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grapementos · 11 months

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walk away as the door slams

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: heavily! toxic relationships, emotionally abusive (gaslighting, etc.), angst.

pt 2 here.

bakugo isn't the same person he was in high school. he grew into a top five hero and opened his own agency, only to be brutally torn apart by the tabloids.

scandal after scandal, you watched him crack. like glass, he grew more and more fragile each time he was made out to be a monster, an asshole, a douchebag--whatever other name was thrown out there.

each time, you were there to comfort him and stand by his side against every rumor and generalization. still, it scared you as you watched his resolve weaken. it was as if he didn't see the point in being a hero anymore.

then came the headline, the article that had him hanging up his gauntlets in exchange for civilian life. the article had an incriminating photo of him holding up his hand to a child. of course, it was taken out of context; bakugo had merely been guiding the child away from the rubble of the building near them.

however, the media ate it up, and bakugo decided that being a hero wasn't worth the false allegations. he announced his resignation the same day and rid the entire house of hero news.

it broke your heart to see him give up his dream, so you'd tried and failed time and time again to talk him out of it. you even invited midoriya and kirishima to persuade him to become a hero again, but his mind was made.

he'd since picked up a new, low-brow job that kept him out of the public eye. with that, unfortunately, came stress regarding bills, grocery shopping, and necessary budget cuts. it was a huge adjustment, one that led to frequent arguments.

you worked from home, so you were able to keep it clean and cook meals for the most part. you tried so hard to keep your home a place where the two of you could coexist happily, but he always came home with an unfulfilled look in his eyes.

truth be told, you were exhausted, but bringing it up just made bakugo frustrated, so you avoided the subject. instead, you'd ask him about work, only to be brushed off.

it hurt.

"katsuki," you called from your spot at the table, finishing up some work, "what do you want to eat tonight?"

"dunno." he grunted, walking out of your shared bedroom.

"right. so helpful." you sighed, looking at your laptop once more, "do you have a general idea? or do you want to cook?"

"i just got home from an 8-hour shift." he looked at you like you were dumb, eyes narrowed, "can you lay off with the million questions?"

"it's a simple question. i need to know if i have to defrost anything." you shut your laptop a little harder than necessary, "i work too, you know."

he laughed bitterly but didn't say anything.

"what?" you demanded, hands on your hips.

"oh, nothing. just thought it was funny, is all."

"what's so damn funny?"

"you, sitting on a laptop all day. 'working'," he used air-quotes, opening the cupboards.

"really? you wanna go there?" you closed the cupboard he was looking in, cheeks flushed with frustration.

he stared at you, jaw clenched, "can you move?"

"can you stop being so damn mean?"

"god, i'm not being mean." he shook his head and opted for digging through the fridge instead, "y'just being too damn sensitive."

you took in a deep breath, red hot anger beginning to boil up in your gut and through your hands all the way down to your fingers.

"stop digging through the fridge when i'm trying to talk to you, please."

he didn't even spare you a glance, pulling out the last cold water bottle.

"katuski." you demanded, louder.

"my god, what?" he slammed the fridge closed, leaning back on the counter, "as if i don't get nagged enough by my boss."

"i'm not nagging you. i'm," you stammered, trying not to escalate the situation into an argument, "i'm trying to see what you want for dinner. that's all."

"just make whatever. i'm not hungry anyways." he tossed the plastic bottle into the trash, plopping down at the table.

you rubbed your temples, trying so hard to maintain your calm, "okay."

the two of you were sat across each other at the kitchen table. you ate something quick you'd whipped up, finally breaking the silence, "they're considering me for a promotion. it's a pretty significant payraise, and i think i--"

"god, are you fuckin' kidding me?" he interrupted, eyes suddenly aflame.

"what?" you cocked your head, confused at his sudden irritation.

"you just love rubbing that shit in my face, huh? you're always talking about how you get paid more than i do, how work is so great, and now this? great job, breadwinner."

"katsuki, we're partners, we both contribute to this household no matter what. i'm not the... breadwinner." you insisted, pain blooming in your chest, "i thought you'd be happy for me."

"like you were so happy for me to quit that hero gig? so you can get all the glory of supporting us?"

"is that really what you think?" you stood, not able to control the flames of anger licking at your chest, "katsuki, you know damn well i gave my all trying to talk you into staying a hero."

"bullshit. you just wanted it to look that way." he stood too, hands planted firmly on the table, "because that's what you do. you pretend you care, and then just soak up all the glory for it."

you clenched your jaw, "not everyone cares for glory as much as you do. i don't know why you think that, but i know you loved being a hero, and i supported that because i love you."

"do you? or did you only get with me to be the partner of a hero?" he spat, eyes narrow and downright venomous, "poor partner of dynamight, they must go through so much to endure his anger issues. poor fuckin' you, right? poor y/n."

your lower lip quivered, the back of your eyes burning, and he laughed. he laughed.

"what? you're gonna cry, really?" he scoffed, shaking his head, "fine, fuckin' cry. that's all you seem to know how to do."

you inhaled sharply through your nose, eyes trained steadily on him, "fuck you." you whispered, hands balled into fists by your side.

"say it louder." he challenged, "maybe it'll actually do something."

"fuck you, bakugo katsuki." tears fell freely down your cheeks, but you weren't sad. you were pissed.

you walked around the table and jabbed your finger in his chest, "i have done so much for you. so goddamn much. i have stood by you, i have disproved every bad thing the media had to say, i've supported you, and-" your voice wobbled, "it's never fucking enough. nothing is ever enough for you. someone is always after you, someone is always praying on your downfall, because everything's about katsuki, right?"

he was stunned silent, leaning back away from you. his face was conflicted, eyes wide with surprise.

"well news-fucking-flash, the world doesn't revolve around you. and neither do i," you dropped your hand, wiping at your cheeks, "so i'm done. i'm done fighting for us, because you have never once tried for me."

"y/n--"

"y'know, katsuki." you paused on your way to the bedroom, "i think they were right about you. you are a douchebag. an asshole. a monster."

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toxicanonymity · 11 months

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🔥 tinder

3.5k / stepdad!joel x f!reader / stepdad master

A/N: Picks up after Fandango. Nothing has happened with the Mom before this, so ignore that hypothetical drabble.

Warnings: I8+ smut, mdni. stepcest, big girthy age gap, angst. jacking off, groping, oral F receiving. P in V but not with each other. cheating on each other, kind of. graphically overhearing your mom and him have sex :(. Joel's state of mind when he did it.

"Firm handshake," Joel says, then takes a seat on the other side of you. Joel’s extra aftershave wafts into your nostrils and makes you tingle. He asks about your date. Jacques leans forward with his elbows on his knees to tell Joel about where you went for dinner and what you guys had. You glance over at Joel and a subtle snarl is forming.

Joel is weird after his introspective drive home from your apartment. When you get back to their house, he silently brings the TV in for you, biceps bulging through his thin undershirt. He sets it up in your room and won’t make eye contact the whole time he’s in your room. Seems like everything went to hell as soon as you asked about their marriage.

“Joel.” He doesn't look. He bends over and his shirt rides up as he plugs the last thing into the TV.

“Joel, what the hell”

“What?” he snaps, “What do you want?”

You’re not sure what to say, so your default sarcasm spills out. “What, you can’t tell?”

He rolls his eyes. “Somethin’ you need right now, or am I done here?” He tosses the remote control onto your bed. He won’t even get within three feet of you.

“You don’t want me to answer that,” you say.

He scoffs and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Thanksgiving night, your mom gets home and the three of you eat dinner together. She asks how the movie was. Joel blushes and plays with his food, but you smoothly start telling her all about the Exorcist until she changes the subject since she doesn’t like horror.

“I was thinking, honey, why don’t you come with us to Mexico?”

“I thought you were going for a conference,” you say.

“Yeah, well. You know how that is. They wouldn’t have it at the beach if they didn’t expect us to have a little fun.” She looks at Joel. Joel is staring at his plate. She continues, “We were gonna add a couple of days, make a vacation of it. You could bring a friend if you want.”

You nod. “Or just the three of us?”

“Sure,” she says. Joel puts his fork down and sits back in his chair. “Ate too much earlier,” he says and excuses himself from the table. You don’t see him again that night.

The next morning, you go black Friday shopping with both of them. At most stores, Joel waits in the car sulking, pondering his life. You buy a new TV for your apartment, a few new bikinis for the trip, and your Mom buys Joel a bunch of new clothes. You’re going to miss the shrunken ones. After you get home, your Mom leaves to do more shopping and Joel watches football in the ] living room. You put on a new bikini and go downstairs to model it for him.

“Well what do you think?” you ask.

He quickly scans your body, his eyes not lingering anywhere. “Looks great,” he says flatly, then looks back at the TV.

You sit down next to him, elbow on the back of the sofa with your head propped up in your hand. He tries not to look.

“Give me a break,” he says.

“I just wanna know if you like it,” you say.

“Said it looks great.”

You adjust the cups of the top. “It’s not too much?”

“Come on, sweetheart.” He refuses to look. “Just get outta here, okay?”

“Okay, I have three more to try on.”

“Please don’t,” he says and adjusts the crotch of his sweatpants.

“I dunno why you’re punishing me for your own feelings,” you retort.

He sighs as though too tired to even try.

“Maybe I’ll go on that tinder date after all.” You’re still not planning on it at this point, you just want Joel to loosen up again and hope the threat might help.

Joel scowls at you. He knows he can’t tell you not to. He knows it’s not fair. “Would you grow up,” he says.

Your laugh is short and silent. “I’ll send the other suits on snapchat.”

You go back to your room and try them on, taking videos and pictures and sending them to Joel. “I dunno if the ass is too small on this one,” you say in a low, sultry voice, then turn the camera to the mirror to show your ass hanging out of a cheeky pair of boy shorts. You take some even hotter footage and send it all in real time.

Joel doesn’t open the snapchats right away. But soon, you hear the TV turn off downstairs, then he goes up to the master bedroom and closes the door.

You smile to yourself and put on a robe. He’s totally about to jack off. Sure enough, a minute or two later, Snapchat tells you when he starts watching your snaps. You tiptoe into the hall to listen. You sneak as close to his door as you can get without giving yourself away. You want to hear him do it unrestrained by your presence.

“God damn,” he sighs and your nipples harden at the sound.

“I dunno if the ass is too small on this one,” you say through his phone, and he replays it. “I dunno if the ass is too small on this one.” And again. “I dunno if the ass is too small on this one.”

He breathes loudly and you hear the wet squish of his fist around his cock.

“Uggghh,” he groans and you know he must be watching the one where you untie the top entirely and let it hang between your breasts. Outside his door, you slip your hand into your swimsuit and touch yourself as you listen to him breathe heavily. He audibly pleasures himself while you put on a show and strip for him on his phone. He’s so fucking hot.

“Jesus,” he says to himself. In snapchat, you must be pulling the swimsuit aside to show him your juicy cunt and how wet you are. You brought your phone with you in your robe so you can see how many snaps he has left to watch. That’s one of the last.

“It’s yours, Joel,” you say from his phone. “Come and get it.”

“Fuck me,” he sighs and the sound of his voice makes you lose control of your hand. You put your hand on the door knob and open it.

His phone repeats, “It’s yours, Joel. Come and get it. . . It’s yours, Joel. Come and get it.” You see the reflection of the explicit video in his glasses. He fumbles with his phone to stop it from playing again.

“What the hell are you doin’ here,” he whispers gruffly with his cheeks pink.

“If you’re not gonna come get it. . .” you say, putting your hands in the pockets of your robe and splaying them out to show your whole body.

“Your mom’s on her way home right now.”

“That’s what you wanna talk about?” You take a hand out of your robe pocket and slip it into your swimsuit, dipping a finger into your pussy, letting your head fall back, exposing your neck as you bite your lip and touch yourself. Then you snake your hand up your torso, between your breasts, to your neck. You walk all the way up to him, stepping over a trail of shopping bags from the walk-in closet to the bed. When you get to Joel, you put your fingers in his mouth and he licks them clean with his eyes closed. Then you take his free hand and put it on your breast, slipping it under the swimsuit. He does nothing to stop you. You start touching yourself again.

He strokes his cock faster. He wets his lips and breathes deeply as he palms your breast and watches you touch yourself.

Then you hear footsteps on the stairs, and your Mom’s voice. “Honey?” She must have left the garage door open while she was out. No warning.

“Shit,” he whispers, yanking his hand away from you. He looks around. You close your robe. “Closet,” he says, pulling his pants up over his wet, hard cock.

“No!” you whisper. But when you see your Mom’s shadow arriving at the top of the stairs and Joel all disheveled with his lube right on the nightstand, you don’t see another option. You’d have to cross the bedroom door to get to the bathroom.

Just as you hide in the closet, your Mom enters the bedroom, and her paper shopping bags clatter against the door on the way in. “It’s just you? Thought I heard someone.” She’s headed your way with the bags. This was so stupid. So, so stupid. You could have just tied up your robe and acted like you were getting something from their bathroom.

Joel intercepts her. “C’mere,” he says. “Why don’t ya let me put those up later?” His voice has a seductive air about it and a pit opens in your stomach.

“Joel,” she says accusatorily and laughs. “Were you watching porn?”

“What if I was,” he says. Of course he’s still hard and pink in the face. Terrible at hiding his humiliation.

“Hope you saved some for me,” she says saucily and your heart drops. She closes the bedroom door.

This is a worst case scenario.

You hear kissing. So fucked up. You plug your ears and dissociate. What follows is a torturous symphony of breathing and moaning from both of them for the longest five minutes of your life. You seethe, then you cry as silently as possible. Of course he’s thinking about you - of course. You gave him that hard-on. Is he doing it out of spite? Out of panic? Surely he could manage not to moan if he was only doing it because he felt like he had to. He knows you’re RIGHT THERE. Can he really not control himself?

While you’re still in the closet, you post one of your sexiest swimsuit photos on instagram. Then you text Joel, “This is so fucked up. I don’t want to ever hear a word from you about my dates or instagram or anything else.” You send him a screencap from Tinder where you’re confirming your availability for a date with Jacques. “Hope you’re happy,” you add. “Fuck you.”

When it’s over, your mom goes to the bathroom and you make your escape, wiping your eyes with one hand, holding your robe closed tight with another, not even looking in Joel’s direction. You can feel him looking at you, though.

You slam the door to your bedroom.

Joel responds to your text, “You’re right, it’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”

That makes you even more upset. You want it to be his business. You get in your bed and sob.

“I dunno what to say,” he adds. “I didn’t know what to do. If you can’t forgive, me I understand.”

You respond, “You didn’t have to act so into it.”

He says, “I was trying to make it quick. I’m really sorry.”

You don’t reply.

“I wish I could undo it. I’m sorry.”

You don’t respond.

He asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Fuck no, you don’t want to talk about it. Why would you want to talk about it? You stay in your room for a long time but eventually go to the kitchen to get something to drink. He must hear you going downstairs because it’s only a minute before he comes down, too.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

How would you be okay? You don’t have anything to say to him.

He says, “I was gonna, uh, go to the gas station. You want a drink or somethin’?” You don’t answer.

You go back to your room. When he gets back, he knocks on your door. You don’t answer. He goes back downstairs and texts you that he got you a drink and put it in the fridge.

The next morning, you come down for breakfast and he’s there.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks. You don’t answer. He watches you pour a glass of orange juice in silence. You drink it and put it in the sink. He leans against the doorframe from the kitchen to the hall, blocking your way. As you go by, he gently puts his hand on your chest and whispers, “Hey.” You look down at his big, veiny hand. How dare he platonically put it on your chest? You take a deep breath, your breast swelling into the heel of his palm.

“What?” you ask.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Please forgive me.”

You laugh condescendingly.

“Or at least talk to me,” he begs with puppy dog eyes.

You return to your room without another word.

Over the next few days, you go back to your apartment and Joel tries texting you casually. He snapchats you too, but you don’t answer it.

A few days later, you go out with Jacques to get your mind off Joel. Joel remembers your plans. He’s still thinking about it.

“Have fun on your date,” Joel texts you. The nerve. If Jacques is hot enough in person, you might give Joel a taste of his own medicine in terms of what Joel has to overhear. You’re glad you hadn’t decided the location when you sent Joel the screencap, lest he show up.

Jacques is hot. You go out to dinner, then bring him home to your mom and Joel's house instead of your apartment. The two of you sit in the kitchen first and you make him a drink. You continue your conversation from the date. His voice is deep and smooth, but not as sexy as Joel's. You can’t help but compare everything about them. You and Jacques take your drinks to the living room to watch a movie. You sit in the middle of the sofa and Jacques sits by your side.

Before you've even picked a movie, Joel walks in. He spreads his feet and crosses his arms, pushing out his biceps with his hands underneath them. Then he just stares at you. He looks like he’s trying to restrain himself.

"Joel," you light up insincerely. "This is Jacques."

Jacques gets up and shakes Joel's hand.

"Firm handshake," Joel says flatly, then takes a seat on the other side of you. Joel’s extra aftershave wafts into your nostrils and makes you tingle. He asks about your date. Jacques leans forward with his elbows on his knees to tell Joel about where you went for dinner and what you guys had. You glance over at Joel and a subtle snarl is forming at the edge of his nose. You lean back against the couch since they’re trying to talk to each other.

Joel asks, "So what'd ya talk about? Any common interests?"

"Oh yeah, we both love horror movies," Jacques says.

"Nice," Joel nods. "She tell ya we went to see the new Exorcist?"

"Um, yeah. She mentioned it was good."

Joel chuckles, then looks at you. "It was good, huh? You'll have to catch me up before the next one, sweetheart." He gives your thigh a squeeze and winks at Jacques. Then he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "Where ya from, Jacques?"

"El Paso," he says. Joel doesn't hide his surprise. Then Jacques adds, "My parents are French."

Joel nods thoughtfully. "Am I sayin' it right? Jock? Or is it Jack?"

"Jack is fine."

"Nice."

You interrupt them. "I don't think Hulu's working in here. C'mon Jacques, we can watch in my room."

"Now hold on, I'll fix it for ya," Joel offers and puts his hand on yours, reaching for the remote control.

"Nah," you say. "Wanna try out my TV in there anyway."

“Alright,” Joel mumbles. He runs a hand over his beard. If he didn’t feel so guilty, he’d be losing his shit right now. You’re sure of it. He’s trying really hard to be fair. You and Jacques get up off the sofa, then Joel stands up.

"It was nice to meet you," Jacques says and shakes Joel's hand again.

"You're the stepdad right?" Jacques removes his hand from Joel's death grip.

"Guess I am tonight," Joel mutters.

“Sorry, what?” Jacques asks.

"Yeah, he is," you say, then look at Joel. "Where's Mom?" You ask. "Figured y'all were going to have some quality time."

"Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart," Joel says, then briefly massages your shoulder before walking away to the fridge.

You and Jacques watch Equalizer 2.

Joel texts you, “Don’t do this.”

After about fifteen minutes you respond, “?”

“Please,” Joel texts. “You’ve made your point.”

You don’t reply.

“I know I deserve it, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

In another twenty minutes, you see the shadow of feet under your door. A few seconds later, there’s a soft knock. “Gonna make some popcorn, y’all want some?” Joel asks. You tell him no thanks.

Toward the end of Equalizer 2, Jacques gets handsy with you and you welcome the advance. He’s not bad with his hands, but you also don’t hesitate to exaggerate your sounds of pleasure. But that exaggeration turns into real enjoyment. You relish the opportunity to release all your tension into someone else’s body. Someone who wants you unapologetically and would hopefully never make you hide in a closet.

Jacques has a big one, too. You close your eyes and pretend he’s Joel as you’re making out and his hard cock is grinding into your crotch. You moan into his mouth, desperately wanting to feel Joel's beard against your cheek. Jacques whispers your name and says, “I want you.” He takes his cock out and wraps your hand around it. You grab it hungrily without opening your eyes. You hear the tear of a condom wrapper and your breath hitches. Your body wants it.

Then the fire alarm goes off. You cover your ears and Jack puts his dick away. You don’t bother fixing your hair or skirt.

“Sorry!” Joel yells from downstairs. The smell of burned popcorn fills the hall. It takes him a minute to turn off the alarm, of course. Jacques opens the bedroom door to see what’s going on. Then Joel comes upstairs out of breath and apologizes for the commotion.

“Sorry ‘bout that, guys.” Joel hovers there in the door with one of his hands on the frame.

You cross your arms on your bed, and Joel’s eyes fall to where the bedding is messed up.

“Well, It was nice to meet ya, Jacques,” he says. “Lemme walk ya out.”

Jacques is confused. “I, uh.”

“Um, I guess I’ll call you,” you tell Jacques.

Relief washes over Joel’s face and he asks you, “Your Mom, uh, needs a ride, you wanna come with me in a minute?”

Jacques looks back and forth between the two of you. “Yeah, guess I better go,” he says to himself.

Joel walks him out.

When Joel comes back from walking Jacques out, he tries to be casual, but his body is clearly tense.

"Really think he bought that performance?" Joel asks as he pushes into your room. He closes the door behind him and leans against it with his butt. He looks at Find my Friends on his iphone. “She’s ten minutes away,” he says and pushes off your door to approach your bed.

"What performance?” you ask.

"C'mon, sweetheart. You were fakin' it." He lifts the comforter and sheets and inspects them. "Dry."

Your cheeks burn.

He sits down on the bed and picks up the unused condom still in its wrapper. "Least you woulda been smart."

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you ask. “Leave me alone.”

“Can’t, sweetheart,” he murmurs and puts his hand on your thigh. “I can’t.”

“Then do something about it or get the fuck out,” you whisper.

He slides his hand up your skirt and slips his fingers right into your panties. “That for me or him?”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

You lean back on your pillows and he gets between your legs. He hikes your skirt up and pulls your panties down, then plants his face between your thighs, lightly caressing them from the outside with his big, masculine hands. “Gotta be quick,” he murmurs into your pussy, then digs in. He sucks and laps at you and inhales deeply through his nose. Your hips lift into his mouth. You whine his name. He pauses and looks up but doesn’t reprimand you. He penetrates you with his tongue and moans into your cunt.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathe. He devours you ravenously, moaning and sighing, until your thighs tense and your hips lift and you moan his name as you come in his mouth and he laps up every drop.

He tears his head away and looks at you affectionately. He’s panting and his face is dripping wet from the nose down. He kisses your inner thigh, then gives you a hickey there on each side.

The garage door opens downstairs. Joel stands up and adjusts his joggers to accommodate his massive erection. He’s still breathing heavily. He wipes off his face. He walks to your door and opens it without a word. He turns around and looks at you, then closes the door behind him.

THANK YOU for reading and thank you so much for your reblogs and comments! Now more than ever. PSA: definitely follow if you're into this, because i'm shadowbanned and not showing up in tags. this also means i can't make comments or send or receive DMs. follow @toxicfics for notifications and @toxicrecs for reblogs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #love2cuck #stepdad!joel miller #stepdad!joel☠️#toxicanonymity ☠️#stepdad!joel

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tropes-and-tales · 6 months

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Lieutenant Steal-Your-Girl

Day 8: Cuckolding (Bob Floyd x F!Reader; Jake Seresin x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Light angst (relationship woes); open relationships; cuckolding, but not really, I think I did this one wrong but got too deep to turn back; Jake is a bad boyfriend; smut (Oral, F!receiving; PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count: 5536

AN: This was requested for Kinktober by an anon!

AN2: This might not be for everyone. People feel A Certain Way about open relationships, and this is very much a Reddit revenge version of that. Cuckolding? Maybe if you squint. I dunno. It got away from me and my original intention for this. Also, if you're a Jake fan, this won't be for you. Read at your own peril.

The sentence makes Bob Floyd short-circuit. A question, in English, uttered by Jake with his smarmy grin, but it’s so incongruous, Bob’s mind cannot grasp it.

“You wanna fuck my girl, Baby on Board?”

Bob sputters at the question. He feels his cheeks heat up as blood floods his face in a furious blush. He wonders if it’s a joke, a put-on by the other pilots. He glances around—to the piano where Rooster is perched, to the bar where Nat and Javi wait patiently for a fresh pitcher—and finds himself without backup. It’s just him and Bagman by the pool tables.

Bob can’t help but glance out the windows of the Hard Deck to see where you’re sitting.

Where you’re waiting patiently for Jake to rejoin you. Where you often sit alone while Jake flirts with the local girls. Where the other members of the Dagger Squad often sit with you, an apology of sorts, a paltry way of making up for your boyfriend’s inattention. Where Bob, more than any other Dagger, often sits with you, distracts you from your wayward boyfriend, makes you laugh with his corny jokes.

You explain to him one night how you and Jake are trying an open thing, an open relationship, a way of spicing up your long-term thing—but Bob hears the misery in your voice, and he sees the hurt look in your eyes when you see your boyfriend openly flirting with his next conquest—

Jake snapping his fingers brings Bob back to focus. He opens his mouth, manages to answer Jake (“of course not, she’s your girl, Bagman”), but it’s the flimsiest of lies. Bob knows it. Jake knows it.

Bob has wanted you from the moment he clapped his eyes on you.

-----

Another night, another moment where Bob finds himself alone with Jake.

The same question posed to him. “You wanna fuck my girl, Bob?”

This time, Jake doesn’t let Bob sputter out a lie. The man shakes his head, offers a rueful grin, then claps Bob on the back hard enough to nearly jolt him off his stool.

“It isn’t an accusation,” Jake clarifies. “It’s a question. An offer. You interested?”

Another lie when he stammers out, “no, I wouldn’t…I mean, I don’t think—”

Jake cuts him off with another hard clap on the back. “Let’s take a walk, huh? Me and you. We’ll talk.”

-----

That’s the night Bob learns that his understanding of kinks is incomplete. He always thought of kinks as things like role-playing or handcuffs or outrageous lingerie. He never knew of cuckolding beyond, perhaps, a vague memory of reading the word in high school when they read Shakespeare in English class.

That’s the night Bob learns that beyond opening up your relationship, Jake has a thing for cuckolding. It’s only theoretical; you haven’t slept with anyone but Jake, but Jake has taken full advantage of the open relationship and has had many lovers beyond you.

And Jake finds the idea of you with another man intoxicating. However, when he’s broached the subject with you, urged you to go out and find yourself a one-night stand, you’ve balked.

Hence, the need for Bob.

“She is comfortable with you,” Jake explains, and it sounds so commonplace, so everyday that he’s offering his girlfriend up as a potential one-night stand for his fellow Dagger. “And I know you like her.”

Bob ends up declining. Of course he likes you. He’s wanted you for as long as he’s known you. He lies awake at night, plagued by insomnia that has its origin in you. Evenings cheering you up at the Hard Deck haunt him—your sad eyes that always track Jake around the bar, but the way you laugh at Bob’s jokes, the way you chat with him earnestly about books and movies, about hiking trails you want to conquer, places you want to travel to. You’re Bob’s dream girl but you’re taken, whether your relationship is open or not.

Bob declines Jake’s offer. Besides, it feels too close to a business deal, edging too close to something akin to sex work, albeit without money changing hands. Jake and his smarmy grin feels too close to being a pimp. Just two men making a deal about a woman without her input.

So Bob declines, but when you make a similar offer weeks later, that’s something else entirely.

-----

It happens at the Hard Deck. You’re outside nursing a drink, separating yourself from where Jake chats up a local woman. Bob sits beside you, and he tells you a story from when he was stationed in Pensacola, but you’re not really listening.

You cut him off halfway through his story, turn to face him. Your eyes, usually so sad, have a fire in them he’s never seen before, and it pulls his up short, strikes him mute.

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” you ask, and if Bob stammered his way through Jake’s offer, he doesn’t hesitate a single second when you ask.

“Yes,” he replies. “Absolutely.”

-----

Bob has no idea what the rules are. Jake made it sound like a tawdry hook-up, a late-night meeting with sex and nothing else.

You? You ask him if he wants to go out with you, and Bob interprets that as a date night. He gets your number, texts you throughout the week, and makes plans.

A proper date night. Bob can’t tell if Jake knows or not. He’s unclear if there’s a don’t-ask, don’t-tell policy in place, despite how open Jake seems to be with his own dalliances. Bob keeps it hush-hush, and late Saturday afternoon, Bob finds himself at your apartment.

-----

Years later, Bob will be able to admit to himself: this isn’t just a date for him.

It’s an audition. It’s a job interview. It’s Lieutenant Robert Floyd doing his damnedest to show you that he’s a better bet than Jake.

Bob sees how unhappy you are with Jake, how miserable you are to be in an open relationship you didn’t want. It’s Bob trying to show you that Jake isn’t the only man in the world; that there are other proverbial fish in the proverbial sea, and that maybe another man (Bob, specifically) would cherish you, would love you, would never offer you up to other men. Cuckolding isn’t Bob’s kink at all, so he misinterprets Jake’s insistence as guilt. Jake must feel guilty, Bob reasons, and offering you up feels like a twisted version of atonement—a chance for you to explore other men.

It occurs to Bob that Jake chose him because he doesn’t feel threatened. Bob Floyd—quiet Bob with his terrible, Navy-issued glasses, with his quiet voice and lack of braggadocio—is no threat to the handsome, cocky pilot.

Years later, it will only demonstrate: Jake Seresin doesn’t know Bob Floyd at all, but more to the point—Jake Seresin doesn’t really know you.

*****

As far as first dates go, Bob knocks it out of the park.

Not that you have a lot of experience. You’ve only ever had one first date—all the way back in sophomore year of high school—when Jake took you out to Sonic and then felt you up in the cab of his truck.

You try not to compare Adult Bob against Adolescent Jake. It wouldn’t be fair.

It doesn’t stop you from comparing Adult Bob to Adult Jake, and the differences are stunning.

Bob greets you at your door with a bouquet of flowers, cheerful daises that nod their fat little heads as you invite him in to put them in water. Bob does his usual Bob-stammer, a faint pink tinge to his cheeks as he tells you how beautiful you look.

When was the last time Jake got you flowers? When was the last time Jake complimented your looks?

You often feel invisible with your boyfriend, and it’s always been that way. Star running back Jake, hometown hero, dating the perfectly average, perfectly middle-of-the-road girl. Jake with his good looks, his perfect smile, his perfect tan, his perfect muscles…and you.

Jake’s idea of a date night is typically the Hard Deck, and since the two of you have opened up your relationship, date night has ceded to hunting for new prospects. You dread it every time; you sit outside and listen to the ceaseless roll of the waves, and you wait with a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach to see if you’ll go home alone or if your boyfriend will turn up at last call, disappointed to have struck out, disappointed to go home to boring old you.

You are desperately unhappy. Your emotions veer wildly. You swing between extremes: manic periods where you work out, get your hair styled, where you scrub and polish and pluck yourself as near to perfect as you can get. Depressive periods where you can barely summon the strength to shower, ground down by the thought of your boyfriend fucking other women.

You know you should end it. When Jake sat you down all those months ago, your stomach had fluttered with butterflies. This is it, you thought. He’s going to ask me to marry him. You’d waited so long, patient and unswerving in your devotion. Through college and flight school, bouncing around in his wake as his assignments and deployments dictated.

Instead, Jake told you he was bored. That he read up on it, and he thought opening the relationship would be good for him. For you, too.

“As long as we always come home to each other, I don’t see it as a bad thing,” he had told you, and you—always invisible, always trailing behind him like a lost puppy—had hated yourself when you nodded in agreement.

-----

Bob takes you first to an independent bookstore, a tucked-away little gem, and you realize immediately that he isn’t playing fair. When you tell him so, shaking your forefinger with a mock-frown, he only gives you his soft Bob Floyd smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he claims, and he holds his palms up in surrender. “We just have a little time to kill before our reservations.”

Bad enough he’s brought you here. The two of you talk books all the time, and it’s a thoughtful date idea. But what makes it worse is when he sidles up to you as you read the book jacket of a new release and says, low near your ear, “get whatever you want. My treat.”

It’s the moment the bottom falls out for you. It’s like you’ve been wading around in the shallow end of the pool, and Bob’s sweet date paired with Bob’s surprisingly low, grumbling voice near your ear is your foot slipping into the deep end. You find yourself treading water. You find yourself fighting off the panicky urge to flail.

-----

Dinner is at a restaurant overlooking the ocean, and you wonder if Bob timed it so that you’d be there during sunset.

You suspect he did. You’re starting to suspect that this isn’t just some prelude to fucking, the crude reality of this open relationship you and Jake are doing, the cuckolding fetish that Jake seems to have. Bob could have just invited you over to his place, but he’s planned such a lovely first date.

You are out of your depth, but when the panic starts to grip you, you only look across the table to see Bob: his bright blue eyes, his gentle smile, the tips of his ears pink underneath the soft wave of his hair. You look at him and it feels natural, and the panic ebbs away but it’s replaced by something else.

Doubt. This date with Bob is a crack in the foundation of your relationship with Jake. A tiny little trickle of doubt slips through.

Why does this feel so easy, you think as you pick at your meal. Why does this feel so easy but everything with Jake feels so fraught?

It feels easy because Bob talks to you, not at you. He’s endlessly curious about you: your history, your likes, your dislikes. What your job is like, what your childhood was like. Where you see yourself in five years, in ten, in twenty? Do you like the country or the city? The ocean or the mountains? Do you like dogs or cats or both? What’s your favorite book, what’s the last movie you saw?

Jakes doesn’t ask you those questions, and you half-convince yourself that it’s because you’ve been together for so long. Jake knows everything there is to know about you.

But you know that’s not true. Bob pays for dinner, then takes your hand in his. He walks you to a nearby gelato place for dessert, and it’s nearly perfect. This second first date with Bob Floyd while your boyfriend is out doing god know what (or who).

It’s nearly perfect but not entirely because you admit to yourself that Jake doesn’t know everything about you at all. He’s never asked what you’re reading, who your favorite author is, and it hits you suddenly that Bob—who you’ve known for a handful of months, if that—might know parts of you better than your boyfriend.

At Bob’s truck, he puts the key in the ignition but doesn’t turn it yet. He turns to face you, and his face is a furious red. He’s blushing, you realize. Something is making him blush.

“Take you home?” he asks, and his voice has a strange tension in it that you’ve never heard before. You think of this date, all the effort he put into it to make it perfect. You think of all the times he’s kept you company at the Hard Deck, how sometimes he sits in front of you, makes his body block your line of sight so you can’t see Jake leaning in on some girl who is prettier than you, more adventuresome than you—

“No.” You shake your head, then smile at Bob. You don’t care about Jake and his stupid cuckolding kink; you’ve been on a low-simmer of growing desire ever since the bookshop when Bob leaned in and growled in your ear. You want Bob for Bob’s own sake.

“Take me to your place,” you say.

*****

It’s a dangerous thing, how Jake never once crosses Bob’s mind once he gets you to his apartment. Bob forgets the reality of this situation: that you’re taken, that this is a one-time thing, that it’s actually feeding into Jake’s kink, not yours or Bob’s.

Bob forgets all of that. He’s only focused on you: lovely, perfect you. The best date he’s ever been on, and Bob feels like a million bucks at how surprised you’d been with each part of it. The way your face lit up at the flowers, at his compliments. The squeal of surprise at the book store, the shy way you only chose one book for him to buy you—he would have bought you the whole store if you’d asked. The content sigh each time you looked at the sun setting over the ocean, and how natural it felt to hold your hand as he walked you back to his truck.

Bob doesn’t think of Jake until afterwards, and it’s dangerous because Bob instead thinks about second dates, third dates. He forgets that you’re spoken for, and instead he spins out an entire future where he meets your family and you meet his, where he cleans off a shelf in his bathroom for you, where the two of you move in together…

Who could blame him, though? Once he gets you inside his apartment, he turns to ask if you want a drink, but you’re right there, standing so close to him that he can see the little amber flecks in your eyes and the question is only halfway out of his mouth when you kiss him.

Of course Bob doesn’t think of Jake. He’s wanted you since he first saw you, and here you finally are: your hands on him, holding him steady as you press your lips to his, as you bump against his glasses and knock them askew, then break the kiss to gently reach up and set them right again.

“Sorry,” you mumble, and Bob doesn’t link your sudden reticence—you avoid his eyeline—to Jake. He doesn’t make the connection between your bashful expression and how you’ve only ever kissed Jake, slept with Jake, and how monumental this all must feel.

“Don’t apologize.” Bob cups his hands on your bare shoulders, pulls you in for a hug. “Nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“I’m not very good at this.” It comes out muffled, your face pressed against his shoulder.

Bob has always guessed that your rocky relationship with Jake has shaken your confidence, but he doesn’t think of that now. He only feels you sigh against him, embarrassed, so he pushes you away gently, touches his forehead to yours.

“You’re fine,” he assures you. “You’re perfect.” Then he leans in, kisses you this time, and when his glasses get knocked off-kilter again, he just takes them off, folds them into his pocket, then leads you into his bedroom.

*****

You’ve spent a lot of time on the internet researching cuckolding as a kink, and you had settled on the belief that Jake was into it because he was turned on by the idea of another man using you.

Or maybe he just feels guilty that he’s the only one taking advantage of the open relationship.

Who can say? When you try to talk about it, Jake brushes you off, tells you not to worry about it too much, so you never are quite clear on what motivates the man you thought you’d marry one day.

But as far as being used goes, nothing about your dalliance with Bob says used: the man worships you. He kneels in front of your body like a penitent, and his hands are so gentle, his voice so soft as he asks permission every step of the way.

“Can I kiss you here?”

“Can I touch you here?”

Is this okay? Does this feel good? Tell me what you like. Tell me what you need. I’ll do anything. Let me make you feel good.

Is this what Jake wanted—a change from the usual? Because being with Bob feels like a revelation: you’ve never been loved like this. He kisses his way down your naked body, then reverses course until he’s between your legs, his broad shoulders holding your thighs open. His mouth on you, the shy little swipes of his tongue until he gets a taste of you—then he devours you like a starved man, completely unabashed at the groans leaving him, at the way he grinds into the bedding at how turned on he is to feast on you.

You open your mouth to tell him not to bother, that you’ve never come from oral alone, but then you feel how your body is responding, the answering arousal to Bob’s skilled tongue, and when he slides a finger inside you, you’re reminded of that too-deep feeling from earlier.

But instead of feeling panicky, you feel a sharp throb of arousal. You aren’t afraid of being in too deep now. You aren’t straining to return to shore.

You want to be swept out to sea, and you want Bob to be the one to do it. When your orgasm approaches, you reach down and tangle your fingers in Bob’s hair—it’s as soft as it looks, just as silky—and Bob looses a groan that vibrates up from your pussy to the very top of your head. He reaches up and holds your hand against his head, mumbles against you to use him, to grind against him, so you do. You lift your hips and press against his mouth, feel the bump of his nose against your clit, and you realize that you’re about to come from oral for the first time in your life and that it’s not your boyfriend who’s done it.

When you come against Bob’s mouth, every single thought of Jake is erased from your head, and you won’t think of him again afterwards.

*****

Bob takes a long beat to get control of himself. He was dangerously close to coming as he ate you out, and he waits for his own orgasm to fade into the background before he continues.

Instead, he props himself on one elbow and just watches you. If you looked beautiful before, you look even more so now: all of the tension is gone from your face, and blink up at him sleepily, dreamily. Your smile is lazy, and when you sigh, it’s nothing but content.

“Good?” he asks, grinning down at you.

You nod, just as lazy as your smile. “The best.” You purse your lips, pout up at him. “Kiss me?”

How can he resist? He leans down to kiss you, and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, pull him closer to you. Eating you out has relaxed you, banished whatever doubts you had from earlier, and you kiss him now with a passion he’s never experienced before: you part your lips, you slide your tongue into his mouth, you lick against him. You must taste yourself on him because you make the cutest damned whimper, and it goes straight to his dick, hearing how undone you are.

Then you do this cute little wriggling move underneath him, and Bob’s body moves independently of his brain: he slots himself between your thighs, slick from his earlier attention, and his erection bumps against your hip, your belly before you reach down and guide him to where you want him most.

Bob breaks the kiss long enough to mumble his question about protection, and it won’t occur to him until much later—what it means when you say you’re on birth control but also that you’re clean, that there’s no risk.

It won’t occur to Bob until later, what it means for you to say you’re clean. It won’t occur to him that you’re in a committed relationship, that your boyfriend has regular hookups but you remain STD-free since your last checkup.

It’ll hit Bob in the middle of his workday at Miramar, what you are telling him now: that your bedroom with Jake is dead and has been for a while, and that this moment with Bob is the first time you’ve had sex in months.

He’ll realize that later. Now, there’s only the feeling of your pussy—warm, wet, perfect—as he pushes into you. There’s only the sound of your sharp inhale, your whine as you tell him to go slow, to be gentle, but you don’t need to tell him that. He’d never hurt you, and he can feel how tight you are, so he goes slow. He works himself into you carefully, watches your face for any sign of pain.

He sees none. He goes so slowly that he only sees your expression go from worried to stunned: the lines in your brow smooth out and your lips part as you gaze up at him, a perfect oh of surprise.

When he’s fully seated in you, buried in the silky depths of your pussy, Bob stills—and he realizes that you are trembling underneath him.

“Honey,” he breathes out, the sweet nickname falling from his mouth without thought. “You okay? You want me to—”

“No.” You cut him off, gift him with a shaky smile. “Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me a minute.”

“’Course.” He leans down, bumps his nose against yours until your smile firms up, seems steadier. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Bob only moves enough to settle more of his weight on you, and then he takes the time to kiss you: he trails featherlight kisses across your face, your forehead, your flushed cheeks. He kisses the tip of your nose—it pulls a giggle from you, and the sound makes him smile. He kisses along your jaw. He dips his head near your ear, whispers how gorgeous you are, how good you feel, how he’d happily stay like this forever. He doesn’t miss the little shudder you give at his praise.

Bob doesn’t realize that he’s shifted your worldview entirely. Just this simple liaison—not even complete, and nothing extreme—has rearranged everything you thought you knew. You aren’t actively thinking of Jake at all—he’s been banished until afterwards—but you’re considering the balance of your entire erotic history against this single moment with Bob.

You’re realizing that sex can be so much more than just an act…and with Bob, a man you haven’t known that long.

You eventually stop trembling. Bob feels it when you relax; the tight clench of your cunt slackens a bit. He feels your hands on him, shy at first and then bolder as you run your warm palms over the planes of his back, along his shoulders and arms. As you thread your fingers through his hair, comb out the tangles there. As you rest your palm along the back of his head and lead his face back to yours.

“Thank you.” You whisper it, and your eyes are wide. Earnest. Bob isn’t sure what you’re thanking him for, so he just kisses you again.

“I’m ready,” you mumble against his searching lips.

“You sure?”

A nod, a purposeful roll of your hips that makes Bob see stars, makes the edges of his vision turn hazy with desire.

“Take me, Bob,” you tell him, and he’s never heard you so assured. “I’m yours.”

So he does. He takes you in small movements, focused on your pleasure. He is used to sitting in the backseat of a billion dollar plane, all those systems to keep track of, so focusing on you is an easy, wondrous thing: the expression on your face, the moans he manages to pull from you. The way your eyes flutter shut or roll back or fix on him like he’s responsible for setting the sun in the sky. The way your hands touch him or hold him, sometimes soft and stroking, sometimes clinging to him like he’s your life preserver. The way your cunt feels, slick and warm and gripping him, obscenely wet as he fucks into you harder, the sound of skin on skin, the heady scent of sex filling his room, and he hopes it lingers for days afterwards, he wants the moment to never end.

He focuses on your pleasure as it rises, crests around you: the way you tighten up, bear down harder on him until he loses some of his rhythm. He reaches a shaky hand down to touch you there, the slick, swollen place where he disappears into the confines of your body, and he rubs a tight circle against you. He begs you to come for him; he’s so close, he feels his balls tightening against his body, and he needs you to come for him first, needs to feel you before—

When you come, you say his name. You breathe it out, a hot pant against his ear, and Bob is grateful for it because it pushes him over the edge. He groans out your name too, chokes out a curse, and you come together—your pussy pulsing around him as he buries himself in you, comes inside you.

Marks you as his.

-----

Afterwards, Bob remembers Jake and feels a sting of conscience—but not enough to send you home. That had been integral to the cuckolding thing, Bob sending you home thoroughly fucked, to sleep beside Jake, for Jake to know you’d been with another man and to be turned on by it.

A mean little part of Bob wants to. He wants to send you home satisfied, his cum dripping out of you. Part of him sees the allure of it from his side; Jake doesn’t consider Bob a threat, so it’d hit the smug bastard hard to see you satisfied, happy from your dalliance with the back-seater.

But Bob doesn’t give a shit about Jake. Not when you’re sitting in his bed with the sheets wrapped around you, uncertain all of a sudden, and Bob kisses you on the forehead and tells you to stay.

“Just stay the night,” he says. “Please. I’d love for you to stay.”

He sees the doubt on your face. He knows you’re thinking of Jake, and Bob feels a flare of something—anger, protectiveness, whatever. It gives him the courage to speak up. He takes your hand in his, settles on the bed beside you.

“Honey, is this even what you wanted? I had a fun time with you, but would you have asked me out if Jake hadn’t wanted it?”

Your expression turns from uncertain to surprise in an instant. “No! I mean, I asked you out because I like you. And because I’m in an open thing. I thought…” You trail off, stare at him as you try to assemble your words. “Did you only agree to take me about because of Jake?”

Bob shakes his head. “No. I took you out because I wanted to. I brought you here because I want you.”

Your surprise turns to a shy smile. “Really?”

He squeezes your hand. “Really.”

Your smile fades away by degrees, and your eyes shine with unshed tears. “I never wanted any of this, you know. I…I wanted to get married, have kids, all that, but he…” You sigh, drop your head. “I don’t like the open relationship. It makes me feel like I’m not enough, you know?”

“Honey—”

“Like if I were better somehow, he wouldn’t have to go out and find other women—”

“Hey, no, don’t—”

“Like, what is wrong with me? Why aren’t I enough? Why—”

“Stop.” Bob places a finger over your mouth to silence you. He hates all this doubt, hates how little you think of yourself, so he stills your words. “You’re enough,” he tells you. “Hell, honey, you’re everything.”

You blink at him, surprised. The shimmering tears shake loose, start to course down your cheeks, and Bob pulls you to him, holds you as you cry. He wraps you in his arms as you sob against him, gasp out that you don’t know what to do, that you’ve felt lost for months now—

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” he murmurs against your head. “You just need a good night’s rest. That’s all you need to do tonight.”

Your tears taper off. You push away from him gently and swipe at where your tears have made his bare chest wet.

“Stop being so wise, Lieutenant,” you grumble, but there’s a teasing quality there that makes Bob smile. You sniffle and glance up at him, and he’s struck how beautiful you are even with swollen, teary eyes.

Maybe you’ve rearranged his world too.

No, there’s no maybe to it. You’ve definitely rearranged his world.

“Stay with me tonight,” he says, and he keeps his voice low and even, tries to keep the excitement out of it. He can sense that a sea-change is coming, and he doesn’t want to jinx it.

“Stay tonight,” he repeats. “Things are always clearer in the morning, I find.”

So you do. You nod at him, and you wave off his offers to get you clothes to sleep in. The two of you fall asleep in record time—the cure for Bob’s you-induced insomnia is you, both the cause and the cure, your warm, naked body curled up alongside him as he fades into sleep.

And you were right: Bob is wise. You’ll wake in the morning to an empty bed, a room full of sunlight, the lingering scent of sex. You’ll pad out into Bob’s kitchen and find the man putting the finishing touches on breakfast, and you’ll let him feed you before you let him fuck you again—this time on his kitchen counter, the room full of light so you can see the blatant love in his expression as he claims you again. And then a third time, together in the shower, a slow moment so full of feeling that you’ll cry when you come, and Bob will hold you, will choke back words as he comes too, and you’ll wonder later why those bitten-back words sound so much like I love you.

And then you’ll let Bob drive you home where Jake will be waiting for you. His smug smile will fall as you breeze past him, his cuckolding fantasy falling apart in front of him because he was the only one turned on by it, the only one turned on by opening your relationship. Jake will realize too late that he only opened the door for someone else to come and steal you away, and that the thief will be Robert Floyd, who taught you that love should never be such a fraught, painful thing, and that you may not be enough for Jake, but for the right man, you are everything.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

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strawnarrries · 9 months

Text

because im sad about the last show, here's a little imagine about y/n and harry reminiscing the past two years the night before the last show :(

warnings: mentions of sex but nothing graphic

Your eyes fluttered open and you realized it was still dark outside, a sign that it was not quite morning just yet. You're not sure why you woke up. It was like your body knew something was off because when you turned over, the bed was empty beside you.

Rubbing your eyes to clear the sleepy haze, you noticed light coming from under the closed door of the bedroom in the villa you and Harry are staying in. Getting up out of bed, you opened the door and the sudden change in lighting burned your eyes. After getting used to it, you walked towards the kitchen and spotted your husband, leaning up against the counter, sipping on something inside of a mug.

“Harry?” you hummed, walking up to him.

“Oh hey, did I wake you up? I’m sorry," he looked up at you with doe eyes and messy hair sticking up in every direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep.”

You popped your bottom lip out and wrapped your arms around his bare waist, his instinctively wrapping around yours after setting his mug on the counter, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just can't believe the last show's tomorrow night.”

“Aw, I know. You wanna talk about it?” you hummed, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"I'm gonna miss it. A lot," he whispered, "but at the same time I'm excited for a long break."

"It's bittersweet."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"It's gonna be weird not getting to watch you on stage every night in your sparkly outfits."

He chuckled softly, "You don't get those outfits at home, do ya?"

"No, I get you either naked or in the one stupid shirt that you refuse to throw away even though it's practically in shreds."

"Thought you loved that shirt?" he teased.

You glared up at him before changing the subject, "What'dya think you'll miss the most? Just being on stage?"

"Yeah. Performing. It's one of my favorite things in the world to do. I just get such a rush from being out there and interacting with the fans and hearing them scream my lyrics."

"And hearing them bark at you," you added.

He giggled, "Yes, that too."

"You'll be back though. It's not the end."

“You're right. I feel like this tour was just special for some reason, I dunno. I fear I’m gonna get really emotional tomorrow on stage though. I was holding back tears at the show the other night," he chuckled.

“It’s okay to get emotional. You know me and your mom will be sobbing the entire night."

He smiled softly as he cupped your jaw and rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheek, "I've been reflecting a lot recently. So much has happened in the last two years. It's wild."

“You've done, like what, 150 shows?”

“169 tomorrow."

“Holy shit, Harry. Most of them were completely sold out too. Do you realize how incredible that is?”

“It's mad. I think this has been the most successful tour I’ve ever been on.”

“Oh, by far.”

“Gonna miss seeing everyone every day. Gonna miss the fans and being up on stage. I've had some of the best shows of my life on this tour.”

“Harryween,” you giggled fondly at the memory that popped into your head.

“That was fun as fuck,” he giggled back.

“You’ve done more than just tour though. So many award shows, Coachella, music videos, you starred in two different movies, Harry.”

“I have,” he nodded, smiling proudly at himself, "Looking back, the amount of love and support that I've gotten from everyone, the fans, my team, my friends, and family, and from you is just - it's - it's so overwhelming like I can't even explain it to you. Like my mind can't comprehend that this is my life. Been 13 years and I still can't believe it."

"'cause you deserve it, baby. With the amount of love you give out and just the type of person you are in general, you deserve everything that's come your way. Have I ever told you how proud of you I am?" you teased, being the fact that those words leave your lips multiple times after every single one of his accomplishments.

"Never. Not once," he chuckled.

“Well, I am,” you hummed pressing a sweet kiss to his sternum, just under where his cross necklace lay, "It makes me feel so prideful that I get to call you my husband."

“Thank you, my love. You know I wouldn't be here without you.”

You rested your head on his warm chest, hugging him tighter, embracing the sweet silence before breaking it, "Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded as you looked back up at him.

“I know it's selfish but a big part of me is excited that it’s over because then I get you all to myself and don’t have to share you with the world.”

“Finally don’t have to hear you nagging for my attention all the time,” he chuckled.

“Heyyyyyy,” you whined.

“I’m joking, baby.”

You rolled your eyes teasingly.

“We have a lot to look forward to.”

“Like what?” he asked, although he knew exactly what you were referencing to, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“You becoming a daddy.”

“Really lookin forward to that. I can’t wait ‘till you have a cute little baby bump.”

“Gotta get me pregnant first.”

"You don't gotta worry 'bout that. We’re gonna be goin' at it all day every day when we’re on holiday next month,” he smirked.

“I can't even explain to you how excited I am for that. Vacation Harry is my favorite Harry."

He grinned, “I love you, Y/N."

“I love you too.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a few sweet kisses before you hummed sleepily, “Will you come back to bed with me now?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #hslot #fluff #harry fluff #one direction fluff #harry styles fluff

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oneforthemunny · 5 months

Text

definitely not a blurb that i made when i was studying. oh no, not that because i'm a good girl who studies and stays on task and does not at all get distracted and did not self reflect with this one in the least bit not me <3

"ethnographic fallacy." eddie snorts lightly, a ringed hand splayed out on your textbook, fingertip tracing over the highlighted word. "the hell does that mean?"

"it's like a stereotype but for research- don't distract me right now." you huff, highlighter in one hand, pen in the other, tongue caught between your teeth, writing out long scribbled words onto the notebook.

eddie huffed lightly. "you gonna be done anytime soon? i wanna go get something to eat."

"i'm busy."

"you've been studying all day." eddie frowned.

"it's finals, ed. i have to study." you mutter, mind far removed from him. you were too busy, zoned back into your work.

"you should probably, i dunno, take a break." eddie's eyes scanned your features, your eyes that didn't meet his, scanning across your textbook instead. "your brain's gonna explode."

"'m fine. can you just- can you let me study?" your voice is tight, teetering on the edge of annoyed. "let me finish this. i'm almost done."

two hours later and you still weren't done. brow creased in frustration, index card in two sloppy piles, finger tapping while you muttered to yourself, quizzing yourself. eddie had brought you a burger, set it next to you, but you had barely taken a bite.

"why don't you let me help you?" eddie leant against the doorframe, pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips. "i can quiz you."

"ok," you relented with a sigh, and eddie was grateful. you were tired, burnt out, he could tell. "it's just that one pile. i keep missing it."

"alright," eddie sank into the chair next to you. "uh, ok- ethical dilemma in qualitative field research?"

your lips twisted, pencil rapidly tapping against the notebook. "that's... that's keeping their identity confidential."

"no," eddie's eyes rounded carefully, peering at you over the index card. "it's telling subjects about the study. says something too... scientific dilemma?"

"fuck," you groaned, throwing your head back gently. "i'm never gonna pass. i'm fucking done for."

"hey, c'mon," eddie kicked your chair lightly with his foot. "look, you just gotta, uh, figure out ways to remember it. like hook it to something in your mind."

"hook it?" you groan, hand rubbing across your forehead. "like relate it?"

"that's it." eddie nodded. "that's the word i was looking for." he grinned, bright and dimply, it made your heart skip. "so like with this, it's field, right? and you've gotta be ethical and tell them you're studying them or they might field upset, get it?"

your lips curl slightly, dull eyes meeting eddie's, the tiniest spark of life returning to them, leaving his hear skipping. "that's actually really good." you grin.

eddie tucks his chin down, shuffling through the cards, trying to hide his blush. he quizzed you on a few more, sneaking the first card back into his pile. "ethical dilemma in a qualitative field study?"

you smile. "you have to tell them about the study, or they'll field bad."

eddie laughs lightly, nodding. "atta girl. good job, baby."

you blush, pulling at the sleeves of your hoodie, heart racing in your chest lightly. a few days later, you return, smile wide and clutching your test in your hand proudly. he takes you out for a celebratory meal at benny's. then has his own celebratory meal when you're spread out on the bed, his face buried between your thighs, showing you just how proud he is of you.

#oneforthemunny #oneforthemunny blurbs #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb

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crowborn666-writes · 1 year

Text

Care

(Depressions kicking my ass so I’m back again with therapy Dadzawa. Dunno why it took me so long to realize there’s MHA Wikis, but they’re a lifesaver.)

Shota Aizawa x Teen!Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Platonic

Summary: The hole just seems to get deeper and deeper, but your new teacher seems determined to pull you back out.

CW/TW: mentions of bad past, reader feeling guilty about eating, mentions/descriptions of anxiety, Mineta (he doesn’t do anything, he just exists 🙄)

Other info: reader has a established quirk(one I see myself having tbh, I call it Shadow Morph), possibly poorly written sparring scenes

~~~~~~

“You haven’t eaten.”

“Not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since we brought you here.” He pressed, voice and actions gentle as he scooted the plate a few inches closer to you. A part of him wanted to cross his arms, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well with you, so he kept them loose and resting across his knees.

“…Not hungry.” You spoke again, albeit a bit more hesitant this time, your eyes flitting across the light meal that was set in front of you.

Shota could only let out a worried, exasperated sigh. The police were good at their job sure, but with you they had their suspicions pointed in the completely wrong direction.

Simply, you’d been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Where you were trying to avoid the villains in the area, the ones who were on the scene thought you were with them.

It took Shota a long time to get them off your back, even longer to convince them to let you go with him.

You had recently graduated middle school, and in one of your less pressuring conversations with him, had told him how you applied to a hero school and was denied. How your parents weren’t exactly the best. How you felt you didn’t fit in with anyone, and the few friends you did have left you once school was done.

Basically, you were stuck on where to go, practically in a pit made of loneliness and unknown directions.

He thought back to those conversations, wondering just how deep this hole you’re in went. Clearly, it was worrying, if you were seeming guilty about eating.

“…You said you wanted to be a hero?” He piped up quietly, watching your fingers begin to inch towards the plate.

He didn’t press further on the subject of food, knowing even a few millimeters of movement towards it was still progress.

“Yeah… even if it’s a support or underground hero. Wanna help people.” You mumbled, tentatively picking up one of the banana slices and taking a small nibble.

The small bit of relief took some of the tension out of Shota’s aching shoulders.

“What would you say to joining one of my students’ classes? You can show off your abilities there.”

“Don’t you have an extra student to train already though…?”

“I do,” Shota’s smile at seeing you finally eat a bit more stayed hidden behind his scarf, but it definitely met his eyes, “but his progress is going smoothly enough to where I don’t have to always watch him during his training, and if your abilities are good enough you can train with each other and grow even more.”

You nodded quietly, eyeing the buttered toast that had been made for you with a bit of hesitance, wondering if you’d be able to stomach it.

Shota then stood from the table, movements careful as to not startle you.

“Eat what you can, I won’t push any more today. In the meantime I’ll fix up the couch for you.”

“Thank you.” Your quiet call following out of the kitchen, your fingers picking up the slice of toast you’d been eyeing.

Your night was fitful, to say the least. The unfamiliar environment and uncomfortable couch made it hard to fall asleep and stay asleep. You sworn in your half-asleep haze at least two times Shota had wandered over to glance over the back of the couch to check on you, one time even adjusting your blanket that had gotten tangled in your tossing and turning.

Somehow, though, you’d managed to fall asleep for more than twenty minutes. You awoke later to the sound of Shota in the kitchen, the sound of a coffee maker reaching your ears. Rolling over, you glared at the clock on the coffee table, reading 6:20 in the morning.

Figuring trying to fall back asleep would be fruitless, you sat up, rubbing at your tired eyes as you stood to wander into the kitchen.

“Morning.” Shota spoke as he turned to you, placing a granola bar on the counter for you before he turned to grab a mug from the cabinet.

“Good mornin’.” You yawned, not thinking twice as you grabbed the granola bar off the counter. Next thing you knew, Shota had a glass of water next to you, turning to pour his cup of coffee.

Your anxiety had crawled up to your neck as you and Shota walked towards a building called Gym Gamma. Shota explained that students often trained there with Ectoplasm and Cementoss, since the Pro Heroes could create concrete structures and fake Ectoplasm’s for them to practice against.

You were dreading the possibility of a grand entrance as Shota opened the gym doors. You trailed behind him, and despite him not making any sort of announcement to get his students’ attention, all eyes naturally fell to him.

Oh god, were you pale? Were you sweating bullets or is it just hot in the gym? You had to be sweating bullets and pale as a sheet. Your entire body was tense and—

“Alright class, I need your attention for a few.”

You already have their attention!

You watched with trembling hands and a gaze that soon locked onto a very specific pebble that had been dragged in as the class of about twenty students all gathered around, their attention wavering between their teacher and you.

“This is (Y/n). They’re going to join today’s class to show off their abilities, to see if they’re good enough to join the hero course.”

A rough voice called out, your gaze flickering up to spot a blond with a rather annoyed look on his face. “Does this school really have time for this stranger?”

Before your thoughts could drag you further into your metaphorical pit, Shota spoke up almost instantly.

“As heroes we should not only save people from disasters, but we should try to help them in low points of their lives. If they aren’t cut for the hero course, we will find something else for them to strive to achieve.”

No one else heard it, but from your right you could’ve sworn you heard Ectoplasm mumble something about Aizawa being a softie.

One by one, you were introduced to the class, all except for a very short, purple haired boy. But you didn’t say anything, figuring there was a reason given Sero immediately slapped some tape over his mouth just as he opened it.

One student rose her hand, Tsuyu, if you recalled correctly. “May I ask about your quirk?”

“Oh good call, Tsu!” Denki piped up, “I wanna know too!”

From Shota’s gentle prompting, along with the kind gazes of Izuku, Ochako and a few others, you began to explain your quirk to them.

Without your quirk, you’d be too slow, too weak to be much of use. But with how you’ve developed your quirk, you were able to push and pull yourself and others to your advantage.

You could create shadowy tendrils from your back or limbs, able to pull and push yourself as needed, able to wrap others up to restrain or throw them. With enough focus and energy, you could even slip through shadows, adding to your dexterity.

Your voice would waver, going in and out with volume, your mind hissing with all the words people told you about your quirk.

Not very heroic.

Scary or worrisome.

Too dark.

You didn’t say those thoughts out loud, of course, but they were instantly swept away when Izuku started rambling.

“That’s so cool! Are you able to morph your entire body into shadow or just parts of it? Can you move only through shadow that way or can you move anywhere? Is it like Tokoyami’s quirk where light—“

“Midoriya.” Shota cut him off, the green-haired boy giving a sheepish smile as a few others sighed in unison.

“Sorry, Mr. Aizawa.”

You figured this was a daily occurrence.

It wasn’t long after that the training resumed, the students easily falling back into their routine. Shota had you go up against one of Ectoplasm’s copies, just for you to warm up and get used to using your quirk in a fighting style rather than an aid like at home.

You were too focused on blocking or dodging attacks to really notice a few students glancing your way, not even Shota’s, who no doubt had his gaze moreso on you than anyone else.

After your warmup, you turned as Shota called out. “Asui. I’d like you to pair up with (Y/n).”

Nervousness rising, you watched as Tsuyu hopped down from the cement towers, right down next to you.

“(Y/n), Asui’s here is fairly quick with her movements, I want you to try your hand at capture. Asui, I want you to do your best at dodging and blocking (Y/n)’s attacks.”

“Got it, Mr. Aizawa!” She replied, turning to you with a smile and a soft ribbit, “Good luck to you!”

“G-Good luck to you too!” You stammered, getting into stance as she hopped a distance away from you.

“Go.”

Shota wasn’t lying when he said Tsuyu was fast, it was like she was made of water almost, or as slippery as a frog. Just when you thought you had her in a grip, she found some way to wriggle out of it or dodge at the last minute.

You had a thought then, wondering if you could fake her out somehow. You sent your shadows towards her, like you had been doing, and right before she jumped you opened them like a cage that surrounded her from all sides.

You knew she could probably slip through, but this was your best bet right now.

She aimed to jump upwards, between two shadows above her head, and thinking fast you clamped down like a venus fly trap.

A startled “ribbit!” left her as you held her upside down, arms trapped to her sides.

After your surprisingly successful capture of Tsuyu, Shota had you up against Sero next.

“You said you were able to push and pull yourself, right?” He called up to you, looking a bit small from atop the cement tower you were on. “I want you to do just that, and either evade or fight back against Sero, who’s job for this mock fight is to capture you.”

You glanced around, finding yourselves on the higher cement towers, everyone else either still training or watching from below.

At Shota’s call, Sero immediately dove into action, shooting tape to try and ensnare you. You were quick to jump away, backing out of his reach, your shadows helping you cling to your surroundings.

Now it was your turn to be quick on your feet, thoughts running a mile a minute as you had to both evade Sero and keep track of where you were going.

Suddenly he was in front of you, and in two quick tugs, your shadows pulled you behind him. He recovered faster than you expected him to, finding yourself suddenly wrapped up in tape and dangling.

“Not bad.” Shota spoke, watching as Sero carefully lowered you to the ground. “Even though Sero has a lot of practice in capture, you evaded him longer than I expected.”

You took the praise with red cheeks, a little embarrassed by it all.

A few other students wanted to train with you after that, especially Midoriya, but unfortunately you needed to rest, and so spent the rest of the class period watching them all.

“You did good today.” Shota spoke up as you walked back to your temporary housing with him.

“You mean it…?”

“I mean it.” He glanced back at you and caught your gaze for a short moment, just long enough to emphasize his point before turning away. “A lot of my students wanted you to come back and join them in the second year. If you’re up for it, you can join the hero course with Shinsou.”

You found yourself smiling. “Guess I got a lot of training to do now, huh?”

Shota was smiling as well, even if you couldn’t see it. “That, and you got a lot of people who care about you now as well.”

#mha #bnha #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #mha shota aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #teen!reader #aizawa x teen!reader #platonic #aizawa x student reader #aizawa x gender neutral reader #gn!reader

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

Note

Hi!! I wanted to ask a reader with abusive parents and the main 4 reacting to this

Sure thing!

National child abuse hotline: 800-422-4453 / National domestic violence hotline: 800-799-7233

TW for (implied) abuse!!

South Park - Main Four With a Partner Who Has Abusive Parents

Stan

He understands the struggle

Honestly he’d be the best out of the four to vent to about this, he can absolutely empathize

And you can empathize with him when he needs to vent

You also share tricks that you use to avoid the abuse

Whenever it gets to be too much, you both sneak out and meet at Stark Pond

You don’t always talk when this happens, because sometimes you just need some silence and a hand to hold

Oftentimes you’ll vouch for each other in public when you try to hide it

And you’ll help change the subject

“Oh, that bruise? I just fell down the stairs.”

“Yeah, I was there. Okay, new subject—”

But deep down you both know the truth

If/when you finally decide to tell someone about what’s going on at home, you have a pact to do it together

Kyle

He invites you over a lot just to get you away from home

And when he walks you home he goes veerrry slow

He’s constantly reminding you that you can always come to his place whenever you need

When you vent to him, he SEETHES

He HATES your parents

He has refused to meet them on multiple occasions

“Wanna come inside for a snack?”

“Are your parents home?”

“I think so.”

“Then no.”

Will absolutely indulge you in making “hypothetical” plots to violently murder them

He wants you to get help, but won’t push you

He has offered to help you speak up about it though

In the meantime he just wants to always be there for you and offer a safe space

Kenny

He also empathizes with what you’re going through

He knows his house isn’t that much better, but he’ll still invite you over when you need to get away

Goofing off with him and Karen usually cheers you up

If that doesn’t do the trick, Kenny loves to cuddle you while you vent

It does make him sad, but he just holds you tighter and reiterates how much he cares for you

“I’m so sorry baby. You don’t deserve that. You deserve the world.”

The few times he’s been around your parents, you’ve noticed him glaring at them with clenched fists

He really wants to punch them

He won’t though, he knows that’ll just make it worse for you

Whenever you tell him something particularly shocking, he tries to convince you to get help

Gets a little frustrated when you decline, but knows that you’ll do it when you’re ready

He just doesn’t like seeing you suffer :(

Cartman

Out of the main four, he empathizes the least with your situation

Genuinely doesn’t understand why you “let” it continue

“Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“It’s not that simple, Eric.”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

“…Do what?”

“Kill them. Torture them. Whatever. I dunno.”

“Pfff—”

Unfortunately, he’s more bark than bite; if you agree to let him “help,” he’ll most likely chicken out when he actually meets your parents

When he bosses his mom around, he’ll tell you to take some notes

This both baffles and amuses you

He’ll only ask you to get professional help once; he’ll drop it if you decline

He’ll listen to you vent, but the most he can do in terms of comfort is say “that’s stupid/messed up” and give you snacks

He does use your situation as an excuse to have you over like. All the time

Thank you for this request! And thanks for reading, stay safe guys <33

National child abuse hotline: 800-422-4453 / National domestic violence hotline: 800-799-7233

(divider by saradika)

#south park #south park headcanons #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #stan x reader #kenny mcormick #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #tw abuse #abuse tw

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tacobellabeanburrito · 1 month

Note

hello this is Anon again. could you please direct me to your favorite Ace Attorney fics? I’ve read pretty much all the popular ones so I’m looking for some more niche ones :) thank you!!

Oh Anon… You sweet, sweet summer child. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.

I was already planning on doing an Ace Attorney fic rec list because I wanted to share some of my favorite ones (A lot of the ones I read aren’t on many of the regular fic rec lists, so I wanted to share some ones that I feel like are really good and maybe don’t get enough recognition) So I am very glad you asked Anon, gives me reason to actually continue on my fic rec list! I love sharing my favorite fics!

Most of them are Narumitsu, couple are Krisnix, and some are both. Also a couple stragglers out there without a ship as well. There will also be some smut ones (Don’t judge please lmao) (Also, just saying. There’s no good Krisnix in this fic list, all of it is seen as toxic, I ship them as Toxic Tragic Yuri and they’re not good as a real relationship. Just a disclaimer)

Some will have big blurbs about them from me explaining their plot a little and what I like about them. For others, I’ll just post them because I don’t really feel like talking about them in detail. But I promise they’re all good!

I’m not going to link them this time, cause I dunno how to do that without making a huge mess cause there’s so many and I don’t want my post to be wonky. And I’m also not going to categorize them because I’m eepy and didn’t get enough sleep last night, so you can figure it out yourself Anon lmao.

(But if you can’t find any, please tell me I’ll help)

So, without further ado… Here are my fic recs!

Fics:

Perfect by Sideblog: My absolute, all time favorite AA fic! Ever! Literally ever! I don't really wanna talk about the plot because that basically spoils the whole thing and I don't wanna do that to you, you just gotta read it! It is beautifully written and has an amazing concept that I would never think of in a million years! Seriously, so criminally underrated to the point of I have no idea how it doesn’t have like 15,000 hits on A3O. Even though I didn't explain much of the plot, just know that it is incredible and absolutely worth a read. I come back to it sometimes to read it because IT IS THAT GOOD. When I first saw this fic I didn’t really know what to expect because there weren’t any warnings or practically anything. Very mysterious fic. So glad I read it, though. When you get done reading this Anon, you gotta tell me what you think.

El Capo A Fine by tellezara: There’s something incredible about specialized Au fics in which you can tell that despite whatever the Au fic is about, the writer has an absolute love for the subject. This one is about musical instruments and Ace Attorney characters being part of an orchestra, and you can tell that this person has done orchestra before (Or at least thoroughly researched it and has a love for it) because they put in so many facts and interesting tidbits about instruments and the orchestra world that I never knew about and I loved learning about all of it. Fics like these are very special in my opinion because those people write it out of pure love for whatever the subject is and whatever the fandom is. Anyway, fic good. (Makes me wanna write an Ace Attorney choir fic, that’s my speciality)

The Miraculous Disappearance of Phoenix Wright by JJsADragon: Was on a road trip when I first read this and literally could NOT. STOP. READING. HAD ME GRIPPED. EDGE OF CARSEAT. The whole plot is basically a parody of "It's A Wonderful Life" where Phoenix ends up in a universe where he was never born. Which, as you can guess, causes a myriad of problems for the legal world and world in general. I had no idea where the plot was going, didn't know how it was going to end, and WAS TERRIFIED. But. I kept reading anyway. IT IS THAT GOOD.

Miles Edgeworth: The Ace Attorney by Charybdia: I SPENT AGES. AGES. Looking for a good, finished Ace Attorney roleswap fic. And when I found this one I STRUCK GOLD. SWEAR IT. Amazing, love this one. Still come back to it. IT’S GOT OBNOXIOUS THEATRE KID PHOENIX WRIGHT, HOW CAN I NOT LOVE IT? It also is accompanied by art Also, also, We get good friend Larry Butz. WHAT MORE COULD YOU ASK FOR?

Carpe Diem (make your lives extraordinary by Elysya): A high school Au featuring theater kid Phoenix, debate kid Miles and third wheel Larry. I loved this one. It’s also just super interesting. The developing relationship between Phoenix and Miles is one that I really like as they’re both messy teenagers and really gotta work out their flaws if they wanna be together.

Begone Dull Care by VivaRockSteady: A good Au fic surrounding patient Miles and nurse Phoenix. Goes into good detail about recovering from suicide and depression, and recovering from other mental health issues. Also check out some of the other fics by this writer. One is an Au of the Truman Show and the other is a Roman/Greek Au that I found incredibly interesting.

if you leave the light on by AngstinSpace: A very good fic. I was reading this one in my study hall and my teacher was playing calming piano music that was kinda sad/melancholic and I started tearing up in class because I was feeling all the emotions. Girl this is good, go read it.

I used to think people were good but now I just think they’re people by thebirdsandtheboxes: SEVERELY UNDERRATED. Super good and goes very in-depth into Phoenix’s disbarment period and how he and his friends and family react. Also has some good Asexual!Miles moments.

This man is not your boyfriend by its_ok_inside: AN AMAZING FIC CENTERING AROUND PHOENIX HAVING AMNESIA AND MILES HELPING HIM DEAL WITH IT. Hilarious. Super funny. I love it. Also is accompanied by some artwork. FUCK YEAH THIS FIC. A classic.

Surviving You by pantswarrior: I’m pretty sure this is an older fic that got moved, and it kinda shows that in its writing (Yk those fics that you can tell were written in the 2000s/early 2010s based on their vocabulary and thoughts on gay relationships? Kinda like that) but it’s good. Very good.

A False Start by theacegrace: A phenomenal fic centered around Bratworth!Miles meeting Feenie!Phoenix and Miles praying that Phoenix doesn’t get accused of murder when he sees Phoenix with Dahlia. Loved this one so much and came back to it a couple times.

Chicago Noel by canonlacrush: A classic. There used to be an Au a while back that everyone was obsessed with and it was a bakery/mafia Au. I wish there were more fics that catered to that Au but they’re hard to find. Anyway, this one is great.

Maybe In Time You’ll Want To Be Mine by YourAverageBystander: A time loop fic that I absolutely adore. Y’all really gotta key in on these Ace Attorney time loop/time travel fics, there’s a couple in here. THEY ARE A TREASURE.

Turnabout Sole by CollaboralDamage: An awesome bodyswap fic. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO FIND BODY SWAP FIC IN THIS FANDOM?! And this one is good. Very good. Liked it a lot.

Shared Work Space by nerdyskeleton: I think the fic’s summary works best here “It was the best of times, it was the worst of time when Miles Edgeworth discovers he likes to be called Daddy”.

Shear Luck by TopazEstrella: One that I didn’t really know what to think of when I first kept seeing it on my search for Narumitsu fics, but I’m very glad I read it. It’s different, but I like it. Has some Krisnix in it.

The Illusion Of Control by Ekat: Amazing. Loved it. Takes place in an alternate universe where Miles died and Gregory didn’t. Has a lot of found family dynamics featuring Mr. Edgeworth, Phoenix and Ray.

Tight Lesh by Ensiy: I come back to this one often. One of the only fics that has good Kristoph and Miles interaction. They’re both catty bitches to each other. Has some Krisnix in it.

Out of Order by canolacrush: A super cute fic where Miles gets a haircut and Phoenix gets a crush. I re-read it a lot because it’s super cute and really fluffy.

With The Phases Of The Moon by Puddor: One I come back to often for a couple of moments. Really love it. One of the good Werewolf!Phoenix and Vampire!Miles fics.

You Ever Been In Love? by hechima: Loved this one a lot. We love the Wright gang trying to matchmake. A classic in terms of AA fics and for good reason.

Observe and Record by MAVEfm: An introspective Miles fic detailing him and his personal journal. I really like this one. Has some Krisnix in it.

Pressing Pursuit ~ Cornered by viviaciousbarkbeast: Love this one. I think this was one of the first AA fics I’ve read. Has some Krisnix in it.

That Man by Sunshine_And_Starlight: A really good fic. It has one of my favorite tropes and I come back to it for certain moments that I really like and wanna read again.

A Badge Of Honor by sunsmasher: Really loved this one. I also come back to re-read it cause it’s just so funny and awkward and hilarious.

Awkward Business by hechima: I’m a sucker for this trope! You’ll see what I mean when you read it. It’s all gold! I still come back to this one.

wait (they don’t love you like I love you) by Samioli: Super good fic detailing Miles finding out about all Phoenix’s past relationships.

parallelogram by zombiekittiez: Such a slay fic, has a strange premise at first BUT we get Shakespeare references so that’s a big plus.

All There Is by sunsmasher: Loved it. A really good look into Krisnix as a relationship and dealing with sexual trauma.

London, 2021 by syailendra: Has a lot of good moments. I come back to this one a lot. Has some Krisnix in it.

Sketched Memories by gen: LOVED THIS ONE. OBSESSED. You just gotta read it. It’s a recent one but VERY GOOD.

Archaeology by sunsmasher: Everyone eats pizza, and truamadumps. Just a typical day at the Wright Anything Agency.

Dancer In The Dark by klaviersimp: Ahhh, I love this fic a lot. It holds a special place in my heart. Little suggestive but I like it.

dig my nails into the wound by gavinnersworldtour: A very good Krisnix fic. Delicious. I love this one.

Temptation by crayoncompanion: An interesting one that I can’t help but really love.

Hot, Sticky, Sweet by mutxnts: A really good fic. I CRAVE a continuation but it’s a one-shot.

Sin. Eater by potatomin: A very good Demon!Miles and Angel!Phoenix fic. Makes you want more.

romance is not dead (if you keep it just yours) by Samioli: This one was just sweet. I liked it a lot.

just desserts by riskphee: YES. YES. Love this one. I still come back to read it.

Thrown Through A Loop by savitaraandsigh: Another time loop fic that I absolutely adore.

From The Top by lazynina: Another Time loop fic that I absolutely adore.

Bespoke by Demus: We love suit kinks.

That Goddamned Idiot That Is Phoenix Wright by fyrebyrd_fta

Kleptomania by Ekat

Working Hazard by lilacSkye

caught in the act by Samioli

I’ll Cover You by nerd4fandoms

my rapt heart by griffonage

Bad dream, good time by notlikelybutpossible

Series:

7 years under the bridge: A series surrounding Phoenix’s fall and his relationships with Miles and Kristoph respectively.

7 year ache: Another series surrounding Phoenix’s fall and his relationships with Miles and Kristoph respectively.

And that’s most of them! There’s definately more, but those are the ones that really made an impression on me and that I think about a lot (And also the ones I could find easily without having to check every one of my bookmarks) You can find more that way if you want though! By looking through my bookmarks on A3O that is. That’s what I do sometimes with other A3O members and it’s worked out well (Look for the Buddy Daddies fics in my bookmarks, that’s where most of them start but definitely check my bookmarks, there’s a couple good ones I can’t find at the moment that I know are in there). But I also recommend doing your own research too, it doesn’t seem like fun but when you end up finding one of the hidden gem fics it’s totally worth it.

Here’s some advice, buddy, try to start at the beginning, like go all the way down to the last folder on A3O, but maybe first search for an AA tag that you know will have a smaller fic pool and go from there. And when you find an author you like, try and check out if they have some other AA fics. Most of the writers of the fics I have recommended have more Ace Attorney fics in their arsenal that I’ve read and enjoyed and just didn’t wanna put on here, so check them out!

Btw Anon, if you want the more… Darker fics that I like (There aren’t many, but there’s a couple) DM me because I don’t wanna give those out publicly since it just makes me sorta uncomfy and I don’t want others to be uncomfy. This also goes for smuttier fics that I don’t feel like sharing at the moment.

Sorry if this was a lot Anon, I just love fanfiction, it’s definately one of the more interesting art forms out there, and think a lot of the ones I read deserve to be shared!

(Oh, also, I write fics too Anon. Check out my AA fic if you wanna. Sorry to self-promote but I promise it’s cute!!)

Anyway, that’s all! Goodnight everybody!

#ace attorney #Narumitsu #mitsunaru #Phoenix wright #miles Edgeworth #ace attorney fic rec #fic rec #kristoph gavin #Krisnix #Wrightworth #worthwright #edgewright #kirinaru #kriswright #ace attorney fic #Phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney fics

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precious-little-scoundrel · 29 days

Note

i was thinking about what late night talks with bucky would be like (call me crazy), and it got me thinking:

other than dying (though arguably some are not afraid of dying), what do you think some of the mota men’s greatest fears are? i could write a hundred essays on each of them, they all are so different!

Gosh, this is an incredible ask and it got me thinkin. Too hard, probably. And while I didn’t summarize thoughts for everyone I did think of them for Bucky.

So much so I wrote a little blurb on it. Sorry Nonnie if you’re not even into this universe, I totally get it but I found fic to be a more enlightening method for exploring this. I wanna hear those thoughts of yours! Send them, I beg!

Greatest Fear

They got a bit existential as the weeks went on and their nights got more conscious. Ida and Bucky’s minds grew restless in the cold now that their bodies were healing. Huddled in their bunk they had debated baseball vs football endlessly, and argued regarding the accuracy of each other’s training anecdotes, the morality of mobsters and who was the better boxer: Braddock or Baer.

They’d ended up talking of the war, and both being sick of the dead end that the question of the future brought, they circled back around more concrete -if troublesome- thoughts. Most hairy landings, worst sounds either heard from their crew over the radio and what flashed across their minds when they had to finally press that abandon ship control.

And finally, Bucky ended up asking her what her worst fear was. And when Ida didn’t have it readily to hand -too used to suppressing any such thoughts even to her own self- he clarified: “Besides dying, I mean. If you’re even scared of that. Knowin’ you, maybe you aren’t.”

“I’d rather not.” she admitted.

“So? So what gets you scared?”

“This your way of fishing for another ghost story?” Ida teased.

“No. Just feels like sometimes you gotta remind yourself what it’s all about. Scared of dyin’ means you like livin’ enough to rather not stop. That sorta thing.”

“You’re saying love for one thing drives fear for another.” She summarized.

“Dunno. Just mullin’ it over.”

“I’d go through anything not to lose John.” she conceded, “Funny enough I’m positive he feels the same, so what a snarl.”

“I know he does.”

“Yeah.”

“If they put a gun to Buck’s head I’d tell ‘em Roosevelt's address and his favorite drink order, too.” Bucky expounded, tongue loosened by her tiny admission of frailty. “And he’d hate me for it.”

“All different kinds of loves out there.” Ida murmured consolingly, thinking hard on how her brother had been in a rage at her condition when he first saw her, and yet one of his first questions was whether she’d given anything up. Her Johnny knew she couldn’t live with herself if she had and he wouldn't've wanted her to. And nothing about that struck her as cold. Just as Bucky’s dangerous devotion to Gale didn’t strike her as weak. Just different.

“I saw a train.” Bucky began a thought but his voice died out with such finality Ida wondered if he’d ever pick the subject up again. But after a long moment he did, with some far away quality present in his voice that she’d never heard before, “On the way here. We were on one set of tracks and it was comin’ up the other.”

Ida had memories of trains, a lot of them. Going south all alone, first trip down to the uncle and aunts during the worst year of the depression. Old enough to know her own folks couldn’t support her, old enough to question how a ticket could be arranged but not supper. There had been trains that took her to training in Texas, then on to Iowa and Nebraska. Trains that took her deeper into Germany. One entire train car just for herself and too many German soldiers. Then the train that took them away from Ravensbruck. Ida felt an unsettled anticipation around trains that the peaceful rightness of flight had never caused her.

When Bucky mentioned trains and didn’t go on, Ida folded her hand into his huge one and squeezed it tightly. “What about those trains, John?”

“Heard ‘em before we saw ‘em.” he clarified, nodding his head conversationally as he was want to do, like he was gaining momentum towards a hard saying. Ida braced herself, squeezed just a little harder. “Not the engines, the screams. Car after car, and nothin’ but arms and faces reachin’ out. Screaming.”

Bucky’s bruised eyes were fixed, downcast gaze somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, but Ida knew he was seeing something far away. “I think I saw where they take them.” she muttered before she even had time to weigh her contribution to this horrid tale.

His eyes focused again and he looked at her with silent inquiry. “They took us to a labor camp first. Before here. Apparently one of the nicer ones, they had intentions of treating us as civilians.” Ida had been preoccupied with her aching body and her sharp terror of failure while at Ravensbruck, but not so much as to not notice the haunting vestiges of humanity answering roll beside her. “I felt like I was in Hades, the cold hell. Where the living damned can peruse each special misery waiting for them when they die. Called it a labor camp but I don’t know how skeletons like that could produce anything. Last bits of human resilience used to put together some industry to keep their oppressors fed, equipped. What an end.”

“Scares me shitless.” Bucky replied vehemently, and Ida realized they’d gotten full circle in their talk, that he’d dragged more out of her than she ever intended. Somehow neither his statement of fear nor her own felt weak in the moment. “That folks could get so hard they could do that to each other -I don’t know what to do with that, Ida. How’s it get to that point. Why’ve you got Fritz and then you’ve got…that? Same country, same sauerkraut, same uniforms. Scares me shitless.”

MOTA taglist, I only have one so ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

@blikebarbie92

@luminouslywriting

@euryno-j47

@justheretoreadthhx

@bookotter01

@mads-weasley

@ka-ski

@darkestbeforethedawn16

@slowsweetlove

@richardslady121

@barbeygirl

@prfctplcsreads

@vaf24

@harrys-housewife

@claireelizabeth85

@pearlparty

@piastrinho

#Ida and Bucky snuggling and having some seriously angsty chats #but also- I’ve been long pondering what may have fucked Bucky up most about his time before the Stalag and I don’t think it was the lynchin #masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #integrated au #those who can

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hrryshoney · 2 months

Note

Gyno Matty giving you monthly exams from home because he just wants to make sure his girl is healthy!

olive u get me so bad❤️

warnings below: usual gyno!au stuff, praise, degradation, doctorly speak in bed, fingering, dirty talk, short :( not proofread :(, oral (f receiving) maybe a bit of a sneak peek for a future gyno fic..?👀

It’s not a new thing. Matty had been doing this since you started dating, and to say you didn’t like it would be a lie. It really made him slip into his headspace. The dominate one, where he was in charge. The one where you relentlessly obeyed him. How he would examine you as a patient, and you would answer everything he said with his honorific after.

Right now. his head was laying on the crease of your thigh where your legs opened. Head so close to your cunt, and his curls tickling the naked expanse of your stomach. “Anything out of the ordinary, princess? You would tell me, right?” You were already worked up. He had your pussy exposed to the open air for what felt like hours. Rambling about how he needed to give you your monthly look, as if he didn’t see you every night.

You let out a sharp breath, inhaling again when he looked up at you. Peering over from the lens of his glasses. “Yes, Doctor. Everything’s okay, promise.” Your voice was breathy, and you could see your chest rising and falling as you tried to look down at him. His fingers trailing up from your legs to your stomach, passing the place you needed him most.

His digits went to your cunt, tracing through your glistening folds and rubbing circles on your clit. Matty’s fingers ran against your slit again, smirking when you squirmed. “Get so wet when I rub you like that. That’s good, baby. Means you’re healthy. Bodily reflexes and all.” You knew he was bullshitting. The way his hand came up from holding your other thigh to gesture in the air, and the boyish expression on his face. He just wanted to watch you squirm.

“Doctor, please.” You bucked in embarrassment. The way he was treating you more like a subject, like you didn’t know your own body. He slipped his middle finger inside of your hole, curling it before pulling out. He pinched your clit, and your whole back came off the bed. Arching with your feet planted.

“Mhm, be good for me.” He applied light pressure to your abdomen with his palm, pushing you back down. Without warning, he slapped your cunt with three fingers. You gasped, throwing your head back. Matty went back to rubbing tight circles on your clit. “You’re so sensitive, baby. Look how needy this little pussy gets when I touch you like that.” You felt yourself get even more slick at his words, a pressure building in your stomach and moans spilling from your mouth. “What if I lick you out, huh? Should I try that? See what results I get.”

You cried out, feeling Matty’s tongue lick around your cunt. He was avoiding where you needed the pressure, not allowing you to fall over the edge. You tried to close your legs around his head, but his strong hand held you back. “God, yes. Need it so bad. Just wanna be a good patient for you, Doctor.” Your hand came to tug on his curls, the other twisting in the bed sheets.

“M’sure you do. Cunts fuckin’ drooling for me.” His fingers slapped your clit again, and he stuck two fingers inside your hole now. His tone was condescending, and you almost felt the smugness radiating off of him while you adjusted to the stretch of his fingers. “Dunno how you’re able to take my cock. So tight for me.” You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, almost riding his hand at this point. “Have to stretch you out. Might need to use special tools for that.” The tease rolled off his lips easily.

Then, you felt his tongue again. Matty licked a bold stripe up your slit, teeth grazing your clit. His fingers pumped inside of you at the same time the muscle moved around your cunt. He pulled up slightly, and spit directly onto you. Sucking on your clit and curling his fingers. “Feels so fucking good. I need to cum.”

You’ve felt the feeling building inside of you, pleasure coursing through your veins. You felt hot all over, and you needed to release. Matty’s hands only sped up, his lips pursing around you more. When you brought yourself to open your eyes, you saw his muss of curls between your legs. His free hand caressed the junction of your hip, scraping his blunt nails over your skin. “Can cum whenever you want, princess. Gotta make sure you’re healthy, that everything’s working.”

You didn’t know how he still had the every to be a little shit. But, his words only egged you on. Matty’s fingers hit a spot deeper inside of you, and you felt white hot pleasure through your whole body. You clenched your teeth, throwing your head back. Moans coming out in gritted grunts. As you came, you felt Matty lapping up your juices. Riding you through your orgasm. “Good girl. My best girl, that’s it.”

You still felt the aftershocks, twitching slightly as Matty’s tongue cleaned you up. You could vaguely hear his voice talking you through it in the background. Your head rolled to the side on the pillow, blinking your eyes open. Matty was still between your thighs, lightly drawing circles on your legs with his fingertips. “Can you go again, princess?” He crawled up to be at head level with you, whispering in your ear. Pressing a kiss to your temple and rubbing your shoulder. His hand came down again to rub your overstimulated clit with two fingers.

“Mhm, yes. Yes, Doctor. Still ready for you.” You nodded your head and gave him the verbal consent he was looking for. Your hips twitched wildly on the bed. He smiled at you, fingers slowing down. He came to kneel on the bed and you saw the very prominent bulge in his trousers.

“S’good. Because my little patient’s not done with her check up yet. Gotta make sure this cunt can still take cock, right?”

#gyno!au #i hope yall like smut❤️#bc obviously i’m in a whoreish mood #my blurbs are so short but it’s ok!! bc i like it

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archie-sunshine · 3 months

Note

How do you feel about bumblebee? I know some see him as a child and I didn’t wanna come in your ask box looking like a p3do 😅

Personally I see him as a kid but also the fact that in g1 he’s like- 32. I dunno I wanted your opinion on it bc you’re one of my favorite artists!

I think he's an adult. like in most(all except for maybe tf gogo??? he looks very baby in that) continuities, he's a full grown man who's like- in the military? I feel like it'd be weirder that there was a kid in the military than fuckin a slightly immature man. tbh, though I LOVE bumblebee in everything he's in, he's not my personal favourite for fragging, that would be pinkanon's doing, but yeah.

I try to stay out of discourse as much as I can but again, the cybertronians come out fully grown with complete sense of self and awareness(with the exception of the terrans those are babies) in most continuities, and furthermore even if that werent the case they are almost always depicted as being several MILLION years old. We can talk about intent, and we can talk about 'child coding' but I'll be honest, as a fully grown man myself, I don't think it's super productive to waffle over the fuckability of a cartoon robot who's old enough in his culture to be a soldier.

AGain, I don't want to get involved in discourse, i've already been called a pedophile once before and if anyone does that again i'll be really fuckin upset. I think all media is up to personal interpretation, but it's silly and ultimately a farce to impose your own views of it onto other people when it's something as subjective as the mental age of a millions of years old robot.

thanks for asking though! here's an old bumblebee from the archive for you.

#don't send me hate for this ill explode and die #archie answers #my art #transformers

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corazondebeskar-reads · 4 months

Text

you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene #1

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene #1: you don't have to go home

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 3.5k

Summary: set after the finale (like a few hours later lol) but before the epilogue. Joel catches a moderate but not life-threatening illness that forces you to tackle a subject you'd rather avoid.

Warnings: established relationship, angst, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2, poor communication, p in v, illness, anxiety, avoidance of feelings, major life decisions

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you see Tommy’s smug face at dinner, you turn on the heel of your boot to leave.

“Where’re you going?” Ellie says, coming up behind you. “You eating outside?”

“Sure, yup, that’s it,” you say, clutching your tray with both hands.

“Cool! Joel, I’m going to eat outside too,” she calls over her shoulder.

You risk a glance to see Joel looking at the two of you, brows wrinkled. He shrugs, and Tommy shakes his head at you.

“Chicken,” he mouthes.

You flip him off and go find a patch of grass to picnic on.

Ellie talks while she eats, food occasionally spraying out of her rapid-fire mouth. You’re more than happy to sit quietly and listen, to hear about the other kids she’s met and the neat things she’s found in her new room.

Your fortune doesn’t last. Tommy comes out of the hall with his hands in his pockets, still smirking.

“Ellie, why don’t you go grab some dessert?” he says as he helps himself to a seat on the ground.

“No thanks,” she says, looking between you.

“It’s pie,” he says.

“No thanks,” she says again. She puts on a very unnerving fake smile made worse by her widened eyes.

“He’s trying to get you to leave—“ you start.

She interrupts. “I know. I wanna hear whatever it is.”

“He’s trying to get you to leave so he can ask me about grownup stuff.”

Her nose crinkles as she catches on. “Ugh,” she groans and hauls herself to her feet before going inside. She takes both of your empty trays with her, and you feel a little sting of pride, however misplaced.

“So,” Tommy grins. “Nothin’ between you ‘n my brother, huh?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “Shut up.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You look up, and the smugness is gone. “What all did he tell you?”

“Just that y’all had ‘some kinda situation’ back in Boston. And that you stayed over there last night.”

You snort and shake your head. “I guess ‘some kinda situation’ is about right. I didn’t want to tell you I was fuckin’ him for rent.”

His eyes widen. “Shit.”

“Yeah. And for food, before that. Didn’t want you to think I was a whore, I guess.” You’re sitting with your legs crossed, but it doesn’t stop your knee from bouncing as you look anywhere but Tommy.

“Hey, no,” he says, leaning forward. “Look, ain’t nothin’ wrong with surviving however you got to.”

You feel a wretched sting at the corner of your eyes. He was always so goddamn genuine, but it was still hard to accept his words at their value.

He scoots over and grabs your hand. “I mean it. I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

“That why you don’t wanna move into their place?”

“What?”

“I was gonna offer to help move your stuff, but Joel said you told Ellie you were stayin’ put.”

“Do you need me to? To make room for someone?”

“No! No, you can stay. I just figured you’d want the company. And well, Joel said—“

You wait, but he pretends to be distracted by a honey bee.

“Joel said what?”

“Just, he thought you would. Since y’all lived together before, and you talked about it.”

You snort. “We talked about it? Is that what he calls our conversation from this morning?”

“I dunno. It’s Joel. You think he gave me all the details?”

“Fair. Nah, I’d like to stay on my own. Not that anyone asked me to do anything different.”

It’s then that Maria wanders out with Alé, setting her down to explore. She screws up her little face, ready to rage about being placed on her tummy before she realizes she’s somewhere fun.

Joel and Ellie come out a few moments later to find the three of you watching Alé intently. She’s given up on trying to eat the grass after several unsuccessful attempts. Her little fist would open and close, only to find herself empty-handed when she brought it to her mouth.

Now, however, she’s returned to frustration and is attempting to roll herself onto her back.

It’s not going well, but you’re all watching and encouraging her.

Ellie squats to peer down at her. “You’re like a big potato,” she says.

Joel wipes a hand down his face. “Ellie,” he warns.

“What?”

“Is that any way to talk to your cousin?”

She looks up at him, startled. “Uhh. I don’t know. I’ve never had a cousin before.” She regards Alé again. “You’re a strong potato. You can do it.”

Alé responds with a loud yell as she pushes again and then falls quiet as she finds herself flat on her back looking up at Ellie.

Her little audience cheers and claps, unfortunately startling her. Maria and Tommy shower her in praise, and you stand up, stepping back by Joel.

“You comin’ back to ours?” he says, not looking at you.

“No, not tonight.” You need the space. You’ve grown accustomed to being alone, found peace in it even, and the last two days have been a new kind of exhausting.

But you see the way his lips twitch into a scowl before he schools his face back to neutral.

“Mind walking me home?” you offer.

The tension falls just a fraction from his shoulders. “Course not,” he says. “You gotta lead the way, though.”

Tommy shoots you a look you don’t know how to interpret when you say goodnight.

“Are you going to be gross? Do I need to stay out of the house?” Ellie says far too loudly.

“Nah, you’re safe,” Joel says, shaking his head.

It’s weird. You hold hands on the walk back. It’s a quiet intimacy you’d never even considered to share with him before.

The warmth of his palm and cradle of his fingers are undeniably nice.

It’s also undeniably awkward. You stand on your porch, stiffly holding hands like he hasn’t been inside you a hundred times over.

You look up at him and appreciate the way the sunset falls across his back.

He brings his free hand up to cup the back of your head and gives you maybe the chastest kiss you’ve ever had. Certainly more than you ever thought him capable of. It kind of hurts your feelings, actually.

“What the hell was that?”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“You kissed me like I’m your grandma!”

He rolls his eyes to high heaven. “I was tryin’ to be respectful.”

“Gross. You know what? That was disrespectful. Kiss me proper, Miller.”

He’s more than happy to oblige, even though it results in the boner he was trying to avoid in the first place. He gets you pressed up against your front door with a handful of ass and your soft moans against his lips.

You break away when you hear a voice down the road and put your hand against his chest, gently pushing him back.

“Guess I should get goin’,” he says. He doesn’t move, though.

You’re all too aware of the way his cock is straining against his jeans and you almost invite him in. How you manage to find the self-control not to, you’ll never know. But it feels important, somehow, that you sleep alone tonight.

“You wanna meet up for breakfast in the morning?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says. His hands rest on your hips as he steals one last kiss. “I’ll see ya then, sweetheart.”

You can’t seem to stomach the idea of watching him walk away, so you go inside.

He waits until he hears the deadbolt click before he heads for home.

Summer withers, and autumn sees you spending the night together a couple of times a week. Always you at theirs—you never ask him over to your place. It’s a silly line you’ve drawn, and even though you know you’re the one who put it there, you feel bitter on the cold nights alone.

Worse yet, you know you’re only doing it out of stubbornness. You made a big fucking deal out of it, and now you have to stick with it so it doesn’t look like you’re weak. Like you can’t be alone. Like you need him.

And also, no one has fucking asked you to do any differently, so. Whatever.

But it’s not like you don’t know that he wants to.

No, he hasn’t asked, but he may as well have. His clothes are kept to one side of the closet. There are three empty drawers in his dresser.

His books are crammed on the top half of the shelves in the living room, stacked askew in a way you knew had to drive him crazy. The fuck you quilt hangs over the back of the sofa, though it’s more often found wrapped around Ellie.

By the first snowfall, he keeps a toothbrush for you in the medicine cabinet beside his own. There’s a Joel-shaped indent in the left side of the mattress, betraying how the right stays vacant when you’re gone.

The list goes on. The coffee mug. The little tin of vaseline for your chapped lips on the nightstand. All the spaces where nothing sits, waiting.

But he doesn’t ask.

You haven’t seen Joel for two days. It’s weird. You’re not sure how to feel about it—you’re the one who wanted space, after all. But so far, you’ve at least met at the mess hall for a meal each day.

You’re walking home after working the breakfast shift on the third day when Ellie catches up with you. You’ve seen her around but haven’t wanted to ask after Joel, not wanting her to think you only talked to her for him.

She looks nervous, though. She’s fiddling with her sleeves and won’t look at you, so you come to a stop.

“What’s going on, kiddo?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Sure, that’s not suspicious or anything.” You’re trying not to be anxious, but her energy is rubbing off.

“Look, don’t get mad; I only agreed not to because it didn’t seem like a big deal, but now it seems like a big deal—”

“Are you in trouble? Is somebody making you uncomfortable?” A thousand bad scenarios have come to life in your mind, each increasingly ridiculous but horrifying. Maybe that’s why Joel’s missing. Maybe someone laid a hand on Ellie, and he killed them. You hope he did.

“What? No,” her scoff cuts through your panic. “Joel’s sick. He didn’t want you to come by and get sick, so he made me promise not to say anything. But he’s being stupid, and now he can barely walk to the bathroom without hacking up a lu—wait, where are you going?”

“Where do you think I’m going? I’m going to give your idiot father a piece of my mind,” you growl.

She jogs to catch up with you, but her face is red, and she won’t look at you again.

Your brain catches up with your tongue, and you pause. “Hey, I didn’t mean to be weird—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Let’s go. I wanna watch you yell at him.”

You don’t. Not right away, at least. He’s asleep when you get there, and honestly, it’s a little upsetting how unwell he looks. It kind of shakes the anger right out of you.

You promise Ellie you’ll wait for her to come home to yell at him.

The idea of climbing into bed with him is extremely tempting. Instead, you start to draw warm water for a bath and tidy up the things left behind in the wake of his deteriorating condition.

It’s not much. Even sick, Joel is relatively neat. Also, it’s pretty obvious that he’s been living in the same sweats and tee for the last three days. You make sure to set a clean outfit and warm socks on the bathroom counter.

With Ellie bringing dinner from the mess later, you don’t have much to do other than brew tea. The kettle’s on when you hear a groan from upstairs.

He’s heaved himself to sitting when you crack the door open.

“Ellie, I told you to stay out. I don’t want to get you sick.” His voice is crackling and raspy.

You push it open, scowling. “Well, you didn’t tell me shit, so.”

The glower is there immediately. “I’m tellin’ you now, then. Get out.”

“Nope. You lost that chance. Now you’re gonna suck it up and get taken care of.” You start stripping the sweaty sheets off his bed while he’s still sitting on it. “Go on and get in the bath.”

“I’m just gonna lay back down for a bit,” he mumbles.

You press the back of your hand against his forehead, followed by your lips. “You’re burning up. Get in the tub.”

But when you stand, his head follows, and you let him rest against your stomach for a minute, carding your hand through his damp hair.

“C’mon,” you urge, tugging at his hand. He lets you lead him into the bathroom, a marker of how sick he really must be.

The kettle hollers while he’s stripping down, and he’s settled once you return with the tea.

“I don’t want any shitty leaf water right now,” he grumps.

“Too bad! It has honey and lemon, and your throat’s seen better days.”

He accepts the cup, but he’s scowling.

“Y’know, you’re not very scary, butt ass naked in a tub with an owl on your mug,” you remark, sitting on the floor and leaning against the cabinet so you can see him.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re going to get sick. Did Ellie squeal?”

“Joel, I haven’t seen you in three days. Did you think I wasn’t going to get worried?”

His scowl pouts. “I didn’t mean to worry ya.”

“Yeah, well, you did. So. Don’t do that again.” You purse your lips and look at your tea.

“Hey,” he says, water sloshing as he shifts to get a better look at you. “You don’t gotta do… all this,” he says, gesturing to the mug and the bedroom, where you’ve tucked clean sheets onto his mattress.

“I know.”

He’s loathe to admit it, but the bath did help. Worse yet, the tea helped. He feels a little more human in clean clothes, but you still refuse his help cleaning up.

When you’re done, however, you peel back the blanket and crawl into bed with him. So maybe it’s not all bad, he thinks.

At least, until Ellie gets home and you properly scold him.

He’s asleep more than he’s awake, so you stay. You toss and turn and check on him about a hundred times. If the fever would break, you’d feel better. Except no, you wouldn’t, because that cough that’s settled in his chest scares you far more than you’d like to admit.

You’re not privy to the medical stock in Jackson, but you have a bad feeling that an old man with pneumonia wouldn’t be high on the list for antibiotics.

Not that you think he’d accept them, anyway. He’d be too worried about using up something a kid might need. Or anyone else. He doesn’t seem to realize anyone would put him first.

You and Ellie just might let the town burn for him. (But when you think of Alé, you kind of get it.)

Anyway. When he’s awake, he’s groggy, but you manage to convince him to eat. Never much at once, so you make sure it’s soup or oatmeal. Something soft and packed with nutrients.

On the third day of your stay, he starts to come ‘round the mend. The fever breaks. He starts to stay awake for longer than a couple of hours.

You set him up with what you can and return to your life, but you can’t make yourself go home at night. It’s just because of the damn cough, you tell yourself. You just need to keep an eye on it.

A couple of nights later, he’s awake when you peel the covers back and slide in behind him, arm curling around his waist. You press a kiss to the nape of his neck, nestling in as he rewards you with a contented hum. He lets you hold him for a minute, basking in the embrace before he rolls onto his back.

You’re clinging to him a little too tight.

“Rough patrol?” He says.

You shake your head where it’s buried in his tee. “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.”

“Don’t like you havin’ to handle anything,” he grumbles. He knows, both because he’s been told repeatedly and because he’s seen you handle the weapon, that you can protect yourself now.

It doesn’t mean he likes it.

“I was with Tommy. We were fine.” You yawn. It has to be past two now, what with shift change come midnight and then all the cleanup after.

He slips his arm under you so he can tug you closer, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. You press a kiss in the thicket of hair at the center of his chest, and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to this. He hopes not—he doesn’t ever want to take it for granted.

You yawn again, eyes watering, but your exhaustion is betrayed by the way your hips press against his thigh.

“What do you need, darlin’? Want me to lick your pussy until you fall asleep?”

“Can I ride you?” you counteroffer.

He groans, cock twitching to attention. “Of course, pretty girl.”

He helps you straddle him and reaches to peel the old t-shirt off your body so he can admire your tits in the moonlight. And the way your face goes soft when you see how he’s looking at you.

You waste no time, shifting around until you’ve got his cock in your hand and are settling atop it. You moan in tandem as he spreads you, the broad tip of him easily pressing through the slick.

“Needy tonight, huh? What’s got you all worked up?” he teases.

“Just you,” you say through a gasp as you grind down all the way.

He reaches up, maybe for your breasts, but you don’t find out. Instead, you intercept them and entwine your fingers.

He gets the idea and holds firm, ever your unwavering foundation. You use his support to gyrate, hips grinding as your thighs push around his to slide up and down on his cock.

Your palms are sweaty, but his grip is tight and desperate. His head tilts back, exposing the long column of his neck.

“Fuck,” you whimper as you get the angle just right. It makes you jerk a little, bumping that sweet spot again. He grunts, teeth gritted as you clamp down around him. When he looks back up at you, he’s positively ravenous.

“No,” you say before he opens his mouth with some bullshit.

“C’mon,” he whines.

“You’re still sick. I’m not lettin’ you cough up a lung. You’re gonna lay there and take what I give ya.”

His eyes narrow at the over the top Texan accent you saved for the last bit. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“You think I’m funny. You love all my jokes.”

“Damned if I don’t,” he grumbles, but it’s betrayed by the look in his eyes. “You, too, y’know.”

You almost freeze up but decide to play obtuse. “You’re right; I do love all my jokes.”

He opens his mouth again, so you change pace a little to throw him off.

It works.

Whatever he was about to say, which you know damn well but aren’t prepared to handle right now, comes out as a broken moan.

In the end, it slips out of you a few days later. It’s not triggered by anything; he doesn’t do anything charming, there’s no intense moment of intimacy or heroism that inspires it.

You don’t mean to say it, but you do mean it.

You’re sitting side by side on his porch, steaming mugs of tea in hand. The pale winter sun has barely broken the horizon, but you had still agreed to come out in the cold with him. Agreed it might be good for him to get some fresh air.

The fuck you quilt is draped over both your shoulders. Joel had grabbed it on the way out the door while you balanced the tea and put your boots on. It cocoons you, but there’s still a little space between you, knees knocking together but bodies apart.

You watch his breath curl out into the dawn, and it just happens.

“I love you, Joel,” you say. It’s quiet, softer than the creak of the swing. It takes you by surprise, as your tongue so often does, but you don’t try to reel it back or brace for disaster.

You don’t need to. You know.

But he freezes. Pauses.

He didn’t know, you realize, he wasn’t sure. All this time, he wasn’t saying it but still making sure you knew.

But you haven’t done the same for him.

He didn’t know.

He wraps his free arm around your shoulder and tucks you into him, chin resting on your head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

The peace lasts for about a minute.

“Now will you stop being so goddamn stubborn and move in?”

*title from "Closing Time" by Semisonic

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #you know you never stood a chance series #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou 2 spoilers #tlou fic #the last of us pt 2 spoilers

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