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#like i said. its not a slur. its not a bad thing to be.

transmaverique · 12 days

Note

gonna be honest I see anyone talking about this "my gender is more complicated than yours" shit as someone who genuinely cannot comprehend that other people that don't share certain traits with them can still in fact have rich interior lives. as an agender trans woman who uses she/her I've never had anyone say it to me who wasn't (usually unknowingly) transmisogynistic

see but im not talking about "rich interior lives" and the assumption that i am is exactly what im talking about. i am talking about the actual physical way that reality treats and percieves me in comparison to the way it treats and percieves you. saying my gender is "more complex" means to me that i am physically incapable of existing in a strictly binary world and that there is no thing i can pass as bc "binary man" and "binary woman" are both incorrect for me. and the Cisiety in question does not allow androgyny to exist - it is exclusively the timeframe people have to decide whether they think you are a cisman or a ciswoman, or a failure and a freak. i dont subscribe to that "binary privilege" shit, thats not how privilege works. but there are differences in the ways both you and i can navigate this strictly binary Cisiety!!! and those differences deserve to be named, imo

like. again. i dont have to comfort you about your own internal sense of gender before youll listen to me about my experiences in the real world as genderqueer. as a different sort of transsexual than you.

(and bc i Know what binary ppl love to say: i know not everyone is 'capable of passing'. what i am talking about specifically is the difference between being unable to pass as a cis woman or a cis man vs being unable to pass bc what i am does not exist AT ALL in a binary society, and both of those things are incorrect ans unattainable.)

(anyways if that language is too imperfect for you thats like fine but. its just confusing to me, i dont get why its hard to understand what we are talking about here. our experiences w our nonbinary genders are completely different! why do i have to discuss them like theyre the same?)

#do you consider yourself transfem first or agender first on an internal level?#do you feel like you are predominantly treated as a trans woman in your day to day? does that hurt the part of you that is agender?#< not trying to grill u or anything im genuinely curious #ive had similar convos w my transmasc and transfem nonbinary friends as well as like. my gnc binary trans friends #i am just curious bc. like i said 'binary' isnt a bad thing to be and frankly since u identify urself as agender ur not really the target a #dience here anyways?#the idea that theres no such thing as a binary trans person just #fundamentally misunderstands the extremely broad swathe of nonbinary experiences and treatments #my passing transmasc enby friends dont particularly feel touched by transphobia unless theyre clocked or unless our areas laws changed #but some DO feel like they r effected by exorsexism on a day to day by being assumed to be binary men and having the other parts of their i #entities erased #while others are completely comfortable being percieved as strictly men and moving through life strictly as men #which is sounds like. i would guess youd have a similar position since u exclusively use she/her?#like.. it sounds to me like your 'rich interior life' doesnt really have an outward effect on the way people percieve and treat you and the #way you react to it which is very different from my experience #binary doesnt mean your gender is 'simple' it just means that you are comfortable within a binary system even of you dont personally identi #y with it. and maybe this is a case of 'political identity vs personal identity'??#and all of this is FINE its just. literally every time i talk about my own unique positioning my transandrogyny or whatever gives me #people crawl out of the woodwork to tell me my experiences are not actually unique #do u see what my issue is? my own trans experiences are erased bc other people 'disagree' with . what. my perspective as an 'unaligned' enb #? when its like. literally none of us are gonna have the same needs or experiences as trans people #and if 'binary' works to show that you are fine and comfortable being percieved exclusively as a woman #and 'nonbinary' works to show i am not #i dont really see what the issue w using the word 'binary' is #like i said. its not a slur. its not a bad thing to be.#and tbh i think this insistence that 'unaligned' nonbinary ppls perspectives arent actually unique to binary or 'aligned' nonbinary ppls is #directly contributing to like. lateral bigotry coming from said 'unaligned' enbies. like if u put urself in my shoes for a second and u gre #up being constantly told you were either a cis invader who didnt actually have any trans experiences and that only people who want to 'full #transition' were REAL transsexuals then. youd be kinda jaded too right? and im sure you ARE kinda jaded lol.#anyways. sorry for rambling at you i dont have any more tags left lol

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luveline · 10 months

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If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white.

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?"

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says.

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?"

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern.

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through.

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?"

"Spencer!"

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?"

"I miss you so much."

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?"

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks.

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!"

"I can tell."

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin.

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation.

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated.

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic."

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?"

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too."

"She's making toast or something."

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas."

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear."

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache."

"It makes me miss you," you whine.

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?"

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to."

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's."

"Exactly!"

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of.

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks.

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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hotxcheeto · 9 months

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im begging for a fic with ellie about tribbing i don't even care about the plot at this point i just an ellie fic with scissoring

━ 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ?

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, ex gf!ellie, angst here and there, SMUT, tribbing, kissing/make out session, lowkey toxic behavior, mentions and situations with alcohol, both ellie and reader are tipsy, party environment in the first 1/2, top!ellie, bottom!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - ehhehehehehe i love olivia rodrigo so i had to bruh REQUESTS ARE OPEN NOW!

REBLOG MY WORK! I WORK HARD & IT'S APPRECIATED!!

Music bumped in the room on the other side of the wall that supported the upper cabinet that held your head. The smell of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes filled up the small kitchen to the brim while a few people laughed and chugged the concoction in the punch bowl that sat on the corner countertop.

Other than the patrons drinking themselves into a very horrible morning that was soon to come, there was a couple making out against the fridge. Bothering anyone that wanted to drink something other than what the party host called, 'the ultimate punch to the gut' that the college boys were frothing over.

You decided on something else that you'd scavenged from the liquor cabinet that had been broken into earlier in the night. The liquid a pink color, bubbling from the continued sloshing in your red solo cup that was lazily hanging from your hand.

Your head felt dizzy at all the uproar in the room, the only thing keeping your two feet flat on the ground was the girl in front of you. Chasing your gaze with her head that way with each direction you looked, her eyes weren't far behind to follow.

"I told you I'm done, Ellie. I'm sick of your shit." You slurred slightly, having swayed your hips on far too many people and had too many drinks to care about how you currently sounded.

Or looked for that matter, lipstick smudged across your lips and even had made its way off your mouth. Eye makeup mirroring the appearance of the lower half of your face and all the while your dress was halfway up your thighs from her prying and your continuous attempts to stop yourself from making a decision you'd regret.

"You're a fakeass bitch, y'know that?" You pointed at her, the manicure that she had in fact paid for practically mocking her as she grabbed your hand and pushed it down, holding it in her own.

"Don't be like that, babe." You rolled your eyes at just the sound of her voice, suddenly hearing it and comparing it to the biggest annoyance in the world. "You were like that first, or did you already discard the lap warmer you were entertaining when I walked in?"

Right, the bottle blonde with the bad roots.

"Y/n..." She dragged out your name with that excruciating tone that made you feel like you'd done something bad. "Answer me Ellie."

She opened and closed her mouth for a second, not meeting your eyes before shrugging her shoulders. The black fabric of her long sleeve button up going with, pissing you off even more as the realization set in that she'd worn your favorite of her nice shirts and even undone the top few buttons you always undid for her.

"She's one of Abby's friends, fuck Y/n, I don't even know her name I promise." You scoffed, leaning your head back on the cupboard, looking over at the drunk guys challenging each other to drink a full cup of the punch once again.

"You piss me off." You rubbed your eyes, not caring of the slight burn that your lashes caused on your irises. "I know. C'mon, I said sorry." She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You sent me fifty-eight text messages, I don't remember there being a 'sorry' in there though." "Babe-" Ellie stopped when she realized you were in fact not paying any attention to her now, looking out the kitchen window, but it was too dark to actually see anything past the glass.

"C'mon... let's just go home, I'll give you the best apology fucking ever." The alcohol really boosted her confidence as she said this, Ellie moving to kiss up your neck as you thought, her thumb coming to wipe the smeared lipstick away.

"I promise, babe." You wanted to fall against her and give in, just how you wanted when you seen her earlier eye-fucking you from across the room. Fucking hell you were such a gullible mess.

"Ellie..." "Can't tell me you don't miss my fingers..." "Shh!"

You tried covering her mouth but it was no use as she just laughed, looking down at your pretty eyes while you tried to shut her up.

"I don't, mine work just fine, actually." Such fakeness followed those syllables, even you cringed slightly on the inside as you spoke them.

"Huh, so you're lying to me now too?"

"No..." Yes.

"You're a bad liar." She then whispered, impossible to hear her if you had not been so close to her mouth. "You're a dickhead." You then replied, giving her a smile while pulling back.

That was nothing to her, leaning forward despite your unwillingness just earlier, but something about the way you met her lips wondered if you changed your mind.

She tasted like the shitty alcohol mix those dudes were chugging along with soaked in Chapstick and the two combined creating a rush of memories that came trickling back. Those pictures soon invading your mind all the same, fingers wrapping around her belt loops before you got a chance to stop them.

And in the haze of the smoky kitchen you broke your promise to each of your friends promising you wouldn't go back. Tugging her closer and allowing her to rest her hands beneath your ass, holding the backs of your thighs to get impossibly closer.

She was your everything and nothing, the mess stuck between your floorboards that you could never fully get rid of. Ellie knew she wasn't going anywhere, she couldn't and wouldn't be replaced and it was comforting, smirking as she began pushing herself against you and hitting your hips against the counter.

"M'not-" A kiss. "-gonna fuck you-" Another kiss. "-here." You finished, her tongue invading your mouth as soon as the final breath passed your lips. "Why not?" "Seriously?" Ellie rested her forehead against your own, huffing like a child until you tapped her phone that was in her back pocket.

"You can start your apology by buying the ride home, 'kay?"

God, the things she did to see you as you were now, laid back on the bed with your dress pulled up and your head resting against her pillows. Thighs spread all for her while you stared up and watched her unbuckle her belt and unzip her jeans. Wanting nothing more than to have her between your thighs

You just looked so gorgeous in the lamplight, the yellow glow kissing your skin and she moved to kiss it as well. Wanting just as much as the inanimate object had gotten in the past few moments.

"M'gonna be so mad at myself in the morning." You grumbled playfully, Ellie watching you grin at your own prediction, returning the smile while throwing her shirt away and exposing her torso for you to run your eyes over. "But I don't even care." You concluded.

Your nail ran along the light bulge her muscles created on her arms, eyes fluttering shut while her lips made their home on your neck. Jaw becoming her favorite place to hover, smirking against your flesh when you giggled that it had tickled. Looking at the way her boxers met her lower back, little dimples just barely shadowed.

"Ellie?" She pulled back to look at you, cradling your face in her hands.

"Yeah?"

"Unzip me, I wanna feel you."

She didn't have to be told twice, helping you from your dress before tossing it to find the next morning. Your undergarments going with, swept away like they were stolen by the ocean. Your body running against hers as if you were the waves and she were the rocks, though less jagged then you'd like to admit out loud.

Her curves were softer than you remembered despite feeling them just days ago, along with her freckled skin.

"I want you." She whispered, mouth brushing against the shell of your ear.

Your friends were so gonna put you in time out.

Her boxers fell down her legs and yours wrapped around her hips, waiting for the agonizing thumping of your arousal to be put at ease. The discomfort growing while her fingers ran along your nipple, warm breath fanning your face as you both watched her hand run along your boob.

It was like the air paused along with your movements, sucking in a gasp as she played with your breast. Hand trickling down between your legs just to barely tease you.

"You wanna feel me?" You nodded at her question, moving your head up and down again and again while she lined herself up with you. Fingers lightly, just barely, brushing against your little, yet swollen, clit.

"Need to hear you say it again, Y/n."

"I wanna feel you, Ellie."

And before you knew it she was humping herself against you, not even attempting to muffle your sounds which you'd given up caring about. Grabbing at her back and holding her as close to you as possible while her clit bumped and rubbed against your own.

It felt like fireworks, despite having done this just over a million times. Burying your face in her neck while she fucked into you over and over, promising her love silently while whispering things that would make a catholic mother weep.

"Missed you so much..." You turned your head, meeting her eyes as your lips did the same. "Me or this?" You asked, a choked whimper following when she became rougher at the sound of your falsely innocent question. Her hand trapping your leg on the bed as she spread you apart.

"Both, but mainly you." She played off, her other hand softly wrapping around your neck. "I would hope." You giggled, mouth dropping agape as her pace picked up. The whole bed rocking back and forth while simultaneous creaks that were sure to piss off her neighbors for the next however long she spent on top of you.

"Oh fuck, El... fuck please..." You squeezed and clawed at her, sure to leave red marks on her pale skin for her to be teased about when she went to the gym. Cunts grinding back and forth creating a heavenly feeling you just couldn't describe, choking out noise after noise.

"El... m'gonna- fuck I- fuck..." She kissed along the column of your throat, squeezing just the slightest. "I know." From your hole to your bundle of nerves, in your slightly inebriated state it felt like too much.

Sounds you weren't aware you could make falling from your mouth, and you were sure you heard her lightly grunt. Hips stuttering as you'd begun to jerk against her pussy, letting out a yelp while you trickled into your orgasm.

A mix of both you and her dripping down your ass, but it didn't stop you from trying to meet her thrusts. Crying a bit when she slammed you back down, kissing you and then down your chest.

"Leah's gonna be so pissed at me." You huffed, staring up at the ceiling as she peeled herself off of you and fell to the side. Giving you the option of moving to lay with her or finding your way the hell out of here.

"Who cares? Come ride me." She said, sitting up against her pillows that laid against her headboard. "Seriously?' You tilted your head up to glance at her, giving her your best unimpressed expression.

"What? Can't take it back anyway."

This was a bad idea, right?

"Will you eat me out after?" You asked, tilting your head and then rolling over to make your way up to her. "If you do a good job." She said, setting her hands on your hips.

Fuck it, it's fine.

a/n: YES I KNOW THAT SHE'S MY EX BUT CAN'T TWO PEOPLE RECONNECT I ONLY SEE HER AS A FRIEND! BIGGEST LIE I EVER SAID.

REQUESTS OPEN

#ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams tlou #ellie smut #tlou smut #nevy writes

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 10 months

Text

IV ║ Notch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part III: Edgestitch | Behind the Seams: Part IV | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, but not that explicit

Summary: While Ellie works her first shift at the Outfitters, Joel drops by yours to return the blouse you left behind at the baby shower. Turns out, there's plenty around the house to keep him occupied until the teenager clocks off.

Warnings: Sexual tension, body insecurity, some language, inaccurate descriptions of gardening, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, undervest supremacy, flirting, dry humping, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.9k

Notes: Once I started writing this chapter in earnest, it came together a bit more quickly than I expected! It's extremely self-indulgent, with plenty of white undervest and belly action because you guys deserve all of that goodness for being the most patient, loving readers a writer could hope for 🥹 Thank you, I love you all! ❤️

Notch – diamond shaped marks that stick out beyond the edge of the pattern to line up all the pieces when sewing the garment. They come in pairs to be matched up.

Joel is sleeping - which is not something that could be said until a couple of months ago.

After the outbreak, sleep as a concept ceased to exist. What took its place is literal ‘shuteye’, either engineered by pills knocked back with moonshine, or a preventative shutdown by his body to avoid total failure, having pushed his physical form to the living limit.

It’s the kind of sleep that is destitute and provides no relief. It keeps the cogs turning just enough that he doesn’t expire, standing in his boots - which, on most days, are not the only things held together by duct tape.

But after the hospital, even that turned out to be too much to ask for. Some nights, the itch for chemical-induced relief got so bad that Joel entertained the thought of asking Tommy for illicit pills, ready to crawl on all fours to his brother’s house two streets down because he was shaking so hard he couldn’t lock his knees. But he didn’t trust him not to tell Maria, and with Ellie in the picture, he wasn’t about to tempt fate.

So instead, he asked Maria to assign him to night patrols. She hmmm’d at his request like she knew something he didn’t, but she humoured him, letting him take the graveyard shift for a couple of weeks straight. She didn’t have to tell him that she could see the way he tripped over his own feet and hear the slur in his voice. She’s too sharp not to notice.

But she didn’t say anything.

What she did do though, was not so subtly wean him off the late-night patrols. It started with a couple of random, last-minute changes, and then the next thing he knew, he was working morning shifts exclusively. When he tried covertly swapping stints with another guy, he showed up at the guard tower at midnight to find his sister-in-law standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her pregnant belly.

As he trudged home begrudgingly with his head down and her stern reprimand in his ears, he couldn’t help a chuckle. Gotta hand it to her.

Banished back to his bed, Joel went back to staring owlishly at the ceiling, watching the moonlight slide across the plaster until he knew all the cracks in it with his eyes closed (metaphorically). He’d listen to Ellie snoring away two doors down and marvel at the fact that she somehow still slept like the dead, even after… all that.

And then, one night, it happened for him too.

Admittedly, he ate a bit too much at Tommy and Maria’s - on top of running the town like a well-oiled machine, she makes a mean chicken fried steak - and Ellie had not so subtly plonked a second helping on his plate without asking. He was lying in bed, steeling himself for another long night, when his eyes drooped. The motion was so alien that it jolted him wide awake, but he couldn’t shake the weight that clung to the seams of his lashes. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning.

Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.

It’s nowhere near consistent, and more often than not he wakes up in a cold sweat in the small hours, but in between, he’s sleeping. For once, he’s feeling rested. And it’s a nice fucking break from the relentless exhaustion that he’s convinced is fused into his bones.

He always wakes up earlier than Ellie though. She never stomps down the stairs until he’s already had breakfast, and hers has gone cold.

So on the Saturday morning following the baby shower, with his face plastered into the mattress, body curled around a pillow - old habits die hard - Joel nearly falls out of bed at the banging on his door.

‘Joel! Get the fuck up!’

For one disconcerting moment between sleep and wake, he’s in his bedroom back in Texas. He half expects to look up to see the posters on the wall and the perpetually overflowing laundry basket at the foot of his bed.

Blinking through the urge to close his eyes, the colours fade and he stares blearily at the digital clock on his bedside table.

7:30.

What the fuck? More often than not he has to drag the teenager out of bed by the ankles, kicking and swearing, at 7:50 to get to school at 8:00.

His knees groan as he staggers onto his feet, grabbing yesterday’s jeans from the floor and pulling them on. He finds a passably clean shirt about five deep on a chair, which he shrugs on over his white undervest. With a grunt, he yanks open the door and heads downstairs on bare feet, frowning at unfamiliar sounds coming from the kitchen.

Joel pauses in the doorway, hands on hips. ‘What do you think you’re doin’?’

Deeming his question unworthy of a response, Ellie tosses him a roll of her eyes over her shoulder and resolutely ignores him.

Shuffling closer, he asks, ‘Are you - cookin’?’

Brandishing the spatula at him, she snarls, ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

He goads her with a smirk. ‘To be honest, it looks like you threw up in the pan.’

Ellie elbows him hard in the stomach. ‘Fuck you, man!’

He grins. There’s nothing like winding her up first thing in the morning. Grabbing the pan, he bins the ruined eggs, scraping off the burnt bits stuck to the bottom. ‘Crack some more eggs, I’ll make ‘em.’

Ten minutes later, in their usual seats at the kitchen table, they tuck into scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

‘Slow down,’ warns Joel as Ellie wolfs down hers. ‘You’re gonna choke.’

‘You hurry up! Can’t be late for my first day,’ she garbles through a mouthful of food.

‘Why can’t you be like this about school?’ he grumbles, then he winces as his teeth catch something crunchy. Picking it out, he gives her a pointed look. ‘Eggshell.’

‘Calcium,’ she shoots back without even looking up, too busy shoving the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, stuffing her cheeks like a chipmunk.

That one word stops Joel in his tracks and hurls him twenty years back in time.

But then Ellie is jumping up and practically throwing her empty plate into the sink, sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as she dashes out of the kitchen. ‘C’mon, old man!’

Joel smiles, the memory warm like sun on his face.

He shakes his head, slowly finishing his breakfast - like he wishes he did that day.

They turn out to be fifteen minutes early.

To his chagrin, Ellie admits freely that she lied about the time so they wouldn’t be late. He’s a punctual guy, thank you very much. He certainly doesn’t need to be schooled by the little brat.

Joel sits on the stairs, while Ellie has her face squished up against the door, unabashedly leaving smudges on the glass panels as she keeps up an uninterrupted running commentary on every last piece of clothing she can see.

He tunes her out easily, shifting in his seat so that his right ear is to the door. In his hands is the blouse that you left behind at Tommy and Maria’s at the baby shower. He’s been meaning to return it to you, but the week got away from him, and there’s no time like the present.

Considering the state of his knees, he impresses himself with the speed at which he stands at the sound of footsteps on the otherwise quiet main street. Squaring his shoulders, he discreetly pulls on his shirt, suddenly seeing wrinkles everywhere in the fabric, and runs his fingers through his hair, wishing he’d taken another look in the mirror before he left the house -

But it’s Lucy who appears at the bottom of the stairs with her unfailingly sunny smile.

‘Hi, you must be Ellie,’ she chirps.

She eyes Lucy cautiously, lips pinched to one side. ‘Where’s Pin?’

Joel growls. ‘Manners.’

Ellie puts her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. I meant - nice to meet you, where’s Pin?’

Lucy beams good-naturedly and fiddles with the lock. ‘She’s off today, and it’s all my fault because I made her work three weekends in a row. You’ll be helping me in the front anyway, so I’ll show you the ropes.’ Stepping aside and swinging the door open, she prompts, ‘In you go now, hon.’

Ellie doesn’t even look back at him, rushing into the shop like a thoroughbred fresh out of the starting gates.

Pocketing the keys, Lucy smiles. ‘Hi Joel.’

‘Hey,’ he nods back. ‘Sorry about Ellie.’

‘Don’t be, I was exactly like her when I was younger. Still am sometimes,’ she jokes. Then with a sly side eye, she remarks, ‘And honestly, you look more disappointed that I showed up than she does.’

He splutters, ‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

She smirks knowingly, gesturing at the blouse clutched tightly in his left fist. ‘I can pass that to Pin for ya.’

Joel hesitates for just a second, and Lucy bursts into laughter, elbowing him teasingly. ‘The way your face fell! I’m joking, Miller. Relax.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s fine, guess I’ll give it to her next time she’s ‘round.’

Just then, from the depths of the shop, Ellie gasps dramatically and yells at the top of her lungs, ‘I want thissssssss one!’

Meeting Lucy’s eyes, Joel asks, ‘Sure you gonna be ok left alone with her?’

She shrugs. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

He flashes her a thumbs up. ‘I’ll pick her up at three then.’

He’s about to walk away from the Outfitters when Lucy’s voice stops him. ‘Hey, Joel!’

Looking up at the wraparound porch, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

‘She lives in the yellow cottage on the same street as the shoe shop. Keep going north, you can’t miss it,’ she says with a two-finger salute and a parting line that he’s heard before. ‘Say hi to Pin for me!’

You’ve always had a soft spot for the turn of the season, when late spring blooms graciously give way to summer buds. The grass smells greener, and the air is pregnant with pollen and nectar. It’s not overly warm yet, but you can feel the intensity in the sunlight, muted only by the early hour. Good thing you’re starting early.

It’s unseasonably warm for June, and the vegetable patch on the far end of your garden has suddenly burst into life. The cauliflower has finally come through after two failed crops in a row, and both the tomato vines and pepper plants are thriving. Closer to the ground, the onion and garlic shoots are patiently waiting to be pulled, and asparagus shoots spear through the earth in tidy lines one after another.

Pulling on a hat and gloves, you get to work.

You’re halfway through the second row of onions when there’s a faint knock on the front door. Even though you’ve only been in the sun for a little while, the coolness inside the house feels like a balm to your skin as you pad inside, peeling off your gloves before reaching for the door.

Swinging it open, you’re stumped by the sight of Joel Miller on your doorstep.

You haven’t seen him since the party, where you’d agreed on a start date and time for Ellie’s first shift, and -

Since the kiss.

You’ve felt his absence keenly. You’ve caught yourself loitering on street corners, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, knowing you’ll be able to spot him just by the way his shoulders swing with his long strides. You’ve kept an ear out for the southern lilt that has chased goosebumps across your skin, or any mention of his name, but all in vain.

Jackson has a habit of growing in size, usually in direct proportion to one’s desperation.

Now that he’s somehow here, you’re aware you’re gaping at him, so broad that his shoulders are blocking out the daylight. Too many years out of practice to count, you have no idea what the protocol is when you next see the man who literally made your knees buckle with just his lips and nothing else.

‘Mornin’, he finally says with a small smile.

You stammer. ‘H-hello. What, um, I mean, how -’

‘I dropped off Ellie at the shop and Lucy told me where you live,’ he explains, shaking out the blouse in his hands. ‘Thought I’d come ‘round and return this.’

Your palm twitches with the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. Of course that’s why he’s here.

Taking the top from him, you smile back gratefully. ‘Thank you. And of course, it’s Ellie’s first day. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but I’ve been subbing for Lucy on the weekends for a month straight and I needed a break.’

He waves away your apology. ‘Count yourself lucky. She was just ‘bout bouncin’ off the walls.’

‘Bless her heart,’ you chuckle, breaking off when his eyes flicker over you, as if he’s just registered your very minimalist ensemble of a white cotton tank top and denim cut-offs. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, flattery winning out against self-consciousness at the deliberate drag of his gaze over you, a thoughtful weight behind it.

That is until something catches his attention, and you flinch when he peers under the brim of your hat. ‘What -’

Before you can even articulate your question, he’s taken one step towards you, his work boots heavy on your creaky wooden porch. His voice is low but rough around the edges, just the way you like it.

‘You got some dirt -’ he swipes his index finger firmly on the end of your nose. ‘Right here.’

Your jaw hangs open, then clamps shut, in quick succession, the shell of your ears burning hot at his fleeting touch. Throat suddenly dry, you barely manage to squeak, ‘Thanks.’

One day, you will at least try and keep your cool around this man. But alas, it is not this day.

Rearranging himself, Joel leans on the doorframe with his arms crossed and remarks conversationally, ‘You look outdoorsy this mornin’.’

Flashing the soil-stained gloves at him, you try to keep your voice steady. ‘I’m just doing some gardening out back. The vegetable patch needs harvesting.’

He purses his lips at that. ‘Didn’t peg you as the gardenin’ type.’

You don’t know where the bravado comes from, but you swat him on the arm with the gloves and quip, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

‘You got me there,’ he huffs a laugh and gestures towards the back of the house. ‘Anythin’ I can do to help?’

The refusal is on the tip of your tongue. You don’t say yes to a whole lot nowadays, other than when Lucy makes you. But then you hear yourself ask, a challenge in your voice that you didn’t know you had. ‘I don’t know. Are you any good with your hands, Joel Miller?’

At the boldness in your words, which you don’t take back, Joel’s eyebrows reach for his hairline. Biting your lip but standing your ground, you watch him grind his jaw as he considers his response.

‘Why don’t you try me, sweetheart?’

‘Like this?’

‘Wait - slow down.’

A shuffle of hands. ‘How about now?’

‘That’s it. Yes, that’s good. Keep going.’

A raspy grunt. ‘I think I’m almost there.’

‘Yeah, that’s right, don’t stop -’

‘Alright, you ready?’

‘Come on, Joel -’

With one last flick, the knife slices clean through the base of the stalk, and Joel plucks the cauliflower head out of its leafy cradle with a triumphant grin.

‘How’s that for good hands, huh?’ he crows.

‘I’ll get back to you in the fall when we see if the cauliflower grows back,’ you tease.

He huffs, squinting up at you through the sun. ‘You’re hard to please, sweetheart.’

You preen at the playful turn of the conversation. If you were a little braver, you’d give him a mischievous wink - but for now, you gesture at the patch. ‘Can you handle the rest? I’ll get started on the peppers.’

He nods. ‘Leave ‘em with me.’

The pepper plants are having a great season, standing at four feet tall and heaving with fruits. You’ve left them alone on the vine for the last three weeks to sweeten, and they have dutifully ripened into a beautiful red. Settling onto your knees, you methodologically comb through the peppers from top to bottom, cutting off each one by the stalks.

It’s a big harvest, half of which you plan on giving away to your neighbours in exchange for their berries and lemons. Some you will cook. Lucy is due to come over for dinner, and she loves your stuffed pepper recipe. The rest you’ll have to find time to roast, skin, deseed and preserve in oil, which will last the rest of the year -

A shadow falls over you, stilling your hands and drawing your eyes upwards.

The sight is familiar - feet planted shoulder-wide by your knees, chin tucked in as he stares down at you, your nose level with the front of the jeans that you picked out for him - you’ve seen it all before, except for one small detail.

Joel is sweating. A lot.

His thin plaid shirt - you’re not sure if you’ve seen him in anything else yet - is sticking to him like a second skin, clinging to the solid outline of his biceps as he holds onto the basket full of cauliflower heads. The sunlight glances off the perspiration dotting his hairline, and the wispy grays that normally curl away from his face have wilted in the humidity.

There’s a flush under his skin as he swipes at his forehead with his shirt sleeve, and your gaze follows a bead of sweat dripping down the prominent vein on the side of his neck, and into the deep V of his shirt - wait, is that the outline of an undervest that you can just make out underneath -

‘Should I take the cauliflower in?’

‘Um -’ you stammer to a halt, eyes still plastered to the front of his chest, just like his shirt.

He clearly mistakes your gawking for something else, flashing you an apologetic smile at his state. ‘Sorry, I work up a sweat real easy.’

Oh, come on. Now all you’re thinking about is how else he works up a sweat -

Seized by the sudden need to get out of the heat in more than one sense of the word, you rip the basket from his grasp and turn on your heels to sprint into the house with a choked, ‘I’ll be right back!’

You nearly trip over your own feet running into the kitchen, your heart thumping so loudly in its ribcage it feels like the whole house is shaking to the beat.

And all that man has done is sweat in front of you.

‘Pull yourself together, Pin,’ you mutter to yourself as you tip the cauliflower heads onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a jug from the cupboard, you put it in the sink and turn on the faucet. Watching the trickle of water, you make yourself take three deep breaths.

Joel’s kind enough to do you a favour, you could at least have the courtesy to not perv on him while he helps you out.

Nodding determinedly to yourself, you pluck two glasses from the drying rack, putting them inside the empty basket that you hook on your elbow, and march back outside -

Only to almost swallow your tongue and drop the full jug of water right at your feet.

Joel’s sweat-soaked shirt is now hanging on your washing line like a white flag, having surrendered to the heat. And just like that, the very image that has been inconveniently seared into the back of your eyes since the party is suddenly before you in all its glory, in the morning sun, out in the open air.

The white undervest stretches over the breadth of him, and if he didn’t look so good in it, you would’ve laughed at the comical way the flimsy straps are clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. Then he bends over to inspect the tomato vines, the bottom of his vest riding up with the movement, teasing a flash of skin above the waistline of the jeans pulled tight over his behind. One big hand reaches out, the outline of his arm flexing as he does, and he palms the bottom of one tomato, testing if it’s ripe for the picking.

Except in your head, it’s something else he’s cupping with such rapturous attention.

He doesn’t notice you until he stands up with a low grunt of effort. Pointing an apologetic finger at his shirt, he says, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I’m sweatin’ right through it like nobody’s business.’

You make a noise in your throat that you pass off as an answer, and with shaky hands, pour him a full glass of water which you shove in his direction.

‘Appreciate it, sweetheart.’ He salutes you and takes a long drag, tipping his head back. You watch, transfixed, as the sunlight bounces off the lines of sweat criss-crossing down the strong column of his neck, and the hard bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Suddenly, you’re parched. But you don’t trust yourself to stay upright, let alone pour yourself a drink.

‘It’s hot today,’ Joel breaks the loaded silence, though it’s possible that it’s unilaterally so on your side.

‘Uh-huh,’ you croak, still holding onto the water jug like a shield.

He peers at you with a touch of mischief. ‘You ain’t gonna swoon or anythin’ are you?’

Probably. And definitely not for the reason he has in mind.

You attempt a weak smile that may have come off as a grimace. ‘I’ll try not to.’

Reassured, he nods towards the garlic patch. ‘C’mon. Let’s get our hands dirty, sweetheart.’

By the time the vegetable patch has been thoroughly picked and the baskets crammed full, the sun is high in the sky, the morning clouds burned off with the heat.

Joel isn’t the only one who’s sweating through his clothes - your light cotton top is now clinging uncomfortably to your skin, sweat dripping down your sternum and dampening the cups of your bra. You heave a sigh of relief when he helps you move the haul to a shaded corner near the porch where you have an outdoor sink and wheel hose installed.

Emptying the root vegetables into the sink, Joel steps back and casts a critical eye over the rain gutters that line the eaves of your house. Fingers spread over one jutting hip, he leans his weight on his right leg, the stance creating all kinds of angles that are completely unnecessary in this kind of heat.

He points at the leaves and branches that are clearly sticking out from the channels, but you’re only really interested in studying his large hands. The bumps and veins on the back of them, the watch with the broken face on his left wrist, the dirt coating his thick fingers, pushed under tidily trimmed nails. The logical thought that follows is how he would leave dark streaks on your white top when he pulls you in by the waist -

‘Looks like the gutters need cleanin’,’ Joel declares.

Well, the gutter your head is currently dunked in can certainly do with a good scrub.

‘Rainy season doesn’t start for another few months, they can wait.’

He uh-uh's sternly. ‘I’ve heard that before. Do you have a ladder?’

‘You really don’t have to -’ you protest, but he won’t hear it.

‘It’s no big deal, I’m sweaty anyway,’ he replies. ‘Besides, you’ll be doing me a favour keepin’ me occupied. I don’t pick Ellie up till three.’

You bite your lip. ‘But I feel bad working you so hard.’

Without skipping a beat, he winks. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart - I like workin’ for it.’

Jesus Christ. This man needs to be locked up and the key thrown to a colony of clickers.

The inner contractor in Joel comes out to play as he climbs deftly up the extension ladder propped up against the eaves, gloves on and a tarp bag tied to the top rung for collecting the debris. Discreetly, you shuffle around the freestanding sink so that you have a clear view of him as you turn on the water and start washing the dirt off the onions.

He’s starting close by, just a couple of feet away from you, patiently scooping out the dead leaves and twigs by the handful. Up on the ladder with his side to you, you’re eye level with the swell of his belly, which stretches the seams of the vest, and the underside of it peeks out every time he reaches up for the gutters. Your cheeks warm with the memory of how the soft folds felt against you, so warm and solid that you ache to reach out, push the flimsy vest up and nuzzle the tender skin with your nose -

It takes you a couple of minutes to realise that you’re not even pretending to be washing the onions anymore, the hose running in your idle grasp as you stare, head cocked to one side.

You don’t hear him when he turns to you. ‘Can pass me the hose?’

You stare dumbly back at him. ‘Huh?’

‘The hose, Pin,’ he repeats, a playful condescension in his smirk, like he knows exactly what you’ve been looking at. ‘That onion looks sparkly clean.’

You’re not sure what happened. One second you’re holding onto the hose with the intention of turning off the water before passing it to Joel, but your brain skips that crucial first step, and the next thing you know, you’re pointing it straight at him, spraying him in water from face to chest.

As he splutters, you shove the hose into the sink and screech, mortified. ‘Oh my god! I’m so sorry!’

You watch in horror as the water trickles from his hair, down his stubbled chin and onto his chest - okay, that’s a lie. It’s definitely not horror that’s twisting in your tummy and then much, much lower between your thighs.

And if you thought this man looked good sweaty, well - you’ve seen nothing yet.

He might as well put you out of your misery and take off his undervest right about now. It’s completely see-through, pebbled nipples and the firm ridges of his pecs showing through the wet fabric, rounded out by the endearing soft pouch of his belly.

He wears the early summer tan so well, and for the first time since the outbreak, you think about the swim club in your old neighbourhood. Watching the water drip off his skin, it’s not a stretch to imagine this man pulling himself out of the pool after a quick dip to cool down, before stretching out on a sunlounger to dry in the sun - all in slow motion, set to the track of a corny sax riff.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say on reflex, but the apology rings hollow with the way your gaze lingers over his chest, and he notices.

He chuckles, carding one hand through his wet hair to slick it back, standing taller under your eyes. ‘As I said - never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

Joel takes his time, clearing out all the blockages and hosing the gutters clean so that you don’t have to worry about them for another six months. He dumps the leaves and sticks in the compost post, rinses the soiled gloves and his hands clean, before taking his shirt off the washing line and heading into the blessed shade.

He finds you in the kitchen, back to the door, putting away clean plates and cutlery from the drying rack, porcelain knocking together and metal clanging.

This is the most he’s seen of you, in a tank top and shorts, bathed in light spilling in from the large windows that open out into the backyard. He sees touches of your workshop right here in the kitchen - dried herbs and seasoning in mismatched but tidy boxes on the shelves, knives organised by size on a magnetic knife block, plates and bowls arranged in neat stacks behind glass cabinets.

Not wanting to alarm you, he deliberately scrapes his shoe on the tiled floor to make his presence known.

Whipping around - and just a touch startled - you smile with a quiet hey, and Joel’s not sure if he’ll ever get over how the sweet shyness still clings to the curve of your lips despite the fact that he’s kissed you right there.

He stays by the door for now and says, ‘I put the ladder back, and the gutters are all done, but I spotted some shingles missing on the roof while I was up there. I’ll come back to fix ‘em some other time.’

‘Thank you so much Joel, but really, don’t worry about the roof. You’ve done enough.’

‘You basically got Ellie outta my hair every Saturday for the next few months, so I’ll have plenty of time to kill,’ he half-jokes.

A comfortable lull sets in, and he looks up at the ticking clock, surprised that it’s almost noon. Shifting his feet, he opens his mouth and is about to excuse himself when you blurt out, ‘I’m sorry I soaked you.’

The jury's out on who's more taken aback by your phrasing. Exasperated, you groan, ‘I did not mean to say that.’

Joel’s kept a respectful distance since he arrived at the house, the pliant weight of you in his arms and your taste on his tongue kept firmly at bay in the back of his mind, not wanting to bring up anything that would make you uncomfortable in the light of day. But now, he pushes himself off the threshold of the door and crosses the cosy kitchen, pleased that you stay put when he plants himself in front of you, toe to toe.

Brushing a finger under your chin so that you’re staring up at him, he deliberately pitches his voice low and gruff, the double entendre almost crude in its delivery. ‘Just so we’re clear, you can soak me any time, sweetheart, in any way you want.’

Your lips part and your gaze darkens, and he feels his body instinctively react, invisible threads reeling him bodily into you. When you speak, your voice quivers, his name at once a single-worded reprimand and a needy whine that takes him right back to his brother’s spare bedroom. ‘Joel -’

‘Yes, Pin?’ he baits you playfully, just like he did that night, taking one last step so that you’re crowded against the countertop, bookending you with his palms planted on the wooden surface.

Finally shedding that last bit of shyness holding you back, you retort with no real bite, ‘You’re such a tease, Miller.’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,’ he quips easily, his attention on your mouth. He hears your shaky intake of air, the whole moment suspended on tenterhooks as you skirt each other on the brink -

Just then, a breeze drifts in from the open window above the sink, providing instant relief from the humidity that hangs heavy in the air. All of a sudden, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s sweaty all over, so much so that he might actually smell.

Self-conscious, he clears his throat and murmurs ‘I should probably go, I need a shower and a change of clothes -’

‘You can shower here,’ you interrupt, stumbling over your words in your haste. ‘I have a spare shirt somewhere.’

You don’t need to ask him twice.

He smiles. ‘Sounds good, sweetheart.’

Your ensuite bathroom, like what he has seen of your house, is clean and organised. There’s a neat stockpile of soap bars in the cupboard, and he spots the familiar bottles of regulation shampoo and toothpaste that the town mass produces.

The water is plenty hot as he efficiently lathers himself top to bottom and front to back, but the pressure is a bit weak for his liking and can be easily fixed. Something else to add to the list.

The towel you left on the rack is soft and smells like the sun. Patting himself dry and rubbing it through his hair, he wipes away the condensation off the mirror above the sink. He peers at his reflection, ruminating that it’s time for a shave, and pushes back his wet hair so the strands don’t get in his eyes.

Out of his clothes, only his jeans are passably dry, so he forgoes his boxers and pulls them on, carefully doing up the zipper. Using his shirt as a sling, he bundles up all the dirty clothes and opens the bathroom door.

He catches you coming into the bedroom as he steps out, and your jaw drops at the sight of him in just his jeans before you slap your palms dramatically over your eyes, the tshirt you’re holding onto covering your whole face and muffling your voice. ‘I’m so sorry! I should’ve knocked!’

Joel chuckles at your reaction. ‘Sweetheart, it's your house. And I’m not exactly naked.’

Lowering your hands sheepishly, you still clutch the tshirt to your chest like a security blanket, admitting, ‘Sorry, I just - I just realised I’ve never had a man in here before.’

Something wraps itself around his stomach and pulls, and it takes him a beat to put a name to it because it’s been so long. It’s possessiveness that rushes through his veins and goes straight to his head, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his voice from wavering. He demands, ‘Never?’

‘Never.’

He lets the word wash over him, appeasing the beast in him for now. With a slow nod, he takes three measured steps towards you, stopping just an arm’s length away. Gently coaxing you to let go of the purple tshirt, he snorts at the huge Lakers logo blazoned across the front.

He quips, ‘I’m more of a Longhorns fan myself, actually.’

The tension cracks, and you grin back, ‘Well, not anymore.’

After your confession, it’s probably redundant, but he wants to hear you say it. Flashing the tshirt at you, he asks, ‘Old boyfriend’s?’

It’s the most personal question that’s been exchanged between you so far by a mile, and it’s probably none of his business, but you can’t explain why your pulse spikes at the way his normally warm gaze hardens with something unfamiliar.

‘No,’ you answer. ‘I keep some of the stock here when there’s not enough room at the shop, that’s all.’

Joel rasps, ‘Good.’

With that one syllable, his shoulders visibly relax, suddenly drawing your attention to his topless form, which you’ve been too mortified to actually look at. It’s a lot to take in, and even though you’ve seen most of him already, there is one conspicuous part that you haven’t yet -

But before your eyes can trail that low, Joel turns. ‘Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll just -’

You’re slow to catch onto why he trails off in the middle of the sentence, still far too distracted by his general state of undress to notice until he’s already made his way to the top of your neatly made bed. And then you see it…

The flannel peeking out from underneath the duvet.

Oh. Fuck.

With an almost flippant flick of his wrist, Joel peels back the corner of the bedspread. Wordlessly, he stares down at the red plaid shirt he lent you at the baby shower, tucked snugly in your bed, buried half under your pillow.

He stares at it for so long that you interrupt the silence for once.

‘I’ve been meaning to return it,’ you squeak, hands flailing awkwardly, desperately wanting something to hold onto. ‘I just - forgot.’

Joel half-turns to you, arching an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been keepin’ it in your bed?’

Backed into a corner - and you’re not proud of it - you lie. Outrageously. ‘I don’t know how it got in there.'

He picks up the shirt by the collar. It’s wrinkled all over and obviously worn in. He smirks, ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

You’re this close to swivelling around and making a break for it, but as soon as your axis of balance tilts backwards, Joel grabs you by the wrist and pulls you in, hauling you firmly into his bare chest.

‘You’ve been wearin’ it to sleep, haven’t you?’ he asks in a tone that brooks no argument.

Your fingers curl into his chest, his skin blazing warm under your palms. There’s no point fibbing anymore, and you admit, ‘Yes.’

His voice is hoarse when he asks, ‘You wear anythin’ underneath it, sweetheart?’

You hold your breath for one long moment, the tension in the room swelling so quickly that your ears pop. Eventually, under his patient yet heated stare, you shake your head, lips sealed.

His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

‘No bra?’ he prompts.

‘No bra,’ you parrot back.

His jaw clenches so tightly that you’re surprised he manages to articulate his next question. ‘No panties?’

‘No panties -’

You barely get the word out before Joel is kissing you, pushing the syllables right back into your mouth until you swallow them with a whimper.

And then he’s pulling back, growling against yours, ‘And what do you do naked in my shirt, hmm?’

You stutter, ‘I - I think about you -’

An undignified squeal escapes you when he suddenly spins you around, your back hitting the bed, denying you the chance to catch your breath. The ceiling fan turns directly above you, but it does nothing to quell the heat between your bodies as Joel clambers over you on his hands and knees, sliding his mouth over yours again in a hard kiss.

You always thought your bed was a decent size, but now, with the bulk of this man hovering over you, you’re not so sure anymore. His ridiculously wide shoulders fill your entire field of vision, and even though he’s holding himself up with his forearms by your ears, you can almost feel the full weight of him through sheer anticipation of his touch.

His heated words brush by your ear, making you shudder. ‘Tell me what you think about, sweetheart.’

‘Your arms, your shoulders -’ you hesitate, dropping your voice shyly. ‘Your belly.’

Joel looks taken aback. ‘My belly?’

You duck your head almost guiltily. ‘Yes.’

His brows draw together in an endearingly confused frown. ‘Why?’

‘That time in the workshop, when we met, you were sucking it in so hard you could hardly breathe - but you don’t anymore.’

The dots connect, and his lips part in an oh. ‘I didn’t even realise.’

‘I know. That’s why it’s sexy,’ you point out.

He looks at you incredulously, as if you’ve lost your mind. ‘My belly is sexy?’

You grin. ‘Yes, and your confidence. You walk differently now, you know.’

He makes a noise at the back of his throat, a self-satisfied smirk tilting his lips upwards. ‘You been watchin’ me?’

‘Maybe,’ you tease.

You exhale long and heavy through your nose when he sucks delicately on your bottom lip, opening you up so that he can dip inside, stealing a taste of your tongue with his.

‘Been thinkin’ about you all week, sweetheart,’ he whispers, trailing fire across your cheek and the hollow behind your ear.

‘I haven’t seen you around at all,’ you whine, tipping your head back as he nudges the tip of his proud nose down your throat.

‘I know, it took three fuckin’ days to clean up after the party,’ he complains, his disgruntled tone prompting a giggle from you. ‘Never again.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. There will be plenty of birthday parties to look forward to, Uncle Joel -’

An open-mouthed kiss on the side of your neck catches you off guard, the unfamiliar texture of the wet suction and scrape of his teeth jolts you clean off the mattress, sending you body slamming into his ribcage.

Joel hums, pleased at your reaction. ‘So sensitive. I’ve barely touched you yet, sweetheart.’

It’s immediate, the shame that burns under your skin at his remark despite knowing he doesn’t mean anything by it, and Joel frowns at the way you stiffen under him. Regret colours his words as he cups your cheek. ‘Pin, I’m sorry, that came out wrong -’

‘No, that’s the thing. You’re not wrong,’ you interrupt with a shake of your head. There’s no point denying it - you’re a grown woman, and there’s something fundamentally embarrassing about losing touch with that part of yourself over the years. ‘I - it’s been so long, I don’t even know my own body anymore.’

His eyes dip downwards and slowly, over the curve of your breasts and the arch of your back. With an encouraging smile, he argues, ‘I’m not sure about that. Looks like your body’s reactin’ perfectly to me.’

Your lips twitch despite yourself. ‘You’re just saying that to get into my pants.’

He takes the unexpected turn in the conversation in stride and runs with it. ‘Trust me, sweetheart, if I were tryin’, I’d already be in them.’

‘You’re such an ass, Joel Miller.’

His roguish grin has you squirming and fisting the sheets underneath you. ‘I dunno. Somethin’ tells me you like it.’

Wrapping one palm on the back of his neck, you drag him into you again, relishing in the weight of him as he pins you to the bed with the broad frame of his shoulders. He moans into your mouth, claiming it with deep strokes of his tongue, while his calloused palms sneak under the hem of your shirt and pull you into him by the small of your back.

Even as your hips buck, begging for friction, Joel holds back, propping himself up on his knees to keep a tenuous grip on his self-control. Pulling back from your lips with a wet pop, he assures you through heavy breaths, ‘We can stop any time, sweetheart. Just say the word.’

Your response comes fast and sure, but he can read the hesitance between the lines, ‘I - I don’t want to stop.’

He presses a patient kiss to your lips, but backs away before you can deepen it. ‘How about this - we’ll flip you over so that you’re on top, and you decide what you want to do. Is that ok?’

You pause to consider his proposal, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip - he’s this close to kissing you right there and then. You ask shyly, ‘And it’s ok if we - you know, just make out?’

He smiles. ‘I can do with some good old-fashioned neckin’.’

‘Ok then -’

You yelp when Joel turns you over without warning, the sudden movement making your head spin. Sitting up against the headboard, he drags you in his lap and asks, ‘Alright?’

You nod with a nervous smile. It’s intimidating, being so close to him that there’s nowhere else to look but into his thoughtful eyes that are watching you for any signs of discomfort. Catching your breath, you settle into the moment and realise that you’re straddling him, hands clinging onto his shoulders, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. His belly is warm and soft where he’s pressed up against you, but lower, nudging insistently between your legs -

Joel is hard.

The revelation robs you of air, want and need rushing like blood to your head, and you stiffen, not knowing what to do.

Joel catches on - you’re beginning to think that nothing ever escapes him - and he reminds you, ‘Just kissin’, ok, sweetheart?’

Snapping out of your freeze frame, you nod, ‘Yes. Ok.’

Giving you somewhere to start, he prompts, ‘Where do you want my hands?’

Tugging on his wrists, you watch his jaw go slack when you place his palms squarely on your ass, where your denim shorts hardly cover the top of your thighs. He lets out a lewd moan at the way your soft curves fill his hands, fingers squeezing and kneading greedily, and you push your hips back into his contact.

‘Not so shy after all, hmm?’ he rasps.

You preen at his praise, and riding the wave of boldness, you tip forward and press your lips to Joel’s before you could overthink it. Over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear him suck in a shaky breath, and you feel the deep groan in his throat taper into a whimper when you swipe your tongue into his mouth.

You’re completely unprepared for the power the sound unleashes in you.

Somewhere in your consciousness, a door is cracked open, and memory crackles at the edges of your mind. Each shuddered breath shared, every slide of skin on skin, brings to the surface what you thought you’d forgotten.

Your fingers burrow into the still wet locks at his nape, earning a loud moan from Joel when you pull on the grays that have distracted you on more than one occasion. He nips his way sloppily down your neck, trailing spit and beard burn as he goes, while your palms skate over his chest and down, down, down until your fingernails drag over the pliant folds of his tummy, hanging over the waistband of his jeans.

‘Sweetheart,’ he groans brokenly at the contact, forehead knocking into yours.

Spreading your fingers over soft flesh, you choke on an inhale when he bodily rocks into your palms. Your thumb catches the hollow of his belly button, fingers tenderly squeezing the creases and dimples of his belly. His eyes crack open under tightly knitted eyebrows, vulnerability etched in every line on his face.

Something shifts - something that neither of you can take back. And suddenly, it’s not just kissing anymore.

Caught somewhere between writhing instinctively under his touch and a deliberate pursuit of friction, your hips find a rhythm that has the seat of your panties quickly twisting and dampening as you grind on the erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Blunt nails bite into your thighs as Joel growls, ‘Shit, sweetheart. That’s it.’

You want to bury your face in his neck, feeling too wanton in the way you’re panting in needy whimpers, but he preempts that on no uncertain terms. ‘I want to see everythin’. Look at me.’

You do just that - you can’t deny this man even if you tried - watching him watch you with his pupils blown wide and wild, wetting his bottom lip the same time his eyes drop to your tits, as if he can see right through the thin fabric. He doesn’t touch you anywhere else though, his hands staying where you put them. You can feel his grip dig harder and harder into the swell of your ass, but he doesn’t try to change your rhythm, giving you free rein to ride him any way you need.

When your peripheral vision starts to go, you know it’s not a coincidence that your thoroughly soaked panties shift and strain against your clit, pinching it just so that you cry out, hips faltering.

Joel bares his teeth, and you feel his hips rut upwards into you, his restraint slipping. ‘There you go. You’re close, aren’t you?’

You can only nod, frantically grinding into him now, your whole mind narrowing until the only thought that remains is chasing that high that you can almost taste. Everything swells, electricity fills the air, his name a sacred chant on your tongue as you claw at his back, teetering precariously on the brink of something that promises to devastate you.

‘Joel, Joel, Joel -’

He catches you when you break - you fling yourself at him, knocking into him so hard that the back of his head hits the wall, but he doesn’t even flinch. Tucked safely into the crook of his neck, you whine and wail as you thrash in his hold, and his nostrils flare at your scent. He can smell you, he can smell the slick leaking from your pussy, humid and heady in the air between you, making his mouth water as he aches to taste you - all of you.

One day.

Right now, the hinge of his jaw almost cracks as you milk the last remnants of your orgasm with a needy swivel of your hips, rubbing against his cock at an angle that makes his vision swim, and he knows he’s too far gone. His control slips like shifting sands, and a primal instinct takes over as he bucks roughly into you, fingertips leaving imprints in your skin that you will feel for days after.

‘Oh fuck, sweetheart, wait, I’m - shit, I’m gonna -’

When it hits him, it’s fucking relentless - he cums and cums until his voice goes hoarse with your name, until it feels like his abdomen would cave in and collapse, spurting and spilling until it feels like he’s turned inside out. It goes everywhere, thick, milky strands filling the gaps in his jeans and sliding down his legs in a sticky mess, and he slumps bonelessly into the headboard, panting against your lips as he catches his breath.

Sweetly, gently, he tilts his chin up just enough to kiss you, his nose nudging your cheek intimately when he pulls away, his lungs too deprived of air to keep going. He winces when you shift above him, knowing that you can feel the wet spot pooling under your bare thighs.

Joel breaks the sluggish silence first, cracking a grin. ‘So much for just makin’ out.’

You clumsily climb off his lap and crash land sideways onto the mattress. ‘Is that a complaint, Joel Miller?’

He drapes a heavy arm over you and pulls back you flush into him. ‘Well, these jeans are fuckin’ ruined. I want a refund.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t accept cum-stained returns. Store policy.’

He pffts. ‘Damnit. Should’ve read the fine print.’

You grin. ‘Well, at least there's something deeply poetic about cumming in the jeans that I picked out for you.’

‘Touché, sweetheart,’ he grunts and presses a kiss to your forehead. Glancing down at the unmistakable wet patch on the denim, he asks hopefully, ‘Any chance you got some pants I can borrow?’

Ellie bounces her leg irritably, hunched over on the stairs exactly where Joel was sitting this morning. Where the fuck is he? He’s twenty minutes late, and he had the nerve to get all huffy when she lied about the start time today. Unbelievable.

Moodily looking left and right, there’s still no sign of him. She’s about to give up and wait for him at home when something conspicuously purple comes to a stop in front of her.

Her jaw hits the floor.

‘Oh. My. God.’

She’s never been high before, but she’s pretty sure this is the stuff hallucinations are made of.

This being Joel Miller in a purple tshirt with a tacky logo she doesn’t recognise printed on the front and khaki cargo shorts that cut off at the knees, holding a basket of vegetables that she’s pretty sure he doesn’t eat.

With a roll of his eyes, he snaps, ‘Shut your mouth, you’re trappin’ flies.’

Pasting on the most obnoxious grin she can muster, Ellie croons, ‘Man, don’t you look pretty.’

Turning on his heel, Joel starts walking without looking back. ‘Shut up.’

Jogging to keep up, she cackles, ‘Hey, did you fall into a wormhole and went shopping at a farmer’s market in 1999?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You really should wear shorts more often, y’know, show off those knees. And purple really is your colour, Barney!’

Joel frowns, shooting her a sidelong glare. ‘How the hell do you know who Barney is?’

Ellie shrugs. ‘What do you think they teach us at school?’

He’s the one who starts it. The quake in his shoulders would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but nowadays, there’s not much that he can hide from her. As usual, she giggles first, which trails into a squeal when Joel gives her a shove on the back, sending her stumbling over her shoes.

‘Fuck you, man!’ she snickers and basically rugby tackles him, but he barely budges, lips pulling back into a toothy grin.

Across the street, unbeknownst to the pair, Tommy smiles to himself as he watches his big brother laugh, really laugh - the kind that has him doubling over and gasping for air through watery eyes. For the first time since the world ended, he looks up at the sky with a reassuring nod, and he knows deep down - Joel will be just fine.

Notes: You guys continue to blow me away with your support - I cannot be more grateful for all the reblogs, asks and interaction with my silly Behind the Seams posts and random updates. Thank you so so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you think ❤️

I will be having a think over the next few weeks about where Seams will go from here. This chapter wraps up the first mini story arc, and I'll be dedicating August to wrapping up my Palomino series, so it will give me some time and distance to mull over what's next for Joel and Pin. I'm also a few followers away from a big milestone, so I might have something fun planned! 🥰

#fuckyeahseams #seams iv #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine

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barcaatthemoon · 3 months

Text

the truth || jenni hermoso x reader ||

on a night out with the team, the truth comes out about your breakup with jenni.

you didn't know where to look. the room felt so tense to you. it was like every few seconds your eyes drifted over to where jenni was drinking with alexia, mapi, and leila. you had left barcelona first, so that was on you. afterwards, jenni ran away to mexico, which was much further away than you were in germany. however, you had left first, which meant everybody blamed you for the way things happened.

jenni swore up and down that she had left barcelona for reasons unrelated to you, but everybody knew that was bullshit. a drunken voicemail you had yet to delete was all the evidence you needed to call jenni a liar. apparently, your national squad teammates didn't even need to know about voicemail to push the blame on you. now, you felt like you were an outcast in the group that had once been your family.

"another please," you said to the bartender as he walked your way. the club was packed full of people in your team's circle. friends and girlfriends, including jenni's new one from mexico. she had found somebody to move on with, but you hadn't been able to get your mind off of her.

technically, the breakup had been her fault. she was the one who had come to you saying that it was a bad idea. jenni had rattled off reason after reason as to why you couldn't be together anymore. all the while, you had fiddled with the engagement ring in your pocket. you waited patiently until jenni's tirade was finished, ignoring the smell of alcohol on her breath as she ranted on and on. once that was over, you had taken the ring out of your pocket and handed it to her unceremoniously.

jenni had tried contacting you for two weeks before she gave up. the ring found its way back to you through alexia the same day that you had elected not to renew your barcelona contract. she looked disappointed, but you wondered what story jenni had spun for her. you wondered what jenni even remembered from that night because from the way that she acted, you doubted she realized who instigated the fight in the first place.

"how many have you had?" even in your drunken state, alexia's stern tone was unmistakable. you turned towards her with your new drink in hand, but once you lost the support of the bar, you nearly fell forward. alexia plucked the drink out of your hand as she caught you.

"hey, that's mine," you slurred. alexia cursed under her breath as she pulled you onto your feet. you tried reaching for your drink, nearly causing the both of you to tumble to the floor. alexia caught herself, but dropped you onto the ground in the process. you hit the ground with a heavy thud, seemingly unbothered about laying in a puddle of your spilled drink. however, you were very upset about your drink.

"jesus christ," alexia swore as you broke out into a fit of tears. she tried to pull you up onto your feet, but it was no use. you weren't moving because you didn't want to. "(y/n), get up. come on, you're making a scene."

"leave me here, it's not like any of you like me anymore." you knew that you were acting like a child, but you couldn't help it. the floodgates had opened up and everything was spilling out. alexia sighed as she motioned a couple of the more sober girls over to help her pick you up. they all managed to get you out of the club together, which had not been an easy task.

"i've never seen her like this before," you heard one of them say quietly. they all stood behind you as you sat on a bench. you could hear them, every single word as they went on and on like you weren't there.

"you don't think this is because of jenni, do you?" you were pretty sure that one was leila. alexia sighed as she looked at you, very obviously a shell of your former self. if any of them had been paying attention to you, they all would have noticed the ways that you had been changing.

"i don't know, but i'm going to get her back to the hotel. please keep an eye on jenni for me," alexia told them. she scooped you up as she helped you onto your feet, the two of you stumbling down the sidewalk together towards your team's hotel. "what happened (y/n)?"

"i drank," you muttered quietly. alexia wondered if you indulged like this often. you had been playing well at your club, but you'd been a bit sluggish during the practices earlier in the week. your name had gone from the starting xi to the reserves quickly. if you weren't careful, they'd take your name off of the roster completely. although, as alexia half-carried you, she wondered if maybe that was what you wanted.

"how much do you usually drink?" alexia asked. she was afraid of the answer. you had once been like a little sister to her, and maybe she had let her closeness with jenni distract her from the fact that she cared about you too. most of the team had followed suit and iced out the younger player because of the obvious pain that their star striker was in.

"until i don't remember anymore," you admitted. "it never works. i always remember what she said to me."

"what who said?" alexia knew the answer already. she had picked up the pieces of jenni the morning after. jenni hadn't completely opened up, but she didn't remember everything. all jenni had known that morning was that the two of you had fought and you threw a ring at her, claiming you couldn't believe you almost let yourself propose.

"jenni. i love her, and she hurt me. you don't hurt someone you love like that." you dropped down onto your knees on the sidewalk. alexia struggled to get you back up to your feet after that. she opted for not hurting herself trying to take care of you and decided to call a couple of teammates to come and get you. she had expected mapi and leila to join her, and they had shown up, but with the addition of jenni.

"oh, mi amor," jenni sighed as she saw the sight of you. internally, you were battling between running from her and running right into her arms. the part of you that wanted her won out first, and you found yourself crawling on the sidewalk towards her. your other teammates frowned at the sight, never having seen you like that for anybody. jenni knelt down and opened her arms, unable to deny you anything in the moment.

"they hate me, it's awful," you cried into her arms. jenni wrapped her arms around you as she held you. "they all hate me because you left. they think you left because i did, but i only left because you didn't want me anymore. i want you so bad it hurts, but you don't love me anymore. i want to hate you, but the only person i can hate is myself. it makes me so angry."

"i'm sorry," jenni apologized. she looked around at her teammates for help, but none of them were sure what to do. she pulled you up to your feet and handed you off to alexia and leila. they got you back to the hotel and safely tucked into mapi's bed for the night.

"jenni, who broke up with who?" mapi asked as she glanced down at her younger teammate. everybody had a few reservations whenever jenni announced to the team that the two of you were together, but they never could have imagined it go as badly as it had.

"i-i think i broke up with her. i don't really know, it's all kind of fuzzy," jenni admitted. mapi's face hardened with a look of anger. jenni knew that whatever came her way was deserved, it had been a few months coming at this point. "i wanted to make up with her, but she wouldn't talk to me. after our fight, all she said was that she was going to germany."

"for (y/n)'s sake, and yours, fix this," mapi ordered. jenni knew that she really did need to figure out a way to do that, but she had no idea where to even begin. you avoided her at all costs, and there was a good chance that a few of the younger players would keep jenni from you on their own. they may have followed in the elder players' footsteps, but leaving you behind had not been an easy decision for any of them.

#jenni hermoso imagine #jenni hermoso x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months

Text

Wool Over My Eyes

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Mike always says you have such trouble getting up in the morning. You don't intend to take so long to wake, but Mike is quite confident the solution lays just at his fingertips- and lips.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no use of gendered pronouns, no genitalia specification, light bondage, pet names, dirty talk, fingering, oral (reader recieving), cum swallowing, morning sex, light breeding kink, recording sex, dacryphillia, light choking, switch! Mike, switch! Reader, facial, age-gap, interrupted sex, barely proofread and over the course of three days after my shifts right before I went to bed (cuz we die like men)

Notes: I love you gullible fucks.

"C'mere here, sweet thing."

I groan as Mike rolls me onto my side, his lips finding my cheek that has been textured from the blanket that imprinted itself upon my skin as I slept restlessly through the night. It had only been a couple hours ago that I'd finally found sleep, and it doesn't even feel like five minutes since I'd actually sunk into it.

"Five more minutes," I groan, my words slurred with sleep as I press my back further against Mike's intoxicatingly warm and inviting front, hardly even noticing anything else about my surroundings as I begin to drift back into sleep once more.

"You said five minutes an hour ago," Mike gently chides into my ear, his voice almost a full octave lower and rough with his own sleep, probably. My hand automatically raises to swipe lazily at his lips which graze so lightly against the shell of my ear, his breath tickling my skin enough to irritate my tired mind. "It's time to wake up."

"Mm," I moan in a somewhat childlike manner. He chuckles at this, his lips once more finding my cheek as his hands begin to peel the blanket away from me, slowly exposing my chest mostly.

"Don't," I groan in a soft, high voice, the cold air of the room beginning to stiffen certian parts of my body. Such as my back, shoulders.

"Be nice," Mike chuckles as his lips trail lazily closer to my own, his hand satisfied with how exposed my body is now and beginning to reverse its trail, now grazing his fingertips gently along the soft cotton of my shirt that still keeps my chest covered.

"Make me," I try to snap, too drugged with sleep to carry any venom in my voice.

Mike's lips find mine in an instant, his tongue diving into my mouth as he suddenly moves his hand to my hair, tugging at it almost harshly as a small whine escapes me from the sudden aggression. He moans into the kiss, his other hand wrapping around my throat ever so gently as our lips slide together, slick with his spit, making me pant against his kiss.

"Don't make me be the bad guy," Mike says against my lips when he pulls away for a moment. His head ducks down to tease at my neck, biting into it softly before he returns to my mouth, slipping his tongue inside of it once more and moaning loudly as he does.

Our kisses are not graceful, I'll admit. They're messy, hard, wet with thick desire as his hand trails to and from my neck, spreading across my chest until his calloused hand eventually dives under my shirt, searching for a stiff nipple to play with as he pulls away from me once more, his eyes glazed with want and desperation as he watches me closely, a lazy smile upon his lips.

"Make those pretty sounds for me," Mike pleads breathily as he pinches particularly hard on my nipple. A short gasp escapes me, my cheeks turning red as my eyes flutter shut once more.

"Hey," Mike says in a firmer voice, lips quickly sealing onto mine once more as his tongue slips against mine needingly before he quickly pulls away. "Stay awake."

"I am awake," I pout softly. He tugs on my nipple again, forcing a small cry from me as he bites my bottom lip.

"Don't lie," Mike warns in a low, rough, almost growling voice. "You know I hate it when you lie."

It's not a lie!... Though admittedly I could see how it would be easy to slip into such bliss as Mike uses me. It's a somewhat arousing thought, the idea of him fucking me to sleep.

"I'm recording, you know," Mike teases as his other hand slips from my hair to the other side of my chest, both of my nipples now being abused by the older man as I pant openly, my hips finding his thick thigh between my legs. "Figured I could use the proof that you just don't like waking up in the morning to see if you'll finally listen to me."

"I listen to you," I protest. His nails scratch my nipples, making me loudly cry out at the touch.

"I said. Don't. Lie," Mike reminds me. "God, its like you want to be punished."

The idea makes my legs pull together in want, my hips dragging deliciously against Mike's thigh as I moan openly, wanting for nothing more than what he'd just suggested.

"You like that, pretty toy?" Mike asks softly against my ear, his teeth nipping at my lobe while one of his hands roughly grabs my chest, the other hand swirling his thumb in quick circles around my aching nipple. Fuck, Jesus. I could cum like this and I wouldn't protest.

"Maybe I just won't touch you," Mike says low in my ear, his voice predatory as I quicken my hips against his thigh which presses harder against me. "You seem to be eager to cum just like this. So easy, so fun to play with."

Mike shoves his tongue into my mouth once more, his hands shifting. One to my throat, one to my hip. He guides my body to quicken its pace against him, his hand occasionally smacking hard against my ass and even playing with the muscle as his eyes drift open to watch me.

"You like being my favorite toy, don't you?" Mike asks in a tired, low and aroused voice as he smirks. I nod slowly, stupid and sleepy against him. Mike smacks my ass again, grabbing and jiggling it roughly after. "Open your eyes when I'm talking to you," he commands. Stupidly I obey, eager to please him as I begin to feel my stomach constrict in pleasure at his touch.

"There you go. Good plaything. You're just so eager to please, aren't you?" Mike asks in a patronizing tone, leaning forward to graze his lips against mine. I move to press harder against them, but he pulls away, still leaving them close enough to tease me, waiting for me to try to swoop in again, then pulling away far enough I whine as I realize his evil game.

"You like older men playing with you, admit it," Mike says in a cocky tone, his hand dipping under my sweatpants to play with my bare ass. I moan in response to his words and his touch, but it doesn't seem to be enough.

"Say it," Mike orders softly, smiling at the sight of me. I blush, shaking my head slightly as I glance away. Mike grabs my ass roughly again, pressing his thigh harder against me as the look in his eye shifts to something slightly darker. "Say it."

I shake my head again, an unwilling smile growing more as Mike grabs harder, leaning in close enough to whisper threateningly, but ready to pull away if I dared to take advantage of the opportunity and kiss him.

"I like older men playing with me," I say in a soft, quick whisper before he can make another threat. His eyes turn gentle once again, and he drags me into another kiss, sweet and loving while he begins to shift his body to hover above mine, moving his thigh much to my displeasure.

"Look at that," Mike praises softly. "You can be so good when you want to be, can't you?"

Mike leans down to press his lips against my neck, biting roughly into it and making me cry out. He stays there for almost a minute, ensuring that there will be a dark bite mark obvious on my skin for the next week before he moves to the other side of my neck, repeating this process. I squirm underneath of him, moaning and crying out pathetically. His hard cock grazes against my leg, and once he finds it he begins to grind against it, releasing his own soft noises as he begins to lap at my blooming marks with his warm, wide tongue.

"Fuck me!" I whine against Mike's ear, nipping at his lobe and panting openly as my hand descends downwards, my fingers just brushing past the waistband of my pants when his own hand carefully but tightly grabs my wrist, moving to pin it just above my head as he uses my body to masturbate.

Mike doesn't respond to my plea. He simply moans as his hips increase in tempo, making it obvious how close he is already. Part of me wonders if this was meant to be a reenactment of his dream last night, or if maybe he'd been fucking himself beside me as I slept for who knows how long before he finally woke me in a moment of desperation. Both ideas make me faint with want.

I use my free hand to snatch a clump of dark curls on the back of his head, pulling them roughly to force him away from my neck. The pain makes him cry out in a deliciously broken voice, his hips stuttering before resuming in a slightly increased pace as his eyes shift to meet mine, a bright red coat of blush decorating his peaceful face, creating the perfect image of such a beautiful, desperate man.

"I asked you to fuck me," I seethe, tugging harshly on his hair again, making him cry out once more. His cock twitches against my leg, then suddenly he begins trying to crawl down my body, his hands grabbing at whatever flesh he can find as he bites harshly at my being, his slick tongue quick to soothe the marks as his amber eyes watch me pleadingly, begging for praise that I don't offer to him.

Mike's hands paw at my pants, dragging them down my hips without even undoing the tight drawstring that keeps the waistline fitted to me properly. The moment I feel the cold air begin to sink into my newly exposed skin, Mike's lips are quick to warm me once again, his tongue diving between my legs as he laps greedily, moaning as he teases my entrance with it. The wet muscle probs at me, tempting me to grab his hair and shove him against me while I ride his face, but I decide instead to pet his hair in non-verbal praise, driving him wild as his blush deepens. His large hands cup my ass, raising my hips off the bed slightly and spreading my legs wider, allowing him easier access to me.

"Stop being a tease," I moan lightly, digging my hand deeper into his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. His voice cracks as he moans, slipping his tongue into me obediently as he plays with my ass. His own hips fuck the bed, slight trembling obvious as his lashes flutter shut, spit beginning to dribble down his chin as he quickly slides his tongue out and in, swirling it around inside of me and playing with my entrance every time he slips out.

I close my own eyes, pleasure making my back stiff as I hold his head between my thighs, hyperfocusing on the feeling of him tongue fucking me, the knot in my stomach tightening with every move, big or small. The noises he makes as he eats me out are improper, through and through. His voice makes insanity inducing vibrations that spread throughout me with each pathetic, high pitched moan. The bed creeks with every thrust of his hips against the old mattress. A part of me wonders if he's being so vocal for the tape currently recording us, paranoid that the cassette player on his nightstand may not be able to hear us properly. Another part of me likes to think that he's just this into it, so driven insane by my body that he just simply can't help the noises of pleasure that escape him. The idea makes me grip his hair tighter, my hips beginning to thrust harder against his face, making his voice rise in pitch as his eyes drift open, glazed and stupid while he admires me. His nails dig into my ass, his tongue hardly moving out of me now as he fucks me.

"You like it when I fuck your face like this?" I ask him, watching his blush grow as he nods against me, his hips quickening as I thrust harder into his mouth, my thighs tightening around his head. He looks so pretty like this, so utterly desperate.

"You want me to cum on your tongue?" I ask him, tugging his hair harder. He shakes his head, swirling his tongue around inside of me, making me groan lowly. "Where should I cum then?"

Mike slips his tongue out of me quickly, raising his head slightly as he speaks. "On my face," he says sweetly before diving back between my legs, lapping greedily at my entrance while I moan.

"Oh," I drawl slowly, letting him play with me while I watch. "You want me to paint that pretty face?"

Mike moans against me, sliding his tongue into me once more as he ruts against the bed, his eyes closing once more as he puts his all into the act.

"Do you like warming me up for your cock like this?" I ask him, giggling when he dives deeper inside of me in response. "Such a good way to get me ready to breed."

This seems to do the trick for Mike, his eyes snapping open to watch me as he fucks my hole desperately, moaning and panting as his tongue slides in and out, slick noises echoing throughout the room with each movement.

My breathing hitches in my throat as I fuck his face roughly, my stomach feeling tight as my orgasm edges closer, my teeth digging into my lower lip.

"I'm not gonna last much longer," I warn Mike, thrusting harder onto his rapid tongue while one of my hands begin to play with my now neglected nipple. One of Mike's hands quickly finds the other, both of us now playing with my chest to make me whine as I edge ever close, my eyes squeezing shut as I focus on my climax, my voice ragged and high as I moan for Mike to quicken his hand. He obeys immediately, his thumbnail flicking at the hard bud while his other hand squeezes my ass, nails digging into the cheek while he moans into me. I steal a look downwards at him, locking eyes with his now possessive glare while he watches me with eager satisfaction, silently begging me to come undone onto his face. And with such a beautiful, demanding man fucking me like this, who am I to say no?

"I'm coming," I stutter as the tight knot in my stomach begins to snap. "Fuck, Jesus, I'm coming!"

Mike moans in harmony with me, eyes widening in excitement as I pull him as tight against me as I can. My own eyes flutter shut, my hand clamping down over my mouth to muffle my sharp cries, my body trembling as my muscles stiffen, pleasure ripping through me to the point I clamp my thighs tight around Mike's head, pumping into his mouth with such vigor I'm almost worried he may not be able to breathe properly. But he doesn't ask me to stop, his pants soft and desperate as his own body shakes.

The force of my orgasm takes me by surprise, relaxation kicking in hard enough that when I close my eyes, it's hard to open them again. With each tremble from the waves pulsing through me I'm coaxed back into sleep, my muscles slowly relaxing one by one, my mind shutting off, and it doesn't take long before I can hear a deep voice in my ear, whining something much too loud for my tastes.

"Mm," I groan once again. "C'mere, come cuddle with m-"

"I asked you, very politely, to stay awake," Mike whispers in my ear. My eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly to adjust once more to the morning light. "What on earth am I going to do with you?"

In Mike's hand is a small washcloth, wiping away at the leftover cum I had painted his face with. Mike's hand is rubbing my thigh as he grazes his cock over my hole, teasing me as punishment.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, a blush rising to my cheeks as I try to put on my best act of innocence so maybe he'll skip the torture and go straight to fucking me.

"No," Mike drawls, his hand inching closer. "No, I don't think you are."

The tip of Mike's cock presses against my entrance, threatening to dip in, making me moan desperately.

"Shush," Mike soothes me, wrapping his hand around my throat slowly, finger by finger. "Don't wake the rest of the house."

Mike slips his middle finger inside of me, pumping quickly and hard. I whimper quietly, which seems to be too loud for his taste.

"I said be quiet," Mike whispers patiently as he carefully squeezes my throat. I try to reach for his hair only to discover my hands have been bound to the bedframe by some sort of cloth.

"You like my tie, sweet thing?" Mike asks sweetly, slamming harder into me. I can hear the increasing volume of the smacking inside me as he fucks me with his hand, sounding so delicious as he curls his fingers just right. Mike leans in closer, running his tongue over the bottom of my lip before shoving it inside of my mouth to claim me once again. I moan loudly, giving in fully to desire as he has his way with me. Mike pulls away instantly, choking me hard enough my airflow is slightly restricted. His ring finger slips inside of me right before he begins to slam inside of me with all of his strength, making me gasp pathetically while he ruins my tightening hole, my legs trembling as I arch my back, pressing against his smooth tie. I wrap the longer end around my palm, tugging at it in desperation. Mike bites down on my neck again, and I'm about to cry out when the doorbell buzzes throughout the living room, making us both jolt in surprise at the sudden interruption.

"No, no, no, no!" I whine, my eyes wide as I feel Mike thrust into me one final time as hard as he can before pulling away, leaving me empty and trembling while he stands from the bed. "Come back, come back!"

Mike looks cocky and pleased with himself while he pulls a sweater on over his head, glancing back over his shoulder at me for just a second.

"Just go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'll handle it," he coos like an asshole.

"B-but I'm not- we-"

Mike is out the door before I can protest, our unexpected guest buzzing once more in clear irritation at the slow response to their arrival. Who the fuck even is it? It's hardly even seven!

Disappointed and frustrated, I slump against the bed, clearly pouting as I hear Mike open the front door. And Abby is slipping out of her room now too, her young voice muffled through the walls as she greets Aunt Jane, apparently.

Oh my god.

Not fucking fair!

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

You know, I wasn't gonna write this. I just pulled a bunch of tags out of my ass when I originally posted the fake fic, but then I decided you guys took the joke so well that you all deserved a little treat. Say 'thank you, Dani.' <3

I may be an asshole, but I'm not evil. So, I expanded my regular taglist to include the horny fucks that got trolled so they could read my bullshitted glory. You're welcome 😌 (would love to have you join the taglist full time, btw!):

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool @laurrrelise @orchidmothh @mystargirl-interlude @freak-accident419 @fatinhadesiners06 @mrjsbunny @futureman @sleepyhutcherson @lile6969 @heartsoremania @bowerssz51 @nick-nacker @joshhutchersonsgf @kathybernice @janitorhutcherson @sofiehutch. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

Happy April fools day, everyone. Thanks for following, reblogging and commenting. See you next time!

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

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jpitha · 6 months

Text

The Oxygen Breathers: With one hand tied behind my back!

The human sat on the bench in the common area for at least one of their hours before the children worked up the courage to approach.

"You're a human right?" One of the children - an Innari - said as they approached the human. They were taller than the human, and seemed to have barely any bones. They moved and undulated like an octopus that was used to being out of the water.

The human's helmet flashed an cartoon icon of its face and smiled - without their teeth - broadly. "That's right! My name is Harold, but everyone calls me Harry. What's your name?"

"I'm Opian, this is Downward Draft, and standing in the back is Vizxxian." They gestured with their tentacle-like appendage. It had manipulators on the end which could be seen a little like fingers. Good for fine detail work.

Harry put up his gauntleted hand and spread his fingers. A wave. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. What can I help with?"

"Downward Draft says humans are the strongest of the Coalition peoples. Is that true?"

Harry sat up slightly. His icon continued to speak while he did. "Well, I don't rightly know if that's true, Downward Draft. I haven't met everyone. Of the ones I did meet, I have a hunch I might be stronger, but you also have to remember, we come from a heavier world than most of the other Coalition species. Earth's gravitational pull is half again what it is here on this station. There were gasps and noises of surprises from the kids. "That's so heavy!" Downward Draft rustled their feathers they caught the light and sparkled. "This station is already heavy for us; our homeworld's gravity is even less. I bet I couldn't' even walk on your planet!"

Harry's icon nodded. "You might be right, Downward Draft. But, gravity aside, it's nice here. I like the colors you use to decorate, and I like your plants. Everything back home is just different shades of green."

Vizxxian was working themselves up for something. Harry peered over Opian's head. "How about you? Do you have a question?"

Viz's eye slits squeezed shut and they blurted out "My parent says you're all a bunch of 'rock throwers' and that we should have never let you into the Coalition. They say that outside of your suits and ships, you're not so tough."

Downward Draft nudged Viz. "Don't be mean Viz! Harry is a guest here. You know how to treat guests."

Harry chuckled. "It's all right Downward Draft. We learn things from our parents. Part of growing up is trying to figure out what is true and what isn't. Now, I'm not mad, but you know that 'rock throwers' is a slur, and not a nice thing to say, right?"

Viz's ears wiggled in assent. "Yes, but that's the word father used. I know it's a bad word though."

Harry nodded. "Context is important though. I could say 'I picked up this rock and threw it' and that's not a slur, but if I said 'those rock throwers always go back on their deals' that is a slur. It's all right though, I'm not angry." Harry's helmet cleared. The kids looked across as his face became visible for the first time. Opian's eyes dilated in surprise. "So your dad thinks that we're not so tough outside of our suits? How about we place a little wager? I'll get out of my suit, and if any of you can touch my arm, I'll buy you a snack."

Opian shrinked back. Downward Draft raised their feathered arms in a gesture of dismissial. "You can't breath the atmostphere here! You'll die!"

Harry put up a hand. "It'll be all right. I'll wear a breathing mask, and the pressure and atmosphere difference won't hurt me for the time I'll be out of the suit."

"Oh we couldn't-"

"I'll do it!" Opian and Downward Draft turned in shock to Viz. They had stood to their full height, just a little taller than Harry and bent their legs just a little. "I can touch your arm."

Harry grinned. "Good. Let's see." Harry stood up, and touched the pad on his suit's arm. There was orange light that illuminated his face and he frowned and pressed more buttons on his suit. After a moment, it turned green, and lines appeared all over the suit. Joints. With a hiss of pressure and a whine of servos, his suit unfolded like a flower, and Harry stepped out.

He was much shorter than the kids. Just two meters tall if that. On the top of his head was a dark fur that was closely cropped, and he had fur all over the lower part of his face that was the same color. Under the outer, armored suit he wore a tight body suit that connected to the outer suit with thin wires. Harry reached down and unplugged them and they slid up into the suit he was wearing and disappeared. Opian was impressed. Their suits seemed to be far more advanced than ones of Innari make.

"There." Harry's voice was much lower than his translator made it sound. Maybe it was the difference in breathing gas? It was also a little muffled by his mask. "Okay Viz. Whenever you're ready."

Opian and Draft stood back and watched. Viz stood stock still and seemed like they were trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, Viz howled and ran towards Harry. Their long legs consumed the distance between them relentlessly. At the last half meter, Viz spun and in one fluid motion bend down and lashed out with one of their legs. Opian gasped. He was attacking Harry! That's a lethal kick if it connects.

Before Opian could react any further, Harry... wasn't were he was before. He was standing a meter to the side, and Viz was flying backwards into the bench. Viz jumped up, and roared again. This was a roar of frustration as well as a battle cry, and charged Harry. Once again, Harry stood there watching, and as Viz turned to kick him, he wasn't were Viz expected, and they went skittering across the smooth floor.

Harry stood with his hands on his hips. His eyes flicked to Opian and Draft. "Remember, strength isn't everything. Know your opponent. Know how they attack, watch for signs, paying attention and then you can move out of the way and dodge." Harry was grinning and put his hand out and curled his fingers towards himself. "Come on, Opian, Downward Draft, you try too!"

Downward Draft bent low and leapt towards Harry, using their legs to absorb as much potential energy as possible, releasing it as they sprung towards him with arms outstretched. Quicker than Opian could follow, Harry ducked underneath the Avar, and Draft sailed harmlessly overhead.

Harry, looked at Opian and raised one of the small lines of hair above his eyes. "What about you, Opian? Give it a try?"

"No, thank you Harry. I concede. There's no way I could touch you."

Harry's nodded. "That's all right. Mayb-"

Harry looked over and Downward Draft was standing mere centimeters away, with his arm out, and the barest edge of one of his iridescent feathers brushed against Harry's arm.

"Got you." Draft whispered.

Harry tipped his head back and laughed. The kids all took a step back in fear. "No, no, it's all right. that's a fair touch. You win, Downward Draft. I'll buy you snacks. Just let me get back into my suit. My skin is starting to itch."

It only took a moment for Harry's suit to climb onto him and fit around him as he stood there. "I have to say Downward Draft, you can move quietly."

They ruffled their feathers in pride. "Thank you Harry. On my world, moving without noise is a prized skill."

Harry darkened his helmet and his icon re-appeared. "Harry?"

He turned, "Yes, Viz?"

"You don't have to darken your helmet. We don't think you're scary anymore."

Harry's helmet cleared. He smiled without showing his teeth. "I'm glad to hear that Vizxxian. I'm glad to hear that."

#humans are deathworlders #writing #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #jpitha #sci fi writing #humans and aliens #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #The Oxygen Breathers

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dimmadoome · 2 months

Text

Listening to Zevlor's voice lines all the way through is so interesting....and enlightening. Because this is a proud man whose confidence in himself is shattered, but he's still proud none the less.

Zevlor threatens you if you punch him. Just straight out says, I WILL kill you if you do that again. He punches Aradin if he spews slurs. He asks you to kill khaga, he asks you to kill the goblin leaders. No hesitation on any of that. Just ..hey buddy you wanna do a couple of murders since I am currently incapable of doing those murders. But he also fights if you ask him to, defends his people through everything. And he won't beg you to do any of that yourself if you reject him. If you don't say yes, he respects it and respects your decision...though he does get snippy as hell about it. If you do turn on him, he'll call you a coward, but he will not beg because once again. Zevlor is proud.

Zevlor is also possessive. You can hear it in the way he says MY people. Sure that could just be the way he speaks because they elected him leader, but he was a commander before that. He was a man who spent his life fighting to have that position of power and respect. Plus he almost sells his soul to the absolute to keep them, both the people and the power. As he says....those people are HIS. His to look after, his to care for his to protect. There's gotta be something in there, deep inside of him that clutches at these people like a dragon does their gold. They are his after all. They're all he has left of the life he once lived. He would rather die than give them up to anyone. Even when the absolute pushes into his mind, it offers him power to keep them safe, plays at his devotion to his oath and his people....and his pride which.....as we've established...is not an insignificant part of him.

He is also protective and caring. That obviously comes with the territory of becoming a paladin of helm, a hellrider and taking the oath of devotion. From what he does for his people to what he's done with his life ...well.....nothing more really needs to be said about that. Its his most prevalent trait and his most commendable.

Zevlor also curses a lot. He is very quick to anger, though he tries to keep himself from flying off the handle and can be reeled back in. He still throws punches and threatens lives with very little prodding. Which, once again, harkens back to his pride. Its quite entertaining to hear every other line be a curse or a shout or some growling threat. Sweetheart where? That man is FERAL.

Another thing is that Zevlor definitely respects you if you are a selfless Tav/Durge/Origin. I think he tries so hard to be selfless as well. Sees it as a good trait to have, but he isn't. Not really. Not where he thinks it counts. Its probably what he percieves as a fatal flaw, which I would guess comes from living in holier than thou Elturel where you basically sign your life away to "protect" the city. I personally don't think total selflessness is a fantastic trait to have, but I could see where Zevlor could pick that up as the Ideal trait for a paladin to have.

Throughout the game, you see this man crack under insurmountable pressure. You see the chips in the facade that he puts up but if you look, you can see the good and the bad trapped underneath those chips. It tends to be frustrating that people only see the cracks and not what's underneath of them and I think thats what annoys me the most. He's a fun character. He's a strong, powerful man who has shattered like iron under pressure but at the end of it all he IS a good man and a menace and a half with such an interesting mindset and backstory that I can't help but wonder if anyone who sees the character, sees him at all.

In summation.

I love him, Your Honor. 10/10 would let him go feral and smite my ass for talking back to him.

#zevlor #bg3 #bg3 zevlor

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gyuvision · 4 months

Text

strawberry soju -> [back to masterlist?]

pairing : exes to ?? hong seunghan x fem reader

contains -> : drinking, mention of alcohol/being drunk

wc : 0.9k

preview ! - your drunken ex boyfriend calls you up out of nowhere, leaving him under your care for the night when he doesnt want you to go.

continue? ⬇️

you groaned at the sound of your phone buzzing once again. after all, it really does get annoying when its been 3 minutes and 7 missed calls.

“who could be calling so late? 10pm on a friday..”

setting down the ramen cup and pausing your favorite show, you swipe to accept the call, holding the phone up to your ear without checking the caller id. “hello? whos this?”

“y/nniee? that you?” the person slurred.

you knew that voice all too well, you didn’t even have to look at the contact name. “seunghan.” you sighed.

“you finally answered.” he exclaimed. you could practically hear his stupid smile.

“been drinking again?” you said, already knowing by his tone of voice.

“just.. a little tipsy..”

“are you-” you were cut off by someone elses voice.

“sorry y/n. he had a lot to drink.” eunseok joined in. “you mind getting seunghan? i know its.. awkward still. but my parents are supposed to go out soon, and i don’t want to leave my brother by himself.”

“hes sooo drunk that he seems to think you’re still together. he’s been asking for you all night!” sungchan snickered somewhere in the background.

“uh.. send me your location then? i guess its fine just this once. he wont even remember it in the morning.”

so you found yourself driving to a well known local restaurant to pick up your ex boyfriend. even though it was your choice, you couldnt help but wonder why you were doing this.

and you also couldn’t help but feel bad at the thought of seunghan being so drunk to the point he still thinks you’re dating.

“y/n, over here!” sungchan called out to you as you entered the building.

“wheres eunseok?”

“you just missed him. he had to go because he’s too worried about his brother.”

“my y/n! you’re here!” seunghan squealed going to pull you into a tight hug.

you awkwardly pat his head in return instead of hugging back. though you couldn’t say that you didn’t miss his touch.

sungchan helped you both to the car before he took off as well.

“god you smell like.. like, strawberry soju?” you exclaimed. “you really reek of alcohol. how much did you drink?”

seunghan replied by holding up 9 fingers, a lazy smile across his face and his eyes closed, with his cheeks a bright pink. “9 shots?” you scoffed as you set course for seunghans house.

“babyy.” seunghan whined. “im not your baby.” “you’ll always be my baby.” he teased back.

you sighed as you rubbed your forehead in frustration. “what do you want?”

“aircon please. i feel hot.” he mumbled as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

you sank into your seat after turning on the air conditioning, putting up with how cold you were so he could feel better. after all, he was a bit of a liability right now though.

you walked up to seunghans apartment with him leaning into your shoulder while he had one arm around you for support.

“whats your code?” you asked, opening his keypad as you assumed he changed the password after your break up.

“same as always. your birthday. i would never change it.”

you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t soften even in the slightest.

after changing seunghans shirt for him then getting him tucked into the sheets, you went to get up to get ready and go home before he pulled you back into the bed with him.

“please dont go.” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into your neck with a small whine.

“but didn’t you think that we..” “nah. just wanted to believe that we were. feel more confident when i’m that drunk.”

“im sorry.”

“why did you leave me?”

though seunghan had said some crazy things that night, nothing would’ve prepared you for that.

“seunghan..”

“i dont care about it anymore then. just dont leave me again. even if its only for today.”

you turned around in his grasp to press a light kiss into his forehead. “promise.”

you decided, maybe it wouldnt be so bad to spend the night. you realize you wouldnt mind being happy with seunghan again even if it meant that he wouldnt remember any of it.

‘but might as well, cause i cant help myself.’ [1:36]

‘i dont ever wanna know how it feels to not have you, my strawberry soju.’ [1:51]

#gyuvision #gyuvision - riize #riize x reader #riize smut #seunghan x reader #seunghan smut #riize fluff #seunghan imagines #seunghan fluff #riize imagines

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lunajay33 · 1 month

Text

The Day Will Come

Summary: Going out to help bring Maggie to the hilltop ends up with you and the others on your knees infront of Negan, you’re one of his victims everyone thinks you’re dead until you wake up in hilltop

Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Gore

•Masterlist•

Daryl had ran out with Glenn and Rosita going to try and stop him, I desperately wanted to go after him aswell but Maggie needed me, I’m her sister after all and I could tell she was extremely sick and if Glenn wasn’t here I needed to be

The rest of us loaded in the RV and were off the hilltop, I was sat in the back with Maggie holding her against me hoping it might help knowing I’m here to protect her

“You’ll be okay sis, we will get you there” he whispered as I ran my hand up and down her back

“I’m scared”

“I know……..” in all honesty I has just as scared, I didn’t wanna lose her or this baby

The RV slowed to a stop confusing us

“Damn it…….its the saviours” Rick groaned instructing Abraham to back up and take another road

This happened over and over again, there was no getting away from them, finally we had to go on foot, having Maggie on a makeshift bed so she didn’t have to walk

My heart was in my ears she was getting worse and my anxiety was at its peek, something was going to happen out here and it’s nothing good, the saviours are after us

As if on cue bright lights flickered on as whistles of the saviours surrounded us, placing us in a line up I was at the end next to Michonne, Maggie was shaking, everyone was scared that’s when they brought out Rosita, Glenn and……Daryl, he was in bad shape, covered in blood, they shoved him down next to me and it was hard not to reach out to him but I couldn’t take my eyes off him the tears streaming down my face, he was shaking obviously in pain

“Let’s bring out the big guy” and out came Negan, swinging around his bat embedded with barbed wire, after his whole speech about how it’s only right to take one of us out considering we killed a whole group of his and that’s when the counting started

“Enie” Carl

“Meenie” Sasha

“Miney” Rick

“Moe” Michonne

“Catch” Me

“A tiger” Daryl

“By” Glenn

“His toe” Rosita

“If” Abraham

“He hollers” Eugene

“Let him go” Aaron

He kept going picking us at random as he pointed his bat at us

“My mother” Maggie

“Told me” Carl

“To pick” Me

“The very” Rosita

“Best” Sasha

“One” Rick

“And you” Daryl

“Are” Glenn

He looked around at everyone of us until he stood infront of Abraham

“It” Abraham rose on his knees starring him down just like he always did

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start, You can breathe, You can blink…..You can cry, Hell, you're all gonna be doing that”

His bat came down hard on Abraham splattering blood all over Michonne and Maggie

“Suck my nuts” Abraham slurred out

Negan kept going over and over and over until there was nothing left of his head except a mush of brain and skull, everyone was crying Sasha and Rosita losing someone they loved on another level

He stood infront of Rosita placing his bat full of blood and Abraham infront of her

“Oh dear were you two a thing…….take a look”

She refused obviously traumatized

“LOOK AT IT”

Daryl shot up punching Negan square in the face

“DARYL NO!” I screamed as the other men pinned him down next to me

“Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with... but I'm a man of my word, First impressions are important I need you to know me, So... back to it” his bat was up again coming down on Glenn, my heart stopped hearing the painful heartbroken scream come from Maggie, Glenn was like my brother

They were dead two of us were gone so quickly and painfully, I watched as Glenn was pulverized someone who was so dear to me, who was next the sight made me sick, I leaned forward throwing up all over the ground running down my legs

“Look at this….so weak, now I said y’all could cry and scream but now I didn’t say you could go and make a mess here, gotta pay for that” he said as he kneeled infront of me

“No please please no” I cried I couldn’t die not yet I still had so much left to do with my family with Daryl this couldn’t be the end

“Relax darling, you’re gonna get a different punishment

“Don’t ya touch her” Daryl growled from beside me

“Oh is she yours” all Daryl did was look between me and Negan with a scared look I’ve barely ever seen

“Even better” I felt hands on my shoulders dragging me forward infront of the group looking back to see other men holding Daryl down

“Please I’m sorry………I didn’t mean to” I whimpered unbelievably scared

He laughed pointing to the man behind me, the man held me down so I couldn’t move

“No darlin, this might hurt a bit, but it’s your own damn fault, SIMON GET THE MELON SCOOP”

Oh dear god he’s gonna take out my eyes, i tried to squirm away and break free but it was no use the guy was way too strong, Simon handed Negan the tool, obviously modified to be sharper

“LEAVE HER ALONE” Maggie screamed

I was facing the whole group now seeing all their panicked faces

I looked at Daryl seeing the fear and the struggle he was doing to get to me

“I love you Daryl, I love you Maggie”

Negan took the back of my in one hand as Simon use metal tools to hold open my left eye so there was no way I could stop this, the melon baller got closer and closer until I felt the edge of it at the side of my eye, it was quick and I let out the most blood curdling scream then everything felt numb, my ears ringing everyone infront of me a blur

“Dar……Daryl” I said then everything went black

Third POV

Negan held your eye laughing as he sees you out on the ground

“Such pretty eyes…….well eye, what a shame” he said as he threw your left eye at Daryl

Negan took Rick away only coming back when the sun was rising, your body still limp on the ground everyone hoping and praying you’d wake up

“We’re done here men” all the saviours got in their trucks and left

Daryl scrambled quickly over to your limp body lifting you into his lap

“Baby please, please come back” he cried looking at all the blood smeared down your face

“We gotta get Maggie and her to hilltop, maybe there’s still a chance” Sasha said as she helped Daryl lift you and lay you in the back set of a truck, your head still resting against his lap, Maggie in the passenger seat, and Sasha driving as the others headed back to Alexandria

They got to hilltop, the doctor checking on Maggie and helping her before he moved onto you

“I’m gonna have to clean out her socket, she’s still alive thankfully but if she wakes up she’s gonna have a hard time adjusting to this” he told Daryl

You got cleaned up and was laid on a spare bed in the main house, thankfully Jesus convinced Gregory to let her stay in the house along with Daryl

Y/ns POV

My head was pounding as I heard shuffling around me, I opened my eyes but something was wrong I could only see out of my right side, I looked around panicked when I saw Daryl sat on a chair next to my bed asleep

“Daryl” my throat was incredibly dry

His eyes shot open quickly coming to my side

“Here have some water” he said giving me a glass that was waiting on the night stand, I chugged it down

“Why can’t I see on my left side?” I asked scared

“Ya don’t remember?” I shook my head confused

“Negan took yer eye peach” everything came rushing back, Maggie sick, Abraham dying then Glenn

“Oh god” I laid back down feeling sick and dizzy

“Yer gonna be okay, I’m gonna help ya” he said as he brushed my hair back

“Don’t look at me” I said as I turned my back to him

“What’re ya talking ‘bout”

“I’m hideous Daryl I’m probably disfigured”

“Ya ain’t, yer still the woman I fell in love with, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from loving ya”

“I love you too D”

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tonkatsubowl · 1 month

Text

anderson's favorite.

▼ aventurine x fem!reader

▼ nsfw themes. mdni.

anderson wanted you to judge and give some opinions on a few drinks that she created. but you got a little too carried away.

being part of the nameless is all about saving some worlds, traveling through the galaxy, being a total bad ass and fighting crime and...

doing alot of side work.

side work included chores and tasks from your newly made companions and civilians that needed help on the... well, side. and another side work you had to do—well, volunteered for, was being a test subject for anderson.

it all started with a single text, and now you're here, sitting on a luxurious stool belonging to anderson's bar, looking at three—no, four drinks before you. and each of them looked aesthetically pleasing, but you knew how alcohol can be deceiving sometimes. it can look great and taste extremely bitter and strong, look weird and taste amazing... or just anything random you can think of.

"alright, (y/n)! let's start off this drink. i was inspired by your adventures in xianzhou luofu, so i made this drink called the lychee paradise. it's similar to a baijiu—if you never had it before, it's a strong liquor. but i tried to make it as sweet as possible for the customers to taste the lychee flavor more, rather than the actual strong liquor."

your fingers wrap around the glass, admiring the lychee fruit that floated atop of the beverage, along with the added sugar coated rim. you give the drink a quick whiff, adding a, "this smells strong. it smells sweet, too," before taking a sip. your eyes comically sparkle, widening due to its incredible flavor.

this was dangerous. you couldn't taste the alcohol, it was like straight up juice—and you knew if you kept drinking it, you'd probably get drunk immediately... but it tasted so good, you couldn't help it but actually down the whole drink!

"woah!" anderson exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "i'll take that response as a total yes, then. but... well? how does it taste? lychee flavored at least? is it too bitter, or...?"

"i taste the lychee! it tastes very sweet, and it would be an amazing addition to the menu." you beam, downing the rest of the drink.

...you didn't want to admit it, but you were already getting woozy. your surroundings were already getting spinny, but your stubborn self refused to admit you were already tipsy.

"alright, how are you feeling?" she asked. "want to stop here? need some water?"

"no," you shake your head, "i'm fine! let's keep going."

anderson fell for your little lie. she smiled and nodded, presenting the next drink.

"this one here is called the summer season. although it's spring right now—well, in dreams, it doesn't really matter—i made this drink inspired by... well, summer itself. should taste like tropical, ish. this one is a little bitt—"

you took a one sip, then you downed the whole thing. mango flavored with a hint of coconut, and you can taste the bitterness of the drink. with this second drink, you were already out, girlfriend.

"o-oh," anderson said, "damn, didn't expect you to actually go for it like that. how is it, (y/n)? or well, how are you feeling, most importantly? i think you should get some water. here, i'll grab some for you."

"i'm alright!" your voice slurred a bit as you enthusiastically responded, "listen. these drinks are amazing. i think you are the aeon of alcohol."

little did you know, while you were conversing with anderson, a certain individual came up and slid an extra glass of water your way. anderson was already in the middle of serving you water, but this person came in clutch faster.

"drank too much?"

you turn your head to see aventurine sitting next to you with his expensive shades on. he smiles at you, then looks to anderson.

"i'll just have whatever is on draft. any will do."

anderson nodded, before giving you the original glass of water, before grabbing his beer.

you smile woozily as you leaned in towards aventurine, drunkingly nuzzling your head against his shoulder.

"aventuriiiiiine..." you whine, closing your eyes. "where were you? i missed you..."

aventurine blinked, chuckling to himself. pristine eyes observe your drunken state as he reached over to pat your head. "did you drink too much, (y/n)? didn't know nameless' were so lightweight."

he stated before taking a sip of his beer, "drink more water."

you shook your head, "no! i would like to help anderson out. you're kind of interrupting my job here!"

aventurine looks to anderson, to which she shrugged sheepishly with a chuckle. "hey, didn't know she was a lightweight either."

aventurine sighed before taking a large gulp of water before lifting your chin, giving you the water via kiss. your eyes wide and your face flushes a darker color of red than it already is now, but you reeled him in with his collar and returned the kiss. anderson blinked and turned away, acting like she didn't see anything before whistling.

"alright, love birds. get a room. i can confirm she's safe with someone she knows."

aventurine smiled within the kiss before pulling away, proceeding to help you out of the stool.

"sorry about her. i'll have her rest somewhere."

anderson nodded, taking the empty glasses. "of course! appreciate it, pretty boy. keep her safe for me or i'll personally kick your ass myself."

aventurine gave a nod and a smile before tipping the bartender some expensive jewels, before leaving with you.

you were able to walk, but you were leaning against the wealthy male the entire time.

"do you... want me to pick you up? you're dragging your feet, (y/n)."

"i can walk," you murmur, the drowsiness slowly kicking in. "i have a stellaron in my body, so i can do anything."

"everyone has weaknesses, my dear. even i myself... do."

"mm?" your eyes drowsily look up to aventurine, who was gazing at you so dearily, "doesn't make you weak."

aventurine falls silent before sitting you on a bench, and before the both of you lies a grand view of penacony. children running around, humans being... human. the beautiful night sky, stars being grand—it was such a beautiful sight.

his arm had wrapped around your shoulders, where you had immediately snuggled up against him, nearly fallen asleep.

"...aventurine." you whisper. "i want... to make sure you're happy."

he blinked before looking at you with a funny gaze. "where is this coming from?"

"... mm." you began, "your eyes are beautiful but i can just see...your sorrows."

aventurine was silent.

he knew you were drunk, but... drunk people tend to be more honest. especially with your feelings towards him, with how the both of you fought in the past, your chemistry with him—everything.

but you were asleep, so he decided to speak, quietly.

"... (y/n). do you think... when we wake from this dream, we'd able to find our ways to each other?"

...

you were asleep, but.

you would answer, 'yes. i would find my way back to you.'

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader

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