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honeyedmiller · 3 months

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An Ode to Forever | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: mostly pwp, sex in a bathtub with lots of feelings, fluff, tenderness, they’re both so sickeningly in love, smut (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, joel is handsy af, some butt stuff [lol]), light alcohol consumption, sort of erotic food consumption(not really tho???), use of daddy twice in this (idk what came over me), joel doesn’t have kids in this, no use of y/n.

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: after an arduous day, joel draws a bath to help you both relax.

an ode to how much you love joel miller, and he, you.

a/n: this is a lil valentine’s day one shot i wanted to put out. slowly getting my writing juju back. this is also a follower milestone celebration. thank you to everyone who supports my work. love you all <3

divider by @saradika-graphics

It’d been a rough day.

A day where bones ached, minds were exhausted and all that was yearned for was to be home with each other.

You’d texted Joel that you were stopping off at the store to get some wine because hell, you needed to relax. He instantly texted you back to be safe and that he loves you.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

A true love like this is something you’d never in a million years think you’d ever have to yourself. Someone who cares so much. Someone you can cherish. A love that was all your own. You were so wrapped up in the bliss of Joel Miller, and he, you.

It was the kind of love that was terrifying and beautiful and gut wrenching and so fucking rare. A love that made you feel like you were floating in the clouds, euphoria pumping through your veins every time you looked at him. The kind of love that was a forever thing. Something you never, ever thought you’d have.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

The lights were off when you got home. You call out his name, hanging your keys on your designated hook before toeing off your pumps.

“Up here.” He calls back, voice cascading down the stairs. You make your way up and into the bedroom, setting your work bag down before you look around in confusion.

“Joel?” You call out, and his broad frame emerges from the bathroom.

“Hey baby.” He says. You smile softly at the sight of him, body visibly relaxing in his presence. Joel notices and the corner of his mouth twitches upward into a smile.

“Hi.” Your voice is as soft as your expression, allowing him to envelope the whole of your being into his strong, warm arms. He kisses your temple before gently taking the pinot grigio out of your hands, humming at your wine choice.

“Take your work clothes off and meet me in the bathroom.” He gives your forehead a kiss before disappearing again. You cock your eyebrow in confusion, but oblige to his request anyhow. You strip off your clothes, leaving your body clad in just your bra and underwear. The plush carpet beneath your bare feet feels heavenly after a day of wearing those pumps for work.

The cold tile of the bathroom sends a chill up your spine, but you ignore the sensation when you take in all that’s in front of you—a bubble bath with rose petals scattered atop, candles lit on the side of the tub, and a small tray of chocolate covered strawberries waiting to be devoured. Wine glasses filled with two cubes of ice each sit perfectly next to the strawberries, along with the pinot grigio.

You feel the sting of tears immediately. Your eyes move over to Joel, who’s standing with his hands behind his back and a boyish grin adorning his handsome face.

“What—what’s this?” Your voice is meek, eyes glossy and bottom lip slightly trembling.

“I know we won’t get that much time to ourselves on Valentine’s Day, so I thought we’d celebrate a little early. Y‘know, a nice way to relax after a tough day.”

“Joel, honey, this is perfect.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

You turn to face him fully. “I love it. And I love you.” You close the distance between the both of you, pulling him in for a tender kiss. He hums against your lips, enveloping your body into his arms. He slides his hands down to your ass, giving it a playful tap.

He unravels his arms from you before taking a small step back, shucking off his shirt and his pants. He looks at you as you watch him, desire for him pooling your eyes. A glint of fascination crosses his gaze as he studies you studying him.

“One more thing.” Joel says before stepping out of the bathroom. A minute later, soft tunes of Frank Sinatra wafted throughout the bedroom and into the bathroom. He comes back in with a smile on his face as he grabs your hand and twirls you before kissing you. You couldn’t help but smile against him.

He pulls down his underwear and climbs into the tub, groaning at the warm water against his achy bones.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” He nudges his head, holding his hand out to you. You smile and remove your bra and underwear, climbing into the tub with him. The warm water eased the tension that was left in your body, rolling off your shoulders and dissipating into the aroma of scented bubbles. Lavender, you think.

Joel pulls you back against his body, warm and inviting as you lean on him and close your eyes. You sit like that for a minute—still, calm, and silent. It’s what you both needed. Days like this could be more than overstimulating, and Joel knew that. You both basked in the fact that you could sit in silence in each other’s presence and be perfectly content.

You felt movement behind you, only to see Joel reaching for the wine bottle. He opens it with ease and pours the wine into the two glasses, clinking his with yours in a soft ‘cheers.’

Joel set his glass down on the edge of the tub, hands landing on your shoulders. Water sloshed gingerly with his movements. He started to dig his thumbs into the tense muscle. You couldn’t help but groan, head lolling to the side slowly.

“Feel good?” Joel chuckles close to your ear, goosebumps raising at the low vibrato of his voice.

“Mhm,” You manage.

Joel leans his mouth down to the base of your neck, leaving tender kisses in his wake. Your nails trace patterns on his thick thighs, the slow drag pulling at the need for you within him.

Your touch, your smile, your voice, your laugh, you. You drove him absolutely crazy. This man loved you more than life itself. If he could give you the whole world, he would—but for once in his life he knew he was enough.

“I love you, darlin’.” Joel’s voice is nearly a whisper. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your soft flesh repeatedly.

You crane your neck to face him and his hands drop to your arms.

“I love you more, cowboy.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Not possible.”

“Mm.” You muse, leaning in to kiss him. Those same rumbling butterflies stir in your stomach, heart strings pulling at the softness of his lips and how perfect they feel slotted with yours.

His tongue easily made its way into your mouth as you slid a hand into his slightly graying curls. You moaned into him, your other free hand gripping his thigh tighter as the neediness ignites within your body.

See, that was the thing. Joel had you wrapped around his fingers. He knew exactly what made you tick.

His hands slowly slide to your breasts, kneading them with such care before pinching both of your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. You gasp into the kiss at the sensation as it travels down like hot liquid to your core, already pulsing with aching need.

Joel’s small chuckle separates the kiss, and you lean your forehead against his cheek as he continues to toy with your pillowy flesh. Your breathing begins to stagger, mind clouded with the carnal desire for the man who’s stolen your heart.

“Joel,” You’re breathless, legs mindlessly rubbing together for any friction you can get. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” His chest rumbles with the low vibrato of his voice, goosebumps erupting on your skin once more.

“Fuck. Touch me. Please, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ love when my girl uses her manners. How do you want daddy to touch you?” His voice is a low growl, one hand easily gliding down the curves of your body before his fingertips brush over your mound. You can’t help the soft whimper that escapes you as he easily spreads your legs with his hand, running his middle finger down your slit. “Like this?”

You suck in a breath behind clenched teeth, head dropping back onto his shoulder as he starts to slowly drag his fingers over your slick sex. Even underwater, Joel could feel how aroused you are.

“Answer me, sweet girl. Tell me.”

“Y-yes. God, yes–please—fuck me with your fingers.”

You’ve come to learn how to be more vocal with Joel, always shying away from telling him what you wanted when it came to your pleasure at first. He eventually coaxed it out of you, telling you that there’s no reason to be shy around him. He’d take care of you all the same.

You knew that, but you were still grateful for the man being patient with you when words would get lodged into your throat, seemingly unwilling to be vocalized. It got easier over time, and the confidence you radiated when you and Joel initiated anything intimate was a show he’d always want a front seat to.

You moaned as he easily slipped a finger into you, disappearing down to the knuckle. It was a welcome stretch, his fingers always reaching places yours never could. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“Another one, please.” You sigh, rutting your hips down to grind onto his hand. He easily complies, this time a little bit more of a tight fit. You moan at the sensation, and Joel has a crooked grin on his face as he starts to languidly pump his fingers in and out of you. He was teasing you, you think, because he wanted to hear you beg him to go faster. And, truthfully, you weren’t above doing so.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me, baby,” He starts to pick up his pace, and you subconsciously bite your lip to quiet yourself down. “Uh uh, don’t go all shy on me now, darlin’. Wanna hear you. Wanna hear how I make you feel.”

“You know—shit—you know how you make me feel, Joel,” You reason with him, “You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Good.”

That was all he said before he picked up the pace of his fingers, curling them to press against the spongy spot in you that had your eyes rolling back and your toes curling. He swiped his thumb over your clit, finding a steady rhythm with his fingers.

One of your hands had his thigh in a vice grip, likely to leave scratch marks on his tan skin while the other held onto the edge of the tub. That same liquid heat traveled throughout the course of your body, pooling at the bottom of your spine. Waiting. Wanting. Begging to be released. You grind your hips down to match his pace, just needed a bit more of a push.

The whimpers and moans that eluded you only added to Joel’s own arousal, the occasional grunt from him reverberating off of the bathroom walls. His cock was solid against your back, and you couldn’t help but think how much self control this man had.

“Can feel your pretty pussy clenchin’ my fingers, sweetheart. You gonna come on them? Hm?” His lips are at your ear now, poking his tongue out to lick your earlobe before nibbling on it.

“Yes—oh, fuckfuckfuck. Right there, Joel, please don’t stop. Pleasepleaseplease—” You’re a begging, whimpering mess before you come undone, whole body shuddering as your orgasm washes over you so intensely.

“There you go. That’s it. My girl always does so well, hm? So fuckin’ well.” Joel praises you, slowly sliding his fingers out of you before running them over your slit once more, featherlight and meticulous. You shudder at the sensation, a choked moan escaping the hollows of your throat.

“What do you say?” Joel teases, riling you up.

“Thank you, daddy.” You laugh softly, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.

You sit up and turn yourself around, careful not to slosh any water outside of the tub. Joel has an amused look on his face and you huff a laugh through your nose before kissing him. It was passionate, like something you’d see in those romance movies on the big screen.

It’s a silent promise, something that can’t be put into words. It surges through your veins and exists in you all the time, heightened by the very man that made you feel these things again.

You pull apart from him, rubbing your nose against his before you lean back to take in his handsome features. His dark brown eyes gleamed with budding love.

Your gaze shifts to the untouched strawberries, and you pluck one off of the plate before taking a bite. It’s sweet; the mixture of chocolate and the fruit dancing on your taste buds. You hold the rest of the strawberry to Joel’s lips, and he grins before taking a bigger bite. You place the calyx back on the tray, gaze drifting to Joel again.

You grin when you see some chocolate on his bottom lip.

“You got a little…” Your words die in your throat as you lean forward, licking his bottom lip before kissing him again. You move to straddle his lap, hips flexing to fit around the broadness of him.

“Be mine forever.” He whispers against you.

“I’m already yours, Joel. You’ve always had me.”

You trail a hand down his chest, toying with his hair before sliding your palm down his torso as your nails slightly scrape his flesh. You plant soft kisses all along his collarbone, tongue poking out to lick his already wet skin.

Your wandering hand brushes through the tuft, wiry hair that sat atop his aching cock. You hum against him and wrap your hand around his length. He pulses in your hand, heavy and waiting to be relieved. You begin to slide your hand up and down his silky flesh, nipping at his collarbone as you did so.

Joel sucks in a breath behind clenched teeth, eyes closing in pure bliss as he tries to refrain from bucking up into your hand.

“Such a pretty cock. Love it so much.” You muse, and Joel groans at your words. He’ll never get used to you worshiping him and his body the way you do, he thinks.

But, he loves it all the same. It makes his heart fucking flutter, and even though he’ll probably never openly admit it, he loves it. It makes him feel worthy. Wanted. Loved.

“It’d look even prettier buried in that perfect pussy.” He says, and your movements falter for a split second. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his filthy mouth, but it was something you couldn’t get enough of.

You look down at him with hooded eyes and a satiated grin before lifting your hips up to hover over him, swiping his tip over your folds before sinking down on him. You’re slow with your movements, wanting to feel every ridge and vein his pretty, pretty cock has.

You both moan in harmony as you reach the hilt.

“So-fuckin’-perfect.” Joel grits, head lolling back as he takes in the sensation of your warmth wrapped around him so perfectly, like you were specifically made to be there. And you are, you think.

Your hands rest on his shoulders as you start gliding up and down on him, the stretch so welcoming every time you fully sink back down. Joel’s hands settle onto your ass to guide you into a steady pace. He wraps his lips around one of your nipples, giving it a soft bite, and you gasp at the sensation. Joel could feel you clenching around him with every pass of his tongue on your sensitive bud.

One of your hands tangles itself into his curls once more, giving them a little tug. His eyes pop open and he lets go of your nipple with a small ‘pop’, gaze never wavering from yours. You toss him a saccharine smile before kissing the tip of his nose.

“So handsome.” You whisper, kissing every high point of his face before resting your forehead against his once more.

“Yeah?” He asks, fingers grazing down on your ass slotting themselves between the crevice of both cheeks.

“Mhm.” You bite your lip, knowing what was coming. It was something new that you tried around a month ago and really liked, so Joel would implement the action whenever he could.

The tip of his middle finger circled around the tight ring of your asshole, a wicked grin on his lips as your hips stuttered.

“Gotta fill you all the way up, darlin’.” He chuckles as he pushes his middle finger into your tight hole.

Your eyes clamp shut tight, feeling so full of the man you love.

“Fuck, god, Joel– feels s’good.” Your words are slurring together and you’re trying your damnedest to keep the pace of your hips steady, maybe even riding him a little faster if that means his finger in your ass will pump faster, too.

“I know, baby. Doin’ so well. So good for me, hm? Takin’ what I give ya, so full n’ all.” He cooes, nosing at your jaw as your mouth falls slack and eyebrows thread together.

The pleasure coursing through your body is devastatingly euphoric, the sensation of him everywhere driving you crazy in all the right ways.

You know it wouldn’t be long before you fell apart at the seams for him once more.

That deep, throaty growl he does while his eyes are shut in concentration, and the pulsing feeling of his cock is a dead giveaway that he’s going to fall apart for you, too.

“‘M close, Joel.” You’re clawing at his back now, his finger curling inside you as you bury your face into his neck.

Your hips burn from straddling his wide frame, desperate for a break, but you won’t stop. Not until You’re falling apart for him and he, you.

“I know, sweet girl. Can feel ya. Give it t’me, c’mon.” He groans, fucking up into you. His jaw ticks as his teeth clench, feeling you pulsing around him as you cry out his name in pure bliss. Another orgasm crashes through you, eyes rolling back as your body goes limp on his.

It only takes him a few more thrusts before he’s coming, filling you with everything he has. He moans with every stutter of his hips as his chest heaves up and down, body following suit with yours and going completely limp. He removes his finger from you slowly before you lift yourself off of him, already missing the feeling of being so full.

You stay wrapped up in eachother for a few minutes, giving yourselves the chance to catch your breaths. You kiss his chest repeatedly, placing your hand over his rapidly beating heart.

“I love you. So fucking much, Miller.” You laugh softly, tracing patterns on his chest as your head presses against the solidity of it.

The feeling of his beating heart surges life into you. Knowing that you get to exist at the same time as this gorgeous, loving man is a feeling you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. There really are no words for it, you think. At least not strong enough to describe the feeling.

“I love you too, darlin’. Forever.”

And then you think to yourself, you’d do life over and over again if it meant you got to meet Joel in every single one of them.

i’m such a fucking sap dude. lmfaooo anyway, hope y’all enjoyed <3

tags: @nostalxgic ; @ilovepedro ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @joelsgreys ; @pamasaur ; @cool-iguana ; @joeloverture

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

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sytoran · 10 months

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𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟑

you and natasha were star-crossed lovers, separated by galaxies and timelines. like any other shakesperean tragedy, you and natasha's tale comes to an end... or does it?

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: this is the 3rd installment to the goddess!nat universe! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains major angst and smut. i have spent ungodly hours on this chapter.

word count: 4.5k (i am impressed with myself)

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously…

No one escapes the consequences of their actions. Not even the Goddess of Lust, who had formed romantic relationships with a mortal. SHIELD’s decision to forbid the two of you from ever seeing each other again tears apart all the ‘what-ifs’ of a bright future.

Now…

Natasha doesn’t know how many hours she’s been crying in the bathtub.

After the finality of SHIELD’s crushing decision had truly weighed itself upon Natasha’s burdened shoulders, the mere thought of what she would have to do to you shook her to the bone.

Which is why she crashed at her sister’s place: to cry her problems away in a bathtub made of priceless gold, alongside a fine bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Jesus, Nat, you’re gonna die of hypothermia if you stay in there a second longer.” Yelena says, kicking open the bathroom door with a tray of smoked salmon appetizers in hand.

“Take one,” Yelena says absentmindedly, sitting herself on the edge of the bathtub next to Natasha’s partially-submerged form. “Food helps with everything.”

Natasha doesn’t respond, only looking up at her sister through glassy eyes. Empty eyes. She felt raw and numb at the same time, but the contrasting emotions were merely child’s play in comparison to the storm that raged within her weary mind.

Yelena looks at her unamusedly, before folding her arms. “Talk to me,” she stated firmly, and it wasn’t a request. The blonde sister was the Goddess of War, after all, she could be as intimidating and ruthless as she wanted to be.

Hot-headed at times, sure, but so paradoxically calculative and strategic at other times Natasha felt like she could get whiplash. Despite all of the finicky situations the older sister had found herself drowning in, Yelena was always there for her, fiercely protective with a passion like no other.

This was no different, with Yelena being the hand to pull her out of the water. Physically and metaphorically.

Natasha inhaled shakily, then exhaled and felt a whole lot worse than before. Impulsively, she snatched one of the smoked salmon appetizers off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth, feeling her eyes well up as she does so.

“Damn, this human fucked you up this bad?” The blonde said quizically, with an air of sarcastic wit on the surface but a layer of genuine concern underneath only Natasha would be able to decipher.

"... I've fallen in love with her." The Goddess says softly, faraway, like she was floating with the wind and time itself. Detached from reality, or perhaps running away from it.

Yelena stayed silent. For once, the Goddess of War was at a loss.

“I’ve fallen in love with her,” Natasha says again, with slightly more conviction. She looks to her blonde sister, and Yelena’s heart nearly shatters at the sight of the sheer hurt on Natasha’s face. So broken, so agonized, everything that she did not deserve to be.

“But that doesn’t even matter, alright? She gave me her heart, Lena, and I’m going to have to break it. I’m gonna break so many– Fuck, I’m gonna have to break every single promise I’ve ever made to her, like she’s some kind of toy.” Natasha chokes out. “And I don’t, I fucking don’t– understand why it was us, why I lead her on and why I let it happen. I’m fucking stupid, and now it’s blown up in my face. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I-”

“You’ve never deserved it,” Yelena interrupts, placing a hand over her sisters’. Is that how you’re supposed to comfort someone? Yelena doesn’t know. Anyways, she’s trying. “Nat, I know you’re the Goddess of Lust, and your reputation precedes you, but, you, of all people, deserve love.”

You deserve love… what a fucking lie that was.

“Don’t try that on me,” Natasha snaps, her walls snapping back up in record timing. Her self-destructive defence builds like armour, and soon she’s standing up.

“I’ve done some fucked up shit in the past, and I’m very aware of it. I thought I’d moved past it, but now those demons have caught up to me, and I can’t do jackshit but watch the love of my life slip away from my fingers. I don’t deserve love, it just happened to find me and I played along because I thought it could last.”

Natasha’s chest heaves at the impact of the outburst. She stares at Yelena, who remains painfully impassive. Arms folded, jaw working on the stupid fucking smoked salmon.

Fuck, she wanted to hurt someone. Make them feel her pain. Let it consume them like it’s consuming her, let it choke them and–

“Is that what you really think, Nat? That you were simply playing a game with Y/N L/N? Because I assure you, I haven’t seen much but I know damn well that those two months with her pure, unfiltered, undying, devotion.”

Yelena’s words puncture a hole into her conscience, injecting venom with it. Each syllable, each emphasis, cuts her. Because Natasha knows that it’s true, but she can’t accept it or she’ll never be able to let you go.

So all she does is give Yelena the best death stare she can muster, and stalk out of her bathroom like her clothes aren’t dripping with bubbly water. (Yes, she had gone into the bathtub with all her clothes on. Depression waited for no man, or Goddess.)

She shakes her head, forcing the stray thoughts to dissipate, and fixes up her appearance with wordless magic.

My palace. Natasha visualizes the place, closing her eyes, and when she opens them again, she’s standing right outside the door.

Apprehensively, she puts her hand on the handle to the huge, sparkling door. You would be waiting on the other side, waiting for Natasha to come home.

Waiting for Natasha to break your heart.

She pushes the door open before she can cower and hide, before she can run away and curse every sentient being in existence.

It was time for her mortal demise.

—

It was time for Natasha to see the fruits of your hard work.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, huffing heavily but proud nonetheless. You step back to admire the absolute feast you had prepared for your girlfriend.

The fancy dining table was adorned with a checkered tablecloth and ornate with all kinds of things, expensive plates and cutlery already set up, just for two.

It was no secret that Natasha loved your home-cooked meals, despite being able to eat whatever she wanted, as a Goddess with a private chef. She had sworn you put something magical into your food.

You’ll never forget the moan she let out the first time she ate your perfected medium-rare New York Strip.

Which is exactly why you’ve spent over an hour cooking up a banquet of all kinds of food for the Goddess, an array of cuisines from all around the world. As much as you loved the hot sex you had with Natasha, you were an absolute sucker for the domesticity of life with her, how simple and perfect it was.

As if on cue, you hear the front door open, which was not too far away from the dining hall.

Your heart physically leaps, unbridled excitement adorning your features. Natasha had taken longer than she normally would, and you could barely contain the anticipation thrumming in your bones.

That is, until you see Natasha standing in the hallway defeatedly, shoulders sagged and eyes lowered. Like all the life had been sapped out of her.

Fuck, you had never seen her like this. Natasha was the embodiment of undying energy, always with a smile on her face, or her expression schooled into composure, or her eyes fluttering in a state of lust. Not like this.

Never like this.

“Darling?” you ask, hushed. You take one step towards her, tentatively. The head of red hair looks up to you, and Natasha’s biting her lip like she’s stopping the words from falling out of her mouth, like she’ll start crying if you say one word more.

“I-” Natasha tries, her voice hoarse and choked. The rest of her sentence dies in her throat, as she shakes her head and strides past you quickly, like she can’t burn any longer under your gaze.

Your hand drops in complete loss as Natasha simply walks past you, shoulders brushing like a ghost of what used to be warm hugs and sweet kisses. You chase after her before you know it, yelling her name as the Goddess speeds up.

Natasha blinks back tears furiously, striding through the dining hall as the servants scatter like mice. She hardly registers the feast prepared on the ornate table, vision blurring with each desperate cry of her name you let out.

“Natasha? What’s the matter? Talk to me, please!”

You sprint faster, dodging your way through the hallways and up the wide set of stairs. The Goddess is within arm’s reach, now, and you extend your arm to grab onto hers, so you can spin her around and ask what on earth is going–

And the Goddess simply teleports away at the last second, the fleeting touch of her warm skin dissipating into thin air.

“Fuck!” you yell, eyes darting in frustration. Why was Natasha acting like this? Had you done something? Forget her birthday? No, that was December 3rd. Forget the anniversary of your first meeting? Nope, that was January 24th. What on earth had you done? Or had she done something? You–

No, okay, calm down. Slow down. The rational voice in your head speaks up. Where would Natasha have gone? What was a significant place she would escape to, in times of distress?

After a moment of contemplation, you find your answer, and sooner than later you’re sprinting up the long flight of spiral staircases to the Astronomy Tower.

—

Natasha’s thankful for the dome-shaped glass ceiling the tower has, doing what it can to block out the cold. The sky is absolutely breathtaking, a heart-wrenching contrast to her inner turmoil.

It’s a dark blue and a soft pink, with millions of little bright planets splashing across the canvas like silver sequins. The view of the galaxy from the land of the Gods had always been the greatest, after all.

The Goddess stands, unmoving and breathing lightly. She doesn’t feel the least bit better, but at least she’s calmed down in the slightest.

She’s bought some time by teleporting up here. Her hands were clammy, but no matter how many times she wipes them down on her dress it doesn’t change a thing. She can’t change a thing, not for anything, not for you.

“Natasha?” you ask, weakly, heaving at having sprinted up so many flights of stairs.

At the sight of you, the Goddess feels the tears spring back into her eyes again. Stupid. She wants to say sorry. Stroke your face and kiss your lips, maybe. Well, not maybe, because she can’t. Because it’s the last– nope, she can’t say it.

“Nat, can you….. fuck, I need to work out more. Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I made- I made a New York Strip, if you’re hungry–”

The Goddess walks up to you, cradling the side of your face in her hands. Oh, fuck it. Tender, sweet, delicate. You’ve never seen her face like this before, so soft yet so broken.

“What—”

You’re cut off when Natasha leans into your space, eyelids fluttering shut. And for once, this wasn’t preordained or predetermined. You didn’t have to calculate the next move. You didn’t have to fix a destiny.

Natasha’s lips meet yours in a grand, cruel, beautiful, broken kiss.

It feels so right, tongues interlocking like cogs on a machine, quavering breaths escaping from the sides of her mouth. You let her in, you drink her up. All other thoughts shut down.

Natasha kisses you with a hyena’s jaw, swearing she could never get enough, never satiate her desires for you, even if everything else is wrong. You’re stealing her every breath, every kiss, every sigh — she needed more.

She slides her hand down your torso, hands already finding the hem of your pants. But then you push her away – for the first time, for that last time – you push her away, and step back, and your head is spinning.

“I deserve to know,” you breathe heavily, and Natasha’s heart cracks. “You’re scaring me, Nat, okay? First you brush past me all soulless, and then you make me chase after you, and then you kiss me so- so sadly, and now you wanna fuck? It doesn’t make sense, not at all. I wanna know, I deserve to know, I–”

“You deserve everything,” Natasha interrupts, eyes transfixed on you now, and they look kaleidoscopic, just like the galaxy that hung above your heads. “You deserve everything, but I can’t give you what you need, and that’s why this is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again.”

Silence ensues.

You take a good moment to actually mentally digest what Natasha had just said. “...What?”

“This is the last time we’re ever seeing each other again,” she repeats, firmer. You let out a bark of laughter in disbelief, half-joking, but Natasha’ stony face makes your face drop.

“Are you… breaking up with me?” you whisper, scared to say it loud, like doing so would make it less true. Natasha feels her heart clench, and her hands shake because you’ve never sounded so small, so vulnerable.

“No, I’m not– I had to, Y/N, darling,” Natasha says, trying to reason, clasping your hands in hers, shaking her head desparately, like it would stop her eyes from welling up. “I’m a Goddess, and you’re a mortal. I love you, please. But we can’t do this, we can’t-”

“Is it me?” you ask, softly, troubled. Eyes locking Natasha’s magnificent green eyes, one’s that you’ve fallen in love with a thousand times. Ones that you were still in love with.

“No,” Natasha says immediately, her knuckles whitening. “It’s not you. Definitely not.”

“Then who is it?” you follow up, eyes narrowing, head tilted. “Who’s the one tearing us apart?”

It was them, Natasha wants to scream out, until her lungs burned and her chest heaved and she ran out of tears. You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened in my life, and I’m a damned fool if I ever let you go, but this isn’t in my hands anymore. She wanted to curse the higher beings for centuries, taint their names with bitter words, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

You grow more hopeless as the silence stretches on.

No, you’re the villain. Natasha’s voice says in her head. This was what had come to bite her back, this was her karma. You’re paying for everything you’ve ever done wrong, for all the hearts you’ve broken and never mended. It’s your turn to face the music, your turn to go through suffering. What a shame, isn’t it? That she’s the one who’s so hurt because of you. Y/N L/N. Only person to blame is yourself.

…Only person to blame is yourself.

“It’s me,” Natasha finally says, a shell of a woman who once was, and the Goddess swears she hears your heart smash into smithereens, the glass pieces against the floor you trod on.

“No, what are you saying, Nat?” you ask, confused, tearing up, visibly shaking. “You’re- we’re together. We’re doing good. We’re doing so fucking good, please don’t–”

“I’m the Goddess of Lust, and you’re an attorney from earth. We were never gonna work out. I wasn’t made to have long-lasting, committed relationships. Just… lustful nights,” the falsehood of the words that fell out of Natasha’s mouth wasn’t her own. It tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was like medicine and it was the right thing to do.

You needed a villain. Someone to hate. Someone to blame it all on.

And Natasha happened to be a very good one.

“We were a time-ticking bomb, Y/N, separated by galaxies you could never even fathom.” she continues. “We were never meant to be. I realise how wrong I am for this, because it was never real–”

“It was real to me!” You yell out, voice cracking, tears in your eyes.

Natasha is stunned by the sheer volume of your words, so ferocious and so determined and fuck, she was pathetic. “It was fucking real to me, alright? It was the realest thing I’ve ever had in my entire life. It was so fucking real, Nat, so you don’t get to just pretend you never fell in love!”

Love.

“Love?” Natasha asks, letting out an amused huff of disbelief. “Love doesn’t exist, not in my world, Y/N L/N. It had to end at some point, you know that. You have your responsibilities, I have mine. We’re over, alright?”

You stand there, feet rooted on the ground, face fallen and ashen and grey. This was a dream. This was a dream, and you’d wake up next to the real Natasha later, the one with sweet smiles and peanut butter cookies, and everything would be alright.

“I’ve said what I had to say,” the Goddess says, and she has to regulate her breathing so she won’t choke on her words and swallow them back. She had to escape before she fell to her knees and begged you for forgiveness. “I’m leaving, now.”

She turns, and you grab her arm. “You’re staying.” you state, non-negotiable. A commanding tone. One that Natasha had grown to love.

This time, she scoffs, wrenching herself out of your grasp. “Fucking make me, then.”

Just like that, a lever between the two of you was flicked, and the sexual tension you’d been trying to avoid since just now is nearly suffocating.

“We’re not gonna do this right now,” You growl, looking up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. Teetering on the edge of precipice was your raging impulse, to either punch a hole in the wall or shove your hand up Natasha’s skimpy dress.

The Goddess tilts her head up in defiance, looking at you daringly in the eyes. Your eyes narrow, taking it as a challenge. God, she looked so fucking bratty like that, and it didn’t help that she was still wearing a stupidly skimpy dress and that her pink lip gloss made that mouth so damn kissable.

“No? Then I’m leaving,” Natasha says abruptly, her tone of voice unyielding and domineering. She uncrosses her arms and turns on her heel, her hand going to the door of the tower.

The rhythmic clicking of her strappy high heels against the tiling of the ground ticks your brain like a metronome. You stand there with your arms folded, her long legs in the field of vision of narrowed eyes.

Click, click, click–

And then she’s being spun around and slammed against the back of the door with an unruly force.

“The only time someone ever turns their back on me, when I’m talking, is when they’re bendin’ over,” you growl into Natasha’s skin, each pause in your sentence filled with a harsh bite to her porcelain skin. Her gasp-turned-moan is heaven to your ears.

Natasha struggles for a moment, hand still grasping for the doorknob. “Fuck,” she cries, but she feels the gyration of your roughly-shoved thigh up her dress and she nearly loses it. You wrap a hand around her neck, letting her give up her power, and you do what you’ve done a thousand times before.

Except this was the last time.

You don’t bother to take off her garments as you hike up the bottom of her dress and push your front against her. “Fuck,” Natasha moans, feeling your rock-hard bulge against her panties. She tries to grind against it, tries to alleviate the growing tension, but you do nothing more than rut against her until she’s fucking soaking.

“I don’t think so,” you growl, hands going to her ass as you push her up against the wall. Your mouth latches on to whatever slivers of bare skin you can find, on her neck and her collarbone and her upper cleavage.

You suck hard on her porcelain skin, leaving marks like you could claim her. Like this wouldn’t be the last time. “Please,” Natasha begs, indescribably aroused, her panties completely soaked through. You had never been this unforgiving.”Need you, please.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t what you were saying just now, hmm?” You ask, harshly, slapping the side of her thigh just because you can. You pin her against the wall with your knees and your left hand, using the other to unbuckle your own pants.

She tries to reach out to help you, but you slap her hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you say coldly, and Natasha wants to cry but she knows she brought it upon herself.

It takes you more time on your own, but you get the job done and the sight of your cock, the one Natasha took the first day she met you, it makes her cunt grow a heartbeat and she’s a fucking mess against the wall.

“Now you need me so bad?” You taunt, rubbing the tip of it against the slit of her pussy. “Don’t have any more words to say?” God, she’s absolutely drenched, and you think you’re gonna die if you don’t go inside her in the next five seconds.

This was probably the worst way to communicate, but, fuck, the two of you were bad at talking and you couldn’t resist the divine goddess that was Natasha, no matter how badly she had hurt you.

You nearly cum the second you enter the Goddess. Her velvet walls cling tight to you, so warm, too fucking warm. Natasha’s babbling something you don’t understand, but you can’t wait any longer.

“Oh, fuck!” she moans, as you slide your cock into her wet cunt with ease.

Your bodies move together with every thrust, Natasha’s legs wrapped tight around your torso as you thrust into her against the door. It’s hard, and fast, and rough, and nothing tender like your Saturday mornings.

She clings to your back, head thrown back, moans and cries bouncing off the sides of the wall. The door is shaking, like it might crack from the sheer weight of your thrusts into her.

You grunt at the inconvenience of that prospect, instead opting to walk the two of you back to a desk in the corner. Natasha gasps, whimpering into your neck as you walk across the floor with your cock still deep inside her pussy. It’s too sensitive, so sensitive everywhere.

You bend her over the desk, pulling away then lining yourself up again.

You’re about to make her beg, before the irrational, carnal side of your mind takes over, and you’re pounding into her pretty little cunt mercilessly. Grunting and groaning as lodge your cock in deeper with each harder thrust, as her moans delve into a symphonic crescendo of screams of your name.

She’s thrashing around, so warm and so wet and so overstimulated all over, but you don’t let up for a moment. You only grip her thighs harder and make her hear how wet she is, before Natasha’s eyes are rolling into the back of her head and there’s drool at the sides of her mouth.

“Pretty slut,” you grunt, pulling out to slap at her puffy clit before she’s squirting, white cream going all over the mattress. “Daddy,” Natasha moans pornographically, visibly shuddering at your degradation. She might like it, a little too much.

The title that had fallen from her lips elicits a groan of acknowledgement out of you, but simultaneously brings back the bittersweet flashbacks of your time spent with her.

This was the last time.

After she’s come down from her high and you’ve hit your climax, you spread her legs and lean down to get a good taste.

"Oh! Daddy - ungh - please," she begs, as your tongue meets her overstimulated cunt. Natasha hadn't even recovered from her previous orgasm, still bent over the desk and panting like she was in heat.

You lap greedily at her wet cunt from behind, and the sheer novelty of how many times you’ve done this truly hits you. How many hours you’ve spent exploring Natasha’s body. How many days you’ve spent worshipping.

All for it to succumb to this.

It’s only after another few orgasms that the weight of ‘the last time’ hits you. Both of you have ended up on the floor, completely naked, heaving heavily to regain oxygen.

“I loved you,” you whisper, hovering above Natasha, and the use of the past tense makes chips away at Natasha’s heart. It’s only then does she realise that there are tears on her cheeks, because you’re crying.

“You deserve someone better,” is the only thing the Goddess says, a ghost of her whisper on your lips.

“You've ruined me for anyone else,” you say, face devoid of the passion there once was. “You loved me so tenderly I won't be able to have another, had such good sex I can't sleep with anyone else.”

Natasha doesn’t respond to that. She can’t respond to that. There were too many unsaid words, broken promises, a future yet to be.

Both of you look up at the pink-blue sky, bare backs on an astronomy tower, bound by love and unbound by timelines and galaxies. It was brokenly beautiful, undeniably so.

You only wish everything could’ve been different.

—

You wake up the next day in an unfamiliar bedroom. The room was far too small, the walls were too grey, the air was too cold, and fuck.

No, no, no, fuck. This was not happening.

Realisation slams into your exhausted body like a two-hundred kilogram sledgehammer, and you're winded by the weight of the impact.

This wasn't Natasha's home. This wasn't her fancy palace.

This wasn't the Goddess' universe.

Air crushes your lungs. Your heart pounds in your chest.

This was your bedroom. This was your universe. The one you had spent all your days in, before you met the love of your life.

At least, who you so stupidly believed to be the love of your life.

You get up with a start, the ache in your bones forgotten with the sheer emotions coursing through your veins, terror and disbelief and anger.

Your mind swims as you grab at anything you can, overturning furniture and messing up papers to find anything, anything, that could explain why this had happened.

Deep inside your chest, you had already known. Even if you managed to fool yourself. Even if you’d dreamt up a whole future of your life with her.

With a shuddering breath, your eyes fall to an envelope on your bedside table. You open it with trembling hands, almost fearful of what lay beyond.

In the envelope, contained a signed check with so many zeroes you could live luxuriously for the rest of days.

In the envelope, contained a note with five fated words and the name of the one that got away.

All you're left with is a broken promise, an agonized cry, and the ghost of what could've been.

To every universe and back,

N.R.

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

4.5k words my eyes are not okay i've been staring my screen and typing for two hours straight, look what i'm going thru for yall

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #x reader #top reader #dom reader #natasha romanoff smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #goddess natasha #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff angst

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biancadjarin · 11 months

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🍸🍒Modern!Eddie x Waitress!Reader🍒🍺

Blurb featuring Modern!Bartender!Steve

It’s only a Thursday night but the bar is slammed. It’s your second day and the other waitress, your supposed “trainer”, is nowhere to be found. Probably out back smoking another cigarette. You’re juggling 6 tables and one particularly difficult woman just flagged you down.

“Is everything ok ma’am?” You ask politely. “No, this wine is way too sweet. I wanted something dry. Bring me the pinto grigio!” She says as she pushes the full glass towards you. You smile and turn, rolling your eyes as you approach Steve and Eddie at the bar. Eddie’s sitting on his usual stool, drinking a beer while he scrolls on his phone. You lean onto the sticky bar top and wait for Steve to finish shaking a martini to get his attention.

Eddie eyes your profile, your cute face looking overwhelmed and stressed. He’s never seen you before, he usually knows all the new waitresses here. Fuckin’ Harrington, he thinks, always tries to keep the cute ones for himself.

“Hey.” Eddie says over the loud music, leather covered shoulders angling towards you. His fingers tap around the neck of his beer bottle. You glance at him, one eye still on Steve.

“Hi. Look, I’m swamped, if you want another beer, you gotta ask your bartender.” “No, no, it’s not that. Just- are you ok? Do I need to grab a tray and help you out?” He asks jokingly. You crack a smile at that, and Eddie’s heart starts beating faster.

“Cause I’m serious, I’ll take over. Drinks probably won’t go to the right people and I’d end up spilling food but, hey, fuck it.” He says with a shrug as he gulps the last of his beer. You shake your head and laugh, “please, I think you’re better off right here. I’m fine…” your eyes stare into his for the first time and you swear you feel the ground get pulled out from under you. He’s criminally hot. Like sculpted by the gods hot. Long hair framing the perfect bone structure of his face, two dimples poked into his cheeks as he smiles back at you. His eyes are like warm cups of hot cocoa, sweet and comforting. His worn in Black Sabbath T shirt contradicts his new iPhone 14 shining back at him.

“I’m Eddie. I’m a friend of Steve’s.” He nods toward the floppy haired bartender. “Y/n.” You say as you reach out a hand to shake his. He grabs your hand but he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he just holds it for a second. His warm, guitar string scarred fingers encircling your soft, cold ones. You giggle nervously as the butterflies are shaken awake in your stomach.

Steve appears out of nowhere, “bruh these frat douchebags are going to be the death of me, I think my arm’s going to fall off if I shake another martini.” he says to you and Eddie. You smile your most saccharine smile, “hey Stevie. The woman on 22 doesn’t like this wine. Can I switch it out for a pinot?” He growls in annoyance, “that’s a 7 ounce pour, y/n. you think Tito is gonna be ok with me just pouring that down the drain?” He asks you, referring to the manager. He raises his eyebrows as he throws a towel over his shoulder.

You shrug, “I guess not…” you mumble. “It’s coming out of your tips. Go write it down on the spill sheet.” Steve snaps as he pours the pinot grigio. “Ok, I will. Sorry Steve.” You say as you take the wine and head back to your tables.

“What the hell, man? S’not her fault some bitch didn’t like the shitty wine in this place.” Eddie says as he tosses a peanut at Steve. “How else is she going to learn?” Steve says as he rests his palms on the bar top. “This isn’t a daycare, I’m not here to hold her hand through life.”

“She’s fucking new, Harrington, give her a break.” Eddie says. Steve opens his mouth to argue before being cut off by a guy in a polo. “‘Nother dirty martini, barkeep!” Steve nods at him before looking back at Eddie. “You want another beer?” Steve asks him before he goes back to deal with the group of Chad’s and Dylan’s. Eddie shakes his head as he throws a 20 on the bar, licking his lips and winking at Steve.

He looks around the bar to say goodbye to you but he doesn’t see you. Everyone seems content, drinking their overpriced cocktails, eating their greasy food. Even the woman with the wine seems happy. The other waitress is back but now you’re gone. He heads toward the back door to leave, passing the digital jukebox that the frat bros have taken over-trolling everyone with Nickelback on repeat, passing the bathrooms and the breakroom.

You come out of the breakroom wiping under your eyes, sparkles that were once in your inner corner now smeared down your cheeks. “Scuse me.” You say as you try to squeeze past Eddie. “Hey, hey.” He says, hand coming up to cradle your elbow. “You good?” His eyebrows crinkle in concern, eyes scanning your face. You nod and try to squeak out a “mhm.” but more tears are threatening to spill.

“Was it what Steve said? I told him he’s being too harsh on you. I’m gonna go tell him what a dick he is, making you cry.” He says as he starts to turn around. “No! Please, I appreciate it but it’ll just make it worse. I can’t mess up this job. I just need to do better.” You say, sniffling. “Really. It’s fine.”

Eddie sighs deeply, looking back over his shoulder before turning to face you again. “He needs to do better. You’re doing great.” Eddie says, fingers squeezing the exposed flesh of your arm. You smile, looking up at Eddie and admiring his features in the low light, an old beer neon sign casting shades of blue and red across his face. The tight hallway is made even tighter with boxes and extra chairs lining the walls. This close to Eddie you can smell the beer on his breath, the weed on his shirt and the Cherry Smoke by Tom Ford on his jacket. You smile, “Thanks..”

He nods softly, dimples returning as he matches your smile. His phone starts to vibrate, the opening notes of For Whom the Bell Tolls by Metallica ringing from it. He looks at it before silencing it and focusing back on you. “I gotta go but can I text you later? You can tell me all about why a sweet, beautiful girl like you needs a job at a shitty dive bar so bad.” He opens up a new iMessage and hands his phone to you. You type in your number and text “Eddie” to yourself.

He takes the phone back from you putting 🖤🍒 after your name. “If Harrington gives you anymore shit, you let me know, ok?” He says before leaning in to kiss your cheek. You smile and nod, all words leaving your brain. He laughs softly as he whispers how cute you are and he heads toward the door.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #modern!eddie x reader

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cherubispunk · 8 months

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BITE MY TONGUE - Joel Miller x AFAB! Reader

summary: everything is kind of a mess. And it hurts when he sneaks in each night to see you as merely a warm body to sleep with. Never next to.

a note from lucy: I got emotional on my birthday and wrote this drunk on pinot grigio. I don't recommend unless you want to read your writing back in the morning and debate therapy.

wc: 1240 warnings: 18+ MDNI! unedited, smut, angst toxic relationship, dom!Joel and sub!reader dynamics.

Joel was a silent lover. His footfalls were as ghostly as the kiss he pressed to the column of your throat at night. You spent every moment painting the walls of your mind palace with colours of him. The brown of his eyes, the greying highlights of his hair. The red of his temper. A vivid image of him to keep you company in the colder mornings. The empty mornings.

He moved with the precision of a killer. A smuggler. Not a lover. You were the lover. He was the fighter. It was oddly poetic how he would steal away into your bedroom like Eros did to Psyche. His face; a known incarnation to you while it sought you out. Muscle memory took its hold of him, a storm raging in his gut and you were the heat that needed to burn it off. The heat between your thighs that is.

The way he loved you was poison. So self-destructive. Yet so comforting. You never knew pain quite like it, even with what he did in the darkest of the night. The secret he kept between him and the rain riddled, smog smothered, dirty, darkened streets his mind, and the sheets of your shared bed. How his growl could quite literally wrench your heart from your chest and tear it to shreds, but piece it back together like it was a delicate piece of china.

His hips would thrust with fever, letting his words fall short, shy of your ears. Decay into nothing but stale air. You’d crumble and decompose to mulch before he confided in you. But he cared, right? He still made you fall with a yelp of his name like clockwork. A well oiled machine.

Because he was that. A product of conditioning. A man of stone, set shoulders sloped in their broad frame only when he stilled to release. Bones groaned and muscles laid a well trodden route into soil. The soil and earth of your body that shivered like branches under him. Limbs splayed out and twisted into sheets while a fire of guilt pitted in your stomach. A gaping hole unfillable in his chest, a life of something messy. Something unsaid.

Dragged to the undertow, tangled in pondweed and drowned by stagnant water. Your lungs breathed him, absorbed him. What noise he gave you, nonsensical as it was, it was a relief there was something. Something you could do. Part your thighs.

It was; “Open your legs.” Never; “open your heart.”

The feeling of his fist colliding with skin shot hot thrills through his spine. The bruising peppered over his knuckles would have been a sign to reign it in but he just couldn’t. Not when the feeling of a man’s bone cracked under his own clenched, balled hand was screaming to be felt again. It was electrifying. Blood. Saliva. The mixture lacing gums and teeth that looked darker in these specific shadows.

Not all people crave physical contact in the same way. Some people seek it out in violence.

Lips, the texture of gravel, wind chapped, stayed parted to exhale puffs of air. But no word came. Just the steady build of pleasure, lights off to not see the grey of his lies. His silence. Seeping into the shadows…hiding from himself.

The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. That hot breath. Lost in the fog, lung hollow, now filled with him. His smell that snared your senses. Too late, not early enough. Burning wooden bridges passion encased with fire, like mere kindling. Surrounded. Trapped. But free. Missing him. Too late to come home. Anchoring him to you, in a silent pleading motion. A way to beg him not to leave. But it never stopped him shattering your heart into pieces when he did. Leave fragments on the floor like a destroyed glass. A heart of glass. Where were you when he was still kind?

Long pauses between words. Going and going until one spoke. Never him. Always you. Saliva in your mouth, pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess. Moans of pleasure and fear of losing him to the young daylight again.

You started to close your curtains sooner in the hope he wouldn't notice light and leave you soon.

Hums, moans, on your own. Biting your tongue to the words as you slipped from lust to love and then back to lust, teetering to love. His lust. Your love. Torture to the mind, medicine to the body. Struck by lightning. Hanged to him as if he was a branch, connected by rope to neck on body. Separated, severed by mind. Showing him where he fit and hands tailed between your thighs, parting your legs to see the gleam of your cunt in the low light of your bedside lamp. Street Lights put out. But just him. Just you. His messy kisses. His hurried movements. Racing you at visceral pace to a peak of pleasure unknown to others, A vast wasteland of discovery, To all but you it was untold. Unhinged. So painfully unkind.

Begging, pleading to feel like you were loved, Making you fall apart in good ways and bad. Heaven and hell no longer just words. They had meaning now smothered to them like the scent of rich perfume. Or rotting earth and mulch after torrential downpour. Not seeing, feeling. Smelling. Not hearing. Waiting.

Wasting.

No thinking it over before he tangled with you in the dead of night. In the haven of the dirty mattress, bare naked and sweaty desperate bodies of animalistic innate passion. Lust. Not love. Never love. A need. A release. A waiting game. Lust not love. A feeling. A reverend in church to preach his belief with a sermon of hips clashing with hips and teeth clashing with teeth. Tongues mingling in heat. Yelps, groans. Shrill cries for him. Nails in Joel's back, his teeth in your neck. Daggers. Digging in silk flesh. Making the two of you almost bleed in every hyperbolic and metaphorical sense. Every vowel, consonant, syllable. It was left unsaid to the room. Rattled in your mind, caving in your chest.

‘Stare at me with the lights out.’ You told him when he refused to be seen. “To escape.” “Touch me to be loved.” you wished to add. Pleaded to tell. To whisper through the slam in skin on skin and rustle of sheets through frantic speed.

Joel never shed his skin. Always held it close. It was hardened, an armour. Scars told a story. A tapestry you felt under fingertips. Fingers that grasped onto him, legs that hitched to his waist, pulling his hips closer, at his hilt inside you. Silent are his heartstrings. Lonely is your hope. Icy is your body.

One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. Its all you had ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough.

“You should tell me.” You would murmur once rolling to your side, not face him while your skin crawled like fire ants.

If we return our matter to the ground, if all that was to come…what is the point in trying?

And he would gruffly reply. “No.”

To do it all again in the twilight shadow of your heart.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel tlou #lu’s little bookshelf

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comicalcarnival · 11 days

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#comical update #as per my twit follower milestone thanks i shall have everyone vote on the prize :>#top two shall be made Real and given away as thanks #give or take. will probs do one rider one ultra knowing how i like to do things

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burninghoneyatdusk · 3 months

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Tag 9 people you want to get to know better / catch up with!

tagged by @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold — better late than never, thanks for the tag!!

Three (3) Ships: darklina (shadow & bone), daemyra (house of the dragon), bellarke (the 100)

First Ever Ship: I think tiva (ncis) was the first that truly had me in a chokehold

Last Song:

Last Movie: I'm not much of a movie person and I think the last I watched was It's A Wonderful Life on christmas eve...

Currently Reading: First Comes Scandal (Julia Quinn)

Currently Watching: The Killing

Currently Consuming: Just ate some chickpea pasta with broccoli, feta, honey, pesto, and parm

Currently Craving: mental health, the motivation to write, a glass of pinot grigio

#personal #tag games

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askwhatsforlunch · 1 year

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Turkey Osso Bucco

Veal is a rather expensive meat, but if you can find a good, cheap cut of turkey, you can still make a fragrant and hearty Turkey Osso Bucco. A most delicious dinner on a chill April night! Happy Tuesday!

Ingredients (serves 4):

2 ½ tablespoons olive oil

660 grams/1.45 pounds turkey thigh, cut into four thick slices, with the bone in

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

a dozen cremini mushrooms

half a dozen leaves fresh Basil

1 large garlic clove, minced

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 onion

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

1/2 teaspoon dried thyme

2 heaped teaspoons tomato paste

1 ½ tablespoon Modena Balsamic Vinegar

half a dozen over-ripe tomatoes, rinsed

half a dozen leaves fresh Basil

½ teaspoon fleur de sel or sea salt flakes

½ teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

1/2 cup dry white wine, such as Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay

2 tablespoons caster sugar

In a large, wide pot, heat olive oil over medium-high heat. Add turkey slices and brown on all sides, about 4 minutes. Transfer seared turkey slices to a plate; set aside.

Add butter to the pot, until melted.

Cut cremini mushrooms into thick slices, and add to the pot. Sauté, 1 minute. Finely chop Basil leaves and stir into the mushrooms, along with minced garlic. Cook, a couple of minutes more. Transfer most of the mushrooms to a plate, leaving a few in the pot; set aside.

Melt butter in the pot.

Peel and finely chop the onion.

When the butter is just foaming, stir in the onion, and cook, a couple of minutes until softened. Season with dried oregano and thyme. Stir in tomato paste, and cook out, 1 minute. Deglaze with Balsamic Vinegar, 1 minute.

Roughly chop tomatoes, and add, with all their juice, to the pot.

Finely chop Garden Basil, and stir into the pot. Cook, 1 minute more.

Return turkey and its juices to the pot, and give a good stir. Reduce heat to medium. Season with fleur de sel and black pepper. Stir in dry white wine, and cover with a lid. Simmer, about 10 to 15 minutes.

Remove the lid, and stir in caster sugar until melted. Cook, a couple of minutes more.

Serve Turkey Osso Bucco hot, over al dente tagliatelle.

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magicaldogtoto · 11 months

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#ultraman r/b #katsumi minato #isami minato #ultraman rosso #ultraman blu #grigio bone #kaiju #kyodai hero #tokusatsu #my posts

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pinkprettycure · 21 days

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HI WATCH ULTRAMAN R/B n_n

#Are you telling me Char broiled this burger?

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levineliquorsdenver · 4 months

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Seasonal Sips - Levine Liquors Denver's Picks

Welcoming the Blossoming Flavors of Spring

As the vibrant hues of spring unfold, so do the refreshing and invigorating flavors that characterize the season. In this extensive guide, we delve into the world of seasonal sips, unveiling Levine Liquors Denver's expert picks to elevate your springtime libation experience. From crisp wines to floral-infused spirits, let's explore the delightful palette of choices awaiting you at Levine Liquors Denver.

Embracing the Spring Spirit with Wine Selections

Crisp Whites for Sunny Days: Spring calls for wines that mirror the blossoming outdoors. Levine Liquors Denver recommends exploring a selection of crisp white wines, such as Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Grigio. These light and zesty options provide the perfect accompaniment to sunny days and outdoor gatherings.

Rosé Renaissance: No spring liquor list is complete without the resurgence of rosé wines. Levine Liquors Denver's curated collection showcases a spectrum of pink hues, from bone-dry Provencal styles to fruit-forward domestic varieties. Discover the perfect pink pour for picnics, brunches, and leisurely afternoons.

Blooming Flavors in Craft Beers

Floral Infusions: Craft breweries are embracing the essence of spring with floral-infused beers. Levine Liquors Denver invites you to explore unique brews incorporating botanicals like hibiscus, chamomile, and lavender. These beers offer a refreshing twist, capturing the essence of blooming gardens in every sip.

Light and Citrusy Brews: As temperatures rise, so does the appeal of light and citrusy beers. Levine Liquors Denver's selection includes a variety of wheat beers, session IPAs, and fruit-infused brews. These offerings provide a crisp and quenching experience, perfect for warm spring days.

Vibrant Spirits for Springtime Cocktails

Gin Revival: Gin takes center stage in spring cocktails with its botanical-forward profile. Levine Liquors Denver recommends exploring artisanal and small-batch gins, perfect for crafting refreshing cocktails like the classic Gin and Tonic or innovative botanical concoctions.

Floral Elixirs and Liqueurs: Elevate your mixology game with floral elixirs and liqueurs. Levine Liquors Denver showcases a selection of artisanal products infused with blossoms, adding a touch of elegance to your springtime cocktails. Experiment with lavender-infused vodka or elderflower liqueur for a truly aromatic experience.

Navigating the Seasonal Transition with Whiskeys

Light and Fruity Bourbons: While whiskey is often associated with colder months, Levine Liquors Denver suggests exploring lighter and fruitier bourbon options for the spring season. These whiskies bring a touch of warmth without overwhelming the palate, making them ideal for cool spring evenings.

Innovative Springtime Cocktails with Whiskey: Levine Liquors Denver encourages you to embrace whiskey in your springtime cocktail repertoire. From refreshing whiskey sours to floral highballs, discover inventive ways to incorporate this timeless spirit into your seasonal libations.

Enhancing Your Springtime Experience

Seasonal Tasting Events: Levine Liquors Denver frequently hosts seasonal tasting events, inviting customers to sample and discover new products. Attendees can explore the curated spring collection, receive expert insights, and engage with the local libation community.

Personalized Recommendations: One of the unique features of Levine Liquors Denver is its commitment to personalized recommendations. The knowledgeable staff is ready to guide customers through the seasonal selection, offering insights into flavor profiles, food pairings, and trending libation options.

Toasting to the Blooms and Breezes of Spring

As you navigate the blooming landscapes and breezy days of spring, let Levine Liquors Denver be your guide to a refreshing and flavorful wines and spirits experience. Whether you're sipping crisp wines, exploring craft beers, shaking up floral-infused cocktails, or savoring light whiskies, the curated selection at Levine Liquors Denver invites you to raise your glass to the vibrant spirit of the season. Cheers to springtime sips and the blossoming flavors that await!

Connect with Levine Liquors Denver to be a part of our lively community. Discover our dedication to elevating the local spirit scene at and become a valued member of our libation-loving community.

#spring liquors #seasonal drinks #craft beer trends #floral cocktails #rose wine selection #whiskey for spring #mixology inspiration #local liquors recommendation #tasting events

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dbgbgb · 6 months

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The Allure of White Wines: A Symphony of Elegance

White wines, with their diverse and captivating range of flavors, have held a cherished place in the world of wine for centuries. From the lively and zesty Sauvignon Blanc to the opulent and velvety Chardonnay, white wines offer a journey through the artistry of winemaking. In this comprehensive guide, we will embark on an exploration of the enchanting universe of white wines, delving into their history, popular grape varieties, winemaking techniques, and the art of pairing them with exquisite dishes.

Unveiling the History of White Wines The history of white wine is a tapestry woven through the broader narrative of winemaking. Ancient civilizations, including the Greeks and Romans, were among the first to appreciate the charm of white wine, documenting its production techniques and distinctive flavors. Their early fascination with white wine laid the foundation for the cultivation of specific grape varieties dedicated to white wine production, leading to the development of unique regional styles.

Over the centuries, white wine production has evolved, with vineyards around the world meticulously crafting these wines, each bottle bearing the legacy and craftsmanship of its place of origin.

An Expedition through White Wine Varieties The diversity of white wines is a result of the grape varieties used in their production, with each grape lending its unique character to the final product. Here are some of the most celebrated white wine varieties and their distinctive profiles:

Chardonnay Chardonnay, often referred to as the "Queen of White Wines," is celebrated for its versatility. Originating from the Burgundy region in France, Chardonnay grapes offer a wide range of flavors, from crisp and citrusy to rich and full-bodied. In a glass of Chardonnay, you may encounter notes of green apple, pear, and occasional hints of oak.

Sauvignon Blanc Sauvignon Blanc is renowned for its vibrant and herbaceous character. With its roots in the Loire Valley of France, this variety has found homes in various wine regions worldwide. It is often cherished for its lively acidity and flavors of green apple, gooseberry, and grass, making it a refreshing choice for wine enthusiasts.

Riesling Originating from Germany, Riesling offers a delightful range of sweetness levels. From bone-dry to lusciously sweet, Riesling caters to a broad spectrum of palates. Common aromas and flavors in Riesling include honey, citrus, and tropical fruits.

Pinot Grigio Hailing from Italy, Pinot Grigio is a light and crisp white wine with a refreshing character. It typically features flavors of green apple, lemon, and lime, making it a popular choice for casual sipping and pairing with a variety of dishes.

The Art of Crafting White Wines The production of white wine is a meticulously orchestrated series of steps aimed at extracting the grape juice's flavors while preserving the wine's clarity:

Harvesting Grapes intended for white wine production are typically harvested earlier than those for red wines to retain their natural acidity. The timing of the harvest is crucial in achieving the desired balance of sugars and acidity in the grapes.

Crushing and Pressing After harvesting, the grapes undergo gentle crushing and pressing to extract their juice. Unlike red wines, white wines are made by fermenting the juice without the grape skins, resulting in their characteristic clear appearance.

Fermentation The grape juice undergoes fermentation, during which yeast converts sugars into alcohol. This process can take place in stainless steel tanks, oak barrels, or a combination of both, with each vessel influencing the wine's character.

Aging White wines can be aged in various vessels, such as stainless steel, oak, or concrete. The choice of aging vessel and duration significantly impact the wine's flavor and complexity.

Bottling After aging, the wine is carefully filtered and bottled, ready to be savored by wine connoisseurs.

The Art of Pairing White Wines with Culinary Delights Pairing white wines with the right dishes can elevate the dining experience, creating harmonious flavor combinations. Here are classic pairings to consider:

Chardonnay Chardonnay's rich and buttery character makes it an ideal match for creamy dishes like lobster bisque, chicken Alfredo, or buttery scallops.

Sauvignon Blanc Sauvignon Blanc's vibrant acidity complements seafood dishes like oysters, shrimp scampi, and ceviche. It also pairs well with salads and dishes featuring citrusy flavors.

Riesling Riesling's versatility shines when paired with spicy cuisine, such as Thai or Indian dishes. Its sweetness balances the heat and creates a harmonious blend of flavors.

Pinot Grigio Pinot Grigio's light and crisp character makes it an excellent companion for salads, grilled vegetables, and light pasta dishes. It's a refreshing choice for warm-weather dining.

White Wines from Around the World White wines are produced in diverse regions across the globe, each offering its unique terroir and characteristics. Here are some noteworthy regions known for their white wine production:

Burgundy, France Burgundy is celebrated for its Chardonnay wines, known for their elegance and complexity. The region's unique soil and climate create the ideal conditions for producing exquisite white wines.

Napa Valley, California Napa Valley is renowned for its Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc wines. The region's warm climate and fertile soil contribute to the bold and fruity flavors found in these wines.

Marlborough, New Zealand Marlborough, situated on the northern tip of New Zealand's South Island, is famous for its crisp and aromatic Sauvignon Blanc. The region's cool climate produces wines with intense tropical fruit notes.

In Conclusion White wines invite us to embark on a captivating journey through a world of diverse flavors and aromas, catering to a wide range of preferences. Whether you favor the opulence of Chardonnay or the freshness of Sauvignon Blanc, white wines have the power to elevate any occasion. Understanding the winemaking process and the art of pairing them with cuisine can enrich your wine-tasting experience. Exploring white wines from various regions allows you to appreciate the unique terroir of each location and the stories they tell through their wines.

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