#OscarPedroPrideEvent2024

[qveerthe0ry]

Naked in Manhattan

Summary: Marcus has never slept with a man, Dieter's willing to remedy that - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 3: Sex/kissing Word Count: 7,730 Pairing: (college aged) Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: coming out, discussions of sexuality, brief mentions of homophobia, oral sex(m), (lots of) hickeys, frottage, cum eating, armpit stuff Betas: OBVIOUSLY @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar the loves of my life 💖A/N: I highly suggest listening to Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan before/while reading this. Totally got the vibes of this entire fic by listening to it on a walk one day

Dieter’s learned a lot in his five and a half years of college. Not really much about statistics or geology, but about people. He’s been around long enough to know that the sad little guy on his front porch steps, avoiding the party, and chain smoking cigarettes is having a rough go of it. 

“Hey buddy,” Dieter says, quietly, as not to startle the slumped figure. 

Marcus looks up at him through misty eyes and a cloud of stale Winston smoke.

“Hey.”

He’s not crying, but he’s definitely crying for help.

“You okay?” 

Dieter takes a seat on the step below him.

“Yeah, fine. Just needed air.”

Marcus gestures with the cigarette in his hand, then huffs out a laugh at the irony. 

“You’ve been getting drunk a lot lately.”

Maybe Dieter shouldn’t pry. It’s not unusual for his rented house to be filled with students coming and going at all hours of the day, between classes on weekdays or all day on the weekends. The cheap beer just shows up, as does the weed, and he doesn’t usually question it. 

But he’s closer to Marcus. So he notices more. He usually only sees him here on weekends. During the week he’s commonly found in the library or the student union, books sprawled out in front of him. He’s driven, pre-law, and has a better head on his shoulders than most people he hangs with. 

But Marcus has been at his place every night this week, either stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning or sleeping late on his couch or floor. It concerns Dieter in a way that surprises him. 

Usually it’s none of his business. 

“I haven’t had a sip,” Marcus tells him. 

And his voice doesn’t have that sharp, defensive tone Dieter was expecting. It’s more defeated than anything. 

“Yeah but what about last night?” 

Marcus shrugs. 

“And the night before? And every other night this week?”

“Just having fun,” Marcus mumbles through another drag of his cigarette. 

Dieterlooks around at his empty porch.

“Are you?” 

Then Marcus laughs. It bubbles up out of him in an almost terrifying way, and damn near immediately turns into sobs hidden behind his hands. 

“Fuck, dude, are you tripping?”

Marcus shakes his head. Dieter didn’t think so. He’s strictly an alcohol guy, won’t even touch weed. Something about the FBI and polygraph tests. Dieter finds it charming if not a bit manic. 

He keeps crying though, so hard he has to flick his cigarette out onto the dimly lit street so he can rub at his eyes. 

Dieter’s not sure what to do. Normally he’d offer someone drugs, but that won’t work. 

His hand hovers over Marcus’ shaking back for a few moments before he rests a heavy palm between his shoulder blades. 

He can feel the way Marcus’ breath shudders out of him, and tells him to start taking slow breaths. When it works, Dieter’s kind of amazed at how great he is at damage control. 

“That’s it man, just breathe.” 

Marcus nods, finally removes his hands from his face. He’s always been pretty in a very preppy way, with his perfect hair and teeth and his little dimples. He looks even prettier now, as much as Dieter kicks himself for that thought. His face is red and wet and his brown eyes are wider than they’ve ever been before. 

A few deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth later, Marcus is sufficiently calm enough to speak. 

“I’m sorry.”

Dieter waves him off. 

“Don’t be. Looks like it felt good, I might have a cry later too.”

Marcus lets out a wet chuckle and shuts his eyes as one last salty little droplet brushes past his long eyelashes. 

“Everything okay at home? You’re not failing a class, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s stupid.” 

“Girl problems?” 

Marcus laughs again, and Dieter startles a little, afraid he’s going to start back up sobbing at any moment. 

He doesn’t though. He’s quiet and avoiding Dieter’s gaze as he frantically gets another cigarette from his pack and lights it up. 

Dieter thinks he’s hit the nail on the head until Marcus takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales. 

“I’m fucking gay.” 

Dieter opens his mouth in shock, or understanding, or maybe to try and say something, but Marcus continues. 

“This whole time I’ve been gay. I don’t even— I’ve had so many girlfriends. I think they’re just nice. I’ve never— I fucking hated sleeping with them. I thought it was because it was awkward, and we’re all inexperienced? It sucked, Dieter. And I thought all guys were curious about other guys, you know? They all talk about their dicks with each other, since middle school. I just thought— and then there’s this guy… in my intro to psych class. And he’s so nice and handsome and I just always want to hang out with him. And I didn’t know why. But I want to kiss him. And I never felt that way about any of my girlfriends. And now I realize I’ve just— I’ve just been gay this whole time.”

He’s out of breath when he quits talking, but he sucks down more of his cigarette anyway. Dieter isn’t quite sure what to say to him. Usually when someone comes out to him, it’s in a less… frantic manner, more proud than anything. But this poor freshman has been on a gay crisis bender all week and is more than a little traumatized by all of it, and it’s just different with Marcus. 

“That’s um… Sounds like you’ve been going through a rough time with it.” 

Marcus sniffles and nods. 

“Been through all five or whatever stages of grief already. It’s been a long week.” 

“Are you… Upset? That you’re gay?” 

Marcus’ head lolls back to thump against the porch railing. 

“No… I’m more upset that I didn't figure it out until now.” 

“You’re still plenty young, Marcus. You’re what— nineteen?”

“Eighteen. Skipped a grade.”

Jesus. Dieter feels even worse now about thinking he’s pretty when he cries. 

“See? You’re a spring chicken, dude. You figured it out plenty quick.” 

“When did you know?” 

Dieter chews on his lip, considers lying just for Marcus’ sake, but decides against it. 

“I pretty much always knew, honestly. But I mean— I was weird anyway, you know? Never really fit in or felt I had to play a certain part or be a certain way. It just made sense. Also, my dad always said I was as queer as a three dollar bill so… that helped.” 

Dieter steals the cigarette between Marcus’ fingers to take a drag himself. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to be sorry for, man,” Dieter tells him. 

Marcus stares at where Dieter’s lips wrap around his cigarette for a bit too long, and Dieter hands it back, if only to try and stop whatever it is that’s bound to happen next. 

But Marcus takes another drag himself, and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and Dieter has never been called strong-willed. 

“What’s it like?” 

“What?”

“To be with a guy? What’s it like?” 

Dieter shrugs. 

“Depends on the guy.” 

Marcus sighs. 

“Are you uh— how do you like… it?” 

“Are you asking if I’m a top or a bottom?” 

Marcus’s face flushes a cute color in the yellow of the porch lights. 

“Both,” Dieter shrugs, “but I haven’t really done that with a lot of guys. Kind of a hassle, you know?” 

Marcus nods, but then his brow quirks up in question. 

“What do you mean? What do you— what do you do, then?” 

Dieter chuckles. 

“All kinds of things, babe.” 

He watches Marcus’ breath catch, the little stutter of his chest. 

“Would you show me?” 

Dieter rolls his eyes to distract them both from the fact that he really, really wants to. 

“C’mon, man. You don’t wanna fool around with me. I’m a loser. Go find a pretty finance boy to shack up with.” 

Maybe he’s less weak-willed than he thought. 

Marcus’ shoulders slump again, and christ, though, is he supposed to just let him leave like a kicked puppy? 

“There’s no intro to psych guy.”

It’s quiet, mumbled around his cigarette, and his eyes won’t leave his feet. 

“What?” 

“It’s you, okay? You’re my— gay awakening, or whatever. Why do you think I’ve been here all week?”

Dieter’s heart is hammering against his chest at that admission. This was not how he figured his Friday night would go.

“Free beer?” 

His joke doesn’t land. Marcus rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not like… I’m not like in love with you or anything. I just… always wanna see you. And you’re— well, you know. You’re hot. And you’re really nice to everyone. And I get this… I feel so weird when I’m around you, like, nauseous. Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

Marcus flicks yet another cigarette to the curb and makes to get up, but before Dieter can think better of it, he grips him on the shoulder to keep him seated. 

“That’s… actually really sweet, Marcus.” 

He scoffs, hides his face in his hands, and it’s so cute Dieter can’t help but smile. 

“Really— Usually people just want to fuck me, or use me for drugs.” 

Marcus groans a little, mortified, and his hands run back to mess up his pristinely styled hair. 

“Buddy, I’m serious. You’re a little charmer.”

Marcus looks up from his lap at that, scratching that neatly buzzed hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes are a little less embarrassed and a little more twinkly.

“You’re just saying that.”

Dieter shakes his head grinning. 

“No, it’s cute. Being genuine is never a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Dieter’s not lying. It’s possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. But he’s toeing a very very fine line here, with himself. Because Marcus is so pretty, and so smart, and he’s soft and kind and he’s real but he’s young. 

And Dieter’s just a Super Super Senior, a total burnout, on his way to holding the world record for The Longest College Career. He’s 23 and he’s still undecided and he probably won’t even get  a college degree after all is said and done. 

But Marcus is looking at him with those big brown eyes, watching, calculating. 

“I just— I feel like you wouldn’t judge me. If I did the wrong thing. You know?”

“I wouldn’t. Anyone who would isn’t worth your time.”

Marcus huffs. Maybe Dieter can still save this. 

“Would you… tell me? What you’d do? What I should do?”

And just like that, Dieter is hopping right over that line with both feet. 

“Kiss me.”

Marcus’ eyes grow even bigger.

“Like, right now? Here?” 

“If you want to. That’s what I’d want you to do, to kiss me right here, like you couldn’t help yourself.”

And Dieter will be damned if he doesn’t do just that, surging forward to grab the sides of his face and press their lips together. 

His lips are so soft, and his face is smooth, and he’s eager, a bit too much, but it only adds to that coincidental charm. Dieter’s left to catch up, as Marcus swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth and groans. 

Dieter pulls away. Marcus’ mouth gapes open, and his shoulders heave with his fast breaths. 

“You’re so… scruffy.”

Dieter chuckles, wipes Marcus’ spit from his lips and straightens out his mustache. 

“Not good?”

“No, god no, it’s really good.”

And then Marcus smashes their lips together again as a pathetic little sound escapes his throat. Dieter opens his mouth this time, lets Marcus slide his tongue around, a little violent, and this is all a bit too much for some front porch steps, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Dieter says softly, pulling away. 

Marcus’ brows draw up in confusion. 

“Sorry. I’m not a good kisser, am I?”

Dieter sighs, grabs one of Marcus’ hands on his face to link their fingers together. 

“It’s not that,” he says. 

He turns his face to kiss the center of Marcus’ palm and smiles when his breath hitches. 

“You really wanna do this with me?” 

Marcus is nodding before Dieter even finishes speaking. 

“Only if you really want it, too.”

Dieter squeezes his hand. 

“I do, really.”

Marcus smiles the sweetest little smile, and they both stand up, and Dieter doesn’t let his hand go. 

There’s music on in the house, and it smells like weed, and a few people are playing Nintendo in the living room. They don’t pay any mind as Dieter pulls Marcus up to the second floor, down the hall, and into his dimly lit bedroom. 

At least he’s kept it semi-tidy, he thinks, as Marcus looks around while he shuts and locks the door. His bed isn’t made. He’s sure Marcus makes his bed every morning before class. He hopes he doesn’t mind. 

He seems like he’s too nervous to mind, a jittery little thing standing next to his bed. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring holes into the stained carpet, when Dieter moves to stand in front of him. 

“Are you nervous?” 

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dieter grabs both of his hands, and Marcus finally meets his gaze. 

“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as it’s good nervous.” 

He smiles and nods, but the worry in his brow is still there. 

“We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, okay?”

That seems to soothe him more. 

“Can we kiss again?”

Dieter chuckles. 

“Of course we can.”

Marcus tips over into him, landing at the side of his mouth but quickly correcting course. He licks, but Dieter keeps his mouth shut, goading him to calm down. And he does, slotting his lips around Dieter's bottom one, and everything else slips into place with a soft, satisfied noise from his own chest. 

He lets go of Marcus’ sweaty hands to grab his hips instead, lithe and a little bony. He twitches at the touch, sighs, and presses his lips harder into Dieter’s. His hands search around frantically, jostling them both, until he finds the hem of Dieter’s sweatshirt and gets his hands underneath. 

“Slow,” Dieter mumbles. 

“Hm?”

“Not a race, Marcus. Take your time. Enjoy it.” 

Marcus nods, but gapes at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do next. 

“You wanna get comfy? Take your shoes off, sit down?”

Marcus nods again, but with a little direction, takes his shoes off and sits on the bed, criss-cross applesauce like the cutest fucking thing Dieter’s ever seen. 

“I want this to be— I want you to have a good time, feel good. So tell me if you don’t feel good… or if there’s anything you wanna try. Communication is like, super sexy, right?”

Dieter sheds his shoes and his hoodie as he speaks, thinks he catches Marcus’ eyes staring at the spot between his signature pajama pants and his shirt where it rides up. 

“Yeah… like, dirty talk?”

Dieter huffs out a laugh as he sits facing Marcus, crossing his legs, mirroring him to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Could be dirty talk, yeah. But just normal talk, too. It can be hot to talk about things like… how do you like to be touched? Where?” 

Marcus clears his throat and scratches the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face. 

“My— my dick?”

Dieter wants to laugh, but he can’t blame the guy. It sounds like the only experience he’s had so far is rushed fucks with high school sweethearts. 

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. So, for me, I like being kissed. Everywhere. I like feeling lips on my jaw and my neck and especially my nipples. You can bite, too.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his plush lips forming a circular shape that Dieter tries and fails not to focus on. 

“Oh, yeah, okay. I— I like that too. I like when it’s… sloppy.”

Dieter hums, smiles, and nods.

“Anything else you like?” 

He watches Marcus bite his bottom lip and trace shapes on the bedsheets between them. 

“I don’t really know.” 

“That’s okay. Maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks real slow, and he smiles. 

“Yeah. Thank you.” 

Dieter does chuckle then. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Christ, Dieter thinks, if his face gets any more red he might burst into flames. 

He kisses him, to save him from a fiery death. It’s a little awkward, with both of their legs crossed in front of them, but it’s easier to take their time like this. 

Marcus keeps it slow, so Dieter can finally lead. He licks into his mouth to feel his hard palate, and the way he whimpers and shivers in response is so delicious that Dieter can’t help but to do it again and again. 

He feels long fingers grip his thighs, soft at first, but squeezing harder when Marcus returns the favor and scrapes his tastebuds along Dieter’s sharp canines. 

There’s twin sighs when Marcus pulls away, only a little, eyes still shut. 

“You’re really fucking good at this,” he mumbles. 

Dieter hums and pecks his lips again, soft and wet. 

“Could kiss you all night.”

It’s true, even though there’s also a million other things he wants to do with Marcus. He tries to push those wants down by kissing him again, getting that plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. The noise Marcus makes has his cock filling steadily with blood, and he knows it’s very obvious in his pajama pants, and he hopes Marcus doesn’t freak out.

Like he’s reading Dieter’s mind, Marcus’ hands slide so fucking slowly up his thighs. The movements are jerky, and he hesitates when just the tip of his finger brushes his cock. His inhale is audible, but his curious touch proceeds, just the lightest ghosting across his shaft. 

But then he’s pulling away, and Dieter feels on edge, bracing himself for the worst. 

“Can I touch it?”

Dieter exhales his relief.

“You can… Are you open to suggestions, though?”

Marcus nods, his slick mouth hanging open. 

“You could get on top of me, let me feel how much you like this, too. Drag it out, make me really want it.” 

He smirks as Marcus curses, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to the front of his jeans. But he nods, and uncrosses his legs, so Dieter does the same. 

And then, he’s got a lapful of Marcus, and he’s staring up into his glassy, beautiful eyes. 

“Like this?”

His hips shift, and his pert little ass grinds against Dieter’s cock while his own presses against his belly. 

“Just like that. Is this still okay?” 

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just devours his lips again as he rocks his hips and supplies them both with heady friction. His little whimpers are muffled, and his teeth are sinking into Dieter’s lip a little too hard, but in a way that makes his cock throb and pulse against the tight ass against it. 

Dieter’s hands find those lithe hips again, this time under his shirt. His skin is scalding to the touch and so fucking smooth. He digs his thumbs into his hip bones, drags little circles into them that make his hips jolt and stutter. 

Fuck. He likes this a lot. Maybe too much. He pulls himself away to reel it in a bit, maybe to check and make sure this is still alright—

“I’m so fucking hard,” Marcus breathes, “I’ve never felt like this.” 

And as he speaks, he’s ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it elsewhere. 

He’s gorgeous. A little scrawny but smooth, everywhere, just miles of tan skin that’s paler here where it gets no sun. Dieter wants to bite, and kiss, and suckle on every fucking inch of it. 

For now, Dieter uses all of his brain power to mumble a distracted ‘me too,’ as his hands moved upward to splay across all that hairless skin. 

Marcus’ stomach tenses and relaxes under his hands, and his chest heaves as Dieter cradles his ribs and brushes his thumbs over his nipples. 

“Does this feel good?” 

He circles them, flicks them a little bit, and wants to curl up and live in that little gasp Marcus makes. 

“Yes.” 

His head is leaning back between his shoulders, all raised and on-edge. That’s not what Dieter wants. He wants him relaxed, wants him all gooey and loose. 

Slowly, gently, Dieter tips him over, a hand on the back of his head until it lands on the pillows. The look in his eyes gets a little squirrely, and his breath picks up, and his nails scrabble at Dieter’s bicep. 

“Is this still okay?” 

Marcus nods quickly, but he’s slower with the verbal response. 

“I think so… just nervous.” 

“Still good nervous?” 

As if to prove it, he cants his hips up into Dieter and he’s rock hard against his thigh. 

“Still good nervous.”

Dieter’s own prick throbs and twitches as he hums. He lowers himself even more over Marcus, finds his racing pulse point and plants a hot, wet kiss there. 

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispers. 

His chin brushes Dieter’s cheek when he nods, and Marcus relocates his hands to reach up the back of his shirt. His palms are sweaty and hot as Dieter trails a wet line of kisses down to his prominent collar bone. 

His skin is so salty, and the heat from his body is making his cheap cologne smell even stronger, and Dieter feels high even though he hasn’t smoked in hours. 

“How about here, Marcus?”

He looks up at the younger man as he hovers his mouth above one tiny, pebbled nipple. He watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and smiles and impish grin when Marcus nods again. 

The groan he receives when he closes his mouth around it has him pressing his hips to the mattress for relief. One of Marcus’ hands finds Dieter’s hair and grips.

“Ah fuck.”

Just like that, the fingers loosen and leave his head and Dieter actually whines at the loss. 

“Sorry!”

“No, no, that was a good fuck. Love getting my hair pulled.”

Dieter glances back up at Marcus and watches as his wheels turn. 

“Oh… really?”

He chuckles as he places a sloppy kiss on his sternum, delighted at the way the muscles twitch under his lips. 

“Mmmhmm.”

Marcus sighs as Dieter finds his other nipple.  

“My ex-girlfriend hated it.” 

Dieter nips at the hard bud in his mouth and smirks when Marcus’ hips jolt up. 

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” he explains. 

“I— can you bite me again?”

Dieter curses and obliges immediately, sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec this time. 

“God, I like that.”

He even earns another tug at his hair, and Dieter knows there’s gotta be a damp spot on the front of his pajamas. 

“That’s so good, Marcus. Keep telling me what you like.” 

Marcus squirms under him as he alternates a string of kisses and licks and bites down his torso. His nails scratch Dieter’s scalp in between tugging on his hair, and this is the most fun Dieter’s had in the bedroom in a long while. 

Marcus has a tiny bit of hair below his belly button, and it’s so fucking cute and whispy when Dieter runs his tongue along the path. But before Dieter can get the fly of his jeans unfastened, Marcus holds a hand over his. 

“Can I try on you now?” 

Dieter’s gaze flickers up to his face, and he looks so sweet, pleading with his big puppy eyes. 

“Yeah, yes, of course you can.”

Marcus smiles, and it’s sure, like he’s finally settled into this, and it makes Dieter’s apprehension fall away. 

It also makes him that much more horny, hard as ever when he lies down with his head on the pillows. He reaches down to readjust and watches Marcus clock the movement with a heady look.

“This is good for you, too?” 

His voice is breathy when he asks, when his hand slips under Dieter’s t-shirt. 

“Marcus, I’m loving this. I feel like a sexy experiment. Poke and prod me, babe.” 

And through all of this newness and anxiety and apprehension, Marcus laughs. It’s music to Dieter’s ears, watching his eyes light up as he chuckles. 

“Take this off then,” he instructs through his laughter. 

“Yes sir,” Dieter purrs, “bossing me around also does it for me. You’re a natural already.” 

“Y-yeah? I don’t— I’ve never been like that.”

Dieter fumbles to back track at the way Marcus’ confidence falls away. 

“It’s okay, that’s an advanced lesson. My bad. Just— Just do what you want with me. Explore. I’m all yours.” 

He talks as he sheds his shirt, and when the damned thing finally pulls free, he feels a little scrutinized under Marcus’s wide eyes. And he kinda really likes it. 

He settles back against the mattress, one arm above his head while the other reaches out to encourage Marcus to come closer. He does, only a little timid as his gaze rakes over every inch of his body. 

He settles between Dieter’s spread legs, one hand dipping the mattress next to him while the other lands hesitantly on his flank. His warm, sweaty palm feels the skin there, draws upward toward his chest, but takes a completely unconventional detour to his armpit. 

Dieter’s cock throbs. This is so fucking weird and so fucking hot. 

Marcus’ jaw drops slack as his fingers card through all of his armpit hair, and it tickles a little bit, but mostly it just makes Dieter’s arousal grow heavy in his groin, burning. 

Before Dieter can really assess what’s going on, or encourage him, or tell him how fucking hard he’s making him, Marcus leans down to capture his lips in his own. 

Dieter groans and scrabbles to grip his waist, arching his hips for any relief and finding it against the front of Marcus’ jeans, a hard line wrapped in denim that twitches against his own. He moans, low and long, as he twirls the thick hair between his finger and thumb. 

And then his hand is gone, and Dieter’s quite disappointed, but he can’t just say that, can he? He weighs the pros and cons of telling Marcus not to stop as the other man trails his lips down the patchy stubble on his jaw, and bites the sensitive skin on his neck. 

Maybe he should tell him. That’s a good lesson, right? How to take feedback, good or bad. But ‘hey keep stroking my armpit hair’ is a bit startling, isn’t it? 

He’s so distracted by the inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize the path Marcus’ has taken until hot breath ghosts that bit of fat between his tit and armpit and then he sniffs, and groans, and licks up all the hair while he presses his cock down into Dieter’s own and Jesus Fuck—

He quickly finds purchase in Marcus’ hair and curses, grinds his hips back up into him with what he hopes is encouraging words. But forgive him if his brain is a little bit completely scrambled. 

Marcus bites just under his patch of armpit hair, burying his nose in it once more, and these primal sounds he makes are vibrating through Dieter’s chest. All he can do at this point is lie back and take it and succumb to the fact that this is definitely altering his brain chemistry for the rest of his life. 

It all stops rather abruptly, though, and two hot hands grab Dieter’s hips hard, pushes them down into the mattress as Marcus arches away from him. 

“I might— I might come.”

Dieter blinks his bleary eyes open to look at the panicked man, who’s squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip. 

“It’s okay if you do. You can have me all night.” 

“Fuck— Shut up, Jesus Christ.”

Dieter huffs, scratches at his wet armpit, and patiently waits for Marcus to settle down. He could probably come that way too, to be honest, with that pretty boy’s tongue lapping at his underarm and their cocks grinding together. 

Marcus’ eyelashes flutter open, and Dieter smiles at him softly, careful not to move or touch. He looks like a hair trigger, sweaty and panting already, with a really fucking hot damp patch soaking through the crotch of his jeans. 

“Sorry. I think I’m good— wait, sorry, was that weird?”

Dieter allows himself to place one of his hands on Marcus’ own, where it’s still gripping tight to his hip bone. 

“It was weird in the hottest way possible.” 

Marcus shakes his head at himself and closes his eyes again. 

“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know how sensitive I was there. You’re teaching me things. That’s super hot.”

Marcus sighs. 

“It’s just… I like the hair. And your deodorant smells nice.”

He pries his eyes open, like he expects Dieter to be disgusted, but his confession only makes his cock jump very prominently in his pajamas. 

“Doesn’t taste very good, though.” 

And now Dieter is laughing, and tugging Marcus back down, mumbling ‘prove it’ and shoving his tongue into his offensively chemical-flavored mouth. 

It’s okay though, he just licks and licks until the taste has dissipated and Marcus is letting go of the death grip on his sides. His mouth follows a much more predictable route, this time, and Dieter watches his every move as those pretty lips wrap around his nipples, one and then the other, until he’s biting and Dieter is whimpering and asking for more. 

“You can leave marks. I like ‘em.” 

Marcus curses against his sternum and obeys, so fucking obedient, suckling Dieter’s skin and rolling it between his teeth. Looking up at him, his eyes look so determined, all dark and heavy, especially when he pulls away to admire the bruise he’s left. 

“More. Want to see you all over me in the morning.” 

“Fuck, Dieter. How’d you get so good at— at talking like that?” 

Dieter chuckles, then hisses when Marcus sucks the skin on his belly into the sharp edges of his teeth. He’s looking up with an expectant quirk of his brow.

“I just say what’s on my mind,” he answers.

Marcus hums, and Dieter places his hand on his jaw to feel it working, a third mark blooming bright red on his hip. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks. 

A fourth mark, this one deeper than the rest, right above the waistband of his pants, as Marcus thinks. 

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

Said cock jerks wildly, disrupting the tent in his pajamas, and Marcus has the audacity to smirk. Dieter lets his thumb trace that wet, swollen bottom lip and doesn’t miss the little whine that Marcus tries to hide. 

“Will you teach me?” 

It’s now that Dieter realizes he’s created an absolute monster, with Marcus looking up at him all wide-eyed, batting those long eyelashes. He knows what he’s doing, and it just makes it all so much worse. Or better. Both, really. 

He clears his throat to try to gather his bearings before he speaks. 

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. Pull it out for me.” 

Dieter watches as his breath hitches, and he eyes the tent in Dieter’s pants with an array of emotions washing over his features. There’s hesitation for sure, as he toys with his waistband. But he’s licking his lips, and taking a big deep breath as he tugs them down Dieter’s thighs. 

And then he’s staring at his cock, swaying in the breeze, and Dieter thinks this would be much less intense if penises weren’t so offensive and in your face. 

“Pretty,” Marcus mumbles, and it makes him giggle. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, it’s— I like it.” 

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.” 

Marcus rolls his eyes but smiles. 

“I can touch it?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything you want. Go at your own pace.”

Maybe it’s cliche, but as soon as Marcus’ hand wraps around his cock, Dieter is done for. Fuck, it feels so good, the way his movements are gentle and calculated, the way he’s being so attentive for his first time, exploratory. His free hand cradles Dieter’s sac, his thumb tracing the seam, and it’s alarming how close this is getting him. It’s so intimate, and genuine, and it’s so hot that he gets to be here for Marcus’ first time. 

Marcus squeezes him tight and strokes, once, from base to tip. He thumbs at his frenulum, slippery with pre come, then lifts that to his lips. It’s like slow motion when he watches him poke his tongue out to taste, and he closes his eyes and hums. 

“Better than the deodorant, for sure.” 

And Dieter’s cock bobs as he laughs. 

“That’s a relief.” 

“I’ve never tasted my own before,” Marcus says. 

“No?” 

“Mm-mm. Seemed… gay.” 

And he laughs at himself, but his face inches closer, and in an instant his tongue is flicking out to lap up more of it, straight from the source. 

Dieter gasps at the contact, so sudden. His taste buds are rough against his slit, in a good way, and he has to cradle Marcus’ neck to reel himself in. 

“That’s so good,” he whispers, “keep doing that.” 

And he does, little kitten licks to the sensitive head of his cock, looking up at him from under those long eyelashes. Dieter groans and closes his eyes because if Marcus keeps looking at him like that, he will come before he can have any fun with him. 

Then, in an instant, he’s completely enveloped by warmth and wetness, too fast, and he opens his eyes at the same time Marcus gags and coughs and pulls off of him. 

“Jesus, Marcus, take it slow.” 

He coughs more, with brow all furrowed and frustrated, and Dieter smooths his hair off of his forehead. 

“Are you alright?” 

Marcus clears his throat as he nods. 

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t— I thought that would be easier.”

Dieter huffs, sits up a bit and leans on his elbow so he can see him better. His eyes are watery and not in a sexy way this time. He pets Marcus’ hair a bit, hoping to soothe him, but the redness doesn’t fade from his cheeks. 

“You don’t have to take it all, that’s no fun, choking like that,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.” 

“No! No— I don’t wanna stop. I’m just embarrassed.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. I threw up on the first dick I sucked.” 

“Gross, dude.”

“I’m just saying, it could be way worse. Nothing to even be embarrassed about.” 

Marcus sighs and hides his face in the crease of Dieter’s hip. 

“Seriously, I’m still so hard I could shatter diamonds. You’re so fucking hot, it doesn’t matter if you choke a little.” 

He feels Marcus’ teeth on the skin of his hip before he sees his jaw moving. He bites and sucks and it’s another beautiful piece of him he’ll get to take from this experience. 

“That’s it. It’s all about the recovery. Fuck, Marcus, your mouth feels so good on me. Everywhere.” 

Dieter lifts his hips up to encourage him to bite more, mark him up all over. He follows eagerly, until there’s little love bites scattered across the thin skin over his hip bone and his cock is weeping for attention. 

Marcus looks up at him, finally, as he hovers just above his prick.

“Can I try again?”

Dieter hums and cards his fingers through his thick brown hair. 

“Play until you win, babe.” 

He’s much more careful, this time. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, lets his tongue lather and swirl around it as his hand keeps his dick in place. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes shut in concentration. 

“Yeah, just like that, fucking perfect.”

Marcus whimpers around his cock, and drool is starting to leak from the corners of his mouth and drip down Dieter’s shaft. 

“Move your hand a bit, jerk me off while you suck on it.”

He follows the direction so well, letting his hand draw up to meet his lips, then back down, over and over, and Dieter can feel his gut growing hot and tight. His tongue is working him relentlessly, and he’s never really had a partner use theirs so much, but the frantic swirling and flicking has his head spinning. 

“You’re amazing,” Dieter breathes, “making me feel so good.”

At the encouragement, Marcus braves another inch of his cock. He starts to bob his head up and down, following his lips with his fist, and the breaths through his nose get heavier. Dieter babbles a bit, just encouraging words as Marcus works him dutifully, trying with all his might not to thrust up into his hot, sloppy mouth. 

But then Marcus looks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and groans around the cock in his mouth and it’s too much. 

“Fuck— fuck, Marcus, let me go.” 

Marcus does, as quickly as he can, panting when his mouth is finally free. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Dieter huffs. 

“Nothing, you’re perfect, gorgeous, beautiful. I just don’t wanna come yet.” 

“Oh.”

The little cock drunk smile he gets is too cute, and Dieter tugs lightly on his hair to get him to crawl back up for a kiss. He tastes like pre-cum, and his nails bite into the heated skin of Marcus’ back for purchase. 

“How are you feeling? Still gay?” 

Marcus laughs against his lips. 

“The gayest I’ve ever been.” 

Dieter collapses back on the pillows to look up at him. 

“Really though, are you still into this?” 

Marcus nods, presses his hips into Dieter’s thigh to swipe away any last remaining doubt. 

“Alright, next and final lesson. Get those tight little jeans off.”

He’s so quick to obey, and Dieter tries not to gawk at how much bigger that wet spot has grown just below his fly. He shakes himself out of it and gets his pajama pants completely off his legs. 

Marcus is so fucking hot, jesus, Dieter feels like he’s pushing his luck having him here in his bed. So lean and long, and his cock is uncut and curves a bit to the left, and he’s still so hard. 

“Get beside me, face me.”

And Marcus looks right at home like this, laid out in his bed, with his bicep bulging from propping his head up on his hand. 

“What’s the lesson?” 

Dieter smirks at the eagerness. 

“I’m gonna jerk us off together.”

Marcus raises his brow. 

“Like, at the same time?”

Dieter hums his affirmative, reaches a tentative hand out to cup Marcus’ pert little asscheek, and chuckles when he twitches. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time. If you want.” 

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

And isn’t that gonna be fun? The thought makes Dieter’s cock throb and jerk and he shuffles to close the distance so their pricks line up together. 

“Is this okay? Like this?” 

He looks up from their cocks to watch Marcus’ jaw go slack. 

“Oh god, ‘m not gonna last at all.”

Even as he says it, he’s wrapping his own hand around both of them and squeezing, groaning at the feeling and bucking his hips so they slide together. 

“I don’t want you to last, I want you to feel good.” 

Dieter lets his hand join the fun, covering what Marcus can’t, and his cock jumps in their combined hold when Marcus whines.

“I do, I— fuck, I really do.” 

“Kiss me?”

He’s cut off by Marcus’ lips, all swollen and hot against his own. Marcus moans as soon as their tongues meet, and he starts shaking like a leaf. His hand squeezes harder around their pricks, works them faster, and Dieter can feel each and every twitch of his dripping cock. 

He’s so frantic with it. His breathing whistles fast through his nose, panting into his mouth, and every other exhale is a desperate little noise. It only takes a few dozen strokes for Marcus to fall apart.

“Gonna come— I’m coming, Dieter—”

He gasps as it washes over him. Dieter feels his hot, sticky cum splash over his own hand and his cock and his stomach. Marcus hides his face in the crook of Dieter’s neck and bites as it courses through him. It sends a hot white spark down his spine, and what little filter he’d maintained throughout the night completely short-circuits.

“Shit, that’s it. So fucking good, coming all over me— Fuck, Marcus, you’re hot when you come. You feel so fucking good.”

Marcus whimpers through his aftershocks as Dieter fills his ears with whatever filth he can muster. When it’s too much, and Marcus has to slide his spent cock from their joined hands, he doesn’t let go of Dieter. He helps, with the slick aid of his cum, and Dieter topples over the edge with a growl and Marcus sucks another mark into his overheated skin. 

It’s blinding, it’s his favorite orgasm he’s ever had for sure. Marcus gasps when the first streak of his spend shoots all over his smooth stomach. 

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, exerted but intrigued as Dieter fucks their fists. 

His cum mixes with the stains Marcus already left on his blanket, slowing to a trickle just as Marcus’ grasp loosens. Even when he’s empty, Dieter can still feel the orgasm buzzing through his body as he tries to regain his breath. 

Marcus finally looks up from the scene of the crime and Dieter wants to take a picture of the fucked-out look on his face, his messy hair, his spit-slick lips and flushed face. But he can’t, so he kisses him instead, closing his eyes so maybe he can burn that image into his memory for eternity. 

It’s lazy, so much slower and softer than the way Marcus kissed when he was all keyed up. 

Shit.

Dieter’s in for it. He’s always had an addictive personality, and having Marcus in his bed has been stronger than any fucking drug he’s tried before. 

He whimpers when Marcus pulls away, chasing his lips just for a moment before he reels himself back in. 

He looks down at the mess he’s going to promptly ignore, thinks about how far away the bathroom closet is with all the towels. But then one slender finger is swiping through the cum puddle between them, and lifting to his face, and Dieter devours. 

Marcus chuckles at the desperate noise Dieter makes as he swirls his tongue around to lick up every last drop. 

“How do we taste together?” 

Goddamn, Marcus is much more suave after an orgasm. 

“Like we were made for each other.” 

Christ, he needs to get himself together. His brain is just so fucking fuzzy and light.

Marcus doesn’t run for the hills, though. He giggles, and dips that same finger into their mess again. He brings it up to his own lips this time, sucking it inside his mouth and pulling it out clean. 

There’s a slight grimace as he rolls it around in his mouth. 

“Not as sweet as you were earlier.” 

And Dieter laughs, brushes his two cleanest knuckles against the skin of Marcus’ hip. 

“It’s an acquired taste.” 

Marcus nods, and looks down between them, and some of that lightness in his features fizzles out. 

“Hang on— here, use these.”

Dieter hands him his discarded pajama pants, and they use one leg each to tidy up their hands and stomachs and cocks. Then Dieter balls them up to swipe at his sticky blanket as best as he can. And it’s all so quiet, as their breathing has evened out, and fuck, what if Marcus has some crazy post-nut clarity after this… heavy situation? 

He’s staring at the bedroom door when Dieter looks up to face him. 

“Should I uh… go… now?” 

Dieter sighs and finally gets his freshly wiped hand on Marcus’ skin, colder now where all the sweat has cooled. 

“Personally, I would like it if you stayed. Cuddling after sex is… well, I like it a lot. Some people don’t… it’s okay if you don’t. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This was probably a lot for y—”

Marcus cuts off his rambling— thank god— by burrowing his face in Dieter’s chest and tangling their naked legs together. They both release two huge twin sighs, and Dieter’s instantly soothed by the weight against him, and the lithe fingers stroking his back. 

Dieter can’t help it, he tucks his chin and plants a kiss to the crown of Marcus’ head. He drowns in the scent of sweat and cheap shampoo and feels so grounded for the first time in a very long time. 

Marcus hums, and Dieter pulls him in tighter, swipes his palm over the curve of his tiny asscheek. 

He clears his throat. 

“I don’t have any plans tomorrow…” 

Marcus lifts his head, and he looks so sleepy but so satisfied. 

“So we can stay up all night? You can— could you show me more things?” 

Dieter chuckles and kisses his lips to hide how relieved he feels. 

“Was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie or something. But I think I like your idea better.” 

“Oh— a movie sounds good! I mean, it would be chill.” 

Dieter huffs. 

“Split the difference, we’ll watch a movie here while I eat your cute little ass?” 

Dieter actually feels his limp cock twitch against his thigh, and tries to hold back a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Yep. Yeah, let’s do that instead.” 

Dieter kisses him, this time just because he can. 

“Get some sleep first, okay? I’ll be right here.” 

The look of comfort on Marcus’ face makes his chest burn and ache. His droopy eyelids close as he smiles, and his head drops to Dieter’s splayed out arm. 

He just watches, for a little while. Lets himself count the deep, even breaths Marcus takes and feels them on the skin of his bicep. 

His arm is gonna go numb in about two minutes tops, and he’ll cherish every pinprick until he drifts off.

[romanarose]

Awake

Fem!Reader x Santiago Garcia, Francisco Morales, Ben Miller, Will Miller Santiago Garcia x Will Miller Ben Miller x Francisco Morales

All TF boys and reader mix except Miller Brothers

Awakening Series masterlist

YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ ANY OF THE OTHERS! There's a good story here about coming out, bisexuality, literally "awakening". This is the finally, where everyone is awake.

Written for my (day late lol) Oscar Pedro Pride Event, week 3, Sex/kissing!!!

Summary: You take Santi, Will, Frankie, and Ben all inside you at once. That's the fic.

Warnings and content: Literally everything. BJ's, triple penetration, double vaginal penetration, bukake, just like. im not listing everything happening but its a lot. everything bisexual. Then aftercare!

A/N its been NINE MONTHS!!! since i updated. I get it if no one cares anymore lololololol. Anyway THIS IS IT!!! the end!!!!!

*********************

It was amazing how, after all these months, the stretch of Will’s cock still got to you having to catch you breath.

Things were good, really fucking good these days. You, Will, and Santiago had a discussion about the relationship; firstly, between you and Santi where you both agreed that yes, you both wanted Will involved. You weren't sure how or if he really wanted to, but he meant too much to both of you to just keep pretending it was the same as when Ben or Frankie were inside you. Then, you talked to Will. He agreed that yes, he had feelings for both you and your husband. However, he was not at a place right now; he didn’t want to move too quickly. So you didn’t. Will came over sometimes and stayed the night, fucked you and Santi and got fucked in a tangled up mess on the bed… no labels, just taking it easy.

On the other side of things, Ben moved out of Will’s and in with Frankie a week after the camping trip. They were completely inseparable and 2 months later, engaged. 3 months after that, you were standing as a witness in a courthouse for their wedding and cooking multiple hot plates for a backyard potluck reception. Frankie was not one for being in the spotlight, and Ben was not one to dress up.

Now, you watch as your husband lay on the bed next to you, Frankie fucking his ass while his own husband eats him from behind. Your tits bounced with each thrust of Will’s hips, your arms wrapped around his back and stuck to it with sweat. You watch, Will’s breath against your neck, as Santi writhes in pleasure, hips bucking up to meet Ben’s mouth. Your hands were laced together.

Santi turns to you, smiling with his eyes glancing over your body. “You look…” He pants. “Really fucking good like this.”

You laugh a little. “So do you.”

You both grin at each other, unbelieving of your luck to find such a group. 4 men who you trusted with your life and your body to take care of you, and for you to take care in return. Will gently cupped your face, guiding your mouth to where his waited. His touch was a stark softness compared to the way his cock continued to pound into you. 

“You doing okay, princess?” He took your lower lip with his as he pulled away, drawing out the tender kiss. Beside you was the sound of Santiago getting absolutely fucking railed by Frankie. 

“I’m fucking fantastic.” You confirm, then nod to Santi with a cheeky smile. “I don’t know about him, though.”

Santi’s grip on your hand was like a vice, head propped back as he was practically screaming on his oldest friends dick.

Will chuckles. “He’s still not used to taking a dick.”

Careful as to not reject Will’s affections, you nudge him off you. You feel empty without him inside, but your husband calls. “Baby…” You caress his face after crawling next to him, knelt by his side. Your hand reaches out for Frankie, but he’s already slowing. “Baby are you okay?” You protected Santiago the way he always protected you.

Slow and bleary, Santiago opened his eyes, chuckling with disbelief. “I’ve never been better, baby girl.”

*

You and Ben lay up against your husband's arms, both your men feeding you water. Santi reminds Will to drink, and he does before wiping off you, Santi, and Frankie with a cool towel before passing it to Frankie for Ben. Will always watched out for Benny during group sex just as on the field, but was not about touch during these moments. As Will watched his brother smile in Frankie’s arms, however, he knew he was okay. Frankie took care of him.

Ben turned to you with his dopey grin. “How does it feel watching your husband regularly get his ass stretched?”

This makes you laugh, and you give him a kick. “Pretty fucking good, especially if I’m sitting on his face.”

*

Santi’s arms were wrapped lovingly around you, chest to chest, his dick deep up inside your swollen and tired pussy. He’d gone in easy, and you signed as Frankie bottomed out into your ass. Two down, two to go.

Frankie’s massive hands played with your hair, his mouth kissing your neck, moving up to nibble on your earlobe. “You feel me, baby? Feel me and Santi right up in you?” He gave a thrust inside, making Santi’s chest rumble in pleasure. “I can sure feel him, mmm, fuck, it’s just… I can feel that thick vein of his when I move.”

“I know just what you mean.” You say with a smile, egging him on. Santiago had the most perfect cock you’d ever seen in your life; long, thick, and veiny. Curved up just a little bit in a way that hit you juuuust right. “Gotta feel him inside you one of these times, Frankie” You right back and grab his thigh. “He fills you up in just the best way.”

The older man looks up to where Ben stood at the edge of your bed, hands soothing you and stimulating erogenous zones. He sometimes pauses to play with your hair, which you particularly love. When Ben sees Francisco looking at him, he goes for a kiss.

“I’d love to see that, Fish.” He likes his tongue over his lover’s face. “Watch Santi struggle to take you, watch him fucking whimper on your cock.”

Frankie was equally enthralled as Will situated himself in the back, getting ready to slide in right there with Santi in your cunt. Will’s hand splayed across Frankie’s ass, thumb sliding into his asshole as he moved his fellow soldier around right where he needed to be. In general, Francisco liked to take charge in the bedroom, but when it came to Will, everyone fell under his order. He was tall, large, companding but had the competence to back it. The last time you were all together, Santiago stayed on the sidelines for the most part to make sure you were safe and happy. Now, however, you’d all experienced so much, he trusted all the men to take care of you, take care of him, take care of each other. Now, Will slides into his natural element as the leader.

Squeezing an ample amount of lube on his hand, he covered not only his cock but added it to Frankie and Santi. You had no problems getting wet and they always took careful time to open you up, but he wasn’t taking chances with your precious body. His thumb was obviously nothing compared to Ben’s dick, but he wasn’t trying to split him up, just to add to the pleasure of being inside you. Santi languidly kissed at your lips as Will spoke to Frankie.

“I’ll fuck this tight little hole of yours while you’re inside Santi, hm? Thrust into you hard enough I drive you into him?”

Frankie moans at the thought, and Benny bends down to join in this kiss between you and Santi. You both excitedly welcome him in, tongues wrestling as he kisses between words. “And I can fuck our favorite lady while you guys are our personal porn.”

Santi sucked on your bottom lip. “Want me to be your pornstar, mi amor? You like watching me take it up the ass for you to get off to?” He punctuated his point with a harsh thrust up, spearing his cock inside. The moans from Frankie were nothing compared to the sounds you let out. He looked over your shoulder at Will. “She’s ready, fill her up.”

With his thumb continued to fuck Frankie, Will’s other hand was firmly placed on your ass. It wasn’t for guidance or smack or to massage… it was just there to ground you. You cry out against Santi’s neck you were sucking on, Will slowly and carefully inserting himself into you. There's so much of him to take, inch after inch it never seemed to end. Santi’s hands went to Will’s hips, stopping him. He wasn’t going to be able to bottom out just based on the sheer amount of people occupying a small space, but what he was able to fit in was almost too much. When Will stops, Santi holds your face. “You okay, bebita?” He asks you gently. “Is it too much?”

You take a deep, steadying breath and shake your head. It was a lot. Like a fucking a lot. “No, no I think I’m good.”

“Princess.” Will spoke above you. “We don’t wanna do nothing based on ‘I think.’ If you gotta stop or slow down, we want you to tell him.”

Considering his words, you believe him. You knew firmly that they would never want you uncomfortable outside of the stretch you begged for… And you probably could take them all fully… but you decided to call it. 

“Just…” You turn around to see his softly smiling face, Will’s beard still glistening with your wetness, Frankie’s chest sticking to your skin. “Don’t go any further, okay? The stretch is good, you don’t gotta take it easy or nothing just…”

Will bent around Frankie to kiss your lips, tender and sweet before Ben takes your mouth. “I got you, princess. I won’t push it.” And you knew he wouldn’t. Last but not last was Benny. You could understand why Frankie and him were always sneaking away to suck each other's dicks, Ben had a nice one indeed, one you enjoyed as he slid into your mouth. 

Santi in your pussy, holding you and Frankie both close. He fucked up into you, cock rubbing against Will’s where they were nestled in together. Will wrapped an arm around Frankie, playing with his nipples as Frankie humped his ass against Wills torso while fucking you in yours. His moans were swallowed by Ben, who kissed his husband while fucking you throat.

“Mi chica perfecta…” Santi whispers between wet kisses to your skin. “Letting me and my friends use all your holes, let off some steam… letting us break you in…”

You whimpering against Ben’s dick in affirmative. You loved degradation, you loved being objectified and they all knew it, because after it all was said and done, they touched you and cared for you in such a gentle way that assured you that they loved you in all their unique ways.

Soft stroke of a thumb over your ass steadied you as you listened to the kissing above you and Santi. Will’s gentle reassurance compared to hard pounding you were taking from behind. 

“Could’ve used something like her back in the service, couldn’t we boys? Something fuck after a long day, a pretty little toy.”

Frankie disengaged from Ben, a string of spit connecting them for a few moments longer. “Maybe we wouldn’t have waited 20 years to come out of the closet.”

“Speak for yourself.” Ben laughs, thrusting into your mouth. “I took full advantage of the frequent moving around and secretive bars.”

“Slut” Will laughs, shaking his head at his baby brother's antics.

Santi spoke from below you, never stopping humping his hips up. “You’re one to talk, IronHead.” This resulted in a smack to Will’s thigh. You felt full beyond belief feeling yourself approach orgasm as the men you loved use your holes and your body, bringing you and each other pleasure. Ben alternates between thrusting into your mouth, then pulling out and putting it to Frankie’s lips. Benny is quick with praise for you and Frankie, never making you feel like you were just an aid to their relationship despite the degrading teasing. Behind you, Will and Santi’s hands were all over each other and Frankie, Santi even reaching back at points to plays with Benny’s tightening balls. 

“You feel that, Will? Our princess is getting ready to come for us again.” Santi laughs mockingly, but you are. What on earth is going to feel like coming on 3 dicks? You can’t imagine having room to even clench right now, your body stiffening in pleasure and pain as everything became so dizzyingly good. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the joy, the closeness, the extreme trust that it takes to pull off something like that. The love that is found, romantic, friendship, brotherhood in multiple ways. Will managed to hike up Santi’s ass just enough to stuff his fingers inside, making both Santiago and Francisco moaning like moans on Will’s fingers, Ben guiding them to kiss. You join in, and so does Benny’s dick. You, Fankie and Santi slobber and kiss and suck in such a mess that half the time you don’t know whose skin you are kissing.

You pussy and ass begins to feel raw, the pleasure still whirling in your stomach but beginning to be distracted by the discomfort between your legs. You tap Santi, wet lips against his cheek as you’re barely aware of anything else. “Approaching yellow, baby” You warn, punctuating it with a kiss so he knew it wasn’t anything serious. Santi could sometimes get dom drop. It wasn’t often, but you liked to make sure he knew everything was okay.

Holding up a hand, Santi halted everyone’s movements. Will rested his head against Frankie’s lower back, panting. Ben dropped to his knees to take your hand in his. Frankie kissed your sweaty shoulder blades. 

But Santi is who you communicated to. You trusted them all, but Santi will always be your husband, your baby, tu amor. 

“You okay, bebita?” He asks with a gentle timber, his low voice rumbling against your chest.

“I’m okay, I just think after I come, I wanna get to the grand finale.” You say with a laugh and a kiss.

He kisses you right back, signaling everyone to get back to work. Ben, instead of fucking your mouth, stays on his knees to massage your neck and shoulders. “Come whenever you're ready, darl’n.” Ben’s absurdly deep voice tells you.

It takes less than a minute and you’re coming on 3 hard dicks stuffed inside your holes, Will letting out a guttural sound that told you it was taking everything in him not to come inside you. You shake under the force of your orgasm, finger nails digging into Santi’s soft, bare skin. Everything was so fucking perfect, your senses blocking out anything that wasn’t immense pleasure. You couldn’t hear a word of their praises, you couldn’t smell the musk of marathon sex, you couldn’t see the men who swarmed around you like bees to their queen. You were blinded by the light.

Santi kissed your skin, no longer moving. He knew how sensitive you could get after coming. 

“Everyone ready?” He asked, Frankie desperately humping your ass, chasing the high.

“Fuck, I’m so close…”

“Have Benny get you there, I think she’s sore.”

And you were. You were actually quite sore and you were glad you had someone who knew you as well as Santiago did to watch out for you. You were perfectly fine saying no, stop, not yet, later, etc. You trusted Frankie completely. But it was nice to have someone who knew you so completely that you didn’t even need to say it.

Frankie got up with no problem, kissing your lips and whispering a thank you. Ben spits in his hand, and while they make out like teenagers he brings Frankie to the brink. Ben grabbed the wipes, cleaning his husband off in case you end up blowing him. You knew you didn’t want any ass to mouth action. Santi and Will slowly get out of you, leaving you feeling empty without them. You look forward to whatever the future holds for the three of you, whatever parts Will was willing to give. Will’s massive arms pick you up, careful when he sets you on your knees on the carpet.

 Seeing 4 gorgeous, stacked, hung men standing in front of you… you were revived and needed a taste. You put Santi’s dick in your mouth first, fisting Ben and Frankie, then alternating to taste all four of them in your mouth. Delicious.

Then, then all swarm you, jerking their cocks rapidly until cum came flying out, splattering your face, your tits, your laved out tongue in white. They dump their hot spend on you, groaning and grunting and kissing each other and all you could hear was the sounds of their pleasure and the fap, fap, fap of their masturbation. 

When they were done, they wiped their tips in their hair.

*

Santi washed your hair in the shower, Will’s arms around you keeping you steady. The water was warm, not too hot, and he was very careful cleaning you and Will up. They both dried you with warm towels, as Frankie drew Ben in. You liked that Frankie washed Ben’s hair too, despite a 4 inch height difference. Will took you to bed while Santi made sure Frankie and Ben had enough towels and knew where shower items were. 

For a while, you just lay there in Will’s arms, listening to Frankie tell Ben to “stop messing with the water” and “it doesn’t need to be hotter, this ain’t a hot tub!” followed by Ben yelping how the water is too hot. You can feel Ben laugh. Santi gives you and Will water, instructing you both to drink as he settles into bed on the other side of Will. When Frankie and Ben return, Ben is carrying a butt naked Frankie, ass first, over the shoulder and into the room before flopping him down on the bed. 

“It’s my turn to take care of you, idiot.”

And he did. He dried Frankie off, gave him water, fed him some raisins which you though was odd but to each their own.

“Santiago, why don’t you ever feed me raisins?” You teased him.

“Because I love you, they are sickos.”

Will kissed your forehead. “I’ll feed you raisens, princess.”

“I don’t even like raisins.”

Will groaned. 

But they all slept there that night, in your marital bed, tangled up and limbs on limbs, arms slung across wastes and lips to skin.

It was nice like this.

******************

Well, after a year and a half i finally finished this bitch!!!! one less series to worry about!!!!

Pease let me know what you think, I sure hope this was worth it! Begining was hard to write, but once i got in the zone it's all over!!!!

I hope y'all enjoyed it! I sure enjoyed writing it!!!!

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[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (interlude) "skin"

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: E (18+) content: talks about top surgery, river is afab and nonbinary, pwp, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms (referenced), overstimulation, nipple play, dom!frankie, sub!river, praise kink, takes place sometime after ch7, could be read as standalone as long as you know that this is frankie's first relationship with a nonbinary person. i promise river will get to dom tf out of frankie next time lol word count: 1k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta: @scenaaario

a/n: written for @romanarose 's pride event, for the prompt: "transitioning". thank you so much for reading! ♥

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“Frankie, I’m–!”

“I know, amorcito,” Frankie grinned, panting into River’s ear. His lips latched onto their shoulder and sucked hard, hips hammering into them. “Another.”

River panted underneath him, face twisted in pleasure and flushed a deep red color. They gripped the sheets in tight fists and their face was buried into the pillow. Drool, sweat, and bite marks covered the soft material. “I–I can’t,” they whined.

“Do you need to stop?” Frankie breathed, slowing down the speed of his hips, but not letting up on the intensity.

“N-no! Please, keep going,” River groaned weakly. They turned their head to look back at him, eyes glazed over and pupils dilated. 

Frankie’s face softened a little as he looked them over. Their long, inky black hair was stuck to their sweaty skin, covering them like a blanket. Those big green eyes of theirs were pleading with him to let them come. 

He gripped their hips, large hands feeling more powerful than they usually did when his thumbs dug into the dips and dimples there. He turned their body onto their side and lifted one of River’s legs to rest on his shoulder. Each of his knees were planted on either side of one of their other thigh.

Frankie slowly eased back inside of them, the stretch making River moan openly. “Good,” he praised, the hand not holding their leg in place pressed to their stomach comfortingly. “Taking me so well, baby.”

River bit their lip and watched his face closely, their eyebrows turned downward in pleasure and pleading. Frankie started picking up the pace again, the obscene wet suck of River’s pussy pulling him in further and echoing in their ears. “Oh, fuck,” River whined, head lolling back into the pillow. They panted hard, their chest heaving rhythmically with each of Frankie’s deep thrusts.

From this angle, Frankie could see everything; their damp skin, the way River’s lips trembled, and the way their tattoos glistened in the low light of his bedroom. His eyes dragged over the defined muscles of their thighs and trim waist, then landed on the distinct scars on their chest. 

“Play with your nipples for me,” Frankie breathed, hips bucking into theirs. He looked down and watched as his cock fucked into them, the sight of River’s slick covering his cock giving him chills down his spine.

River obeyed, tweaking their nipples as the heat built in their core. “F-Frankie, I’m gonna fucking come,” they whined. 

“Do it. Come for me,” grunted Frankie, planting one foot on the mattress to drive into them harder.

River let out an obscene noise before stilling as they came, their hips bucking with the waves of their high. 

“Good, Río,” Frankie panted, and leaned over to kiss them deeply as they shook with the aftershocks. “So fucking good,” he groaned into their mouth, the lewd plap plap plap of their hips sending him over the edge with them. He bit and tugged on their bottom lip as thick ropes of come covered the walls inside them. 

River hummed and purred like a happy cat at the warmth and sticky feeling between them. They brought their leg down and curled it around Frankie’s waist, their arms doing the same at his neck. “C’mere,” River breathed, kissing him languidly and tangling their fingers in his damp curls.

Frankie got comfortable and laid on top of them, softening cock still inside them snugly. Their kisses were lazy, but deep, and lasted for a long time. River always got especially clingy and affectionate after sex, and Frankie was hardly going to complain.

Eventually, they came up for air, and looked at each other. River snorted at his hair sticking up in all directions and pecked his cheek. “I gotta pee so bad,” they groaned. Frankie laughed and slowly pulled out, watching as his come dripped out of them. He smirked at the sight, thumb rubbing at River’s inner thigh.

After River went to the bathroom and Frankie removed the dirty sheets, they got comfy under the covers and cuddled close. Frankie looked down at their head, hair now pulled back into a loose braid. “I’ve got a question for you, Riv,” he said softly.

“Anything,” River smiled, kissing his pec before looking up at him. 

“How bad was it?” 

River raised a brow and frowned. “How bad was what?”

“Your… When you got top surgery.”

River blinked, but smiled softly. “Where did that come from?” They chuckled.

Frankie blushed, his eyes going wide. “W-well, I was just curious! When we– While I was on top of you, well. I looked at the scars, and I just sort of wondered.”

River laughed quietly and cupped his face. “Do you wanna know the whole process, or…?”

Frankie shrugged. “Only if you wanted to tell me.”

River hummed, exhaling a heavy breath as they thought about it. “Well, the healing process sort of sucked. I slept like shit.”

Frankie frowned, concerned.

“I’m fine now,” they rolled their eyes playfully, poking him in the nipple. “But my left nipple still isn’t as sensitive as it used to be.”

Frankie looked down at their left nipple and tweaked it teasingly. River giggled, and covered it protectively. “Hey!” 

He grinned and gave them a kiss on their shoulder. “Go on,” he chuckled.

“But yeah,” River continued. “I had a really good friend come with me and we both cried afterwards. It felt… right. I think I even told him that I was always meant to look that way.”

Frankie’s eyes rounded softly. “Oh, Río,” he smiled. “I’m sad I wasn’t there.”

“Me too,” River nodded. “But you’re here now. And now I don’t even remember what it felt like to have breasts.”

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “I love you, River,” he said softly, cupping their face and rubbing his thumb on their cheekbone.

“And I love you,” River grinned, kissing him deeply. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Wondering. Accepting me,” they shrugged, looking at a freckle on his chest.

“Of course,” Frankie said seriously, making them look back up at him. Deep brown eyes bore into green, and it made River’s breath catch. “Always.”

And River believed him when he said it, too.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Deal Breaker

Trans!Santiago Garcia X GN!Reader • Rating: PG  Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info •

A/N: Written for @romanarose's Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024! (Super late, but this is for the 'coming out' theme, thank you for letting me post it so late💚) This is super self-indulgent and just like *dreamy sigh* what would be the nicest reaction someone would have to someone else telling them they're trans.

Summary: Santi has something to tell you.

Warnings: overuse of italics, swearing, Santi being anxious, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 1014

Santi paced back and forth outside of your house, practically wearing a groove into the pavement. (And trying not to walk into the lamp post again.) 

He’d been there for over ten minutes, trying his best to work up enough nerve to knock on your door. 

You’d been on one date, a chill one. Just a drink and cake at a little coffee shop he’d recommended. (Or, more correctly, Will had recommended and Santi had taken credit for.) You’d both ended up staying there talking for almost four hours. 

You've been messaging everyday, joking, sending voice notes, videos and pictures. Everything was going great. He liked you. A lot. 

And now he was going to fuck it all up. 

“Hi, just wanted to let you know…” He muttered under his breath, repeating what he was going to say, what he needed to say. “I just thought you should know… you know… before this gets any further, not that things have to get further, I mean… I want to say I like you and I’m… I’m…” 

“Santi?” 

He jumps, visibly jumps, his eyes wide like a rabbit startled by headlights. 

You find it quite endearing the way he looks at you, a bright panic. You’d just been grabbing some last minute bits and pieces and your local corner shop for the meal you were making together tonight. 

“Trans!” Santi says a little too loud. 

“What?” 

“Erm…”

“Trains?” 

“No.” 

“What did you say?”

He pauses, biting his bottom lip. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Trans.” He says very softly, closing his eyes for a second. This was not how it was meant to go. “I’m… I wanted to tell you before… I really like you and… you should know… I’m, I’m trans. I’m a trans man.” 

He looks up at you, ready to see disgust. Rejection. 

Instead you smile warmly and nod. “Okay, thank you for telling me.” You point to your front door, “you wanna go inside?” 

He pauses, staring at you for a long moment as his brain tries to and two and two together but keeps getting minus seven. “I… erm… inside?” 

“For the food, the meal date? We were gonna cook together?” You say politely, mistaking his confusion.

“You, you still want to… go out with me?” He doesn’t mean for the words to come out so softly, so small. 

It’s your turn to pause and truly absorb what he said. Your eyes widening as realisation dawns. “Oh, of course! Santi, fuck, sorry,” you put you hand on his arm and squeeze reassuringly. “It’s not a problem for me that you're trans, no problem at all. Doesn’t affect anything. I really like you too.” 

He gives you a brilliant smile, all of his nervous energy outpouring as relief washes over. 

He nods and walks with you as you both move towards the door, taking your shopping bag for you as you fish out your keys. 

“Do you, erm,” he pauses for a second to take off his shoes as you do the same, “do you have any… questions?” 

You turn away just to shut the door before you look back at him. “Questions?” 

“Yeah… about the trans stuff.” He shakes his head, trying to sound more assertive. Fuck, being shot at was always easier than this. “I mean, me being trans.” 

“Do you usually get questions?” 

He nods. 

You pause, thinking it over for a second. “Do you want me to ask questions?” You say sincerely. 

He smiles and rubs the back of his head. “You know, no one's ever asked that before.” 

You smile back.

“Erm, yeah, yeah,” he nods, “questions would be good actually. Normal.” 

You laugh good naturedly, “kay,” you make your way to the kitchen, pointing out the different rooms as you go. 

“Your house is really nice.” 

“Thank you.” 

“And thank you for, well, being so… for being normal about how I blurted it out outside, usually I’m a bit more together.” He says, a touch of bashfulness in his tone. 

“Are people usually not normal? Wait, that’s a numb as fuck question.”

Santi laughs as you pull a face. “A lot of people are very normal about it,” he smiles, “but I don’t tell a lot of people.” 

You nod as you start to unpack your bag, Santi jumps in to help. “So, when did you transition?” 

“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “I know it’s a cliche but I kind of always knew, you know?” 

“Not cliche, just a common experience.” You smile and nudge your shoulder into his. 

He grins. “Started ‘dressing like a boy’ when I was 15, but it wasn’t until I was 18 and out of the house that I changed my name and stuff.” 

You nod. 

“Been on T for a long time now. Managed to get top surgery when I was 24.” He pauses, “sorry, I’m word vomiting all over the place here and-”

“Hey,” you smile warmly, taking his hands, there’s a slight tremor to them. You rub your fingers over his skin reassuringly. “It’s good, great. Not oversharing, thank you for wanting to share with me.” 

He returned the expression a little shyly, “thanks, I just…” He screws up his eyes and sighs, “need to overshare one more thing.” 

“Go ahead.” You give his hands a soft squeeze.

“I’m, I haven’t had bottom surgery.” He swallows, keeping his eyes closed, “I don’t know if that’s a deal breaker for you, I understand if it is.” 

You lean forward and kiss his cheek. “Not a problem.” 

He opens his eyes quickly, looking at you like you painted every pink sunset cloud in the sky, before he presses a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Thank you.” He mutters, stroking your cheek and kissing you again. 

He slowly steps closer, pressing flush against you and snaking his right hand to rest on your hip, giving him all the leverage he needs to gently press you back against the counter top and slip his tongue into your mouth. 

It is a long time before the half unpacked groceries are remembered. 

Thank you for reading!

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[ivystoryweaver]

for tender prompts: dancing to a slow jazz song after a long day of work

JAKE LOCKLEY :3

I Don't Dance

"Miles Davis drifts into the kitchen, the smooth tones soothing you instantly, while making you ache for something romantic of your own."

Thanks for this @runa-falls! Ahhhhh love it! Not me back on my "Jake listens to Miles Davis" tangent again...

for @romanarose's Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024 for June 9th-15th: first time with the same sex, first kiss

1.4k words || Jake Lockley x m!reader* || flirting, roommates to lovers, slightly suggestive, vague mentions of food and drinking, language

*reader inclusivity notes: Reader wears glasses, is taller than Jake

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Life is good…enough.

Work can be a drag, but you look forward to coming home to your roommate Jake. Usually he's worked all night, slept all day, and the two of you meet up around dinner time. You're friendly roommates, always considerately cooking and making enough food for the other, keeping the dishes clean and playing video games together.

You have the most massive crush on the smaller man. He's gorgeous, with smoldering brown eyes and luscious dark curls, with a tinge of early gray...

You've never been with a man before. Just a few failed, awkward romances with women, a few years back.

But recently you've been realizing that you're not single because you're some sort of loser, or something equally upsetting. You're single because women actually just don't interest you, not as much emotionally, and not really at all sexually.

One time you heard Jake in his room with a partner, groaning and grunting in pleasure, his muffled voice telling his lover how to take him.

That was...eye-opening.

Now you think about him all the time, but you don't know how to tell him, and worse, if you even should tell him. He's way too cute for you...right? Cute doesn't begin to cover it - the man oozes confidence...experience...smolder.

He's really nice too.

He was gone for a few days, out of town "for work" (whatever that is). When he got back, he actually gave you a quick hug. "Missed you, man." You forgot to breathe for so long, it came out like a dramatic sigh once you did.

Jake wondered if you were annoyed, but instead, asked you to play video games. The sides of your arms touched the whole time, and you had to put a pillow over your lap because your obvious…attraction.

Jake senses the tension between you and wonders if you're mad that he finished the peanut butter and didn’t buy more.

You clear your throat awkwardly, your gaze flickering away. “No, I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Jake - especially not over peanut butter.”

He hums out an ambiguous response, dragging a hand over the sexy stubble on his chin. "You must've missed me then." His eyebrows shoot up playfully.

God you want him so bad.

As if your greeting hug and video-game-a-thon weren't enough, work the next day couldn't go worse. Sometimes you feel invisible to colleagues and especially to your boss, who seems to have completely ignored your inquiry about an open management position. After a day of being overlooked and passed over, you’re so done.

You finally make it home, drenched from a sudden shower that seemed to wait until you walked out of work to start, and decided to stop as soon as you made it through your front door. Shedding your wet jacket, you stamp your feet on the mat just inside the door, yanking off your fogged up glasses so you can wipe them clean.

Unfortunately, rain does not look good on you the way it does on Jake. If he comes home wet, he's something out of a noir film, removing his cap, pushing those long fingers through his perfectly damp, thick curls - droplets of water making his long lashes shine as they kiss his cheeks. Rivulets of rain snake down the corded thickness of his throat, disappearing into his deliciously drenched white shirt, which hugs the shape of his body temptingly.

Must be nice.

Maybe you can make it to your room before he sees you looking like a wet rat.

You shower and make yourself presentable enough, moving around your home quietly, afraid your pathetic-ness will somehow repel your roommate - secretly crushed that Jake doesn't interact with you for an hour or so. Maybe he doesn't notice how brutal your day was.

A delicious aroma wafts down the hall from the kitchen a while later and you realize Jake is cooking dinner. Deciding you'd rather be in his presence than mope in your room, you venture out to interact. Dinners with Jake are the highlight of your life after all - that is, when you're not sitting with him, touching him, playing games together.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you steady yourself, remembering to take things one day at a time. He might not even be into guys. Or you specifically.

Jake looks up as you enter the kitchen, dark eyes brightening, but somehow immediately softening at your apparent distress. Your shoulders sag in defeat even as you put on a brave face to greet him.

Usually he leaves you alone when you're quiet, assuming you prefer it that way, but after you sat together all last night, he thought maybe...

Setting down a wooden spoon and reducing the heat underneath a sizzling skillet, he turns to you, and your heart races as you realize he's giving you his full attention. It's not helping that he's wearing an apron - that sight alone might kill you.

"You okay?" Dark eyebrows arch curiously as he boldly inches forward.

Blowing out an exhale through your lips, you quickly nod, realizing that simple inquiry means more to you than anything.

Reaching out to grasp your forearm, he peers up at you earnestly. "Hey...talk to me."

You force a smile as your 'brave face' wavers. "Just a shit day. Nothing really."

He pulls a face of his own - a smirk curling the corner of his kissable lips. He's got to stop doing that or you're going to fall head over heels. (Too late).

"Okay, then," he relents, meandering over a few cabinets to where you keep the booze. Jake pours you a drink to settle your nerves, presenting it to you with a comedic flourish, as if you are his liege lord and he's your servant. Eh, probably just a fantasy of yours...

You chuckle, muttering, "thanks," as he brushes past you, disappearing into the living room to turn on the record player. Jake is a mystery, but his collection of albums might be the most sexy thing about him.

Miles Davis drifts into the kitchen, the smooth tones soothing you instantly, while making you ache for something romantic of your own.

You toss your drink back in a couple of long gulps, hoping to gain some proverbial liquid courage as Jake returns to his task, reaching for the wooden spoon to stir.

"Thanks for the drink," you say, bravely moving closer, bumping arms with him. "Need some help?"

Setting the spoon back down, he turns a smoldering gaze your way. "Dance with me."

You almost choke. "Wh-what?"

"You heard me." He roughly whispers. Tugging at the string of his apron, he pulls it loose and sets it on the countertop, leaving him in a tight, white t-shirt and joggers which rest on the swell of his hips. Offering his hand, he repeats, "Dance with me."

Your body responds, seemingly without permission from your brain as you take his waiting hand - the contact zinging up your arm, electrifying you. "I-I don't dance."

He hums out a knowing chuckle, eyes sparkling at the challenge. "Everybody can dance, here." Boldly gripping your hand, he eases your arm around his waist, giving you an out before going too far. "Stop me if I fuck this up." He pulls you closer than you expected, his breath ghosting your cheek.

"Jake..."

"Am I getting this wrong?" He asks you seriously, sounding a bit nervous - his voice pinched even as he possessively cinches you closer. "I...want you and I feel like you want me too, but...fuck, if I'm wrong, please don't kick me out."

You can't believe this is truly happening. How is this man actually real - how is he touching you, saying these things? And moreover, why are you not responding?

Afraid you might cry or something humiliating, a breathless laugh rushes out of you, cutting the tension. "I'm not gonna kick you out."

Soulful jazz crescendos, soothing the surge of worries threatening to ruin this moment, and before you can overthink - as you do - you pull him closer. "Come here..."

Your heart stops when he lays his head on your chest, almost causing you to forget to dance, but you realize, in that moment, that you trust his lead. You believe his words - at least your body does, and you sway to the music, moving in synchrony with this man you adore.

And as you wonder if the stars have aligned and you might really have a chance with him, he tilts his head up and presses his mouth to yours.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake Lockley-Centric stories

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[winniethewife]

Would be caught in the way you got me

(Marc Spector X Bi!F!Reader X Layla El-Faouly)

Week 3: Sex/Kissing

Words: 587

When Marc signed on for this, he admittedly had a specific idea of how it would go in mind. Having the two women that he loves, all over him. However, now that they were together and He was…practically forgotten. Not that he minded. He enjoyed watching the two as they walked through the streets of the city. He loved watching Layla’s hand in hers and the way She kissed her cheek and the way they walked in perfect time together. As they both stopped to look in a shop window at the window display, He pulls out Steven’s phone and takes a picture of the two of them together. A small smile on his face as they turn to see what he was doing.

“Oh No! We’ve been caught being adorable again…” Layla gasped in mock surprise, which caused the other woman to laugh.

“Oh…Oh no…what will we do?” She says in between the boughts of laughter.

“Well, obviously you gotta pay the cute tax.” Marc said with the most stoic face. “A serious cute offence has been taken here.” He smiled slightly unable to keep the façade up.

“Oh, well…How much is the cute tax, Mister Marc sir?” She rocked back on her heels and looked up at him, tilting her head to the side, playing up the innocent look. Marc pretended to think for a minute putting his thumb and fore finger on his chin.

“Hmmm well… One kiss from each of you should cover the cost…” He raised an eye brow and nodded his head, like he was considering the most important financial laws and figuring out complex equations in his head. Layla laughed, and gave her a mischievous look. She walked up to Marc and grabbed him by the face, her hands on either side of his face before pressing a kiss to his lips. Marc wasn’t expecting this kind of a kiss, this was an intense, passionate kiss, it took him just a second too long to figure it out and Layla was already pulling away. He looked confused and bewildered but before he could even ask he was being kisses again, this was a less familiar kiss, sweeter, different, but good. he didn’t hesitate this time his hand on her lower back, his other on the back of her neck, pressing his lips back with a grunt. After a moment he released her, Layla looked impressed, she looked shocked, He felt amazing.

“wait a minute, I want a kiss like that!” Layla laughed before grabbing her around the waist spinning her towards her, lowering her in a dip before pressing a kiss to her lips. The action took her breath away. She felt like she was being spectacularly wooed. Her heart racing in her chest as she was moved back to a standing location and having Layla pull away.

“Woah.” She said, she felt like her brain was catching up with her body. But before she could she heard Marc speaking.

“Steven says he can do better.” Marc said with a soft laugh while glancing at his reflection. She shook her head.

“Lemme breathe for a minute first, I’m having a bisexual panic.” She said with a laugh.

“Oh I donno, I feel like we should let Steven try” Layla said in a sing song voice. She turns to look at her two lovers.

“What is this a kissing competition?” She asked bewildered.

“Sure why not.” Marc shrugged. “Although… I think we can have a much more interesting competition at the apartment…”

~

Masterlist

Taglist: @romanarose @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

[avastrasposts]

Not An Easy Man To Find

Hello!

🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈This my contribution to @romanarose Pride Event 🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

It's the result of one of those "what if?" conversations that sometimes happen. I've never written m/m and I was curious to see if I could come up with a language to get across feelings and emotions between two characters that I love very much and still remain true to them. What would they express if they find themselves in a situation where they no longer need to deny the tension and attraction between them?

A/N - set after the events of Triple Frontier, mild spice, nothing too explicit.

The house was small, more of a cabin really, and set back from the small country road, right at the end of a narrow lane. The thick forest around the building had been cleared and the approach to the house was exposed. The second the man set foot on the property, flood lights lit up the yard. Even in the heavy rain he could see the cameras mounted on the porch, one aimed at the drive, the other at the front door. 

Frankie saw the lights go on in his yard, and he immediately reached for the gun on the coffee table but he remained on the couch, the book he was reading now face down beside him. Most likely it was just an animal crossing the yard, alarms wouldn't go off until someone tried to force entry. He waited for the lights to go off again, the knock on the door almost made him jump. Quietly he got up from the couch, moved through the house to the hallway and tapped the screen mounted on the wall. The man on the other side of the door was soaked through by the rain underneath his cap and he gave the camera a nod as if he knew Frankie was watching him. 

He should know Frankie was watching him. After all, he taught him how to set up the system. 

Pope heard the door unlock and couldn’t repress the smile creeping up as it swung open. 

“You’re not an easy man to find, Fish.” 

“Pendejo, where the fuck have you been?!” 

Frankie tossed Pope a towel after he peeled off his wet jacket, leaving it dripping onto the floor of the small hallway. The door was closed again, locked and bolted, and Pope nodded approvingly at the security system his friend had set up.  

“How did you find me?” Frankie asked as Pope toweled his wet hair, following him into the kitchen, “I’ve been staying off the radar as much as possible, Will told me a couple of guys came after you?” 

“Yeah, some of Lorea’s men. I got rid of them and I had to move location again. But Will had a hunch about where you might be so I checked it out and one thing led to another.” 

He hung the towel over a chair and sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen island as Frankie leaned against the counter. 

“Do I need to worry that someone else might find me that way?” he asked, raising his eyebrows but Pope shook his head.

“No, you’re good, Fish, I found you because I know you. How have you been?” 

“Shit.” 

Frankie spat the word, his eyebrows pulling together as he rubbed a large hand over his face. 

“Like absolute shit. I’m not sleeping, Tom’s death…it’s still….”

“Yeah, I know,” Pope said, “the nightmares have been brutal.”

“I keep reliving that fucking moment up on those rocks, when Tom…”

Frankie trailed off and Pope nodded. 

“Yeah, Tom, the heli crashing, Will getting shot, that fucking donkey…I have nightmares about that fucking donkey, you go over with it too, Fish, I keep dreaming the same sequence, seeing you tumble over the side, pulled down by it.” 

Pope glanced over at Frankie who was shaking his head with his eyes closed as if he was trying to shut something out.

“Don’t….” Frankie muttered, meeting Pope’s dark gaze. 

The two men fell silent for a few moments, eyes locked on each other,  the rain hammering against the shutters and a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Something made the lights flicker and Pope broke the stalemate, glancing up at the ceiling. 

“I’ve got a backup generator,” Frankie said, “and extra fuel. The power goes out pretty often when trees fall on the power lines.”

Pope nodded, “Always prepared, Fish.”

Frankie shrugged in response, seemingly waiting for the other man to say something else. Pope could feel the tension building in the small kitchen and he couldn’t face it, even if he was the only one who felt it. 

“You got a beer?” He motioned to the fridge but Frankie shook his head. 

“No, I’ve been staying sober, on all accounts, since we got back. I…I lost custody of the kids, after the divorce.” 

“I heard, man, I’m sorry. That’s fucked up,” Pope shook his head as Frankie shrugged again. 

“Shit was bad when I got home, she’d changed the locks, tossed my things, got the divorce papers ready. And I went on a bender, totalled the truck and then the court awarded her full custody,” Frankie shook his head, glancing down at his feet, “Can’t blame ‘em, and it was probably for the best. Some people were sniffing around the house a few months later but I’d already moved away. At least this way she and the kids aren’t in any danger.”

Frankie looked up at Pope, still damp, his shirt clinging to his shoulders as he leaned on his forearms on the wood countertop. His friend’s dark eyes looked apologetic as he listened to Frankie.

“Could’ve used your help, Pope.”  

“Fuck, Frankie, I’m sorry. I only just heard from Will that you got divorced, if I’d known I would’ve helped out, you know.”

“Yeah, well…” Frankie said, “It was my mess, I guess I had to deal with it.” 

“Yeah, but Fish, you’re family. Will and Benny have each other, Tom always had Molly and the girls, and then it’s you and me,” Pope said, getting off the stool and coming around to lean against the opposite counter, giving Frankie’s shoulder a clap. Frankie gave him a dismissive snort. 

“We’re family but you’ve stayed away for two years? Living off what’s her name's money? Not even a word to confirm that you were still alive?” 

“That…that didn’t work out,” Pope said, hesitating a little, “Turned out she wasn’t that interested when I’d already gotten her and her brother out of the country. And I always…” Pope trailed off and shrugged. He seemed to consider his next words, meeting Frankie’s questioning look for a few heartbeats before he continued, “Yeah…it didn’t work out. I came back to the States about eighteen months ago.”

Frankie’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at Pope’s answer. 

“Eighteen months ago? And you only just now got in touch? What the fuck, Pope?” 

“Like I said, you’re not an easy man to find, Fish.” 

“Bullshit, Will always knew how to find me, I made sure, you just didn’t bother.” 

Frankie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Pope who just shook his head, but still met his gaze. 

“I thought you were still married, Frankie, you had your own family. I didn’t wanna crash that.” 

“Still, could’ve used your help, even if I wasn’t divorced. If you really mean we’re family and-” 

“It was too hard, Frankie, you know that,” Pope interrupted, pushing himself off the counter and taking a step towards Frankie who stared back at him. Pope shoved a frustrated hand through his hair, “Seeing you with her, the kids, happy family life. You must’ve known how I felt, seeing you run back to her the second we were done in Columbia.” 

“Pope…” Frankie said in a low voice, his eyes dropping to his boots as his fingers twitched, he looked ready to crawl out of his skin. 

But Pope ignored him, tension dripping off him as he paced the small kitchen, “You know, right, Fish? This has always been here, this,” He pointed between the two of them, almost poking Frankie’s chest as he stopped by the counter again. “This…this friction, you and me, and now…you always just stand there and say nothing.” Pope shoved his hand through his hair again and slumped back against the counter, “Frankie, half the time I don’t know if I want to hit your or fuck you.”

Frankie suddenly exploded into action, two long strides and his fists grabbed Pope’s shirts, slamming their bodies together as his mouth found Pope’s. Pope grunted in surprise and took hold of Frankie’s sides as he stumbled back with the force of the other man’s kiss. Teeth and lips clashed as Frankie pulled Pope closer, tongues meeting and Frankie groaned, tasting rainwater on Pope’s lips. Pope wound his arms around Frankie’s waist and up his back, grabbing the shirt and pushing the other man into him as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Panted breathes filled the silent kitchen, a low moan from Pope as Frankie wrapped his hand around the back of his head. 

“I fucking missed you,” Pope mumbled, still pressed against the other man’s lips, and Frankie’s soft tongue came out to taste Pope again. A mouthed fuck and Pope’s hand slid down and grabbed Frankie’s hip, his touch going soft as he let himself feel the outlines of his body properly for the first time. 

“How long?” Frankie asked, his voice low as he pulled back a little, meeting Pope’s eyes. 

“Since basic, I guess. But I denied it for years.” 

“Yeah,” Frankie breathed out, barely a whisper, his eyes on Pope’s mouth. Pope tightened his grip on Frankie’s hip again and pulled his friend close, the kiss softer, less rushed. Frankie’s body was tense under his grip, uncertain as he shifted his weight and opened his mouth to Pope’s tongue. Pope moved slowly, feeling his way around Frankie’s stiff muscles, caressing his back, leading the kisses as the other man slowly began to relax. 

When Frankie groaned into his mouth and pushed forward, almost bending Pope backwards over the counter, Pope took hold of Frankie’s hips again and pulled him along. Leading him backwards into the living room. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sank down and Frankie toppled over, on top, his long body covering Pope’s, legs tangled together. 

A moan escaped Frankie when he felt the hard length of the other man against his thigh and he rolled his hips, seeking friction for himself, his body reacting faster than his mind, the primal urge to rut into the warm body underneath him almost taking over. Pope’s mouth was warm, heavy breaths panted into his own, as he squeezed his eyes shut. Pope’s hands were caressing his back, trailing down over his ass, grabbing and pressing them together, calloused fingers sliding inside his jeans and Frankie froze, pulling back an inch, panic flaring up in his throat. 

Pope’s dark eyes met his as Frankie pushed himself up, hovering over Pope on his forearms, not meeting his friend's look.  

“Have you done this before, Frankie?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless from the kisses, but calm, and Frankie wanted just to bury his face against Pope’s warm, flustered, neck, hide his face and not show the intensity he felt was written across it.

“Just a hookup, when I was drunk,” he mumbled in response, his hands suddenly felt too big, he didn’t know where to put them when all that was under him was Santiago. He shifted uneasily.  

“Cálmate, Francisco,” Pope mumbled, cupping his hand around Frankie’s head, his fingers finding damp, soft curls, “Relax.” 

Frankie nodded and dropped his head to Pope’s chest, exhaling deeply. The steady heartbeat under the shirt told him his friend was still calm, hadn’t lost his cool, wasn’t rushing into anything. Warm hands resumed their movements up and down his back but now they were slow, and didn’t touch his skin. He felt his nerves calm, this was just Santiago, Pope, his oldest friend, who knew the darkest things he’d done because he was right next to him when it all went down. If anyone would understand, could reach inside and soothe the panic in his chest, it was this man. 

He lifted his head from Pope’s chest and cupped his cheek, a slow, uncertain movement, running his thumb across the thick beard, shot through with more gray now than last time. The sensation was unfamiliar to his fingers, not used to touching him in this way, the texture of the beard different from his own scruffy patches. Pope parted his lips as Frankie’s thumb traced across them, pausing briefly to press into the bottom lip. Frankie watched as the soft skin gave in under his thumb, making Pope part his lips more. When he leaned forward and gave an experimental lick to the pink bottom lip, Pope hummed under him, his hands stilling on Frankie’s back. He let Frankie lead the way, taking it at his pace, meeting his tongue as Frankie opened his mouth and licked into Pope’s. 

This time it was Frankie who reached for Pope’s skin, sliding a hand in under his shirt, not even thinking about what he was doing, just needing to feel more. Pope shifted under him, letting the buttons come undone and the shirt slid open. The palms that skated across his skin were calloused and familiar, but never in this way, never with this soft touch, followed by a hot mouth and tongue lapping at his skin. 

He could help himself, “Frankie,” he moaned, the roll of Frankie’s hips grinding against his own hard length clouding his mind, “Frankie, are you sure?” 

A muffled Yes and a nod came from Frankie, his tongue exploring Pope’s skin with increasing fervor. When his hand cupped the hard length straining against the fabric of his jeans, Pope’s breath hitched and he groaned loudly. It egged Frankie on, suddenly he felt a desperate need rise inside him and he grabbed Pope’s hand, dragging him off the couch. 

“Bedroom,” he muttered, tugging the other man with him, the two of them stumbling the short distance to the small bedroom at the back of the cabin. 

Pope grabbed Frankie’s shirt and pulled it off, shrugging his own shirt on to the floor, and then Frankie’s hands were skimming up and down his sides as they climbed onto the bed, buttons being undone, jeans discarded. It wasn’t the first time they’d been naked in front of each other, far from it, but the new situation gave them cause to look at the other man in another way. Pope took in the trail of dark hair on Frankie’s soft belly, leading down to his achingly hard cock. Frankie couldn’t just look, his hand came out and closed around Pope’s stiff length, making him huff a strangled Frankie before he pulled him down over him. 

After, when their bodies were slick with sweat and the room reeked of cum, Pope cupped his hands around Frankie’s scruffy cheeks and kissed him firmly, holding the other man tight as their heart beats slowed down. 

“I should’ve come back much sooner, Francisco,” he mumbled, when he finally broke the kiss. 

“Should’ve done this much sooner,” Frankie muttered in reply, his hands wrapped around Pope’s shoulders, sharing his breath and still tasting the salty tang of his own spend on Pope’s lips. 

Pope nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back on the pillow with his fingers tangled in Frankie’s soft curls. He'd never known Frankie's hair was so soft, but he’d often thought about curling his fingers around the tufts that always stuck out from underneath that damn cap. Now he slowly ran his fingers through them, still damp from their exertion.

Frankie shifted his weight, resting his head against Pope’s shoulder, his leg hooked over the other man’s thigh. When the air in the room cooled, he reached over and tugged the comforter over both of them, rousing Pope from his light sleep. He shifted down, pulling Frankie into arms so that he could look him in the eyes. 

“What now, Francisco?” he asked, his voice already thick with sleep, and Frankie kissed him. The soft lips and rough voice now his to claim. 

“Nothing, just this, Santiago,” Frankie replied, “We sleep, we wake up, and then just this.” 

Tagging the lovely people who were excited to read this when I blabbed about writing it. @legendary-pink-dot @lady-bess @nerdieforpedro @i-own-loki @mysterious-moonstruck-musings and last but not least @for-a-longlongtime for beta reading and being incredibly supportive! Love you all!

[qveerthe0ry]

Conquer the Heart

Summary: Joel comes out - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 1: Coming Out Word Count: 3,981 Pairing: Joel Miller x M! Reader Rating: Mature (but my blog is 18+ mdni) Warnings: vague descriptions of sex, fluff, kissing, conversations about sexuality, really that's it this is pretty much just sweet and fluffy with a tiny hint of spice Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar who could have guessed? Love y'all <3 A/N: I just wanted to make Joel queer idk. Title from an Orville Peck song because of course

You don’t know what possessed you to pay the $5 cover to check that place out. The Round-Up Saloon, perched on a street corner in downtown Austin. The outside was unassuming enough, but the neon lights and mechanical bull and rotating dance floor inside made it look like something straight out of Urban Cowboy. 

There were all kinds of crowds. College kids and business casuals and actual cowboys. And it’s Austin, so all the sexualities were represented in one way or another as you took note of the couples at tables and on the dance floor. You couldn’t really care about any of them, though, as soon as you laid eyes on him. 

You were drawn to him and his broad shoulders and tight Wrangler blue jeans. 

He was with a big group of women and men, all drinking and laughing and taking turns line-dancing with each other on the dance floor. 

And to think you only stumbled into the honky tonk cowboy bar out of curiosity… It certainly wasn’t your scene. 

But you’d watched Joel dance with a few women with respectful hand placement, and then he danced with a man, and hope had bubbled up inside of you to the sound of Alan Jackson. 

He was a little sweaty when you worked up the courage to talk to him, and his cologne masked all the alcohol and cigarettes in the air.

You plastered on a flirty smile and asked him if he could teach you some of his moves. When he looked taken aback and flustered, you backtracked. 

“I’m sorry, I saw you dancing with that guy— I didn’t mean to assume.” 

“Tommy? That’s my brother,” he’d explained, a little flushed in the face. 

“Oh! Shit, sorry, ignore me.”

But he’d caught your arm as you turned to hibernate for approximately 5-10 business days. 

“I don’t see no harm in teachin’ you.”

And so he did. And it was fun, and his hands on you were so warm you swear they branded his mark all over your skin. 

A few songs, all background noise to the ‘he’s just straight, don’t do this’ mantra in your head, and he was leading you off the dance floor for another beer. 

A friendly beer. Surely that’s all it was. 

But he was so friendly. He gave you pointers on how to dance, and then asked if you’re from around here, and then he was waving off his group of friends when they all announced their departure. 

He asked you about your job, and you asked about his, and then the way his hands felt rough on the skin of your arm made more sense. 

Maybe you were crazy, or the two beers you had were really getting to your head, but there was something so unspeakably electric between you. You felt it when he’d lean in closer to hear you, the way he touched your arm with the back of his bottle-filled fist, the way his hoppy breath ghosted across your cheek to reach your ear.

And then he said he should probably get home, and asked if he should walk you to your car, and maybe he wasn’t straight, you thought, as he briefly placed his hand on your back to guide you through the packed bar. 

And you really, really shouldn’t have. But you asked for his number, and he put it in your shitty flip phone, and then you kissed him. 

Right on the mouth. A quick peck that was so short you could’ve nearly pretended it was an accident. 

He looked so stunned, and guilt boiled up in your stomach. 

But he’d grabbed your wrist gently, and looked you in the eyes. 

“I’m uh… I don’t… I haven’t ever done that.” 

“That was your first kiss?” 

It was a joke, and thank god he laughed. His smile looked so fucking good under the shitty, flickering street lamps. 

“Call me, okay?” 

And then he was gone. You thought about him the whole drive home, while you got undressed and ready for bed, as you fell asleep. You felt his touch in your dreams, and when you woke in the morning you could hardly believe he was real. 

But his phone number was burning a hole in your cell phone. You stared at it on and off all Saturday long. What would you even say? Why did he even want you to call him, if he’d never even kissed a guy before? Did he just want a new drinking buddy? 

The dread built up all day long, until it was late, and a sense of now or never goaded you into calling his number. 

He answered, and you told him who you were, and he’d sounded so surprised to hear from you. He didn’t think you’d want to see him again, after he embarrassed himself, and his admission made you balk. 

You told him you were the one who felt embarrassed. He laughed at that. Said he’s a lot smoother with ladies, but you made him feel nervous. He said he wanted to meet up again. 

And so you did. 

Just a shitty diner for an early dinner on Sunday, unassuming enough. The chemistry you felt at the bar hadn’t faded. If anything, it was so much more apparent now. The way he blushed when you flirted seemed less like the bad kind of gay panic. His foot kept nudging yours under the table. 

He walked you to your car again, and then he kissed you, much less chaste than the night at the bar, with one big, rough hand on your neck and the other on your hip. 

“That was pretty good for only your second kiss,” you’d said. 

He shrugged, a sheepish smile gracing his heated face.

“Should stick around and find out about the third.” 

And if you hadn’t already been wrapped around his finger, he certainly secured the spot for you then.

He wasn’t new to dating, but he was new to this, and it showed. He got pretty easily flustered around you. On your second date, he brought up his daughter for the first time like he’d forgotten he hadn’t mentioned her before. A casual thing, talking about her getting ready to graduate high school. 

“Does Sarah know… who you’re on a date with?”

Joel shook his head. 

“Not yet. No one does… Not even sure how to explain it to myself, if I’m honest.”

You were patient with him. It’s gotta be culture shock, living nearly 40 years of your life completely straight and having some random guy at a bar change that for you overnight. 

You took things slow. You talked a lot over the phone, after Sarah went to sleep. He told you about his dating history, Sarah’s mom and only a few unserious flings after. You tried not to psychoanalyze him, but it makes a little bit of sense. Getting some girl pregnant at 19, marrying her, getting ditched with a toddler and a curt ‘good luck’ and then raising her on your own? 

No wonder he never questioned his sexuality. There was genuinely no time to. 

At first, you thought you may just be a stepping stone. A news flash for him, an experiment, something fun for a season. It didn’t bother you. It’s happened before. But as your nightly talks got longer, and as you took each other out more and more often, it became clear that it wasn’t like that. 

You watched with fascination and adoration as Joel figured things out. It was so endearing when he asked if he should hold the door open for you, or if you should take turns. Likewise, when he held your hand in public for the first time, the way he asked your permission made your heart grow way too big for your rib cage.

Things weren’t perfect, of course, but nothing ever is. You didn’t get to see him as much as you ideally would. You were both busy during the work week, and he often had father duties on the weekends. Most of your dates were quick dinner bites when Sarah had a school thing, or an odd Saturday here or there when Sarah had a sleepover. 

But that was quite enough for you. You weren’t even looking for something when you’d met him. You didn’t feel the need to move quickly when you hadn’t planned on going anywhere in the first place. 

And he was sweet, and quite self-aware. 

“Wish we could spend more time together,” he’d tell you over the phone, “I know this ain’t the way things normally go.” 

But you liked him. So much. So it didn’t bother you.

And, as the weeks passed by, he opened up more. He started asking you more pointed questions, like how you came out to those closest to, and what it was like. He asked if you were seeing other people— it’s okay if you are, was just wonderin’— and then he asked you if you wanted to be together when you made it clear you weren’t. 

“Like… as boyfriend and boyfriend?” 

He chuckled, the deep gravel a familiar tone swimming through your landline with a nervous twinge to it. 

“Yeah, as boyfriend and boyfriend.” 

And he treated you right, and you got along with him so well, and he was so put together and responsible and respectful. 

“I’d really like to be your boyfriend.” 

And his breath had hitched so loud it was caught by the receiver, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he told you that he’d really like that, too. 

A few days after that, he told you Sarah would be gone all weekend, on a team trip for some hiking and kayaking and bonding. 

“Could I stay at yours? I hate to invite myself, it’s just— Tommy’s got no boundaries. Wouldn’t want him bargin’ in, y’know, before I get to tell him.” 

You didn’t mind one bit, aside from the mountain of laundry you had to fold in preparation for his arrival. 

It was the first time you’d been truly alone with him. Your dates were always public, at least somewhat. And he’d kissed you, a ton, but that’s as far as it had ever gone. 

You definitely wanted him. You’d wanted him since the very second you laid eyes on him at that cheesy honky tonk bar. But it was funny how nervous you were, even though your experience with men put Joel’s to shame. 

It was a lot like high school, in the way you danced around each other at first. A movie on your couch, with his arm draped along the back of it. Readjusting to ‘get comfy,’ inching, until the warmth of his body was pressed against yours and his arm dropped from the back of the couch to your shoulders. 

His heartbeat was deafening, hard and fast, when you’d tucked your head against his chest. You moved your hand to his knee in the world’s most intense match of The Nervous Game and feared for his cardiovascular health. 

He said your name, and like it was the magic word, every single facade crumbled around you in an instant. 

His kisses made your head spin, and the way his thick thighs felt under your own was addictive, and it was over before either of you realized it had started. Two sets of soiled pants and underwear thrown into your washing machine, along with the last of the pretenses. And then you’d dragged him to your bed. 

The sex wasn’t even your favorite part. The best was the morning after, and how you were plastered to his back as you woke up slow and easy. The way he held your arm to his stomach, even in his sleep. And the way you only got out of bed for food or bathroom breaks, a whole day with him, alone, uninterrupted. 

Just as you started to worry that this was a one-time thing, at least for a while, Joel huffed beside you and nuzzled his head into your shoulder. 

“I wanna come out. At least to Tommy ‘n Sarah. S’not right, keeping you a secret like this when you’ve been makin’ me so happy. I know you’d make them happy too.” 

You stroked his hair, and asked if he was sure, and though his pretty brown eyes looked wide and scared, his jaw was set with a determined nod. 

So you devised a plan. Or— Joel devised it, and asked for your input, and it all made you a bit giddy. 

He had you over for dinner. Just as a friend, at first. He’d ordered pizza and stocked beer and told Tommy and Sarah he was having a friend over. 

You wondered if Tommy would recognize you from the bar, but if he did, he didn’t show it. He just talked your ear off about Texas sports and old cars.

Sarah was… well, you understood why Joel could never seem to smile wide enough when he talked about her. She was so smart, and kind-hearted, and funny. You had a hard time keeping up, but the way Joel and Tommy were around her, you think she probably has that effect on most people. 

It was a nice night, fun and easy conversation, good pizza, and a very competitive game of Boggle in which Sarah dominated. 

And it was only a little bit difficult to spend the evening as just Joel’s friend, solely because of how easily you fit into his life. You wanted to scream it from the rooftops, that Joel wanted you to be a piece in his puzzle. 

Sarah, so politely, excused herself to go to bed as it got later. The three of you left shuffled around, gathering game pieces and paper plates and empty cans, until you all eventually met back in the kitchen. Joel gave you a look, and you gave him a comforting smile right back, and it was like the room’s air was replaced with water as he spoke up.

“Tommy?”

“Mmhmm?” 

The younger brother whipped around to face you both, sliding the leftovers into the fridge with a slice in his mouth. 

“I uh… I wanted to let you know that I’m— that we’re, uh… Together?”

You watched as his dark eyes glazed over for a second, brow scrunched up in confusion. And then his gaze flickered from you to him, and back to you, and his eyes grew as big as saucers. 

“No kiddin’?”

Joel laughed. 

“Serious. He’s my… He’s my boyfriend.” 

Tommy swallowed his mouthful of pizza, wiped his mustache, and smiled. A genuine smile, sweet and warm, reaching his eyes. 

“Hermano, good for you. That’s— I’m happy for you.” 

He opened his arms and tugged Joel into a hug, and Joel grumbled something about Tommy getting pizza grease on his clothes, but he was smiling wide and relieved over Tommy’s shoulder. 

But then Joel’s face got serious again as Tommy pulled away with a manly slap to his shoulder. 

“Sarah doesn’t know yet. I wanted to make sure everyone got along first, y’know?” 

And then Tommy was looking at you and rolling his eyes and chuckling. 

“Think we all get along just fine. You should tell her soon.”

And Joel knew Tommy was right, but it didn’t stop him from looking so anxious when Tommy left with another round of goodbye hugs. 

“What are you most worried about?” 

You asked him because you knew there were many things to fret over, in his situation. 

“Just that… She’s had this idea of me this whole time, y’know? What if she sees me different, and then things change between us?” 

And god, that made your throat feel thick, and Joel’s eyes got a little misty, so you pulled him tight against you and let him sag into your hold.

“I know the feeling,” you told him, “but I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“No?”

You huffed a laugh and tangled your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck. 

“You mean everything to her. I can tell just by how she looks at you. Never seen a teenager like their dad that much.” 

And he laughed too, a little wet against your shoulder. 

“Will you be there with me when I tell her? I don’t— I don’t think I can do it alone.”

Your lips found his bristly cheek and planted a kiss there, and you mumbled of course into the salty skin.

So you went home, with plans to come back the next day. This wasn’t easy for you, either, dating a guy with a kid for the first time. You knew she liked you, at least, but that was a face value assessment. Would she mind you taking up more of her dad’s time? Would she mind you in their space every so often? Would she mind if you came around to her soccer games or science fairs or graduation, as her dad’s boyfriend, in front of all the other kids with nuclear families? Would she resent you for shaking up what they had?

You didn’t get much sleep, thinking about it. You wondered if you should bring her some kind of gift, flowers or a trinket or something, but then you’d be trying too hard, right? 

As you got ready the next morning, you thought about all the ways it could go wrong, but none of them really seemed realistic. Sarah was sweet, and intelligent, and surely if she did have reservations, they’d be able to talk them through civilly. 

Right?

You couldn’t even listen to music on your way to their house. It was a silent fifteen minute drive with your nerves boiling over and spilling out, thinking of how awkward things could get. 

But all of that kind of fell to the wayside when Sarah answered the door and said “I haven’t seen you in forever” with a cheeky grin and those bright eyes she definitely got from Joel. 

It felt cozy when you sat down at their kitchen table while they sipped their coffee and orange juice and Sarah told you both all about the English project she was working on. It put you at ease to ask her questions about things you have in common, and for all of you to mesh so well into a normal conversation.

But as it lulled, you noticed Joel getting restless, and you noticed Sarah noticing his uneasiness. 

“Dad, you’re acting weird in front of our company.” 

And while she was alway kind and respectful, she was still a teenager with a dorky dad. 

“Well… I wanted to talk to you about somethin’.”

She looked at him with her head tilted and her eyebrow raised. 

“Now?”

She nodded her head toward you as she asked, and you couldn’t blame her for being confused as to why he had to have a heart-to-heart with his ‘friend’ visiting. 

“Yeah um… You know how you’re always tellin’ me I should get a life and start datin’?”

Sarah laughed and looked at you.

“Yeah, could you be his wingman? It’s getting sad.” 

And you laughed, and Joel laughed, but it was a little forced, and Sarah’s smart, so you could read the confusion on her face. 

“What’s this about, dad?”

Joel took a big, deep breath and took Sarah’s hand on the table. You watched her squeeze his fingers as her face twisted up in worry. 

“He’s my— we’re dating. He’s my… boyfriend.” 

The worry dissipated, and her eyes got wide and her lips pursed before her jaw slowly dropped with surprise. 

“You guys are together?” 

She looked over to you, then, and all you could do was give her a soft smile and nod. 

“I know you might have some questions—”

“How long? When did you guys meet?” 

She looked back to Joel to answer, but you could see he was still reeling, with sweat saturating the curls at his temples. 

“Just a couple months ago, he taught me how to dance to the Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”

She made a noise, like a scoff, and it made you wince.

“Months!? Dad, why didn’t you tell me?” 

You watched Joel’s eyes cloud with— fear? You’d never seen him look so scared. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I just— I guess I didn’t know how. At first.” 

His voice trembled, and you watched Sarah’s lip quiver before she shot out of her chair and lunged toward her dad, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“I love you,” she’d mumbled, like she knew it was what he needed to hear, because his shoulders slumped and his arms wrapped around her back. 

You thought maybe you should look away. It felt real personal. But Joel had asked you to be here, and it was about you, too, as much as that fact made you want to burrow underground. 

“You could have told me sooner. I love boy talk.”

Her voice was muffled and heavy with tears, but Joel chuckled all the same through his own misty gaze. 

“I didn’t know you liked boys.” 

She pulled away but didn’t go far, letting her hands squeeze his biceps as she looked to him for an answer. 

“Me neither,” he shrugged, “I like this boy, though. A lot.” 

And he got this goofy smile on his face, even though it was a little wet, and he looked at you, and you felt so awkward but so head over heels. 

“Okay, well, you still should have told me. I would’ve been on the porch cleaning Uncle Tommy’s shotgun when he pulled up.” 

Joel groaned and covered his face but you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of you. 

“What are your intentions with my father?”

And though her tone was joking, her eyes grew soft as she waited for an answer. 

“I guess I just wanna make him happy. Because he makes me happy. If that’s alright with you?” 

She sat back down and rested her chin in her hand, with her lips pursed again as she thought. 

“Sarah, you can have time to think—”

“Deal.” 

She extended her hand out to you from across the table, and you took it eagerly to shake on it. But after an appropriate amount of handshake time, she didn’t let your hand go. 

“You have to come over for movie nights now.” 

“I can do that.”

“And I have to make sure your taste in movies doesn’t suck before I let you pick one.”

“That’s fair.”

“ALSO—“

“Sarah,” Joel interrupted, “this isn’t how deals work. You can’t add stuff while he’s still shaking your hand.” 

“As I was saying,” Sarah rolled her eyes, squeezing your hand tighter, “you have to treat him right. He acts all tough but he’s just a softy.”

“Oh Christ,” Joel huffed. 

“No, she has a point,” you told him with a smirk, “I promise I will, Sarah.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, but then she grinned, and finally let go of your hand. 

So yeah, you really really like Joel Miller. You’re never happier than you are when you spend the evening at his house, snuggled up on one side of him while Sarah’s snuggled up to the other, watching some movie Sarah’s usually the one to pick. 

Or when you meet him and Tommy at Sarah’s soccer game, and he greets you with a smile and lifts the bill of your Miller Contracting hat you’ve stolen to peck your lips. 

Or when you’re in your own kitchen, making his coffee, and you feel sleepy arms wrap around your waist and a sleep warm kiss at the nape of your neck. 

Really, as long as you’re with Joel, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. And if those three little words slip out one day soon, well, there isn’t a single thing that makes you think Joel would be surprised by them.

[romanarose]

Banner by @winniethewife

Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024

Hello friends!

Let's try this again and I'll try to be more clear to not invoke discourse. That being said, it is *my* event and if you'd like to run one a certain way, go nuts. However, this is how I'm doing it.

I had a lot of fun doing Dead Dove December and the Triple Frontier Anniversary Event so I decided I wanted to do an event for pride this year! I know it seems far away right now, especially given how many of us in north America are still cold af, but I wanna give everyone time!

Each week of pride will have a theme to write or draw for (you don't have to do all of them! Think of it like kinktober.) at the end, I will put out a masterlist (or multiple depending how many)so we can all share each other's work.

Why?

Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal are both allies to LGBT people, Pedro having played multiple queer rolls and having likened his sexuality to that of Prince Oberyn. Despite none of the characters being canon queer, Triple Frontier specifically lends itself to queer stories. Recently, theres been a rise in stories of Oscar characters in relationships or Pedro characters in relationships which I love.

What I'd really like to do is encourage people to think past x fem!reader or canon presentation of characters. I want to encourage gay, lesbian, bisexual relationships, trans readers, trans interpretations of characters etc. More content guidelines will be in the what section.

Where?

Primarily tumblr.com, our very own shithole hellsight. However, especially given tumblr's censorship vs. twitter, I am encouraging posting on twitter or wherever you'd like. If you post something elsewhere, send me a link or send me a post you made about it on tumblr and I'll promote the link.

Additionally if you only write on ao3, I'd love for you to participate too! Once again, just send the link!

When?

in order to do the week by week themes and hold all of June, there will be 6 weeks from May 26th-July 6th

Each week will have themes. I won't be policing the weeks and these so if you do the 1st week on july 3rd, that's fine. The themes are keeping in mind both artists and writers. I only got one artist for DDD, a great piece and I've love to see more! Ideas are just for spit balling, do your own take!

May 26th-June 1st: Coming out. Ideas: Coming out to family, lover, friend. Finding gender affirming clothes/hair, first pride

June 2nd-8th: Transitioning Ideas: Surgary, surgery scars, starting T or E, binding (safely!!!)

June 9th-15th: Sex/kissing First time together, first time with certain biology or the same sex, sweet kisses, smut showing scars,

June 16th-22nd: Food, fashion, fun

All things queer culture and culture of different religions, racial or country backgrounds, queer fashion, gender affirming clothes, Keshet (קשת), listening to Lady Gaga or Bruce Springsteen, watching a queer movie

June 23rd-29th: Struggles Rejection, reconciling faith and identity, missing family that rejected one, comfort, candlelight vigil, day of remembrance.

June 30th- July 6th:Strength Asserting ones or a partner/friend/family's pronouns, standing up against hate, being loudly and proudly yourself, pride events

Who?

Writers and artists in any form are welcome. I also want to encourage working with each other, writers and artists together!

For characters: Any Oscar Isaac or Pedro Pascal character has to at least be in the relationship. Other characters in universes can be done, such as FishBen.

Reader can be anyone, just properly tag! If you want to come out to Marc Spector as bisexual, do it!!! If you want Joel to take care of you after top surgery, do it!

YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE QUEER TO PARTICIPATE!

However! Please do your research if writing or drawing an identity not yours. There are trans, nonbinary, gay, lebian etc bloggers all over tumblr who write about their experience, please divert to first person testimonies rather than assumptions.

What?

A few rules

MUST contain more than male character x fem!reader. Male character x fem!reader x male character does not count unless the two male characters are romantically or sexually involved or one or the reader is trans. Any Q's, dm me!

This is not a dark event. I'm not going to be policing the content matter but I really want to primarily focus on the pride. However, as a bisexual, gender non-conforming person I know a lot of pain can still be involved. What we are not doing is suicide, death, self-harm, or non consensual activity. If you have questions or would like to make a case for something, just dm me!

This is not inherently NSFW, but there is absolutely NSFW allowed. Always tag everything properly.

The usual no's like bestiality, incest, underage nsfw etc

As far as minor characters, SFW MINOR CHARACTERS IS ALLOWED. You can write or draw lgbt themes because being LGBT is not inherently sexual. For example, teenage Santi coming out as trans to Frankie or your own version of Ellie and Joel's talk about Ellie and Dina kiss. That being said, I'd prefer to reserve this to teens. Again, any questions or ideas that don' quite fit into parameters, just ask!

As always, I am allowed to use my discretion. If I do not want to include something, I won't. However, I know that there are rifts in the fandom. I won't be excluding you out of personal bias. As long as I don't have you blocked and you haven't plagerized or done something really bad to people, you'll be included. I'm not letting petty beefs get in the way. Harmful actions will, however. I need to protect my peace and keep

NO REAL PERSON FANFICTION. Do not write about Oscar Isaac or Pedro pascal being gay or trans and do not make any assumptions about their sexuality or gender identity. Oscar is happily married to a woman and Pedro has expressed his sexuality is like that of Oberyn Martell but has not elaborated much further, nor should he have to. Just leave ‘em be. You can speculate elsewhere but that’s not what this event is for.

How?

Simply tag me, @romanarose and use the #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 please please please use BOTH so it's easier for me to find!!!

When the event is over, much like DDD I will compiled them into a masterlist and posted. This is a chance for every blog, big and small, to get a moment in the sun and to share each others works! Remember, reblogging, comments, and interacting is what makes this a community! I want to create an environment that is welcoming and we all help each other.

Please feel free to reach out to me for any questions or clarification!

However, if you go issues with me writing men kissing, chracters being trans, queer readers etc, I'm not really open to debate.

~A nonbinary bisexual <3

[for-a-longlongtime]

Catch That Buzz

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x nonbinary!reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 Warnings/tags: Smoking (cigarettes, cannabis), fingering, hair pulling (m), biting (m), PiV, oral (reader receiving). Characters are bisexual 💖💜💙, on PrEP + birth control. Reader is nb + AFAB (assigned female at birth), had top surgery. Mention of scars. No use of pronouns, reader has a clit and ‘folds’, gets wet, no further genitalia descriptors.  Word count: 1079

A/N: This suddenly happened, inspired by @sin-djarin‘s and @lotusbxtch‘s input, and with thanks to @perotovar! Casually written format, based on the gifs below. This is for @romanarose‘s Oscar & Pedro Characters Fic Pride event; please go check out the other stories and send in your own! Dividers by @saradika.

Young Santi, pre-Army days or on leave - idk make it work in your mind, time is irrelevant.

but

The way Santi would have YOU light that cigarette for him after you’ve fucked, just to see if your hands could hold it steady enough. And if it does - well then he hasn’t done a good enough job, according to him. 

He'd take a drag of the cigarette and then pull you to sit on his lap, slipping his free hand between your thighs. "C’mon, baby. Ride it for me," stroking you before he slips two fingers inside.

He would finger you to orgasm at least once, probably twice, while he smokes that cigarette. Then depending on his mood - e.g. a lazy Saturday or Sunday would be perfect - he may even light up a joint, shot gunning you as he keeps you in his lap, sitting against his hardening dick. Just slow slow rocking and rubbing against each other, kissing as you're both getting hazy from the weed.

It’s always good to kiss him, but even more so when you’re this relaxed, because he kisses you like *that*, devouring you, slow and easy, while you can’t stop your fingers from playing with those beautiful curls. Soft groans slipping from his lips when he finally breaks your kiss, baring his neck as he tips his head back and you tug a little harder at his curls.

“Malo…”, he warns you, his hands stroking your chest; gently over your scars as always, then a little rougher to tease your nipples until they’re hard. So you taunt him back, tugging his hair just a little harder as you grind yourself against him, still so wet from when he fingered you earlier. You don’t know which strain of weed he tends to buy, but it always makes you so horny despite - or maybe because - everything seems to move so slowly.

It takes a little longer than usual to get him hard when he’s high, but that’s no problem, because one of the perks is that he’s more inclined to let you take charge. And you like it - love it, really - when you push him down on his back and he holds his cock like that, jerking himself off as he gives you a heated look. He whimpers so pretty when you first only let your folds brush over his leaking head, teasing him some more just because you can, and you love that slightly strung out look in his eyes as you sink down on him, he’s always unable to tear his glance away from how you engulf him.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers as he rocks his hips up into you, never one to lay back idly even when you’re riding him like this. But when you pull his hands away from your hips and bring them up above his head, leaning down to kiss him as you hold him pinned against the bed - even though you both know it would take no effort for him to break free -, his breathing will stutter so beautifully.

He tries to hold back, slow down his thrusts into you, but he loves it when you take him like this - when you take what you want from him, and as your hand slides into his curls again, his eyes will flash dark with need and a wordless question. Because despite how soft and hazy and slow everything is like this, you know what it is he wants in that moment.

He moans when you sink your teeth into his shoulder, his breathing growing even heavier, and then that loud hiss you love so much when you tug at his curls. "Fuck me harder, baby," he pants and you do so, tightening your heat around his cock when you bite his other shoulder, curling your fingers just a little more around his locks. Only then you tug *hard* to really make it hurt - the way that makes his breathing stutter so rapidly and desperately in his chest, tears glistering in his eyes from how his scalp stings.

He arches up under you, just like you do when he holds you down and fucks you like this, and when you keep him pressed down and lick his neck, whispering "Come for me, pretty boy" he cries out hard, pumping his seed into you as he stammers your name.

You like to keep him on edge as he tries to catch his breath, tell him to keep his eyes on you as you sit back up and touch yourself while keeping him inside, even as he's softening. He always obeys, dark eyes fixed on you, biting his lower lip which makes it look even more plush than usual. You don't even need to tell him to do so, but you like ordering him around at times like this, particularly because of the eagerness sparking in his eyes to listen like the good soldier he was trained to be.

He loves watching you get yourself off, the way you'll lean back to give him the best view as you spread yourself open for him, your fingers on your clit brushing down every now and then to stroke him where you two are still joined. You know he's bordering on being overstimulated, and that there's only so far you can push him like this, but it's worth it.

Worth seeing the unabashed desire in his eyes like this even though he has already come. Worth hearing him gasp when you tighten yourself around him as you come, but most definitely worth the way he stares at how you move up to let him slip out of you. Because the way his jaw drops without fail when he watches his cum leak out of you, his body nearly shaking at the sight of it - it is priceless -, until he then moves up with a growl and will push you down on your back, not coming up for air until he's eaten his spend out of you and you've come on his tongue, now feeling just as overstimulated as he is. 

You taste yourself on his tongue when he moves up to kiss you, and as you’re both struggling to keep your eyes open from exhaustion and the weed, you know there will be plenty left - for him, for you, for anything - of the weekend once you wake up again.

| Masterlist | Follow @longlongtime-updates for fic updates!

Heads up to (sorry if I tagged you and you aren't interested, or if I forgot to tag you! It's laaate): @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @qveerthe0ry @perotovar

@romanarose @alltheglitterandtheroar @writefightandflightclub @nerdieforpedro @wardenparker

@marisferasiop @ghostofaboy @oliveksmoked @ohforficsake @immarocketman

@pastawench @campingwiththecharmings @demonsandbullets @rae4725 @virtie333

@reallyrallyauthor @ivystoryweaver @flightlessangelwings @freelancearsonist @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@sp00kymulderr @melodygatesauthor @i-own-loki @djarinmuse

[perotovar]

rebirth — a pride month oneshot

pairing: genderfluid!javi gutierrez/ofc/reader (written in 3rd pov) rating: T word count: 2k content: javi uses hey/they pronouns, coming out, discussions of gender identity, mentions of misgendering and worries about being cast out/attacked for one's identity (doesn't actually happen), reader is only referred to as "she", google translate spanish, spanish pet names (used by both javi and reader), if i missed anything lmk! dividers: by @saradika-graphics beta: @qveerthe0ry and @scenaaario ily both ♥

summary: javi has been wanting to let his partner know something for a long time. in fact, this is something that javi has thought about for their entire life, and they're comfortable enough to finally say it.

a/n: written as a part of @romanarose 's pride event for week 1: coming out! i wanted to try something a little different and i hope you'll give it a try ♥

for any future fics, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifications ♥

They were both in the living room, the credits for their weekly movie rolling in front of them. Javi had been wanting to tell her this for a while now. If they didn’t get it out now, he was sure he never would.

“I believe I am… trans,” Javi said into the quiet room, gaze fixed to the floor.

She blinked, shifting her attention from Instagram and letting his admission settle over her. Javi curled in on himself, still unable to meet her gaze. She locked her phone and set it down on the coffee table, giving Javi her complete attention.

“Oh?” She asked quietly.

Javi closed his eyes briefly and nodded, hands balled into fists against his knees. “Y-yes, I,” he gulped. “Um. I feel… Inside. I feel it inside.”

She had no personal experience in any of this before, but Javi was coming to her in confidence. Javi trusted her with this side of… them? Him? Her? She really wasn’t sure which applied to Javi at this point.

She nodded, considering. “H-have you, um,” she gulped. “What brought you to that… conclusion? I’m sorry, osito, I’m… I’m new to,” she gestured vaguely, but stopped in case that came off as dismissive. “I’m not sure what I should say.”

Javi finally turned to her, huffing out a laugh and wiping his eyes. They grabbed their love’s hand and held it gently in their own.

“I am sorry,” he said softly. “I just sort of… sprung this on you, but. It has been on my mind a lot lately.”

She nodded, urging Javi to continue.

“I did not have the language that is available now, as I was growing up. I’m not sure if I’m… I do not believe I am a woman, but,” Javi paused, looking down at their clasped hands.. She squeezed their hand reassuringly, and Javi squeezed back. “Masculinity is… fragile.”

She snorted at that, making Javi laugh a little as well.

“Well, it is, but you know what I’m saying,” Javi giggled. 

“I do.”

“I have always felt disconnected with masculinity. There were so many things men were supposed to do, to be,” Javi sighed. “I never felt like I– Like I was one of those people.”

“Should I–” she started, but fell quiet. “Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt you, osito,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb across his cheek. Javi leaned into the touch, and gave a small shake of his head.

“Por favor, pregunta.”

“How should… Is there a name more fitting for you now? Or new… pronouns?”

Javi bit their lip, thinking about it. “I like my name,” they said easily. “And… I think I like ‘they’?” Javi shrugged. “It is still new for me as well.”

She giggled softly and leaned closer to press her forehead to theirs “That’s okay. We can… We’re in this together, mi osito.”

Javi’s cheeks flushed. They nodded, steeling themself for their next announcement. “I, um. I was wondering if you could… help me?”

She leaned back to look at him, eyes questioning. “Of course, amor. Whatever you need.”

“Um, I purchased some… clothes and makeup and I was wondering if you could help me put some outfits together?” He rushed out shyly.

She beamed, excited at the idea of helping her love explore something they’d always wanted to.

“It’s just–” Javi gulped. “You always look so put together and pretty and–” “Javi,” she chuckled, taking his face in both hands. “I’d love to help you.”

The smile on Javi’s face could rival the sun.

Javi Gutierrez, he/they, discovered the word “genderfluid” a few months later. He liked that word, but it made everything all the more real. He knew that things were changing, but his mind was filled with brand new anxieties. He worried about being disrespected in meetings with studio executives, being misgendered, blacklisted, or even worse, a target.

For now, at least, he kept his identity private. Only his love, and immediate team were aware. To others, Javi was just a little adventurous when it came to fashion.

Ever since coming out to their partner, they’d gotten really good at applying their own eyeliner and lipstick, always a pretty neutral color that complimented his skin tone beautifully. Having lived in Mallorca most of his life, his wardrobe was already full of color, and he never shied away from the more “feminine” colors. Who knew wearing a pink suit would cause such a stir?

Some days they felt more masculine, and other days he felt more feminine. When they felt somewhere in the middle, they got to play around with some androgyny. The freedom to just… be was such a weight lifted off his shoulders. There were no restrictions to what they could do anymore. No pressures to act or look or be a certain way.

Javi was just… Javi.

And right now, Javi was nervous, but excited. 

“Mi amor, look! What do you think? Do you think it is too much for the luncheon?” Javi asked brightly, twirling a little in their shared closet.

She gave him a once over and felt her heart flutter at just how happy Javi looked. She’d always had her suspicions about Javi, especially the longer they’d been together. Javi always carried themself a little… differently than most men. She understood now that it was because Javi wasn’t like most men. Or even a man at all. Well, not really, anyway.

“I love the color... but it may be a little too short,” Javi pouted, nervously tugging at the hem of the skirt.

“Oh, it’s perfect, mi osito,” she grinned, stepping closer to them. “However,” she started, biting her lip as she gave him another look. Javi’s eyes widened and their cheeks flushed. “I think you should wear your knee high socks with it. Balance it out a little.”

“Are you sure?” Javi blinked owlishly. They looked into the full length mirror turning first to the left, then right, assessing the outfit. He had chosen a matching set in a soft lavender, the delicate shade perfect against his golden skin. The tennis skirt made his ass look fantastic, and the polo shirt hugged his biceps perfectly, showing off his broad shoulders. The strip of skin that peeked out between the two pieces was an added bonus. “I haven’t worn anything this… obvious to this sort of meeting before.”

“What do you want to do, honey? I think you’ll look beautiful whatever you decide to wear,” she smiled, coming up behind them to wrap her arms around their waist. She kissed their shoulder comfortingly, nuzzling into the soft fabric.

Javi bit his lip as he turned in the mirror again. “I love the skirt. I love how it feels, but… Perhaps it is too casual? No quiero ser poco profesional.”

She hummed in understanding. “Maybe the earrings? The new ones,” she offered instead.

The tiny silver hoops with small crystals in the colors of the genderfluid flag were more delicate than Javi usually wore. The gender euphoria he would feel during the luncheon far outweighed the subtlety of the jewelry.

“Good idea,” Javi smiled, turning in her arms to cup her face and kiss her tenderly. She hummed happily into it, keeping her hands on their hips. As he pulled away, Javi’s eyes softened at her blissful expression. “I am not sure what I did to deserve you, but… I’m not complaining,” he chuckled softly.

Her heart thudded in her chest. She felt the exact same way. It would take a little time for her to get used to all the complexities and nuances of Javi’s gender, but she was willing to put in the work. She loved him, loved them for exactly the person Javi was.

“Perhaps I should not question it too much, hm?” Javi winked, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Probably for the best,” she winked back. “Now, go get dressed so I can take you out later, ok?”

Javi smiled brightly and nodded, parting from her to get changed.

“I am nervous, mi amor,” Javi whispered, clutching her hand tightly in his own. 

“You’ll be just fine. And you’ve got me here with you,” she grinned, and gave him a light peck on the cheek. “Don’t want to mess up your makeup,” she said, rubbing an invisible smudge off his highlighted cheekbone and winking.

Javi exhaled a heavy breath, eyes fluttering shut as he centered himself. “Alright. Press record, por favor.”

“Hola mis amigos,” they said shakily. "I have… I have something I’ve been meaning to share with all of you.” As nervous as Javi was, there was an undeniable determination in their eyes.

To say Javi’s coming out video went viral would be an understatement. Javi Gutierrez, screenplay writer and part-time producer, famed for working with the likes of Nicolas Cage, was coming out as genderfluid. It was on every news article and Twitter account for weeks.

Javi expected there to be mixed reactions, but the only opinions that they really cared about were from the people they’d be working with directly. His team had known for a long time, and they’d been out to themself for two years. They were sufficiently comfortable in this identity, and if he lost out on certain jobs, they weren’t worth having in the first place.

He did a few interviews after his initial coming out video, but made it clear that they didn’t want this to be something he had to talk about in every interview going forward. Yes, he was genderfluid, but it wasn’t the only thing.

Thankfully, lots of Javi’s celebrity friends were on his side. Every new set he worked on, he heard encouraging words from the cast and crew. A co-star who’s brand hinged on being very feminine, said Javi’s video unlocked a lot of feelings they had been trying to repress. One of the lighting guys, a man who could have passed for a member of the Hell’s Angels, quietly asked him for makeup recommendations while blocking a close-up shot. He worried about the people who wouldn’t be supportive, until he realized he had so many people in his corner that the bigots didn’t matter. 

And above all else, he had her. She accepted them for who they were and even if she had questions or didn’t understand something, she made it a point to ask or do her own research. 

Javi had never felt so seen. So respected.

And here, laying in her arms, head resting on her chest, they felt protected and loved.

“Your hair is getting long, mi osito,” she hummed quietly, twirling an errant curl around her finger.

“Sí, quería ver cómo quedaría,” Javi muttered, lifting their head and resting their chin on her stomach. He made eye contact with her, getting lost in the color of her eyes. “I have always wanted to know how I looked with long hair.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be gorgeous, mi amor. These curls of yours,” she sighed wistfully. 

Javi swayed their head from side to side, those curls bouncing and dancing along the tops of his shoulders. “You have said how much you love them,” Javi giggled.

“Well, it’s the truth. Maybe we can get some things to put in it once it’s even longer,” she offered, smiling softly.

Javi’s eyes grew wide and he sat up, on the bed, legs tucked under his backside. They were wearing a pale blue silk nightie that hugged their thighs and accentuated their shoulders beautifully. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“I would love that!” Javi exclaimed excitedly.

“Then it shall be so,” she grinned, playing with the bottom hem of the nightie they were wearing. She gazed up at him through her lashes, taking in the sharp angle of his cupid’s bow and full bottom lip. “When do you need to wake up, mi amor?”

Javi’s breath hitched as her fingers crept underneath the silk and across his thighs, and his gaze dropped to the smooth column of her neck. Their eyes met as he crawled over her to straddle her lap. 

“Not early,” he hummed, “Did you have plans for this evening?” They asked mischievously, leaning in to tease open mouthed kisses across her collarbone.

“Maybe,” she sighed, reaching around to squeeze his ass, bare under the nightie.

“Good,” Javi smiled, leaning down to kiss her deeply, hungrily. She moaned into their mouth, relaxing as they found a comfortable rhythm.

And that’s just how it was for them. They were in sync. Javi had a feeling they always would be.

a/n: if you're curious to know what sort of nightie javi is wearing, this is what i was picturing ♥

[winniethewife]

'Cause shade never made anybody less gay so (Jake Lockley X GN!reader)

Week 4: Food, fashion, fun

Words: 637

A/N: Thanks to @midgardian-witch and @ominoose for help coming up with drag queen names For @romanarose 's Pride event!

“Jake c’mon we don’t wanna miss the show!” they excitedly jump up and down, they had been having a great time at the local pride fest. They were covered head to toe in rainbow merch, they had even convinced Jake to let them pin some rainbow pins and ribbons to his hat, he's also wearing so many Mardi gras beads that its giving his neck a work out.

“Muy bien, vamos!” he laughed, he loved how excited they were for this, they had been in a bit of a slump recently, a mix of their work and personal life were rather taxing on them as of late, so this one day out at pride was exactly what they were looking for. A chance to have fun, to be themselves and not worry about the outside world. As they approached the stage they both found a place to sit in the amphitheater. They watch the act that was currently on finish their routine and exit the stage. As they do the MC, a drag king in an ill-fitting suit, Dark eyeliner and a pencil mustache walks on the stage.

“Please give your warmest regards to the duo, Lola Lavish & Pippa Pizazz!! I see we have some new faces in the crowd so let me introduce myself again, I’m Vin Dictive, No really that’s my name, Although, I am know to be hell bent on revenge on occasion.” Jake let out a laugh along with the rest of the crowd. Vin Dictive gave a exaggerated bow to the laughter. “Thank you, Thank you! Now as a quick reminder this show is for charity, so all our tips today are going to The Trevor Project, so please tip our good performers in good faith, and good money.” There was a cheer from the crowd and Vin gave a big simile. “Alright you’ve heard enough of me yapping, lets give it up for our next performer…Marry Golds!”

As Vin dictive left the stage a song began to play as the blonde haired, er wigged? Jake wasn’t sure what the right term was, either way She entered the stage lip syncing to the song and doing some rather impressive choreography.

“You are somebody that I don't know, But you're taking shots at me like it's Patrón, And I'm just like "Damn, it's 7:00 a.m."

They leaned over and whispered in Jakes ear. “I think you’d make a really great drag queen Jake.” He chuckled.

“Yeah? You think? What would I call myself Senorita Tortilla?” he asked with a laugh. "Hola Soy Senorita Tortilla!" He said with a tip of his cap. they burst out laughing

“I donno that’s a pretty good name.” they gave him a smile, before returning their gaze to the performance. As the Drag queen came to the edge of the stage they stood up and held up a five dollar bill, which the drag queen took with a flourish, blowing a kiss in their direction before continuing the show. Jake gave them an affectionate look as they sat back down. “What? It’s for charity.” They said laughing.

“Of course, of course. I was just thinking how cute you looked up there.” He gives them a little nudge.  They blush slightly, Jake couldn’t help but smile. He was glad they made time to do this. They looked so happy, and it was a lot of fun. He at some point forgets to watch the drag queen, focused on how they danced along to the song.

“Like, can you just not step on our gowns? You need to calm down.”  They sing along with the ending before looking over at Jake with a smile. “What is it now Lockely?”

“Te amo, Mi amor.” He said softly. They look at him with a soft smile.

“I love you too. So much.”

~

Translations:

Muy bien, vamos : Very good lets go!

Hola Soy Senorita Tortilla: Hello, I'm Miss Tortilla.

Masterlist

Taglist: @romanarose @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

Please Consider donating to The Trevor Project this pride

[romanarose]

You'd Love Me If I Was a Worm, Would You Love Me If I Was A Man?

Santiago Garcia x transman!reader

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist

Made for the Oscar/Pedro Pride Event

Summary: You're Santi's wife or so he thinks, he loves you very, very much... You're scared to ruin it with honesty.

Or

You come out as trans to Santi

Warnings: Pretty mild, Santi is perfect. Gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, mentions of conversion therapy.

AN: This is just based on my feelings right now. IDK exactly how I identify, but doing things like cutting my hair and dressing more masculine has helped me a lot. No one needs to cut their hair short to be a man, trans or otherwise, nor does a trans person NEED surgery or any changes. This is simply based on my experience. People feel this differently.

1k words

“How’s my favorite girl?”

Santi greeted you as he came home, finding you in your bathroom staring at your face and your body in your underwear, cringing at him calling you a girl but trying to hide the visceral reaction. You hated your hair, you hated how feminine it made you look, but you knew Santi loved it, so you kept it long and usually in a ponytail.No matter how hard you tried, no matter the body positivity, no matter how good you objectively looked and how Santiago worshiped it, none of it felt right to you. You’d been considering telling him how you’d been feeling for some time, but it felt selfish. How could you tell him you thought you might be a man when he fell in love with a woman?

He clocked your cringe, as he always did your discomfort. “What’s wrong, bebita?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, just tired.”

“I don’t believe you for a second, c’mon.” taking your hand, Santi pulls you into the bedroom and sits you down with him, his eyes pleading with you for honesty. “You can talk to me, it’s okay.”

Your eyes fill up with tears, stressing out and over thinking it all so much. “It’s not fair to you.” You begin to cry, and it isn’t. This isn't what Santi signed up for when he married you. He married his wife, not whatever was happening to you right now. You should’ve told him, you should’ve been honest with from the start. “I thought this would go away, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I lied to you!”

Horrified at the tears, Santiago pulls you into his arms. “Oh honey… whatever it is, you can tell me, please. Nothing is too much, you’re my wife, and I’m gonna take care of you, always.” 

It couldn’t be hidden anymore. You had to be honest before you wasted more of his time. Pulling back, you look him in the eyes, your own still watering. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m your wife…” You watch his eye widen and you realize your choice of words was poor. “Nonono! Not like that!” You’re quick to reassure him you aren’t leaving him. He’ll probably leave you, however. “I just mean…” Big breath. “I feel… like I’m a man.”

He looked confused for a second before recognition registered on his face.

“Oh… how long have you felt this way?” You couldn’t get a read on his reaction yet, but he still held your hands.

“I really, really long time, Santi. I thought I’d grow out of it…”

He nods. “Since you were a kid?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “I tried to tell my parents but… they… They sent me away.”

Santiago’s face hardened at that. “Conversion therapy?”

Memories flooded back to what you suffered there, creating a fresh bout of tears down your face. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I tried to put it away but nothing worked! I know you probably don’t want me any more but please, please I’m gonna try, I can go to therapy again-”

You try to tell him that you can change, to give you a chance and you’ll fix it, trying to walk yourself back into the closet after being out less than 5 minutes, but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“Baby,” He stresses, pain on his face as cups your cheek with his hands, thumbing away a tear. “I’m not leaving you, and you are not going to conversion therapy, you hear me? That is not happening. We’re gonna do whatever we need to do to make you feel comfortable with yourself, okay? If that means transitioning, then we’ll make it happen.”

In shock, you blink. “But… Santi, you’re not gay…”

Santiago chuckles a little. “I don’t really know how this works, to be honest. I didn’t think I was either but… I love you. I’m attracted to you. That’s what I know.” When you didn’t look convinced, he continued. “Remember all the times you asked me if I’d love you if you were a worm?”

You giggle a little at the memory, beginning to feel better. “Yeah, you were confused.”

He nods with a smile. “Yeah, so were most of the guys. But Will told me it’s not about if I’d actually love you if you were a worm, because you’d never actually be a worm. It’s about being reassured that no matter what, I’d still be yours and you’d still be mine. So I told you I’d make you a little garden like Oscar the grouch has for wormy.”

You’re smiling now too. “And read me worm versions of fairy tales before bed.”

“And kiss your little worm head, because I love you. So, if you feel like you are a man, and you want to live life as man and if that makes me gay then yeah. I’m gay. I don’t really care about that. I care about you.”

"And... maybe, maybe its not even that I'm a man... just maybe not fully a woman?"

"Like, one of those in between things?"

You laugh at his wording. He may not have the best terminology, but he tries.

He sighs softly, holding your face. "If you feel like you're non... binary?" He asks questioningly, and you nod so he continues. "Or half and half or non at all... that's okay too. Whatever you are, i's what you are, and you're still you to me. But, baby." He kisses the tip of your nose. "Don't try and lessen it for me, okay? If you want to live and be fully as man, then that's what it is."

Letting his words sink in, your heart fills with love at his unconditional affection. “So… what next? What do I even do now?”

“Well,” Santi considers next steps. “I think we try to get you in with a doctor. I don’t think it goes straight to surgery,” He says with a tease. “But maybe hormones? I don’t know. I can talk to Ben whenever you’re ready for me to, I know he knows more of this than I do.”

“Can we maybe…” Your reach for a tissue, blowing it as you calm down more and more. “Can I maybe start with a haircut.”

This makes Santi laugh, standing up and taking you with him to capture you in a full body hug. “Of course we can! You don’t need my permission to get a haircut, mi cielo!” You notice how he immediately changed to masculine gendered terms of endearment. “Santi peppered kisses all over your face. “Wanna go today?”

You’re so excited at the idea, you readily agree.

An hour later, the kind stylist is chopping off your hair. As she gives you a moment to sit with the cut, Santi comes up behind the chair, wrapping his arms around you. “How do you feel, mi amor.” He says with a kiss to your neck.

You take in this first step, the start of a journey that you knew wouldn’t be easy but you had the best person ever by your side.

“I think… I actually feel like myself.”

shout out to @hee-blee-art for these cute ass dividers that were wierdly specific to this story lol

Most unrealistic thing about this fic is reader saying Santi isn't gay. Did we see the same movie? homosexual activity was hapeing on those mountains

HAPPY PRIDE!!! I can't wait to see what everyone did for this event <3

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Epilogue

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: Blue sets up her future in Joel's life, step by step by step

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

TAGS HAVE BEEN SHITTY make sure you're caught up!!

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

9 years later.

Life was good. Really fucking good.

You had two teenagers which was… fucking insane, honestly. Sarah and Ellie were close as two almost-twins could get, and often fought like it too. Nothing nasty or mean spirited, just so clearly sister stuff like Ellie using Sarah’s deodorant or Sarah taking Ellie’s coat. They’d fight and yell and Joel would tell them to knock it off before they stormed off. An hour later Ellie would say hey, the bachelor is on, wanna watch? Or Sarah would throw hot cheettos at Ellie and they’d be back to normal.

Tommy had been mostly sober for 5 years, his longest stretch yet. It was looking up, even after a few close calls. There had been a night or two Tommy had called Joel, close to relapse, but being the good brother he was Joel was always there. After a few years at his own apartment, Tommy had suffered a pretty bad near-relapse on hard drugs. He broke his 3 years sobriety on alcohol and called Joel one night crying while he was watching The Late Late Show, Sarah and Ellie up past their bedtimes one summer. 

“Tommy? What’s going on, man?” Joel stands up from the couch, already moving to get his shows as Ellie mutes Craig Furegson. Everyone is quiet as Joel listens. “I’ll be right there, man, don’t worry. Nah, it ain’t a problem at all, Tommy, Blue’s here with the girls.”

Joel stayed with a drunk Tommy all night, holding him, putting on shows, ordering pizza, playing card games, anything it took to keep Tommy from calling up his old dealer.

In the morning, Joel brought him home to sleep. It was the summer, so you were off and could watch Tommy while Joel went to work, Tommy using a sick day at the farm and Joel and Tess hustling extra hard to make up for it. It didn’t matter, because it was Tommy, and they’d do anything for him.

When he put Tommy asleep on the couch, Ellie and Sarah asked to talk to you and Blue, pulling you into Ellie’s room.

Ellie steepled her hands, looking like an evil villain in a made-for-tv-movie. “We have a proposition for you.”

“You’re not getting your nose pierced-”

“Joel.” You chastise.

“Sorry El, what is it.”

Ellie looks to Sarah, urging her on.

“We think uncle Tommy should move in with us again. We love him, and it worries us that he’s had to call you so much recently.”

You can see Joel close his eyes, the wrinkles around his face compounding. He was getting older, as were you, and you loved every single wrinkles and gray and pop of his knees. You speak before he does, knowing your husband is tired.

“I’m sorry, girls. We never wanted Tommy’s issues to effect you.”

Sarah: “We knew there were problems, even when we were young. It’s hard not to notice, you couldn’t have hid that unless he was never around, and we wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Besides, mom.” Ellie adds. “We’re teenagers now. 13 and 14 are practically adults!”

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t right to be worry’n about that at your age.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about every single thing all the time, and yet you do anyway, so it’s even!”

You crack a smile, Ellie, despite no blood relation at all, had taken after you, while Sarah reminded you a lot like her godmother, Talia, mixed with some of her dad. Ellie was agreat kid, even as she entered her teens, she remained steadfast. There was a… slight issue with her getting in fights in school, but when they talked to the principal, there was always a reason you thought made sense, even if the school was displeased. Once, some girl called Sarah a slur. Another time, a boy was bullying a disabled kid. They found out Ellie was gay after the incident where she punched a kid for pushing a boys head in a toilet for being gay.

By this point, coming out wasn’t a nerve wracking thing in your family for Ellie. You and Joel had made it very clear that they had nothing to worry about, and that much was obvious by the people in the girls' lives; Bill and Frank still employed Tommy Tess and Joel and had an active part in the girls' lives even though they could stay home during harvest now. Talia and Tess were their beloved aunts. Sarah was very close to Talia, bonding over hours of doing hair. Ellie and Tess clicked right now, both tomboys, but both girls loved both aunts. 

And of course there was Tommy. When Tommy came out, it began a long struggle of keeping him out of the closet. He switched from gay, bisexual, then insisting he was straight over and over again whenever he went through some identity crisis, or when he reconnected with military friends, or he heard of some hate crime. No girlfriend, no boyfriend, just a cycle of hook ups to keep him distracted.

The girls loved their uncle, Sarah in particular was attached at the hip to him, and it hurt her when he was hurting. You and Joel had tried to protect her, but she was an intuitive girl.

And then, there was you. You had wanted to wait until the girls were a little older to explain things to them, but they went to school in the same district you had taught in. a friend of Sarah’s suddenly wasn’t allowed to play at your home anymore, and soon a rumor went around school that you were born a man. Sarah came home crying one day when she was 12, and you didn’t want to lie to her. You and Joel sat Ellie and her down and explained it to them as best you could for their age. There weren't any handbooks for this sort of thing. 

There was a moment, a brief moment of worry in your head. The echo of Kayla’s voice telling you Sarah wouldn’t love you when she found out. But Kayla didn’t know Sarah. She’d probably seen Sarah three time since the day you confronted her for hurting Joel, and then disappeared. The only time you heard from her after that was when she sent back the papers, signed, relinquishing her parental rights so you could adopt Sarah. She enclosed a $50 check, and although Joel had told her that she could still see Sarah as long as Sarah agreed, you haven't heard from her since. 

At ages 11 for Ellie and 10 for Sarah, you held your daughters in the courthouse as they were legally adopted.

Now, you stood in the upstairs of the home you shared with your daughters and your husband as they showed you just the kind of young ladies they’d grown into.

Joel shook his head. “Thank you, girls, but we ain’t got room here. He’ll stay on the couch for a few days, but I don’t think he’d wanna stay there for more than that.”

After a bad night, Tommy stayed for a little bit. Joel said couch, but sometimes you took the couch so Tommy could sleep in the bed with Joel if he really was in a bad way. You loved Tommy like a brother, you and him getting close in the nearly year you both lived with Tess and Talia. 

Sarah and Ellie looked at each other, and Sarah spoke. “We decided we’d combine our rooms. Ellie will come sleep with me, and Uncle Tommy could have his old room back.”

You immediately felt your eyes watering, realizing how good your children had become, how much like their father they’d grown into. This is Joel’s call. “Girls, no, I don’t want y’all making these sacrifices-”

“Uncle Tommy raised me. And, no offense, but he’s my favorite person.” She said with a smile. “We want to.” And Ellie agreed.

Joel was still declining, but wavering. “I- thats very nice but if he were to move it, we’d have to commit to a year, maybe two, I don’t know…”

Ellie spoke now. “We think it would be best if he stayed for a while. We’re prepared to commit to this through high school. We wanna do this dad.” Her sincerity struck you, a young woman grown up right before your eyes. 

You turn to Joel.  “Baby… I think it might be a good idea…” When you turn to look at your husband, he has a tear rolling down his face and his chest breathing heavily. 

“Babygirls.” Joel’s voice warbled. “I love you, so much.”

When Tommy was sober and the worst of his hangove was done, you spoke to him.

2 months later he was moved into Ellie’s old room where he’s been the last year.

*

It’d been a year since that morning, and things were better than ever.

Tommy was sober, the girls were happy, you and Joel were happy, and everyone had driven out to Austin to celebrate Ellie’s first pride.

“Whatya think, kiddo?” Frank asked, clapping her back softly with his hand.

Ellie smiled widely, taking in everything around her.  “Pretty fucking cool!”

“Language.” Her dad chastised, earning a nudge from you. He continued. “Don’t be wonder’n off girls, it ain’t safe-”

You decide to tease him, being the only none LGBT person here, other than Sarah, although at 13 there was no reason she needed to commit either way. 

“Oh, so because almost everyone here is gay, it’s inherently more dangerous? Okay Joel.”

But Joel was not to be fooled when you’ve been playing this game for ten years. “Nice try baby…” He paused for a moment before adding, “You know it’s because the city makes me nervous, right? Not because-”

“I know, Joely” You pinch his butt, making Tess behind you gag, as if she hadn’t gotten a grab of a few Miller buttcheeks back before getting married. Well, legally recognized in the State of Massachutis, and not in the other 49.

“What about him?” Ellie asks loudly, pointing to a guy and nudging her uncle. “He looks like he could teach you better spanish.”

Tommy flicked her. “Don’t fuck’n point, shit head.” He ignored Joel’s tired reminder for language. Tommy is where she picked up the habit. “And just because he’s got brown skin doesn’t mean he speaks spanish.”

Ellie looked to Sarah. Sarah’s eyes said no. Ellie’s impulse control said yes. “Hey! You!” Ellie shouts to the man while everyone around her tries to stop her. Poor guy was just trying to get a hot dog.

“Hey?” He looked confused but not unkind as she walked fearlessly too him. He was a little taller than her dad, not by much, dark curls sticking to his head with sweat. It wasn’t even noon yet, but June in Austen could kill. 

Joel is calling Ellie’s name, pulling on her arm but she turns to him, looking up. “Let me do this or I will start screaming stranger danger.” Joel let go, but facepalmed, staying right next to her none the less. “You speak spanish?” She asked the man, thumbing towards Tommy. “My unce here is looking to brush up.” Double Miller facepalm.

“Uhhhhh, no, but I can get by in Hindi.” He looked to Tommy with a grin. “I can impress some desi MILFs, if that’s your goal.”

Tommy swooped in slinging Ellie over his shoulder as she shouted ‘hey!’ and began backing away. “Don’t listen to her, she’s- I swear we’re not racist- I told her not to assume- listen, she knows like, no white people- I’m Mexican!” He nervous rambled, Ellie over his shoulder telling him he’s floundering.

The man just laughed. “Hey, it’s alright, man. Don’t worry about it.”

Tommy mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and turned around. Now facing the stranger, Ellie frantically motioned toward Tommy to him, pointing and drawing hearts in the air.

*

After running into him and embarrassing Tommy a few more times, Ellie and Sarah got his business card. Jake and Tommy have talked every day since.

That night, the girls sound asleep in their room, Tommy on the phone with Jake, you keep your hand wrapped tight around your husband's cock. You were tired, not wanting to get up to any antics but you definitely wanted to make your husband cum. He deserved an orgasm for dealing with crowds of strange people in a big city, constantly alert for his daughters, Tommy, Tess, Talia, you, and even Frank. Him and Bill were the same in that aspect, always keeping an eye on theirs, protecting the good people in this world. You suspected Bill was getting the same treatment on the farm right now. Well, almost. Bill didn’t strike you as the type to put up with edging.

“There you go baby, there you go… so close, so close… ah! Not yet!” You squeeze at the base of Joel’s cock, staving off his orgasm a third time. Oh, you were a tease.

“Blue, come ooooon!” He whines, fingers gripping the sheets so hard one corner was already pulled off the bed. “This ain’t fair.”

You begin to stroke him again, his hard and thick cock not allowing for you fingers to close around it, thick and juicy and oh-so mouth watering. 

“Ooooh poor baby boy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” You lied

“You always- ooohhh shit” Joel moans out for you, you love seeing your big tough man reduced to a whimpering puddle just from a little bit of edging. “You always say that, Blue”

Still, you laugh, your hand moving up and down on his cock as Joel begin to buck his hips into your fist. Silly boy, he thinks if he can reach his high faster, you’ll let him have it. “I know, I’m a meany meany.” You pinch his orgasm off again, giggling when he whispers a harsh-

“Fuck!” 

“Aht, aht, aht!” You continue to tease, spitting on his already over stimulated cock before playing with him more. “Language!” You reference his police of Ellie and Tommy.

Joel flops his head on the pillow. Your little pillow princess. “Oh I see. Y-your-” His words are cut off hummed whimper, his cute little feet wiggling. “You're punishing me for being annoying today?” He chuckles a little, knowing it’s all in fun.

You kiss his forehead. “Not one bit, baby. You’re my perfect man, and I want you to come. Go ahead Joel, come for me.” You pump him as the love of your life groans, covering your hand and his stomach in cum.

Once cleaned and in PJ’s, ready to sleep the fuck in on sunday, you assume your position behind him, wrapping your arms around his wide middle, getting a little wider every year, and kiss his scruffy neck. “Thank you for all you do for our family, baby.”

“Ain’t no thing.”

“But it is.” You coax him to look at you, his eyes wide and brown and beautiful. “I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I had parents as supportive as you, loved me so unconditionally.” Things with your parents were pretty good now, they were. As well as you supposed it could get. They loved Sarah and Ellie and visited a few times a year, as you did them. Reconciling was more about giving grandparents to those girls they wouldn’t have otherwise. The day you met Joel, he said he hates his birthday, and that never changed. Years later, he’ll have a cake and accepts gifts, but it’s mostly for his girls. You found out his dad died on his birthday, leaving him without any parents. “Things would be so different. I wouldn’t have gone through addiction, I could have started hormones earlier and maybe I’d look-”

“Blue.” Joel turned over to cup your face. “There ain’t nothing wrong with the way you look. You’re my beautiful wife, and thats that.”

You smile at him. “Thank you, baby. But I mean it. I love that we can provide a different environment for Ellie to come out in.”

“I am too, mi amor.” He smiles back, and you lay your head on his chest. 

You wore his old flannel that night. It felt like home.

Wow, its been a ride!!

I know this series was small but im so thankful for everyone who read it and supported me!!!!

I hope somewhere out there, a transwoman reads this and feels seen <3 you are valued, you are important, you are loved

I love blue and I love the little word here, the found family Joel has gained over the years!!!! Now Jake enters the picture!

If you have any questions about this world, loose ends you didnt think i tied up or you have any additional q's of any kind, comment, reblog, or send an ask! Im happy to answer!

I love you all so much!

Please consider making a small donation to The Trevor Project <3

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Chapter 5

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: For week 3 of my pride event: Sex. Joel and Blue make everything official. Kayla ruins everything.

ADDITIONAL WARNING: Sorry ya'll this just happened with the story and it felt right for what was happening and the characters.. Warning for brief DV nothing extreme or detailed.

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

A/N: Not to sound like a 2012 wattpad writer but I cried writing this.

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

Things had been going well for weeks. Kayla had been taking Sarah on weekends consistently, which meant she didn’t have a man to distract her. This, however, meant she didn’t have a man to distract her away from Joel’s love life. Still, a little bit of boundary setting had done well for him, and Kayla had mostly been minding her business. Joel was able to see Blue every weekend, and was even able to spend more time with Tommy and Tess which was rare. 

Tonight, he had just got done having dinner at your house and was cuddling on the couch with you in his arms, all wrapped up. He liked moments like this a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he’d gone to another show with you and had a good time, but he was definitely happy to just sit at home with you.

You’d seemed an unlikely pair, you and him. You liked leather and black and grunge. He liked country and jeans and… well he wasn’t really sure what he really ”liked”, honestly. He loved Sarah. He liked All That, he liked Arthur, he didn't like Barney, he liked Franklin… what did he watch when Sarah was in bed? Sleep. He mostly slept. Sometimes he watched King of the Hill… he listened to Clinton Black, Garth Brooks… Sarah liked Reba, which was nice. Things to do for fun? He liked to play the guitar for Sarah. He liked to go to the park with Sarah. He liked to go with Sarah and Tommy to the roller rink… 

“I’d like yuh to meet Sarah.” Joel said against your ear, arms wrapped around your waste as he lay propped up against the arm rest. “Really meet her this time”

You paused, then sat up to turn and face him. You were smiling softly, eyes wide. “Really? I don’t want you to feel like you have to… but I’d love too…” Something hit you, making you bite your lip. “Introduce me as… what, exactly.” When you saw his eyes widen, you told him he didn’t have to pick a label right now, but he cut you off.

“My girlfriend. If you wanna.”

You squeal, returning to his arms for a hug and a kiss. “Yes!!!”

Joel returns the kiss, pulling you close, sliding a hand to the small of your back as you deepened the kiss, straddling his body. You and him had been making out, and of course the blow job outside the concert, but no sex. Not yet…

“Stay the night.” You whispered between kisses. “We don’t gotta do nothing you’re not ready for, but I’d love if you wanted to stay over”

Joel looked up at you, heart swelling faster than his cock in his pants. He reached up to touch your face. “I’m ready… only if you wanna”

You responded by grinding your cunt over his jeans, kissing him once more. You slide your tongue into his mouth, dominating the kiss and him. When you make it to the bedroom, Joel follows your lead, letting you press him up against the door as you fiddle with his belt. “Got any- mphhh- got any questions?”

His brow furrowed, looking a little confused and flushed. “With what? I don’t know if you know this, but I ain’t a virgin. Kid and all.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” You chuckle. “I meant with the whole ‘not born with a vagina’ thing.”

The look on his face told you he forgot about that. “Oh. Um… I guess… can you… um…”

“Orgasm?!?!” You bawked, in disbelief that at the prospect of having sex with a transwomen, something he barely knew existed before you, and he’s concerned if you’re going to have a good time. “Yes, I can orgasm Joel. I got a fucked ton of lube by my drawer too, so we’re covered there, baby. Just.” you sigh, guiding him to the bed as you pull down his pants. “Sweetie,” You coo, his big brown eyes gazing adoringly as you return to your rightful place above him. “Just let me take care of you tonight, ‘kay? I got you.”

Awestruck, you nodded. “Yes ma’am.” In his dark boxer briefs, his cock is straining, heavy.

You slowly pull his briefs down, Joel humps his hips up to help and you stare in aw as his cock strings free. He’s hung, absolutely packing and you can see why Tess came back for a few more rounds. Getting a chance to look at him, really look at him this time… Big dick, big eyes, big man… bigger heart. He’s soft, kind. He’s gentle in a way you’d never seen from a southern farmer, a body capable of total destruction if he wanted to, but no room in his heart for it. You couldn’t imagine your sweet, precious man hurting anyone.

When you took him in your mouth, you couldn’t make it all the way down. You’d practice on tat, vowing to be able to deep throat him, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was a mess already. When was the last time he fucked someone? It’d been a few years since Tess and she never mentioned Joel having a girl since Kayla… You wanted to make him feel good. But Joel had other plans. 

“Wanna taste you.” He begs, tugging at your hair. “Really wanna taste you, Blue, please?” Joel is practically whimpering at you like a puppy and god, who are you to deny him? 

“You ever had someone sit on your face, Joel?”

He nods. Good, you didn’t wanna freak him out. He’s not a virgin, but you didn’t think he was the most experienced either. “Stay there.”

You spread your legs over his face, carefully lowering yourself on him when he surprises you by grabbing your thighs and yanking you down. “Hungry boy” You chuckle, delighted with his excitement. He shows no interest in the slight scarring, if he was even paying enough attention to notice; he seemed preoccupied.

Joel devoured you whole, moving and working with your body as you ground yourself on his face. He felt good, he knew what he was doing, that was for sure. Even if he didn’t get out much, he certainly had the enthusiasm. “Fuck Joel, just like that… Just like that…” You’re sure to make sure he knows he’s doing good, you weren’t going to get wet on your own. His nose nudges along your fold as he sucks on your clit when you bend over, jacking him off. You’d love to 69 him -he deserved it- but you didn’t want him orgasming too soon, and the poor guy was already looking like he was just barely hanging on as it was. You cum in his mouth, shouting out his name as you grip his perfect cock tightly, so tight you can’t believe he didn’t spurt all over your hand but you would have forgiven him if he had with the feeling he gave you. Riding his nose and putty lower lip until you’re done taking all your pleasure. 

When you flop over on the bed, Joel is on you in a second, lips sucking in yours desperately. He needs you, you can tell, but won’t ask for it. Joel isn’t the kind to take. He’s a giver. If you asked him to eat you out again he would, and would, and would until you’re ran dry and he’d just lay there, cock hard, cleaning you up. Because that was Joel. 

But you weren’t going to do that to him. Because he deserved to know he was worthy of love, pleasure, happiness.

When you drop on top of him, encasing him in your lubed up, warm cunt. He opens you in a way you’ve never felt before, making you moan onto the stubbled jaw you were kissing, making you whimper in such a way he asked if you were okay. No one on this earth was a better man than Joel Miller.

You rode him, hands pressed against his firm pecs and stomach rubbing against his softness. All the lifting in the world wasn’t going to work his abs, and the man was living off junk and the real food Frank made for lunch. He’s soft around the edges. Joel is a whiny, moaning mess and you savor every single second of it. Breathing in his shuttered exhales, letting it be your breath of life no matter how your legs burned as you bounced. Thumbs to soft inner thighs, you gave until your heart burst.

“I love you.” You blurt out, voice shaking as you admit your feelings, perhaps too soon. You hold your breath, closing your eyes tight as your brace for rejection, or even more scary; his devotion. Upright and spearing yourself on his sweet dick, you continue your movements blindly.

Until you feel him rise up.

Joel surged towards you, wrapping your body up in one arm and gripping the back of your neck with the other hand. Chest to chest, lips to lips, body to warm, adoring body.

“I love you,” He fucks his hips up into your body, muttering against your lips and cheek. “I love you so much, Blue.” And you believe him. 

Joel comes inside after you beg him for it. One orgasm is enough for you, you generally can’t twice but Joel does have you doubting that. He fills you up, clutching your ass and shoulders to him with fingers in your skin and face buried in your neck.

*

You wake up to your landline ringing. 

“Hello?” You answer quietly, but Joel stirs anyway.

On the other side, you hear Tommy. “Hey Blue, Joel with you?”

“Yeah, everything okay?”

Joel is up, eyes wide recognizing his brother's voice. He likes the phone from you. “Tommy? You alright?”

“Jesus Joel, had me worried. Kayla called damn near every bar in town trying to get a hold of me.”

“Shit.” Joel mutters, sitting on the side of the bed. “Sarah okay?”

Tommy said he didn’t know, but Kayla had been trying to call him. Joel hung up, searching for his phone. After calling Sarah good night, it fell under the bed.

You watch him frantically call Kayla, being sure to keep quiet. You know his ex can get jealous and he doesn’t need more stress. He’s so clearly worried, and you are too. It’s 1:30 am, if Kayla is calling then something is wrong with Sarah. “Whats wrong? Where’s Sarah?”

“She won’t stop crying, Joel.” Kayla snaps at him. Is she just calling because Sarah’s crying?

Joel scrubs his face. “Kayla, did you try comforting her?”

“Of course I did, you fucking asshole” You didn’t like how she speak to Joel, and you seethed in your anger, mouth still shut. “She won’t stop screaming. You need to pick her up, I can’t fucking do this.”

Joel sighs, standing up. You begin gathering his things for him. He’s butt naked, dick swinging. “Jesus, okay, I’ll come get her. Just go hold her, okay? She gets scared at night.”

Kayla snapped at him, saying she’s aware. 

He turns to you, apologetic. “I’m so-”

“Don’t you dare fucking apoligise, cowboy.” You toss him his briefs. “Sarah comes first, always. I’d do the same if I had a kid.”

He mumbles, redressing. “She always does this. Begs and cries about never seeing her, but sends her back early. Breaks Sarah’s little heart, you know? The uncertainty. She always dressed up so cute to see her mom, always brings her best art she makes at kindergarten, picture books she can read… even pretends to like Mariah Carey when she used to make me change the station. I can’t fucking take it.”

Your heart hurts for Sarah and Joel. Your own mom and dad never got you, even before coming out as trans or gay. You just were never right in their eyes. Years later, you start to think it was more about them than it was you. Who you are now is who you were always meant to be. You are happy. They are still miserable.

“Go get your daughter, Joel.” You kiss his cheek after he pulls his boots on. “Call me in the morning, or whenever you have time.”

He pauses, stopping to wrap his arms around you, strong and safe. “I meant every single word I said, Blue. I love you.”

“I know.” And you did.

*

After speeding on the empty roads, Joel makes it in record time, parking in front of some jacked up truck and  knocking on the door. He didn’t want to ring in case Sarah fell back asleep. The door flung open to reveal and frazzled Kayla. “About time, she’s been screaming non stop!” She opened the door and Joel looked inside, not seeing her but hearing her scream frantically. Kayla was dressed in a flownsy night top and panties, makeup lightly on like she kept when she first started sleeping over at Joel’s parents.

“Where is she?” He follows the sound of her cries. She sounds absolutely batshit terrified, calling mommy, mommy, mommy. He’s unfamiliar with Kayla place. “Sarah? Where are you baby girl?”

The mommy’s switched to daddy’s with renewed vigor and Joel quickly found the room, running to it but finding the bedroom door locked. He jiggled it, hearing Sarah’s voice on the other end of sobbing for him. Something was wrong. “It’s okay, baby girl. I’m here. Daddy’s here.” He tried to sound calm but turned to Kayla, furious. “Why is the door locked.”

“Don’t raise your voice at-”

“KAYLA UNLOCK IT!”

Kayla grabbed the key from a table nearby, explaining as she unlocked it, Joel’s voice reassuring Sarah she was safe it was okay. 

“She had a nightmare, said she saw you and Tommy die on that stupid fucking farm. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up when I tried to tell her you’re-”

As soon as it was unlocked Joel burst in, dropping to his knees to scoop up his baby and soothe her. Sarah continued to cry, but relief to it.

“I’m okay, my baby. I’m okay, so is uncle Tommy. I promise.” His hands felt her shampoo or conditioner soupy residue in there. Joel told her not to wash Sarah’s hair, that it was washed the night before but she didn’t listen. Kayla never took time with washing it, rinsing it properly.

After getting the number of the last bar that Kayla found Tommy at, he got a hold of his brother when Sarah was yet to be reassured her beloved uncle was alive.

“See Sare-Bear! I’m right as rain! I even promise to make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, even if your dad says no, okay?”

Sarah niffles, still clearly shook up and visible shaking in her barbie nightie, but better. “O-okay. You promise you’re not hurt?”

“Not one bit, never been better. Want me to come home?”

“No… no…” But she didn’t sound certain.

Once Sarah was reassured, Joel scooped her up. She clung to her dad, clutching his shirt in her little hands. Joel turned to Kayla with a glare. “You locked my daughter in her room when she thought her dad and uncle were D-E-A-D?” He spelled out, making Kayla roll her eyes. 

“You cuddle her too much, you and Tommy both. She needs to learn to cry it out.”

“One, she’s 5 and had a horrible nightmare. Two, you literally called me!” Then, Joel heard a thump coming from another room and it made sense now. The truck, Kayla underwear and makeup. “Kayla. Do you have a man in the house right now?”

She looked like she was about to lie, then thought better of it. “What I do with my home is none of your business.”

He tried to keep calm, chest rising and falling in anger against Sarah, still gently sniffing. They had an agreement on this. “How long have you known this man.”

She crossed her arms defensively, “A few weeks.”

His jaw ticked. “You brought a man you barely know to sleep over while my daughter is here?” In anger, he turned around, walking to the door but Kayla shouted after him.

“Relax Joel! This ain’t even the first time! Sarah likes him, he’s nice, he-”

Whipping around, Joel took long footsteps towards Kayla, clutching Sarah who had begun crying again. Sarah knew when a fight was happening. “How long as this been going on? Do you leave her alone with him?” Then he realized… if Sarah met him, and never mentioned him… he took a deep breath. “Kayla. Did you tell my child not to tell her father about a man? Did you seriously tell her to keep a secret from me?”

Joel never ever said. “don’t tell mom.” Ever. His heart raced in fear about the potition she was put in. If Sarah didn’t think she could tell him about the man, if anything happened, she’d keep that a secret too.

“Joel, it’s not a -”

“Don’t! No more sleepovers Kayla! No more of this until you can stop doing stupid-”

Seeing the slap coming and bracing for it was the only thing keeping his face from rolling into Sarah’s head. His eyes remained closed, blurring with tears. Not of pain, but humiliation. Knowing Sarah just heard her mom hit her dad. He’d always managed to keep that shit away from her… 

“What, are you gonna cry now?” She mocked, but Joel wouldn’t have it.

“Sarah, sweetie, say goodbye to mommy. We’re going home.”

Sarah waved goodbye, but didn’t speak. Joel took her into the car and buckled her safely in, pulling a blanket over her legs in her nightie. He’d send Tommy to get the rest of her things tomorrow. Right now, he needed to get Sarah home.

Joel laid in bed with her, holding Sarah close to him on the twin bed. He tried to lull her back to sleep, but she hadn’t stopped sniffling and gently crying the whole ride back, even as Joel tried to distract her. 

“Why doesn’t mommy like me?” Sarah mumbled against Joel’s arm, her back to his chest.

“Oh baby…” He kissed her hair. “Your mommy loves you so, so much. She and I think you’re just the coolest kid ever.”

She thought on this for a while. “You know the bird I made in kindergarten? Where I glued the feathers?”

“Yes baby, I remember.”

“And the sheet where I wrote my name 5 times?”

“I remember, it looked so good.”

“I brought them… and last night I saw them in the trash.”

Joel’s eyes welled up with tear, tucking his face into her hair to hide it. “It must be an accident, Sarah. We get so many bills, it probably just got lost in the piles.”

“I put it on the fridge for her.”

“It must have fallen…” Joel hated lying to her, but… “You know, just the other day your mom called me to tell me how she’s so proud of you. How she thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the whole world and so, so smart.”

Sarah’s bedroom door cracked open, Tommy appearing.

“Hey Sare-bear” He spoke gently. “Got room for me?”

Joel scooched over and saw Sarah smiling for the first time. Daddy was comfort, but Uncle was joy. “Yes!!”

As Tommy took off his boots and jacket, Joel enlisted him to his lie. “Tommy, remember how her mom was telling us how proud she is of Sarah?” 

Tommy got the jist. “Oh yeah, she’s always talk’n ‘bout you. Can’t get her to stop, really. Says you know more about dinosaurs than anyone else on the planet.”

“Yeah! Because I saw Jurassic Park!”

Joel shot Tommy a look but let it slide. At least Tommy doesn’t tell Sarah to keep secrets. “Yup. See baby? She loves you so much.”

“Good” Sarah yawned. “Because I love mommy. I wanna be just like her when I grow up.”

The three of them fell asleep like that on the twin bed. Sarah snuggled right up in her daddy’s arms, uncle Tommy on the other end holding her little hand. 

In the morning, Tommy made them all chocolate chip pancakes.

Lets get on the fight Kayla club!!!!!

Tommy loves his neice....

Sarah is perfectly safe, I promise.

please lmk your thoughts!!!! Thanks for all the cool works with this pride event!!!

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[romanarose]

About a Girl: Chapter 8

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: For week 5 of my pride event: Struggles. Joel, Sarah, Blue, and

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

She was wearing the dress you bought her. They both were. 

Joel watched from the kitchen as Sarah and Ellie had their little tea party in the cute matching dresses you had bought them. Ellie was over for a playdate, a tea party to be exact. For Sarah’s birthday, which Joel spent much of the time wishing you were there and Sarah mentioned multiple times she missed you as well, Tommy had handmade her a table and chair set.

Since Joel kicked him out, things had been… shitty. Joel missed him a lot, even though they still saw each other almost every day at work. It was the off season so hours were reduced, but Bill and Frank never left the four of them hanging, and made sure they had some contacts for extra hours at other farms or under the table work to make up their hours. Tommy had been riding with Tess now, and it seems in his spare time Joel wasn’t privy to had been making the set in Bill's garage. Sarah was ecstatic and first thing was asking if she could have Ellie over for a tea party the next weekend. Joel confirmed with Ellie’s very uninterested foster mom, saying he could pick up and drop off when she didn’t seem enthused about bringing her over two weeks in a row. Ellie was Sarah’s best friend, and since you were gone Sarah seemed down, so Joel was going out of his way to cheer his little girl up. She deserved it. She deserves everything. She deserved to have you in her life, Joel didn’t.

The night Joel came home to Tommy doing heroin was one of the worst nights of his life. He was so scared for her, scared she’d accidentally stuck herself with the needle or wandered off into the street to get hit or kidnapped or worse…if something happened to Sarah, his life would be over. There’d be no point anymore. He put her to bed the second time, comin downstairs to an empty living room but knowing you’d be coming in soon. He was scared, embarrassed that Talia had seen all that, and worried what Sarah saw and heard. Worried how he’d explain Tommy being gone… If he’d just gone to rehab it’d be easier, but he still refused. Instead, he lived with Tess and came over sometimes because of course he did, they were still brothers… it was hard to explain why Tommy didn’t live here anymore. And it was going to be hard to explain why you were gone.

“This isn’t gonna work.”

You blinked at him, mouth agap. “Joel… come on don’t do this.”

“You don’t wanna be with me like this.” Joel shook his head.

“Baby, no…” You try to approach him, raising your arms to hold him but he held out a hand. He was still surprise that you stopped. Kayla never respected his boundaries like that. “You think I care about this? I mean- fuck I mean I care, you know I care about Sarah and Tommy but I mean… I don’t view you differently. It makes me sad Tommy is hurting like this but I don’t view him different… Joel I wanna help-”

He cut you off. “You can’t.” Joel’s face was hardened, his soft eyes looking lost. “This isn’t a good time and… I can’t have distractions.”

Joel’s heart breaks when he see’s your lower lips quiver. “Am I a distraction to you?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say you were everything, you completed him, you were apart of his little found family and he loved you so, so much… but he couldn’t. Sarah was left alone for anything to happen because Joel was with you. It wasn’t your fault. It was his.

“Yes.”

Joel was sure Ellie wouldn’t like the dress, but she was wearing it. Maybe she just didn’t get nice things as a foster child. Joel thought that was a shame. Ellie was a good kid, nice if a little rough sometimes but never malicious. Her and Sarah were playinging some game with sticks as Joel sat on the deck drinking coffee with Tommy. He watched as she got a little over zealous and THWACK, a stick across Sarah’s face. It looked worse than it was, and sure probably hurt bad, but nothing but a few cuts on her face. Joel ran down the deck to hold a screaming Sarah, not noticing Ellie disappearing when his back turned. Tommy did.

As Sarah calmed down, Tommy appeared holding Ellie’s hand. Ellie tried to run out the gate but it was locked, she just managed to take get it undone, smart kid she was, when Tommy scooped her up.

As Sarah’s sobs turned into sniffles, Joel turned to see Ellie frozen, eyes wide and body shaking.

“Hey now…” Joel said softly. “It’s alright Ellie, it was an accident. See? She ’salright.” Joel motioned to Sarah who was wiping her eyes.

“Joel.” Tommy mumbles. “I don’t think that’s what she’s worried about…”

Oh. She was scared of him. “You’re okay, Ellie. I ain’t mad, game just got a little wild, that’s all. Right Sarah? You’re okay aren’t you?”

Sarah whipped her tears, standing up. “Yeah I’m okay!” Although her voice still wobbled and her face was still wet. “Daddy can we have a snack?”

“Yeah, of course babygirl. I’ll bring your chairs and table out so you can eat out here, sound good?”

Joel and Tommy’s eyes connected. The pieces were there to conclude what they thought, but the evidence was all circumstantial. 

As Sarah and Ellie ate their snack, he noticed how quickly Ellie ate her food, asking for more. Joel decided to ask her foster mom is she could stay for dinner. He heard them talking as they ate.

“Where did you get these dresses? Did you buy them?” Ellie asked her.

“Uh-uh. Daddy’s girlfriend Blue bought them!”

“Where is she?”

Joel watched as Ellie glanced down at her food. “They broke up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I miss her. My mommy is gone too.”

“Did she die?”

“No, she and my daddy broke up too.”

“Your dad breaks up a lot. He shouldn’t be so picky, he’s too old.”

Joel couldn't help smile at that. Ellie didn’t have a filter. It wasn’t that he being picky; it wasn’t about you. You were perfect. Joel pictured himself marrying you, having a life with you. You were perfect. He was wrong. Everything about Joel’s life was chaos and it wasn’t fair to you or Sarah or Tommy to split his attention even more. And now, it seemed, he was taking on a lot of responsibility for Ellie too. It was just too much. 

Joel turned on the TV while he cooked dinner, Ellie and Sarah playing upstairs.

“Grunge pioneer and Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain found dead in his apartment today, thought to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

Joel dropped the spoon into his spagetti sauce. “Shit.” He murmured, trying to fish it out with a spatula. Nirvana was your favorite, you idolized Kurt Cobain. He knew more about the beef between him and Guns “N Roses or Nirvana and Pearl Jam than he ever thought he would; he didn’t even know who Nirvana or Pearl Jam were before you, honestly.  He loved hearing your passion, even if it was all so new to him, an he loved when you showed him new songs, but nothing got your mouth going like Nirvana did; the absolute excited way you talked about their music made your eyes light up and you’d bounce in your seat, joyful and enthusiastic, a love for life Joel admired. 

He loved how someone who’d been through so much could be so… happy. It gave him hope. From life as a depressed, addicted “gay man” couch surfing and sometimes homeless, to a school teacher, happy and loving and stable as a woman. Before you, he only vaguely knew what being trans was. No one really talked about it except occasionally some article or an episode of TV. Joel didn’t think much about it, but he knew what others thought. Many said it was a sin, or unnatural, or that it was body mutilation… Some said things like they would regret it, that it was a mental illness… Joel didn’t know much about mental illness, if he was being honest. He knew it was considered a mental illness by the big book psychiatrists use… but he always knew until the 70’s being gay was considered one too, and Joel didn’t think Tess, Bill and Frank were mentally ill. Well, Bill was a conspiracy theorist and a little cooky at times, but his head was on straight. Joel didn’t really care what anyone said. You were living and looking the way you wanted to  save your life, and Joel was glad you were alive, even if you weren't a part of his world.

After serving up his girls, a heaping serving for Ellie to make up for what she’s not getting at ‘home’, Joel leaned against the counter, spooning the left over right into his mouth. One less dish to clean. He liked Ellie, he thought as he ate, even if she was a bit of a pain in the ass. She was spirited in a way Sarah wasn’t, but a good kid. She also liked baseball, and would watch with him sometimes before Sarah dragged her away.

He heard the doorbell, and Sarah ran up shouting “I’ll get it!!!” and as Joel walked over to the door still chewing a big mouthful of spaghetti, she informed him it was Aunt Tess.

“Hey Tess,” Joel swallowed his food, “Sorry, I can’t have anyone other than Tommy over, Ellie’s over for a playdate.”

Tess didn’t look like herself, sollem and worried face mareing her expressions. “Joel… something happened with Blue…”

His heart dropped. “Is it the Kurt Cobain thing? Is she okay? I know thats probably really upset-” 

She cut him off, hand raised but not rudely. “No, Joel I- jesus… Tommy say anything to you?”

Joel furrowed his brow. What did he do now? “No… he get into trouble again?”

“No… he was pretty out of it the other night but… him and me with with Max. Joel, I swear, he said he dumped Kayla.”

Taking a deep breath, Joel cringed at her name. “Y’all can do whatever you want, it’s none of my business.” But it still hurt, just a little, even if it was irrational. 

Tess scrubbed her face. “Joel, it’s bad, it’s so bad. Tommy got drunk, and he started talk’n, and you know how he gets… well Max was talkn ‘bout Kayla and her beef with Blue and I swear, no one was talk’n bad about her, Tommy was say’n how much he likes her, and I don’t even know how it came out but Tommy mentioned her being trans-”

“Shit- To Max? Tess, you know how he is!” Joel turned into the house, bellowing. “TOMMY!”

“I know! I know, okay but listen…” She shifted her feet. “I guess he wasn’t done with Kayla…” Tess’s face looked wracked with guilt, biting her lip and struggling to get out the story.

It was bad.

*

Joel dropped Ellie off with her foster mom, sending her with some fruit snacks. Not trusting Tommy with Sarah alone yet, Joel left her with Tommy and Tess; Talia answered Blue’s door.

“Joel.” She sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “This isn’t a good time. You know I love yuh, but she don’t need this right now.”

Joel shuffled, placing his hands in his pockets. “I’m- fuck, I’m sorry I just… I wanted to check on ‘er…” 

Talia’s face softens, her body language relaxing. “I know… and I’m sorry. Maybe come by in a few days, I’ll let her know you stopped by, but she said she didn’t wanna see anyone-”

“Talia? Is that Joel?”

Signing at the voice of her best friend, she turned around. “Yeah babe, I told him to come by in a day or two.”

The sound of you sitting up made his heart leap. The idea of seeing you after months was exciting and nerve racking. 

Acquiescing, Talia opened the door to your apartment where Joel saw you. You were still in your PJ’s, hair a mess, your eyes bloodshot and puffy. You were still the prettiest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

“Hey.” Nirvana played in the background. Something in the Way.

“Hey…” You lip quivers, and Joel runs over to you with no hesitation, scooping you into his strong, farm-worked arms and keeping you close to him as you cried. Your body wracks in heaves and sobs, and Joel knew something was very wrong, his heart aching for you, hoping so badly you were going to be okay. He never wanted to stop hugging you. When you’re crying slowed, Joel still held your body. Talia offered to go get some food, trusting Joel to watch you while she was gone and giving you both time to talk. When you finally lifted your head off his soft flannel, Joel guided you to sit on the couch.

“I’ve missed you so much…” You sniffled, not looking at him. “As soon as I heard about Kurt Cobain, I just wanted to call you…”

“You could’ve…” He reassured you. “I know how much he meant to you… I don’t want you to have to go through things alone, Blue…”

You shake your head. “I don’t. I got Talia, I always got Talia… and Tess and Tommy…” 

Joel didn’t know Tommy was hanging out with you. “I know… I just…” He sighs. “I still wanna be there for you, you know? And with what happened…”

You groan, flopping back on the couch dramatically. “I can’t fucking beleive it. Years, i was here for years completely fine! Then this shit happens!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Joel, don’t-”

“But I am! I’m sorry, this is because of me.”

“No, this is because Kayla is a bitch. Sorry Joel, I know you don’t like us talk’n bad about her but she is!”

His voice was soft and gentle. “I think you earned the right to call her that, Blue.”

He hears you huff a sardonic laugh. “So have you.” You scrub your face. “Three years with this school, not so much as a talking to, no bad performance reviews… Not even a parent complaint.” You pop your head up. “Parents will complain about everything! But not me!” Back down. “All down the drain.”

Apparently, Max wasn’t done with Kayla. This didn’t surprise Joel; Kayla wanted Max to get to him, and Max was stupid. Of course he was still cheating with her. Kayla was, obviously, beautiful. That’s just a fact. After finding out Blue was trans, he scampered off to Kayla like a little rat and told her. Kayla, in turn, outted Blue to the entire school.

“Can’t you sue for wrongful termination? I mean, they can’t fire you for being trans.”

“Nope” You popped the P. “But they fired me on grounds of poor work performance which is bullshit. Texas is a will to work state, which means they can basically fire me for anything except being a protected class, so they just make something up. Texs has ass workers rights, I don’t got a leg to stand on.” He watched as your eyes welled up with tears. “Parents who always said their children adored me complained I was a predator and was grooming their children… One called me a satanist, which is wild.”

Joel chuckled a little at that, but only because you had a smile at the corner of your mouth. “I’m sorry this is happening, Blue… you’re a great teacher and they are fucking missing out.”

“I know, thank you. Being good right won’t pay my bills, though.” You’d be moving in with Tess, Talia, and Tommy, making for a full house. Joel wanted to bring Tommy home, he really fucking did… Tess and Talia woud have a full house once Blue was there, Sarah missed him… and fuck, Joel missed him. A lot. But Tommy refused to get help, and although he said he was clean, he’d said it before. He couldn’t risk Sarah’s safety like that. Honestly, he wasn’t sure Tommy even wanted to come back with the way Joel had talked to him sometimes. 

You rested your feet on his blue jeans. “I’m glad you’re here, cowboy.”

Joel just can't stay away.

Two chapters left! One more seeing how things come back together for Joel, Blue, Sarah, Ellie, Tess and Talia

then, the finally where everyone is happy for the finale of pride event!!!!

I went to pride today (before and after being The Bikeriders AGAIN)

Before, I cried a little a free mom hugs

then i cried at The Bikerriders

then!! After bikeriders I went back to check out everything fully with more time and ended up breaking down sobbing at the free mom/dad hugs tent. It was so much a lady from anothr tent hugged me too ;-;

i love my mom but she'd never fully accept me.

Anyway, love y'all!!!! You are loved just the way you are! You are sacred!

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