#you know how it is in ur mid-twenties

[notjustjavierpena]

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

[ddejavvu]

i was using Spotify and I realized how u could see what ur friends are listening to atm on there and it would be so fun to have hotch discover this, and be surprised that the reader is listening to songs like “or nah” or j any explicit songs like that and is into it😋 could lead into something more like playing that song while they’re doing it later on

OKAY THANK YOU LOVE UR WRITING!!!

i love you! i just left this vague and open to whatever song you want to insert!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Being Spotify friends with Aaron Hotchner only came about because of Penelope's insistence on team bonding. And because she wanted to send everyone the personalized playlists she'd made for them, and sharing became much easier that way.

All it's yielded for you is the knowledge that, very infrequently, Hotch remembers he has a music app on his phone, and that he plays 2-3 Beatles songs before he inevitably gets called to another task and has to shut off the music.

Aaron is even less frequently informed of your tastes in music than you are of his, because the few times that he's used the app, he forgets to check what the other members of the team are listening to. Not that he really cares; Spencer's listening to classical and Derek has too-loud EDM playing in his headphones that Savannah teases him for. Rossi prefers records to his phone, and JJ plays mainly kids' songs for her boys. Emily is always listening to some mid-2000's rock song, but you, you he hasn't gotten a read on. You're all over the place, switching from singer to singer, genre to genre, language to language. All in all, his team's music taste doesn't affect him, but Penelope is far more eager to snoop on you all than he is.

"Ooh, nasty girl," She gushes, head bent to look at her phone as she waits in Aaron's office. He'd instructed her to let him have five minutes to finish a report before she briefed him on a new case's details, but she's proving very distracting. With a glance up at her, half-scathing, half-incredulous, he asks, 'What?'

"Oh! Y/N's Spotify," She holds out her phone as explanation, showcasing your profile with unfamiliar album art displayed over it. It's black and red, but Aaron doesn't recognize the song or the artist.

He raises an eyebrow at Penelope, and she huffily gives into his demand.

"It's a song about sex," She informs him, "Like- feral, sweaty, hungry, clawing-at-the-sheets, scratching-up-his-back, mouth-open-so-he-"

"Alright! Enough," Hotch snaps, glaring disapprovingly at her rather vulgar language, "I think I get the picture, Garcia."

"Sorry, sir." She looks only mildly sheepish, talking more to herself than she is to him as she muses, "Didn't know she was into that kind of thing."

Aaron doesn't think about the title of the song again until well after Penelope's gone, and he's taking his lunch alone in his office. He's more a fan of songs that, if they are about sex, don't outwardly mention any vulgarity, and he's not sure if he could handle explicit material being spewed at loud volumes directly into his ear. Call it morbid curiosity, call it Disapproving Boss Syndrome, but he fishes near-new headphones out of his desk drawer to find out what you've been listening to while filling out government paperwork all day.

He has the good sense to look it up on youtube without logging in. He doesn't want this attached to him in any way, and he certainly doesn't want eagle-eyed Penelope catching him on Spotify.

The beginning of the song seizes the ear right away, a unique beat that definitely doesn't sound sexually appealing. But when each different instrument filters in and the lyrics begin, he realizes that Penelope's description was not very far off.

It's filthy.

It's twenty kinds of vulgar, words that he's never even heard before being used to refer to genitalia. The only way he figures out their definitions is through context, and he thinks he may have been better off without knowing them. He's floored by the contents of the song; he knows sexual songs exist, even at this level of vulgarity, but he'd have never expected you to indulge in them. Certainly not in the workplace.

The song finishes out at three minutes and nine seconds, and Hotch feels a slight heat to his face as he unplugs his headphones and closes the tab. No one had caught him, but he feels mortified anyways, and decides he no longer has an appetite.

He puts the lid back onto the container of leftover pasta that he'd brought from home, keeping his head down as he treks to the kitchenette to refrigerate it.

Of course, his luck fails him as he nearly bumps into you, rounding the corner to the small, closed-off kitchen and finding you in front of the microwave in the doorway.

"Oh! Sorry, Hotch." You laugh, stepping out of his way to let him through. He notices an earbud in your ear and pushes away the knowledge of what song you're probably listening to, heading for the fridge instead.

"It's fine." He grumbles, electing to stay silent for the rest of your impromptu meeting if he can manage. He feels slightly guilty for being cold towards you, because it was his own curiosity that led to his embarrassment, but he can't look you in the eyes right now.

You see fit to fill the awkward silence with the tapping of your nails on the counter, and with a jolt of recognition, and something else far more intense below the belt, he realizes that you're tapping out the beat of the song.

He ignores your sharp gasp as he slams the refrigerator door perhaps a tad too hard. He doesn't have time to feel bad about startling you, though, not when he so desperately needs to be back in the confines of his office, away from the prying eyes of the team.

His sharp memory comes in handy as he calls upon the name of the song later that night, pretending to himself that he's only doing it because it's been stuck in his head. Not because every time he thinks of it, or rather, of you listening to it, his pants tighten slightly. He chooses youtube first, but something drags his thumb towards the spotify button instead, and he swallows the saliva that's suddenly pooled in his mouth when his suspicions are confirmed: you're listening to it, too.

At eleven-thirty at night, probably beneath the covers on your bed just like Aaron is, you're listening to a song about sex, and as he sinks a hand beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, he knows without a doubt that you're doing the same.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

[strangersteddierthings]

I'm just imagining Steve becoming the gang's babysitter when they were younger (like around 6-7). Eddie pops round Steve's to pick him up for a date and the door opens to Steve with a kid on every limb. Dustin's on his shoulders clinging to his hair, Will's clinging to one leg with Mike on the other. Lucas and Max are both tugging on one arm whilst he's carrying El in the other. He's just like: 'the back-up babysitter is late and there was no one else to watch them' and Eddie just goes 'Marry Me'

Anon, ur mind. Imagine. The kids are aged down, obvi, older teens keeping their ages.

It's like their third ever date and Eddie still gets nervous thinking about the date and always over thinks what to wear and triple checks his hair even though it never looks different. And this time he's a bit more nervous because Steve had called an hour ago. Assured him the date's still on, Eddie just needs to pick him up at a different address.

So, Eddie finds himself a little confused when he parks the van in front of the Byers house. He hadn't recognized the address as such when he quickly scribbled it onto his arm but he's been here a handful of times before.

Steve's not waiting outside, so Eddie kills the engine and wonders up to the door. He lifts his hand to knock and realizes he can hear the sound of children scream-laughing. He knocks a little more harshly than he would have, to ensure he's heard.

"Who is it!?" Steve's voice yells out, muffled.

"Eddie!" Eddie shouts back.

"OH! Open the door, it's not locked!"

Eddie shrugs and lets himself into the Byers' household. The sight that greets him freezes him in place. Steve is twenty or so feet away from the door, one leg raised in mid-step, small hands clinging to his ankle as Steve just drags the kid with. Eddie recognizes Baby Byers in the process of being dragged, Baby Wheeler on the other leg. Steve's half slouched to accommodate Dustin on his shoulders, folded awkwardly in half to have both his little arms wrapped around Steve's forehead like some weird headband. He's hold a little girl that Eddie's never seen in his life with one arm, while two other kids he doesn't know have a death grip on Steve's other arm. All together it looks like every kid is trying to stop Steve from moving anywhere.

"Eddie!" Dustin shouts when he looks up and sees who entered the house. Dustin's the only kid he really knows beyond Wheeler and Byers because getting to know Steve meant getting to know the kid that was like his little brother. (Eddie doesn't know how that relationship even happened, but he'll find out one day.)

"Alright you little rugrats," Steve is laughing too hard to sound stern, "get off! I'm going to trip!"

And immediate chorus of protests arise. Eddie catches snippets of 'please don't go' and 'you're the funner sitter' and other things that boil down to, these kids do not want to be watched by anyone other than Steve.

"Sorry, Eddie," Steve shoots him a very apologetic look, just talking over the choir that surrounds him. "Jonathan's going to be watching the rest of their playdate but he's running late. I've watched you gremlins all morning, it's Jonathan's turn."

The kids start whining and pouting and Dustin clings to his forehead with even more force and just- Eddie's a goner. He and Steve have only gone on two dates, have only been on a first name basis for a month and a half. In fact, three months ago Eddie was convinced they had a mutual hate thing going on (not hate, turns out, mutual unrequited-but-actually-requited crush).

There's so much about Steve he doesn't know, and that Steve doesn't know about him. Favorite color, allergies, movie preferences, the little things that add up to the sum total of their personalities and what make them the people they are. But Eddie knows the important things. Steve's unshakeable determination, unwaveringly loyalty, devotion to those he cares about.

So, Eddie blames that fact Steve looks ever bit the domestic, doting father/older brother figure when he opens his mouth to suggest postponing their date so as to not disappoint the kids, and what he says is, "Marry me."

Steve's eyes go wide and freezes. The kids keep swinging off him and trying to tug him around and climb him, so he's swaying around but Eddie can see that Steve's brain has checked out for a moment. Eddie's face burns hot and he knows he's blushing all the way to his toes, Jesus, it's awfully hot in this house.

"I-uh, I didn't mean to say that yet."

Steve blinks a few times, coming back to himself, and then he smiles so brightly at Eddie that all his anxiety over his grievous faux pas slide away.

"Your van's big enough to fit all these creatures into the back, yeah? How about you help me take 'em to the park and we can discuss marriage at a later date."

They leave a note, so Jonathan doesn't panic upon finding an empty house and Eddie all but floats to the car.

Their third date might have turned into an adventure in babysitting for a whole day but that's fine, because it ends with the promise of a fourth, and a sly 'ask me to marry you in a couple of years' said with a smirk when he drops Steve off.

#anon bless you #the images in my mind!!! #this could be a whole series #i dont have time to write it currently #so if anyone wants to add tag me #steddie #my fic #but also anon's fic

[atinylittlepain]

hello bestie im back here again with a joel idea <33

ur smut is so fucking good but im in need of some nice fluff rn because I love the last of us but god that show is hard to watch i get so emotional its hard to keep watching sometimes

but for a fluff idea where the reader, joel, and ellie settle down in jackson and Joel begins to realize that he's happy again and he becomes unsure because he feels guilty about sarah but it ends happily bc its what all of them deserve

my darling, my comrade, thank you for bringing this idea to me. i hope i did it justice <3

gif by @maygrant

Good

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

Stuck between the despair of the past and fear for the future, Joel struggles to accept the goodness he's found in the present.

warnings | 18+ angst, living with grief, lovely sweetness

..........................

“I still can’t believe that. All that time in FEDRA school and they never taught you how to swim?” Ellie huffs at that, stomping a little further ahead of Joel as she mutters.

“It’s not like we had a fucking pool to do laps in, old man. Give me a break.” He breathes out a laugh, glancing away from the kid and toward his woman as she falls into step beside him.

“No time like the present, kid. Gonna have you swimming like a pro by the end of the day.” He can’t help but smile at her words, and in anticipation of the spectacle that watching her teach Ellie how to swim is going to be. They had lucked out, all three of them having this perfect summer day off from class and shifts in town, and had packed up their day in rucksacks to hike out to the nearby lake with the promise that Ellie would finally learn how to swim.

Life has been– he won’t think the word good, not wanting to jinx anything– but maybe normal? They’ve been living in Jackson for a few months now, and he never thought he’d get used to things like running water and home cooked food ever again, but it seems like he has. Ellie goes to classes while they pick up shifts wherever they’re needed, and at the end of the day, they all come… home. He supposes it is home now, and that makes him nervous as hell. He knows better than most that the minute you get used to something in this world, it tends to disappear on you, and maybe that’s what has been making him hold his woman -  the same woman he crawled across the country with - a little closer when they go to sleep each night in their nice, comfortable bed. 

His thoughts have been swirling between these fears for the future, and a deep despair for the past. If he stays surface level, he usually concludes that he doesn’t deserve any of this, any of the smiles, the easing laughs with Ellie, the sweet press of his woman’s palm along his shoulders letting him know she’s still there. Not after everything he did to get by before. But if he needles past the last twenty years, he hits something that stings even more when he remembers that any happiness he gets, Sarah will always be gone. 

He’s starting to be pulled under by his mind as they continue hiking, but she keeps him buoyed with the way she tangles her fingers with his, offering him a smile as they near the lake. They all shrug off their packs in the grass, she and Ellie already toeing off their shoes. When he sits down with a groan, leaning back on his hands, she gives him a questioning look.

“You’re not coming in?” He squints up at her, the mid-day sun a halo around her head.

“Someone oughta keep lookout. You two go on.” Her mouth twists up, but she drops it with a shrug, pulling off her t-shirt to reveal the faded swimsuit she had managed to trade for along with Ellie’s. The kid is standing with her hands on her hips, looking out at the lake like she’s surveying a new planet. She sidles up alongside Ellie, slinging her arm over the girl’s shoulder and murmuring something about “proving the old man wrong” that makes her laugh, the worry scrunching up her face quick to relieve itself. Joel doesn’t even have time to be annoyed at what she called him, times like these making him quick to thaw, when the kid actually gets to be a kid. 

As she is in most things, Ellie is a quick learner, after some initial trepidation, and soon Joel’s watching the two of them dip and swerve through the water, the picture of grace in the clear summer heat. He smiles to himself, remembering how Sarah learned how to swim. Tommy bribed her into the rec center pool with the promise of a strawberry milkshake, and by the end of the day, Joel had to bribe her out of the pool with the promise of fries to go with said milkshake. The pain is quick to settle in at the memory. He finds himself bringing a palm to his chest, trying to rub out the ache even though he knows it won’t ever go away.

His attention is pulled away by Ellie hauling herself out of the lake, bending over and shaking her dripping hair out before plopping down next to him to rummage through her pack. He glances down at his jeans, now darkened by spots of water from her aggressive shake-off, before turning and quirking his brow at her. Already scarfing down her sandwich, she shrugs, mumbling through a mouthful.

“What? I’m fucking starving, man.” He shakes his head, trying to look annoyed, but failing miserably with the smile he can’t fight off.

“Language, kid. And you’re gonna have to wait a while after eating that if you wanna get back in.” Her brow furrows at that.

“Why?” 

“Because– because you– look, that’s just the rule, ok? S’what they always said– gotta wait a while after you eat if you wanna swim.” 

“Who’s they?” That makes him huff.

“I don’t know, alright? Christ, do whatever you want.” He knows it’s too harsh, but he’s having a hard time staying in the present when the past is hanging so heavy over him. He sighs, resting his arms over his knees and leaning forward, his gaze unfocusing into the grass.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” He keeps his gaze hung low, just tilting his head slightly toward Ellie to let her know he is listening.

“Are you ok?” The question catches him entirely off guard, his head whipping around to look at her, his eyes squinted. 

“I’m fine.” Ellie mirrors his own expression, eyes squinting, mouth in a close line as she nods.

“You deserve to be ok, y’know? I believe that.” She just keeps surprising him, and he coughs hard, trying to clear the tightness in his throat before he responds.

“I know, kid. Thank you– I’ll be ok.” She nods again, seeming to accept his answer as she looks back out at the lake. His eyes follow, seeing his woman, floating on her back with a serene look on her face, her arms lightly swaying in the water. He knows Ellie had slipped and called her mom the other day. Maybe it wasn’t a slip at all. 

“Well, if I can’t get back in right now, one of us might as well. Go on, old man. I’ll keep lookout.” He grumbles at the nickname that both of them seem to have settled on for him, but the heat has gotten to him just enough that he listens to her, getting up and shrugging out of his unlaced boots, his t-shirt and jeans quick to follow.

“Jesus, my eyes!” He huffs as Ellie cackles to herself, but is a little too focused on the look his woman is giving him from the middle of the lake to pay much mind to her jabs. 

The water is cool, a relief to every aching joint in his body as he wades in. He can’t remember the last time he did something like this. She meets him in the middle of the lake, an easy smile on her lips as she winds her arms around the back of his neck.

“Hey, handsome.” Even after all this time, he’s still prone to blushing when she talks like that, all syrup and sweetness. He scoffs to hide the creeping heat, his one hand coming to skate up and down her back. She tilts her head, seeming to search his face as she murmurs lowly.

“You’ve been scowling all day. Gonna tell me what’s going on?” She can read him like a book, always could, and it drives him insane most of the time.

“M’fine.” By the look on her face, he knows she isn’t going to accept that answer. He sighs.

“I just– this doesn’t feel real. Like– it’s too good to be true, don’t you think?” Her brow furrows at his words.

“I think it’s good for sure. But I can understand what you mean– waiting for the other shoe to drop, right?” He nods, both of them swaying lightly in the ebb of the water.

“It’s that– but I can’t stop thinking about– about–” His words fizzle out in his throat as he catches sight of something, a flickering of movement hovering just above the water. 

Wings. The smallest splotches of colors blinking like eyes. A butterfly. The only thing that runs through his mind is a name. Her name. His Sarah.

Suddenly, a breathy laugh is rolling out of him.

“What? What is it? Is this– are you having a stroke?” The ridiculousness of the genuine worry across her face just makes him laugh more, his hands finding purchase on her waist and pulling her closer. 

“Joel, this isn’t funny. What’s–” He cuts her off with a smacking kiss, her face stunned when he pulls away.

“I’m fine, darlin. I’m gonna be fine.” He glances one more time at the butterfly, alighted on the surface of the lake for a second before it flutters away. But he knows she hasn’t really left him. Wherever he goes, he knows he has her with him.

He kisses his woman again, this time to the much-vocalized chagrin of Ellie on the water’s edge.

“Gross! You guys are scarring me for life here!” She pulls away from him with a laugh, hollering at Ellie to mind her own business before fixing her attention back on him with a grin.

“Good?” He nods.

“Good.”

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

aot veteran/104 corp icks bc im back on my bullshit

someone requested AOT veteran icks, they didn't specify nsfw or not so I did both and also added sasha connie and jean bc i luv them:) feel free to message/inbox with requests!

(levi, erwin, hange, jean, sasha and connie)

Levi

will visit ur place and organize things without you asking. he'd just be like "ur welcome, now your kitchen makes sense" and ur like sir, I don't know where anything is now??? also he'd def the type to proclaim he's better than you for only getting two hours of sleep when you got four. honestly so many icks come to mind for this one, imma limit it to those two for now (stay tuned lol)

nsfw: tries to be rough with you but forgets his own strength. will try to throw you on the bed, but he does it too hard so you completely miss the bed and fall on the other side of it and he's just standing there like "🧍🏻...my bad."

Erwin

you cannot convince me this man doesn't wear water shoes at the pool. you guys say you want a dilf until you actually get one bc this is the type of shit it entails^^

nsfw: erwin cannot dirty talk for shit. im srry but if you're a lil kinky this isn't the man for you. try to call him daddy and he'd be like "we don't have kids?" and you explain the kink to him and he'd just say, "have you considered therapy?🤨" now he's concerned, boner gone, you feel called out, just go to sleep tbh

Hange

they're def a firm believer in natural deodorant and won't take the graceful hints that it's not working. prob wouldn't chill w them on a hot day is all i'm saying

nsfw: feel like they'd be really good in bed tbh like i'm struggling to think of an ick. hange has big dick energy, weirdos just do it better idk. i think maybe hange would try to spit in your mouth (they a freak) and they have so much and its thick and globby like the back of the throat type spit, your gonna choke bro im gagging as a i type-

Jean

bring back toxic masculinity because Jean's hair care routine is so good to the point he'll call out your split ends, i just know it

nsfw: a fucking chatterbox like his homies know everything. you've walked in on him telling connie in extreme detail how he had you in a full nelson last night while you screamed bloody murder and he doesn't see why ur mad. "babe, if anything i'm bragging about you 😏" fucking idiot istg. also kinda gross but I think he's the type to keep sniffing his fingers after fingering you like well into the next day EWW

Sasha

obvi she can't share for shit so I think she'd be an annoying person to eat out with. like yk when you're with your friends and only one person puts their card down so the rest can Venmo them? I think you can ask her to Venmo 20 and she'd send 15 and say something like "oh I didn't eat as many fries" but she fr did. never puts her card down either so believe it or not? jail.

nsfw: will literally be on her phone mid-sex with you. feel like she'd be really into the subway surfer vids and yeah, you go down on her and look up and she brought her own entertainment? ipad child behavior

Connie

i think he'd say "we" when talking about his fave sports team as if he contributed. like, "really connie, you helped win the superbowl? did you score a touchdown?" grow tf up

nsfw: insane bush on this one, i feel like he doesn't groom for shit and whatever, that's your choice! but I also feel like college-aged modern connie would talk shit about women who weren't bald down there and won't eat it unless it is. HYPOCRITE!! I think when he gets to his mid-twenties tho he'd mature (sasha beat his ass)

#aot headcannons #levi ackerman #levi headcanons #hange zoe #hange headcanons #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin headcanons #jean kirstein #jean headcanons #anime headcanons #connie springer #sasha braus #aot x reader #aot fluff #snk levi

[mncxbe]

hi!! can you do a akutagawa sorta smut where reader is changing and he accidentally walks in on them and he's super flustered and reader is laughing it off but he's all worked up? I loved ur other subby aku fic

Uu yesyes^^ Loved writing this so much. Today I offer you soft and needy Aku. Hope you like it anon♡♡

°☆●

Peek-a-boo

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: seduction 101/ smut♡

Blood raced through Akutagawa's entire body, anger seeping from every pore of his skin. Why the hell did everything go so wrong today? Since morning he's had mission after mission, endless hours of suppressed stress and, as if this weren't enough, he also ran into the weretiger during his lunch break.

Making his way towards the locker room, fists clenched in attempt to push down the rush of rage; he turned the door handle and swung it open.

And there you were, standing in the middle of the room; your body slightly hunched over as you tried to pull on a pair of thin stockings.

Your head snapped towards the door, arms coming to cover your chest.

"Didn't you learn to knock or- Oh hi Akutagawa."

Your lips curled into a sly smile when you saw how flustered your colleague was. He stood in the door frame, hand still grasping the knob as he held your gaze. Still, he couldn't deny that he was relieved he walked in on you instead of someone else.

The relationship between the two of you was not clearly defined yet: you were on friendly terms, sometimes even more than friendly considering the amount of times you hooked up; but the mafioso did his utmost during the past weeks to stay away from you.

He hated how his heart fluttered whenever he saw you. Even now, seeing you half naked, he could barely contain the blush that bloomed on his cheeks.

"Well?" you asked in a playful manner "Come inside. I need your help with my dress."

You had managed to slide the black stockings up your legs, their fabric so translucent that Akutagawa could see your skin through it. He gulped and stepped towards you.

"How was your day?" you asked again, reaching for a coathanger in your locker.

"Shitty" he scoffed "And yours?"

"Kinda ok. I'm going out tonight, as you can see." Pulling the plastic cover from the hanger, you showed him your dress. "Pretty, right?"

It was indeed a beautiful dress: mid thigh and charcoal coloured with little specks of shimmer.

"Yea. Really pretty." he hummed.

You turned around, slipping into the dress and slid it up your figure.

"Gimme a hand with the zipper will you?"

Akutagawa's hands trembled slightly as his lithe fingers travelled down to the small of your back and pulled up the zip. You held your hair in a loose bun, exposing the nape of your neck.

With each second that passed, not touching you became harder and harder. He missed you; your touch, your voice, your scent, the long nights you spent together.

You could basically feel the tension slowly building between you, like a force that pulled you towards him and you smirked. Pushing your body flush against his, your ass rubbed his erection.

"Thank you Ryuu." you giggled.

His hands fiercely gripped your hips, halting your movements. "Don't" he hissed, hot breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

"Why not? You sure seem eager to see me." you mocked as you turned to face him. "You've been avoiding me."

"I haven't..." he stammered, but the pleading look in your eyes made it hard for him to lie. "I'm just tired and frustrated."

A light chuckled rolled off your lips; music to his ears. "I know. How about I help you with it? I still have twenty minutes 'till I have to leave."

Tracing the lapel of his coat you smiled sweetly. Akutagawa's heart sank, lips parting as he gave in and kissed you. It was sloppy and needy and he mentally cursed himself for behaving so weakly in front of you. With his fingers entangled in your hair he pushed you backwards and pressed your back against the lockers.

"Needy, needy boy." you hummed as his lips traced feathery kissed along your neck, earning a groan from him.

Your colleague was too embarassed to reply, simply following whatever his body was telling him to do. He needed you so badly; depriving himself of you was a stupid move which only made him yearn for you more.

One of his hands hooked under your knee and you followed his lead, loosely wrapping your leg around the side of his body. From this new position you could feel his erection pressing against your pelvis.

"May I?" he asked defeatedly, digits lingering on the wristband of your stockings.

"Since you asked so nicely." You playfully booped his nose, causing the man to blush even more.

Words could not describe how incredible it felt to see him unravel in front of you. Because of you. Lust pooled Akuatagwa's eyes and his hands trembled in anticipation as he took the stockings off your leg; his gaze hungrily taking in every inch of your skin.

Akutagawa hastly pushed your panties aside and slipped inside, a desperate moan rolling off his lips.

"God you're so tight" he uttered between low grunts. He buried his head in the crook of your neck in attempt to conceal his flustered expression, teeth gently sinking into your plump skin.

His thrusts were deep and painfully slow; a futile attempt to prolong this moment. You could tell that he was holding back and this mere realisation made your heart flutter. Gently tugging at the black tufts of hair at the back of his head, you whispered the praise and sweet words he so desperately needed.

"Just like that Ryu. You're doing so great please don't stop" Your voice lulled him in a state of pure bliss, eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace.

It didn't take long for him to reach his high, his lips finding yours again. That kiss conveyed all unspoken workds and feelings, all his hopes and wishes. And you returned it, a small whimper escaping your lips when you felt his cum fill you up.

"Shit I'm sorry Y/N" he apologised between ragged breaths as he watched the white liquid dripping down your thigh.

"Nah don't worry. I'll go clean myself up." you said dismissively. "You feeling better now?"

Akutagawa took a moment to just feel. Indeed, the anger and lust were gone, having been replaced by a sweet feeling of... relief? serenity?

His lips curled in a sheepish smile as he nodded. "Yea. Thanks a lot."

"Anytime sweetie. Now I gotta go or my friends are gonna start drinking without me" you said with a wink before putting on your heels and walking towards the door.

"Hey, Y/N."

"Yea?"

"Call me when you're done with your friends. I'll come pick you up, ok?" You raised an eyebrow in surprise, urging him to add "I mean, it's the least I can do after... you know."

"Okay. That works" you beamed, waving him goodby. "See you later Ryuu."

Akutagawa watched the door close behind you, the muffled sound of your heels clicking against the floor growing fainter with each step you took. He took a seat on one of the benches and inhaled deeply. Your perfume still lingered in the air.

Resting his head on the palms of his hand; knees propped on his knees he sighed. Why on Earth did he have to catch feelings for you?

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa smut #akutagawa fluff #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa x you

[waxingrunes]

Odd questions but I’m interested in the scope of Tiny in your opinion.

- Is it always PG? Or does it get explicit?

-Is ur interpretation and HC only wholesome?

-Are they dating?

-Or is Remus like, Lizzie McGuire and Sirius is like a Mini Lizzie?

-Are they at hogwarts?

-What’s the origin story?

-is this Remus also a werewolf?

Like im genuinely fascinated! genuinely would love to know the answers! And if you’re not game to answer bc it takes away some of the “glamour” or interpretation (even though I feel like we’ll equally be excited for each video when it drops even if we know) of them that’s cool I respect it. But would stillllll love to know 😝🥰ILY xxxxx

Orrrr would love to see these q explored in future videos ! Idk just a thought 🤍🤍🤍

Tiny’s forever open for your own interpretations, he can bimble around being whatever or whoever. But as you’ve asked for my takes on them:

Tiny and Remus won’t be getting up to anything explicit in my storytelling, I wouldn’t know how or where to start with exploring that, so as it stands it’s a very PG relationship.

This is a magical verse as Tiny’s a minuscule breed of something very fairy-esque. Remus is a werewolf yes, and actually discovered him in his werewolf form during a particularly calm full moon. He was trudging through the woods, plodding about until he stumbled across a shivering Tiny wedged in a nest of damp leaves. It took one inquisitive sniff from the wolf for Tiny to try and attack (which failed but succeeded in charming his companion) though soon realised this huge daft creature was no threat. Remus prodded and sniffled for a few minutes until resigning to curling around him on the floor, keeping one eye on him rustling around in the leaves, until confidence was gained and eventually Sirius climbed on his snout and settled between the extra soft fur near Moony’s ear.

Remus discovered Tiny after Hogwarts and is somewhere around mid-twenties. At some point, there may be a magical way for Tiny to become the big Sirius we all know, but for now there’s no such thing and Sirius exists in this verse as a wee mythical creature.

I don’t think they’re dating, but there’s an unspoken rule that Remus is satisfied being Tiny’s caretaker. A friend once suggested that the people in Remus’ life have just accepted this “tiny life partner”. These boys are on their soulmate shit in every universe, even in these ones where they’re not necessarily romantically involved, but experience a strong bond nonetheless. Nothing is taking Tiny away from Remus, and god help you if you try take away Tiny’s Moony.

All I know is they’re happy with their little existence and Remus and Lily enjoy coming up with inventive ways to make Tiny-sized objects for him to function. (A toothpaste cap for him to gargle a splash of mouthwash was one of Remus’ proudest moments).

#ask #Tiny

[yeonjunszn]

ASAP! — TWENTY

PAIRING! mark lee x f!reader

SUMMARY! you’re not exactly the best barista at zhong coffee, but for some unknown reason (his massive crush on you), mark thinks you can do no wrong. sick and tired of his favoritism and your lack thereof due to absolute obliviousness, your coworkers are determined to fix this problem. asap.

MORE! 🙀🙀🙀 LEE JENO WTF IS WRONG WITH U (i’m sorry for making u a bad person my sugarplum i love u but ur a milf lover so it worked for plot’s sake)

◠‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠ ‿◠

As if your day couldn't get any worse, just earlier you were taunted by Jeno in front of multiple customers (Mommy of the Month and her little posse of soccer moms) for not knowing how to steam milk properly. Leave it to Mr. I Love Milfs to make you feel small in front of, well, said Milfs.

And now, as you huff in front of an older male customer, he yells at you for not knowing the difference between a Wet Cap and a Dry Cap. Was there even a difference? You don’t even drink cappuccinos.

"You know, that's what I hate about young ladies like you, taking job opportunities away from men like me. You're so stupid, you can't tell the difference between these two cappuccinos? They're different in weight and taste. Are you tasteless? Blind? Maybe both? How do you even work in a coffee shop?"

As the man goes on criticizing you, you can't help but feel the tears well up in your eyes and start dripping down your face. Yet another problem over the stupid milk. Drip, drip, drip. It takes only a few tears to fall down your face for the customer to start getting angrier.

"Oh, look. The idiot girl is crying. Get me your manager, I need to talk to him about lousy, useless girls like you."

Renjun, who just happened to hear the last part of the customer's sentence, whips out his phone under the bar to text Mark. He knows he can't deal with this customer alone, not when you're damn near shivering like you went for a swim in the middle of December.

It’s not long before Renjun steps into your way as Mark grabs your hand, pulling you away from the customer. He laces your fingers together as he guides you towards his office, making sure it's empty as he sits you down in a chair.

"Are you okay?" Mark asks, eyes filled with concern and heart aching for you.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to speak out of fear that your voice will quiver much like your body is right now.

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have had you switch your usual shifts," Mark comments. He kneels down before you, thumb brushing across your puffy cheeks to stop your tears. "I would have never done it if I had known you were going to be treated like this. I know you’re used to the usual mid shift customers."

Mark’s other hand pats the top of your head comfortingly as you sniffle, finally speaking, "No, I... I promised you I would help. I just didn't know Jeno was so mean sometimes. And that old guys were capable of yelling at me like that."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'll talk to Jeno and I'll switch you back to your mids with Jaemin and Yangyang," Mark sighs. He looks for any hint of upset in your eyes, but instead he gets a faraway look. Like there's something not quite there. "Do you want a hug to make you feel better?"

You nod your head slowly and Mark stands up, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist as he begins to rock the two of you back and forth, swaying and humming to an imaginary tune.

After a while, you pull away and look up at Mark with a pout and hopeful eyes, "Mark?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm a bad barista?" you ask.

"Well, I think you weren't as good as the other baristas before, but you are getting better," he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. If his hand had lingered for any longer, he would have been able to feel the heat pooling in your cheeks.

"Okay... Um, do you think I'm stupid?"

"No. It's practically impossible to tell those two cappuccinos apart unless you’ve been a barista for a really long time. That guy was just an asshole. If he ever comes back here, I'll beat his ass to a pulp," Mark answers you truthfully. He speaks clearly; he wants you to think highly of yourself and not listen to the words of some arrogant customer. A part of you believes him, taking his words to heart.

"One more thing..." you mutter, pushing yourself back into his chest and hiding your face.

"Mm?"

"Can I... can I have your chocolate croissant?" you ask, hesitation in your voice.

Mark bursts out into laughter at your silly question, his entire body vibrating as he holds you tight. "Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Of course, Y/N. You can have whatever you want," Mark says. "Are you feeling a bit better now?"

"Yes. Thank you," you murmur, looking at his face — more specifically, his eyebrows. Something in you makes you a tiny bit shy, not able to look into his eyes as he smiles at you.

"Any time."

There's a racing in your chest, where your heart is, one that's never really been there before. Whatever it is, you hope that it will calm itself. Quickly.

TWENTY — chocolate croissant

PREV! nineteen — i will force his hand into a blender

NEXT! twenty one — #xiaojun_out

MASTERLIST!

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TAGLIST! @stardusthyuck @erin-calling @tddyhyck @bigheadchen @choiwonder @neozon3nha @sunflowerbebe07 @kissesfrmwonwoo @miyawwn @sserafimez @haechansbbg @lilyidk03 @mowchiie @jaemsrina @jeongintwt @shwizhies

#nct #nct smau #nct social media au #nct socmed au #nct mark x reader #nct mark smau #mark lee x reader #mark lee smau #mark lee social media au #mark x reader #mark smau #mark social media au #yeonjunszn #asap.mark❕

[night-raven-tattler]

First kiss, what bliss... maybe...

Summary: Neither you nor your partner have had your first kiss yet. What kind of shenanigans would that information bring?

Characters: Cater, Jamil, Vil × GN!Reader (separate)

Warnings: misunderstandings

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Facing Cater after what happened felt like the hardest challenge you've ever gone through

Curse Magicam and curse couple tags and couple selfies, curse all of it!

The memory was fresh in your mind, making you cringe at the situation

You just wanted to take a cute selfie with your boyfriend, like any normal person

And you thought it would be funny and cute to kiss him on the cheek mid selfie

But he happened to have the same idea...

And your lips unceremoniously clashed over each other

As if the situation wasn't very embarassing already, Cater's reaction made it worse

He awkwardly laughed while scratching the back of his head, then left the room in a hurry

Horrible feedback for your first kiss, really

Were you that bad at kissing? But you didn't even have time to be bad, it was barely anything but his lips landing on yours

Sevens, even thinking about it made you feel like your face was on fire

You cursed all teen rom coms for lying to your poor teenage heart as you buried yourself under your blankets

But soon enough your phone started buzzing like crazy

One, twice, thrice

Twenty times

You picked it up to check what was going on, when you saw none other than your boyfriend spamming you with apology texts

"i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry"

His apologies only made you more confused

"wait why"

You could tell he was trying to pick between keysmashing his way to forgiveness and trying to find a coherent response as the loading chat bubble appeared and disappeared on your screen for a few minutes

In the end all he sent back was one text

"nvm i'm coming back to ur dorm stay there"

You undug yourself out of your fluffy pity party and, before you could process properly the situation you were in, Cater knocked at your door

You combed your fingers through your hair before taking a deep breath and opening the door

Just to see a Cater just as frazzled as you were

"I'm so sorry I didn't know what to do I wanted to be cute-"

"I was so stupid, I don't know what came over me, I panicked and-"

You talked over each other, then stopped and sunk into a bit of an awkward silence

Not even your conflict solving skills were on your side today

"Uhm, Let's just... I mean, can I come in?"

"I will let you in... before Riddle hears you used 'can' instead of 'may'."

Cater's eyes widened before he snorted, and a small smile blosommed on his lips

"Alright, don't mind me~"

His sing songy delivery came out slightly tense as he hesitated before stepping into your room and making a bee line to your bed

Another awkward, albeit shorter, silence took over the room before you sighed

"Cater, I'm sorry. I wanted to be cute and kiss you on the cheek, I'm sorry if I overstepped something or-"

"Oh, no no no! That's not it at all!"

Cater's cheeks grew redder than you've ever seen them

"You have nothing to apologise for! It's just..."

His eyes went from your face to the floor, then to the lamp on your nightstand

"It took my by surprise, and I was not prepared at all, and I reacted very poorly... It was so much different than what I thought our first kiss to be."

He reached out to his hair and started playing with a strand, something you noticed he did when he needed something to do with his hands

You took a seat next to him on the bed and sighed

"To be honest... I have no idea how I wanted our... first kiss... to be like... Since that was my first and all."

Cater's eyes widened and he snorted

"Yours too?"

Hearing his words, you turned to face him, and saw an expression hard to read

"Wait, what? Really?"

Cater nodded

You snorted, then burst into laugher

He had no idea why, but Cater also joined in with his own confused giggles

"So both our first kisses kinda sucked. Man...!"

Cater lied on your bed, obviously more relaxed than before

"...Well, at least I know I'm not the only victim of the lies about the romcom first kiss."

"You know what they say about misery loving company!"

You lied next to Cater, thinking about how ridiculous everything was

And you were glad to see Cater back to his more relaxed self

"So... No hard feelings, then?"

His question made you giggle

"None. Only if you promise me a proper redo, though."

Cater turned on his side, prompting his head on his arm

"Totally! Not right now, though. My heart had enough of a workout today."

"Same..."

You spent the rest of the day watching cute videos on his Magicam feed

The atmosphere turned back to normal once again, and you almost forgot about the incident

Until a few weeks later, when Cater was finally ready for the proper redo

『••✎••』

You were leaving Sam's and checking items off of a list, making mental notes to yourself

Ingredients for chakli and shankarpali? Check. Enough paper to make origami jasmines until your hands hurt? Check.

The permission slip from Kalim that allowed you and Jamil to stay out of the dorm for the night? Check. The contracts from Azul binding your friends to the responsibility of keeping Kalim in check while you and Jamil are away? Check

Were your preparations a little extreme? Maybe, but you had a very important goal in mind

Several weeks prior, you were bestowed with a very valuable information: Jamil never had his first kiss

Neither did you, but you wanted to do something about it

After a lot of shifts at the Mostro Lounge, you finally were able to put together the perfect date

A picnic under the stars in the garden of Ramshackle dorm, where you could create the perfect opportunity to give your boyfriend the first kiss he deserves!

You skipped on your way to your dorm from excitement and prepared everything for the special night

But whatever deities ruled over Twisted Wonderland decided that it would be funny to cause an unpredictable downpour on the very night you were planning to be out

All Jamil could do to help your disappointed self was to help you gather your things and resume the "picnic" in your dorm room

Despite him trying to comfort you, you still had a hard time recovering, as the night you were so emotionally invested in was ruined

Jamil sighed as it sunk in that the issue was deeper than he thought, and he made you sit down with him

"This wasn't just a normal date, was it? Talk to me, Reader."

You sighed and grabbed Jamil's hand

"I'm just... really disappointed, I guess. I worked really hard to make this date special! And this stupid rain ruined the night. I'm sorry..."

Jamil raised an eyebrow

"Special? Were you preparing something for a special occasion?"

You hated how perceptive he was sometimes

You looked away, and your reaction to his question was all the confirmation Jamil needed

He still waited for you to tell him, regardless of how embarassed you grew with every second of silence

So eventually you caved after what felt like a whole hour of silence

"...You know how you told me you haven't had your... your first kiss?"

Jamil listened to your explanation with a growing blush on his cheeks

"I wanted to make it memorable! I haven't had my first kiss either so I thought it would be great to make it great for the both of us! But then it started raining, and it made the food all soggy, and I just wasted three weeks of my life for a stupid contract with Azul and my friends to make sure Kalim doesn't accidentally start an international conflict while I'm trying to smooch you!"

Your little rant left Jamil speechless

You were expecting some sort of snort or sarcastic remark, but you heard... nothing

So you turned your face to look at Jamil

And he was deep in thought, eyes not even looking at you

His mouth opened and closed a few times

Jamil's face never settled on an expression for too long, his conflicted feelings coming to the surface

The silence was making your nervous, but it was obvious Jamil was weighting his words very carefully

"Reader, I don't need a special setting for you to show you care about me."

"I know you don't need it, but you deserve it! You work so hard all the time and you never get the praise you deserve, I wanted to spoil you as much as I could and give you an unforgettable memory..."

Jamil was rendered completely speechless

And, when your words finally sunk in, his face started burning like a campfire, and he pulled his hood over his head

"You... You are impossible..."

Your hand was still holding his, and you gave it a squeeze in reassurance

The silence that befell on you was just a bit awkward, but you gave Jamil time to recover emotionally

A few minutes passed when he pulled the hood off and asked you to make a pillow fort with him in your room

"I can't let your efforts go to waste, not after... after everything you've said."

Despite your disappointment, you'd never say no to a night with your boyfriend

So you took the chairs, Jamil took the blankets and pillows, and you set up a pretty nice fort

It wasn't the starry sky you imagined yourself sitting under, but maybe Jamil was right

You didn't need anything fancy to have a special moment

And the way he was clinging to you while you were running your fingers through his hair was even more special to you than anything

You chuckled to yourself at the visage of Jamil Viper, the most tense and closed off teen you know, completely making himself comfortable in your embrace as if your body was made to hold him and cherish him

He raised his head, his attention caught by your chuckle

Maybe it was the way Jamil looked more relaxed than usual or the way that he was simply looking at you, expecting nothing but to satiate a small curiosity

But Jamil looked really beautiful to you in that moment

And kissable...

"This is kind of embarassing... I really wanna kiss you right now..."

Jamil smirked at you

"I thought you needed a meteor shower and a full course meal to get a kiss."

"...Never mind, you ruined it."

You were sure he wouldn't let it die until you actually kissed

A problem you could solve really easily

You started plotting another plan; this one was simpler, and it involved just you making him look at you and leaning in a little closer...

『••✎••』

"Did you have any voice acting roles animated movies and stuff?"

Vil contemplated your question for a few seconds while he applied some skin cleanser on his face

"A few, yes. I prefer when people experience my presence fully when I act, but I don't mind bringing a different type of character to life if I like the project."

You were in Vil's room, using your priviledge of being the partner of a Housewarden to spend the night with your boyfriend without the need of a formal pass

As fair as Vil was, he didn't mind your daring actions as they amused him

To pass the time while Vil prepared himself to go to bed, you decided to play 20 questions

"Do you prefer open ended media or do you like to know what comes out of the fate of the characters?"

Vil was good at asking questions, as they really made you fall deep in thought

"Hmm... I think both are pretty great. It depends on the setting the most. An open ending works well with a thriller movie, but I like a proper ending for a romcom."

Your boyfriend hummed at your response

You watched Vil as he reached for his serum, and you caught a glimpse of a smile on his face

"Smart answer. That's the beauty of media, it allows you to tell different kinds of stories in different ways."

Vil opened the serum bottle and let a few droplets fall on his face

"Have you had your first kiss for a role or in real life?"

"Neither."

"Wait. Really?"

Vil snickered at your reaction as he met your eyes through his mirror

"What, is it really that shocking that I haven't had my first kiss yet?"

He was something else: usually people would be embarassed at the prospect of having to admit they haven't had their first kiss at all

"Kind of? I assumed that... well, I know that people who've been acting for as long as you have been exposed to a lot of things before the proper time."

"I can't deny that. I could say that I had a lot of people making sure I never did anything too... extreme."

Vil grabbed his moisturizer, and you had no idea how to feel about losing count of the products he has used so far

While he applied the product, Vil smiled to himself mischievously

"What about you? Have you had your first kiss?"

Your cheeks warmed up in embarassment

"No..."

Your reply was followed by an awkward laugh, and it drew a chuckle out of Vil

For the first time in a while, Vil got up from his chair and sat on his bed next to you, leaning closer

His closeness to you and your confession made your cheeks grow hot

The floral scent of his freshly applied products and the teasing glint in his eyes made you dizzy

"Oh? Is that so?"

Your confusion suddenly vanished as you realised what Vil was about to do

Were you about to kiss?! Right now?!

Vil leaned in very close to your face while you panicked and tried to figure out what to do

He kept a distance of barely two centimeters for a few seconds

Then he kissed your nose, making you confused

"You've been able to go on this long without your first kiss, you'll be fine waiting a little longer..."

You were shocked as Vil backed away with a smile on his face and cheeks dusted pink

It finally dawned on you: he was only teasing you

He only laughed when you gave him a swat to his thigh, wordlessly accepting your offense as warranted

The audacity of this guy...

"You really though I'd allow our first kiss to be anything less than spectacular? My line of work has been advertising a life changing moment, and I feel it's my duty to... live up to the hype."

Your indignation, as lighthearted as it was, refused to allow your pride to be wounded by such teasing

You raised yourself from your spot and, with a courage fueled only by impulsivity, you put your hand at the back of Vil's neck

You pulled Vil close to your face, action that earned you a gasp from your beloved

Almost all courage left you but you still continued with your plan: you waited a few seconds before pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth

"Your... line of work also has teasers and trailers, right? Consider this one of them."

Vil was more than shocked; to your surprise, he seemed awestruck by your actions

A lovely pink took over his face as a proud smile bloomed on his features

"Maybe I will."

『••✎••』

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #i wanted to write 2 more characters with this prompt #but this is already long enough that i think my phone is about to burst into tears

[piratekane]

hey buddy!! for ur prompt thing u should do either 12 or 27 for avatrice pls and thank u :)

twenty-seven: i can't think when you keep looking at me like that

Ava pulls her legs up under her and turns, propping her chin over the back of the couch. Bea is in the kitchen, putting away the last of the orange chicken neither of them could finish. A movie plays on the television behind them, some romantic comedy Ava suggested on the recommendation of a customer, but she doesn't care about pausing it so Bea doesn't miss anything.

It's not good. She's never taking Eduardo's advice again. He promised her his girlfriend loved it, but Ava is starting to question her taste in men and movies.

"Ava?" Bea calls.

Ava pops up off the couch, bounding the few feet from the living room to the kitchen. She liked the open concept floor plan, being able to see all the space they had. And it felt like so much. She could fit at least 15 of her going in one direction. But mostly she liked the way that no matter where she was in this place they called home, she could see Beatrice.

She eases up as she gets to the island in the kitchen. "Reporting for duty."

Bea shakes her head, a slight smile on her face. Ava likes this smile almost more than she likes any of Bea's other smiles. This one feels like it carries the most affection, like she knows Ava is ridiculous and can't help but love her for it.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to keep the rice." Bea holds the to-go container, still mostly full.

Ava means to answer her. She does. A yes is on the tip of her tongue. But her eyes get caught on Bea - on the tank top she's wearing and how it accentuates the coiled muscles of her arm where they hold the rice mid-air. She breathes out shallowly.

She's not above thinking Bea is hot. And she'll tell that to anyone who asks. And to anyone else who doesn't.

"Ava," Bea says slowly. "What is it?"

Ava shakes her head, slowly rounding the island, feeling the cool granite against her bare arm where her t-shirt ends. "You're just so..." She whistles low, wiggling an eyebrow.

Bea laughs a little. "Ava."

"What?" She slides up into Bea's space, taking the rice container out of her hand and setting to back down on the countertop. Bea looks down at the her, amused, as Ava pushes in a little closer, their hips pressed together. Her fingertips walk down Bea's arm to her waist, curling in the hem of her soft t-shirt.

Casual-Bea is her favorite: loose shorts and soft t-shirts and hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. Really, every Bea is her favorite, but right now, it's definitely this version of Bea. She crushes the soft cotton in her hand and then lets her fingernails scratch lightly at the skin under it. She doesn't miss the slight shiver under her fingertips and she grins. Bea's eyes narrow in warning, but Ava can read through it and doesn't let it slow her down.

Ava presses her whole palm to Bea's couch-warm skin, curling around her waist. Her other hand settles on Bea's bare arm, sliding until her fingers are pressed to Bea's neck. She'll never get tired of touching; is trying to make up for what feels like years of missing this. Bea tells her she's being dramatic. That it was just a few months on this side of the Arc, but she always brushes a careful hand through Ava's hair like she knows it was much longer for Ava.

"Ava," Bea says slowly. Her eyes are starting to cloud a little and darken. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip and Ava's eyes follow it, feeling her own throat go dry.

This Bea is her favorite: unafraid of showing what she's feeling, uninhibited. Unashamed. She knows how much work Bea has to put into letting herself feel things out loud. And honestly, that's the sexiest thing about Bea. All the aikido and the knife skills and the way she can crack a walnut with one hand pales in comparison to how free Bea looks.

A firm hand goes to her hip, squeezing lightly to catch her attention. "What are you thinking?" Bea asks, too quiet for the silence of their apartment.

It takes her a minute to hear the words. She's too caught up in the way that Bea has taken her bottom lip in between her teeth gently, letting it go slowly. "Honestly?" she finally says. "I can't think with you looking at me like that."

Bea's eyes sparkle a little. "Like what?"

"Like..."

But Ava has always been held back by words. So she holds onto what she was going to say, traps it behind her teeth and leans in, kissing Bea instead. It's slow, unhurried, and exactly the kiss Ava dreamed about for months in their tiny apartment; the kind of kiss she fought her way through hell for. Bea sighs against her lips, tilting her head to their mouth slant together like that's what they were made for.

Ava slowly works up the bottom of Bea's shirt, inching it higher and higher until a hand comes down on hers, trapping it.

Bea breaks away. "Dinner."

"Cold Chinese is the best Chinese," she argues quickly, darting back in to kiss Bea again.

Bea laughs against her lips. It's the prettiest sound Ava has ever heard. "I think you need to put it in the refrigerator for it to be the kind of cold that makes it good."

Ava groans but pulls away, rushing through closing the to-go containers, putting the reusable chopsticks in the sink to deal with later, and leaning over the couch to turn off Eduardo's horrible movie suggestion. She pauses, leaning against the back of the couch, and exhales.

Bea tips her head to one side and smiles. It warms something in the pit of Ava's stomach and she knows, if she really had to, she'd walk through hell every time to get this back. Nothing could hold her back.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #i came i saw i tried #now i can crawl back into my blanket den and hide away #hope you like it liam! you're a rockstar

[avatar-anna]

hi loveee ur writings can you pls write an angst where y/n is a stripper and is insecure with her relationship with harry bc she thinks that he deserves so much better

*cracks knuckles" let's do this

this is very long and very unedited. enjoy!

tw: mentions of assault

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You met Harry at a very precarious time in your life. You were confident enough in yourself to know that the assholes who wanted you didn't deserve you, but just insecure enough to believe that you were undeserving of a real prince charming, or that they would want nothing to do with you.

Growing up, you had dreams of grandeur: become a prima ballerina, live large in New York City, and one day meet someone who would sweep you off your feet. It was childish and perhaps a little naive, but growing up, those dreams were all you had, so you clung to them and hoped they would take you far away from the life that had been handed to you.

And they did, but they only took you so far.

Suffering an injury you wouldn't ever recover from was one of the toughest pills you ever had to swallow. You were so close to achieving your dreams: a good performing arts school, a hefty scholarship, a decent boyfriend (who turned out to not be so decent), and now you had nothing.

You had to drop out of school because you no longer had any art to perform, or enough money to pay for it. Before you knew it, you were out on the street, selling off personal item after personal item until you could afford to sleep in a cheap motel room and figure out how you were going to spend the rest of your life from there.

Those weeks were dark. You were hypervigilant on the street and in your motel, which made you exhausted and irritable during the day, but you did your best to cover it up and look like a model citizen so you could find a job. You wandered all over, trying and failing to find a job. At first, you wanted something respectable, like working as a waitress, or a receptionist, or a maid, or a nanny, but no one wanted to hire you. And the longer you went without a job, the more willing you became to find money. Whoever said that money didn't buy happiness was either a liar, had a lot of it, or both, because as someone with only a couple bills to your name, you were miserable.

It was in those deep, dark days that you came across her. A woman, perhaps a couple years older than you, leaning against the side of a brick building and having a smoke. She was pretty, with long legs and long blonde hair, though you were almost positive it was a wig. She was scantily dressed, too, which was odd for how chilly it was.

Having caught your stare, she glared at you. "What are you looking at?"

"N—Nothing. I wasn't looking," you said quickly, starting to move again.

"Wait a minute," she said, her voice silky smooth, with a slight husk from years of cigarette smoke in her lungs. "I've seen you around before. You looking for a job?"

You blanched. It didn't take you long to realize what the woman's profession was, or that she was now hinting that you could do the same. You didn't want to, your brain told you you could still find work elsewhere, but your stomach was very tired of vending machine snacks for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So you nodded, coming closer to the woman when she told you to.

She looked you over, examining you from head to toe. "You obviously don't have any experience as a stripper."

"No, but I can dance," you said, feeling the need to prove yourself to this woman all of a sudden.

"You're gonna need to bulk up a bit more. They like a little more meat on your bones, but...you have potential."

The woman pinned you with a stare, one you couldn't have looked away from if you tried. You realized then that she was older than you'd originally suspected. Not by a lot, but she was definitely closer to thirty as opposed to early or mid twenties. For a moment you wondered how long she'd been doing this for, if she ever had dreams of grandeur too.

"I'll vouch for you, help you get on your feet. But it's up to you to convince Derek you're fit for the job. Think you're up for it?"

Turns out you were up for it. You were a natural, working a pole or dancing on the club's stage. It wasn't the stage you used to dream about, but it was one that awarded you food and shelter, and those were your new dreams. Your new boss even leaned into your ballet training, your costumes always soft pinks and purples and your performances demure and innocent-appearing.

It was a gift and a curse. Customers were crazy about you, but some thought that your appearance was an extension of who you actually were. You received plenty of comments from older men about being taken care of, of them wanting you to be your little girl. The club you worked at ensured that no one touched you, but the words were enough to make your skin crawl and made you so paranoid that someone would follow you home that you slept with a knife under your bed.

Still, you wracked in tips, and made enough money to leave the motel and rent an apartment. It was cheap and basically a closet with a toilet, but it was yours, you'd earned it all by yourself. And you made friends with the other girls too. You came in early to cheer your friends on and stayed late so you could walk home together. It wasn't the family you envisioned yourself having, but these were your sisters, and though you used to consider stripping a "not respectable" occupation, there was no one you respected more than them.

It was your injury that set you back at times. You couldn't go one for as long as some of the other girls because your knee would start to hurt. Dancing at the strip club wasn't nearly as strenuous as ballet, but you were still putting more pressure and strain on it than you probably should've. It got to the point where Derek told you to see a doctor about it or he'd have to fire you for not bringing in enough revenue for the club, so you went on one of your off days, and that's when you met Harry.

He was the resident at the doctor's you went to, and you couldn't help but be smitten. He was kind, gentle, and spoke to you like an actual human being, something you hadn't heard from a man in a long time.

When he asked you what you were doing to make your already injured knee so angry with you, you couldn't help but lie. You didn't know why, but you just couldn't tell him what you really did for a living. He looked at you like an equal, and you just knew that telling him you were hurt because you worked as a stripper six out of seven days a week would make him look down at you.

He was skeptical when you told him you just ran a lot, but didn't ask you for more information. "Take these when it gets really bad, and schedule some physical therapy appointments with us, I think that'll really help."

You didn't have the money for physical therapy, but you nodded like you were going to do just that, not wanting to disappoint him.

From then on, you saw him sporadically. Every few weeks when you needed a new prescription, you'd go in, and each time he would tell you the same thing: lay off the running and go to physical therapy. There were moments where you thought he was flirting with you, but you told yourself that you were crazy. He was a doctor, your doctor, there was no way he'd be interested in you.

Your relationship changed slightly when you came into the doctor's office one day, this time accompanied by one of your friends. At the sight of your friend practically holding you up and the sound of you crying, the receptionist ushered you into an examination room and told you that Dr. Styles would be in shortly.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked when he came in.

Half your face was black and blue, your lip was split, and you were trembling in your friend's arms. Crying too hard, you couldn't form the words to answer your doctor's question, so your friend spoke up.

"You gotta help her, sir. She's in a bad way. I think she went into shock or somethin'."

He came closer, but when he tried to move your hair away from your face to get a better look, you flinched, huddling into your friend even more. "Hey, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," he said, his voice gentle as it ever was. "I just need to see what I'm dealing with so I can help you. What's your name, Miss?"

"Daisy," your friend replied, though it wasn't actually. You all went by fake names at the club.

"It's nice to meet you, Daisy. Would you mind helping me? It seems she's comfortable with you touching her, so I just need you to hold her hair back while I get her face cleaned up and see if she needs stitches."

"Of course, sir."

Together, Harry and Daisy patched you up, starting with the top of your head and working their way down. There weren't very many cuts besides the gash on your cheekbone and your split lip, but there were a lot of bruises. On your neck, your wrists, half your abdomen.

"Is she in an abusive relationship?" he asked. You'd only ever come in for your knee, but this was completely out of control.

"Uh...No, sir. Just a bad day at work is all," Daisy said.

The truth was you were asked to dance in a private room tonight for a group of guys. Not uncommon, but the problem was with your bodyguard. Every dancer in a private room had one to ensure their safety and make sure that customers only looked and didn't touch. He was new, clearly not as experienced, and underestimated the power of unassuming young men. They knocked him out in an instant, and then their attention was on you.

Help came, but not soon enough. You'd never felt more violated your whole life. When more bodyguards came in and kicked the men out, your costume was in tatters, bruises forming everywhere.

By the time Harry patched you all up, Daisy had to leave and finish the rest of her shift. Derek allowed her to take her thirty minute break to get you help, but she had bills to pay too.

"Please don't go," you whispered, the first thing you said since you stopped screaming at the club. It hurt to speak, but you didn't want to be alone.

"I have to," Daisy said, sounding sorry, but not enough to oppose Derek and stay with you.

"I can't be alone right now. I can't—I don't want to walk by myself. It's the middle of the night, Daisy—"

"Wait, you're walking home alone?"

Harry had gone to write you another prescription for the pain, and you'd taken the opportunity to beg your friend not to leave you.

Hearing him come in shut you up, and you immediately curled back into yourself, not meeting his eyes.

"I have to go back to work," Daisy said. "I'm really sorry, Angel."

If you hadn't been terrified at the prospect of walking back to your apartment by yourself this late at night, you would've cringed at the way Daisy used your stage name instead of your real one, the one Harry knew.

"Wait here," he said suddenly.

A few minutes he came back with the receptionist. "This is Margaret. She said she'd drive you home. Would that be alright?"

Not seeing a better option, you nodded, and from there, everything was in motion. Daisy left, Harry went back to his office, and you and Margaret quietly got in your car. The older woman tried to ask you a few questions, but you didn't answer, blinking and staring out the passenger window until you fell asleep. When she came upon the address you gave her, her heart sunk. Picking up the phone, she called Harry.

"I can't in good conscience leave her here," she said into the phone as she looked around your neighborhood.

"Take her to my place. I have a guest room she can sleep in for the night," he said immediately. If Margaret didn't think you would be safe, then he would take her word for it. All he kept seeing was the broken look in your eyes. He missed the light, he missed seeing your smile.

Harry wasn't an idiot. He knew there was something going on with you, and now he was kicking himself for not intervening sooner. He still didn't know what you did exactly, but it obviously wasn't safe.

Bringing you to his place was a risk, seeing as you'd barely let him touch you, but it was one he was willing to take. After tending to you for a while, he cared about you, and seeing how badly you were hurt tonight made the urge to protect you even stronger. For the last few days, he'd been thinking of ways to casually ask you out for coffee, hoping you'd give him the time of day. You were kind and witty and beautiful, and he was waiting for the next time you'd come in and see if he had a chance, but now that was out of the question. He just wanted to make sure you were safe.

-------------------------------------------------

A month later, you were back to performing. You worried Derek would fire you since you couldn't perform with all the bruises you had, but he stuck you behind the bar and told you to make yourself useful behind the scenes. But now that you'd made a full physical recovery, you were back to stripping on the main stage of the club. The private rooms, which were closed because none of the other dancers wanted to give private shows after what happened to you, but enough time had passed that they were open for business again, with two security guards instead of one.

You still hadn't done a private show since that night, but you knew Derek would only have so much grace. You were quite popular with customers, and a lot of them wanted your undivided attention.

But for now you were focused on doing one dance at a time. Controlling your breaths and keeping your heart from beating too hard as you made eye contact with customers was your main priority, collecting tips at the end being the second. You didn't think you'd ever be completely comfortable stripping again, but you were as close as one got. The other girls helped you, two of them walking you home and standing guard while you changed in and out of your costumes. It was the little things that made you feel safe, and you were thankful that the people around you were doing what they could to help you heal.

One night, you were given one of the main slots for performances. Apparently there was a bachelor party, and the groom wanted to see you perform. It was longer, and you'd needed to come up with a couple new steps to really elevate your performance. You practiced a lot in your apartment, and you found yourself enjoying it a bit, something you hadn't felt since that night.

When it came time to get onstage, you didn't have any fear. Big performances like these meant everyone was quiet as they watched you dance, only cheering and whistling when you discarded your costume piece by piece until you were left in very flimsy lingerie.

You'd clocked the bachelor party when you walked onto the stage, but before you could get a good look at anyone but the groom, it was time for you to begin. You danced, letting the music move you about the stage and working customers for their bills. You made a point of going over to the bachelor party, all of which had lots of money in their hands. You meant to focus on the groom, but your eyes snagged on a different member of the party.

It was Harry, who looked just as shocked to see you in nothing but a lacy pink bodysuit as you would've looked had you not been in the middle of a performance. You felt weird dancing in front of the groom now, someone who was clearly Harry's friend, but it was the job.

Harry had helped you out a lot after the worst night of your life. He let you stay in his home for a few days until you were comfortable sleeping alone in your apartment again. He never asked questions about what happened or why, which you were thankful for, but you knew he wanted to.

It was fun playing house for a few days, and it took your mind off of everything that had happened. But of course life went on, and both of you had to go back to each of yours. You hadn't seen him since you left his place. When you came home, you were ashamed and embarrassed about having to need him so much. He was your doctor, not your friend, he shouldn't have had to do all that. You knew you probably should've thanked him for his kindness, he'd seen you at your absolute worst. You didn't know how to face him.

On stage while you were practically naked wasn't how you wanted to see him for the first time in a month, but life was funny like that.

When the performance was over, you were quick to leave the stage, letting the club staff collect all the bills that landed around you. Now that you were alone, you could freak out properly.

"Hey, Angel, isn't that your doctor over there?" Daisy asked you, pointing to where Harry was visible from the side of the stage.

You nodded, but still couldn't find the words to speak.

"That's your doctor? Damn, where do you go? I want to go there too," another one of the girls said. Before long, everyone but the girl who was next to perform was huddled around you, eyeing Harry and talking about how cute he was.

"He looks like one of those doctors on TV!"

"Did you see those dimples?"

"God I hope he asks for a private dance."

"Hey, this is Angel's man. She met him first," Daisy said, cutting through all the oggling.

He wasn't your man, but damn if a small part of you didn't want him to be.

"He's a doctor, you guys. He's not interested in girls like us," you said glumly.

"Speak for yourself," one of the girls said, looking at you incredulously. "I am a catch. Dr. Sexy over there should be so lucky."

All the other girls agreed, and while you admired, and somewhat envied, their confidence, you didn't agree. You were used goods, and you had nothing going for you except your next performance. Harry would never go for someone like you.

Thoughts of Harry were wiped from your mind when Derek came backstage and told you you'd been requested for a private dance. Your blood ran cold, fear sinking like a rock in the pit of your stomach. You knew this day was coming, but knowing that Harry was somewhere in the club while you did a private dance for someone somehow made it worse.

Steeling yourself, you slipped on the robe you used for private performances, and followed Derek back to one of the rooms. Being flanked by two huge bodyguards helped, but you were still nervous. And when the door opened, your heart sunk to your feet.

It was Harry. He was sitting in one of the plush chairs for customers.

You thought he was different, but how well did you really know him? Not meeting his eye, you made your way over to the stage to begin your dance.

"Wait! You don't—You don't have to do that," he said when you started peeling off your robe and reached out to stop you.

"Customers aren't allowed to touch the dancers," you said, like you were repeating it from some kind of handbook.

"No, sorry, that's not what I—that's not what I meant. Not at all," he said in a rush. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"You...ordered a private room so you could talk to me?"

"Yes, I thought this was the only way I could get you alone. Is it possible for us to talk privately without...listeners?"

"The guards stay," you said. You couldn't believe he just asked you that.

"Of course. I'm sorry, I must've sounded so insensitive just now," he said. He looked nervous. Scratching the back of his neck and not meeting your eyes.

"I've missed you coming by the office. Is that a weird thing to say?" he said suddenly, pink blooming on his cheeks.

"What do you want, Harry?" you asked, only feeling slightly bad for your short tone. But you were embarrassed enough as it was. Why he felt the need to prolong this terribly awkward moment was beyond you.

"I—I understand it's maybe not the most appropriate time, but I've actually wanted to do this for a long time, and—and you not coming to the office as much is actually helpful because doctors aren’t supposed to date their patients obviously—"

"Wait a minute," you said, stopping him before he got ahead of himself. "You're not asking me out or something like that are you?"

"Well, I'm trying, but the very large men glaring at me are slightly intimidating and not helping me find my words at all."

Harry certainly looked serious, but you couldn't quite believe him. "You don't want to date me, Harry."

"What do you mean? Of course I do. That's what I'm trying to get at here."

Was he really that dense? "Look at where we are. In what world would you want to go out with someone like me?"

You didn't like that he was playing with you this way, you almost would've preferred giving him a private dance.

“Y/n, I—I don't care about what you do for a living. If this is how you make money, that's fine with me, but don't tell me who I do and don't want to date. I like you, and if you give me a chance, I think you might really like me too."

Hearing Harry use your actual name and not your stage name made you want to cry.

Since getting this job, you'd let go of a lot of your childhood dreams. Hoping that your Prince Charming would one day come and sweep you off your feet was one of the first to go. Working in a strip club made you lose faith in men, in the world, and now, here was this perfectly decent man, asking you on a date while you were barely dressed. It was then that you noticed his eyes never dipped down once, looking at only your face the entire time you spoke. It shouldn't have mattered to you, should've been the bare minimum, but it did. In your world, it definitely did.

"I don't know what I deserved to meet someone like you, but thank you," you said, subtly trying to wipe a tear from your eye.

"Kindness isn't something you deserve, Y/n. It should be freely given."

You chose to believe he wasn't just saying all of this stuff, that he actually meant it. Maybe you would live to regret it, but you needed a bit of happiness in your life.

"Okay."

"Okay? Like, you're saying yes?" Harry looked and sounded like he couldn't quite believe it.

You nodded. "Yes. Just one date."

"I'm sure you'll change your mind about that on the future, but I'll take it," he said, his grin brighter than you'd ever seen it.

You felt something flutter in your stomach, something that felt like hope. You knew it was probably foolish to give the man in front of you a chance, but you liked this feeling you were feeling.

“Time's up," you said, but neither of you made any moves to leave.

"I'm sure I'll see you again."

You couldn't wait.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles x stripper! yn

[chimpanzeedotcom]

Nobody talks about the loneliness that comes with “looking different” and I mean that in a genetic condition way I’m sorry but just coz ur emo or goth doesn’t make u socially isolated you can take that shit off. But like growing up you look at your friends getting into relationships and you know why you’re not in one you do know. And now you’re aware that teenage relationships are insane and not good and overly romanticised by media you know this but you can’t help but just feel like you’re behind everyone and it keeps getting further from your grasp because all of a sudden you’re getting closer to your mid twenties and still a virgin because of a thousand reasons and it’s like how do I start how do I start and it’s fucked because anyone talking about looks are just average looking guys who are massive incels instead of people with actual medical conditions that are too much baggage for people to handle being in a real actual relationship or let’s face it repulse most people. It’s not fair but whatever. Whatever kills muself

[bonesandthebees]

bones bonesandthebees. please. I need to know more about stars!quackity, he is so very much my beloved guy. I know he's only in the story for a short while but he takes up so much space in my brain. he is so cool To Me. (also this is /not forced and very light hearted u of course do not Need to do anything <<333 I just wanted to lay on ur doorstep for a minute and wail about stars!q)

hmm what can I tell you about stars!quackity

well remember how in the epilogue wilbur notices quackity and schlatt are sitting next to each other at the coronation? they're not old friends if that's what you thought. they're bitter (kind of) exes but also quackity wanted to go to the coronation so he called schlatt up and was like "you're invited to this you fucking owe me so get me in the door." also he definitely once hired a hitman to try and kill schlatt after they first split but then schlatt went and got elected as president of an entire planet so quackity knew that was never gonna work out. they're also still kind of friends in a very weird "well we still have fun shit talking people together" kind of way

although quackity has his fingers in a few different types of business, for some of his smuggling he has a crew and a ship he runs to transport, uh, special deliveries between planets. his crew includes charlie, purpled, and fundy (las nevadas boys). in that chapter where quackity punched wilbur, before their confrontation quackity was on the phone with someone. I never got to mention who, but in my mind I always knew he'd been talking to charlie about something related to their smuggling business stuff lol

I don't think I ever specified how old stars!quackity was in the main story, but he's roughly around the same age as wilbur. the tattoos and the scar makes him look older than he is though, so most people think he's somewhere in his mid twenties (including phil and techno). he started working in the smuggling business when he was 13 and had his own ship and crew by the time he was 16. then he started working with phil when he was somewhere between 17-18ish, but phil had zero clue quackity was as young as he was. I don't think he finds out how old quackity is until both he and wilbur are somewhere in their early to mid twenties, and then phil has a slight crisis realizing his main black market informant was still a kid when he started working for phil

I hope that satisfied your curiosity! I love stars!quackity he was so much fun to write

#ask #anon #the stars and their children

[bitegore]

OC SMASH OR PASS: Rex ket'Aothea!

(he's fine.)

This is Rex! Rex is a twenty-seven year old burnout shapeshifter who turns into a roughly ten-foot dragon that sorta looks like a gargoyle gecko. He works as a mail carrier, but not super hard, and he knows people everywhere he goes and they know him but in spite of how he seems to have a "friend" wherever he goes no one really wants to tolerate his presence more than a couple days. This is because he is also acerbic, abrasive, a bit of an asshole, and a few other adjectives that start with a also.

PROS:

Cannot stay dead. pretty cool if you're worried about your hookups dying.

knows how to have a good time as long as you're not getting, like, sappy with it

has probably tried out every kink under the sun

extremely talented engineer who knows a lot of weird people. Can find you the most oddly specific toys imaginable and then recreate them, probably

turns into a big dragon. if ur a furry...

can find a plug with whatever you're looking for no matter where you are

sarcastic and witty

CONS:

will ask you to try to kill him mid-hookup if you manage to get past first base, will not be kidding, will forget to fill you in on half the relevant details, will be confused and annoyed if you're upset after he finally gets resurrected after about twenty minutes to three hours of him being an inert corpse

will get really uncomfortable if you try to ask him any personal shit, like "did you have fun" or "do you want to grab dinner" and will immediately find some excuse to leave

has the kind of temper where if you tell him to do (or not do) something he doesn't like very much and then insist on it happening he will start throwing threats around, but this includes requests such as "stop cursing in front of my mom"

has probably tried out every kink under the sun but not necessarily with any normal safety procedures. wlll grasp why this is a problem but not what you want him to do about it, ie, try being safe instead of just calling it good enough

the knives stay ON during sex

extremely poor communicator and would rather literally leave than talk something out. you will have to do all the work there

sarcastic, witty, and really just kind of fucking mean

If you hook up with him, never fear: no one will ever give you shit over the next person you get entangled with because they'll be way too busy being glad at least this freak isn't anywhere near them again.

#bitegore oc smash or pass #red rambles #rex

[deathsmark]

some modern verse tid bits , verse correlates with the heartsteel universe. ( look under cut for timeline )

> gifted kid but pressured into it , parents had very high expectations of him. > closeted gay , knew they would not approve at all. > rebellious goth kid lmao. > found music during high school & used it as an escape / outlet for the amount of shit he was going through. > met shen somewhere around this time & they sort of became close , was zed's first " crush " other than you know usual teenaged oh this famous person is hot. > zed & shen do the music thing together & zed teaches him guitar , they purchase zed's first actual guitar together. > his parents find out he's dedicating more time to music than his studies & lose their shit , breaking his guitar. > he leaves home & doesn't touch music for a hot minute , shen sort of nudges at him but he's almost afraid to touch his guitar. > still wanting to be fiercely independent he starts working with some underground music artists , which leads to some bad decisions involving drugs & alcohol. > his new outlet leads to tension between him & shen & they eventually end up falling out which is entirely zed's fault & he pushed him away on purpose. > it's during this time that he meets & becomes close with kayn , they are both going through it tm. > mid twenties zed sort of begins dragging his ass out of the slump , ends up making friends with some better people , does some album art for them on the side which opens up a new creative outlet. > he really gets into design & ends up seeking out a tattoo apprenticeship. > gave the guitar shen gave him to kayn , it's very emotional , telling him to treasure the music he makes & the people it connects him to. ew sappy. > he dedicates himself to tattooing & by the time he's around 30 he's working independently ( this is where he is at by the time kayn joins heartsteel & they stop seeing each other. ) > he still loves shen. ( knows how it feels to have feelings for ur bandmate looking @ u kayn and ez. )

#modern verse / band au time line #this is always open to plotting yipeee #if ur muse is in KDA / heartsteel universe i offer ui my hands. #has mellowed out alot now but early HS days had a very similar personality to kayn and i think #he takes him under his wing because he sees himself in kayn

[compacflt]

wrt your answer regarding IceMav’s overall perception of women, and how they were both unfortunately, products of their times/military backgrounds: this is a question I asked myself all the time, while reading WWGATTAI — CAN they really only have a truly equal relationship with another man? Back in chapter 1, when Ice was so deep in denial about himself and his sexuality, that he wouldn’t know what (or who) he wanted, even if it rode up-to him on a freight train, and knocked him flat out on his ass, his idea of what he thinks makes sense for him is: a simple woman who won’t ask too many questions, who will wait up for him until his ship comes home, who will purse her lips when he tells her of the violence he’s witnessed but won’t pry, who will wash and dry his uniform for him and kiss him at the sound of Reveille in the morning. ‘Cause, in his own words: Complicated women lead to complicated problems, long arguments, late nights, philosophy discussions, plans for the future.

Now, maybe it’s telling, maybe it’s not, but the closest Ice gets to semi-serious relationship with a woman, is with a PhD candidate: who doesn’t seem to fit into his very-juvenile ideal of a ‘simple’ woman, and the person he ends up choosing over her is Mav: who is a man ofc, but at the same time, is ‘simple’ in the sense that he doesn’t ask too many (or any) questions, does wait up for Ice till his ship comes home (even if Ice doesn’t explicitly want him to), probably has little interest in late-night philosophy discussions, and absolutely-zero expectations for their future. This combined with the fact that Ice confides in Jake, telling him that Mav’s the only person he’s ever been in love with, made me wonder whether Mav’s ‘simplicity’ (LOL), was a part of the reason why Ice loved him, and whether there was a sliver of a chance that maybe, Ice��did know himself just a little bit, back when he was in his mid-twenties? In Debriefing, Mav thinks to himself, that he’s slept with a lotta guys, and he’s slept with a lotta girls, and maybe, there was a 50-50 chance who he ended up with. But maybe, for Ice, it was always meant to be Mav—regardless of how many others he slept with. I mean, Mav’s clearly not washing and drying any uniforms for Ice, but he’s probably kissing him at the sound of Reveille in the morning?

lol i literally never thought of it like that but you’re so right!!! in my head it’s not exactly “ice is in love with maverick BECAUSE he doesn’t ask questions” it’s more like “maverick not asking questions ALLOWS ice to be in love with him.”

I really have spent an EXORBITANT amount of time thinking about possible moments in the story they could have talked about it—moments when they could’ve chosen not to “waste time,” depending on how you look at it, and I cannot see any foot in the door that isnt maverick literally dying & coming back from the dead. Like—the most likely moment would’ve been when they hugged each other ~halfway through debriefing when mavericks like ice always leaves—i think maverick (if he were feeling forgiving enough) could’ve whispered I love you, and it wouldn’t have gone TERRIBLY, but I literally cannot imagine ice’s response. “Ok.” Doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Uh. I, uh. Can’t, really, uh…” until mavericks like “don’t worry about it…” & who knows what happens after that.

I think the ONLY way i have come up with that actually works is—maverick nonchalantly asking anytime, “do you like me? Like, as a person. I know some people don’t like me. I don’t know. Am I a likable person? I know we’re stuck together but. Do you actually like me?” And ice going, “yeah, of course i like you! :) i didnt used to… u used to be a fuckin twerp… but…” blabbering on about how “You have no idea how respected you are… You walk into a room & everyone’s faces light up… ur so much FUN… ur the life of every party… it used to make me jealous but now it just makes me so proud to say yes i used to fly with maverick Mitchell, yes im friends with him, yes i know him… :)))” like, the truth! & then, kind of insecure, “i know some people don’t like ME…. too cold hearted etc… idk as my best friend how do you feel about ME…” & maverick goes “come on. You know how I feel about you.” and ice is like… “oh! you love me!” & “oh shit.” More complicated than that obviously but that’s literally the only way ive come up with (besides TGM doing the work for me and killing Maverick off so Ice realizes he can’t live without him) that doesn’t end with ice going “uh. uh. Well we can’t. I don’t know how to respond to that. Uh. We can’t be in a relationship because I’m not.” And maverick going “yes you are!” And ice saying “fuck you, navy first!” and leaving. (The possibility that would’ve happened if mav wanted to ask questions. my Ice has to figure it out for himself.)

idk if this is really answering ur ask. But—i love that reading wrt mavs “simplicity” and the quote from ch 1. i literally wasn’t thinking about it that way at all (like I wasn’t thinking period when i wrote it) but it makes me feel smarter than i am so thank you

#sometimes writing is a little serendipitous #i was just aiming for ices generic sexism #but ur so right mav is simple LMAOOOO #also i bet mav washes/dries his uniforms sOMEtimes… #there’s no way you could’ve known this but i have an extremely specific hc that maverick can’t fold socks #so maverick folds most of the laundry if it needs folding but ice ALWAYs folds the socks #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #asks #edts notes #am loving the implication that ice&mav are so repressed that they do separate loads of laundry so as not to get each others cooties