#kali writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaotic-iguana · 9 months

Note

how about a five where Javi rejects the reader, so the reader like gets really sad, but one day Javi hears she is going on a date (is not true, Murphy made it up) and he rushed to her apartment and confesses and reader is like ?? What are you talking about, super angsty but super fluffy? Pleaseeee

Out of time | javier peña x f! reader

summary: javi rejects reader. repents like the idiot he is. (i love him) he is a FOOL in love. fight me.

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: rejection, angst and fluff, hurt and comfort basically, happy ending.

A/N: i got you, anon. this promt is the perfect apology for the last one. repentance fr. love u ALL. let me know what you think. also nothing against “hippies” just giving murphy pov. i do however as an indian have a bone to pick with fake white yoga gurus. it’s gotta be appropriation.

masterlist

Javi had never been heartless before. Never been cruel before. Now, as you pointedly hunched over your desk in an effort to ignore the chortles and cheap jokes that kept sounding from the men crowded around his desk as they all stood around a nameless note someone -you- had slipped onto his desk.

He laughed boisterously with them, before crumpling the paper in his fist and dropping it into the bin next to his chair. You refused to so much as raise your head and look his way, feeling the crushing wave of heartbreak sweeping through you. It wasn’t until you felt a tear on your cheek that you realised that you had started crying, and so you muttered an excuse about getting some coffee before rushing to the bathroom and sobbing in a closed stall. So much for Valentine’s day.

It wasn’t until the end of the day, when you saw him walking your way in the parking lot, that you met his eyes. And you could see, with the set of his jaw; the arch of his brows, that he knew. Before you could scramble into your car, he was yelling after you.

“Is your new hobby being extended to everyone or did I win the lucky draw? Cute note.”

Oh, that bastard.

You scoffed, looking him straight in the eye. “Call it a moment of weakness, Peña. Thought I felt something for you, and it was Valentine’s day. Pretty sure all I feel now is rage, you asshole.”

A laugh from him. “Don’t be like that, hermosa. Let me know if you feel something between your legs for me, alright?”

Scowling, you turned from him and got into your car. You could have sworn he looked like a kicked puppy as you pulled out of the parking. These past few weeks, you had caught him looking at you more often. Finding excuses to touch you more often, too. A hand on your back, fingers accidentally grazing yours, his knee pressed against your thigh in Murphy’s backseat. Fucking idiot. You didn’t even know if you were madder at him or yourself. You know him. All of fucking Bogota knows him. God knows how you were foolish enough to think he felt anything except for between his legs.

A few months go by, excruciatingly slowly. It’s as if time itself has decided to fuck with you. You miss his gaze on you, his hands, his smile, him. You’ve been avoiding him like the plague. Stopped looking at him even when he was in the same room, hardly spoke to him even if it was in the middle of a raid, declined Connie’s many many invitations to parties you knew he’d be at. It was just easier to pretend that February the 14th had been a completely normal day. You’re just tired of all of it. It would have been easier not to have said anything at all.

What you were completely unaware of, however, was that you had a sneaky little shit for a partner. The fact that he had clocked what was going on immediately was completely unbeknownst to you. Both of you pining silently with what Steve dubbed “moony heart eyes”, the radio silence, and the fact that you had stopped talking to Connie just so you didn’t have to show up to her parties? Something had gone wrong. Initially, Steve thought that maybe Javi had made an unwanted move on you - and had damn near scuffed him to death - until he saw Javi’s eyes the next day. Haunted. It seemed that you had managed to take more out of the man than Escobar had. But you weren’t faring much better, either. Irritated and tired and grumbly all the time, refusing to so much as look in Javi’s direction. But you both were pretty much just staying out of each other’s ways, not causing any trouble, so he let it go. For now.

But then Steve and Javi had to chase a lead down together, and Javi introduced him to an informant who - with a little imagination - looked like your spitting image. The same hair, terrifying similar voice, and a lopsided grin, just like yours. And it clicked. The day that had started it all, and the “anonymous” note Javi had gotten. The idiocy with which you both had handled the situation made him want to run unarmed into a sicario’s den, but he came up with another idea instead.

Just before a weekend he knew on good authority that you had no plans except for lounging in bed, he started nudging and hinting to Javi the randomest shit about you. Just to reignite the interest. Almost like, you know - bait.

“Man, her hair looks good. I wonder if she got it done?”

“Hey Peña, d’ya reckon that’s a new skirt? Connie’d kill me if I didn’t ask where from”

“Javi - look - she got her nails done. Before an op? Doesn’t that get a bit…impractical? Hey, I’m jus’ asking.”

Each time, Steve was met with an irritated eyeroll, scoff, or just flat-out ignored. But around midnight on Friday, he ‘bust out the big guns’, so to speak, making an offhanded comment while jutting his chin out in the direction of your chair.

“Good thing she left early. Never woulda made it to the date tomorrow mornin’ otherwise.”

Which, instead of being met with the usual options, was met with Javi’s brain almost short circuiting. The sight of his friend, gaping like a fish as his eyes practically bulged out of his head while he stammered out the easiest one-syllable word in the English language is one Steve can never forget. Or let Javi forget, either.

“W-wha-what?”

And so, like the most devious matchmaker on the planet, Steve proceeded to make up some utter bullshit about a boy he’d supposedly seen you around with, one that had apparently asked you out tonight to meet him for ‘brunch’ tomorrow. Just to fuck with Javi, he made the guy from LA, and a tourist. And white. And the kinda hippie who did yoga and spoke about his newly-discovered chakras all the time.

Javier could feel the blind panic clawing at his chest, his heart threatening to burst. He didn’t know exactly why, but he had hated every single second you hadn’t spoken to him. Laughed at his jokes. Flashed him your smile, even the sarcastic one. He missed your quips and the way you groaned and swore at him when he pissed you off. He’d convinced himself he could live with that. But this? A date with some idiot he knew wouldn’t treat you right? He couldn’t understand his own feelings compelling him to pack up in a frenzy, ignore Steve’s pointed laugh, scramble into his car and drive straight to your apartment. He didn’t even stop to smooth his hair back, or fix the wrinkles in his shirt from slumping in it all day. No, all that mattered to him in that moment was you. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why he felt the way he did. He’d just been under the illusion that ignoring it would make it go away, but it hadn’t. He had to fix this now.

Standing on your doorstep, Javi blinked for a second while marveling at how fast that drive had been - he’d barely registered doing anything since he heard the word date come out of Steve’s mouth. Hesitation clamped a hand over his mouth, his body, and he stood frozen, unsure of whether to knock or just turn around. But if not now, never, right? And who knew how long he would live? Wasn’t this a time he should be getting what he wants, spending time with the people he…loves?

Before he could overthink himself out of doing it, Javi raised his fist and rapped it against your door, twice. And when you opened the door, rubbing your eyes and standing there in your sleep shorts and an oversized shirt, it took a second for his brain to catch up. It wasn’t until you were squinting at him, then stumbling over nothing as your eyes widened that he realised where he was. The hurt on your face in the split second before you moved to close the door had him jamming his foot in the doorframe.

“Just hear me out, hermosa. I promise if you want me to fuck off after that, I will.”

After waiting for you to nod and open your door wordlessly, he stalked after you, further into your apartment, stunned by how homely it was. The walls had pictures of you and other people laughing, of art and paintings and sketches that seemed to all have been done by the same person; the sofa was a rich brown leather and the fluffy throw on it just a shade lighter. Everything was carefully coordinated, in color and texture, and he couldn’t help but note the contrast. Some of his stuff was still in boxes. He’d been in Colombia for longer than you, and his stuff was still in boxes. The difference was laughable.

But when he heard a sniffle from ahead, he found himself walking faster - practically walking into you - before he was planting his hands on your shoulders to turn you around to him, and then gripping the sides of your arms as if they were his salvation. His eyes searched yours, and the heartbreak he found as you tried to look away threatened to make his knees buckle. So he hooked an index finger under your chin to tilt your head up to him, resting his forehead against yours. Moving his thumb to smooth out the furrow in your brow, he huffed at the stubborn frown that refused to budge.

“I am sorry. I truly am. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to react. I want you, and I did then, too. But I just…didn’t think it was real. I swear I thought you were joking at first. It’s why I let the guys see. Then I saw you in the parking lot, and you were actually sad, and I just panicked. I just don’t think I was ready back then. But I swear to God, I can’t bear another six months of the cold shoulder. I love you, you know. I’ve just been too much of an idiot to realise it.”

For a whole minute, you just stare at him unblinkingly. Then, suddenly, your face crumples, limbs slackening in his grip. He holds you through it, letting you sob into his chest as he coos reassurances and apologies to you until you pull back from his embrace to look at him questioningly once more.

“Why now?” Your words make Javi smile, and he cocks a brow at you.

“You really thought I’d let that idiot take you out before I told you how I feel?”

You look even more confused now, which is confusing him in turn.

“Wait, what idiot?” There’s no twinkle in your eye - no smirk tugging at your lips. Not a joke.

“The one who…asked you out?” Javi cocks his head at you, watching your frown deepen.

“Who?” The absolute befuddlement on your face is on the verge of making him snigger, and he feels his lips twitching already.

“The-does Murphy know? That you weren’t busy tonight?” His overworked mind supplies the answer to him, and he has never more in his life wanted to punch and hug his other partner simultaneously.

“Oh, yeah. He asked cause Connie wanted to know if she could come over? I guess she must have gotten caught- oh. Oh.” Javi gives you a moment to reach the same conclusion he did, and both of you end up bursting out in laughter at the same time.

But Steve was the one with the biggest grin when, come Monday morning, a bottle of premium whiskey and a brand new watch sat on his desk with a little note:

Well played, motherfucker.

What is it they say about couples adopting each other’s habits when they get into a relationship? Javi’d picked up your so-called hobbies within a weekend.

You ended up spending enough time with each other to pick up everything else, too. Call it cliché, but atleast you weren’t boring. Or, you know, going on dates with imaginary guys that existed only in Steve’s extremely limited imagination. Win-win.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore,@millerscoffee, @ nostalxgic, @sscorpiiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk dividers by @reveriesources

493 notes · View notes

meantforinfinitesadness · 7 months

Text

Carbon Frozen Obi-Wan AU

Okay! So, the first read more is going to have like all the thinky thoughts that I had whilst building the au itself. So there won't be any dialogue or anything like that. Also, this was taken from discord so it's probably gonna look weird

Oh, @foreverchangingfandomsao3 and @des8pudels8kern (because I thought you would like to know this was happening) here's the first bit

I'm thinking about an Obi-Wan that was put in Carbonite during the war for some reason. Whether that was because he didn't unthaw during The Citadel arc or for another reason. Either way, he's in Carbonite and has been stuck in there for years. years. as in, post-order 66. as in Rebel era.

I'm sure you can see where this was going

I think for sure he was frozen during the war so he knew Cody. I just don't know if they had fallen in love by then or not. Part of me says nah because then I can do this whole thing

ANYWAY

Obi-Wan is found by rebels somehow. somewhere. They find him and they're like "oh shit that's a jedi!" because while the Jedi had been killed, there were some that remember them. Some that know what they kind of looked like

So, they take him back to their base. and they're like "we gotta get this guy out" and they don't know how long he's been in there or anything like that. Cody's there when they bring him in and he's like "holy shit that's my General" and all the rebels are like "huh??" and Cody tells them who that is and it's basically

from the rebels

and Cody's like "yeah, we need to get him out of there." so the rebels are working hard to get him out and it turns out the controls were busted but it's okay! they can fix that!

and they do

and what do they get? They get a very Carbon sick Obi-Wan collapsing out of the carbonite. Cody catches him, obviously. And Obi-Wan can't see anything, but he's terrified because "why is it so quiet? why does it hurt? why is it screaming?" and everyone's like "who? what? what's screaming?" and Obi-Wan, because he's dramatic like that, manages to say "The Force," before passing out in Cody's arms

Cody's obviously in shock that his General is alive and here and he's (mostly) okay. He never knew what happened to the carbonite he was trapped in (or, if I go a different way, he never knew what happened to his General at all) and it's all a bit strange right now for him as well. He kind of zones out as he processes everything and vaguely remembers some of the rebels taking Obi-Wan from him and hauling him off to their medical station. Cody just sort of...sits there in front of the now empty Carbonite...container....thing....and takes a while to come back to himself. When he does, he rushes up and races to where Obi-Wan. Obviously, the medics there don't want him to to disturb Obi-Wan, but Cody's like "please, I need to know this is real. I need to see him" because to him, this is all sort of feeling like a fever dream (it's feeling like his mind is making this all up while he's still under the control of the chip).

He's reluctantly allowed to see the unconscious Jedi and Cody stumbles to his bedside and collapses into a chair next to him because "holy shit my General is alive."

#carbon frozen obi wan au #kali writes

37 notes · View notes

imonabitchparade · 11 months

Text

Uh oh

I might

Do a thing

#kali writes #maybe #original story?#no promises but I really wanna do it #we shall see if my brain lets me #how did this come from me reading Cal Kestis fics?

2 notes · View notes

reveniemus · 2 years

Text

i wrote stranger things fic! bc it has taken over my brain!

#kali writes #stranger things #st fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie

2 notes · View notes

kalinjdra · 11 months

Text

wip wesnesday

izuku doesn't know it but tonight is the night his life changes. for better or worse, is really a matter of view but then again, thats how most people feel about parenting.

izuku had dressed up for this occasion, as much as his broke college student savings would allow.

he put on his tightest pair of jeans, the type that are too tight for regular use so they lay in the back of your closet until you find them again when you're looking for your clubbing outfit. his ass looks phenomenal in it. he's wearing a fancy green blouse, embroidered with ivy and flowers. the sleeves are sheer with delicate vines trailing up and the top has a deep cut with vibrant flowers sewn onto the collar, calling attention to the pale skin of his chest. izuku has done his full hair routine today, curls fully coiled and bouncy, not frazzled and tied up in a bun.

he leans over the sink, brushing gold glitter onto the green eyeshadow lining his eyes and nose. it's like one huge green bruise marring his face, different colors of shiny highlighter reflecting the light. it doesn't make his eyes pop but he thinks it really sells the look.

hoshiko knocks on the door, peeping in. "all ready to go?" "yep," izuku shoots her a bright, wobbly smile. "how do i look?" "like a paintbomb went off!" she grins, "really sells the forest spirit look though!"

#yes i write entirely in all lower caps #triple trouble #kali writes #kalinjdra

0 notes

bastardmandennis · 7 months

Text

wet dream

(business man! joel x f reader) | AO3 | masterlist

Summary: You have a wet dream about your sort-of boss, Joel Miller, and then get stuck in an elevator with him.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT (literally get out of here if you’re not 18+), afab reader, no y/n, some plot mostly porn, wet dreams, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, implied age gap, business man joel!, mentions of general workplace misogyny/incompetence (not from joel obvi), traffic, elevators, semi public sex, grinding, 1/4 of a blow job, don't read if ur claustrophobic probably, i think that's it but if i missed something pls let me know!

A/N: had to take a break from writing good dad joel™️ for some dream joel businessman smut©️. not even sorry xo

graphic made by the amazing @idolatrybarbie - thank you! ❤️

Warm, big hands wrap around your thighs, opening them wider so he can kneel in front of you, broad shoulders keeping you open for him. You pant, scratching at the sheets as he bites and kisses his way between your legs, avoiding where you want him most. The scratch of his facial hair feels so good, and you tell him, reaching a hand to try and grab at his hair. His hands run up your thighs, snapping the waistband of your panties,, and right as you think how much you need them off now, they’re gone, the air cool against your exposed skin. He grins against the skin of your stomach, nipping and soothing with his tongue until you’re arching to get closer, more more more, and he chuckles, a low thing that vibrates through your body.

His broad palm comes across your lower stomach, pressing and keeping you in place. Settle, honey, gonna give you what you want, don’t worry, he coos when you whine, gripping his hair and pulling. He pulls back slightly to stare at the slick pooling beneath you, on your thighs, on the sheets below you, and he tsks, running a finger up to collect it, watching the way it shines on his fingers. You close your eyes, embarrassed at the attention, and they fly open when he uses that finger to rub circles on your clit. Oh fuck, f- please, you choke out, and it’s like he reads your mind, pulling back to press two fingers gently into you, scissoring, opening you up beneath him. He leans even closer, breath fanning against you, never stopping the pumping of his fingers, searching for the spot that makes you cry out, nails scratching at him when he finds it and aims there. That feels good, doesn’t it, so fucking tight for me, gonna ruin you for every other man–’s that what you want, sweetheart, want me to open you up with my fingers or do you want somethin’ else? Gonna let me fuck you, stretch you out on this cock? His voice is low, rough, familiar, but the thought fades as he curls his fingers up, the hand holding you down pushing until the pressure is too much and you want to tell him but you can’t move, can’t speak as he brushes his thumb lightly across your clit, not enough to do anything but be a tease, but it’s enough, you’re almost there and he says yeah that’s it, go on honey, come all over me, and you lift his head up by the hair, wanting to see his face when you finally let go–

It’s Joel Miller. As in, your boss.

Your eyes fly open, breath catching in your throat as you blink, trying to make sense of what just happened. The throbbing between your legs, the wetness in your sleep shorts, that’s real but–all for…Joel? Oh god–you didn’t even think you liked Joel like that, not that he’s not good looking or anything, but you’d never had a longer conversation with him than a quick good morning in the elevator, or his polite thank you, darlin’, as you handed out copies of reports and expenses during your weekly meetings, the ones when he came down from his office on the floor above to listen in silence as your manager attempted to justify whatever was going on within the department. Just his presence alone was enough to make them sweat–you looked forward to it every week. You scramble for your phone, cursing when you notice the time–five minutes to get ready and out of the house or your boss would have a conniption. The man was incompetent on a good day, but without you to guide him–aka, do everything possible for him–nothing would get done. Ignoring the unsatisfied swirl of want you shower and dress quickly, grabbing an apple as you rush out of the door.

The one day you’re running late, of course, is the day everyone must decide they’ve forgotten how to drive or something, the stop-and-go of the morning traffic doing nothing to help the headache brewing behind your temples, a combination of stress and a lack of sleep. You keep one eye on the time ticking by and by the time you get off your exit you’ve got exactly three minutes to park, make it into the building and up to the twenty-sixth floor before anyone notices you’re not there. There’s a mishap with your pass when you finally make it inside, a combination of you swiping it too fast and a worn magnetic strip, and by the time you get through security the rest of the elevators are packed full, each door closing right as you run up, and right when you’re about to have a breakdown and consider climbing the insane amount of stairs, a hand reaches out from inside an elevator down the hall to stop the doors from closing. You rush over, sliding into the empty car with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much,” you say, only slightly breathless from the run to the building. “Thought I was gonna be late, you really saved me.”

“You goin’ up, darlin?” A low voice, one that you immediately recognize–

That feels good, doesn’t it, so fucking tight for me, gonna ruin you for every other man.

Joel. As if the universe didn’t hate you enough.

He’s still waiting, a hand poised over the panel of buttons as he quirks an eyebrow at you. You realize you’re staring at him and look away quickly, telling him your floor number. The doors close as the hum of machinery fills the elevator car. You can’t help but look at him out of the corner of your eye–the scruff covering his jaw, hair wet and slicked back like he’d just showered. His button-up stretches tight across his shoulders, the top one undone, and the little peek of tanned skin underneath has your mouth watering. You’re being a creep, get it together.

“You’re on twenty-six, that’s advertising, right? Anderson’s team?” He crosses his arms across his chest and you drag your gaze up, nodding, not trusting your voice around him. He hums thoughtfully.

“Quiet little thing, ain’t ya,” he murmurs. The heat of his gaze is too much and you look away–all you can see when you look at him is the Joel from your dream, who’d teased you and talked to you in a low voice just like this one, and that just reminds you how unsatisfied you still are.

“I’m not–not really part of his team. Just a secretary,” you say, and you want to slap yourself when he looks back up at you. His eyes are dark as he searches your face.

He opens his mouth to say something and a loud screeching interrupts him. There’s a mechanical grinding noise, overwhelmingly loud in the small space, and you cover your ears with a wince. The elevator comes to a jolting stop and you feel Joel’s hand wrap around your wrist when you stumble. You hope he can’t feel the pulse beating erratically in your wrist, or that he just assumes it’s from being scared, not from him and his proximity.

The lights flicker once, twice, before going out completely, plunging you in darkness. You whimper at the sudden loss of sight and he smooths his thumb over your wrist. The emergency lights come on, bathing the small room in a red light.

“You okay?” he asks. You nod, and flush when you realize he probably can’t see the gesture.

“I think so,” you say. “Are you okay?”

You can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. He still hasn’t let go of your wrist. “’M fine darlin’, don’t worry about me. Gonna call for help, they’ll get us out of here in no time. Happens all the time, old buildings like this.”

He fumbles for the emergency phone, lifting it up and pressing the button to call for help. As he waits for someone on the other end to pick up your eyes adjust to the low light and you look at his profile, the way the shadows dance across his face as he shifts, jaw clenching as he speaks lowly to someone, presumably maintenance, and you jump when he slams the phone back down.

His thumb smooths across your wrist in apology. “Gonna be a while. Something about the circuit breaker tripping–whole building lost power for a second.”

You groan, shifting out of his grip to slide down against the wall until you’re sitting on the tiled floor. You scrunch your knees up to your chest and hide your face, trying to calm down. You’ve been wound up all morning from the dream, being late, and now this?

“I’m so fired,” you whisper into the fabric of your dress. It’s quiet, the distant mechanical whirring of the nearby elevators echoing in the silence. After a moment Joel slumps next to you with a low grunt. His hand hovers over your bent form and then he drapes his arm across your shoulders with a light squeeze. The heat of his hand, his arm, leeches through your thin cardigan and you can’t help the shudder that rolls through you.

“Hey,” he husks. “You’re not fired, hear me? Just an accident–could’ve happened to anyone.”

“You don’t know Anderson,” you say. “He’s been looking for any excuse to- to get rid of me, told me as much after last week’s meeting.”

He scoffs. “He’s a dick. Don’t worry about him. We’re not gettin’ rid of you that easy, honey.” He nudges your shoulder with his, a smile pulling at his lips when you give him a weak one in return.

Honey–that’s what he’d called you, in your dream. And holy fuck did it sound so much better in real life, when you’re so close you can hear the way his voice drops an octave in the small space, how intimate it feels to have him next to you. Just the memory has you leaning away, all too aware of the way your dress has ridden up your thighs, his thick leg pressed against yours, and his arm drops from your shoulder. You miss the warmth almost immediately.

“Thanks Joel,” you say quietly. It’s easy to be brave in the dark, which is why you find yourself asking, “Can I tell you something?”

There’s just enough light to let you see his head tip down towards yours, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, lets out a low mhm.

“Those other guys, they’re always…well, they’re not the nicest. And I work with them every day, getting them coffee, copying reports, fixing their mistakes, and what do I get for it? Nothing. They don’t even remember my name, half the time. Unless they want to yell at me.” you sigh and he covers your hand with his own, smoothing down your scrunched up fingers as you continue talking.

“But you…I remember the first day I met you, and you made a point to remember my name, to thank me for helping out and I just–I wish it was you that I could’ve been working for this whole time.” He doesn’t say anything and your face heats, body tensing. Now you’ve gone too far, he’s gonna report this back to your manager and then you’ll for sure get fired.

When he finally speaks his voice is low, considerate, an undercurrent of anger leaking through. “Not right, how they’re treatin’ you. Tell ’em that every time. I fuckin’- I even put in a transfer request for ya last week.”

He’s already looking down at you when you meet his eyes, bringing your combined hands up to rub the back of your hand against his cheek. The low scritch of your skin against his beard does nothing to calm your racing pulse.

One moment you’re looking at him in the half-lit elevator and the next your mouth is on his, or his is on yours, you can’t tell who moves first and you don’t really care. His lips are soft and his mustache tickles, and when you open your mouth in a gasp he moves his tongue along yours carefully, deliberately, nothing like the sloppy makeouts you were used to from guys your age. The angle is awkward and when he finally breaks away you’re both panting, loud breaths that echo in the elevator and he sits back, gesturing for you to move to sit on top of him. You hesitate, maybe for too long, because he grabs you by the backs of your thighs and yanks you forward, until you’re chest to chest, knees spread out around the bulk of his thighs.

“This okay, honey?” he gruffs, and oh there’s that word again, honey, and a low whine forces its way up your throat as you nod eagerly. His hands wander around your body with ease, pushing your sweater off your shoulders to kiss the side of your neck, bruising the delicate skin with a nip that sends your body forward into him as he chuckles.

“You like that,” he says, and it’s not a question but you nod anyway, moving your hands up to rake through his perfectly gelled hair, messing up the once perfect hairstyle. Your hips rock subtly over his and he groans, gripping the sides of your cheeks to bring you into another kiss, a rough smash of open mouths, head spinning from the lack of oxygen.

“Joel, please, wanna see you,” you whimper, letting your hands trail from his neck to his dress shirt, rumpled from your hands as you fumble to open the buttons. His hands come up to grip yours, pulling them away with ease despite your protest. Whatever you were about to say dies in your throat as he bends his knees up, sliding you closer until you’re sitting right where he’s hard and thick for you, twin groans falling from the both of you at the contact.

“What d’you want? Not much time here, not as much as I’d, ngh, like–gonna let me- let me open you up with my fingers? Or you want my tongue, right here in this elevator, right where fuck- right where anyone could walk in? Think they’re watchin’ the cameras, wanna give ’em a show honey?” He keeps going, that low drawl in your ear as you roll your hips over his, grinding slowly as he plants his feet down, thrusts up into you, letting you feel the thickness of him even through his pants, your thin underwear. It’s so much like your dream that the feeling of deja vu smacks you in the face and you freeze, just for a second, but enough for him to notice.

“What happened, you okay? Do you not want to- it’s okay if this is too much–” you lean forward to bite at the hint of collarbone peeking out of his shirt, running your tongue over the mark as he groans low in his chest, rumbling through you.

“It’s just- this is so embarrassing, but I, I had a…dream, um just like this. This morning.” You hide your face in his shoulder, feeling them move as he laughs, lifting your chin with a finger to force you to look at him.

“Yeah? How much you give the guy downstairs to stop the elevator for ya, to make your dream come true today?” he teases, rubbing a thumb against the flush on your cheekbone when you smile and push his shoulder lightly, mumbling a low shut up as he laughs.

You sit up to look at him, and the added pressure has you gasping around the sudden throbbing of your clit, and his eyes go dark, grasping your hips tightly as he moves you back and forth, like that? he murmurs and when you moan, he bucks up, watching the way your breasts threaten to spill out of the top of your dress with every movement.

“Can you- your f-fingers, please,” is all you can say, and he presses two of his thick fingers to the corner of your mouth, a low open up for me that has you clenching around nothing as he presses them on your tongue, then further, letting your spit run down his wrist until you gag lightly and he pulls back, smearing your own spit on your jaw as he pulls you into another kiss. He rucks your dress up impatiently, letting you both see your tiny panties that are soaked.

“This for me?” he murmurs. You nod, yes joel all for you just for you and he groans, letting his spit soaked fingers slide down until they’re playing with the elastic of your underwear, snapping them back when you move, patience, honey, gonna take care of you as he finally slips his fingers down, letting his middle finger feel the slick pooled there, smearing on the insides of your thighs (and definitely his pants), just rubbing the outside to feel you clench around nothing until you say please please please and he shushes you, slowly pressing two fingers in as you gasp–his fingers are so much thicker than yours, so filling it’s overwhelming, and you lean back just to admire the scene in front of you: your swollen pussy leaking all over both of you, the back and forth of Joel’s fingers disappearing inside of you, the shlick slick shlick as he moves, the way the heel of his palm bumps your clit with each thrust, arm flexing beneath his button up. You have to close your eyes, tilting your head back and he tsks.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, watch me stretch you out ‘n fill you up. This what you were dreamin’ about, lettin’ me fuck you here, bein’ such a good girl just for me, ain’t that right?” You hum, too focused on chasing the pleasure that’s been building since you got in the elevator with him, since you woke up from that goddamn dream but this–this is even better than anything you could’ve possibly dreamed, the heat of his body under yours, the little noises he makes as he marks the side of your neck, the thick heat of his cock under you and it’s too much–too much, gonna come joel, and he grinds his fingers into you, letting his hand rub against your clit and he says can feel you suckin’ me in, ’s okay honey, i’m here go ahead, and that–the permission–sends you over the edge, soaking his hand and his pants as you come down slowly, his fingers just resting in you, in no rush to move as he presses tiny quick kisses over your face, your cheeks, the tops of your breasts as you gasp for breath.

“Wow,” you finally say.

He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“And then some,” you say shyly. “Can I- can I touch you?” You let your hand trail down to the button of his pants, waiting for permission.

His groan is low, as if he’d forgotten all about how hard he was until now, a fuck yes, go ahead tumbling from his lips as you unbutton his dress pants quickly, reaching a hand in under his briefs to grasp the heft of him. He’s big, thick and leaking an extreme amount of precome and he grunts when you grab him, throbbing in your hand at the simple touch. It makes your head spin, the way he’s so affected just from touching you.

“Not gonna- shit, last so just–here,” he grabs your hand out of his pants, licking to wet your palm and shoving it back down, the slide smoother now as he thrusts up into the circle of your hand and you lean into him, scratching your nails through the stubble under his jaw and his head drops back against the wall with a low thunk. “Where do you want it?” he grits, and you can feel him pulse in your hand when you say my mouth, want you in my mouth, and he replaces your hand with his own, moving faster as you slide back until your mouth is hovering over him, sticky tip catching your cheek as he jerks himself roughly, a smear of precome that’s visible even in the low light and he stutters, groaning as you lean forward to cover his tip with your open mouth, pulsing into your mouth for what seems like forever, pulling back with a hiss when you keep sucking.

“Fuck,” he says, watching as you tuck him gently back into his pants, smoothing your dress back over your thighs. His shirt is a lost cause, wrinkled beyond hope from your hands and being on the floor but you do your best to fix it for him, lingering on the firmness of his chest as you move your hands over him. He grabs your hands, pressing kisses to your fingertips as you giggle.

“Wait–do you hear that?” He shushes you as you both strain to listen and then you hear it–the low groaning of mechanics, the lights flickering back on as you watch the elevator numbers light up as you finally start moving again. You sigh in relief and you both quickly stand up, smoothing out each other to look somewhat presentable. He stoops to grab your sweater from the ground, brushing it off before he holds it out for you to slip your arms back into it, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as he steps away. The ding of the elevator bell has you stepping a respectable distance apart, sneaking small smiles at each other as the door finally opens to face a worried crowd.

Talk later? he mouths, smile spreading when you nod. Not even your boss’s tomato-red face can sour your good mood, fueled even more by the slip that you find on your desk after lunch announcing your transfer to the floor above, to Joel’s floor.

—

tysm for reading!

#posting this and running away #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #the last of us fic #lexi writes things #posting tonight for u kali ty <3

1K notes · View notes

ambedo-phantom · 2 years

Text

i've absolutely had too much caffeine, it's almost midnight, i just submitted an application to a writers' workshop where i will show others my current project, and will work on it through several months. i'm so nervous. i'm nervous they won't accept my application, that seats are full, that they just won't think it's interesting enough. and i'm worried if i'm accepted that i won't be able to afford it. i'm so nervous about all of it i really believe in this story and i want to actually go forward with it and this is the first big step i took. the application form was very thorough and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh i'm just so nervous and i keep checking my email like they'd answer to my application at this hour lmao. i'm so afraid of getting a big fat NO in my face. anyway i'm just anxious and needed to post it somewhere, even if it is to no one. definitely won't be sleeping any time soon lol. end rant

#sorry for the rant #writing community #writerlife #i'm just so anxious and excited ugh #i'm worried abt the feelings i'm gonna feel if i don't get to join for any reason #i just want to share my art #and i'm really excited about this story which makes me all the more nervous #writer things #writing about writing #sakjdsakfhdghhdfkj #kali writes #kali's oc

0 notes

suntails · 1 year

Photo

loyalty

#bashing my skull thru the floor #its so fun how both of these two would do ANYTHING for malleus and are loyal to their core but like. it manifests differently #like okay. the school vignette where its sebek doing Everything for malleus and silver is more hands-off. the one where he sees jamil w kali #m and is like 'okay yea my way is better' like. that mentally difference translated into the Everything of them is so INCHRESTING #sebek is much more the type to have blinders on and to immediately jump in to what malleus is saying. silver is more levelheaded abt shit #like hes more likely to hesitate if something is off yknow? im gaahhahh im trying to beam my thoughts into ur head. gesturing vaguely at the #the picture describes itself u dont need me to write my little novels here (i will anyways)#mwah mwah if u read this far welcome to my favorite person club <3 <3 an ELITE group u should feel honored #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #silver vanrouge #<3 #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia #i need the OB NOW #suntails #oh yea also more silver head chopping #dont think i forgot

1K notes · View notes

aurorangen · 4 months

Text

It was late into the night and Renee was back at the station. She needed to find the problem with Vincent's phone and why his messages didn't send. Renee relayed all the information Vincent told her and he emphasised using the hospital wifi. They figured his phone was hacked this way and someone was spying on him, preventing him from making calls or messages. With the cyber security knowledge of Captain Vazquez, they tracked the IP address of the device used to intercept Vincent's phone. And the location was Strangerville.

Now Renee had all sorts of thoughts in her head. Despite it being late at night, she found the whole process fascinating. And all the links to Strangerville. The police may be the only way to uncover more about the place and find out what the hell is going on there. Perhaps she should switch from her history course to criminology and become a detective. Yes, she will do that. Renee doesn't like history as much as she did anyway and she liked the idea of solving crimes.

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #postcard legacy #postcard gen 3 #billy reichmann #renee reichmann #kali vazquez #i know nothing about hackers and police tracking im just winging it #its sims anyways doesnt have to be fully realistic whatever makes sense for the story imo! they hacked paytons too #but i didnt write it up there #i linked intercept to that post #bc of hackers intercepting a device not like a kidnapping 'intercept'#i was trying to mislead everyone there on purpose to make you #think vincent was caught and disappeared like that!!! i love my plot #now the barista and bodyguard links to everything and strangerville #all these small clues 😏 and im not following this generations rules entirely im making my own twists to everything 😏

234 notes · View notes

helena-thessaloniki · 2 months

Text

Can't stop thinking about Night Country. That feminine rage is cold and hard; old, older than everything else, and buried deep. That a woman alone is a dead woman; a woman alone is the most dangerous thing. That a man's ego is more important than a woman's life. That a woman who speaks up isn't silenced, she's destroyed. That women are strongest when they're together, when they speak, when they sing. When they're seen.

That what men want for themselves is reason enough to lay waste to everything else. That when it's weighed on the scales, their chance to live a little longer is worth more than a baby's first breath. That they'll do whatever it takes, even when it poisons all of our water.

How a mother dies and her daughter dies too, but a son can't live until he's killed his own father. How women only have power when they lie, assume the role of men, align themselves to men, or die.

And when they will no longer clean up after them.

When they honor who came before, paint the protest on their face, and learn their real name. When they emerge from the ice, leave the night behind and walk toward the sun instead of into the sea. When they shape their own stories. When their tongue is returned to them.

What a fucking masterpiece.

I guess she wanted to take them. I guess she ate their fuckin' dreams from the inside out and spit their frozen bones.

#night country #true detective spoilers #true detective night country #true detective s4 #evangeline navarro #liz danvers #issa lópez #the most metaphorical shit I've ever seen and I am here for it #fucking genius writing #feminine rage #absolute credit where credit is due to the indigenous women and people at the heart of this story #true detective #jodie foster #kali reis

98 notes · View notes

chaotic-iguana · 4 months

Text

quick psa

hi lads!

i don't do discord anymore because it was getting....orwellian. reach out to me on here, my dms are always open.

alternately, there's some stuff i've seen about servers being used to shit on other writers or smaller writers or whatever the fuck.

not only is that elitist as hell, it is genuine cunt behavior. if you're a writer, no matter big or small, you put your work out there and im proud of you.

lately, far too many people have overcomplicated this so let me recontextualise. we are online, we write as a hobby, and the absolute least we can do is be nice to each other. if you can't meet that minimum, get the fuck off my blog.

im someone who likes making friends and reaching out, which is why im going to maintain that and say i do NOT shit on writers on this page. that being said, if you are someone who fails to interact with your own readers or to respond to smaller writers because you're "big" or elite I regret to inform you that in truth, your head is a little too far up your own ass.

if you think the fact that YOU specifically liking my work because again ur "bigger" or more "elite" is going to be taken as a favor rather than the compliment it should be, i cordially invite you again, to get the fuck off my blog. dont condescend to me. this is a hobby. gtfo.

also stop circlejerking on discord goddamn

rant over. come be friends with me im nice i just don't like wankers.

241 notes · View notes

meantforinfinitesadness · 10 months

Text

Though I've not been able to work on the prompts I've been sent (im trying I promise), I did manage to write a little snippet from my Darth Umbra au (sithywan my beloved).

Also, I've been informed by an anon that they didnt know I write and so for those that didnt know I kind of do that, heres my ao3!

Anyway, Darth Umbra snippet below the cut if you wanna check it out.

"They are sentient." Umbra's soft voice breaks the monotonous sound of rain pattering against the window.

Dooku doesn't stop his tapping on the pad before him, his attention focused solely on the screen. "What is?" He asks half-mindedly.

"The clones."

Dooku stops his tapping. He lifts his gaze and turns around to face his apprentice.

Umbra stands there with wide eyes, unblinking even with the hard stare Dooku is leveling at him.

"Oh?"

"You said they weren't." Umbra replies.

"And how would you know they are not?" Dooku asks, steepling his fingers and narrowing his gaze.

Umbra is unfazed as he says, "they have minds of their own. They think and feel, just as you and I. Why would say they are not sentient? Those are all things sentients do."

"You've spoken to them," Dooku concludes.

Umbra blinks. "Yes."

The lighting from Dooku's fingers is fast and Umbra doesn't have time to stop it.

#kali writes #darth umbra #sithywan #sith obi wan

17 notes · View notes

sweeturis · 2 years

Text

where was the scene where noah had to be “harnessed up”? where was the scene with lucas, mike, and will wearing winter jackets? where was lonnie, since his car was in the california poster? where was kali and her gang, since they’ve been seen in bts pics? where was the mike finn described, who was “trying to be as normal as possible and keep on a normal path” and “might be into some new things”?

i am genuinely so confused. it’s like they cut out half the scenes they filmed.

#some shit is just bad writing like max’s letters never being brought up again or the reason for mike being distant from will and not being-#-able to hug him not being explored. but some stuff was just genuinely confusing ??#maybe they’ve already started filming season 5 (and the finn stuff is because he didn’t know what stuff they shot would be in what season)#but that doesn’t explain why lonnie’s car was in the california poster #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #will byers #kali prasad #byler #mine #mine: stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4

2K notes · View notes

diordrysdale · 2 years

Text

thrill of the rush ⋆ jim hopper

soft!dark!jim hopper x college!female!reader

word count ⋆ 1.4k

warnings ⋆ smut! minor dni, age gap (reader is a college student), semi-public sex, degradation kink, spit kink, slapping, size kink, dubcon, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, daddy kink, submissive!reader, mean!jim,

author’s note ⋆ older fictional men *sighs in hornyness* + no spoilers, this isn’t really set on a specific season or plot, just a little au <3

don’t forget to give me some love, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

you had taken over his mind completely.

everything reminded him of you.

from the smoke of his cigarettes that you whole-heartedly hated— as you’d told him countless times, but you swoon either way when he places the stick between his lips, lighting it up— to the moonlight that decorated the summer nights of june you’d spent sneaking around with him.

everyone was curious as to why hawkins’ stargirl was suddenly attached at hip with the chief of police.

oh, they’d be dumbfounded if they knew if the unexpected friendship was far from innocent.

if they were to learn how insatiable they both became for each other.

he was no longer ashamed of how much he adored spending time between your thighs— he had lawfully memorized the taste of your slick on his tongue.

but you had become distant this week, blowing him off with lousy excuses.

he knew something was going on.

removing his hat, he stepped into the library where his eyes darted across the room, convinced you’d be hidden behind a book-

“ahem.” marisa, the librarian cleared her throat at the sight of the cop.

he nodded once, irking at how uncomfortable the atmosphere had immediately become, both parties reminiscing at how he apparently forgot to call her after a lousy date once upon a time.

he shuffled away, ears perking up at the quiet humming in the corner and the tapping of your sneakers against the carpet floor.

“hey,” he spoke, stomach churning when your head whipped up with widened [e/c] eyes.

“hopper… what’re you doing here?” you stood from your chair slowly as he circled around the table, reaching for your hand as he tugged you between the bookshelves.

“you weren’t answering your calls, so I assumed you weren’t in your dorm,” he mentioned, leaving you to lean gently against the books as you glanced up at him.

“I needed to clear my head, so I just- i-“ he cupped your cheek with his large hand and halted your stuttering, frowning a bit.

“what’s wrong?” he mumbled, watching you sigh with teary eyes as you fiddled with the buttons of his uniform.

“it’s stupid.” you bite back tears, not giving a single thought to his thumb that begun to trace your pouting lips, lust in his eyes.

he had the weight of a long fucking day on his shoulders, he just needed to feel you on his cock.

“c’mon, sweetheart, tell me,” he urged as his free hand disappeared under your mini skirt, his fingers playing with your cutesy, cotton panties.

“last friday, w-when you dropped me off at my dorm…” you trailed off when his large hand forcefully tugged your underwear down your legs, leaving them to puddle around your toes.

“keep talking.” he grumbled, shoving your legs apart his own as his thick fingers found your clit immediately, causing you to whimper and glance around the empty library.

“I-I- um, I got a phone call a-and- fuck!” you cursed out softly as his middle and ring finger circled rapidly on your pulsing button, before he abruptly stopped and rose his palm to smack your cheek, turning your face to the side.

“do I gotta wash your mouth with soap?huh?” he gripped your cheeks and forced you to look at him with the tears streaming down your face, “I’ve taught you better, haven’t i?”

you nodded rapidly, leading his hand back to your heat, “yes- i’m sorry, daddy.”

he grins in satisfaction as he gathers your dripping honey and spreads it across your lips, massaging them a bit for you like a gentlemen.

“so, I got a phone call and it was a boy.” you continued, squirming a bit as he frowned, maneuvering your body, guiding you to sit on the ground as he removed his jacket, placing it behind you— it was like a routine, you knew exactly what to do: lay down on his uniform jacket, spread your legs, and thank him for what was to come.

“a boy, huh?” he hovers on top of you, unbuckling his slacks as you help him slightly pull them down like a good girl, practically salivating at his hardened shaft.

“y-yes, he wanted to know if I’d go out with him-“ you gasped as his thumb zeroed on your swelling clit, making your shut your thighs around his hand but it was no use, your jaw fell slack as your hands attempted to shove him away, it was pathetic, you were already coming for him within seconds, slowly coating his gifted hand with your cream.

“and who the fuck was this boy, baby?” he continued to touch your puffy folds, pride filling his chest at your aftershocks and bratty whines.

“billy. billy hargrove.” you look up at him, terrified of his reaction, and just as you thought, his expression was cold.

you hadn’t thought of him as the jealous type, but there was just something about you that made him feel possessive— he just loved you just a little too much.

“and you wanted to go with him?” he reveals his cock, painfully erect as he rubs it up and down your slit, coating himself in you, as if you were claiming him.

“you wanted to go on a little date with him, like a fucking whore?” he spat cruelly, prodding his engorged tip against your hole— and you couldn’t admit it out loud, but his brutal words made your head spin.

“n-no,” you whimpered, preening at the way his calloused hand began to knead at your clothed tits, he wanted to feel you all over, but there was only so much you could do in the secluded back area of the library.

“you wanted to see if he could make this dumb little cunt feel good?” he made his cock slap on your pussy, the wet noises echoing loud enough for the two of you to etch into your minds forever.

“only you can make me feel good, daddy, I promise— ” you cried out as you were interrupted by the sudden thrust of his cock through your wet, velvety hole, fucking it with a slow pace, but you knew what was next, he wouldn’t be gentle.

“I asked a yes or no question,” he panted as one hand gripped at your hips, and the other held himself up, and before you could think, he spat onto your cheek.

“you know what to do, slut,” he smirked when your trembling fingers reached for the saliva treading down your skin, gathered it and brought it to your lips, making them glimmer, “now, answer me.”

“n-no, he could never make me feel good, not like you do,” your confession is followed with wanton moans, feeling his cock ram into you over and over again, his heavy breaths heating up your neck as he left sloppy kisses down your skin.

it made you realize he hadn’t kissed your lips yet, it made you feel like a his very own sex doll, and even though it made you feel dirty, you loved it.

“fuck my pussy, daddy— faster, please,” your legs wrapped tightly around his sturdy waist, wanting nothing other that to feel his penetration deeper, feeling every ridge, every nudge of the pulsing head of his cock against your cervix— you were mesmerized.

“what’d I say about those filthy words?” you were positive he’d smack your clit just how you wanted, but you cried out when the rough fingers of his free hand ran beneath your blouse, only to pinch and tug at your sensitive nipples.

“you love how this feels, right baby? you drive me fucking insane,” the tears running down your cheeks made his balls tighten, thighs shook as he tried to drag out his orgasm, but it was too late, he was shooting his hot load deep inside of you.

you hadn’t even realized he didn’t have a condom on, but, fuck, it felt amazing.

“shit,” he breathed out, lifting your shirt to lower down and suckle at your breasts, giving him some sort of calm and comfort as he came down.

“daddy,” you whimpered when his teeth dragged against your nipples, hoping he’d detach, yet your back arched for more.

“we’re going back to my place, sweetheart,” his forehead rested against your chest, his mustache tickling your skin, “but before that, we’re giving billy hargrove a visit.”

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

a/n; this took a dark turn but I seriously cannot stop thinking about this man he makes me FERAL

#kali writes !#stranger things #Jim hopper #david harbour #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x female reader #jim hopper x female reader smut #stranger things season 4 #david harbour x reader #david harbour x reader smut #stranger things smut #Jim hopper fluff #Jim hopper angst

2K notes · View notes