

okay it’s official, anon i absolutely love you, you god 🤍

streamer!reader x Ellie Williams head canons

can i appoint myself the queen of streamer!ellie head canons or is that narcissistic (leave requests my loves)

it would 100% start off with ellie being bored shitless, hopping through tv channels, netflix, youtube etc before finally turning to a streaming sight.

she loves gaming and often finds herself on that platform however she’s never seen you before that day. you were pretty big, rolling in about 50k viewers per stream but you were more of a baking stream, qna stream person rather than gaming

however, your friends had persuaded you to play a story game for that stream. you honestly couldn’t remember the name but it was some sort of zombie apocalypse one

it was fun and ellie actually sat through your whole stream.

after that, she had subscribed (in which you read out her username and she literally almost screamed hearing your pretty voice say her name) and she watched every other stream after that

she favoured the baking ones, seeing you all dressed up with a cute lil apron on over your clothes.

and ellie liked you even more when you made weed brownies live. saying they where ‘funny’ brownies so you didn’t get demonetised

she thought you were absolutely stunning and quickly ranked up to one of your favourite fans with her silly comments and the sweetest complements on each of your streams.

plus she sent you a lot of money.

it was actually after your birthday stream that she met you in real life.

she had been watching for a little over a year and you had gone out with your friends to celebrate your birthday after a short stream

as you were walking down the road to meet said friends , you noticed a pair of eyes on you which wasn’t unusual since you were pretty well known however you recognised her face from somewhere.

ellie’s eyes widened as you walked closer to her. her cheeks flushed red as she subtly looked you up and down. gay mother fucking panic.

now the girl knew she didn’t like men and only liked women but shit did you solidify it. she had been with girls before but you were something else

“i know you” is the first words you said to ellie and her heart just about stopped beating. sure, you acknowledged her online. even becoming mutuals after a comment she left on your post made you laugh but you knowing ellie? impossible “ellie right”

she didn’t trust her voice so she simply nodded. her response made you smile.

you gave her your number, it was dangerous. you didn’t know if she would leak it or whatever but you still did it and it was the best damned decision ever.

you know what they say about lesbians moving quick as fuck. yeah that was true for you and ellie. literally going on a date one week, making it official the next and then she practically moved in after that

neither of you mind, ellie chipped in with food and rent even though you told her you had enough.

(imagine you had ended up with dealer!ellie😳 that itself is a whole other story)

she would start joining your streams, fans would speculate and obviously it was true but they didn’t need to know that just yet.

it was only when you were spotted together holding hands and kissing that i officially came out that you we’re together (celeb tearoom type shit. TMZ drama alert and all that covered it)

you would often try to correlate outfits when you streamed together, if you had pink on then so did she.

there was the usual jealous people that commented against ellie and it did hurt at the beginning. nothing a few words of encouragement and steamy nights with you couldn’t fix.

seriously though, most of your fans adored her. she was quite shy at first and saw how absolutely smitten you were with each other. obsessed with the way you looked at each other when the other looked away

cooking streams that end up being a nightmare. flour and shit everywhere.

speaking of flour. the fans realised you had a special someone in your life when flowers started appearing in the back of your streams. often hung upside down so they last longer.

you eventually get matching tattoos, little hearts on your wrists both with red ink. meaningful but not big. you were both sure you were in it forever but just in case.

(unrelated but imagine ellie with a nose ring)

your fans were nosy sure but they were damn respectful - minus the odd few. if it was obvious you were on a date, all dressed up and i’m a fancy restaurant, they will not interfere which you were super appreciative about

the fans could tell you were in love with each other from day one

#the last of us #fanfic #ellie williams #wlw #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie tlou #headcanon #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x reader #streamer!reader #fan!ellie #gamer!ellie #streamer!ellie

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lyralit · 4 months

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4.1.24 - the importance of learning new things

As much as I think academic & work focus is incredibly important going into the new year, one of my other goals is to practice doing more: to learn all of the things I want to do, in addition to work, in addition to writing. I want to know how to do thousands of little things, and I think the longer we wait, the less likely we are to do them.

Picking up a new hobby doesn't have to be buying a dozen textbooks and spending hundreds of dollars on lessons because you might have the slightest interest: it can be from whatever you have here, now, and you'll never learn if you don't get started.

Some of the things I've been getting into (as I've mentioned before) are baking & crocheting. it just feels so cozy and nice & I love the idea of comfort.

here is a list of things I want to / you should try that's new!

learning a new language. fifteen minutes a day, I kid you not. I'm learning latin on duolingo and I don't ever think about it, but when I do it (25 day streak 💪🏻), I'm starting to notice my improvements

consuming good media. and that's not scrolling for half an hour on tumblr. it's books—deep ones and silly ones and ones about romance and dragons and apocalypses. it's movies! I watched keira knightley's pride and prejudice twice in the last few months, and also three men and a baby which is something I never thought I would watch, but it was quite funny I think. and I learn from it: I cannot write humour or romance for the life of me, so it's basically studying to write (is the self-gaslighting too evident?)

learning to crochet. I made a silly little headband today, after scrolling through pinterest and desperately wanting one. I started crocheting in december to give as gifts (I completed none of my wips, much like when I write) and used the tools I had around me: an old rainbow loom hook and whatever string I could find. now I'm proud to say I can read somewhat fluently crochet acronyms.

baking. I keep saying this. I know. but when I tell you a two years ago I was exploding cupcakes in the oven and last month I made bakery-style cookies...I made bread! a loaf of bread! (in a bread machine, but it's so good and I instantly made another. there is one in the bread machine right now). honestly it just made me feel that much better about improvement, and trying new things, and that is the mindset I want for the new year.

learning to code. in all honesty, I never thought I was a compsci - engineer kind of person. then this year, out of sudden (masterminded) urges, I joined a bunch of tech and robotics initiatives, and maybe it's the sense of community (I can rejoice in finding another nerdy group) but now I am happily chauffeuring myself to these meetings 4h a week. I'm looking into pursuing more into the fields of eng and science. and I'm learning some code from one of the friends I've made!

starting a blog. ...I know most of the people who linger around my blog stay for the writing content (the last posts have turned this writerblr into a digital diary, and I'm only half sorry for that). but since I've joined tumblr (almost three years ago now!) I've got to meet so many wonderful people (including you!) and want to try so many things.

and I get it. it's overwhelming. so here are some starting goals that maybe I'll try also.

start doing art. -> make a card for someone as a gift.

learn a new sport & start exercising. (I'm trying out track & field in the spring, so stay tuned to figure out how that goes) -> see if someone will come play ball with you. do 1 or 2 youtube workout videos a week.

film videos of your daily life. it doesn't need to be for posting! -> edit together clips you've taken for a last year recape.

start a scrapbook. -> print out photos and dig up construction paper. decorate a page.

make a poetry journal. -> go on pinterest to read poetry! pin styles you like and set fifteen minutes to writing.

make a regular journal! -> write once a day. just try: goals for the day in the morning, or a recap at night.

try your hand at gardening. -> research plants that grow well in your region. see if any of the seeds you may have at home are useful. water your lawn. buy a plant and try to keep it alive (set reminders, leave it in front of your sink)

learn to make candles. -> watch a youtube tutorial. see if you can play around with candles you already have.

play chess. -> see if someone will play chess with you. no? chess.com is right there. go make an account. go find a stranger.

learn to play an instrument off youtube. -> maybe you have a piano sitting around, or a guitar you've never touched. you don't even need to master it. pick a song you like and google that. no instrument? maybe there's a way to play drums with home items.

go for a run. -> once a week. a set time. just shoes and the outdoors. too cold? go to a gym and use a treadmill. maybe that's not possible? skip rope.

start / join a book club. -> just you, or some close friends, or people online. a book a month. talk about it.

** on that note, would anyone like to join a tumblr book club? slide into my asks and maybe we can get a blog list!

thank you for reading again <3 until next time.

#lyralit #writerblr #blog post #creative writing #writblr #writing prompts #writing ideas #writers block #writing #writers #mental health #taking breaks

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