#i’m gonna get sunburned

[mercury-sappho]

My pride outfit 💖🌈🥰

#it is so hot today #a so am I (: #I’m gonna get a diamond shaped sunburn #femme #lesbian #ootd

[catzgam3rz]

I swear work knows when I’m planning to be productive after shift because without fail they’re like “ah yes! Send this motherfucker into the SUN!”

#I’m wilting I’m actively dying my head is pounding SO hard (<- dramatic but also heat sensitive) #I’m gonna get a fuckin sunburn >:( #‘oh you wanna clean your house? INTO THE GARDEN CENTRE WITH YE’ #rambles #personal I suppose

[acacia-may]

Should I stop listening to “She’d Rather Be With Me” by The Turtles on repeat? Probably.

Will I? No.

#song of the moment #this is a bop #it’s also how i cope #no i don’t mean it in a ship war way (i like a lot of ships please don’t @ me 🙈 #i just want out of kelbrey hell #for the record sunburn is cool too & photobomb #but there’s a reason this one is called baseball bat my friends #it hits so hard 😭 #i’m gonna have to write about them to get it out of my system i’m afraid #but i’ve got to finish across the universe first #then i’ll deal with them 😎 #acacia's ramblings #Spotify #Youtube

[spicysucculentz]

actually delighted that the mets postponed the home opener until tomorrow😍 that means I’ll actually be able to watch it! hooray!

#spicy speaks #they better right the ship and get back to being slay #idk what it is with them playing in Milwaukee they always lose there #I WISH I was gonna be at the game tmrw… #I considered impulsively hopping on the train and heading down but I’m too broke tbh #last I checked all the cheap tickets were gone #got a good couple games lined up for the summer tho😍 #did the student discount pricing drop yet I know uncle stevie was talking about it #would be incredibly slay #maybe I could get tickets that weren’t in the 500s for once😍 #I used to be a longtime enjoyer of sections 501-505 but then during day games I’d get sunburned to a crisp #now I’m more of a 520-525 enjoyer myself #in the shade! #hooray! #fuck I’m so excited #I miss citi field #new york mets

[lovebugism]

hi! reader doesn’t like kids at all, but somehow eddie’s child is just different and the cutest sweetest child who warms their heart

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ the beginning ]

summary: when steve harrington brings you as a plus-one to a munson birthday party, he forgets to tell you it's for eddie's four-year-old, maeve. (1.8k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, meet ugly-ish, fluff, girl dad eddie munson™, r is not used to being around kids (and it shows), baby blurb turned spin-off universe <3

When Steve Harrington invites you to a birthday party, he fails to mention it’s for a four-year-old. 

The tiny trailer is decked out in decoration. A fusion of black and rainbow, of bats and unicorns, of vampires and Tickle Me Elmo — like no one could land on a singular theme. 

Steve guides you into the home with a golden hand on the small of your back, his other clutching a sparkly black bag with Count von Count’s face on it. You stop very suddenly in your tracks. Happy 4th Birthday, Maeve! reads a handpainted sign draped beneath the ceiling.

You become very hyperaware of the whiskey bottle in your right hand, something you figured would be the most sufficient thing to gift someone you’d never met before. You just hadn’t expected the stranger to be a child.

“What the fuck, Steve?” you bite under your breath, glaring at the boy beside you. “I thought you said this was your friend’s birthday party?”

“Maeve is my friend,” he answers with a stupid shrug. “Though, to be fair, I did say it was my friend’s kid’s birthday party.”

He most definitely hadn’t.

“What the hell— I brought booze!”

“That’s okay,” assures a wild-haired boy with a pretty pink grin as he walks up to the two of you. The friend in question. 

Eddie Munson wears a silver ring on each finger and a thick leather jacket despite the warming spring season. His laughter sounds like sunshine. His smile is bright enough to give you a goddamn sunburn.

“Maeve’s been getting presents all day— It’s about time someone got somethin’ for me,” he jokes.

You grimace while the two boys laugh. “Sorry…” you murmur as you pass him the bottle, shrinking inside yourself in an attempt to hide from the moment. I’m never letting Steve convince me to leave the house again, you think to yourself.

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I’ll go stick this in the kitchen— Make yourself at home.”

Your racing heart quells only slightly. He must be more of a good guy than Steve made him out to be, if he’s willing to keep you around after you brought booze to his daughter’s party. Though, you’ll contend that you were only half at fault for this.

Steve bites back a chuckle as he walks you to the back door, standing with you on the little wooden deck lined with sparkly streamers. There’s a picnic table off in the distance, covered in a bat-patterned cloth and set with Sesame Street-themed utensils. A small crowd of teenagers gather around it, and a couple of their parents, you figure.

The spring breeze only half soothes your burning skin.

“See?” he lilts, trying not to laugh and failing. “He likes you already—”

You swat his chest with a less than kind hand. 

“Ow!”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Harrington, I swear to—”

“What’s your favorite animal?” a tiny voice asks from behind you, a smidge too loud and confusing their R’s with W’s.

You look over your shoulder, face flooded with horror. A kid with wild chocolate hair stands at less than half your height, wearing the tiniest Ozzy Osbourne shirt you’ve ever seen beneath a rainbow tutu. You don’t know what to say, so you just blink at it for a moment — at her.

“Hey, Maeve,” Steve greets with a curt wave.

The girl beams, missing her very front tooth. “Hi, Uncle Steve!”

“Wha— Huh?” you stammer mindlessly. ‘Cause you’re not exactly the best at talking to people your own age, let alone to children. They’re too honest. And too loud. And beyond still feeling like a kid yourself most days, you don’t have anything in common with them.

“What’s your favorite animal?” Maeve repeats in the same inflection, smiling until a dimple appears in her freckled cheek. “Mine’s a Hefflelump.”

“Hef… Hefflelump?” you echo quietly, only vaguely registering Steve’s laughter as he disappears through the screeching screen door, leaving you all alone. You’re definitely killing him for this.

“Yeah… From Winne the Pooh!” she says like it’s obvious.

“Oh… Okay…”

“What’s yours?”

You stumble over your words to find an answer. “Um… Uh… I don’t— I don’t know…”

“Everyone has a favorite animal,” she scoffs like some kinda critic with a speech impediment. She tilts her chin to her chest and peers up at you with a pair of doe eyes, so brown they’re almost black. You shift your weight on your feet, visibly uncomfortable beneath her unwavering stare.

“Maybe like a… A blobfish, or something?” you shrug.

Her tiny face screws in disgust. “Gross,” she spits.

You flinch. “What? Why is that gross?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, more defensive than you’d like to admit.

“They’re so ugly,” Maeve giggles.

“Why?” you squint. “‘Cause they look differently than we do?”

“No!” she laughs, loud and golden, just like her father. “’S ‘cause they’re so slimy.”

“Well— You— You’re slimy,” you stammer.

The wild-haired girl grins with all her baby teeth (well, besides the front one, anyway). “You’re slimy!” she echoes with a mischievous twinkle in her chocolate eyes.

The screen door squeals open again, the rusted hinges screeching in protest. “Who’s slimy?” a male voice questions from behind you, a smile audible in his voice.

“You are!” you and Maeve chorus at the same time. 

You whip your head around a second too late. Your heart drops to your ass when you find Eddie lingering in the doorway behind you. You stumble over your words while Maeve giggles. “Sorry! I thought— I thought you were Steve! I’m so sorry!”

A chuckle sputters from Eddie’s mouth. He’s nearly as grieved by it all as you are. “He just left,” he tells you with a lopsided smile, cocking his thumb over his shoulder. “I think he’s helping Wayne out front. They’re putting together Maeve’s d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e.”

His eyes flit upward as he tries hard to spell the word correctly. Upon your confused look, he says, “I can’t say it, or she’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“Right,” you nod.

Eddie crouches and holds his arms out for his daughter. Maeve’s tiny feet patter against the wooden deck as she rushes to him. He huffs at the weight of her — heavier than he remembers and getting bigger every day (which is weird ‘cause she was a newborn, like, a week ago). He grunts when he picks her up, propping her weight on his side.

“What were the two of you talkin’ about, then?”

“Blobfish!” she shouts with a beam.

Eddie breathes out a faint chuckle and turns to you. “She’s forcin’ you to pick a favorite animal, huh?” he wonders, then laughs a bit louder when you nod. “Yeah, she’s been doing that all day. It’s her new thing,” he says, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her curls. 

Realization seems to him then, and his brows furrow when he looks at you. His face, all twisted in confusion, is an exact replica of Maeve’s. 

“Wait— Your favorite animal is a blobfish?”

“That’s what I said!” the girl laughs.

You shift your weight on your feet and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m… feeling very judged in this moment…” you murmur under your breath, only half joking.

“I think that’s the most creative answer we’ve had yet, huh, Mae?” Eddie chuckles.

You scoff. “Well, I think Hefflelump’s pretty creative considering—”

The boy clears his throat, seeming to sense the rest of your sentence. His eyes widen in a lighthearted glare before he nods to the girl on his hip. Only then do you realize the words sitting on the tip of your tongue. You swallow them down immediately.

“Right…” you nod instead. “Nevermind…”

“Here—” Eddie huffs as he sets the girl down again. “—Go find Aunt Robin, alright? She’s probably decorating your cake as we speak.”

Maeve rushes off at the word cake, tottering on lanky, ungraceful legs. The two of you watch her go and linger in an awkward silence. Neither of you is quite sure how to make conversation without her there. You decide to start with an apology.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, by the way. Again,” you laugh awkwardly at yourself, scratching at the back of your neck. “I’m not… I’m not really… great with kids. If you couldn’t already tell.”

Eddie grins, pink and lopsided and pretty. You don’t feel deserving of the warmth swimming in his button eyes, glimmering beneath an early setting sun. “It’s okay. Seriously. You should’ve seen Robin and Steve the first time they met her— they were hopeless. And now they’re… Sort of alright, I guess.”

You force a faint chuckle. “Yeah, I’m— I’m just not used to being around them, I guess. I don’t even think I’ve talked to a kid her age since, like, elementary school.”

“I was the same way. ’Til I had Maeve and all…”

“Well, I couldn’t tell,” you assure him with a wavering smile. “You’re, like, a total pro. You’re great with her.”

He ducks his head to hide his blushing cheeks. The apples of them speckle warm and pink beneath the weight of your compliment. 

“Well… thank you,” he says, deflecting from your praise with that stupid, posh, D&D accent he always uses when he gets nervous. You don’t notice him grimacing at himself because you’re still stewing in your own embarrassment.

“And sorry for the booze, too. I seriously didn’t mean to bring— I mean, Steve didn’t even tell me that—”

“Stop apologizing,” Eddie chuckles warmly. “That part’s not your fault, alright? I don’t know if you know this or not, but your boyfriend’s a total idiot.”

Your face screws up. “Oh, he’s not— Steve’s not my boyfriend.”

The boy’s smile ebbs. “No?”

“No. No way!” you laugh before you mean to. “I’m pretty sure I’m just, like, his replacement best friend since Robin started dating Vickie.” 

Wide-eyed and distantly relieved, Eddie stammers like a teenage boy. “Oh. Right. That’s… That’s cool. Yeah.”

“Yeah…” you echo.

“Well, uh— I’m gonna see if Wayne wants any help,” he blurts despite knowing he’s been barred from doing handy work since he nearly drove a nail through his own finger. He just needs a way out, lest he keep stumbling over himself and lose all of his cool points with you. 

He saunters backward through the opened door and nearly trips over the frame.

You bite back a laugh. He forces a wavering smile. 

“But, um, I was thinkin’ about cracking open that bottle you brought. You know, after Maeve’s in bed and everything. If you— If you wanna hang around that long…”

The silence makes him as nervous as a teenage boy, all writhing and uncomfy in his skin. You nod in agreement, and his sparkling chest swells all over again. “Yeah,” you reply, lip quirked in a poorly hidden smile. “Sure. I’d— I’d like that…”

He smiles, all proud of himself. “Good. That’s… That’s good,” he stutters, then swallows hard and scurries off before you change your mind. 

Before he shuts the squealing screen door behind him, you hear Robin’s voice exclaim loudly from the kitchen. “What the hell’s a blobfish?!”

if u have any other ideas for hijinks these two idiots (and maeve) can get into, feel free to leave 'em here! (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #eddie and maeve

[voguesriot]

SUNBURN ✹ luke castellan

( summary ) a social media au about chb’s fav couple (& their fav shitstirrer, aka percy jackson)

( pairing ) luke castellan x fem aphrodite cabin-coded!reader & small bits of baby percabeth

( notes ) first post ahhh!!! this was so fun to make

♫ Ant Pile by Dominic Fike

♡ liked by wisegirll , silenabeauregard , and others

yourusername my bf is hot but dominic fike if u wanna hmu i can ditch him it’s no biggie 😁🫶

lukecastellan EXCUSE ME

lukecastellan you already completed your rite of passage why do you need to break my heart 😔💔

yourusername want me to kiss that bruised ego better?

lukecastellan sigh… i guess…

seaweedbrain BOOO TOMATO TOMATO BOOOOO

seaweedbrain get his ass off my screen 🤣🤣

lukecastellan sparring arena. you and me. now.

groverunderwood bros rlly beefing with a 13 yr old

seaweedbrain the typa guy to tell me to kms bcs i voted him out in roblox total drama island

clarisselarue this would’ve been so much better without the second slide

yourusername no more like content from here on out 🙅‍♀️

lukecastellan wtf???

yourusername sorry babe i don’t argue with girls who have big brown eyes, whatever she wants she’s gonna get

silenabeauregard YOU LOOK SO CUTESY

yourusername I LOVE U 🥹❤️‍🩹

chrisrodriguez lukecastellan bro ik nobody else here fw you, but i’ll always fw you 💗

lukecastellan you’re a real one bro 👊

aphroditecamper1 u guys are so cute ☹️

♫ Babydoll by Dominic Fike

♡ liked by cbeckendorf , connorstroll , and others

lukecastellan yeah your girl might have a general grasp on battle strategies or whatever but can she bring an oddly unsettling vibe and a cute smile to the function? DIDNT THINK SO ‼️‼️‼️

seaweedbrain put a shirt on man nobody wants to be seeing all that trust 🙏

lukecastellan i wonder if your dad would’ve stayed if you weren’t such a hater

seaweedbrain i wonder if your dad wouldn’t have become the ten dollar founding father if you mom swallowed

yourusername woah…

seaweedbrain when he goes low i go LOWER

wisegirll too far percy

seaweedbrain sorry ma’am

clarisselarue this would’ve been so much better without the second slide

lukecastellan it’s my account???

clarisselarue i stand by what i said.

chrisrodriguez yk i can bring an oddly unsettling vibe too and my ma said my smiles pretty cute so…

yourusername yeah you bring such a crazy vibe!!

chrisrodriguez now that’s just rude

yourusername tried to be a homewrecker but you got wrecked instead 🤷‍♀️

wisegirll yourusername your lashes look so good!!!!

yourusername MY BABY THANK U I LOVE U UR MY FAV PERSON EVER

clarisselarue WTF???

silenabeauregard WTF?????

seaweedbrain WTF????

lukecastellan i’m used to this by now 😔💔🥀

♫ Woman Screaming #2 by Anton Hughes

♡ liked by wisegirll , racheledare , and others

seaweedbrain does he just not own a shirt… COVER YOUR BOOBS SIR PLEASE THERE ARE CHILDREN

lukecastellan why are you taking pics of us having a nap… fan behaviour icl

seaweedbrain i needed proof to file a police report against you for theft

lukecastellan how did you know??

seaweedbrain i was talking ab stealing my innocence but what were you thinking…

yourusername wait perce can you send me the second pic it’s so cute

yourusername send the first one too actually please

seaweedbrain pick yourself up you’re stronger than this what happened to women who stand on business 😔

yourusername i was standing!!! but then my feet hurt and he picked me up :)

seaweedbrain sigh

chrisrodriguez bros looking fine oh my gods

lukecastellan don’t matter if i’ve got a world of haters, i got you by my side

yourusername i’m just gonna leave…

clarisselarue yourusername just saying i’d never pull that shit

lukecastellan ok joke over ha ha funny

wisegirll percy this is a bit stalkerish 😭

seaweedbrain i’m sorry you’re right

this post has been deleted.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x aphrodite!reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #camp half blood x reader

[badolmen]

:)

#ra speaks #personal #it could just be bc they turned on the heat #and the air is dry and dusty #but oooooooh boy do I feel Sickly™ #masked for class today gonna drop off a pcr test first thing tomorrow #this morning it was like eh some post nasal drip and aches I’ll b okay if I get some time outside #time outside: dizzy everytime I crouch/stand to look at mushrooms. feels like I’m walking through molasses. #me: ah fuck #last time I had COVID it was definitely in my chest/affected my taste and stuff/my first symptoms was that false sunburn feeling #so maybe it’s just a cold that’s kicking my ass #pcr results should be in before lab but tbh if they’re not I might tell my prof I need to pass #ALSO incredibly pissed off bc I was out to photograph and ID fungi but 🙃🙃🙃 I didn’t have service so it didn’t upload the ids to the project #for my class so I have to go out AGAIN tomorrow and get some more ids

[flightplan-fox]

my feet hurt so bad it’s not funny

#cedar talks #my entire body hurts tbh #also i think i’m sunburned again #also i think my boss doesn’t like me #also i got like #7 splinters today #and a lot of dust in my eye #i have so much work to do tomorrow #it’s gonna suck so bad #i hope my boss doesn’t get angry with me again #can you tell i’m using tumblr to just complain

[asher-ic3]

OK SO, IM LEAVING FOR THE BEACH TMRW MORING AT 2 AM WHY AM I TELLING YOU THIS YOU MIGHT ASK?? ✨IDFK✨ IS THE ANSWER

#help #I’m gonna get so badly sunburned #ahhhhhhhggdghd 😭 #let’s hope I don’t get insecure abt my tummy :) #sighhhh #I made me a non-binary and bisexual bracelet tho✨

[the-californicationist]

he gets his revenge

Part 2 to "he comes closer and closer" -- at @numberonetastemakerwhispers request. <3

TW: explicit consent, sadism, masochism, spanking, degradation

“I know all of your hiding spots, pretty girl,” Price teased you in his low, rumbling voice, “....and I know that this one is your favorite.”

He was right, of course. But, you’d chosen this one on purpose. There was a part of you that wanted to be caught this time. You saw his bare feet pad slowly, skillful and silent, across the concrete floor of the office. You had fled to the base's reference room, and you were hiding under the microfiche machine. It wasn’t big enough to allow him in, but you could just barely squeeze through. 

“You like it because I can’t come in there after you, but...” he leaned his head down to the ground in a half-plank, snarling at you in the orange glow of the machine’s lamplight, “I have a long reach.”

You tried to dodge his hand, but he caught you by the ankle and dragged you out of your burrow like a cat does to a mouse. He flipped you over onto your stomach and shoved your body underneath his. He was still only wearing his gym shorts from before, and his dick remained soft and spent from your earlier edging. He’d asked you to play with him, to edge him, and you had. But, you may have taken it a little too far. Now, he wanted revenge and it was very much at hand. 

“John! Please. I was just doing as you asked!” He loved it when you turned helpless. You raised the register of your voice to a higher pitch, exciting his drive even further, feminizing your movements by over-exaggerating your cowering stance. Doe eyes. Just for him.

“Yeah?” He chuckled darkly, fully unrestrained in this dark office, “Call me by the name I like, love, or else…”

You pressed the first of many buttons,

“John…”

The slap that hit your ass was so hard that it made your body run cold. You couldn’t even scream. It was as if you had been a camera, and your mind had just taken a photo with the flash on. You were dazed by the stinging pain. He was upset, that much was certain. As the burn melted into a masochistic sort of pleasure, tingling out and radiating from the point of impact like a fresh sunburn, you cried out the words he wanted to hear,

“Sorry, Captain! Please…”

He purred like a lion, humming his approval as he pinned you to the dirty floor,

“That’s a good girl. Why can’t you be so good all the time? Such a fuckin’ brat. Needs her Captain to show her how to behave.”

Two more slaps stung sharply through your skin. One was to your ass cheek again, the same aching spot, but the other was to your hamstring on the back of your thigh. That one made you cry out in earnest.

“Mmm, yes. That’s what I like to hear. Sing for me, pretty girl.” 

He took both of his huge hands and smacked them down at the same time on both of your thighs. Your body tried to make sense of the feeling, and you could literally feel the wetness begin to slip out from between your folds, making your pussy lips slide together as you writhed from the pain, trying to escape his trap. 

“Ah! Please, please, Captain. I’m sorry,” you begged, knowing how much he liked it. Second button pressed, you waited for his response. 

“You will be.”

You had truly underestimated his wrath this time, and you were worried that he might actually take it too far. 

He grabbed your pants and raked them down, exposing your ass and thighs. He hummed, running his fingers lightly over the damage,

“Mm, that’s gonna be a bruise, love.”

Price slapped you hard again, just like the first one, but this time on bare skin. You felt it rattle your bones in your body, and you seized up from the pain, involuntarily trying to escape it. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You had known you’d be a crying mess after his threat to chase you down, but you hadn’t expected to cry so soon. 

He grabbed your hair and yanked your body back into a cruel arch to meet his face as he hunched over you, menacingly. Price had a glare in his eyes that made you imagine him as some sort of animal. Beastial and primal in his ruthlessness. He kissed you, awkwardly and upside-down, licking you more than truly kissing your mouth. He whispered softly into your face, a heavy contrast to the pain he was causing to your body,

“Are you wet for me, love?”

You tried to whisper out a yes, but he was pulling your neck at such an angle that only the air escaped through your gritted teeth. He understood you anyway, letting your body fall back to the floor unceremoniously.

“You are, huh? Let’s see, shall we?” He pulled your ass cheeks apart like he was breaking open a pomegranate, witnessing your plump flesh turn red from his slaps and spill its juices from your swollen lobes.

He seemed pleased, letting out a low whistle and chuckling to himself, delicately fingering your drooling hole, soft and supple, pulsing with anticipation,

“Wow… look at you. My naughty girl craves her punishment, don’t she?”

“No! No, Captain, I - ah!”

The captain used his other hand to smack you hard and fast, three times in the same spot. 

“Oh, fuck. You do like it, love. I can tell. Every time I hit this fat arse...” he slapped you again for effect. You let out a sob. He continued, “...your pretty little cunt grabs my finger and doesn’t want to let me go.” 

He was moaning now, humping his hard length on your thigh, fully erect again and extremely aroused,

“I wanna feel that with my cock, love. Green?”

Price was good about checking in, especially in the middle of a scene. He was patient, and he gave you plenty of processing time, leisurely fingering you while he waited for your consent. You sniffled, nodding,

“Yes, Captain. Green.”

He slapped you twice and left his hand on your ass to fondle it roughly, shaking it like a dog with a rabbit in its mouth. 

“Good. Now, give me what I want.” 

You were openly crying now, tears rolling down your cheeks. You peeked over your shoulder to show him your tears and to watch him push himself into you. He had his shorts rucked down to his knees and his cock in his hand, pointing it towards its target, and as he found it, you watched Price’s face twist into that familiar agony you knew so well.

Teasing him had been enlightening, and you knew that he only made that face when he was on the brink of his pleasure. You decided to press button number three, and you slammed your hips back into him, forcing his cock inside of you all at once as opposed to the controlled entry that he had planned. His eyes went wide with shock, and he looked up at you, just in time to see you hide your grin. The captain’s gaze turned sinister. 

As much as you had tried to spear yourself onto him, you’d left a few inches on the table. His first order of business was to remedy that, ramming you down to his base, stretching you far beyond what you had bargained for. Then, he began to slap you in steady, harsh, evenly-spaced beats. He chose a cheek at random, so you never knew what to expect except for more burning pain.

Each time he slapped you, you cried out, and eventually, the pain warped itself into rhythmic bliss. You could feel yourself clench around him. He wasn’t even thrusting into you, but it felt like he was since your body was squeezing him so damn hard. 

“You naughty girl,” he berated you, slurring his words, “Thinking you could rush me, trying to fuck yourself on me like a…” every word forward was punctuated by a slap of its own, each harder and more merciless than the last, “...filthy. fuckin’. slag!”

He gathered you up by your shoulders, somehow reaching into you deeper than before at your new, arched angle, and you moaned from his effort, feeling your pussy melt around him like hot wax. Price groaned too, low and slow, and you could feel his rod throb inside of you, aching to come. With your chest high, he raked up your shirt and played with your nipples messily and without aim, growling into your ear,

“Such a good little slut for me. Always so goddamn starved for my bloody fuckin’ rod, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied obediently, making sure to put a high-pitched whine on it for his benefit, and for yours.

Price began to thrust into you now, no less cruelly than his hand had treated you, hard and deep, bullying your womb with his fleshy, swollen head. 

“Mmm. Every time you pulse around me, it makes me want to come in you. Makes me mad with it. I imagine how it feels while I watch you on base, sittin’ in your fuckin’ uniform, listenin’ to my bloody briefings, starin’ at me all hungry like. Arghh!” He slapped you again and sighed contentedly, “I get so. bloody. hard.”

“Ah! Captain, please…” He was too deep. It was as if you could feel him in your throat. If you swallowed, you thought the spit would soak his cockhead. 

“It’s my favorite fuckin’ thing,” he smacked you over and over, fucking you into the concrete floor, thrusting your body forward with his massive weight. Your nipples were raw, scraping the ground, and you tried to use your hands to catch yourself, but he was too strong. 

He shuddered, shouting with a gravelly resonance, still slamming himself into you, pushing through his orgasm, and you felt him spilling into you, warmer than usual. It felt like he had poured hot caramel into your walls and was stirring it up in you, frothing his cream to a bubbling, sticky mess. 

Then, he stilled. Laying on top of you, he panted harshly, trying to catch his breath. He began to kiss your neck and shoulders. Then, he gently removed himself and pulled your body into his lap, leaning against the photocopier behind him. You were draped across him, clutching his chest and neck with your hands, crying softly into his skin from your twisted joy. He used his fingers to play inside of you gently, feeling his messy come and spreading it all over your folds, massaging it into your ass cheeks, smearing it across both of your holes. 

“You okay, love?”

“Yes, sir,” you kissed his chest as it was the closest thing your mouth could reach.

“Gonna come back to my quarters tonight? We need to ice that arse. Not gonna be able to run your drills tomorrow.”

“Drills?” Your voice couldn’t hide your panic. 

He chuckled, kissing your forehead,

“I warned you, love. Don't test me.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price smut #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pool Day | for @steddiemicrofic's April prompt

pairing: steddie (duh) | word count: 1,987 | rated: T | on AO3

“Thanks for having us, Steve Dear,” Mrs. Henderson greets, stepping through the front door after Dustin barrels in and handing him a huge covered bowl of potato salad.

Steve grins at her, taking the dish, “It’s no trouble at all Ms. H; thanks for bringing this, you know it’s my favorite.”

“Of course, hon!”

“Claudia!” Joyce calls from the living room, “Come help me settle this.”

“There’s nothing to settle!” Hop argues in return.

Steve snorts out a laugh, “Good luck, Ms. H.”

Claudia sighs, shakes her head, and heads into the fray.

Steve goes the opposite way, dropping the bowl off in the fridge with the other lunch cookout ingredients Wayne and Hopper will be starting in on in only a couple hours now, grabs a bottle of water for Robin, and follows Dustin’s route back outside to the patio.

It’s a clear, warm, sunny day in the late summer of ‘86. The whole ‘other dimension survivors’ party is in attendance at Steve’s place for the day; Hop, Joyce, Karen, Claudia now, and even Wayne are staying inside in the A/C, the kids are in the pool, and all but the one of the ‘older kids’ are lounging around on the Harringtons’ sun chairs.

Argyle in particular is soaking up the UV rays.

Jon is burning to a crisp under his and Nancy’s umbrella.

It’s Eddie, however, that’s been in the pool practically all morning, and is currently hyping himself up to do… something.. off Steve’s creaky, probably dry-rotted, diving board.

He does look good up there; drenched head to toe with his hair pushed back from his face like that. If he wasn’t covered in pool water, Steve would want to lick him.

…okay, he probably still would.

Robin elbows him as if she can read the thoughts straight from his brain.

”Shut up.” he grumbles out the corner of his mouth, sitting on his previously vacated chair beside her and passing over the water.

She just snorts at him in return, taking the bottle from him and going back to her book..

”Eddie, dude, it can’t be done.” Mike groans, “If I can’t do it, you can’t do it.”

”He’s got an 82 percent chance of landing flat on his stomach.” Erica states.

“It’s gotta be higher than that.” Max says, “I’d give it 93 percent.”

“Never.. tell me the odds.” Eddie declares from atop his perch. The board creaks when he shifts his weight.

His eyes keep darting from the end of the diving board to the clear, blue water beyond it, and back again.

Steve calls across the backyard, “What’s it he’s trying to do?”

“He says he can do two whole flips before he hits the water.” El says, piping up from where she is laying on a towel on the far side of the patio next to Max.

Steve grimaces, “Does he now?”

”…He’s gonna die.” Dustin says. “Again.”

Lucas is the one to go to bat for their DM, ”Give him a chance, dude, he says he’s done this before.”

“See, you say that, but we all know how uncoordinated he is. Can you bellyflop to death? ‘Cause that’s how he’s ‘bout to go.”

“Don’t fuck this up, Eds, I’m not CPR certified anymore.” Steve calls from his spot beside Robin who leans in immediately to whisper, “What are you doing? If he dies you can give him mouth-to-mouth!”

Steve blinks once at her, turning back to Eddie who’s still hyping himself up for his promised double-flip. “Never mind, I remembered it!”

Eddie breaks from his focus on the board in front of him to give Steve an exasperated, questioning look. Steve winks in return, making the sunburn on Eddie’s skin burn brighter.

He’ll get the hint(s, there’s been multiple) eventually… hopefully.

The advice starts coming from all sides; “C’mon, man just do it already!”

“Yeah, Are ya gonna go or what?”

“Let him work up to it!”

“You work up to it.”

“That’s it, you’re going down, Wheeler.”

“You’re never gonna go are you?” Max yells, ignoring the scuffle starting up between Will and Mike

“Do a run-up!” Dustin suggests, and Steve stops that one in its tracks.

“No! No running around the pool!”,

Nancy chimes in, not looking up from her magazine. “Just don’t die, Eddie.”

”And what, desert all you losers? What’d you even do without me?”

“He’s got a point,” Erica concedes, deadpan, “Who would we watch hurt themselves if you weren’t around.”

“Alright, alright, alright, shut up, I’m going.” Eddie says, waving his arms around, “In three…two…one!”

And he does. He goes for it, bounding off the end of the board, completing exactly one and a half turns, and landing stomach-first onto the surface of the water.

Sympathetic hisses of pain and grimacing ‘Oohs’ erupt around the pool as Eddie sinks into the water.

To his credit though, he manages to stand on his own soon afterwards.

Steve calls out to him, “You okay, Eds?”

“I think I’m gonna need that mouth-to-mouth, big guy.” Eddie groans, then flops face-first back into the water dramatically, much to the amusement of the gathered peanut gallery.

“What a doofus, why do I have a crush on him again?” Steve asks Robin in a low voice as he stands from his chair.

Robin sets her book down on her lap, counting out on her fingers without looking up at him: “Big hair, big eyes, big smile, bigger heart.”

“Ah, yep, that’ll do it.” he nods, then drops down off the edge of the pool into the water. “Alright, dumbass, that’s enough pool for you.”

He wades over to Eddie, still floating face-down on the surface of the water, and scoops him up in a bridal carry.

“Blegh…” He feigns death, letting his tongue loll out the side of his mouth. The backs of Eddie’s arms and the very ends of his hair trail along the rippling surface of the water when he lets his head and arms flop backward, bonelessly out of Steve’s hold.

Steve rolls his eyes and drops his arms just enough to submerge him again. His yelp of surprise is muffled when he goes under, much to the delight of the rest of the party.

But Steve gets his arms under him again quickly; Eddie scrambles for a hold around his neck while continuing to splutter, spitting out a mouthful of pool water and pushing the hair off his face to reveal his now-red face.

Steve smirks cheekily down at Eddie’s murderous glare, wrapping his arms tighter around the other man. He walks through the shallows back to the pool steps with Eddie still in his arms (“You bringing me to a chair, Stevie?”), climbs up the first one, then stops.

He looks down at a now confused Eddie (“What? What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around for something what it was that made Steve stop.), smirks mischievously, then, before he can parse out what’s about to happen, Steve twists around and tosses Eddie back into the water.

His flailing limbs just barely miss Mike’s head (Oops, sorry Mike,), the resulting splash hitting at least four of the five gremlins still in the water.

Grinning widely at the others’ laughs, Steve hurries up the stairs and around to the side of the pool closest to where Eddie fell, looking down at him over the edge as he re-emerges from the water, spluttering and coughing, and flips his bangs haphazardly up off his forehead.

“What happened, Eds? One minute you were safe in my arms, and the next, you were back in the water! It’s the strangest thing.” Steve can’t hold back his grin any more than he could his sarcasm, reveling in the murderous glare Eddie is giving him.

Eddie continues to glare, the other kids snickering off to start what sounded like a game of chicken.

“What’s wrong, Teddy, d’ya not like being thrown aroun–” Steve’s awareness of his surroundings kick in a fraction too late; the kids parting out of the way, the smirk that appears on Eddie’s lips a moment before disaster, the somehow still-cold hands that splay and push against the warm skin of his back, sending him toppling over the edge and into the water himself.

Resurfacing to resounding, howling laughter from all sides, Steve similarly flips his hair back and glares at his new nemesis, Robin, standing above him all smug.

“I… hate you.” he tells her, with no real heat behind it.

“Love you too dingus,” she waves and turns back to her chair.

“So whattya say pot, gonna join this kettle in solidarity against the hoard?”

As if he could ever say no to those eyes.

“Sure Eds, hop up.”

And of course, Eddie makes a big deal about it, “What?! Who says I can’t carry you on my shoulders, big boy?”

Steve shrugs, “Okay, squat down and I’ll climb up.”

To his credit, he actually does, letting Steve get situated (and panic silently about where Eddie's head is… 'Ridiculous.' he tells himself.) and standing up, his arms locked around Steve’s shins.

Steve holds his arms out to help keep his balance on Eddie’s shoulders, “Holy shit man, I didn’t think you had it in you!”

Eddie grits out a low “I don’t..” then pitches backwards, sending them both under the water.

Opening his eyes to the burning chlorine, Steve watches the blurry shapes of Eddie’s legs get their bearings on the pool floor once again.

As soon as his feet are settled on the floor, Steve swims forward and around Eddie’s now-kicking legs, the gangly appendages trying futilely to keep him away.

He’s almost out of breath so he clamps a hand on one of Eddie’s knees, using it as an anchor to get behind him and puts his head between the other man’s legs, sitting the backs of Eddie’s thighs squarely down on his shoulders.

He stands, his hair plastered flat to his forehead by the water, and by Eddie’s hands where they hold onto him for dear life.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Eddie says when Steve attempts to shake the hairs off his face, pushing the offending hairs out of his eyes and back up onto the top of head.

Steve tilts his head back as far as he can, looking up at the man on his shoulders.

Eddie’s head blocks out the sun, and it gives him a halo made of sunlight. “Thanks sweetheart.” Steve says, only to Eddie, then faces down the rest of the shitheads. “Alright shitheads, who’s up first?”

Steve and Eddie play against each of the others, some pairs taking longer, some only taking a single shove to get Eddie to topple down into the water.

And each time Steve scoops him back up, Eddie pushes the hairs off his face, scooches his bony butt around to get situated (seriously, how does he sit for any length of time on that thing?!), and gives Steve’s cheek a pat of encouragement before they face off against another round of kids.

Jon and Argyle go up against them once, and it’s the longest round of the afternoon.

Eventually though, about halfway through their chicken tournament, the ‘real’ adults file outside to the Harringtons’ patio table and start up the grill.

By time Jon finally dislodges Eddie from Steve’s shoulders, it’s time to eat.

Eddie’s the last one out of the water, and Steve savors every moment it takes him to trudge up the pool steps, winded, probably aching, but smiling wide, as gorgeous as ever.

“C’mon Stevie,” he huffs, “Let’s get some grub. I’m starving after beating all these twerps.”

“They kicked our asses, Eds.”

“Yeah, but it was fun though, right?” Eddie grins, walking ahead of him to grab, still soaking wet, a handful of (now also soaking wet) hamburger bun.

Steve smiles to himself, watching Dustin and Lucas gang up on him for adding chlorine to their food. “Yeah it was.”

i had to do the fake one too!!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #st #steddiemicrofic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #flirting #so much flirting #using pool tomfoolery as a flirting technique #noelle writes

[dazednmatthews]

sick!matt headcanons

based on this ask n answer i saw on my feed!! all credits to both of these amazing ppl for the idea!!!

-matt is definitely the type to be a whiny mess when he’s sick

-we alr know his ass is in his room and sleep 24/7 but the second he starts to feel even a little bit ill he’s in there with blinds drawn and bundled in his blankets so tight

-he’d be texting you every second he is awake though, begging to see you

-“please baby. i just want to be next to you.”

-and ofc course you don’t give a damn about getting sick because that’s your man and you’re gonna stick beside him!

-“i know, honey, i’m coming. gotta stop at the store to get you some things.”

-matt always likes to find new shows to watch. it’s like his thing, but when he’s sick it’s a constant marathon of all his comfort shows and movies.

-“can we watch taken?”

-“again?”

- “it’s such a good movie, babe. liam neeson is just too good not to be a real spy.”

-“whatever you want, matty.”

-you love taking care of him, but getting him to take medicine is the most annoyed you feel

-“that shit tastes so bad, i’m not drinking that.”

-“do you want to feel better or not?”

- you’d argue back and forth for a little while but you get your way regardless

-“matt if you don’t take this fucking cough syrup, i’m going home.”

-“…fine. where is it?”

-a lot of naps. constant napping.

-you’re both cocooned underneath several blankets, legs intertwined, matt’s head on your chest. he’s been in and out of sleep all day while you’ve been watching the movie playing softly on the t.v. your hands are running through his hair affectionately. his hands are wrapped around your waist tightly. you think this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever been.

-when you eventually have to get up, you do your best to unwrap yourself from his hold, but his ass will not let go.

-“where are you going?” his voice is thick with sleep and a little nasally cause of his congestion.

-“babe, i have to pee.” you pat his head affectionately. “you’re gonna have to let me up.”

-“nooooooo,” here comes the whining again. “stay.”

-“the quicker you let me up, the quicker i’ll be back, matt.”

-chris and nick make fun of him so bad for it.

-“he’s fucking insufferable when he’s sick. i don’t know how you’re doing it right now.” nick says.

-“he’s not that bad,” you roll your eyes while heating up some soup for the two of you.

-chris laughs, “this is hilarious. big, bad, tough guy matt getting his ass kicked by a cold.” he’s much more happy than he should be at that. “mr. tough guy getting spoon fed soup by his girlfriend.”

-you let them have their fun for a while before you light heartedly shut them up. “lets not forget that mr. tough guys girlfriend has cleaned up your-” you point at nick, “vomit, and has also babied you when you got your ass kicked by a sunburn.”

-they shut up after that

-sleepy matt is one of your favorite versions of him

-when you come back into the room he’s sat up against the headboard shirtless, doing that cute thing where he rubs his eyes incessantly, blankets pooled at his waist

-his hair is strewn about, fluffy and wispy. he stretches, enough for you to see the top of his pj pants

-he looks at you as you enter, gatorade and soup balanced in your hands

-you put the dishes and drinks on the bed side table and he smiles at you oh so warmly

-he moves from his spot to the side of the bed where you stand, opening his legs for your to go in between them. he looks up at you, pulling you towards him. your hands find his shoulders, kneading softly.

-“thank you, baby.”

-“of course, matty. you’ve gotta stay hydrated if you’re gonna get better.”

-“no, not for the soup. well, yes for the soup, but i mean for everything. for staying with me. for taking care of me. i know i’m a lot right now.”

-he looks sheepish, so you bend down to kiss his cheek.

-“you’d do the same for me.”

-you stay there for a couple sweet moments, his face pressed into your stomach and your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck

-eventually you both lay back in bed, ending the day doing your favorite thing, just holding each other

-of course you end up sick

-you’re a lot better at being sick than matt but it never matters

-he’s babying you just the same

-“can’t believe being a good girlfriend got me sick. i hate you.”

-he rubs your back while your head is in his lap

-“i’m sorry sweetheart. don’t worry, though. i’ll take good care of you. just rest.”

-you’re not worried in the slightest. he always does.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo edit #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo headcanon

[mountainsandmayhem]

congrats on 500!! 💗

ILYSM!! could you write this drabble we were talking about😈 a lazy Sunday morning riding Joel..he says something like “use your daddy” and/or “that’s my girl.” thank you daddy 🤭😂

Sunday With Your Dad’s Best Friend

18+

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

AN: thank you baby for this great request. I hope this lives up to your expectations 🩵. Did I proof read this? No, of course I didn’t. ✌🏻 YOLO.

CW: I don’t want to give away too much, but wrap it up (be better than these two) use of nicknames and based on the ask one of those nicknames is daddy.

Joel freakin Miller. Your dad’s best friend and your secret hook up for the past few months. Sunday mornings with Joel might be your favourite. Your parents think you’re at work, but instead, you park your car in his garage and spend the day flirting, cuddling and fucking.

It’s a beautifully warm summer morning, Joel is sitting on a pool lounge chair in his backyard, long legs stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other. He’s in mid thigh length neon green shorts that accentuate his tan, and no shirt. Sun kissing his chest, and it feels weird to be jealous of UV rays that get to touch him in places that are only for you.

He glances up over his book to watch you swimming laps in his pool. The water glistens off your bare back and ass, legs fluttering gracefully beneath the water. As you reach the end furthest away from him you dive under, spinning your body and pushing off the wall to swim back towards him. As you come up to the surface you spin onto your back, cherry pink nipples skimming the surface as you backstroke through the water. He’s never been more thankful for all the tall trees and bushes he planted to make his backyard completely secluded from his neighbours.

Joel puts his book and reading glasses down as your naked body ascends the steps of the pool in front of him. He crosses his toned arms and tilts his head to the side, eyes watching the water droplets run down your body, pooling in the curvy areas he loves so much.

“Gonna get a sunburn if you aren’t careful, baby girl,” he says, concern and arousal fighting each other in his voice.

You blink at him, gathering your hair to the side and squeezing out the water. “Yes, daddy.” You tease, water splashing against the hot paving stone of the pool deck.

He shakes his head and smirks, a dimple forming on his cheek, highlighted by the sun glinting off his greying facial hair. “Careful with that nickname, darlin’.”

Baby girl and darlin’ in a matter of minutes has you itching to get your hands on him. “You just called me two nicknames back to back. That’s cheating.”

“Cheatin’, hey? How so?” His voice has dropped an octave, and that’s almost worse than a nickname.

You wander over to the table beside him where your towel sits. You reach out for your towel as you say, “Makes me want you.”

Joel grabs your wrist, his large, strong hand easily circling the tapered part of your arm. “That right? Someone feelin’ needy,” he pauses before adding, “Sweetheart.”

A little whimper escapes your throat as his coffee and brown sugar-speckled eyes wash over you.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, pulling gently to stand beside him. Your eyes flick down to the tent forming under his swim trunks.

“Can I…” you start, voice shaky and shy.

“Don’t be shy, baby girl. I’m yours, remember?” You nod as he continues, “And you’re mine. So anything you want. Anything.”

You shut your eyes and take a slow breath, perky breasts rising and falling close to Joel’s face as his thumb caresses the smooth inside of your wrist as a form of silent encouragement. “I wanna ride you.”

You open your eyes to see Joel smiling proudly at you. “Good girl,” he hums, releasing your wrist and slipping his swim trunks off. His cock is hard as nails from just the sight of you, he leans back in his lounger - not quite sitting at a full 90 degrees.

“Come on, baby. Straddle me,” his hands come to your hips as you stretch one leg over him and then down onto his lap. His thick shaft rests between your bodies, your pussy sliding along him as you sit. Your clit twitches with every vein and ridge.

Your hand's card through his hair as his hands move to the globes of your ass, encouraging you to grind along him. You lower your face to him, kissing him slowly as you buck your hips back and forth. You swallow the deep moan that passes his lips, slanting your head and licking along his bottom lip.

He kneads the curves of your ass, “more,” you whimper.

He lifts you slightly, then brings one hand to his cock, pumping it a few times before teasing your clit when the head, pre cum leaks from the slit and he spreads along your already soaked and silky cunt.

“Shit, darlin’, so wet already,” he whispers, sliding the head to tease at your tight entrance.

This is your favourite part, the painful little stretch when he first pushes himself in. He always gives you time to adjust before fucking you, today is no different as he pushes your hips down to swallow all of him. You cry out as you settle onto him and his lips crash into yours to stifle you. “Sshhh, the neighbours could be out,” he mumbles into your lips, chest heaving as he adjusts to your tightness choking him.

“Sorry, just feels so good,” you moan quietly.

“I know, baby girl. I know.” His strong hands massage at the creases of your hips. “This what you needed? Me buried deep inside that beautiful little pussy?”

You feel the walls of your pussy flutter around him. Joel is good with his hands and tongue and has the perfect sized cock for you, but it’s his filthy mouth that usually starts that familiar ache to build at the base of your spine.

“Yes,” you huff, slowly grinding into him.

“I can tell. So tight for me. Can feel you fluttering around me already.” Your hands move from his hair to his broad shoulders, using them to leverage yourself so you can get better momentum to slide back and forth.

“Oh god, Joel,” you coo. The ache turns into bubbling lava.

“Kiss me,” he says, strong arms winding around you and pulling you into his chest. You kiss him deeply, tongues lazily flicking against each others as you glide your hips back and forth against him. At this new angle, the soft part of his lower body hits your clit, the slight curve in his cock hitting that spongy part that makes you weak and boneless.

All of the movements from you and Joel are slow and soft, almost lazy. Neither in a rush to orgasm or to get to the next part of your day. This is all that matters right now.

Joel breaks the kiss, hand sliding up your back to the nape of your neck, gently encouraging you to turn your face so he can kiss along your jawline toward that soft part below your ear. “That’s my girl,” he says quietly, just for you to hear. “Use your daddy to cum.”

Your body jerks faster, the bubbling lava close to the eruption point. He lets you move at your own pace, flicking your hips once, twice, and three more times before you feel it. “Good girl, let go,” his teeth graze your earlobe as you fall apart.

You bury your face in his neck. Whispering his name, body going slack. He takes over, hands gripping your lips tightly and moving them in the same pattern you were.

“Oh fuck….yes, daddy. Please,” you’re a whispering, mumbling mess as the pleasure waves through you. The sensitive hard bud at the top of your cunt twitching and pulsing with each graze of his belly. “Don’t stop, Joel. Please - please don’t stop.”

“I know, sweetheart. I got you,” he doesn’t speed up, doesn’t slow down; he does exactly as you ask. “That’s my good girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

“Fill me. Fill me, please.” You whine, kissing the crook of his neck.

“Fuck. Shit, baby girl.” He says, head falling back to the lounger. You pull back to watch him. Eyes clenched tight and mouth slightly agape. Small beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Look at me,” you whisper, slowly retaking control of your body, swivelling your hips into him. His soft brown eyes peel open, dancing around your face. “Please, Joel.”

“Call me daddy,” he moans, his dick getting harder as you ride him.

“Please, daddy. I’ve been such a good girl. Fill me.” You say sweetly, just the way he likes it, before sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Joel’s breath hitches as his hips stutter, hands clamping down on your hips to still you. “Shit, yes. Yes. Oh fuck, you’re so good for daddy.” His cock jumps and twitches inside you as ropes of cum coat you, marking you and claiming you as his.

As he comes down he pulls you onto his chest, lips kissing lightly along the hairline of your forehead. “God damn, little one. I love when you talk dirty to me like that.”

You nuzzle deeper into his warm chest. “Noted…daddy.”

A deep growl fills his chest. “I’m still inside you, careful with that nickname.”

“I’m having Deja Vu,” you joke.

“As soon as I get control of my legs, I’m takin’ you inside and lickin’ that little pussy clean in the shower,” Joel says matter of factly.

You giggle, “Anything you say, daddy.”

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel x oc #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x y/n #joel x you #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel

[ghouljams]

I’m in a mood for cowboy! Ghost. How would Goose react if Ghost is super sick but is trying to still do his work? Would she go Mama Bear on him and force him to stay in bed while she took care of him? How would he react to someone being this attentive and caring to him while he is sick?

The problem is that Ghost is so used to toughing it out or taking care of himself that he will not tell Goose if he's sick. I think she'd know pretty quick though when he won't touch her because he doesn't wanna get her sick. No doctor Goose necessary, Momma Duck is one with the medical degree.

Simon is in the barn when you finally find him, he's been avoiding you since he left the house this morning and you're not really sure why. He's leaned against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed, you can see the movement of his chest with each breath he takes. That's probably not good. You run through your options and settle on not being mad until he explains what's wrong. You grab his dog tags, because you know he won't risk breaking them. He sighs hard.

"Not in the mood sweetheart," He tells you, his voice is thicker than usual, too rough and deep for this late in the day.

"What's wrong with you?" You cut straight to the point. Simon doesn't even flinch, just pushes off the wall to stare you down.

"Nothing is wrong with me," It's too defensive, you narrow your eyes at him. He's not wearing his mask, it must've been real fucking uncomfortable for him to take it off. His cheeks are flushed, but not in a sunburn kind of way. You tug his tags and he resists your pull. Doesn't matter you can reach from here.

You raise a hand and press it against his forehead. Simon flinches away. Stupid bastard.

"Does daddy know you're sick?" You ask, not feeling particularly kind for asking in the first place. He should've told you.

"Doesn't need to, it won't affect my work."

"Bullshit it's not," You don't bother letting go of his chain, leading Simon out of the barn and back across the grass to his little house, "It's 100 degrees out and you're runnin' a fever, you plannin' on faintin'? You get any redder and I'll enter you in a tomato contest, swear to God I'm gonna kill ya' for this."

"You get more Texan when you're mad," Simon helpfully supplies. You don't bother turning to glare at him, you think he can feel it. He holds the screen door for you while you angrily push the house door open, more cooperative than you thought he'd be. Probably fixing to run back to work as soon as you leave. As if you would.

You don't let go of Simon until you see him sit on the bed. Even then you stand and tap your foot until he sighs and lays down like it's the hardest thing in the world. You give him a short nod and go to the bathroom for a thermometer and some cold meds. He's sat up and yanking his boots off when you come back. At least that's something. You hold out the thermometer and he takes it, but doesn't move past that.

"Under your tongue genius," You tell him already tipping purple nyquil into the little plastic cap. He eyes the cold medicine suspiciously. You set the full cap and the open bottle on the bedside table, and pull your phone out. "Either I take your temperature or Momma does, and you don't want me callin' the doctor out here."

Simon sticks the thermometer under his tongue. You don't know what it is with military men being so scared of the doctor, but it's damn useful for getting your way. You both wait for the thing to beep, you're quick to snatch it before Simon can. You're pretty sure he'll lie to you about his fever. You suck in a breath staring at the temperature on the little screen. 101, not good, and probably not helped by the heat or working all day.

"Wasn't that bad this morning," Simon grumbles. You don't spare him your glare this time.

"You-" You actually don't have an end to that sentence that doesn't make it sound like you want to strangle him. You point at the nyquil cap instead. He takes it dutifully and downs it like a shot. "I'm callin' the doctor." You tell him, because you can't really punish him for being sick, but you don't have to reward him either.

"Do not call the doctor," He warns you.

"Fine," You relent, Simon relaxes a little, "I'll call daddy." The tension is immediately back.

"Goose," Oh he's serious calling you that, too bad you're serious too, already dialing up your dad, "I'm warning you, do not." You hold the phone to your ear with a hand on your hip and wait for your father to pick up.

You don't even wait for him to ask you why you're calling you start right into it. "Simon's sick and you've been workin' him all-" Simon makes a grab for your phone while you're talking, you give a quick shout and try to hold it out of his way. He may be bigger than you but that doesn't mean he's going to stop you. Simon grabs your arm and pulls it down, you have to put real strength into keeping your phone held aloft.

"I'm fine, you don't need to call," Simon grits out, going for the more effective tactic of simply grabbing you around the waist and bodily hauling you onto the bed.

"How are you still this strong when you've got a fucking fever," You yell, trying to claw away from him. Simon just drags you back and snatches your phone.

"All fine here, sir," He tells Price quickly, keeping you pinned down with a firm hand on your back and your legs between his. He hangs up before Price can say anything and tosses your phone onto the nightstand. "Can you be less of a bloody wife for ten fucking minutes," He growls at you.

"Can you be less of a fucking soldier?" You hook your legs behind his and push up to reverse your positions. You settle angrily on his lap, and flop back on top of him.

"Forgot you could do that," Is the only response you get, half mumbled as Simon drags a hand down his face.

"Could've had a lovely day of me playing housewife, but no, it's always gotta be the hard way with you," You grumble, you hope the nyquil knocks him out before you do. You feel yourself raise with Simon's intake of breath, and lower quickly as he sighs. His hands grab you and flip you onto your stomach, you make yourself comfortable on him. He feels warm even though his clothes, you frown and press your ear to his chest to listen to his heart beat.

"You like the hard way." You can feel the rumble of his voice against your cheek.

"Not for this," you mumble, "you should've told me you weren't feeling good."

"I know," Simon sighs again.

"You'd wanna know if I was sick," Simon hums in response, you think the cold meds might be kicking in. You reach up to pat his face, "Stay awake I'm not done nagging."

"The fuck did you drug me for then?" He settles a hand on your head, the other rubbing your back with slower and slower motions. You suppose that's fair. "I'll tell ya' next time, alright? Lemme sleep."

"Fine," You relent, even though you don't fully believe him. You sort of wish Simon was a big baby about being sick, but you're also sort of glad he isn't. You wait for him to fall asleep before you get up to see if there's any soup in his little kitchenette. You expect he'll be out for a few hours, which is plenty of time for you to worry over him. Plenty of time for you to call your dad and tell him Simon's taking a sick day tomorrow, and plenty of time for you to sit on the bed next to Simon and brush his hair out of his face. He's such a soldier sometimes.

As if you wouldn't want to take care of him in sickness and in health.

#simon ghost riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #oc: goose #cowboy!ghost #being sick means being vulnerable and being vulnerable is very hard #even if you're literally marrying this person #Get it together Ghost you're being stupid #Price is so mad at Ghost for working with a fever #He didn't need you out in the heat Ghost he's got Gaz #and Gaz is more than capable of cattle wrangling

[upsidedownwithsteve]

HELL YEAH BABY 🌤️

my request is grumpy!reader not liking summer because it's so hot, everybody is sweaty, bad sunburns, and thigh chafing from being forced out of wearing jeans due to the heat. maybe she overheats easily and can get irritated/snappy and starts to feel sick when she gets too hot

and, of course, sunshine!Steve (who is summer incarnate) doing everything to change her mind: taking care of her to try to help with the things she doesn't like, showing her fun things to do that make her comfortable, doing everything he can to make her at least a little bit happy that it's bright and sunny and warm, etc.

love you emmy you're so talented and your brain is so big and sexy ok bye

myo! summer steve for u 🧡

“Y’know, you’ll feel better if you get in.”

Steve was in the pool - his pool - the back yard quiet for once, empty of kids who liked to raid the freezer for popsicles and argue over the one sun lounger that didn’t have the dodgy wheel.

Your boyfriend was in the water, had been all morning, hair damp, skin slick, shoulders tanned and nose freckling. Steve was slumped over the pool edge, the sun making the ripples reflect off of his face, honey coloured eyes and last nights stubble. His lips were shiny, chlorine flavoured, chest smelling like sunscreen and the perfume you’d left on his bedsheets.

“I don’t wanna,” you lied. You were perched in the shade, lingering in the gloom of the patio awning with a frown on your face that was barely concealed by the sunglasses you’d stolen from the boy. “It’s too hot.”

You were borderline miserable and happy to wallow in it, the Indiana sun making your skin prickle under its heat, too hot for jeans, too uncomfortably sticky for anything that made your thighs touch. You sighed, mournful.

“Baby,” Steve was soft with the way he said it, a placating thing that you knew too well. If you looked over at him, you knew you’d find him pouting. He was. “The water’ll help cool you down, c’mon.” He extended a hand, dripping dots onto the tiles that dried too quick.

“There’s no shade in the pool,” you argued feebly, but you were up and walking towards him anyway, scowling when the patio had the audacity to burn your bare feet. “M’gonna die.”

Steve tutted, staving off a grin. “Dramatic,” he muttered, eyes on you as you played with the tie on your dress, staring at the blue water in consideration. “I won’t let you die, promise.”

You were still frowning.

Steve tried again, “c’mon, honey. I’m getting real lonely here. Come play.”

Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his biceps flexed when he lifted a hand to push back his hair, ropes of muscle down his forearms. Maybe it was just because the sun was so fucking hot.

You pulled off your dress, cotton catching on your damp skin, uncaring where it landed. Bikini already underneath, peach coloured and almost too small to be appropriate, you made your way to the stairs. Steve grinned, triumphant, treading water as he watched you walk around the pool edge. A low whistle, flirtatious enough that it made you warmer still.

“There she is,” he called out, salacious in his tone. He made his way towards you, meeting you by the steps, hands held out for you to wade into. “Can’t believe you were gonna try n’ hide all that from me. Traitor.”

The pool water was cool on your skin even if Steve was warm. Slick body, rough hands, hard muscle, soft skin; you let him manhandle you until you were wrapped around him, allowing him to carry you through the water without complaint.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, face buried in the crook of his neck, embarrassed by his flirting, even after all those years.

You weren’t frowning anymore.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot #steve baby blurb

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

and i believe (because i can see) | post-outbreak!joel x f!reader

prologue — where we find ourselves

He told him how he thought that dog was going to rip her to shreds, and the only thing he could do was stand frozen in place because he’s not the man he used to be, no longer a ruthless killer who could have taken anyone and anything down in his path—he needed Tommy to understand that part. He needed Tommy to know that the only piece left of the man he once knew was the weak, aching flesh and bones sitting in front of him. He was no more capable of taking care of Ellie than he was of Sarah, but he was staring at him as though he were lying.

[ WARNINGS/TAGS ] loss of a child, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy!joel, angst, eventual smut (minors DNI!!), slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, joel miller desperately needs a good therapist and an even better hug, no use of y/n, no physical description of or named reader, shifting pov (see individual parts for warnings per chapter. please let me know if i miss anything. if any of these tags are triggering/upsetting/harmful to your wellbeing in any way, please do NOT interact.)

Winter came suddenly.

The summer had seemed to eternally endure, the heat from the sun leaving you drenched in sweat and with a constant sunburn across the bridge of your nose. The long days of trudging through woods and down back roads left your body hopelessly sapped of all energy and grotesquely deprived of proper hydration. A thin sheen of sweat seemed to permanently coat your body, leaving you feeling sticky and terribly uncomfortable; you had no intentions of concealing your discomfort, opting instead for—as your traveling companion charmingly described—incessant bitching. You've always found peace in the swaying of treetops and the warmth of the sun on your cheeks, but this was extreme, even by your standards. Nevertheless, the everlasting summer faded, as it always does, into an autumn that seemed to only last for a week or two, much to your disappointment.

Fall was stunning; a magnificent sea of yellows, oranges, and reds decorated canopies of trees, eventually falling and littering the ground and making a satisfying crunch underfoot. But then, as it always does, the fleeting autumn gave way to the bitterness of winter. A piece of you thought it came faster this year, as if the Earth was beginning to realize how far back it had fallen and desperately hoped that it could speed along the passage of time to correct some kind of miscalculation—a foolish notion. Nevertheless, you soaked up the fleeting weeks of fall with gratitude before you soured over winter. The harsh weather nestled into your bones, stiffening your joints and drying your skin—your knuckles remained almost permanently cracked and split during winter, regardless of gloves or warm evening fires. Perhaps there was a morbid beauty to the desolation of it all or a metaphor that would bring you some form of understanding for the misery you've endured. 

For the moment, though, you were just freezing.

The small campfire you huddled in front of did little to warm your freezing body; the cold, having seeped well into your skin, stiffened your joints and tinted your fingernails with a purple-ish hue.

“Need to find you a new jacket.” Joel’s voice breaking through the silent night momentarily startled you. You looked at your coat with a huff and recalled the events from that same morning—your once warm, tastefully worn coat now decorated with a large tear down your left arm. Had it not been for the thick material shielding you from the maw of that Clicker, you would likely have already turned or been shot by him.

“Not before you get some new boots, old man.” You lazily motioned towards his shoes, raising an eyebrow as he began his nightly task of taping rubber to leather.

“Funny.” He clearly was not amused. “I’m serious. You're gonna freeze to death.”

“Well, if you can find one out here,” you gestured to the expansive forest surrounding you, “then be my guest.” He rolled his eyes at you, though with less disdain than he used to; if anything, it was affectionate. “You could share some of that whiskey if you don't want me so cold.” He passed the tarnished silver flask to you with another roll of his eyes, and you took a swig of the smokey, bitter liquid. It was far from high quality; in fact, it was hardly drinkable, but it succeeded in filling your gut with a fuzzy warmth that spread through your body after another sip.

You noticed Joel staring at Ellie with a fearful glint in his eyes as she stood atop a rather large boulder, staring at green lights illuminating the sky. He was about to say something; you could only guess it was going to be an attempt to get her back on the ground. “Give her another minute. Who knows when she'll see it again?" He paused, looking as though he still wanted to say something. You could practically feel the anxiety radiating from his body. You knew he would deny it until the bitter end, but he worried for Ellie as if she were his own child; however reluctantly their relationship started, he’s wrapped around her little fingers, even if he hadn’t caught onto the fact. A part of you wished he had developed similar affections for you, but Joel seemed to have come to only tolerate you. Sure, he was not half as surly or aggressive towards you as when you first met—you were shocked he did not kill you on the spot, considering your previous affiliations—and he would engage in lighthearted conversation, but you sensed an underlying disdain.

The longer you traveled with him, the more it made your heart ache.

This was not part of the plan.

A high-pitched whistle broke your thoughts, followed by his gruff command: “Come on down from there. You’re gonna break your neck.” Reluctantly and with a hefty sigh, Ellie made her way from the rock after sparing a final, unobscured glance at the sky.

The rest of the evening passed in mostly amusing conversation. You chose not to participate, though you intently listened. You saw how Joel tensed up when Ellie asked what they—no, he—would do after the cure; it was a question that, until less than a year ago, was wholly absurd and could never be answered. His answer was not surprising. You never expected Joel to be the kind of man with ambitions of settling down with someone, living in a big city, or pursuing anything more than a life of solitude. The sheep, however, made you giggle to yourself, and he shot you an unserious glare in response. You also saw the way Ellie’s face lit up as she talked about space and “Sally Fuckin’ Ride” and the moon and stars, and the sadness (or was that guilt?) in Joel’s eyes when the conversation inevitably shifted to the loss of Henry and Sam, and how Ellie seemed to somehow feel responsible. It wasn’t long after that that she decided it was time for bed. 

“Do you wanna take first watch or second?” 

Joel sighed. “I’ll do both.” 

“No, you won’t. I’ll take second.” You piped up. Something in Joel’s eyes told you he would not be waking you up for the second watch, a debate you would have to settle at a later date.

“Get some sleep. Dream of..." he trailed off for a moment. “Sheep ranches on the moon.”

/ / /

Joel, in fact, did not wake you up for second watch. Not because Joel himself took both first and second, but because he fell asleep less than three hours into the night. He awoke from a fitful sleep with a start, distress seeping into his bones as he realized the sun had risen, he was asleep, and he did not know where Ellie or you were. He shot awake, his eyes glazed over with panic as he looked to you, still asleep on the ground, and then to Ellie, who was standing watch with the rifle that was much too big for her in her hands. An overwhelming feeling of guilt accompanied the anxiety in his gut—try as he might, he never seemed to stop failing. 

“Still mumbling in your sleep.” She observed. “I woke up early. You guys were passed out, so I took second watch.”

Joel’s words were rushed, betraying his normally stoic demeanor. “You gotta wake me up if that happens.” He slowly stood up, the unavoidable ache in his lower back and knees seemingly worse that morning, perhaps from walking the last hundred or so miles, or maybe it was the rock that dug into his back during the night. “You can’t do things like this.” He said, gently nudging his companion’s still sleeping body on the ground with his foot; his poor back would not be tolerating him leaning down to wake you with a gentle grazing of his fingers or nudge of your shoulder. He chose to ignore the fact that he always felt afraid to touch you—not because he thought you were fragile, but rather because you made him feel as though he was. Your skin made his hands feel like he was electrified, on fire, or frozen in place, and sometimes it was all three. Sometimes, he wished he had left you back in Boston, and sometimes he wished he had found you twenty years ago; on more rare occasions, he wished he had met you thirty years ago—when he was still whole and he was still alive, Joel Miller and Sarah were still alive, and he would’ve seen you as you were meant to be. Those thoughts never lasted for long, but they made his stomach turn nonetheless. 

"Uh, I can. I just did.” Joel had grown very familiar with the sarcastic smile she flashed at him.

“I’m responsible for you.” “She is too; don’t see her complaining.” His gaze flitted back down to you, barely awake and wholly confused by the situation at hand.

Joel took the rifle from Ellie, who was attempting to explain her precautions as she stood watch. “You wake me up next time.” “Yes, sir.” She responded.

That day started the same as each one for the last eight—was it closer to ten?—months had: a grueling trek across wooden terrain in what Joel hoped was the right direction, consistent sarcastic quips from Ellie, and your soothing presence at his side. It was a normal day, a normal fucking day, and he was mostly on course again, and everything was normal, normal, normal, and for the life of him, Joel could not fathom how he managed to find himself sitting in a bar drinking whiskey from a glass with his little brother. There were the horses and the dogs, and the all-consuming fear that Ellie was going to die and that you were going to die too; the knowledge that you would be after Ellie, and you would be lucky if the only thing these people did was kill you. Then he was hugging his brother for the first time in years, and everything felt fuzzy, and his stomach ached worse than his knees.

“Thanks for still giving a shit about me.” As if he ever stopped thinking about him. As if he hadn’t spent nearly a year in search of him. As if he were not the last thing of his old life that he had left, and he wouldn’t fight for that until the bitter end. And then he was asking about Tess (she’s good, she's fine), and it felt like a punch to the gut, and he was asking about Ellie (she’s the daughter of some Firefly muckety-muck). (There's a payment.) He could no longer breathe, and then he asked about you, and he was at a loss for words. What could he possibly say to justify you? Sure, your previous affiliations are what initially convinced him to bring you along, but he could have easily gotten what little information you had without trekking across the country with you. He could have left you at Bill and Frank’s or in Kansas City or in a random spot in the woods early in the morning; he did not have to take you with him. There was nothing in it for him; there was nothing to gain except another mouth to feed and the knowledge that you could have killed him in his sleep at any time you pleased. 

And then Joel was seeing red because, how dare he say that? 

How dare Tommy expect him to be happy when he was being handed the very thing that destroyed his life? He was there. He watched his niece scream and cry and bleed out as he pleaded for help; he was there after he tried to follow her into the unknown, and he was the one to clean the wound on his temple. He was there for it all, and then he left. How dare he sit back with his comfortable life, his house, and his family after Joel had lost everything? How could he sit there and judge him after he compromised every moral he thought he held near and dear to keep him alive? Sarah’s blood had not been washed from his hands before he committed what little was left of him to keeping his little brother safe. How dare Tommy find the life that Joel lost?

 He stormed out of the bar with that same goddamn feeling in his heart, and he thought he was going to die there for a moment—he had to have, at least for a second, because Sarah looked so real in that moment. The rest of that day passed in a blur. Joel found himself sitting in an old shed, the smell of wood and tools flooding his senses as he grew frustrated, fruitlessly trying to repair his tattered shoes.

 “The guys said I might find you here.” Somehow, seeing his face again, Joel could not bring himself to continue to stoke his anger towards his little brother, however fixed the scowl on his face was. “Figured you could use these.” An awkward silence filled the room from his lack of response, but what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to tell Tommy, his brother, that he almost hated him for finding a better life without him in it? “I shouldn’t have said what I said... I don’t even believe it. I know you’re happy for me; it's just—it’s complicated for you. I’m sorry.”

 In that moment, Joel did what he had always done best and ignored it. “This ride to the university—is it a suicide mission?”

 “No. It’s dangerous, but it’s nothin’ you can’t handle. Just prepare and do what you do.” He said it as if he were not a shadow of what he used to be. As if he did not freeze when Ellie was in danger, and he didn’t fall asleep on watch, and his hands were still strong, his back didn’t ache, and he wasn’t holding back a torrent of tears.

 “You’ve had people go that way and come back?”

“All of ‘em.” He has said too much, “What is this?” And god, how was he supposed to hold this any longer? Where was he supposed to sit the last eight months down—or was it nine?—if not with him, that would not leave a path of destruction behind him. Tess, and Ellie, and the Fireflies, and Bill and Frank, and Henry and Sam, and Kansas City, and you? It was swallowing him whole, ripping him open from the inside; it was so heavy and he was so weak, more sorrow than man, and he could no longer bear the weight on his own.

 “She’s immune.”

 “What?” 

“Ellie. She got infected, but she didn’t get sick.” He looked like he was ready to chase the girl down and put a bullet between her eyes. “Tommy. Tommy, I saw her get bit myself. That was months ago. Months. She’s immune.”

 “From the beginning.” And he did. He told Tommy everything—about Tess; about Marlene and the Fireflies and how Tess made him swear to take her; about Kansas City and how Ellie saved his life; and Henry and Sam and how someone else had to save Ellie’s life because he could hardly hear out of his right ear and how desolate Henry’s eyes were after he shot his little brother (he overlooked how Ellie’s scream felt like a knife in his gut). He told him how he thought that dog was going to rip her to shreds, and the only thing he could do was stand frozen in place because he’s not the man he used to be, no longer a ruthless killer who could have taken anyone and anything down in his path—he needed Tommy to understand that part. He needed Tommy to know that the only piece left of the man he once knew was the weak, aching flesh and bones sitting in front of him. He was no more capable of taking care of Ellie than he was of Sarah, but he was staring at him as though he were lying.

“I was so afraid.” Joel could not hear himself speaking anymore. He knew the words were leaving his lips—he could see Tommy react to the syllables as the sound waves traveled through the air and to his ears, but he could not hear them. The ringing in his ears had never been so loud. “You think I can still handle things, but I’m not who I was.” A single crack in his voice. “I’m weak.” And god, he still looked at him like he wanted to argue against the points he so clearly laid out. “Lately, there are these moments when the fear comes up outta nowhere and my heart… feels like it's stopped…

“And I have dreams. Every night." 

“What kinda dreams?" 

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Another crack in his voice. Another reminder that he is incapable. “I just know that when I wake up, I’ve lost somethin’.” Tears began to fall down his cheeks. “I’m failin’ in my sleep. That’s all I do. It’s all I’ve ever done is fail them again and again and again.” Them?

“You want me to take her.”

“I’m just gonna get her killed. I know it. I have to leave her.”

“And what about her?” Joel’s heart truly stopped at the mention of you. “You still haven’t said a damn word about her or why she’s with you. Who is she?” He took in a shaky breath. He knew that Tommy would ask about you; he had sent a silent prayer that he would gloss over you. He could not bear to face the truth about you.

“What about her?” Denial was always his closest friend, but it seemed determined to betray him. 

“Joel.” He wanted to seem indifferent; he wanted to lie, but the truth came spilling out of his mouth the same way hot tears streamed down his weathered cheeks. It did not ask for permission—it took whatever it wanted from Joel. The truth wanted everything from him this time; it begged to be free from its shackles. What was he supposed to say about you? How could he justify this? How could he explain that you had completely bewitched him without him having ever known until it was too late? How could he tell Tommy everything without admitting a truth he had tried so desperately to ignore?

“C’mon. From the beginning.”

[a/n: buckle up we're gonna be breaking hearts here]

MASTERLIST // AO3

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #ellie williams #joel miller x female reader #ellie the last of us #joel tlou