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#i HAVE to know. i have to find The Truth™

rxzennia · 3 days

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picky eater

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 leviathan? dog under the table! avvy, won’t you come home in 18 hours 30 minutes? final tribute to you before your release <3

aventurine shows up in your office without knocking, as he often does. you look up from your work, raising a brow – you’ve gotten so used to him doing this that you’ve given up asking him what he wants altogether.

“what, i can’t even visit my own secretary?” he teases, trotting up to your desk and setting down a delicate bag of… something. “lunch, my dear, lunch. you skipped it again, didn’t you?”

you ignore his pet name for you and stare at the bag, then at him, then back at the bag

it’s quite endearing how he tries to make sure you eat regularly

even though your composition doesn’t quite need you to eat the way other people do

not that you can’t, you just don’t really need to, so you don’t

it’s just less effort for you and more efficiency

but who are you to deny your boss’s goodwill?

“thank you,” you say, giving the entire bag a quick sniff. “the usual?”

“the usual.” he confirms

more like if he gets anything else there’s quite a high chance that you won’t like it

he’s realized that you’re picky as hell

even though you literally eat monsters for fun

okay, maybe not for fun

his point still stands, though

when it comes to your taste buds they’re the most hard to please things ever

it’s okay, someday he’ll find your favorite foods

in the meantime he’ll keep getting you stuff he knows you’ll eat

this information is obtained through trial and error, by the way

read: a lot of trials and a lot of errors. mostly errors

you flash him a small smile under your scarf

he doesn’t miss it; he’s known how to read your expressions by the changes in your eyes now

you set your papers aside and carefully put the few boxes of takeout on your desk

you have limited space on your desk because of the way you set it up

you don’t like big, wide spaces

when you finally pull down your scarf, aventurine’s entire person lights up with joy.

“what?” you ask, because he looks like that every time he sees your face.

“nothing,” aventurine chuckles, “just thinking about how you used to kick me out whenever you had to take off your scarf.”

you look at him from the corner of your eyes, your spoonful of rice half-raised

you are unimpressed

“would you like me to kick you out?” you offer very kindly

so cold

but he knows you’re not actually going to kick him out

still. so cold.

“hey, i brought you food!” he whines

you nod in agreement. “and i said thank you.”

why are you like this

please, as much as he loves these back-and-forths with you, have some mercy

then again the sight of you eating well is really heartwarming

plus the fact that he’s the one who's treating you

worth it 10/10

you’re using utensils like everyone else, but somehow you still eat really quickly?

what in the sorcery

you finish the contents in the boxes that smell familiar

the trustworthy boxes™

and that leaves you with… one delicate little box

it smells… ominous. like a crime against your tongue.

you look at aventurine with doubt in your eyes. what is he trying to feed you this time?

“cake,” he says, “i asked around for the best cafe in town.”

“you asked topaz.” you slowly take off the ribbon and open the box.

ouch, must you be so truthful?

because who else is he supposed to go to for these things?

it’s not like he can just ask anyone!

and he really wants to know your preference towards sweet things

you’ll eat very, very lightly sweetened things

but what about proper dessert?

you’re gentle towards the box; you’re staring at the canary-shaped cake

more examining than staring, actually

seems like you appreciate intricately decorated things

he’s making a mental list of things you like and don’t like

even though you’re not very cooperative with him on this

c’mon, he wants to know everything about you! he wants to treat you right! let him!!!

(you do not know of the existence of such a list)

you pick up the mini cake and sniff it

pokes it with your tongue when you think it passes your sniff test

sweet, but nothing too bad so far

time to take it further

you try a tiny bite in the corner

your senses get assaulted by sugar, if that even makes sense

no. 0/10 would not recommend.

but you keep your face blank so as to not be blatantly obvious

“hmm.” you set the pastry down on your desk like you’re deep in thought.

“how is it? you like it?” aventurine awaits your answer eagerly, watching you closely. a little too closely, to be honest.

“please do not ever visit that store for cakes again.” you say, getting a spoonful of the unbitten side and offering it to your boss. “mm.”

you’re telling him to try it?

the way you’re asking is so adorable

not even words, just a little hum and a small wave of the spoon

he does have a try of the cake

and have you feed him while he’s at it

very happy right now

would be better if the cake wasn’t sugared like it’s a day’s calories concentrate

he understands your response now

trying his best to not cringe

also knows to never ask topaz for dessert recommendations again

“if you don’t like it, let’s just toss it out,” he suggests, because he wouldn’t be able to stomach that either

you got this from him

territorial snake moment when he tries to take it from your hands

you hiss

jumpscare, he did not expect that

also oddly happy that you’re protective of the stuff he gives you

also concerned

“you’re not going to force yourself to eat that, are you…?”

“what are you saying, of course not,” you say, setting the barely-eaten canary cake on your desk all the while keeping aventurine’s hands away from it.

then your scarf comes and swallows the thing in one gulp.

what.

“it…” aventurine points a shaky finger at the white fabric that morphed into a faceless serpent’s head at the ends. “it ate it? just like that?”

“if it can swallow monsters whole, it can eat an overly sweet cake.” you shrug, finally wiping your mouth and pulling your scarf back up.

aventurine’s jaw would be on the floor if it was physically possible. unfortunately, it isn’t. “i thought you could still taste when your scarf eats things?”

“monsters.” you reply, patting your scarf as it settles into a regular piece of cloth again, “it tastes monsters. not food.”

so that's how you managed to finish even the things you absolutely hate? by having your scarf eat it?

aeons, there’s still so much he has yet to learn about you, isn't there?

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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shellshocklove · 8 months

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i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy, for proofreading this

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly – he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately.

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all – you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl.

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention.

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.”

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling.

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you – his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I–” you started, but he cut you off,

“You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure.

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #the last of us smut #tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #inexperienced!reader #70s AU

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artificial-transmutations · 7 months

Text

Beating Recession

Recession sucked, that much was clear to Logan even before he checked his email inbox. When he saw a few replies to his job applications from the last days, he sighed. He didn't need to open the mails to know that the news was bad, but he did so anyway.

"We regret to inform you..." - Logan didn't even read on. He had lost his job as an apprentice electrician about half a year ago. The company was going under, and Logan, the youngest and least experienced worker, was the first to go. That's how it was in this business. Since then, he had applied to every single position that came up - but apparently, the current economic situation was so bad that nobody needed another worker.

Logan had hoped that his apprenticeship would get him a job, but the fact that he was only 20 and had not much practical experience hurt him. Slowly, money was becoming a pretty big problem. Whatever savings he had (for some real estate of his own! As if that was going to happen!) had melted away over the last months. His rent was due, and he had no income.

In fact, he was one month late with his rent already, and although his landlord had been cool about it, Logan did not see how he would be able to keep his apartment. He really, really wanted to avoid moving back in with his parents who had their own problems, too.

So, what was he going to do? There wasn't much more to do than keep looking for a job, even though his chances were slim.

He opened LinkedOut and looked for openings, just as he had done multiple times before this week. The sparse list of jobs had not changed, so Logan scrolled on.

He was about to give up again when a listing caught his eye.

"Escape unemployment today! Change™ job agency will find the perfect job, for the perfect you. Apply here!"

He had heard of such agencies before, and the results were not pretty. Usually, they just took the applicants' data and sold it on. They would claim to have found a job for you, but it usually wouldn't work out, and the applicant would have paid money for this useless service. Still, Logan was curious enough to click the link. If they wanted money, he would back out immediately - it was not like he had any to spare.

To Logan's big surprise, when he clicked the link, a new page opened, with a web-based chat interface. Before he could close the tab again, there was already a message in the window. It read:

"Kevin: Hey, and welcome to the Change™ job agency. My name is Kevin. How may I help you today?"

It was a nice surprise that they didn't try to sell him anything or even ask for his data before he had entered the website. Well, no harm done. He might as well give them a try. Hesitating slightly, Logan's fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed:

"Hi. I'm Logan and I'm looking for a new job."

The answer came quickly, but not so quickly that Logan would suspect the other person to be a chatbot. After some moments, Kevin's reply appeared on the screen:

"Great. What kind of job are you looking for? And what kind of salary are we talking?"

Logan considered the questions. This was probably the point where they would ask him for his data. He silently cursed his excessive caution. Of course, they had to ask these questions. How else should they offer him anything?

"Uhm. My last job was as an apprentice electrician, but at this point I would be pretty happy about just any job. The salary should be high enough to pay my rent."

Logan hesitated before hitting enter. He didn't want to come over as quite so desperate, but the truth was, he was.

"Okay, no problem. Do you have a preferred working sector?"

What a weird question. Why did it matter what industry he preferred?

"Uhm, not really. I guess anything is fine."

"Very well. Before I look up what's there in our database, I would need some basic information about you. Namely gender, age, ethnicity and sexual orientation."

"Wait. What does my sexual orientation have to do with a job? Besides, why do you need to know my ethnicity? Is this even legal?"

Logan had typed furiously and pressed enter before thinking about his reply.

"I understand your confusion. We here at the Change™ job agency strive to find not only a job, but the best job for the best you, so we need to know what we're working with. It wouldn't be very appropriate to apply a person as an actress who is really good at sports, now would it? Of course, you have to understand that your answers are confidential and will not be disclosed to any third parties, especially not your future employer."

That was fishy deluxe. Logan really didn't want to feed some unknown job agency all that highly personal information. On the other hand,... what did he have to lose?

"Well, I guess it can't hurt. Uhm. I'm a male, 20 years old, I would call myself white and I'm heterosexual."

"Wonderful. One last question: Are you comfortable with nudity and public sexual activities?"

"Wait, WHAT? I mean, uhm, sure, I guess? I mean, why should I need that?"

"This question is purely to determine if we should also have a look in the adult entertainment section of our job offerings. Alright Logan, please stand by while I enter your data into our search engine."

Logan leaned back. He felt a bit uneasy about all that. But it was not like his answers could lead them directly to his apartment, so he felt relatively safe.

A minute or so passed, and Logan started to think that he had been tricked after all, but just as he was about to close the tab, a new message appeared.

"Sorry for the delay, I had a few calls. We found two jobs that could be a fit. The first one is an office job in a big insurance company. To be honest, it's not that good of a fit and it doesn't pay very well either."

"That's fine." Logan wrote. He was incredibly on edge now. Could it really be so easy to find a new job? And he even had a choice?

"What's the other one?" he added to his previous message.

"Okay, the other job is a bit more unconventional, but we have the feeling it could be a great match. It's an actor position in the porn industry, at the famous XXX Incorporated."

"Porn? What? Are you serious? I mean, I don't have anything against porn or nudity or whatever, but I'm not sure if this is the kind of job I want."

Logan felt mixed feelings. The prospect of being some office drone sounded pretty uninteresting and a low pay wasn't all that good either. But a porn actor? Logan had to admit, the thought felt somewhat interesting, but he doubted he had what it took for that? Weren't porn stars famously hung and well-built? That was certainly not Logan. Just as he pondered those thoughts, Kevin's answer appeared:

"I understand Sir. So, should we continue with the first job opening then?"

Logan bit his lip, but the curiosity got the better of him.

"Wait. What does the second job entail? I mean, I'm not exactly... equipped for the porn business."

"Well, as I have said: It's an actor position, so you would star in some new adult entertainment productions. While I understand your modesty, our records show that you are more than adequately gifted for this kind of job."

Logan felt confused. He absentmindedly scratched his crotch before he replied:

"Uhm, sorry, I don't think you understand. I don't really think my..." Logan paused. Was he really going to write that? It was embarrassing, but at least he could be reasonably sure he would never meet this Kevin in real life. So, he continued:

"... penis is big enough for such a position."

The answer came promptly.

"Really? Better have a look to be sure ;-)"

A winking smiley? That wasn't very professional. Actually, the whole sentence wasn't. Still, Logan couldn't stop himself from glancing at his crotch. What he saw made him take a double take. His soft cock was forming a visible and ample bulge in his jeans. Logan knew that he was slightly smaller than average, so that was ridiculous. It was almost a... a porn star-sized bulge!

He stared at his package, but it wasn't growing any smaller. With trembling hands, he opened his jeans. Immediately, a well-filled pair of boxers escaped the confinement of his jeans. The dick print of his soft member was clearly visible in his underwear, and it wasn't just much bigger than Logan remembered. It was among the biggest bulges he had ever seen in his life!

His hands explored the impressive manhood through his underwear and felt every centimeter of the hardening dick. He had no idea what had caused this growth, but he wasn't complaining. Before he could interact more with it, however, he noticed another message on the screen.

"Are you still there, Sir?"

"Sorry, yes." Logan hurried to reply. What was he going to write? "I was below average just a few moments ago but now I have one of the biggest cocks in human history"?

Instead, Kevin answered.

"Good! I trust you had a chance to inspect your assets?"

"Uhm, yes."

"So, have you made up your mind, or should I look into the office position?"

Logan was torn. He wasn't sure what he had seen just a moment ago. Still, his enormous cock that was half-hard in his boxers was there, undeniably.

"Let's go with the porn star position." Logan finally typed, and his heart was racing.

"Very good! Now, as I mentioned, the position is in the adult entertainment sector. Do you know the company XXX Incorporated?"

Logan thought quickly about it before replying: "No, sorry, never heard of them."

"That is not at all surprising, since they specialize in the adult sector for homosexual men. According to your data, you identify as heterosexual. I hope that won't be a problem?"

Of course, there was a catch. Logan had heard about these gay for pay people and he hesitated yet again. They paid well, supposedly, but...

"Uhm. Would that mean I would need to be on the receiving end?" He wasn't too close-minded and could imagine kissing another man if he had to, perhaps even receiving a blow job from one. But having another person fuck him in the ass? No, that was way beyond his comfort zone.

"I believe the technical term you are looking for is 'to bottom'." Kevin replied, and added another message shortly after:

"But the company is, in fact, looking for a 'top' actor. They put it like this: 'We are looking for a well-built top for our new productions.'"

Logan was relieved. While he was a gold star gay man (why did he put 'heterosexual'? That was utter bullshit!), he was a strict top. This position sounded better and better. Still, one thing raised some new doubts.

"Hold on. I'm hung like a horse, but I wouldn't say I'm very muscular or even fit. I'm not much of a gym goer."

"Are you sure ;-)?"

Again, with the winking smiley! Kevin sounded so very professional most of the time, but then there were these messages. Logan scratched the back of his shoulder with some effort. Whenever he raised his arms so high the mountains of muscle on his upper arms danced and made it difficult to reach his back. Logan suddenly realized that something had changed - again! His shirt strained against his muscular chest, and as he lifted his shirt, he could see some cobblestone abs on an otherwise flat stomach. His calves had become thicker and strong. His jeans, which had felt slightly loose earlier, now seemed to be getting tighter.

Logan had never been very athletic. His body was lean, but not fit or muscular. That had certainly changed. When he looked at himself, he hardly recognized himself anymore. A huge dick, and a studly body.

Logan shook his head and let the shirt fall again. Whatever was going on, it was not a bad thing, was it?

"Alright, so I'm a buff top with a big cock. Is there anything else?" he smiled as he wrote that.

"Actually, there is one further requirement, but given your cooperation so far I don't believe it will be much of a problem either." Kevin replied, in his professional tone again.

"And what would that be?" Logan was intrigued.

"The company is especially looking for a, and I cite, 'huge, dominant Black top with large dick. Intellectual capabilities are not required'. Are you feeling up to that task? ;-)"

This time, Logan immediately raised his shirt to watch his body change. As soon as he read the words, his skin began darkening, first a golden bronze and then a rich black. It was a gradual change but happened very quickly. His muscles became even more defined, and his body hair thickened and grew even darker.

He didn't know what 'intellectual capabilities' meant, but as his body grew larger and thicker, he felt a strange fog entering his mind. It was a little unsettling at first, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. His usual thoughts quickly became overshadowed by his raising libido. As he grabbed his huge, Black throbbing cock, a dominant smirk crept on his mouth.

He turned his attention back to the computer and typed:

"Yeah, baby. I think I can make that happen. Just tell me who to fuck and I'll be there!"

He saw Kevin reply with a street address and a date and time, but Logan decided he would read that later. Now, his cock demanded his entire attention. He absentmindedly noticed his webcam turning on but paid it little attention. If Kevin wanted to watch him jerk his fat cock, he was very welcome to. After all, he just helped him find the job of his life!

That's certainly a way to beat recession! Also check out this blog!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #straight to gay #dumbing down #racial transformation

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nyerusnova · 8 months

Text

Glad to see that Tim being a giant Dick Grayson fanboy is finally being highlighted again, and sparking more discussion especially on their early relationship! (Please gimme more!!! I love them so much, augh!)

Probably as a result of that surge, there seems to be reciprocal chatter on the topic of how young Tim actually felt towards Jason, too. It's honestly pretty interesting, because it's more nuanced than it appears at first glance.

Which means it's very fun to dissect! ✨

There's a degree of subjectivity to keep in mind, because readers are going to have different interpretations of the same scenes, or will pull from entirely different scenes than one another to form their individual view on this topic. That's just how it is in comic book fandom, for many things! Regardless, in this case... if the scale ranges from the extreme of "Jason was Tim's Robin" to the other extreme of "Tim actually hated Jason [as Robin] or thought he was a loser that got himself killed" — the actual truth is closer to the middle, as is often the case.

At least, in my opinion.

Mainly I want to focus on those relatively early days with this post, to highlight Tim's initial(-ish) feelings towards his heroes, and touch on the point at which they really begin to change. This turned into a very long post, though. Brevity is beyond my skill, so grab snacks and water lol. Transcripts for each image will be posted at the very end under the cut.

So, the two storylines I want to cover are "Rite of Passage," which is rolls into "Identity Crisis." (NOT to be confused with the major crossover event "Identity Crisis™" which came years later, and is where Jack Drake dies.... But it sure is an interesting coincidence that Tim deals with the loss of each parent in two similarly named stories!) These take place before Tim is even Robin, and I'll be considering them as one arc for this post.

Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 (July, 1990) -- Pages 1 & 2

"When Gotham needed him, he was there. When the Batman needed him, he was there. He was a hero."

"One day, I'll be as good as Jason. One day I'll wear the suit."

To start off, we have this opening from "Rite of Passage." Tim is still in training here, mainly helping Bruce with minor stuff from the cave. His parents are off traveling, alive and well as of these next few pages. He's still bright-eyed and full of wonder. An extraordinarily weird but ultimately innocent kid.

So his view on Jason is positive and fairly simple: a hero, and someone to look up to as Robin. Clearly, Tim here doesn't think Jason was deficient in his role, either as a protector of Gotham or as Batman's trusted partner.

Moreover, Tim already held Dick in very high regard because he was amazingly skilled before he became Robin. To Tim, that's not something he'll ever be able to achieve. Meanwhile, Jason wasn't like that. He was a regular kid without crazy acrobatic training since practically birth. Yet he still went on to be a hero—which is obviously motivational for Tim who finds himself in similar shoes.

It's true that Tim only ever knew or thought of Jason as Robin, and idolized him in that regard. But that's kind of all that mattered to him at that point, because he was this kid who was utterly star-struck by his heroes. Even if he's technically aware of their shortcomings as people, it's overshadowed by the hero-worship.

It was kind of the same with Bruce as Batman at first. (Which was still enough for Tim to risk life and limb to help his beloved hero, before Bruce even knew his name.) Dick was the only one Tim had any sort of "personal" relationship with beforehand, so there is an extra level of attachment—and hence why it was the nidus for his obsession with Batman. Yet even then, it wasn't like he actually knew anything about Dick as a person until later. Until then, Tim's ideas of him were all he had, too. With Jason, Tim just didn't get to know him at any point before his return (oof), apart from what he heard over the years secondhand (also oof).

Ultimately, it's the loss of innocence—along with the ricocheting bullet that is the unresolved guilt of those around him—that begins to change Tim's perception. Not just of Jason, but of things in general.

Batman vol. 1 #455 (Oct., 1990) -- Page 13

"I know why they do it now. Why they put on the suits, and the masks, and go out into the night. They're angry, they're full of rage. They want to hit back."

Losing his mother was a major shift for Tim, obviously. This is right after the previous storyline, and Tim's had the worst week or two of his life (so far). His monologue here is a reference to what happened to both Dick and Jason. The unbearable pain of loss, the rage masking the grief underneath. And importantly, that he feels both of them were justified in their anger. (And Bruce too, indirectly.)

The major theme of the aptly named "Identity Crisis" is to mirror aspects of Dick and Jason and Tim's lives—to show how they converged onto the same tragic road. It's something that Tim notices early in the story, and was frightened by. Now, horrifically, it's become a part of him as well. His parents are gone, and he was entirely helpless to do anything about it. Dick was the same way, Jason was the same way. The cycle is repeated.

In particular, the part about him wanting to go to Haiti for revenge—for his mother—sort of struck me as being an intentional parallel to Jason and Ethiopia. It's a bit of a stretch, especially in isolation, so others may see it differently (e.g. the angry ramblings of a grieving child that does sound like something anyone might say). But it always stuck out to me because of how much Tim is compared directly to Jason in this arc. More on that below.

It's not something I can really give an accurate feel of because it's a lot of subtle things that begin to add up, so I'd encourage folks to read this arc themselves to see what I mean. (Or maybe you'll still disagree which is fine too lol.) Again, many things are in reference to both Dick and Jason in relation to Tim, but it's weighted more on Jason's side.

Batman vol. 1 #455 (Oct., 1990) -- Page 18

"You think my anger will boil over, the way Jason's did. I can assure you, it won't!"

Tim's grief has begun to pull away the veil of idealism that enshrouded his heroes in his mind. It doesn't apply only to Jason, but to the rest of them. Plus add the fact that Tim's keenly aware that he's being managed, even if the adults around him are careful to not outright say certain things. He still knows.

Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all worried about Tim potentially turning into "another Jason." They (and mainly Bruce) caution Tim to not ignore his emotions, but they're still concerned that he may be overly eager to prove himself in order to cope, and could get hurt or killed as a result. While they aren't wrong for their caution—especially at how unsettlingly similar all the circumstances are—they aren't very subtle about the elephant in the room.

Imagine how that would affect Tim's perception of his predecessor, especially when he's in the midst of a traumatic event he hasn't had time to fully process. The negative association is pretty much inevitable.

Tim's known from day one that he's walking in Jason's shadow, and now it's become inescapable. Tim went from seeing Jason as a goal to reach, to feeling that unless he surpasses him, he wasn't going to be taken seriously by anyone. However, as of this arc, Tim doesn't even fully come to that point yet.

Batman vol. 1 #456 (Nov., 1990) -- Pages 14 & 15

"Drop-outs don't make it. And dead heroes are no use to anyone!"

It's really easy to take away "Tim totally thought Jason got himself killed" as the main thing here, but I think that's missing the forest for the trees.

First some context: Bruce has gone out on a mission to get Scarecrow, and expressly forbade Tim from doing any shenanigans. Meanwhile, Tim is grappling with wanting to prove himself and trying to help Bruce from the cave, all while trying to deal with his emotions. At some point, he falls asleep and ends up having like... exhaustion-grief hallucinations of Dick!Robin and Jason!Robin who confusingly caution yet encourage him. The main theme of this part is facing your fears.

Depending on how you want to interpret the intent of Jason's dialogue here, you could go several ways with it. Ranging from "writer's feelings towards Jason" to "a peek into Tim's mind as his fears manifest as visions of his heroes" or some mixture thereof.

Though Tim argues with Bruce that Batman needs a Robin, we're shown that Tim is understandably scared of joining Batman's "war." He's still not willing to let Bruce go it alone, though, and that's something he feels more strongly than his fear.

Meanwhile, hallucination!Jason's warnings are a lamentation of what happened to him in a way, but it actually exactly describes Tim's current situation even more so. Unlike Jason, Tim is under-trained, under-experienced, doesn't even have a suit of his own yet. But like Jason, he can't sit by and do nothing while someone he cares about is in danger. Tim knows that if he goes out there, he will probably get himself killed, and it will be his own fault. So he's about to disobey Batman's orders, and fly right into danger. If that got Jason killed, then Tim—who is in a way worse position experience-wise—has every chance of ending up the same.

Like... it's about Jason, but it's also about Tim. It's Tim's worst fears made manifest, via the representation of why he is even here in the first place (Jason's death).

That's my theory anyway, but perhaps this is an overly charitable reading of this scene on my end. (Not that I think that makes me wrong lol.) However given that Grant wrote both parts of this arc, and the beginning of which is especially favorable towards Jason, it certainly is something to ponder. I have a lot of thoughts on it I can't expand on here tbh but perhaps that'll be another post.

Anyway, returning to the point of the similarities vs differences between Tim and Jason: since this is the arc that solidified Tim as the next Robin in comic continuity, it makes sense that the writers really pushed the comparisons between the two of them, specifically. (Even though Dick was pretty similar, as going against Batman's orders is the Robin thing to do, it's not his shoes Tim is directly filling.) So making Tim's "debut" story arc mirror Jason's "swansong" is an obvious narrative choice.

To drive home the parallels, I wanted to include this panel from just a few pages prior to the "daydream":

Batman vol. 1 #456 (Nov., 1990) -- Page 9

"The suit is magic."

That so distressingly close to Jason's famous "being Robin gives me magic" line (Batman #385, page 6). Given all the previous context, it's hard for me to just dismiss it as pure coincidence. Even if it is, the point still stands. Tim is shown having the some of the same heartbreakingly naive views as Jason once did, right in front of Jason's memorial, just as he's about to go and run off into the night against orders.

I think that speaks for itself. There's a lot to take away from it, if you so choose. Especially given the context of that specific Jason arc.

Alright, back to the main course:

So in the end, Tim actually goes out in civvies and a ski mask because if he fails, then at least he wouldn't bring shame to Robin's legacy™. When he gets fear gassed saving Batman, it's once again both Dick and Jason that he hallucinates encouraging him to push past his fear. (Shout out to the fact that he's literally more afraid of tarnishing the legacy of Batman & Robin than he is of dying.... I'm sure this will not be a recurring thing for him in the future.)

Tim's ideology is shown to be similar to Jason's, and the actions Tim ultimately takes are similar to Jason's... but the outcome is different. And it really isn't just "Tim succeeded where Jason failed." At least, that's not what I took away from this. Rather, Tim had no reason to succeed any more than he had to fail, just that he did. Luck combined with caution because he knew what happened to his predecessor, and the fact that Batman was there to finish the job all made the difference.

You could say (and I know some will) that it's just classic Jason character assassination and the writers trying to implore readers that this new kid is different we promise pls don't hate us look how much better he is! But in this case, that feels like it undermines the whole point of this story. It doesn't fit with what the characters actually say.

Thus, we return to the question of how Tim felt towards his predecessor. And the answer is different from where we started, because Tim is different. Not that different though. Because even though at this point Tim—like all the adults around him—has probably attributed Jason "going off on his own" being what led to his death, Tim still thought of him as a hero to look up to. It's about Robin, first and foremost, yes. But Tim is fully aware of the people who made that suit mean what it does, because it's all intertwined.

Batman vol. 1 #457 (Dec., 1990) -- Page 20

"I mean--Dick made it into a symbol the whole world knows. Jason gave his life for it."

Even further, Tim thinks of it in terms of Jason having given his life for what he believed in, for the legacy that now falls to Tim. There's a sense of gravitas there. He's afraid of failing both the Robins who came before him.

Ultimately do I think Tim adored and loved Jason on the same level as Dick or something? No. It's not comparable. (Dick was like part of some of Tim's earliest memories and everything! They have a really unique bond ok.) Yet Tim was also far from thinking poorly of Jason so early on. Frankly, it seems that Tim thought of Jason as a noble hero and a cautionary tale. Yes he took risks and sometimes went too far, generally stuff that Tim doesn't want to repeat and all that. At the same time, Tim still saw him as someone whose legacy and memory was worth honoring.

It's complicated, which is why I like it so much—because it feels real. Having conflicting feelings towards someone is... so human. Especially someone you never got to know, yet who plays such an integral role in your life via the shadow of their death. How can you feel anything but complicated towards them?

It has to be said that, yes, Tim's views—even before Jason's return—change over the years. He becomes more jaded as a person and is surrounded by people who are even more jaded than him... and who often mention Jason as the "failed Robin." It's something that's hung over Tim's head all the damn time. The curse of the Robin mantle.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise that Tim's idea of him becomes more akin to "sounds like a skill issue" as the years go by. All bets are off after Jason's return, and the Titans Tower Incident™. At that point it's firmly "I am better than you, loser" lmao.

And... that's all without getting too into things like authorial intent and general "moods" of different DC writers towards Jason at a given point. Or retcons that played a role in his characterization and how other characters talk about him, depending on what "era" you're reading. That's way beyond the scope of this post though!

TLDR; even though young Tim Drake was obsessed with Dick Grayson as Robin, he still looked up to Jason Todd as well. He didn't think of Jason as a cringefail loser until later. :)

(image dialogue transcripts under cut ↓)

Dialogue Transcript for Image 1 (Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 -- Page 1):

Narration box (Tim): When Gotham needed him, he was there. When the Batman needed him, he was there. He was a hero.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 2 (Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 -- Page 2):

(Scene continued from previous page)

Narration box: But he was nothing special, really. Just a boy, who was taught--trained--brought to his full potential by someone who knew how. Just a boy... like me. I know I can do it. I know I can. One day I'll be as good as Jason. One day I'll wear the suit. One day I'll be a hero.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 3 (Batman vol. 1 #455 -- Page 13):

Tim: I hate him! I hate him! I know why they do it now. Why they put on the suits, and the masks, and go out into the night. They're angry. Full of rage. They want to hit back. They want to fill the hole that's burning inside them.

Bruce: There's more to it than that, son. Much more.

Tim: I know. It's just--I feel--like going to Haiti myself and strangling that creep with my bare hands!

Bruce: The Obeah Man will spend the rest of his life in a prison hospital. He's history. Forget him! But don't fight against your anger. It's natural. Accept it. Live with it. One day it'll be your friend.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 4 (Batman vol. 1 #455 -- Panels from page 18):

Tim: Because you think my mother's death has upset me too much. Well, it did. But I've taken your words to heart. I can cope. You think my anger will boil over, the way Jason's did. I can assure you, it won't. But that doesn't make any difference, does it? Why can't you have a little faith in me?

Dialogue Transcript for Image 5 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Page 14):

Narration box (Tim): Blast it! My head's starting to swim. I'm about ready to give up. I almost wish I'd never heard of Batman and Robin!

Vision Dick: Heroes never give up, Tim.

Vision Jason: You know that.

Tim: Dick--! Jason Todd!

Vision Dick: You're training to fight in a war, Tim. It'll last all your life. No matter what, you have to go on fighting.

Vision Jason: Drop-outs don't make it. And dead heroes are no use to anyone! I thought I knew better than Batman. I thought I could run before I could walk. I killed myself, Tim. Because I couldn't wait. Because I couldn't think it through.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 6 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Page 15):

(Scene continued from previous page)

Vision Dick: Think, Tim. Concentrate!

Vision Jason: You can do it.

Both: You can do it!

Tim, waking up: What--? Robin...?

Narration box (Tim): I must have been daydreaming. They're right, though. There's a solution to everything. I can find it! So here I go again... Whim. Caprice. Doing something without forethought.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 7 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Panel from page 9):

Narration box (Tim): The suit is magic. It gives you power. It hides your weakness. It makes you give it everything you've got. It makes you a hero. If only I could!

Dialogue Transcript for Image 8 (Batman vol. 1 #457 -- Page 20):

Bruce: Are you afraid of it?

Tim: No. It isn't fear. It's more... the suit carries so much history. I mean--Dick made it into a symbol the whole world knows. Jason gave his life for it. Failing them--what they fought so hard to build--that's what worries me!

Bruce: I appreciate that, Tim. That costume weighs a whole lot more than any symbol should... and I'd be failing you if I expected you to bear that weight. So... let me know what you think.

Narration box: A mask has a double edged, he said. It hides your own anxiety as it strikes fear into your enemy.

#tim drake #jason todd #dcu #dc comcis #batfamily #meta #I'm so sorry this post got out of hand fr #it was meant to be a quick drabble with some comic panels and instead i just...... kept going #this post is specifically for my one (1) bestie who cares and the like 2 ppl who might be as insane as me about Timmy #idk why I'm like this im just obsessed with Tim's relationship with early Batfam & co lately???#late 80 and early 90s comics my beloveds......#anyway if this gets more than 5 notes i'll be shocked and scared lol #nyerus.txt #text post #long post

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touyasdoll · 8 months

Text

Humanity

pairing: Touya Todoroki/Dabi x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: reverse comfort, implied unproteted sex but no smut, touya has feelings™, he's a little mean for a second but its resolved

notes: he just needs a hug okay?? I would coddle this man until the ends of days 🖤

“I fucking hate you,” Touya grinds our through his bared teeth.

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know the truth, handsome,” you reply easily.

He bristles at the word ‘handsome’. No one has ever called him that until you came along. Not since his mother spoke that word to him as a little boy and he still doesn’t understand why you use such a word to describe him.

“You love me, Touya. I know you don’t love yourself. You don’t even know the meaning of the word, but I could change that, if you’d let me,” you say more softly.

His shoulders sag at that. He lets down the tall, imposing walls that he’d spend so many years constructing for just a moment, but he props them right back up again.

“Fuck you,” he spits. “I don’t need this. You were an easy lay and that all.”

He turns on his heel, intending to leave your apartment, but it’s hard. Harder than he thought, especially when you’re baring your soul to him.

Why tonight? Of all nights, why now? He can’t take this.

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” you say as you slip out of bed, heading towards the bathroom to clean yourself of the evidence of what you both just did together. To rid the proof of his seed between your thighs.

“It’s the truth,” he insists as he makes for the bedroom door, but he finds it difficult to actually turn the handle.

He watches you slip into the bathroom, appalled when he discovers that he can’t seem to drag himself out and finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed instead.

You return a few moments later, not much surprised to find him still sitting there. He does crave the love that you have to offer him and he knows it deep down, as much as he loves to vehemently deny himself of that pleasure.

"You're still here," you point out, your voice soft, a gentle whisper carrying through the chill in the room.

"I can't fucking leave," he whispers and even in the dim light of your bedroom, only the midnight moon offering light to the space, you still spot the bead of crimson rolling over his cheeks as he keeps his gaze fixed on the floor.

He never lets you keep the lights on when you do what you do. He says he just prefers it that way, but you know it's because he's too embarassed to let you see him properly with all his scars and marred skin on full display, even though you've told him countless times that you still think he's beautiful that way.

"You don't have to," you insist gently as you pad closer to him, approaching him as one would a cornered animals, because that's what he is in this moment. "I'd rather you stay anyway, Touya."

"Stop calling me that," he hisses, his voice growing more quiet. "I never should've shared that name with you."

His name. The one he'd uttered to you after mere weeks of coming to meet you in your bedroom late at night, when the city was quiet, but his mind was busy, too full of the events of the day and the wight of his goals weighing on his crumbling shoulders. He hadn't regretted it then and if he's being honest with himself, he didn't now. Not really, anyway.

"You don't mean that," you whisper, taking a seat beside him to rest your hand on his knee.

It's the truth and you both know it. He looks down at your hand and it only makes it that much harder to reject you. Why can't he shake you? Why can't he walk away and stay away?

"I don't," he admits, clenching his teeth as he feels an unfamiliar pressure just beneath the seams of the staples lining his under eyes. "And I—," he cuts himself off.

He wants to insist that he hates it, but that isn't the truth either. He doesn't hate anything about you or this or the things that you make him feel, except the fact that he knows he's going to fuck it up. he knows it won't work. You will disappear like everything else he has ever actually wanted in life and he is powerless to stop it.

"You what, baby?" You ask as you work a hand into his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp beneath his mussed midnight tresses.

"I'm no good at this, doll," he says almost inaudibly, his tone laced with pain and tight as the scars beneath his eyes. "I've never done this, but I know that I can't. Not with you. Not to you."

They begin to leak, seeping crimson tears over his cheeks that threaten to snap your heart in two when you spot them.

"You can't know that if you've never tried, Touya," you insist gently as you rest your head on his shoulder. "And this doesn't have to be anything if you don't want it to be."

"But you want it to be," he points out, his arm slipping around you to hold you close to him as his hand glides up and down your arm. "I.. I do too, but I'm.."

"Afraid," you finish, tilting your head back to look up at him. "I am too. That's okay. It's scary and that's not a bad thing. It doesn't make you weak or inferior. It makes you human."

Human. Something he hasn't felt for a long time. That's what it is about you. You make him feel human. You make him feel iike someone worth loving, worthy of being able to try to love another.

"That's terrifying. I hate it," he says, staring blankly at the floor of your bedroom.

"Makes sense coming from someone who doesn't seem to fear anyone else. Wecome to your humanity," you say softly as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck.

You wrap both arms around him, holding him dearly as he does the same to you. He turns his head towards you, nuzzling against your scalp before he presses a kiss to it and closes his eyes.

"I think I do love you, doll."

The words are timid, but they're honest. The most honesty he's offered you or himself since you two had met, but they feel right. A small smile turns up the corners of your lips as you hold him a little tighter.

"I love you too, Touya."

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x you #touya x y/n

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thesherrinfordfacility · 9 months

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okay let's get them hard truths out in the open following episode 6, bearing in mind that i am in the UK and am therefore chronically sleep-deprived, and have watched the Feral Domestic™ maybe only like oh 7 times:

crowley is as much at fault as aziraphale. they are both as bad as each other. their own individual idiosyncrasies are literally the other's emotional downfall and if im honest im not entirely sure there's any way they can adequately move past it.

waxed on and on and on about it, but aziraphale's issue is not that he has any allegiance to heaven. he doesn't at all, and that is obvious in his initial reaction to the metatron, in that he essentially says that he knows his place and it is not Up Above. it is right there in the bookshop, and with crowley (even if he didn't consciously think it that explicitly at the time). he doesn't want any part of the heaven that it currently is, he has had enough and is tired of trying to be the angel that hides who he is and what he wants from his existence. that much is very much clear.

but the mantra throughout most of life is to be the change you want to see in the world. look at the major societal issues that are happening in the world today; people are rising up and fighting for what is right, and what they believe in, and wanting to make changes. now look at this opportunity that aziraphale has been given. regardless of the questionable motive of the metatron offering it to him; if you were in his position, could you say you'd find it easy to refuse that?

the issue here with aziraphale is that he (again, ill harp on about it until the cows come home) thinks that crowley - this demon that isn't a good demon because he is good and kind and gentle - would want to have his place in making that change happen; be by aziraphale's side whilst they create the world and heaven that is different from the largely shit one they've always known, hated, and feared. this is where the Pedestal comes in; like i said before, aziraphale has now been confronted with the fact that this demon, his best friend and love of his life, is acting in the way he's always acted but that aziraphale refuses to acknowledge... because to acknowledge crowley's shortcomings (which ill discuss in a sec) would be to question aziraphale's faith in him, and mean falling from the pedestal that has been aziraphale's status quo for the last few thousand years at minimum.

edit: this also needed adding because it touches on aziraphale's tendency to hold himself superior to crowley, which he also does in the Domestic scene.

crowley's issue is twofold. one, he cannot move on from the fall. second, that he is sometimes a manipulative and childish shit. the first is obvious, and his recent experiences with heaven have only compounded this (ie his conversation with gabriel/goob, where he lays into him about gabriel's part in the cruelty shown towards aziraphale to the point he almost makes goob kill/injure himself). crowley can also however be incredibly cruel borne out of his own pain. there were major hints in s2 that not only did crowley fall (no matter what the metatron says, im still not convinced he fell for only asking questions) but he fell from a great sodding height that in his mind should have made him untouchable. my thoughts on morality in heaven have already been discussed, but that must have had a huge impact on crowley; it is no wonder that it's a sore point and he feels bitter, resentful, and angry.

in the above context, id want nothing to do with heaven either. but crowley doesn't communicate and im guessing that his feelings about the fall are a No Go area in terms of what he's shared with aziraphale... so for crowley to assume that aziraphale turned down the metatron is grossly unfair - how was aziraphale necessarily meant to know how deep his trauma (if we're applying human mental health constructs) runs? he isn't to know that at all - so it does track that aziraphale would think that crowley would want to help him make a difference so they don't have to keep getting involved in the toxicity that is the heaven/hell politico-moral dichotomy.

what also upset me about the Domestic was the kiss. i loved it for what it was in isolation and it was a long time coming, and a huge movement in the dance they constantly have with each other, but it was in essence manipulative. i realise crowley was on his last emotional straw and yes, perhaps the love and devotion got too much for him to contain... but he literally just stood there and heard aziraphale tell him that he wanted crowley and he wanted them to be together. there were no qualms at all that aziraphale loves him as much as he loves aziraphale. so, what was the kiss meant to prove?

to my mind, it was manipulation; specific, a temptation. whilst very romantic and 'sweep him off his feet with the violins playing', it was also non-consensual and unwarranted on crowley's part - to the point of being derogatory and redundant (lets be clear: not a criticism on Neil for adding the kiss, im purely talking about crowley as a character and his Choices here). there was nothing to prove, nothing that that kiss could have possibly convinced aziraphale to do. so the only thing that leaves, imo, is that it was a temptation. crowley does not typically use temptation in this way, or at least that's the impression ive had throughout s1 and s2, so he chooses now is the time? to tempt aziraphale into staying with him? of course he does!

he's desperate, but also childish and immature and completely ignorant of what aziraphale is actually saying to him. aziraphale never denied him; aziraphale wanted him in this opportunity exactly by his side as he always has been. but that didn't fit with what crowley wanted, so he tried to make aziraphale bend to his will. aziraphale says the fatal words "i forgive you", but if he has (as i suspect he has) realised that crowley was trying to manipulate him... well, id probably say something as damning to crowley as 'i forgive you' too.

when aziraphale said 'nothing last forever', i realise crowley took that to mean him and the life that they built together, but it obviously wasn't that at all. aziraphale is saying that they have eternity ahead of them, that he wants to spend it with crowley, whatever has to end around them (ahem the world? apocalypse from s1, anyone?). aziraphale demonstrated consistently throughout s2 that he is trying to give crowley his own agency where heaven/hell are concerned (paraphrased but: "I want you to help me but if you don't want to, you are free to leave"). crowley however seemed that he was constantly one foot out the door in case things got Too Much (which, you know - valid) but aziraphale really did his best to make crowley not only not feel suffocated but also that crowley was wanted. and for anyone that is a tough balancing act.

the two of them have had 6000+ years of Not Really Communicating. this is the detritus that remains when they don't, and it was absolutely needed in this season. for them to break apart and break in and of themselves. s3 needs to be where they learn more about themselves than each other, and stop believing that the other is infallible, because such thinking - worship, blind faith - only ends badly.

#good omens #not the analysis this fandom wants #but the analysis that it needs #i will proof read this at some point so if shit doesnt read well or make sense just pretend that it does #aziraphale meta #s2 meta #feral domestic/final fifteen meta

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creedslove · 11 months

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DESERVE IT - PART SEVEN

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier got jealous of you and you boyfriend and that leads to an argument, but once he needs your help, you find yourself compelled to help him

Warnings: mentions of smut, angst, fluff and a lot of stuff, jealousy, argument, mentions of violence, blood, bruises, cheating (idk to me that's cheating, sorry not sorry Manu lmao)

A/N: alright, let me start by telling you all that I was planning this chapter to be like 2k long or so but instead I got so carried away with it as always because I don't know this Javi series makes me feel things and then I just write these things. A lot happens in this chapter and I know not everyone will be happy because some of you like my boyfriend DEA agent Javier Peña to suffer 😭 but i love the final result and I'll continue on the A/N under the chapter so there will be no spoilers here 😉

• PART ONE

• PART TWO

• PART THREE

• PART FOUR

• PART FIVE

• PART SIX

5.7k words

this chapter was made with all my love™ enjoy 💕

You woke up in a great mood the next morning. You were naked in bed and you felt the slightest hint of desire in your lower belly as you felt the presence behind your stir.

You giggled happily and sank your face into the pillow, thinking of last night and the flashes you had of his hands on your body, his lips, his mouth, everything… and the way the same lips trailed kisses down your neck.

"Mm Javi" you whimpered and bit your lips.

"What did you say?" Manu's voice snapped you out of your drunk feeling of sleep and post orgasm and you widen your eyes open. You closed your eyes again "shit" you mouthed and slowly turned to him, giving him a wide smile as if nothing happened

"I said good morning baby" you told your boyfriend and blushed softly, hoping he would buy it, after all you had whispered in a low voice, besides, who assure you you had actually said Javier's name? Maybe you were still sleeping after all. However, as much as you would love to trick yourself and pretend nothing happened so you wouldn't feel guilty, you had to face the truth. You literally fantasized about Javier Peña while having sex with your boyfriend. Not only that, you only came because you kept picturing Javier making you cum and wet his bedsheets with your squirt while Manu tried his best, because you were sure that your boyfriend wouldn't be able to make you do that, not even if he spent the whole day overstimulating you. Javi on the other hand, would be able to make you pour like a fountain in a blink of an eye.

Manu tried his best and you appreciated that… but then, that was his best? Which meant sex with him wouldn't be anything better than what you experienced? You guessed the expression you were looking for was just that. It felt so basic, so bland, and you felt so guilty about summing your relationship up to only that.

You finally had met a nice guy, someone who treated you well and you could feel safe with, so maybe complaining about sex was something shallow? But on the other hand, sex was very important for a relationship, so it was a big deal.

Manu grumbled and nodded "morning princesa, I'll make us breakfast" he kissed your shoulder and got up.

You frowned.

Princesa, he had called you princesa. It sounded so weird, usually Javier was the one who called you that and you loved it, but another man using the same word caused you a weird feeling.

You tried ignoring your own thoughts and went to shower, you wanted to get rid of the sweat, the sticky feeling on your skin and get ready for your day. You still needed to work on your potato salad and a batch of brownies for dessert, just like you'd promised Connie. You would meet up in a few hours for the barbecue, it would be in the patio of your apartment building and Steve was probably already setting up the grill outside, maybe Javier was helping him.

Javier.

He was back in your mind and you didn't seem to catch a break, you hadn't been that hooked on him since you realized you'd fallen in love with that son of a bitch nearly a year ago, and now, even if you had a boyfriend, you were going through a better phase in your job, he was still there, haunting you.

You rinsed your hair and grabbed the soap, washing down your body when you got distracted again.

Your mind went back to the night you found out about his involvement with Los Pepes, how desperate he got, the way he pressed himself against you and began kissing your skin. How got so close to your breasts and you once again let your mind wander and allowed yourself to imagine what would've happened if he pulled your bra a little further, if he'd seen your nipples hardening in front of him. He would massage your tits, you were sure of it, he would squeeze them, pinch your nipples before kissing each of them and lick them.

But he wouldn't be satisfied with it yet, you were sure of it. You just knew he would suckle on your nipples and make you whimper louder than one of his prostitutes.

An obscene thought occurred to you as you pictured Javi licking your tits: had he ever been with a pregnant woman? If so, had he ever tried her breast milk?

You didn't know where that came from and it got you even more weirded out to picture yourself, pregnant with his baby letting him try the warm droplets that dripped down your breasts.

You scoffed at yourself, Javier wasn't trust worthy to be fuck buddies, let alone the father of your child, and yet, the scenario made your clit throb.

And before you could stop yourself, you had your fingers inside of your slippery pussy, pretending they were his fingers instead.

Coming back to the other night, you enjoyed picturing that if you hadn't pushed him away and locked yourself in your apartment, you would probably get down on your knees and blow his cock.

You hadn't seen Javier naked, but you felt his cock a couple of times when he hugged you and accidentally let your body too close to his waist. His pants were tight and he was big, and you were suspicious you occasionally gave him a boner or two by accident. So you felt he was big, it seemed that way.

So you pictured yourself freeing his cock, watching his tip glistening with pre cum and taking it to your mouth, sucking his dick while he would grip your hair and you would stroke his base.

Then you just knew you would massage his balls and lick them too, his balls would be so heavy carrying all the thick load he would empty on your pretty face.

And with that dirty, obscene fantasy, you managed to cum, biting your lips so you wouldn't make a lot of noise. And without even knowing, Javier had sent you to a delicious orgasm for the second time in less than 24 hours.

When you came down to your senses, you sighed disappointed in yourself, feeling another wave of guilt. As if it wasn't bad enough you'd fantasized about the guy while your boyfriend was on top of you, now you were finger fucking yourself thinking of him, your boyfriend just a few meters away from you in the kitchen making you waffles for breakfast and you rubbing one off for the guy next door.

You stared at your own reflection in the mirror as you brushed your teeth.

Just as guilt came, it quickly faded. You didn't know exactly what had changed in this whole Javier-Y/N mess you'd been living, but after the Los Pepes night - you decided to call it that way - it was like you were letting your guard down around Javier, and in the worst way: sexually.

You felt so tired of behaving like a nice woman, like a decent person and there was a side of you that just wished you could drop everything you had in life and surrender to Javier. You literally felt like whoring around and of course, you'd learned from the best.

So what was really stopping you from knocking on his door and letting him fuck you?

Your boyfriend for instance, you reminded yourself. Manu was such a nice person, you liked him, but you didn't desire him.

And the way Javier looked at you and asked you if you were gonna care if he got killed made you want to slap him in the face. How dare he think otherwise? How dare he think you wouldn't be utterly broken? Yes, he was an asshole, but he was your asshole and you hated to even think of that possibility.

When Manu knocked on the door you finally went back to your senses. What the fuck was all that that crossed your mind? It was like you were put under a spell while in the shower.

How could you even consider going after Javier after everything? Or when you had a nice relationship right there?

You decided to lie to yourself some more, at least it was a safe space for now.

•••

Javier groaned as he stepped outside and immediately put on his sunglasses. The warm weather and the sun bothered him deeply, especially at the little sleep he got the night before.

Well, not exactly the night before, because he'd spent the whole night drinking his anger and jealousy away. After what he heard coming from your apartment, coming from your mouth, he couldn't bear being in the same place as you, and especially not being in the same place as your stupid boyfriend.

Javier wanted to kick that door open, get him away from you, but he couldn't do it. It wasn't his place to do it anymore, you'd made your choice and unfortunately he wasn't part of it. So he decided to go out and drink. Of course he could go to a brothel, find himself some company, but he couldn't even trust his own self with that, he'd been so disturbed by everything that went on that the last couple of times he tried doing it he just couldn't get hard. It felt like you were haunting him, your image always lingered around and he couldn't break free from your spell, your presence, your love…

But nothing really mattered anymore, you were with someone else, and judging by the noises you were making you were enjoying every second of it. It pained him, but at the same time he knew it was what you deserved it: someone to love you and make you happy.

Even if it was the right thing, it still hurt him pretty bad. It twisted his guts, left a lump in his throat and the rush of adrenaline turned into a blinding rage he could kill your boyfriend with just a few punches.

So Javier sat down at a dirty table in some sketchy bar and drank one shot after the other.

He managed to get home in the morning, god knows how, and blacked out on his couch.

He didn't sleep nor rested, he literally passed out. However, a shower and a cigarette later, he was ready for Murphy's barbecue. He'd rather skip it and avoid facing you and Manu, but if he did it so, he would have to explain to Steve why he wasn't there, or worse, Steve could just knock on his door and make things more embarrassing for him. So he sucked it up and went to help his friend with the grill and the burgers, greeting Connie on his way and complimented her looks, being just the tiniest bit of flirt, as usual of Javier Peña, just a respectful way to remind women how pretty they were.

You, on the other hand, managed to avoid Manu's kisses during breakfast and after putting the brownies in the oven, you got to the egg salad. He was all the time hovering around you, certainly wanting to repeat last night's activities but you weren't in the mood.

Correction: you weren't in the mood with him, but you couldn't simply fantasize about Javier to get started so your boyfriend could have a quickie when you were just a couple of hours away from seeing him. How could you even look Javier in the eye after all the dirty thoughts you had of him? How could you act normal knowing the only reason why you had two mind blowing orgasms was thinking of him touching you, making you his and treating you like a slut?

You sighed as you finished peeling the potatoes and felt relieved to see Manu had given up trying to make up with you and went to get changed.

As you got yourself into nicer clothes, you knew it was time to go and just hoped everything would be alright.

Manu helped you carry the dishes as you went to the patio and found Steve, Connie and Javi.

Olivia was playing with a doll and as soon as she spotted you, she smiled big, extending her little arms to you and wanting you to pick her up.

You placed the bowl with your potato salad down and went to pick up the little girl. You lifted her up and twirled around holding her making her giggle "hi princess!!! I missed you!" You said excitedly and tickled her small tummy, earning some other adorable giggles from her.

Javier watched you from afar. His gaze wouldn't leave you for a single moment, hidden under his sunglasses, he took in all of you, of your body, of your clothes and how carefree and happy you were around Olivia. The way you smiled and played with her, as you thought no one was watching you was making it very difficult for him to hate you. He scoffed at himself, he could never bring himself to hate you, but he was trying to keep himself angry, because that was the only way he could be away and not screw things up between you and your boyfriend again.

But you always made his life so damn hard, especially when you were all gorgeous in your summer dress holding a giggly little princess in your arms.

Javier suddenly was taken back to the green fields of his dad's ranch in Laredo.

He could easily see you there, playing with a couple of toddlers - a boy and a girl - as the three of you would feed and pet the horses.

Then, when the sun was setting, the kids would all run to him calling him daddy and fighting each other to be the first one to hug him.

And then you would walk to him, all sun kissed, smelling like jasmine and coconut and would wrap your arms around his neck, welcoming your husband after a long day of hard work. A golden ring around your finger would be more than enough to show the whole town you were Mrs.Peña.

Where the fuck was that coming from?

Javier nearly dropped his can of beer when he realized where his mind wandered, he couldn't believe his brain betrayed him like that.

Since when was he the kind of man who would envision himself as a good husband and decent father of two? That was bonkers, he never wanted to be tied down, let alone be a father.

You were standing a few meters away from him with your boyfriend, the kind of guy who would probably give you that lifestyle because Manu was that kind of guy. Javier wasn't.

"Y/N… can you help me bring some plates?" Connie asked you sweetly and you nodded, putting Olivia down and promising you'd be there soon to play with her.

You followed Connie upstairs and walked into her apartment, it was everything very organized and cleaned. You couldn't help but smile at the pictures on the wall of herself and Steve, on their wedding day, their honeymoon and also pictures with Olivia.

Connie separated the plates she wanted to take downstairs "so… new boyfriend?" She raised her eyebrow and saw you blushing softly.

"Yeah… it's very recent"

"Well, he is very handsome… not Javier handsome, but still…" Connie chuckled at how shocked and surprised you got.

"What do you mean, Connie?" You asked clearing your throat, trying to show your nervousness

"Well, it was pretty obvious to all of us you liked Javi… more than friends, and Javi likes you too, Steve told me so… I mean, Javier hasn't said anything but Steve sees a lot more than it seems and he is positive Javier has romantic feelings for you. Judging by the way he was staring at you earlier, I am sure he does too" Connie gave you a sweet smile "and I think you still like him… listen, Steve told me everything that happened and honestly I think you were very right to completely ignore him at first, but he also told me about Carlos and how Javier protected you" Connie grabbed herself a glass of water and downed in one sip, she was sweaty and you could tell she suffered a lot with the weather in Colombia.

"What I'm trying to say is that if you two like each other then sometimes it is alright to give in and forgive. Look at me and Steve, I thought I was doing what was best for myself and our daughter but it turns out all I did was waste precious time away from my husband. Sometimes we're too proud and we miss out on people we love, so maybe you should talk to Javier, see what really goes on between the two of you" she placed her hand on your shoulder and smiled.

You carried the plates silently as her words wouldn't leave you alone. She did have a point, maybe you needed to talk to Javier, the tension, the unspoken feelings, the fact that sometimes it was so obvious you had feelings for each other and sometimes you couldn't read him even if your life depended on it, was making you stressed out.

"I'm sorry honey, can you go grab some other silverware? I forgot to bring them downstairs" Connie pouted and asked you very nicely, you nodded and quickly made your way upstairs, you were lost in your thoughts and didn't really pay attention where you were going, so you only realized you were standing right in front of Javier was when he stopped literally inches before bumping into you.

You noticed how he towered you, he was strong and a bit intimidating even, being so close to him and smelling his cologne got you thinking maybe Connie wasn't so wrong and maybe you should talk to him. You realized you'd let your walls down a while back and you could no longer act tough and unbothered by him, instead, each time you two saw each other you couldn't help but smile brightly again.

"Hey Javi… you okay?" You frowned softly as you saw he was kind of pale and had dark bags under his eyes, maybe he was coming down with something?

He frowned and shot daggers at you, he'd removed his sunglasses inside.

"Sure, just couldn't get to sleep at night with the neighbor across the hall moaning louder than a pornstar" he spat and gritted his teeth.

You were mortified. You had absolutely no idea he could hear you from his apartment, you didn't know you'd been that loud, no wonder Manu wanted a second round in the morning, he thought all that was for him. If only he knew…

And Javier was pissed off too, that was unexpected.

"Oh god, that's embarrassing, I'm sorry…"

"You're right, Y/N, it's fucking embarrassing" he replied in a rude way which began bothering you, who was he to talk about that? He was the guy who used to have girls over nearly every week, it didn't matter if they were paid or not, but very often you heard noises coming from his apartment, so he had no right to complain about that. "You and that dick shouldn't be making that much noise, it bothers people. It's rude, it's not what decent women do"

You stiffened and returned him the same cold gaze, Javier Peña had such nerve it made you want to stab him sometimes.

"You're right, decent women don't do that, that's why this kind of noises always came from your apartment Javier and all the women you picked up, because you simply can't get in a relationship with someone slightly decent, your partners reflect your personality!" You took a deep breath "it hurts, doesn't it? It hurts to hear someone we like, someone we care about with another person. Thinking that you could be there with them, but knowing you are simply not good enough or not the best option" you said "I hope you heard me through the whole thing, I hope you heard me cumming for my boyfriend…" Well, that was a lie, but Javier didn't have to know about it. "... I hope it has hurt you, because that's exactly how I felt every time I saw women come and go into your apartment when you knew damn well I was in love with you!"

Javi didn't expect you to be so blunt about it, he thought you wouldn't admit it and you were right, it did hurt, it felt horrible, he didn't want to ever feel like that again, and now he was even more sure of the asshole he was to you this whole time.

"What's so special about him, after all? What makes you like him to the point of acting like a wh-"

He stopped himself right there before he could screw things up more than he already had.

"Like what, Javi? Like a whore?" You asked with hurt in your voice "I am not a whore, and you know that. It's not my fault if you're jealous because you lost me… why do you do this? Why do you try to push me away whenever things are improving between us?" You stared at him "you wanna know why I like Manu? Take a good look at him, he's the whole package. He's handsome, younger, stronger, taller, he's not a fucking dirty cop. I think the real question here would be asking yourself why did I ever like you, Javier!" You spat back at him, not having any of his shit.

You thought he would backfire at you, but instead, Javier looked down and nodded, putting his sunglasses on one more time.

"You're right, cariño" he said in defeat "you shouldn't like me, I'm no good" surprising you, he cupped your cheek with his big hand, stroking it gently, and against all odds you leaned into it. "I tried pushing you away because it hurts less when you're not around, I lost you Y/N and there's nothing I can do about it"

Javi turned around and grabbed his coat before exiting the building.

•••

The barbecue didn't go much further after Javier left. You guys sat down, ate and you helped Connie with the dishes, Manu and Steve chatted about business as Olivia played nearby. It could've been a real nice time among friends if you hadn't argued with Javier. But it puzzled you, it wasn't a normal argument, it was something else, it felt almost as an apology, or as a goodbye.

You shook that thought off immediately, a shiver ran down your spine as you couldn't even bear the possibility of that happening. Still, ever since he left, you had an urge to see Javier again. You wanted to check on him, make sure he was alright. You didn't know if it was a gut feeling, your sixth sense or just good old anxiety keeping you company, but you didn't like the way his eyes looked empty when he left, you would only calm down when you saw him again. You knew he was probably buried deep inside some Colombian prostitute, probably making her scream his name but you didn't care, you didn't feel angry after your argument, you felt just sad.

It didn't feel right to rub Manu on his face, especially because you didn't even like Manu that much, you just wanted to hurt Javier for being a cocky motherfucker and you felt really guilty about it. You didn't know if it made sense you felt guilty about it, but you knew you were past that point. You were caught in your own trap and at the same time you wanted to kill Javi, he was the only one you craved.

So after Connie's dishes were perfectly done, you half lied to Manu saying you'd need some time alone because you had a headache. You just occasionally didn't mention your headache went by the name of Javier Peña.

And Manu, being the sweetest and most comprehensive boyfriend on earth, gladly accepted your excuse and went home. He was such a great boyfriend it was starting to become annoying. Or you were starting to come up with reasons to break up with him, after all, you had a good deal with him and you had a bad deal with Javi and of course you were leaning towards the bad one.

So you spent the rest of your day by your door, you were completely silent, no TV, no music just you and a book you were too distracted and anxious to concentrate and actually read it, you just paid attention to every single noise coming from the hallway in hopes it would be Javier arriving home. You thought of using the spare key you had - and you still hadn't returned him - to wait for him in his apartment, but you stopped yourself at the fear of witnessing him arriving with another woman. That would break your heart again, not to mention it would be awkward to everyone as hell.

So you waited, and waited, and waited until you decided it was time to give up and go to bed, it would be another night of the countless you'd spent before hoping Javier would be in the comfort and safety of his home when in reality he was out whoring around.

You had changed into your nightgown and was ready to get under your blankets when you heard mumbling and stumbling coming from outside. Your heart raced and you could tell it was Javier's voice. He was cursing in Spanish and struggling to unlock his door and your heart clenched at the thought of him making out with a woman outside. For a moment you thought of not opening your door, but you realized you could hear only Javier and no one else.

Curiosity took the best of you and you stepped outside your apartment, freezing at what you saw.

"Javi!!!" You whined at the image of him covered in blood, bruised and beaten up.

You immediately teared up at the state he was in, he'd probably been punched a considerable amount of times, a cut right above his left eye was responsible for the amount of blood that stained his face and dripped down his neck and got to his cut.

You hated to see him like that, suddenly that horrible feeling that haunted you earlier made all sense and you ran to him. You'd much rather see Javier arriving home with a woman than all bruised and broken like that, at least he wouldn't be suffering.

You unlocked the door for him and helped him sit down on the couch, which he did with a groan of pain.

He looked at you in silence but smiled softly seeing your presence there, no matter if his whole body hurt, if he had been beaten up by one of the Los Pepes sicario, seeing you there made him better.

You didn't ask him any questions, you would have time for that later, instead you rushed to his kitchen, getting a bowl and filling up with water and ice. You had no idea if that worked for real, but you'd seen several times in movies and TV how someone would sink their face into water to prevent it from swelling.

You also grabbed some cloth and whatever you thought that could be helpful and sat next to him.

"It's okay Javi, I'm here don't worry okay? You're not alone" you reminded him and patiently instructed on what to do.

You didn't know how long you spent wiping all the blood off his face, but you were both relieved to see he hadn't broken any teeth nor his nose. Javi unbuttoned his shirt and removed it with your help, making visible a darkening bruise on his ribs.

You touched it as softly as you could but he winced in pain

"Sorry honey" you said sadly and grabbed the ice pad, letting him place it over so you wouldn't hurt him even more. You hope they hadn't broken any of his ribs.

"It's alright princesa, you're the best nurse in the world" he smiled sadly "you should go home now, I can handle from here, your boyfriend must be waiting, you're all dolled up for bed" he said finally acknowledging your nightgown. Even if he had just been beaten up, he still smirked at your choice of clothing. Manu was a lucky son of a bitch, he thought to himself.

You shook your head "no fucking way I'm leaving you like that Javier. He's not here, and even if he were, I wouldn't leave you" you assured him and saw how he opened his mouth then closed again.

He licked his lips and stared into your eyes.

"Sit on my lap" he asked in a low voice which made you frown in confusion

"What?"

"J-just sit on my lap, I wanna feel you close, cariño, please"

And there they were: his puppy eyes again. How could you say no to broken, beaten, bruised Javier Peña looking every bit vulnerable in front of you?

You didn't think twice before switching to his lap, sitting on top of him comfortably and feeling one of his arms snake around your waist, holding you in place at the same time he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Javi didn't say anything, he just inhaled your scent quietly, feeling in peace and at home. His body didn't hurt as much now, his heart wasn't aching at that moment. You were pressed against him willingly, not because he grabbed you, but because you wanted to be there.

You took his big hand into yours seeing the dry blood on his knuckles and very softly you began wiping it.

"Looks like you threw a few punches too," you said with a small smile and felt him place his head on your chest. He was so close to your breasts, but he didn't make any attempt to touch you inappropriately, he just rested his tired head against your soft skin and watched as you devotedly wiped someone else's blood from his knuckles.

"I left earlier looking for trouble and found trouble with one of the sicarios from Los Pepes" he explained briefly "he got worse than me, I promise" he thought it was best not to mention the other sicarios shot him in the head right there, in front of him, because they had explicit orders not to hurt the DEA agent who was collaborating with them, so he only chuckled but earned a dirty look from you. He knew you were going to say 'I told you so' and probably lecture you again on how stupid working with these people were, but instead, your eyes softened up and he could only see compassion, affection and maybe, just maybe some love in them.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing Javier against your body tight, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment.

You'd never been that close to him, it felt so intimate but it was good.

"You know, the guy who left you at the altar is a stupid dick" he suddenly let out, earning a scoff from you

"Your ex's fiancee's current boyfriend probably says the same about you, Javi"

"It's her husband, and he is completely right. I was a dumb dick and what I did was terrible, I didn't want to get married and instead of straight up telling her, I chose the cowardly path. But I apologized to her and she forgave me, because she said if it weren't for me, she wouldn't have met the love of her life and built her family" he smiled "maybe the same can happen for you" his hand stroked your side, as he still held you tight against him.

You couldn't help but laugh softly.

"Who knows, right? Maybe someday I will have a nice husband and a baby of my own"

"I just know I wouldn't make the same mistake twice, Y/N, if you walked down the aisle for me, I'd be happily waiting for you to be my wife"

Javier only realized what he'd said after the words were out in the open. He shouldn't have said that, just a few hours ago he was trying to push you away and now he was low-key proposing to you? Fuck him, he was stupid.

You giggled and stroked his hair

"Aren't you adorable when you aren't a dick?" You tilted your head and pecked his forehead, seeing how hot his skin was "shit, Javi. You're burning up with fever… let me find you some medicine" you tried getting up but he held you tight in place, which caused your hips to move against his rough jeans and you let out a soft whimper.

Javi frowned at first but immediately smirked, his hand cupping your cheek again as the other one rested on your neck, massaging and stroking your skin.

"Need a relief, mi amor? Go ahead, rub yourself against me, I'll be glad to help you… you took care of me and I take care of you" he sweet talked you, his voice was a low rumbling purr and it took you a lot of willpower not to accept his offer. But you shook your head

"I can't Javi, I'm not gonna hump you while you keep burning up" you replied with the same sweetness he addressed you.

Eventually, you convinced him to take a shower and in the meantime you had to rush back to your place to get a tylenol because of course his medicine cabinet was empty.

When he got fresh out of the shower, you gave him two pills and walked him to his bed. Of course Javier wouldn't bother putting on clothes so he just got the towel out of his waist and got under the blankets, giving you only seconds to turn around not to look at his naked body.

He chuckled at your reaction and raised his eyebrow

"What querida? Do I look like the kind of fucker who goes to bed in pajamas? I ain't no Steve" you both laughed together and he took your hand in his, he caressed your knuckles with his thumb

"Stay. Spend the night with me, just to sleep and nothing more, I need you here, mi amor"

_____

A/N: So let me just continue by saying that I had a major headache when I was writing it earlier today and then suddenly it went away because that's the power Javi holds against me. Now, this scene where he asks her to sit on his lap and they have this moment, it felt so intimate and erotic to me, I loved writing it and I hope you guys all enjoyed it as well, because it is probably my favorite scene so far.

I know some of you really love angst and want Javier to suffer but I am aching for a happy ending though I still have no idea what will happen in the next chapters or how many chapters there will be.

And also, please let me hear your feedback!!!!! Let me hear what you think of this chapter let me know if you have a favorite part, you can comment or send me an ask whatever i need to talk about javier 🤌🤌🤌

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highwayorgantrade · 2 years

Text

Art History

Pairing: (cis)fem!reader x Carlisle Cullen

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing, the most mild nsfw (basically intense kissing and references to sex), minor choking, general tomfoolery.

Summary: A certain doctor helps you find resources for your college art history class.

Spotify Playlist: Art History

A/N: Aaah okay my first fic on this blog!! I'm so excited to get back into writing, especially with my favorite characters and people. Also, I'm sorry, I love Esmé as much as everyone else does, she does not exist here and Carlisle is the Ultimate Single Father™. And God, I did not expect it to be this long!!

The way that you met the Cullens was, at best, not ideal. A broken down car here, the offer of a ride there. It wasn't a bad thing - the friendship you had with the family had lasted all through high school up to a local community college.

When they told you the truth about who they were, what they were, you thought it was a joke.

"Yeah, very funny. Halloween isn't for another two months, and you can't all go as vampires, that would be so stupid." You snorted, returning to the homework that was scattered on the dining room table.

"(Y/N)... Think about it." Alice placed her hand on your shoulder, forcing you to listen.How are you just now noticing her hands are so cold? "Have you ever seen any of us eat? Go into the sun?"

You didn't want to think about it, you knew they would never lie to you like this. It's too insane to be a lie. But didn't they lie and pretend like they were human? It was just all too confusing, so naturally, it took you a few days before you starting going around their house again. They answered all your questions, even when you decided to punish them all a bit for not telling you sooner.

"So, have you ever thought about the ecological damage you might be doing with all the hunting?" You had been interrogating them for hours, but honestly? They were grateful. Grateful that you didn't run off and tell the entire town, or worse, flee from Forks and lose you forever.

"Honestly, we all have different preferences." Emmett replied cooly, as if you were chatting about movies. "I prefer some of the bigger stuff: Bears, wildcats. It's mostly deer, though."

"Never people." Carlisle confirms with a smile, and you almost immediately regret giving him a chance to speak. Before their confession, the pounding of your heart was a fun secret, a dream you knew would never come true. The scenarios have run through your head all the time, anytime you looked at him. And those rare moments where you felt brave enough to make eye contact? But now, you knew that it was basically a public confession. You never talked about it. The Cullens never did, either.

"I know one of you has to know something about the Reliquary of Sainte Foy." You sighed, dropping your bag at your feet.

"Please, (y/n), come in." Edward quipped from the living room.

"I mean, this whole thing makes no sense!" You continued, thinking back to every single time you've used Edward to complain. "First, she starts off the semester with the Renaissance, then goes to modern minimalism, then back to freakin' Jesus times?"

"You know," Alice strode in, reading over the same paper, "When I have questions about art history, I usually ask Carlisle." She leaned against the counter. "He's the oldest of us." The look her and Edward shared were lost to you, as you already began to think of excuses as to why you shouldn't be alone in a room with him. The fear of looking and sounding stupid overcame the desire to just do anything with him. The desire to mess up that stupidly perfect hair of his, or his cold hands roughly wrapping around your-.

No. Absolutely not.

"Ah, no! I wouldn't want to bother him. He's probably super busy, with all of his... doctoring stuff-"

"Nonsense." Edward smiled. "He would be overjoyed to help."

"Edward, seriously, don't-" You pleaded, but it was too late. Carlisle's name echoed throughout the house, but it felt like a death bell.

"I hope you find your answers!" Alice quickly took her exit out the front door, with Edward following right behind her, with a polite "Excuse me."

"(Y/N)!" He greeted you fondly, noticing Edward and Alice's backs as they walked deeper into the forest that surrounded the house. "Didn't Edward call for me?" He was watching them, but you were watching how he saw you and immediately smiled, and the way his arms flexed on the table.

Stop.

"Yeah, he did. They insisted that you could help me with art history, but this is old, old crap, and like, yeah, you're old, but you're not that old, so it's not really..." He began to smile again. "Super important." You finished, suddenly very aware of how you were standing. And how your hand rested so close to his. And how hot your face suddenly got.

"Well, what is it you need my help with?" He took your assignment paper. "The Reliquary of Sainte Foy. Around what time was that?" He looked back at you.

"Uh, the- Jesus times. Like upper double digits for the year. Which, I mean, I don't know when you were born, but I don't think you're that old, I mean you're still fun and pretty cool." God, why couldn't you just stop talking!

"Come on." He turned his back, taking your picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I think I have something in my office."

His office? He's taking you to his office? You've been inside of it before, but it wasn't just him and you, it was him and his kids. Just keep reminding yourself: You are his children's friend. You're friends with every single one of this man's children. You're probably not even on his radar! A (publicly) mid-30 year old local surgeon, and men that looked like him in this part of Washington was rare. And to be going after a college student? Pull it together.

The steely resolve quickly crumbled as he held the door open for you to walk past him, and if you had any doubts he could hear your heart before, they were absolutely gone. You could hear your pounding heart in your head. The office was gorgeous, a few lamps and some candles gave the dark office a warm glow, and you could see he had been actively working on... something?

"I'm so sorry, did I interrupt something?" You glanced at the papers on his desk.

"Oh, no, I was just going over some old files. You could never interrupt me."

Oh.

"Now." He began scanning a section of his large bookshelves. "I unfortunately was not born in 'Jesus times,' but I was born in 1640, and my father was an Anglican priest, so I might have something about early Christian relics." He finally pulled a large dark blue book from the shelf and handed it to you. "What about The Book of Sainte Foy? Written in 1010 A.D. and translated in 1995."

"Yes, please, that would be amazing." You replied quickly, eager to spend as little time in this room as possible.

"(Y/N), you seem stressed. If college is getting to be too much, you could always take a break." His eyebrows knit together and set the book on his desk. Your eyes followed his hand and you swallowed. This cannot be happening.

"Uh, no, it's not college! College is fine. It's just... other stuff." Your hands clasped together to try and ease some of your nerves.

"Well, (Y/N), if it's something more personal, you know you can always talk to me. I've enjoyed having you around and I hate to see you upset." You knew he was trying to ease information out of you, but his words just made it harder.

"Carlisle, I-" Oh god. No. Stop talking. His hand came to rest on your upper arm, his icy hand almost burning your hot skin. You've imagined this so many times "It's you!"

Wait. No! Keep talking! The look of slight shock and confusion on his face combined with the gentle grip he had on your arm had wiped your brain of whatever you were going to say. His hand relaxed and fell back to his side.

"Me? (Y/N), did I make you uncomfortable?" His voice was soft, but serious. Fix this, now!

"No! Well, sort of. But no! Just... listen." You rubbed the back of your neck, shifting your weight between your legs. He leaned back against his desk and looked at you.

This was going to be hard.

"It's just... You make me nervous because you know, you're like a genetically modified beauty of a human being. I mean, have you seen yourself? Actually seen yourself?"

Carlisle opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't get the words out before you continued.

"You are... gorgeous. And I know, Edward's complained to me about that whole 'Oh, our beauty just lures in innocent prey so we can destroy them,' thing, but you're just a... a genuinely beautiful person. You help people in need, you go to some extreme lengths to help people because why? Because you're a doctor and it's what you do, damn it! It's amazing. You're amazing." You took a breath, filling your lungs with all the words you've kept to yourself. "And I like your hands."

And you like his hands? That's what your confession is ending on? Okay, own it.

"You like my hands?" He questioned, biting back a smile. Of course that's what he focused on. "Tell me about my hands." He stood up off his desk and moved closer to you. You felt like the breath was being sucked out of your lungs as you tried to organize your thoughts.

"Well, they're..." His hand came up to your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

"Go on."

"I like the way they're..." In an effort to look anywhere else but his eyes, you glanced down to his chest. His face seemed to inch closer to yours as you searched for words you knew you wouldn't find. The hand on your face traveled to the back of your neck, and his other hand found the small of your back. Your hands rested on his biceps, your last attempt to try to cover up your attraction towards him.

"Tell me you want this." Carlisle whispered, pressing you closer to him, encouraged by your racing heart.

"I want this so bad." You admitted, and those were the words that broke the both of you. He pressed you against a bookshelf as his lips met yours, and the amount of passion coming from Carlisle was shocking. His thumb came around your neck to wrap around the front, and the simple weight of his hand caused you to moan in his mouth. He smiled into the kiss and your hands went to his hair, tugging as gently as you could.

"Jump." He whispered in between kisses. The faint taste of spearmint lingered, and you whined at the loss.

"What?" You pulled back and stared at him.

"Jump."

God, please let his vampire strength come in clutch. You wrapped your legs around his waist and his hands found the bottom of your thighs. He placed you on top of his desk, careful as to not disturb any documents or books, and pulled you in again. this time, there was something different. The kiss was more insistent, more demanding.

"More." He groaned, and slotted his head into the curve of your neck, biting gently, and kissing the same spots.

You had never seen Carlisle like this, never this... out of control.

"So, when is this paper due?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He walked back to the door of his office, laying his hand on the doorknob. You simply stared at him, still catching your breath. Did he seriously just ask that? Now? "Is it tonight?"

"No?"

"Good." He grinned at you, and turned the lock. "Because it's not getting done."

#twilight x reader #twilight imagine #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen imagine

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artist-issues · 2 months

Note

so here's something I'm curious about: God's Not Dead. The films, not the statement itself.

I first saw the first film when I was younger and I hadn't yet embarked on my journey on examining just what i was taught and what I truly believed, but I remember finding the film a little uncomfortable.

I saw the second film and Ive never watched the third, and I think what I really don't like the first film is how it bashes other people's walks of life (Muslim father, three brands of athiests, and how it continues the myth that Christians in The United States are being Persecuted for their Faith Right Now.

Oh yeah and how the plots are really really dumb too, since the first film centers around a philosophy class with a professor that is skipping a very important part of most College degrees and the second takes place in a Bible Belt State with a high school teacher answering a students question comparing Marting Luther King Jr to Jesus's Sermon on the Mount and being taken to court over it.

I was twelve or so when I saw that movie and I honestly was not convinced by the film That God's Not Dead (in terms of the actual arguments in the class scenes.

The specific Denomination that I grew up with (Adventist) focuses a LOT™ on the end times so I do know about the future persecution thing well but like, I don't think we're there yet.

Anyway if you don't know those movies, feel free to ignore this ask but I'm genuinely curious about your thoughts on them, wether positive or negative or neutral

Hi! I saw the first God’s Not Dead in theaters. Never re-watched it. Did not see the sequels.

The good thing about God’s Not Dead is that people worked hard to make something that might shine a counter-cultural light on the truth that the God of the Bible exists. Stories that try to point to truth are on the right track, baseline.

The bad thing about God’s Not Dead is that it took things that are real, and genuine, and true…and it made them feel fake. By telling the story with strange conclusions and weird-triumph moments.

The thesis of the movie, that God is not dead, is something that only non-Christians would need to be convinced of. But the movie is clearly made for Christians. So. Yeah, it’s uncomfortable.

But you shouldn’t find every experience that the movie tries to portray uncomfortable because they don’t happen. You should find it uncomfortable because they don’t happen in that cheesy, Hallmark-grade way.

When a student stands up to their professor and says, “no, I’m not going to go along with this, and this is super weird that you’re trying to draw this line about the specific Christian God,” guess what? The whole classroom doesn’t usually get up and agree with you. They normally barely react. So even though some professors do put their foot down and try to mock or “kill” God in the classroom, and some students do push back, no. It doesn’t normally happen in that victorious way.

Just like how some young Muslim converts to Christianity genuinely are treated poorly by their families, or their community, not just in America, but absolutely, certainly around the world. Absolutely, certainly. I literally can think of not one, but two examples I’ve recently heard of, directly, from people I know.

Like I said, the events and life-experiences that the first God’s Not Dead movie are based on do technically happen all the time in America, and the West, and the world in general. They just don’t normally come with crowd-agreement, impactful music, wise one-liners, and celebrity appearances. The worst thing that the God’s Not Dead movie does is show you hints of things that are real, and really happen in real life, but cheeseball way it shows you those things, and the caricatures it turns people into, makes the real thing look fake.

As far as “the myth that Christians are Persecuted Right Now in America” goes…you just have to decide what you mean by “persecuted.”

If you mean, are we getting our heads run over by cement mixers, or dragged out of our homes and imprisoned for studying or even owning a Bible, or kidnapped by hired hitmen once our families find out we’re Christians, like they are in Yemen or Africa or basically anywhere outside the West…no. No, we’re not facing persecution like that. We’re not persecuted.

But if you mean, in the context of this conversation, that “atheists and professors and people in the professional sector of our education systems don’t have a weirdly specific bone to pick with Christians,”then you’re wrong. They do. They have. For a long time.

My second semester in college, in my plain old World History class, the Professor legitimately opened his class by explaining to us students that if we wanted, he would allow us to replace our midterm and our final exams with book reports as long as we read two specific books he assigned us. One was a book about how Jesus of Nazareth was not the Messiah and the Bible was false. The other book was a fictional short novel with heavy themes criticizing specifically Christian religion. Those were the two books he picked for his students to skip taking the midterm and the final, if only they would read those two books. And those were the ones he chose.

Not only that, but literally in the first class, I remember being stunned when he flippantly opened his summary of the 18th century by saying, “If anyone ever tells you you should check out the God of the Bible, and follow him, laugh in their face. Don’t do it. He is the kind of God who likes to make His people promises and then strand them in the desert for forty years!” First class. Out the gate. Like it was a joke.

It’s not a joke. Dude just openly mocked two out of the three major world religions that people identify with across the globe. Explain to me how telling someone never to convert to a specific religion and to mock it instead is anything other than “discrimination?”

Can you imagine a Professor getting up in front of a class and saying, “if anyone ever tells you that you should check out Allah ] and follow him, convert to Islam, laugh in their face! And here’s one short novel and one historically inaccurate essay criticizing Allah and making fun of Islam; if you’ll read these, tell you what, I’ll let you skip the two most stressful exams of the semester!”

No, of course you can’t imagine that. A Professor who did that about any other religion, creed, or god would be fired or taken to court or penalized or dragged on social media, at least. But the only student in the whole room who batted an eye when he said that about the Christian God was me. The only one who said anything was me. And it wasn’t a big stand up, dramatic declaration. Momentous music didn’t play in the background. My friends and classmates didn’t’] gasp or support me or stand up and agree with me.

It was just me raising my hand and saying in a shaky voice with a red face, after the sixth time he’d randomly deviated from talking about the Roman plumbing system to describe how the Apostle Paul and the other Apostles supposedly disagreed about who Jesus was (big lie, not true at all, but often used to “discredit” the Bible) to say, “sir, that’s not true. It doesn’t make sense. There’s a verse in the Bible where the Apostle Peter literally tells the church that the Apostle Paul’s words are directly from God.” And then he was like, “okay, I’m going to move on.”

I mean I just felt kind of stupid because the whole class was confused about the interaction; nobody was treating it like it was as important as me or the professor was, so it felt awkward to “make a stand.” But rest assured, all over the freakin’ country, people are excited to use up way too much of their brain power and emotional energy mocking, disparaging, and trying to discredit the God of the Bible and Christianity. They don’t believe in Him, but they’re so he’ll-bent on making sure nobody else does either?? Like, I don’t believe in Big Foot, but I’m not walking around trying to barter my students into reading anti-Big Foot books by giving them a pass on their midterms. But that’s how lots and lots of “athiests” treat the specific Christian God.

That’s not new. It’s not dramatic. It’s not persecution. It’s alllll part of the same old song and dance.

But it is real. The worst thing about God’s Not Dead is it made it feel fake and caricature, when it happens all the time and matters 🤷‍♀️ Anyway. Hope that answered your question.

#God’s not dead #cheesy Christian movies #cheesy #movies #Christianity #me #sorry about the personal anecdote #critical thinking

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obaewankenope · 21 days

Text

I've had a Thought™ in my head for weeks now about an AU where Tim Drake is the grandson of Ra's al-Ghul and also Bruce's son through Janet (accidental kid of Ra's?? Idk). Like... Idk why, or how, but imagine the whole situation with Bruce technically finding another son (who blackmails him into being the Robin to his Batman) but not knowing this (because reasons idfk) and then we get the whole Damian reveal where he's certain he's the only blood kid of Bruce's and then we get the Red Robin arc and Tim actually finding out the truth (at the Worst Time™) from Ra's of all fucking people and then he has to take this knowledge with him back to Gotham and strained relationships and idk how it'd come out but imagine Ra's showing up for his "grandson" or sth and everyone assumes he means Damian because, obviously, except then it's Tim and there's Questions™ after and Ra's just giving a parting promise to catch-up soon (creep). And then you just have them all in the Cave interrogating Tim while the DNA runs and bam! Not only is he Ra's' grandson just like Damian, he's also Bruce's biokid just like Damian. Imagine the angst and the chaos that'd cause for Bruce "I fell apart after Jason died and needed a kid to keep me alive" Wayne realising that the way he treated Tim was Bad and also that's his son, how could he have even!!!

And through all this, Tim is like "I thought you knew and didn't care" or "it didn't matter, you didn't choose me, it's fine" or "well Ra's is an asshole and I'm gonna go ruin his League servers in revenge" because it's not a Big Deal for him (it is, he's just not able to handle this right now... Or ever).

And then we just get some healing and apologies and everyone becomes better and Tim basically gains Talia for an quasi-aunt and "oh no, refund please" while Damian has to come to terms with the fact he genuinely tried to murder his brother from the moment they met and everyone needs therapy yesterday.

Idk where I was going with this... It's just been In My Head Forever.

#Tim Drake #Batman #Red Robin #Damian al-Ghul #Ra's al-Ghul #Batman™#Timothy Drake #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne #Dick Greyson #Jason Todd #Cassandra Cain #Idk I can just imagine bits and pieces for this #Will I ever write it? Fuck knows #I haven't written shite in forever and I miss it

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dreorig · 9 months

Text

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Can you see what I see?

You and Eddie have been friends for a while now, but you never told him about your schizophrenia as you thought that was unnecessary — until you saw Eddie talking to an alien head attached to his shoulder.

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: i'm on the schizophrenic spectrum and this is self indulgent, sorry not sorry. sometimes i see things that you're not supposed to see and i just fuck with it, which made me think that i wouldn't really freak out seeing venom. and now we're here. there's no smut or anything but eddie's a bottom i gotta say (i feel it in my heart). it's mostly silly because we might face the horrors™ but we stay silly. enjoy heheh :)

You had decided to visit a new friend of yours (possibly a crush?), Eddie Brock. It's not like you had anything better to do.

Approaching his door, you just pushed it open, knowing such formalities as knocking on the door were inexistent between you both already. Right away you saw Eddie sitting on the couch, playing what was undoubtedly Yakuza — handsome and with a good taste in games, of course you wanted to kiss him each time you caught yourself staring at him. Oh, he also had a weird alien-looking head popping out of his shoulder talking about a delicious brain it had eaten once. You just shrugged.

"Hi, Eddie!" you closed the door behind you, walking towards the kitchen in hope of finding a clean glass because you were thirsty as hell. "Dear God, this house is a mess! Mine's probably worse, though."

Hey, you found the glass!

"Y/N, what are you doing here?!" Eddie asked with a very alarmed voice, following you.

"Eat him!" you heard the head shout.

"Stop that already! He's my friend! I'm not eating him!"

You stared in confusion as you saw Eddie arguing with the head. You leaned against the wall, rather bored, waiting for it to go away. You sipped your water instead of saying anything, perhaps that cold water was just what you needed. Eddie didn't need to get dragged into the mess that was your mind. Just a little bit and the hallucination would go away.

Eddie suddenly stopped saying anything, unlike the head, and looked at you in some sort of shock, which was cool because it looked like you were finally slipping back into reality and seeing what Eddie was really doing and saying.

Wait— shit, if Eddie was staring at you like that then maybe you said something without noticing? It was okay, you could just play it cool. You smiled and raised your cup, "What? Can't a guy drink his friend's water?"

"You… you're not scared?" Eddie asked, looking like he had seen a ghost.

Oh, okay, you definitely muttered something about your hallucination without noticing. What good would it do trying to gaslight him into believing you said nothing now? You should just say the truth.

"Nah, not really. Years ago I would be but it's just a part of my everyday life now. Nothing to worry about. Sorry if I scared you."

"Y/N, I don't—"

"You? Scary? He's funny, Eddie. I told you to not eat him."

You began, completely ignoring Eddie and looking at the head, "Look,— can't believe I'm arguing with an alien head that is not even real— most people are just normal with normal minds and normal thoughts, like Eddie. What normal person wouldn't be alarmed if I suddenly said I'm seeing a freaking alien head attached to him out of the blue? It's not even like I'm a cool dude with abilities that let me talk to ghosts like Norman or anything, you're just another hallucination."

Now imagine how confused poor Eddie was. Hallucinations? Normal people? Eddie being a normal person? Who even was Norman? He wanted to understand what was going on but with you and Venom arguing it was almost impossible.

"I'm real! And I'm not an alien!" the head shouted, sounding very insulted. "I take it back, let's eat him!"

Eddie has had enough, so he tried his best to just whisper, "Venom, would you just shut up for once and let us talk?!'

"Fine, but keep it in mind that if he offends me again I'll rip him apart and eat his brain with chopsticks!"

You stuck your tongue out to the alien as childish as you could and it did the same — why was its tongue so long?!

Eddie just sighed as Venom finally disappeared. He was really confused. What were you talking about? Were you an agent? Perhaps you had your own symbiote? Could be the only reasons why you weren't scared at all. He got closer to you, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes.

"Y/N, you're not scared of what you saw, right?"

"Nope."

"And you've seen it before?"

"Yep."

"Then you know what it is, right?"

"Duhh, of course. Another hallucination of mine."

"You have hallucinations?"

"Yeah," you chucked. "Every now and then. It's not a symptom that affects me too much, though."

"Symptom?" he tilted his head. "Of what?"

"Oh well, I haven't told you but I have schizophrenia. Before you say anything, I swear that I'm not violent or a threat and that's just some really hurtful prejudice people still have against us that—"

"Y/N," Eddie released your shoulders to hold your hands. "Right now, I'm the last person who could say anything. And honestly, It's not something that bothers me in the slightest."

"Hah, he's insane just like you, Eddie!"

You put a hand on your hip, pointing a finger to nowhere specific, "Hey, you! I don't know where you are but don't you talk about Eddie like that!"

"Ah, so…" Eddie cracked an embarrassed smile. "I'm afraid he's kind of right, I'm not the most sane person at all. And that's why I was so shocked when you opened the door."

"He? What," your eyes widened. "Dude, so you really heard that voice, too?! And I'm just not hallucinating you arguing with that head?!"

"I did, yes. Now you understand my surprise in seeing you? I know what I'm going to tell you sounds like a very crazy story but you gotta believe me."

"Man, haven't I just told you I'm a schizo? Nothing sounds crazy to me. Spit it out because now I'm hella curious."

Eddie hardly knew how to behave. You were the first person to see him talking to his symbiote without thinking he was completely insane and screaming or paralysing after seeing Venom himself. In fact, you looked like a child who was very excited to hear what cool story his parents had to tell him this time.

"What you saw is a symbiote, his name is Venom and we're… kind of bonded. You see, he needs a host and that's how I ended up in this position. I won't hurt you— hell, I'd never. You just can't tell this to anyone, please."

"That's so cool, dude!" You grinned wide. "You don't sweat it, my mouth is sealed! Do you mind if I ask you a few things?"

"It's the least I could do." He chuckled. "Go on."

"You control the symbiote?"

"Not exactly? It's more of a mutual work. Although he takes control over me sometimes, this stubborn creature."

"You're just too soft, Eddie! I gotta do everything myself!"

Only then you remembered the symbiote could talk. You asked, "Hey, Venom, would you mind showing up? Please?"

"Ohh, then Eddie says the same I did and now you suddenly think I'm real? Don't feel like doing so."

"Oh, c'mon! Pretty please? I wanna apologise."

Within seconds Eddie was completely enveloped by the tall and imposing symbiote, who crossed his arms. "You better."

You were beaming with happiness. What a magnificent day. When would you be able to look at a symbiote so closely again?

"Venom, buddy, you're amazing! Truly! I'm sorry for calling you an alien and doubting your existence. You must understand I'm a little out of touch with reality sometimes and I thought you were part of this mess. Now I'm very aware of who you are, though. Are we okay?" you offered Venom a hand shake.

Instead of shaking your hand, he picked you up and hugged you tight. "Hah, I like you, little man! No wonder why Eddie wants you to kiss him."

As if you weren't already happy enough. You smirked, "He does?"

"He does!"

Eddie could advocate for himself but he was so embarrassed that now he preferred being in full Venom mode, this way you wouldn't see his clearly red face.

"Venom, would you mind letting me see Eddie again? Please? I need his help with something."

"More like he needs your help."

Venom let go of you, then just like he had appeared, he disappeared and Eddie was the one in front of you again. He looked so cute with his flustered face that for a moment all you could think about was how even cuter he would look bouncing on your cock.

"Hi, Eddie. Heard you wanted me to kiss you," you took a step closer, having your face just a few inches away from his.

"I- I mean… perhaps? Maybe. I do, yes. Only if you want," Eddie avoided your gaze when he mumbled.

You held his waist and gently pushed him against the island, making Eddie gasp softly when his back hit the cold marble of the countertop.

"Oh, I do. I want to kiss your hands, your forehead, your cheeks, your neck and, last but not least, your lips. I want to kiss you everywhere. And do a few more things other than that if you allow me to."

Eddie felt his hands shake in anticipation as he wrapped them around your neck and closed his eyes. "Fuck, yes, please."

You chuckled before finally leaning in to kiss Eddie.

#ak.writes #eddie brock.#eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x male reader #venom x male reader

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lukaherehelp · 6 months

Text

PLAYBOYY, the guide.

buckle up, this is going to be a long one fam, but first:

now, where was I... AH, YES!

PLAYBOYY the series is a +18 BL series, directed and produced by Chewin Thanamin and screenwritten by Den Panuwat under Copy A Bangkok. Is set to come out November 16th 2023.

The series explores human interaction and its consequences through sex with themes such as escort sex-trade, illegal pornography, online hook-ups for drugs, covert prostitution and sex-love revenge, all to expose human’s darkest nature.

The MAIN PLOT (yes, it has a plot, is not just porn) of the series focuses on the disappearance of Nant, a 3rd year student at P.B. University who, inadvertently to his friends Zouy and First, started to get involved in the nightlife of Bangkok: buying services, having sex with strangers, getting involved in clips, getting involved in drugs... all of this until he went missing. Both friends, teaming up with Nont, Nant’s twin brother, are now set to find out what happened to Nant and where he, or his body, might be.

Only one thing is for sure: everyone is a suspect.

Yes, you read correctly, this show has a cast of fifteen characters and none of them is safe from scrutiny. So! Let me show you a chart with all the boys:

... nothing really

Now, you are probably asking yourself "whom are this people?" Follow me! I'll introduce you:

Let’s begin with our missing boy and the tiny investigation group set to find him:

Nant, 21 ( Nantnarin Saktawee )

MISSING

portrayed by Detch Narongdet

What has happened to him? No one seems to know. What we know is that he's a 3rd year student at P.B. University, at the faculty of Fine and Applied Arts, majoring in Performing Arts. He’s the youngest of the twins. When their parents separated, Nant stayed with their mother, which made him grow into a gentle and sensitive young man, loving towards his friends and fairly cordial to people… But the "perfect nice boy" life made him miserable. Unknown to everyone, Nant started to get involved in the nightlife of Bangkok until he eventually went missing.

Nont, 21 ( Nontnapas Saktawee )

portrayed by Detch Narongdet

The older of the twins duo. At the end of elementary school, after their parents separation, Nont was forced to leave Thailand with his father to live abroad. Although pretty much an introvert, Nont is outspoken and an entrepreneur, a full contrast to his brother. He’s dead set on finding out what has happend to Nant, and he’s not afraid to approach others with the intention of extorting the truth from them and, if needed, seek revenge. He'll get his little borhter back, any means necessary.

Zouy, 21 ( Sippakorn Kichlerdpaisal )

portrayed by Korn Palat

Just like Nant, Zouy is also a 3rd year student at P.B. University, at the faculty of Fine and Applied Arts, although he’s majoring in Fine Arts. He’s described to be laconic but with a hard punch. Never trust a sweet face, I guess. He’s fascinated by human beauty and erotica: “ Sex has been a beautiful thing for the human race in every age and period of history “ - Zouy in the foreplay video, now forever lost u_u Due to his more shy nature, Zouy has been more of an outsider to romantic and sexual relationships, which makes him curious but also afraid of them. Little does he know that his passion for the “artsy” side of it will pull him towards an unexpected but well versed individual on the matter.

First, 21 ( Yodsanant Sarvasiddiwongse )

portrayed by Chat Wasuta

This cutie pie is also a 3rd year student at P.B. University, although his faculty is Medicine. Makes sense for the eldest son of the director of a famous hospital. Maybe is the demanding nature of coming from a wealthy family, maybe is having a mother who puts a lot of pressure and hope onto her children what has turned First into quite the "feral bunny": although he loves his friends to death, he's aggresive, wayward, highly stressed and easly bored. Poor Little Rich Boi™ ( a bop of a song, go listen to it) Maybe is this lack of freedom and entretainment what makes him interested in a particular delivery boy. Or may is how easy is to make him submit to all his commands, no matter how humiliating they are.

other students from P.B. University to take in account are:

Captain, 21 ( Kamontarsna Wang )

portrayed by Vivit Pharunrit

Oh, Captain. Sneaky, little Captain. Another 3rd year student at P.B. University, this time in the faculty of Sport Science. Our boy over here is a textbook brat: ambitious but quite the aggitator. He's assertive and quite the talker, but he's also a hot-head with a lot of anger. This might be the reason why he didn't get the position as team captain for the university's rugby team... initially. Pretty boy has in his posession quite the "interesting" clip about fellow student and coach, Keen, and that might have helped get to where he is at right now. But he's a jealous boy, as much as he tries to hide it. Poor thing doesn't know he never had the upper hand in this situation.

Keen, 22 ( Poomin Suphakijkosol )

portrayed by Boat Pakorn

4th year student at P.B. University, at the faculty of Sports Science. Not surprised that he has to coach the university's rugby team instead of the teacher, and it might be for the best. He's authoritative and presses everyone, making him look agressive, but the boy is actually a sweetheart. Although don't think that stops him for being quite the "dominant force" when dealing with little shits like his fellow teammate, Captain. That boy is eating out of the palm of his hand and doesn't even realize.

Porche, 21 ( Patchanon Ponglerd )

portrayed by Fay Chintub

Another cutie pie! Here we go again: 3rd year student at P.B. University, but we adding a new faculty, Business and Administration! He honestly doesn't care about his studies, really. Prom is the oldest out of the two siblings and has already graduated, so whatever plan their influential father has will relay on him, not on Porche. He's just happy to run Miracle Car Care. Mind you, it might be due to the fact that one of his employees tends to offer "special fixes" to the clients, if you catch my drift, and Porche might be using them as way to fullfill the lack of warmth in his life.

Puen, 21 ( Pakorn Booncharoen)

portrayed by Parm Pawarate

Here is where the worlds collide. He's also a 3rd year student at P.B. University, in Sport Sciences alongside Captain and Keen. But he's also the newest addition to the PLAYBOYY line up. You see, he got into the university by a scholarship, but this doesn't make the uni journey less expensive, so the extra money he gains through PLAYBOYY to pay his studies has to, obviously, be a secret. He's shy, silent and doesn't like to fight, which gives him an "innocent" demeanor many guests at PLAYBOYY are interested to "try out", making him quite the rising star. But the boy has ambition, and he doesn't care whom he might have to use to get into the golden throne of the número 1.

Now, onto the PLAYBOYYs:

Aob, 34 ( Anand Aiemwilai )

portrayed by Aun Warit

Whom is sitted in the golden throne Puen so desperately wants? Aob, of course. He's the most popular host in PLAYBOYY: handsome and charismatic, dashing with his friends, pleasing with his customers. Rised himself from the ground and his gaze is set on saving as much money as possible so that he can have a comfortable life, take care of himself and be proud of his profession. He grew up in a ragged and unwarm family, making him not trustworthy or a believer of love, but he enjoys taking the more "submissive" role when he lets someone in.

Teena, 27 ( Tinarath Somwong )

portrayed by Kaowoat Supasin

You beautiful bastard... He's a senior graduated from P.B. University, at the faculty of Fine and Applied Arts. Just like Puen, Teena used sex work as his way to pay his studies, but didn't left PLAYBOYY right away after his graduation. However, the opression and limited freedom at the club made him take the decision to leave the sex work life behind and went back to P.B. University to offer himself as a nude model for their art classes. He's a hopeless romantic, although life has only thrown rocks to his roof. Due to his former job, no one takes him seriously when it comes to affection, making him cold, but he's really sentimental. And he's sharp. He's being desire for his body for years, that's why he's always worked hard on maintaining it... and yet, the way that 3rd year student looks at him, sends shivers down his spine. The same ones he hopes to provoke on him.

Soong, 24 ( Sorawis Sergio Romano )

portrayed by Jack Giacomo Piazza

Listen, people work with the cards life gives them, okey? Soong has a really basic education, but he's a diligent boy and a hard worker. Good mentality for his delivering job! Oh... and also for a former PLAYBOYY host. He left due to being unable to choose his costumers and, for a while, worked for other hires. But now he "delivers" his "services" to your door 24/7. He's quite layback, but enjoys when things get rough. Pretty rough. A certain wealthy young boy with a lot of anger to unleash might be his perfect match, they just don't know it yet.

Jump, 27 ( Jessada Sopha )

portrayed by Jeffy Chutipan

Another former host of PLAYBOYY. He now works at Miracle Car Care, but hasn't stopped to offer his services. He just... has a new name for them, sort of speak. Is quite surprising to know he used to be a host: he's quite stiff and doesn't like to please anyone. He also doesn't like commitment, so I guess that's why. He hates being objectified, but Porche seems to give him a good time... for a good price, that is.

Prom, 23 ( Prompitch Ponglred )

portrayed by Shell Thankrit

Here we have another Rich Boi™, but in this case he's neither tiny or a meow meow. Prom graduated from P.B. University at the faculty of Business and Administration, same major his little brother is now coursing. However, Porche doesn't seem to know that his older brother doesn't like the live under their father's shadow. So, with a lot to lose and not giving a fuck, he joined PLAYBOYY as host. Makes sense, he's charismatic and sociable, and his BDSM habits attracts clients... Nant among them.

And now we are left with this two, like two peads in a pod:

Nuth, 32 ( Nuthakrit Varindr-Vachararodch )

portrayed by Win Jirapat

Ay, Nuth, la cruel vida del creativo! Nuth dreams of becoming a sucessful film director one day, but with the lost of a family member, he has become introverted, depressed and unmotivated, making him currently unemployed. This has made him dive head first into the world of webcam. Whom would have told him that this decision, alongside drug dealing, would make him meet the only light at the end of his tunnel?

Phop, 21 ( Piphop Srikaew )

portrayed by View Thanatorn

Not every sex worker starts their journey in a high-end club like PLAYBOYY, some take the more classic approach of a "massage parlor" kind a way. However, after a client accused him of "molesting them", Phop had to find his footing again. Alone. Is always being like this since he was a kid. What he didn't expect was to find a kindred soul during a drug exchange.

And that's everything, folks! I have nothing more to share with the class today, but I do have a never ending curiosity, so:

#playboyy #playboyy the series #thai bl #thai drama #bl drama #for anyone not aware #my former account got terminated #so I'm posting the guide again in this new one so it shows up in the tag again u_u

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crepesuzette2023 · 1 month

Note

Any recs for weird Mclennon fics ? I know “weird” means something different for every person but just like any unusual story lines or something that made you pause while reading. ( that includes weird sex as well ) hope this made sense

In this house, weird is a compliment!

Thank you, that's a wonderful ask. As you rightly pointed out, weird is different for every person—but here are some favorites of mine that, I think, match your description. As always, I hope you find something here you like.

The Cum Jar (Anonymous). John and Paul are such loving parents. (Hands off Dick James.)

Birney (bookofapril). Paul McCartney/Paul McCartney.

Macabre (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney share everything.

Sunset Kiss in the Desert Wind (@skylikeaflame): Weird (and hot!) story based on the Mullet Wings Paul is the sad guy at the Home Depot paint counter meme. This is perhaps one of my favorite things.

Some Girls Will Make You Shiver (@eveepe): John and Paul aren't girls, but make love as girls. The gender bending isn't the weird thing; it's how much they stay the same.

Staying with the gender bending but switching to a different tone: a great threat (@pauls1967moustache). Paul and Yoko as powerful female artists competing for John's...let's say aura. The longer I think about it the more I think that this is among the most truthful portrayals of Paul & Yoko I know.

A thrill a moment (harmonising). The Bailey Shoot. Every time I read this, I discover something new, and every time I read this, I feel I'm missing something. That is weird. Just yesterday it hit me that this is how John feels in the story about Paul. A sense of relentless curiosity and mental disintegration, of things slipping and falling into place at the right moment. Can't afford to miss a word of this.

archangel (endcoda_). 1967 Paul thinks he's possessed by the devil.

Paul McCartney/Stuart Sutcliffe is weird by definition. I loved repeat rec The Bass Lesson (@aquarianshift) and Be It Fahrenheit or Centigrade (@dailyhowl).

Open Heart (@revollver). Paul changes into a Vampire. John and Paul remain John and Paul—with a satisfying twist in the end.

Under Both his Thumbs (@idontwanttospoiltheparty). John introduces Paul to Julia for the first time, and they write the song "Suicide." The two POV's live next to each other like harmonies in a song. I loved the description of Julia at the center, and the 1969 echoes of the song.

ageless children, animal sweat (eyeball2eyeball). John, Hamburg, Paul, lashes, absent sanity and throbbing horny energy paired with undiminished powers of cutting wit.

Dawn Patrol (@scurator). Maybe I only find this weird because I'm not British (my weirdness, sad to report, is of the German variety), but I read this with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, like a mesmerized child. Paul and John have sex as Biggles and Algernon.

For though they may be parted (@downtothe-lastdrop). The Tension™ during the Let It Be /Get Back Sessions is being dealt with by introducing the memory erasure from Severance.

A taste of honey (@muzaktomyears): John and Paul fuck and talk about women; things escalate in an excellent way from there.

baby, it's all relative (verse) (@pauls1967moustache). Daddy kink and foot fetish. The weird thing about this is that it's written from John's POV, and he's the quote unquote sane one.

kissing the blarney (@zilabee). The history of the Beatles, in which Paul is the Blarney Stone.

Just for tonight (strwbryfeels). Paul is randy and his hands aren't enough, so he starts humping a pillow, with John and Ringo right there. Crisp white hotel linen will never be the same. Weirdly hot and sweet!

Why Buy the Cow (RedheadAmongWolves): John and Paul from the perspective of...the milk man.

Strings (deux_lunes): An unusual way of telling the John/Paul story.

Odontotos (bookofapril): Paul refuses to let John go after death. I thought I knew where this one was going a couple of times, and I was wrong every time.

The Jane Gives an Interview Series (@ilovedig). Not unfinished, but open ended. Inspired by Jane Asher pointedly not mentioning Paul in an interview; a thought experiment of Paul reacting to the snub, placing him in a relationship with the different men in his life.

#asks #weird fic recs #fic recs #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #fanfiction #beatles fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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grimalkinmessor · 6 months

Note

Once upon a day, in some distant AU, Light and L have swapped bodies. What happens next?

I have so many questions. What caused them to swap bodies? Do they know what the cause is? Do they know how long they're going to be like that? At what point in canon are we in? Or is this like a soulmate "You bodies once a year until you find them" thing? I NEED CONTEXT—

Guh. Okay. So, assuming that it happened at some point during canon, and that they already know each other, a few things could happen.

L wakes up in Light's body. Already off to a weird start, because L rarely ever sleeps and even when he does it's typically not in a bed. Plus L feels—rested?? He doesn't ache anywhere?? He recognizes Light's bedroom, of course, and after that it wouldn't take him long to adjust and believe. "This is happening now."

HOWEVER due to my own personal headcanons this means that L can now see Ryuk. L is now the owner of the Death Note even if he doesn't know where it is or even what it is. Ryuk, being a Shinigami, sees that Light's name has changed and is aware of the swap immediately, so he doesn't spill shit to L, even as he makes cryptic jokes and drops a few no-context hints. So L now has knowledge of Ryuk, but with no way to prove his existence to other people. L, of course, after seeing Ryuk begins a thorough snooping of Light's room. He rifles through all his stuff, sprays all his colognes, peruses his closet and knickknacks, and yes—spends a very long time running his hands all over and ogling Light's naked body. For The Case™.

Then L leaves to go to the Task Force building, and doesn't really,,,bother to explain himself to Sayu or Sachiko beyond "I seem to have found myself in Light-kun's body. No I can't tell you who I am it's an international secret. Good day." He is dressed in Light's brightest colored sweater (a Christmas one he found at the back of Light's closet), and sweatpants. Sayu thinks her brother has had a mental breakdown. Sachiko believes him almost immediately.

Light wakes up in L's body. He's curled up on a couch fetal position, still in jeans and a sweater, and everything hurts. Light never falls asleep with his day clothes on, never falls asleep on the couch, and since he picked up the Death Note, he's never woken up without Ryuk immediately greeting him/hovering over him/prodding for apples. It doesn't take him long to figure it out either, especially considering L's unique appearance. Light rolls with denial for about five minutes before he abruptly compartmentalizes and decides to use this as a chance to go through all of L's computer files on him. And maybe accidentally delete a few. Light also copies down a lot of L's files and contacts and servers onto a flashdrive and hides it somewhere he can bribe Ryuk to come pick up later. No cameras in L's room, right? He might as well take advantage.

Light, however, cannot hide the fact that he's not L from Watari, who caught on as soon as he asked L what he'd like for breakfast and the reply was an orange. Watari clocked him immediately as an imposter and Light was forced to 'sheepishly' and 'disbelievingly' admit the truth of his identity. "L never asks for fruit unless I put it in front of him." "I was trying to ask for something sweet that I could actually stomach, Watari-san. Now that you know who I am could you please fix me a traditional breakfast? I feel nauseous."

Watari JUMPS at the chance to finally feed L('s body) properly after all these years of struggle 🙏

Light quickly discovers that L's body is highly sensitive to certain sounds and textures, as well as persistently uncomfortable sitting still in any other position than the one L's normally sits in. Of course Light bares with it and sits normally anyway, because like hell he's caving to L's (body's) whims. Plus Light's sure now that the reason L's body aches so much is that he's constantly twisting it into weird position to appease his own jitteriness and mental discomfort. Light has far more practice with ignoring those things, don't you know 😌

Then Light's own body rolls up to the Task Force building in the ugliest ass sweater, sweatpants, and house slippers, and Light knows immediately who it is. L's even got his head tucked in like a turtle to minimize sound input like Light has trained himself out of dammit, he's giving Light's body a crick in the neck!! And he's touching him, ugh!!! L get your hands out from under that sweater Light will sue!

From there, Light and L have to tell the rest of the Task Force what happened, and Soichiro is subsequently as offended as Light by L feeling up his son's body from inside it, while Matsuda is mentally flailing over how much L acting like a normal person (acting like Light) makes him more attractive 😳🫣 How did they never notice that L is actually good-looking??

L would then try to expose Ryuk's presence, which would make Light very alarmed, but it wouldn't work very well.

"Light-kun did you know your body seems to be haunted by a large, unattractive crow creature?"

"Huh? You must be seeing things, Ryuzaki, I've never seen anything like that. How scary. Are you sure it isn't haunting you?"

And many other shenanigans!! :D

#asks #anonymous #body swap #lawlight #...? im assuming #death note #yagami light #l lawliet #long post

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steddieunderdogfics · 1 month

Note

Hello! I have a rec for soulmate weekend 💗

It’s: made of light

By: hitlikehammers

It’s so beautiful 🫶

made of light by hitlikehammers

@hitlikehammers

Rating: Explicit

97,130 words, 12/15 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Trope Subversion, Soulmates with Free Will, Pre-Season/Series 01, Post-Season/Series 04, True Love, Misunderstandings, (But Really: If Soulmate A is Told to Hide Their Soulmark Because It Shames The Family), (Then Keeps Doing It Because of Interdimensional Demons and the Feds and the Russians), (And Soulmate B is Taught to Love His Mark and Be Loud and Proud About It), (But Maybe Try Keeping the Gender Ambiguous Given All The Preexisting Targets on His Back Already), (Then What ARE They Expected to Have But MISUNDERSTANDINGS?!), oblivious boys, (to the nth degree though seriously; but it’s not really their faults), Near Death Experiences, Love at First Sight, (but not actually SIGHT because they both just KNOW they love their SOULMATE whoever they ARE), Slow Burn, (because that’s also 100-percent true given they don’t KNOW they’re EACH OTHER’S Soulmate for AGES), Soul Bond, Magical Realism, Sex But Make It Soulmate-esque™, As In: The Most Emotionally Charged Cosmically Connected Near-Preternaturally Romantic Sex, Intercrural Sex, Oral Sex, Happy Ending

Summary:

Soulmates are anything but de rigueur in polite society—more like foolish nonsense, fairytale child’s play: embarrassments. Inconvenient, at best. But the people who have them, and still seek them out; who believe despite the odds, who still commit to finding them and binding their souls to them despite the naysaying and the backlash? Those people know the truth. Because Soulmates? Don’t force love. Aren’t bound without choice. Are built instead on pure potential, of proportions never fathomed—and certainly never found—outside those so-called ‘old fashioned’ Bonds. They are the potential to protect love. To save love. To save the lives that kind of ineffable love holds more than just dear; the kind it holds as essential. Some people even say Soulbonds can almost change the whole world, defy the laws of physics and nature, but then—even among the believers: those stories are relegated to legend. At best. And so: this is the story of two boys from Indiana who—dodging dangers and demons and near-death experiences—wind up in a love never seen before, somehow writing out the kind of legend no one ever dared to dream.

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This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is soulmate au.

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#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #theme weekend #soulmate au #soulmates #post canon #misunderstanding #slow burn #happy ending #smut #soulmarks

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