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joelmillerspillowprincess · 10 days ago

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she’s an angel | joel miller x f! reader

pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 9.8k warnings etc: (NO OUTBREAK) smut, age gap (20s/50s), dubcon, semi-public sex, degradation (joel calls reader a slut), hints of mean!joel, brief daddy kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, creampie, use of a gag, pussy slap, reader has hair and wears make up, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, pet names, alcohol, reader's family celebrates halloween, allusions to past parental trauma. no use of y/n.

this is my first posted fanfiction. it's only right it debuts on halloween. happy halloweeny!

It's cooler than it should be.

The end of October has brought with it a chill you don't recall from your years growing up in Texas. Or maybe it's just been too long since you've been home.

You stare yourself down the mirror of your vanity. The light blue wood of it is faded with time, sticky drawers barren save for the remnants of memories from days gone by; letters from now-dead grandparents, Polaroids with now-lost friends, empty tubes of now-out-of-fashion lipstick shades.

Everything around your reflection is the same as it was when you'd left this place five years ago, a frame of youthful innocence. The person staring back at you, however, is anything but innocent, even if she is donning the wings of an angel.

No. Surrounded by the leftovers from your childhood, the angel in the mirror is all woman.

And she looks good.

A white, boned corset hugs the curves of your upper body, pushing your tits up high on your chest and accentuating the slopes of your waist. The strapless sweetheart neckline shows off your collarbones deliciously, the long line of your neck accented by a thin, white choker. A flowing satin skirt fans out over your hips, cutting off at the midpoint of your thigh, just a hint of skin showing between the hem and the lace edge of your white thigh-high stockings.

You adjust the ribbony straps that hold the feathered, white wings in place over your shoulders, fan your hair out and tousle it slightly, testing out your very best smile before letting it fall, satisfied.

You debate whether or not to even wear the stupid mask. Gaudy and ornate, you have to admit it matches the rest of your costume beautifully, with silver gems glued to one side and a sheer, white veil that you know will conceal most of your face. Perfect for the masquerade bar crawl your high school friends are dragging you to later this evening. A bit much for your father's annual Halloween Bash you feel obligated to attend first.

Resignedly, you slip it on - practice that smile again. It's the only part of your face still visible.

Just one piece remains, sitting on the vanity, white and dainty and looking up at you somewhat menacingly. You slip the garter over your leg and wedge it high up on your thigh, concealed under the flouncy fabric of your skirt like a secret.

You take one last look at the obnoxious cleavage spilling out over the edge of the corset and decide, at least for now, to opt for modesty. You carefully remove your wings and follow the scent of naphthalene to your closet, fish out an old cardigan and throw it over your exposed shoulders. A relic from another life, it's a few sizes too small, fuzzy and a shade of ivory that doesn't quite match the perfect white of the skirt. The sleeves hit just below your elbows and the fabric clings a little too tightly to your form but it's better than the alternative.

Pearlescent buttons line its front, and you seal them right to the top, so only a hairsbreadth of flesh is poking out below the silver cross at the centre of the choker.

Better.

You slip your wings back over your arms, smooth out the straps and finally leave the woman in the mirror behind.

Creep it real!

The words line the banner that hangs above your father's front door, just one of many cheesy puns and hokey decorations that litter the main floor of his home.

It's too fucking much. It's always too fucking much. Your dad's favourite holiday for as long as you can remember, Halloween is always a bit of a production.

You help string cotton cobwebs from the ceilings and stick cartoonish bats to the wood-panelled walls. Your mother, dressed as the perfect Bride of Frankenstein, makes punch and fills bowls with chips and candy while your father, dressed as her perfect monster, puts the finishing touches on the lawn display, all gravestones and skeletons and intricately carved jack-o-lanterns. You watch him through the front window with a dubious smile as he gets the smoke machine going. Easily his most prized possession, it had been a lucky find at a yard sale from a neighbour who'd once worked in set direction.

It's funny how, after all these years, your parents haven't changed a bit. It's also funny how seemingly easy it is for them to pretend you hadn't left on bad terms.

"Thanks for helping out, kiddo," your dad's saying as he makes his way back inside, snatching a black plastic spider from your hand and reaching up over your head to the corner of the window pane, lodging it into place in a tangle of cotton. "Nice to have you home."

You give him your best smile, that one you'd practiced so much it probably looks as phony as it feels.

"It's nice to be back," you tell him even though it's a lie. "Thanks for putting me up."

He frowns. "We're not putting you up; this is your home."

It's a nice sentiment but it's not really true. This hasn't been your home in years and you've been more than content to keep it that way. Even now, you've got no plans to stay beyond this weekend, already bored and tired of the life you'd left behind.

"I know it is, Dad, sorry," you amend for his benefit.

"You're a good sport stickin' around for the party, too," he adds.

"Sure," you shrug, although you're selfishly much more interested in getting to the bar and finding someone who will hopefully make it so you don't have to spend the night at your parent's house.

"I think some folks'll be surprised to see you," he goes on. "Dropped in so last minute, I didn't get the chance to tell anyone you'd be home."

Yeah - you know. It had been a somewhat intentional move on your part, knowing all too well how your parents would make a thing out of your return. Plus, you hadn't really planned to be here, either; the timing had just worked out as you'd happened to be passing through the Austin for work. It had felt almost wrong not to stop in for a few days. Try to put appearances and make nice.

"It's fine, I probably won't hang out too long anyway." Best not to get his hopes up.

He grins warmly, tells you to stay as long as you want, and then your conversation is abruptly cut off by your mother blasting 'Monster Mash' through the living room speakers.

Twilight fades into dusk fades into night and the party is in full swing.

The sound of music and a cacophony of voices fills the air, clinking beer bottles and thrumming bass echoing loudly in your ears where you stand against a wall, mostly keeping to yourself unless otherwise spoken to. The living room is dimly lit by a superfluous display of electronic tea lights, casting an orange glow over the crowd of faces that you assume would be familiar if they weren't obscured by smatterings of fake blood, glitter and silicone.

One figure stands out among the throng though, perhaps because he doesn't seem to have put much effort into his costume at all. The dark plaid that stretches across the expanse of his back unleashes a flood of memories (or more accurately, a distant collage of schoolgirl fantasies). You recognize him beyond a doubt, even before he turns to the side and reveals that unmistakable hooked nose and strong jaw, patchy facial hair that's a little greyer now than it was when you used to daydream about how it would feel brushing against your cheek.

Joel Miller.

Your father's oldest friend from down the road, he's broader than you remember him, thicker in the arms and midsection, the latter especially noticeable in the way his belly strains over the waistband of his jeans, confined by plaid tucked into well-worn denim, all accented by an ostentatious belt buckle. His face is partially cast in shadow by the off-white cowboy hat he's wearing, the ensemble capped off by a faded red bandana tied clumsily around his wide neck.

And fuck, if it doesn't suit him. There's something almost natural about the way he tips his hat at passing partygoers, the way he leans against the wall opposite you and hooks a thumb over the massive belt buckle, the engraved metal shining faintly in the low light. Gripping the neck of a beer bottle with his other hand, he's a man plucked straight from a Marlboro ad, even more beautiful now than the last time you saw him - years ago now.

Your heart nearly stops when his eyes suddenly flit upwards and catch yours across the room. He smirks, a lop-sided, curious thing and it's only then you realize you're fucking staring.

You avert your eyes, scan the crowd without seeing anything, only to land your gaze on him again. He hasn't looked away. You stiffen where you stand, hold his stare for a second too long. You swallow harshly and his smile widens.

Christ, you need a drink. Your heart's pounding as if there's anything more to that smile than an old family friend politely recognizing his best friend's daughter.

But then his eyes rake over your front, not-so-subtly fixating on the skin above your stockings. He tilts his head to the side, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he were assessing you. Even from here, under the low glow of synthetic candlelight, you see a muscle in his jaw click, plush lips pursing as his dark eyes trail back up your chest, landing on your masked face before he brings his beer bottle back up to his mouth and takes a long pull. His eyes don't leave your face.

Okay, maybe you're not imagining it. Sweet, reserved, respectful Joel (a single dad if your memory serves) is definitely eye-fucking you from across the room right now. In your father's home. Like he doesn't care at all that he once knew you as a child.

You resist the urge to pinch yourself.

Instead, you decide to test the waters. Bite your lip and flit your gaze to his mouth, watch him as you turn towards the kitchen and catch the moment he decides to follow.

Not imagining it.

It's lighter in the kitchen, the sound of the party dulled but not entirely silenced beyond the wall. Safer, private.

You feign nonchalance, crouching to retrieve a beer from the fridge, blissfully aware that the boots you hear against the linoleum a moment later belong to Joel without needing to look up and see for yourself.

Sure enough -

"S'a nice costume," a gruff says from behind you. You jolt upright, beer in hand, to face the source of the sound. And there's the Marlboro man in all his glory, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a playful glint in his eye and a devilish smile plastered to his face.

You grin, cheeks warming at the way he looks you over in the light of the kitchen, so much brighter here than in the living room, staring at your chest as though he could see right through the thin fabric of your cardigan.

You work to play it cool, even as your skin burns under the weight of his stare.

"You think?"

You twist to the side, giving him a better view of the entire ensemble, wings and all. You figure there's no need for subtly at this point; wrong or right, the way he's looking at you now tells you he hasn't just followed you into the kitchen for a quick hello.

"Yeah, I do," he says, inching further into the room. "Go on, let me see all of it."

Jesus. Joel's apparently given up on subtly too. You suppose it could be interpreted as harmless. But then you spin for him, all the way around so the soft fabric of your skirt flutters around your thighs. You come to a stop facing him, watch his smile fade to something darker when you daringly lift the hem of your skirt to reveal the garter with a smirk.

And if there was going to be a moment for him to decide that you'd taken things too far, that would be it. But he doesn't. Instead, he stalks even closer, eyes fixed on the edge of your skirt, almost entranced in the way he shakes his head.

"So fuckin' sexy," he marvels quietly.

"Oh my god."

The words escape you almost like a laugh because there's just no fucking way. Every fantasy you've ever had is being brought to life before your eyes. A moment imagined in a thousand different ways. Joel Miller finally seeing you as an object of desire. Joel Miller undeniably wanting you.

He instantly flushes at your reaction, setting his empty beer bottle down on the counter and removing his hat to run a nervous hand through his hair. And it's the first sign you see of the Joel you think you know - polite, charming. Disarmingly good-mannered.

"Sorry, comin' on a bit strong, I guess," he chuckles. He holds his hat to his chest and reaches his other hand between your bodies. You stare at it in confusion. "I'm Joel. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Oh."

Another involuntary reaction, whispered and soft as realization smooths across your features.

No wonder he's being so callous with his advances; Joel doesn't know who you fucking are.

Faced with a dilemma, you very quickly work through your options. You know what you should do, what the morally right decision is. You should be honest, tell him your name, remove your mask. Watch him grapple with embarrassment and politely leave you to it. You can't imagine he'd carry on with you if he had any idea you were his friend's daughter.

But then again...he already wants you. Right? And you wholeheartedly want him. So what if he doesn't know who you are? Maybe part of you likes it that way. You're not the same person you were the last time he saw you anyway.

You will tell him the truth, you decide. Just...not yet.

You take his hand in yours and shake.

"Tonight, cowboy, you can just call me Angel."

Joel grins, cocks his eyebrows and chuckles. "Oh yeah?"

You don't get a chance to respond because then he's bringing your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles and the words die on your tongue, your mind temporarily going blank at the feeling of his scruff scratching at the back of your hand and his dark gaze peering up at you from under his lashes.

"Alright, then Angel."

No. You're definitely not telling him the truth yet.

He lets your hand fall and puts his hat back on before leaning an elbow casually against the kitchen counter. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, revealing thick forearms and tan skin. Unconsciously, you gravitate closer.

"S'quite the party, huh?" he grins, cocking his chin in the direction of the music and orange light emanating from just around the corner.

You shrug. "It's fine. I'm not staying long. Going out to a club soon."

You don't miss the way his smiles falters just the slightest bit.

"You live in the neighbourhood?" he asks. "Don't think I've seen ya around before."

"Haven't you?"

"Woulda remembered, I reckon."

You have to bite back a laugh at that.

"Well, I used to live around here, but I moved away a few years back," you shrug. It's technically not a lie.

"But you're back in town," he says. States it. Not a question.

"For now."

Joel smirks, drags his eyes over you again, contemplative. Still, no sign of recognition passes over his features, only unbridled interest that makes your cheeks burn and your mouth water.

"What made you leave?" he wonders after a moment of charged silence, his wandering gaze finally landing on the one part of your face he can see.

Now there's a loaded question. Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead as you consider how best to answer him, attempting to bide yourself some time as you ease your body closer to his with a pointed sway of your hips.

"You know, I don't really like to think about the past," you land on and right now it couldn't be more true.

Joel chuckles, brows knitting together somewhat dubiously at the response. Thankfully, he doesn't push it.

"What are you drinkin', Angel?" he asks, his eyes darting down to the beer bottle in your hand.

"Oh - beer," you tell him. "You want one?"

"Won't say no to ya," he smiles.

You turn back to the fridge, bending at the hip rather than crouching this time, fully aware of the view you're offering him. If he reacts, you don't hear it, but when you face him again, beer in hand, his arms are crossed over his chest and his cheeks are painted a faint shade of pink.

Good.

You extend one of the bottles out to him, eyes fixed on the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. His fingers ghost against yours when he takes the bottle from your hand and it shoots an electric tingle down your spine.

"Bottle opener's in there," you tell him, nodding towards the drawer he's currently leaning against. He follows your gaze and seems to consider moving for a moment. Then he grins.

"I got it," he says, placing his own bottle on the counter. Your brows furrow and then your jaw drops as Joel then begins to fiddle with his belt buckle, undoing the notches so it hangs loose around his waist.

Your pulse quickens and you nervously look over your shoulder, suddenly terrified of someone walking in on you.

"S'alright," Joel assures you, redrawing your attention. When you turn back to him you he's holding a hand out to you. "Let me see."

He nods towards the bottle and you silently hand it to him, entranced. Then you watch as he deftly hooks the edge of the silver buckle under the lip of the bottle cap. He flicks his wrist upwards and with a sizzling pop, the cap goes flying, landing with a quiet clang onto the tiled floor.

"Wow," you murmur, genuinely impressed and suddenly unable to tear your eyes away from his fucking crotch.

Joel seems to notice the response, taking you by surprise as he places the bottle on the counter and wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you into him. Your bodies don't touch but you can feel the heat radiating off him from here, the static buzz that fills the remaining space between you.

"Old party trick," he jokes, voice low.

You find yourself peering towards the kitchen door again. Joel notices that too.

"Hey," he murmurs, catching a finger on your chin to turn your face back in his direction. You swallow against the nerves suddenly bubbling up in your throat.

"S'this alright?" he asks as he traces his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You nod.

"Yeah," you decide, throwing caution to the wind and pressing your hips forward till you feel the hard metal of his loosened belt buckle jutting into your stomach.

He hums, a sound deep in his chest, and it's all you can do just to stand there as he curiously runs his fingers over your shoulder, smirking as he fiddles with the feathers of your wings and inspects the costume up close, dark brown eyes scaling hungrily up and down your body. His hand moves downward then, over the fabric of your cardigan, thinly veiling the bones of the corset beneath and you wonder if he can feel them, if he knows what you're hiding when he rests his palm against your waist and pulls you in just that little bit closer.

His gaze lands on your parted lips and there's a moment of heated anticipation where you're certain he's going to kiss you, the smell of him so close and inviting.

"No halo?" he whispers instead, cocking his eyebrows and lifting his gaze to the top of your head. "Shouldn't a good little angel have a halo?"

Oh, fuck.

"Well, maybe I'm not such a good little angel," you purr, only the hint of a shake in your voice as you widen your eyes and bat your lashes for good measure. You swear you hear his breath stutter before he's shaking his head in near-disbelief. You smirk; it's exactly the reaction you'd been hoping for.

"Anyway, the halo felt like overkill," you shrug.

Joel scoffs, glancing down to grab at the fabric of your skirt. Your brain short-circuits as he hikes it up your leg, revealing the white lace garter sat high on your thigh.

"And this?" he questions darkly. "You're tellin' me this ain't overkill?"

You laugh even though it's not funny, even though arousal is steadily pooling at your core and coursing through your burning veins.

"Well, at least I put some effort in," you attempt to tease him lightly, answering the unrelenting grip he has on your skirt with a tug at the fabric of his shirt, fisting the plaid at his sides and trying not to think too hard about the fact that it's first time you've ever touched Joel Miller like this. That you're only here because of a shameful lie. "Bet you just had all this lying around the house, right, cowboy?"

Joel's lips twitch and he watches in wonder as you reach up and grab the cowboy hat off his head, planting it atop yours with a wink. Joel snakes a hand behind you to tip the rim back, showing him more of your masked face as you stare up at him expectantly.

"Now that's pretty," he marvels softly and then he's entwining a hand around the back of your neck and leaning in closer and there's no mistaking it now; he's going to kiss you and you want so badly to kiss him back but -

"Not here," you stop him with a firm hand on his chest. You don't know what the fuck you're doing, but it can't happen in your parent's kitchen. You give him his hat back and he groans as he yanks you in closer when you try to pull back.

"What exactly are we doin', honey?"

"Just come with me?" you suggest breathlessly, untangling yourself from his grasp and grabbing him by the hand. He doesn't argue, just nods and lets you lead him out of the kitchen. You cautiously watch your back, make sure no one sees you dragging Joel Miller up the carpeted stairs and into the concealed darkness of a second-floor hallway.

There's a beat as you size each other up, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Then Joel is crowding you against the wall, his gaze flitting over your masked face curiously.

You know in that moment the question he's asking. And you know in that moment what your answer should be. Take off the mask. Tell him the truth. Watch him walk away.

But instead, you hook your fingers into his belt loops and tug him into your body, crane your neck upwards and whisper, "Kiss me," praying to the heavens above you'll be forgiven for this.

You'll tell him. You'll tell him.

But right now you just want to kiss him.

Joel exhales sharply, hums a quiet assertion and then he's crashing his mouth into yours. Your head hits the glass of a framed photo behind you, a sting quickly remedied by the feel of his lips moving on yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face with a tenderness you wouldn't have expected.

His kiss is far from tender though, and for that, you're grateful. It's rushed and breathy, toothsome when his tongue invades the space between your lips. He tastes like beer and mint, and the masculine scent of his skin takes up the air around you as his broad frame encages you against the drywall. Your mind goes blank with the headiness of it, the coarse drag of his moustache along your skin soothed by the plush softness of his lips. Dreams of how that aquiline nose would feel bumping into yours, material at last.

His hands move lower then, traversing the line of your body, making you moan into his mouth while his touch ignites a fire inside you. You don't think, just impatiently begin to unbutton the pearly confines of your cardigan to reveal the corset beneath.

Joel breaks the kiss to glance down at your exposed chest and groan, his upper lip curling at the sight. His hands hover over the scratchy fabric, fingers twitching with another endearing flash of uncertainty. You stamp it out with an overly-confident graze of your palm over the bulge in his jeans, grinning when it makes his breath hitch, when you realize with a sick sense of triumph that Joel Miller is hard for you.

"Shit," he curses softly as he watches your hand work over him and you feel his cock come alive under your touch.

"Touch me, Joel," you quietly plead when his eyes finally find yours again.

He shakes his head.

"Wanna see you," he insists breathlessly, reaching up to toy with the edges of your mask.

You let your hand fall from his cock to swat his fingers away. Joel frowns.

"Where's the fun in that?" you ask innocently.

"Well," Joel hums, ducking forward to press his lips into the space below your ear. "I usually like knowin' who it is I'm about to ruin."

An involuntary shiver courses through you and when you speak, it's with a shake.

"You want to ruin me?"

His low chuckle echoes into the hollow of your ear while his teeth graze gently over the lobe. "Ain't that what you want, Angel?"

Oh, god. Fuck it then. It's now or never.

In a flash of movement, you tear the mask off your face and quickly clutch at Joel's curls, pulling him back into a bruising kiss before he can properly take you in. You take charge as best you can, languidly licking into his mouth and pressing your hips forward till they collide with his. Joel's response is swift, his arms wrapping around you and holding you prisoner against his body while his tongue begins to dance messily with yours.

And fuck, it's perfect. Your hips grinding against his is an almost unconscious thing, pure hunger taking over every other emotion until you feel it.

The way his body goes rigid and his lips still on yours.

Then the sudden, quiet grunt of protest against your mouth that has your eyes flashing open in response. It takes your brain a second to catch up, to notice that he's not looking at you but rather something right behind you.

Only then he does look at you and at last you see it click.

"Fuck - wait," Joel gasps, prying your mouths apart and pushing himself off you with two firm hands on your shoulders. Pathetically, your lips chase after his.

"Joel - " you whine, attempting to yank him back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. But those firm hands encircle your wrists and tear you away, forcing space between your bodies.

"You..." Joel shakes his head, glancing between you and whatever he's seeing behind you, his expression some mixture of shock and outrage. You peer over your shoulder and finally understand; your high school graduation photo is tacked on the wall beside your head, the beatific smile of a younger, more-optimistic you staring you both down in the quiet darkness of the hallway.

You sigh exasperatedly. "Joel, it's okay. It's fine."

"It ain't - " Joel scoffs lightly and drops your wrists, steps back out of reach. A painful knot of rejection curls in your stomach, made worse by the burning heat of guilt over your stupid, stupid lie. "It ain't fine."

"Joel, please, you wanted me just a second ago," you whisper and you hate that it sounds so broken, so needy. Your words seem to affect him though, his features softening into something almost pained. "Please, I-I'm not some little girl anymore."

His jaw tightens, conflict etching the weathered lines of his face. "I don't think that's how your old man would see it."

"You think I give a fuck what he thinks?" you demand, stepping forward. He doesn't touch you, but he doesn't move either. You sigh.

"You asked why I left town."

Joel frowns. "Yeah?"

"It's because of him, Joel. Both of them," you nod in the general direction of the stairs, to the place where music is thrumming and your parents are obliviously mingling. "I mean, we - we hardly even speak. You have no idea what they put me through."

Joel's eyes stay fixed on the stairs, to the light of the party shining up from below. You see it clear as day - that part of him telling him to run as fast as he can from this. But he doesn't. So you go on.

"They don't know me, Joel," you insist, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his wrist. He turns back to face you and that pained look is back in his eyes. But he's drifting closer to you, hands stretching out in front of him like he wants so badly to touch you.

"You don't know me either," you breathe and at that, Joel scoffs. The pained look on his face gives way to something else and there's a shift behind his eyes as he frees his wrist from your grasp to press his hand into the wall beside your head.

"Actually, I think I do, little girl," he spits, leaning in close, the change in atmosphere taking you aback as your heart pounds violently in your ears. "You think I didn't hear it all from him? All your sneakin' around and actin' out? Runnin' away at eighteen? I know you."

"Who did you think I was running away from?" you bite back, petulant.

Joel shakes his head and chews on the inside of his lip, but you can see it, see the way his resolve is fading before your eyes.

"You're just - you're just a kid. He's my best friend."

You scoff.

"I hate him, Joel."

His eyes narrow and the sound of your pulse in your ears is almost deafening as Joel takes up all the space around you, something darker taking over his gaze, something menacing and delicious and promising.

"You know, that really ain't no way to talk about your daddy," he snarls.

You should flinch away from that tone, shrink and recoil from its threatening edge, its condescension. Instead, you gravitate towards it like a magnet, something warm and achy pulsing between your legs at his words.

"Maybe you need a little discipline," Joel grits out, grabbing roughly at your waistline, other hand still braced against the wall beside you.

And - oh. That really shouldn't turn you on as much as it does. Petulance quickly fades and you find yourself nodding frantically, overwhelmed as arousal swiftly burns through you, when you realize what you're on the precipice of.

"Maybe, I do," you breathe, crashing your pelvis forward into his and craning your neck up higher so your mouths are only an inch apart. Joel doesn't back away anymore. "Are you going to put me in my place, Joel?"

At that, his head falls forward and he's whispering, Goddamnit but it's too fucking late now.

Because his strong hands are clutching at your face as he presses his body weight into yours and he kisses you again, hungrier now and decidedly rougher. You whimper as his mouth moulds into yours, his hands moving to draw the silken fabric of your skirt up your thigh. His knee invades the space between your legs and forces them apart, while his lips greedily begin to trail below your jaw, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin of your neck. You curl your leg up over his waist and pull his body in closer, grind your clothed heat into the strong muscle of his thigh and hear him groan into your skin.

You claw at his back, clutching him to you as he plunges a hand between your thighs and cups your sex through your panties. The lacy fabric, wet with your arousal, scratches dizzyingly against your folds and your head falls back into the wall with a strangled sigh.

"This what you want?" he coaxes, strumming at your clit over your underwear.

"Yes - yes, Joel."

He bites down on your clavicle, pressing harder against your pussy, the tips of his thick fingers moving lower to brush your clothed entrance and cloud whatever is left of your judgment as you melt into his touch.

"Beg for it," he growls, taking you by surprise yet again. His free hand grabs you firmly by the jaw, and when his eyes find yours, there's a desperation burning in his blown-out browns, the lewdness of his request dulled by the impression you suddenly get that he needs to hear you tell him you want it. "Beg."

You don't deny him.

"Please, Joel," you plead pathetically, wriggling on his fingers and clutching desperately at fistfuls of plaid. "Please don't stop. I want this. I want you."

"Yeah?"

In lieu of an answer, you very quickly make a decision. Perhaps the stupidest of your life.

You bite your lip and unravel yourself from his embrace, tugging him hurriedly down the hall to your bedroom before you can think any better of it.

You pounce on him the second the door is locked behind you, throwing your arms around his wide neck and knocking his hat to the floor as you kiss him with newfound fervour.

"What're you doin'?" he demands but his hands are warm at the small of your back, holding you close.

"I said I want you," you repeat, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Joel swats your hands away, tearing his mouth from yours abruptly.

"Here?"

He glances around the room, seemingly well aware you've led him directly into your childhood bedroom, eyes raking over the juvenile details that remain here; flouncy wallpaper and patterned bed sheets, *NSYNC posters and a corner full of discarded stuffed animals.

You palm at his cheek to redraw his attention, marvelling at the feel of his scruff beneath your fingers.

"Here," you assert.

Joel sighs, long and ragged, almost tortured as he quietly curses under his breath. You stare back at him dolefully, daringly ducking forward to kiss the corner of his mouth and run your fingers through his greying curls.

"Fuckin' Christ," he snarls.

All hesitance fades as his fingers coil firmly around your wrists, pinning them to your sides and guiding you into the room till your lower back hits the edge of your vanity.

"Angel, my ass," he grits, big hands meandering below the hem of your skirt, stealing your breath as he hooks his fingers under the lace edge of your panties. "You're a bad fuckin' girl, aren't you?"

You barely manage a soft, "Mhmm," before he's shimmying your underwear down your legs, taking care not to disrupt the garter around your thigh. He encourages you up onto the vanity, trinkets and make-up and perfume bottles clattering underneath you as you spread your legs for him and wrap them around his waist.

"Wanna taste you," he whispers urgently, like he's afraid he'll change his mind. You shudder as he ghosts his lips down your chest, laying open-mouthed kisses over the exposed skin above your breasts.

"Oh fuck," you whine as Joel falls to his knees between your legs and pushes your thighs further apart, making space for those broad shoulders. He positions your left leg over his shoulder and hooks his arms beneath your knees, dull fingernails digging into tender flesh. "Please."

"Shut up," he growls as his teeth come down on the skin of your inner thigh, chastising. And you know he's right, know you have to find the will to stay quiet. You curl your bottom lip between your teeth and let your head fall into the mirror behind you while Joel hungrily kisses his way closer to the apex of your thighs, groaning when he tastes the sticky slick that's already begun to coat the skin there.

You're throbbing - aching - for him to touch where you need it most and Joel doesn't tease you for long.

"Pretty fuckin' cunt," you hear him say and then his tongue is swiftly licking through the seam of your folds, sending an electric shock through every nerve in your body. Your mouth falls open in a gasp but Joel doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath, closing his lips around your clit and sucking harshly before pulling back with a lewd smack.

Your fingers are in his hair then, desperate to force him back onto you. Joel chuckles, glancing up at you with pink cheeks and wet lips.

"When's the last time someone ate your pussy, sweetheart?"

Too fucking long, you want to say but your brain can't form the words so instead you just whine and furiously shake your head from side to side.

"Oh, she's a needy thing, ain't she?" Joel murmurs darkly, eyes glinting with lust. "Been that long, huh?"

Now you nod, biting down harder on your lip to stop yourself from begging. Though Joel seems determined to make you.

"Poor little pussy," Joel says, making you shudder as he frees one of your legs from his grasp to press two fingers against your folds. He caresses you, languid swipes over your aching hole and your puffy clit, spreading your arousal tortuously till you meet his gaze, pleading.

"Please," you finally break, voice cracked. Joel smirks, triumphant.

"There she is," Joel smirks. Then you watch as he parts your lips with two fingers, exposing you fully to him before spitting onto your clit. Your eyes widen and you squeal at the sensation, watch him marvel at the sight of his own saliva mixing with your arousal as it drips down to your cunt before he catches it on his tongue and begins to devour you.

And fuck - the urge pinch yourself returns full force. Joel Miller, a man you've known most of your life, consumes your pussy like it's his last meal on Earth.

His mouth is hot and wet, eager with his efforts as he sucks and puckers over your folds. He teases you with his tongue, fucking it into your tight hole and making you writhe beneath him. Joel hums approvingly at the response, sending a fresh wave of sensation searing through you as you curl your leg around his shoulder and pull him in closer. His nose bumps against your clit and it's so good but it's not enough; you can't help it. You whine, high-pitched and broken as you wriggle your hips in search of more.

"Quiet now," Joel chides you, using the hand he'd been using to part your folds to lay a swift slap against your pussy. A wet smack fills the room and you arch your spine at the sudden, harsh contact on your sensitive cunt. Your knees instinctively come together but Joel holds them firmly apart, already diving forward to lap at your core once again.

You hiss through clenched teeth, nearly falling apart completely when he at last begins to carefully circle your clit with the tip of his tongue. Tight, practiced, impatient swirls that make your vision blurry and your toes curl. Your fingers slacken in his curls as you give in to him, let the sweet ministrations of his tongue bring you closer and closer to the edge.

Wetness gathers at your core when he flattens his tongue and lets you grind lazily against it, another quiet hum of approval encouraging you as a knot of pleasure begins to pull taut at your insides.

"More," you find yourself moaning softly.

You can feel his smile against you. "Yeah?"

"Please," you keen, rutting up into his mouth, not even entirely sure what it is you're asking for. It's so hot in here you can hardly think straight; your skin burns in the confines of your bedroom, under the heat of his mouth, layers of fabric and feathers clinging sticky to every part of you.

Joel cocks an eyebrow at you. "You gonna keep that pretty mouth shut?"

"Yeah - yes, I will, I promise," you ramble, grabbing wildly for his wrist, guiding it towards your centre.

"You want my fingers?" he asks like he doesn't already know.

"Please."

He shoos your hand before you can even get the word out, pinning it on the vanity beside you before sinking a thick finger into your heat, grunting as the warm, wet of you engulfs his digit. The back of your head collides with the glass behind you as Joel begins to fuck his finger in and out of you, quickly adding a second. You keen at the stretch, some strangled noise getting stuck in your throat as Joel chuckles lowly.

"You like that," he comments matter-of-factly as he hooks his fingers inside you and nudges at a spot seldom found by boys your age.

"Joel!" you gasp, too loud, and the fingers he has curled around your wrist tighten, a warning. You curse yourself, covering your mouth with your free hand in an attempt to contain the noises threatening to claw their way out of way.

Joel doesn't seem to be paying much attention anyway, enraptured as his mouth finds your clit again, fingers still working you open in shallow thrusts and beckoning little motions. His tongue flicks and sucks at the bundle of nerves and you don't know when or how but the hand that conceals your lips falls to clutch as his curls again, your hips grinding into his hot mouth and pushing his fingers deeper. You're so close now, can feel release ready to snap inside you.

"M'gonna stop f'you don't shut up," Joel murmurs against you, muffled wetly into your heat.

You hadn't even realized you'd been making any sound.

You think you whisper, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry but you don't know for sure because then Joel is pulling his fingers from you and gripping your ass under your skirt to hold you flush against his face, softly moaning around your clit as he laves at you, his tongue and mouth insistent, greedy.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," you're chanting and Joel hums a noise that sounds like a question as his eyes flash up to meet yours. You can only moan and nod, telling him without words, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop before your muscles tense and you're coming with such force your entire body preens with it, spine arching and slick pooling where his chins meets your pulsing core.

Joel eats you through it, offering no reprieve even when you begin to squirm and flinch with the come down, stars still bursting behind your eyes.

"Joel, fuck," you whine when it begins to feel too much. "Can't - "

He grunts, finally detaching his mouth from you. You shiver at the loss of his warmth, cry out without meaning to when he licks a parting stripe through your sensitive folds.

When your vision refocuses, you find he's staring up at you wrecked, pink lips swollen and slick staining his cheeks and chin. There's something else there too - that stupid, pained look, that unmistakable conflict.

"Goddamn," Joel groans softly, turning his face to bite at the garter around your inner thigh.

"Joel, it's okay," you find yourself saying. You grab at the bandana around his neck, try to force him to look at you again. "Fuck me. Please. I want you to fuck me."

Joel sighs, shallow and tight, shakes his head against your leg. "You're bad fuckin' news, kid."

You can't contain the smile that spreads across your face at that. "But you want me, too? Right?"

You pet his scruff till he finally meets your gaze. There's a resignation there, in that tortured stare he gives you. But there's also lust. Wanting. He wants you.

He nods.

"Then take me," you tell him.

There's a final moment of pause, of hesitance, as Joel looks over his shoulder towards your bedroom door. You follow his gaze, pussy aching with emptiness. Joel considers the door for a moment, then looks back at you, staring at him beseechingly.

Please don't leave now, you plead with your eyes.

Joel sighs and shakes his head. You watch with curious fascination as he then begins to tug at the bandana around his neck, loosening it enough to lift it over his head.

"Sit up," he orders you, and you do, Joel moving to stand over you. You can see how hard he is now, cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. He doesn't let you ogle for long though, tilting your chin up with a strong hand under your jaw and smushing your face under his calloused fingers as he hinges down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue when he forces it into your mouth, his kiss all spit and slick and commanding dominance before he pries you off him.

"You're gonna behave," he tells you simply. Not a request, but an order as he drops his hand from your face.

"Yes, daddy," you say coyly with a big, toothy smile and Joel groans, exasperated. It makes you giggle.

"Christ," he growls with a shake of his head. "'Course you're one of those. Turn around."

He doesn't wait for you to obey, rather, he manhandles you down off the vanity and spins you away from him, bringing you face to face with your own reflection before a firm hand between your shoulders is pushing you down into the faded blue wood.

You go perfectly still, waiting, feeling the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and the hard metal of his belt buckle digging into your flesh. But Joel's not done.

He tugs at the straps of your wings, wriggling you loose from them along with your cardigan and leaving them discarded on the floor, all traces of innocence abandoned.

"Fuck," Joel breathes, eyes flitting wildly between the you before him and the you in the mirror, running a hand roughly down your spine, grabbing at every ridge and curve before landing on your hip and pulling you into him.

"Joel..." you whine and then you jolt, gasping when the tender hand on your hip makes harsh contact with your ass.

"What'd I say?" he chides you.

Before you have time to react, he's moving over you, leaning in close so his lips are right at your ear.

"You're gonna behave," he repeats. You nod but it makes no difference because then there's a flurry of red in the mirror, as Joel slips his bandana over your head. With rough but certain fingers, he tilts your chin upwards and hooks his fingers under the fabric.

"Open," he tells you and your lips part without argument.

You watch him in the mirror as he then pulls the makeshift gag up over your chin and forces it into your waiting mouth, soft, washed cotton pressing down on your tongue and scratching at your molars with how far he pushes it in.

"Bite down," he says and you do, lips straining around red, compelling you to breathe through your nose so all you can smell is the masculine scent of him embedded into the bandana's fibres, woodsy and salty and all-encompassing.

"Good girl," Joel offers and your eyes flutter at the praise. "God, look at you. Look."

His hand in your hair tugs your neck up, giving you no choice but to appraise your reflection as he hikes your skirt up to your waist and begins to unzip his jeans behind you.

You have to admit you look a mess, hair tousled and mascara smudged around your eyes, your mouth stretched obscenely around the bandana, involuntary drool already turning red to dark brown. If you'd thought the person staring back at you in this very same mirror was all woman before, now she is all girl, all mouldable and pliant and dutiful. All Joel's.

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you moan at that thought, impatiently pushing back into him when you hear the metallic clang of his belt hitting the floor.

"Yeah - gonna fuck you now," Joel vows, pressing down between your shoulder blades so your chest is flush with the vanity. Again, he yanks at your hair to keep your eyes up, keep you focused on your reflection when the hard line of cock notches at your entrance. "Watch."

You do watch, watch him as his brows furrow and his nose scrunches in concentration, staring at the place where your bodies are nearly connected before spitting a slow stream of saliva down on to your already drenched hole. He runs the tip of his cock up and down through your folds and you feel like you might go insane with want until finally, finally, he begins to sink inside with a hushed groan.

Your hands brace against the edge of the vanity as you writhe at the stretch, the burn of him filling you. It would almost be too much, you think, if the twinge of pain you feel at the intrusion wasn't one you found so delicious, wasn't a reminder that you don't think you've ever had something this big inside you before.

"Tight little pussy," Joel mutters through gritted teeth, voice strained. "Fuck me."

You whine, wish you could repeat his words right back to him. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

"What?" Joel goads, bottoming out inside you, stilling with two firm hands on your waist. "What do you want?"

You can only wiggle your hips and moan softly, a silent plea. Joel chuckles once.

"Yeah, I know," he purrs and then at last, Joel Miller is fucking you.

He wastes no time, starting a hurried pace, accented by the dull smack of skin on skin and laboured grunts passing through Joel's teeth. The vanity shakes beneath you, and you wish the rush of panic you feel at someone downstairs possibly hearing its incessant scraping against the hardwood didn't make your head spin with arousal, but it does. Or maybe it's just Joel's thick cock pounding into you, nudging at your cervix with each unforgiving stroke.

"This is what you needed, huh?" he's murmuring, voice low and dark. "A big, fat cock fillin' you up?"

Oh, god. You nod, whine around the gag, find his eyes in the mirror again and your knees go weak at the sight of his form looming over yours, the collar of his shirt askew, sweat dampening his forehead.

"Yeah? Dirty - fuckin' - slut."

You keen at that, push back into the place his hips meet yours and moan. Slick dribbles between your thighs and your pussy flutters around his length and of course, of course Joel notices the response.

"Oh - you like that, don't you?" he grunts, tugging at your hair once again and making your spine arch for him.

"Look," he repeats, coaxing you to lock eyes with your own depraved reflection, a fallen angel spilling out of a corset, willingly split open by her dad's best friend. "Look what a bad girl you grew up to be."

Another muffled moan is swallowed by his bandana, his words sending a lick of heat down your spine as something wild and heady begins to scratch at your nerves. His frame engulfs yours again, lips back at your ear as he whispers,

"Daddy's cock'll fix you."

Oh fuck. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you think you hear him laugh, a mocking sound that only drives you crazier, only makes your brain go foggier when he pulls back and clutches at your hips, fucking you so hard you feel tears prick at your eyes and a tightness start to build in your core all over again.

"Yeah, that's right," Joel rasps softly, breathless. "You wanna be good, don't you? Wanna be a good girl and come again for daddy? Go on, baby - come on daddy's cock."

You want to - fuck, you want to come again. You want to be so, so good for him. To show him you always could be. Your eyes begin to flutter closed as you crane onto your tippy toes to take him deeper, feel the drag of him against the sweetest part of you, hurtling towards release with each thrust of his hips against yours.

"Don't," Joel orders you, tapping your cheek with gentle intent till you open your eyes. "Want you to look at yourself when you come on my cock."

You immediately flit your gaze up to meet your reflection, see your cheek pressed into wood, eyes wet and mouth full of fabric. You barely register Joel reaching around you to toy sloppily with your clit before you're falling apart, coming with a silent scream and clenching down around his length.

"Good girl," Joel grants you raggedly as your body quivers under his and then goes limp, waves of your come gathering around his girth and dripping down his balls. "Fuck - that's so good, baby."

Joel fucks you relentlessly as your second orgasm crashes over you, chasing his own high as he begins to ramble wildly under his breath, his voice echoing hollowly in your pleasure-drunk mind as though he were speaking from very far away.

"Gonna fuckin' ruin you, baby girl. Gonna use this little pussy up. You're not gonna wanna take another cock for weeks."

You whimper tiredly, nod obediently. You're not sure you want to take another cock besides his ever again.

"Maybe I'll send ya out to that club with my come drippin' outta ya."

And you know it's stupid and careless and wrong to want that but you make a noise that sounds like yes please all the same. Joel groans.

"Say that again?" he presses you, the rock of his hips coming faster, more erratic.

Yes please, you try again, words turning into mumbled nothings against the gag.

"Shit," Joel curses lowly, and you're jolted back to almost-reality when he forcefully tugs the bandana from your mouth and air fills your lungs in a cool rush. "One more time."

"Please," you say, voice broken and hoarse. "Yes, please. Come inside me."

You think you catch him smirk in the mirror but it's quickly replaced by something else entirely, his jaw slackening as his breath begins to stutter and his chest begins to heave, a whispered chant of, oh shit oh shit oh shit your final warning before he's spilling deep inside you.

He hardly makes a sound as his big hands come down on the vanity beside your head, thick arms all around you as he pumps his load into you. He's biting down hard on his lower lip, doing a far better job of staying quiet than you are, tired little whimpers pouring from between your lips until he's folding over your back and covering your mouth with his palm again.

You stay like that, your breath hot against his hand and his lips in your hair, until he's emptied himself completely. He frees your mouth once it's over but stays glued to your back, a heavy weight above you as both your breathing levels out.

You both shiver when he pulls out, and there's a softness in the way he tilts your face towards his now, in the way he lazily licks into your mouth at the same time that his fingers reach between your bodies to catch the come dripping out of you and push it back inside.

Eons seem to pass before he's sighing and hoisting himself off you with a gentle, "C'mon, baby." He taps your sides as he steps away but you stay where you are. You're not sure you have it in you to move just yet.

You hear the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle and then his hands are on you again, tentative as he pulls your skirt down over your ass and smooths out the fabric.

"Hey," he murmurs, and you're pleasantly surprised at the feel of his lips pressing sweetly into your upper back. "Come on."

He tugs at your arms, gently helping pull you upright and sighing again as he takes in the sight of you. You smile, almost bashful about it, Joel carefully lifting the bandana up over your head and adjusting your hair for you with a sigh. He crouches to retrieve your cardigan and fits it back over your shoulders before slipping you back into your angel wings.

"Look up," he says, and you do, holding perfectly still as he rubs his thumbs under your eyes, caressing away drying tears and smears of black make-up.

He tuts.

"You might wanna..." He makes an errant gesture with his hand at your tarnished visage, and you understand.

The ridiculousness of it all seems to catch up with you then and you giggle breathily, shaking your head as if to wake from some perfect, lucid dream.

"Thanks," you tell him. "Joel, I'm - I'm sorry for lying to you."

Joel licks his lips and you think for a moment he's going to tell you off, scold you like you probably deserve. But then he grins and there he is again - the Joel you remember from before.

"Guess I can't really complain," he concedes, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "You're, uh - you're somethin' else, sweetheart."

You smile and Joel sighs, finally letting his hand fall. You watch him as he finds his hat, warming when he stops to kiss your cheek before making his way towards the door.

"Wait," you call quietly after him. "So would you...do you wanna do this again? While I'm in town?"

There's a lengthy beat of nervous uncertainty and then Joel laughs. He shakes his head and stares at the floor as he readorns his hat, finally turning to face you with one hand on your doorknob.

"You're gonna be trouble, aren't you, Angel?"

You smirk devilishly back at him. "You're damn right, cowboy."

You offer him a parting wink that has him shaking his head for the millionth time as he slinks discreetly out the door, closing it behind him and leaving you alone with the woman in the mirror.

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lieutenant-rasczak · 2 years ago

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On the incredible danger of the quaint, English village....

Although I live in Texas, thanks to various streaming services I get to watch a great deal of British T.V. I have noticed that these shows (Midsomer Murders, Dalziel and Pascoe, Waking the Dead, Shakespeare and Hathaway, Vera, Rosemary & Thyme, Wycliffe, etc.) share a common theme.

And, after a certain amount of research I discovered that, believe it or not, the third leading cause of death in the UK seems to be "Moving to a quaint, country village".

While “Getting murdered in a quaint, English, village” killed slightly fewer UK Residents in 2021 than "Cancer" and "Heart Disease" it was distressingly close. Even worse it came in only slightly ahead of "Attending a weekend party at a stately country home", which is in itself a fairly lethal pastime. In fact “Attending a weekend party at a stately country home” WAS the second leading cause of death in Britain between 1919 and 1939, but began to decline after the war as the Labour Govt. raised taxes and the number of country homes dropped drastically; thus causing a steep decline in the number of weekend parties one could be murdered at.

In any case my research indicates that IF you are British, AND you are feeling down, depressed, and suicidal, there is no reason for you to run your car off a cliff, or take a trip to Switzerland. In fact, you need only do the following

1) move to a lovely, quiet, English village where nothing ever happens, but the murder rate is (adjusted for population) is far higher than that of South Chicago or East L.A.

You might think that such a village would be hard to find, but apparently England is simply teeming with them. Places with highly competitive flower shows or bleak, cliff filled coastlines seem to be particularly deadly.

2) Change your will, and make sure to mention this to the former beneficiary. (This is vitally important!) Also make sure to let them know where the new will is kept. The top drawer of your desk is probably the best place, no need for locking file cabinets or bank safety deposit boxes!

3) Develop a keen interest in local land titles and/or genealogy. In fact you should probably announce that you are writing a book on the subject. (It is suggested that you do so in a crowded pub.) In any case make sure to spend plenty of time at the local public records office researching this while receiving vaguely threatening remarks from various upset neighbours. If you receive any threatening notes make sure to save them in an easily discovered drawer somewhere, but do NOT mention them to anybody, and certainly do not heed any warnings you are given about a need to “back off”. That last one is ESSENTIAL.

4) Stand against the most popular member in the election for Parish Council. Threatening to win the local flower show is also a good move.

5) Always leave the door or doors unlocked at night. (This includes your car.) Even if you have lived in London for decades, discard any habits you may have about locking up as soon as you move to the quaint, country, murder hole.

6) Never close any curtains or blinds, that way your future assailant always knows exactly where you are and what you are doing.

7) Either don't have a phone or keep it in an inaccessible or hard to find place.

8) Never, ever have any useful weapons nearby or if you do ensure you lose of drop them immediately on seeing your assailant.

Do this, and you’re guaranteed to be pushing up daisies by Christmas.

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trulybetty · 1 year ago

Text

Sequins | Joel Miller x f!Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) + no outbreak AU Reader: no physical descriptions, reader wears a dress Word Count: 3,195 Warnings: 18+, smutty mc smut smut, alcohol, nightclubs, drunken behaviour, public sexual acts, Joel Miller comes with his own warnings. Summary: On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you. AO3: Linked

A/N: everyone and all, this fic is based on the post that launched a thousand thots and we can all thank @wildemaven for all of this as she inspired the whole thing.

Sequins.

The club was loud, the lights were bright, the drinks were way too expensive and you had lost sight of your friends on your way back from the bar.

Just as you were contemplating retreating to a quieter corner of the club to check your phone, you collided with a pair of broad shoulders.

“Whoa there,” the stranger said, steadying you by the arm. “You alright there darlin'?”

His voice was a deep Texas drawl and for a brief second, the noise of the club seemed less loud as you got lost in his dark brown eyes. They were weary but kind, a stark contrast to the rowdy atmosphere surrounding you.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thanks,” you replied, adjusting your dress, cursing as several of the sequins dropped to the floor with the tug you gave it from where it'd rode up on your thighs. You clutched your drink a little tighter too, not wanting to lose the contents of the twelve-dollar highball you hadn't even had a chance to sip at yet. “Just lost my bearings for a second.”

He looked as out of place as you felt, clad in a button-up plaid green shirt and jeans, clearly uncomfortable amidst the flashing lights and thumping bass. It was endearing, in a way. With a little smile tugging at your lips, and the alcohol emboldening you, you decided to take a chance.

“You look a bit out of your element,” you winked, “First time in a place like this?”

He chuckled as he raised a curious eyebrow, “Is it that obvious ma’am?”

“A little bit,” you said playfully as you wrapped your lips around the thin cocktail straw of your drink. “But it's charming. So, what brings you here?” you asked, leaning in closer so he could hear you over the music, gesturing at the crowded dance floor.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and shrugged. “My brother's bachelor party, so I couldn't exactly say no,” he said, nodding toward a group of rowdy men holding up the bar at the other end of the room. “I'm the best man, so I had to come along and make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid.”

He glanced back at you, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a mischievous smirk. “What about you darlin'? You with anyone tonight?”

“Just some friends,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “We're here for a bachelorette party, seems like the place to be for pre-wedding celebrations tonight.”

His eyebrows raised in question, his gaze flickering to your left hand. “So is it safe to assume you're not the bride?”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips at his brazen assumption, the sound ringing out above the music.

Shaking your head, you had a smile still tugging at the corners of your mouth. “No, I'm the maid of honour,” you said, “I was supposed to be on duty, but I guess I failed because I can't find the bride.” Your gaze swept around for any sign of your group of friends but they were nowhere to be found.

He smiled, and for a brief second, the heavy bass and flashing lights seemed to disappear. “Well, if you’re failing your duties, I guess that makes two of us.”

You took a sip of your drink, the alcohol warming your throat, and looked Joel up and down. There was a rugged sincerity about him, a sense of grit that you found intriguing.

“So, you got a name cowboy?”

He laughed quietly as he shook his head, “Joel,” he answered, and you found the gesture of him almost offering his hand for a handshake endearing before he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “And who might you be sweetheart?” he asked.

You gave him your name before your tongue found the straw of your drink again and took a short sip. You could feel his gaze land on your lips as you sipped.

“Pretty name for a pretty face.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliment. His eyes were still fixed on your mouth and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, suddenly feeling a little awkward under Joel's gaze. His eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw a glint of amusement there, like he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

“So, your girlfriend let you out for the night?”

He released a low chuckle from deep within his chest. “No girlfriend to speak of,” he answered with a shake of his head.

“How about a wife then?” you inquired, your eyes twinkling with curiosity.

He shook his head again. “Nope. Flying solo these days.”

You eyed him with interest, studying every detail-from the sparkle in his eyes to the subtle wrinkles around them. You hummed thoughtfully before replying, “Interesting.”

You couldn't help but feel a spark of attraction towards him. There was something about his demeanour that made your heart race. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his voice sent shivers down your spine. Whatever it was, you couldn't deny that there was chemistry between the two of you.

“Interesting, you say?” Joel leaned in, a coy grin on his face. “What's so interesting about a single guy at a bachelor party?”

You matched his posture, leaning in just close enough to make the tension palpable. “Well, a guy like you, good-looking, charming, single. It's either a mystery or a tragedy.”

Joel's eyes sparkled with amusement. “You think I'm charming, huh? Well, let's call it a mystery for now.”

You smiled. “A mystery it is, then.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, on the edge of the crowded venue, caught in a mix of smoky air, flashing lights, and electric vibes, sharing a sort of silent agreement that this meeting, this connection, was something more.

“So,” Joel hesitated, clearly trying to phrase his next question carefully. He cleared his throat, a little awkward as he tried to navigate the terrain of flirtation. “If you're here, not being the bride and all, and I'm here, not being the groom, would it be too presumptuous of me to assume that you're...uh, not seeing anyone?”

His roundabout way of asking made you laugh. It was a little clumsy but endearing in its awkwardness. His flirting skills were obviously rusty, but it just made him more appealing.

“No husband, no boyfriend. Free as a bird,” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

He gave a half smile as he crossed his arms over his chest, the stretch of the shirt over his biceps and shoulders caused you to involuntarily lick your lips. A move that wasn't missed on him as he smirked to himself as he shifted in his stance.

“You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here,” you observed.

He looked at you, his eyes sincere. “Well, I wouldn't say 'anywhere.' I've enjoyed bumping into you, for one.”

It was evident now that there was attraction between the two of you. You could feel the electricity in the air around you, and it made your heart flutter in anticipation. The light from the club's strobe lights bounced off of your sequined dress, highlighting every curve of your body. His gaze seemed to linger on each one of them, causing a warmth to spread through you.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you both and stopped when his body was mere inches away from yours. His gaze lifted up to meet yours, and you swore that you could see a sparkle of desire deep within his eyes.

Your fingers trailed up his bare forearm, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Even in the dim light of the club, you could make out the definition of the muscle that flexed under your fingertips. Your fingers ran back down and you outlined the watch at his wrist, the large dial secured with a green canvas strap. Pausing for a moment you looked up at him from under your lashes and you could see from the laboured rise and fall of his chest that he was feeling whatever it was between you two also.

You paused, lifting your gaze from Joel to scan the fringes of the dance floor, checking if anyone was watching or if you were at risk of being 'caught'. The crowd seemed too engrossed in their own worlds, dancing and laughing, oblivious to the electric connection you were sharing with Joel at the edge of the dance floor.

Without breaking eye contact, and in a move that surprised even you, you took his hand by the wrist and brought it to the hem of your dress, and under. He raised an eyebrow in a silent ask of permission, your response was to move his hand higher up your thigh. He didn’t need any further encouragement. His fingers, while calloused from manual labour moved deftly to push aside your underwear. His fingers curled into his palm, he let his knuckles run down the length of you, and you couldn’t help the gasp that bubbled up from your throat as they made their way back up, your hands still wrapped around his forearm.

Joel's lips curved into a grin as he watched your reaction. He glanced around surreptitiously, then leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Is this what you want, darlin'?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You barely managed a nod, the closeness of him in combination of his fingers unfurling into you while the thrill of intimacy in a public setting tinged by the alcohol on your tongue was intoxicating.

His body moved even closer to yours, your drink balancing precariously on your upturned palm as his other hand snaked past your hip to your ass, your dress riding up slightly in the process. He kept his hand in place, his thumb gently ghosting your clit with steady pressure and his index finger and middle finger parted and slowly slipped inside of you. You let out a soft moan as your body adjusted to his fingers, and your grip around his forearm loosened.

He leaned in, his lips travelling down your neck. You felt a shiver run through your body as his teeth grazed over the exposed skin, each kiss sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. He dropped kisses to your exposed neck, his lips tracing a line up to your ear. He whispered something inaudible, the words barely discernible over the music blaring from the speakers.

Your one arm wrapped around his neck while your free hand found its way to his broad shoulder, you held on for dear life as he continued to drop soft kisses along your collarbone. Your nails dug in as his fingers somehow managed to move deeper. His thumb increased its pressure as his fingers curled inside of you, coaxing out the sensation that had been building inside of you since the second you'd bumped into him.

The thrill of being caught heightened every sense and quickly was building a delicious tension between your hips and you let out a sigh that was drowned out by the thumping beat of the music. He pulled away slightly, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eye before leaning back in to finally put his lips to yours, his fingers never once losing their steady pace as you hungrily returned his kiss.

As soon as he broke the kiss to catch his breath, your lips never left his. Your tongue invaded his mouth, tasting the alcohol on his tongue from the drink he'd finished earlier, before your teeth clenched into his bottom lip. He let out a soft moan as you bit down, your fingernails now scraping the back of his neck.

A moan escaped your lips as he quickened his pace, the perfect timing catching you right at the edge of your climax. His grip on your waist tightened and he pulled you towards him. His free hand rubbed the small of your back in a soothing circle, trying to calm your uncontrollable trembling.

You could feel the jagged hiss of his breath against your ear as he pulled away just enough to whisper “Let it go, darlin’.”

You pressed against him, your nails biting into his shoulder as you came hard on his fingers.

“Joel...” you managed to whimper out as you clung to him.

Your breath hitched and before you knew it, a wave crashed through your body, carrying with it sensations unlike the ones before. Your nails dug into Joel's shoulder as waves of pleasure coursed through every nerve-ending in your body until eventually they subsided and all that was left was the warmth radiating from between your thighs and Joel's softly whispered words in your ear telling you how beautiful you were.

You collapsed against him, completely spent your body still quivering around him he held you steady, never once taking his hands away.

He glanced around to see if anyone had caught sight of your public display, and thankfully no one had. “You okay there sweetheart?” he said breathlessly, his hand still in place, sliding in and out of you slowly and teasing as you tried to regain some composure.

He looked at you with a soft smile, your free fingers now playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. The bass was now shaking the floor, its vibrations now mixed with the buzz of your orgasm.

He smiled as he slowly pulled his hand away, his fingers slipping from your body creating a shiver to run through you. He leaned in closer and softly grazed his lips against yours before pulling away.

“That was…” your voice trailed off as your tongue stumbled trying to find words, your voice barely audible over the music.

Joel’s lips curved into a mischievous smile, just on the edge of uttering a response, when a lurching figure ambled up and draped their arms across his shoulder.

“Hey! There you are! Brother-” the slurred voice that came from the man who had stumbled into Joel. Based on the striking resemblance it could only be his brother whose bachelor party he'd mentioned it was. Joel quickly let go of your hand to suddenly catch him as he stumbled, shouldering the weight of his younger brother - the only thing now that was keeping him standing, “I think I want to go find Maria.” Tommy hiccuped, unaware of the spell he had just broken.

Joel's face flushed crimson and he looked at you apologetically, “I think it's time to get you home, Tommy.”

You took a step back, understanding the need for him to take care of his brother and trying not to make things awkward.

“Maybe I could give you my number? Maybe we can catch up when your hands aren't so full?” You gestured towards Tommy, whose eyes were glassy as tried to remain upright.

He frowned slightly before understanding crossed over his features and a grin appeared on his face, “Well, a gentleman could never say no to a lady such as yourself.”

He handed over his phone, managing to retrieve it from his back pocket while still holding Tommy, who was currently singing the praises of his fiancée in a tipsy monologue. You quickly tapped your way through the phone, pausing only to smile at the phone's background.

“Alright, you're all set,” you said, handing him back his phone with a smile before you busied yourself with your own briefly.

“Was that your number I just got a notification for?” he asked, pocketing the phone.

You smirked and said, “Why don’t you check it out when you get home? It's more of a surprise that way.”

He chuckled, before ushering his brother out the door. He paused and looked back at you, mouthing 'bye' as he put his arm around Tommy's waist and started walking away.

You watched them go, your eyes lingering on Joel's figure until they disappeared into the crowd. You blew out a long breath, feeling your heart thump in your chest from the adrenaline rush of what had just taken place. Your body still felt tingly from where his fingers had been moments ago and you allowed yourself to bask in it for a few more seconds before shaking off the trance-like state, and heading out to find your friends who had been blowing up your phone wondering where you were.

As you tucked yourself into bed, your phone buzzed with a new message. Opening it, you found a text from Joel.

Hey darlin', get home safe?

Smiling, you tapped out a reply, Yes, thank you for asking. How about you, cowboy?

Just got home. Tonight was something. Glad we met.

Feeling your heart swell with affection, you set your phone down on the bedside table. Squeezing your thighs together it was almost as if you could feel his fingers lingering there still. You didn't know how long you'd been lost in your thoughts when they were interrupted by a dip in the bed behind you.

A warm arm wrapping around your waist pulled you against their chest, the bristle of a beard that refused to grow nuzzled into the space between your shoulder and neck.

“There’s sequins all over this damn house.”

“My dress,” you murmured half asleep as you leaned back into the embrace, kisses ghosting the underside of your jaw. “They just kept falling off.”

“Did you have a good night?”

“Mm, I did. It was... unexpected,” you responded, feeling the gentle press of his lips against your skin as he chuckled softly. “How about you?”

His arm tightened around you for a moment, pulling you even closer to him. “Well, I met this incredibly beautiful woman at some club, and it turns out she's already my wife. So, I'd say it's a win.”

You laughed quietly at that, loving how he could still make your heart race even after years of marriage. “You're incorrigible,” you said, placing your hand over his where it rested on your waist.

Joel chuckled softly into your hair, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine despite the coziness of your surroundings, “In the best way, I hope,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

“The very best way,” you confirmed, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you nestled into the warmth of his embrace. You were both right where you belonged, and despite the evening's antics, that thought filled you with a profound sense of peace.

You smiled, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes in the dim light filtering through the curtains. “And how's Tommy? Did he make it to bed alright?”

Joel sighed, “Ah, well he definitely had one too many, gettin’ him into bed was like wrestlin' a bear, but he's sleeping it off. Thanks again for ordering that Uber darlin', I wouldn't have had a clue. Thought he was going to kick us out at one point, Tommy hollerin' about how much he'd drank.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, absorbing the feel of each other, the simple joy of being close after a night that had, at first, seemed destined to keep you apart.

As you began to drift off, Joel kissed the back of your head, whispering softly, “I love you, sweetheart.”

A contented smile tugged at your lips. “I love you too, Joel.”

#joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader

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rootedinrevisions · 19 days ago

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Kinktober 2024: Day 22

PROMPT: "Oh? And where would you rather I bite you?"

KINK: Pool Sex, Messing Around in Public, Biting/Marking

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Not really smut just biting.

WORD COUNT: 768

TAG LIST: See Comments

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, but Texas had no plans of cooling down. The heat still clung to the air, settling thickly around you as you and Tyler made your way to the pool. The rest of the team had opted to stay in their rooms, soaking in the air conditioning, but you and Tyler craved something different—an escape from the heat, a chance to unwind beneath the stars.

As soon as you reached the pool, you peeled off your tank top and shorts, revealing the swimsuit underneath. Tyler’s eyes lingered on you with an appreciative gleam as he stripped down to his swim trunks. The air between you buzzed with something beyond the heat of the day, a silent promise of what was to come.

The water welcomed you as you slipped in, cool and soothing against your sun-kissed skin. Tyler followed suit, and for a few moments, the two of you simply enjoyed the relief of the water, floating lazily beneath the dim glow of the pool lights. The world was quiet, except for the gentle splash of water and the distant hum of cicadas.

You caught his eye, tilting your head back and pretending to adjust the top of your swimsuit, your fingers deliberately tugging at the straps. It wasn’t a huge movement, but enough to draw attention to your chest, the fabric shifting slightly, and you waited for him to react.

But Tyler, always patient, always in control, didn’t so much as bat an eye. He leaned back against the edge of the pool, arms draped along the rim, pretending to be completely uninterested. The smirk on his lips, though, told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

Your lips curved into a pout, your lower lip jutting out as you let out a small, exasperated sigh. You wanted his attention, and he was making you work for it.

“Ty…” you said softly, trying to catch his attention again, but he just raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.

“Yeah, baby?” His tone was teasing, almost mocking, and you could feel the heat of your annoyance building. “What’s the matter? Getting frustrated?”

Without another word, he swam over to you, his movements smooth and deliberate, closing the distance between you in seconds. Before you could even react, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His other hand settled on your waist, holding you in place, and then—without warning—he dipped his head down, taking your pouty lower lip between his teeth.

You gasped at the suddenness of it, your eyes widening as the teasing bite sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Tyler!” you breathed, your hands coming up to press against his chest. “You can’t just bite me there.”

Tyler released your lip, his mouth hovering dangerously close to yours, his breath hot against your skin. “Oh? And where would you rather I bite you?” His voice was a low murmur, sending shivers down your spine.

Before you could answer, his lips moved to your neck, finding that spot just below your ear that he knew drove you wild. He bit down gently, making you gasp, the sensation of his teeth on your skin sending a pulse of heat straight to your core.

“Here?” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing against your neck as he continued to kiss and nibble along the sensitive skin. You squirmed in his hold, your body reacting to every touch, every nip.

“Ty…” you managed to say between breaths, but he wasn’t done. His mouth moved lower, down to your collarbone, where he nipped again, harder this time, drawing a sharp gasp from you. The heat of his breath followed each bite, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Or maybe…” His voice trailed off as his mouth moved lower, down to your chest, his lips hovering just above the line of your swimsuit. You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, anticipation buzzing through every nerve in your body. Tyler’s eyes met yours, dark and full of mischief. “Maybe I should bite you here,” he whispered, his teeth grazing the skin just above your breast, “where no one can see.”

Your breath hitched as he bit down, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of your chest, just beneath the edge of your swimsuit. The sensation sent a wave of heat crashing through you, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as your body arched toward him. Tyler’s mouth lingered there, his tongue soothing the bite, before he pulled back just slightly, enough to murmur against your skin.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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cowgurrrl · 2 years ago

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“I want to be great or nothing.”

Summary: When world famous rockstar Joel Miller finds himself in some hot water with the press, his PR team suggests fake dating an up and coming actress to refine his image. However, when they actually start spending time together, the happy couple can’t stand each other. Will they be able to turn it around for the cameras or will it all be for nothing?

Warnings: smut indicated with an asterisk, tlou au, fake dating, enemies to ???, Sarah is alive :D

01. Smile You’re on Camera [1.7k]

02. When The Sun Goes Down [2.6k]

03. BWFW [3.8k]

04. Kiwi [3.8k]

05. A plea for tenderness* [7.3k]

06. Blueberry Pancakes* [4.5k]

07. Losing My Cool [1.1k]

08. Never Thought [3.5k]

09. Layla [2.3k]

10. Pine Point [4.7k]

11. Old Friends Die Hard [3.6k]

12. Too Close [2.5k]

13. The Chain [2.6k]

14. From the Dining Table [4.5k]

15. Wonderfully Bizarre [1.2k]

🎸🎸🎸

Drabbles

A Soulmate Who Wasn’t Meant to Be: You settle into life without Joel

Night Shift: Joel settles into life without you

Tennessee Whiskey: A (somewhat) quiet night as you and Joel adjust to sharing life again

Thank God I Found You: You and Joel talk about going public with your relationship

Gold Dust Woman: Oscars season with Joel

The Actress: Red carpet interviews with Joel

Je te laisserai des mots: You and Joel realize forever doesn’t sound too bad

I Want To Marry You: Joel asks you The Question

Kiss Me Once, and Kiss Me Twice: You and Joel get married

Heavy Metal Drummer: When Joel’s drummer suddenly drops out, who better to fill in than the girl who’s been there since the beginning?

Just A Boy: Joel struggles with your newest cast mate

Small Bump: You tell the girls you’re pregnant

Beautiful Boy: You and Joel find out the gender of your baby

Hayloft: Joel being protective of his family

Choreomania: Sammy tries to figure out if he likes what his dad does

Brooklyn Baby: You and Joel welcome your son

Iris: Sarah and Ellie hold Sam for the first time

Hey Me, Hey Mama: Mother’s Day

Jackie and Wilson: A night in the Miller household

Little Wonders: When Mom Guilt takes over, Joel finds a way to support you

Mama’s Boy: Sam’s going through a phase

Daydream Believer: Daisy seems to know something you don’t

As It Was: You and Joel have an announcement

At Last: Sam doesn’t seem to know the difference between real life and acting

Daylight: An almost perfect Texas day with the Millers

Yo Gotti: You and Joel read thirst tweets together

Beautiful Girls: Your first night at home with your twins

Love You: Joel being the best dad to tiny baby angels

How Could I Not Love You?: A special day

Unknown: You find out Violet has asthma

I’m Still Standing: Actors on Actors: You and Carolina Garcia-Long

My Girls: The first of many Sophia and Violet days

Lucky: The girls are going through a phase

Girls On Film: Joel accidentally starts discourse

I’m Just Ken: A Halloween fashion show with the Millers

Live from New York: You and Joel take on SNL

Please Come Home for Christmas: The Christmas season with the Millers

Wildflower and Barley: Jealous joel

Bug: The BuzzFeed Puppy Interview

Salad Days: The t-shirt coup

The Millers: A Year in The Life: A documentary about your lives

So This Is Love: A Beach Day

Good Old Days: A SAG-AFTRA Career Retrospective

🎸🎸🎸

Extras 🤠

Joel and sundress season*

Dancing with Joel

Your instagram story 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

ACL with the Millers

Joel’s tattoos

You and Joel find out you’re having a baby

Your reaction to questions about kids

Family headcanons

Random thoughts 1

Random thoughts 2

Honeymoon with Joel

Actress!reader freaking out about Joel on Instagram

Talking about your relationship with Joel

Sammy Insta posts

Family instagram posts

Sophia and Violet

Birthday headcanons

What the kids do later in life

Text threads :D 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

The kids’ instagrams

Grandpa Joel

Grandpa Joel pt. 2

Instagram stories: Barbie edition

Random family thoughts

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us au #the last of us fluff #Joel au #joel the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff

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misspearly1 · 2 years ago

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Hush

Pairing: Joel Miller x You (F!Reader)

Summary: There are many benefits to renting an apartment with your best friend; you can split the cost of bills and keep the spare cash, thus fattening your savings in the bank. The only downside however, is bringing your Texas born and raised boyfriend back to your place and trying to stay quiet when things become a little intimate between you and the man.

Keeping quiet proves to be a difficult task, especially since he can’t keep his hands off you, and when you become a little too vocal in the bedroom, well… he has to hush you.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. TLOU AU; the outbreak never happened in this story. Established Relationship. Date Night in the city. Teasing/Flirting. Kissing. Hand Holding. Smut. References of Public Sex/Foreplay. Mentions of Oral Sex. Unprotected PIV Sex (wrap it up irl folks). Rough Bathroom Sex. Joel holding his hand over Readers mouth to keep her quiet. Squirting. Soft aftercare and lots of Fluff. If I have missed anything in the warnings, please don’t hesitate to call it out, thanks!

AN: Oh, how I miss writing oneshots for this sexy fella. I really enjoyed this one, my loves. I hope you like it as well. 🥰

Living in the heart of Austin, Texas wasn’t your first choice, hell, it wasn’t even your second choice, but you’ve lived in the city for five years now and there’s a lot of things you're going to miss when you eventually move out of your apartment and buy your first house.

You’ll miss the serenity of waking up before everyone else and walking to work when the streets are almost bare and light with traffic. It’s calm and pleasant during those hours of the morning, and you’ll miss visiting all of your local cafes and coffee shops too, especially the owners and workers you’ve become friends with since you’re one of their regulars. You’ll miss living with your roommate too and all the things you’ve grown to love here.

Venturing out into the city on a Friday evening however, is not something you are going to miss. It’s what you consider to be the busiest day of the week since people are finishing work and heading into the weekend with a lot of steam and wild energy to blow off. Even though the nightlife of Austin has only just begun, you’re glad to be heading home to escape the mayhem. It’s much too busy for your comfort. You feel claustrophobic and suffocated.

The sidewalks are flooded with a slow-moving stream of pedestrians, the restaurants and clubs thronging with partygoers spilling out the doorways - their chatter, screaming or fighting deafening your ears - and the pavement you walk along is wet and sticky from spilled booze and food.

Oh yeah. This won't be missed, you thought with slight disgust. The streets will be cleaned tomorrow morning, but it’s a shame to see them so messy and littered with trash. Frankly, you would have much preferred to stay home this evening, but what brought you outside this busy Friday night was the guy you’re seeing - who is currently opening a cab door for you both to climb inside and make a swift getaway.

The night might have just begun for some people in the city, but yours is coming to a blissful end, and after you had practically thrown yourself into the backseat, eager to get home and relax, he jumped in after you with the same sense of enthusiasm and gave the cab driver your address instead of his, thus making you turn to look at him with a quizzical expression. “My place tonight?” You asked, a surprised tone in your voice.

“Yeah,” Joel replies keenly. “Tommy and Sarah will be asleep now. I don’t wanna wake 'em up and besides, your place is closer,” he adjusts his seating position to better suit his comfort by wrapping an arm around your lower back and pulling you into his side. “Is that okay with you, babydoll?” he asks, his voice softened with affection, and even if it wasn’t ok with you, that thick southern drawl of his would make it ok. You nod softly with a small smile on your lips, “Mhm. Yeah, that’s perfectly fine with me,” you whispered.

Upon noticing the way you were lustfully gazing at him, he mirrors your little smile and winks, the flirty gesture making your cheeks heat up with flattery. He reaches out to place his finger on your chin, keeping you in place as he leans in slowly and closes the gap. It was a chaste peck on your lips, yet it was electrifying. The way he looked back at you, his eyes honeyed with desire and passion, sparked an arousing sensation in your core. You were turned on rather quickly. It didn’t take much and it’s all because of a simple gesture, but Joel knows how to make you feel horny in the most uncomplicated ways.

You feel happy in his presence tonight - you always do - but more happy than you’ve ever felt before. Since you’ve been dating the man for six months now and have slept together plenty during that time, it’s abundantly clear that he’s still into you and isn’t looking for something casual. Despite the fact that he did tell you from the beginning that he’s not looking for a fling, you always take those words with a pinch of salt from guys, never fully trusting that they’re being serious to save yourself the heartbreak later down the line. You like to think that actions speak louder than words, and so far, Joel’s actions have been loud and clear on how he feels about you.

As he turns away to look out the window and watch the sidewalk crammed with people pass by, you watch the ample glow of neon lights gliding across his face, the pretty colors highlighting his handsome features gracefully. His date night attire was pleasing to look at also. He wore a clean black fitted shirt, long sleeved but the fabric was neatly folded up his arms, and the top two buttons of his shirt were left open which generously displayed the sexy distinct veins in his neck, the cut off point of his summer tan and the hair nestled at the top of his chest. The dark blue jeans and belt really tied his outfit together though, accentuating his tall and muscular build. He looked really good, and all of the men and women who turned their heads to eye him up tonight would agree.

Joel is older than you, not to a great extent, but you sometimes wonder if all men age like fine wine or if it’s just him. You’ve seen pictures of him in his younger days and he was good looking back then too. Having said that though, it came as quite a shock to even find him on a dating app all those months ago. Suppose you have his daughter and his brother to thank for pushing him back into the dating world otherwise your paths wouldn’t have crossed together. You wouldn’t be here right now feeling his calloused fingertips caressing your knee, his hand threatening to travel up your bare leg and disappear under your skirt at any given second. You see that little smirk on his face, the corner of his lips turning upwards ever so slightly with the filthy thought of fingering you in the backseat of a cab. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something so sexually audacious and it won’t be the last either.

Joel’s personality is generally rather reserved and private overall. He has to connect with someone before opening up to show everything about himself; all the good, the bad, the ugly and his vulnerabilities too. It didn’t just happen overnight with you or after the first date. It took time for him to reach the level of comfortability and openness where he’s at right now, and you’re most grateful for it because he’s more than just his good looks. He’s a big softie and a gentle giant, a family man who is protective, kind and compassionate. He has many features besides his appearance that you adore so much, and while you still admire all those pretty coloured neon lights gliding across his handsome face, you think highly of everything else about the man too. Flaws and all, including the bad, the ugly and his vulnerabilities.

Your deep train of thought comes to a halt with the cab pulling up outside your apartment block; it was situated right on the shores of Lady Bird Lake and just a five minute walk away from the Texas State Capitol. This location is divine, perfectly placed in the city where it isn’t too noisy nor too quiet, and you like that balance. You’ll miss your apartment, but Scarlett Nicholson is someone you’ll miss most of all. She is your best friend and roommate. You moved in together to split the cost of bills and help each other save up enough money to move out someday, and considering you’ve both amassed enough savings, that might be any day now.

After beating Joel to the chance of paying the cab driver, you both climbed out the car and made your way to the main entrance, the cold night-time breeze whipping between the buildings causing your skirt to lift up and expose your underwear. He grins from ear to ear at the sight of you frantically trying to cover your ass, then stands behind you and pulls you flush against his chest whilst holding your hips firmly. “Here. Let me help with that,” he said with a burgeoning excitement, his bellowing laughter tickling your neck. “Showing all yer goods to the neighbours there, doll.”

“Only person seeing these goods is you, Joel.” You scoff jokingly. Holding onto his hands and approaching the main doors to your apartment building, the wind was still causing your skirt to lift up, but at least now your backside was concealed by his body. “Thanks for laughing at me before stepping in to help, babe. I really appreciate that,” you giggle with a modicum of chide in your tone.

“Of course. Anytime darlin’,” he chuckles before opening the door for you. Once you were inside and out of the cold, he didn’t let you go of you and continued to walk with his chest pinned to your back, using the close proximity to place open mouthed kisses on your neck. It was a little difficult to walk properly, but you didn’t mind all that much since the hold he had over you was intoxicating. The man sucked on your skin, leaving a pretty little bruise behind whilst humping your ass exaggeratedly, the movements making your whole body bob up and down as you walk up the stairwell. He was really grinding his hips into you and it was more of a humorous gesture rather than sexual, the sight could only be described as silly and perverted.

“Joel, there are cameras here.” You warn, then throw your head back with amusement. It didn’t matter to you that there were cameras here. You didn’t care, but you did care about the possibility of someone walking down the stairwell and seeing your boyfriend acting like a man starved of your touch. He stopped with the exaggerated movements in his hips, but continued to grind into you at a subtle and barely noticeable pace. It was nice and delicate, pleasurable.

Upon reaching the second floor and entering the corridor, you and Joel keep the noise down as you approach your apartment. As well as the fact that there are other people here and you don’t want to disturb them, Scarlett will be in bed fast asleep for work tomorrow and you don’t want to disturb her either. She awakes in the early hours of the morning just like yourself, arriving at work sometimes as early as four o’clock. Even though she probably wouldn’t mind you accidentally making too much noise, you keep in mind that the woman needs her sleep just like everyone else does.

After unlocking your front door quietly and slipping inside with Joel, you make your way to your kitchen while he locks up for you. The apartment was in complete total darkness and Scarlett's door was shut, which only confirmed that she was indeed fast asleep and you should keep the noise down to a minimum. While you grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge, Joel entered your bedroom and made himself at home. You found the man sitting on the edge of your bed, his socks and shoes already removed along with his shirt. He was in the middle of unfastening his belt before you kindly offered to do it for him. “Let me help with that,” you whispered.

Moving across the room and placing the bottles of water and your phone on the bedside table, you watch the man lean back onto his hands and spread his legs apart, giving you more access as you kneel to the floor and nestle between his thighs. As you get into position for him, he looks down at you with a smile on his face, his hair slightly dishevelled as you reach out to open his belt. You feel his muscles tense in his thighs and hear the way his breath hitches, a soft grunt caught in the back of his throat. “You alright up there, stud?” You ask quietly, seduction rolling off your tongue. “You’re looking a little hot.”

“Mmm. M-hm,” Joel hums deeply, not confirming nor denying your statement about the way he looks. He didn’t need to. You were right and he knows it. He was burning up under your touch, the placement of your hands directly over his crotch making the blood rush straight to his cock. You look up at him with doe-like eyes, a suggestive look in your expression as the position you’re sitting in gives you naughty ideas. “You know, while I’m down here,” you begin to say, but pause briefly when he smirks, “Do you want me to…” you poke your tongue into your cheek, then watch as he palms himself and groans softly, no doubt picturing you sucking him off.

“I um-” he clears his throat, snapping out of his train of thought, “-I’d love that babydoll, but you know how I can get quite vocal when you…” he stops mid-sentence when noticing the slight disappointment in your eyes. You love to take care of Joel, and he knows how much to like it too, but he’s right. He can get really vocal when your mouth is stuffed full, gulping back as many loads as he can offer. The man just wants to be respectful of your roommate and neighbours, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want you. He leaned forward and the swiftness in his movements took your breath away. “Sit on my lap instead,” he offers an alternative, “Gotta stay quiet, don’t we girl?” he growls, his voice deep with hunger to feel your warmth wrapped around him, “I’ll bury my face into your tits. That’ll keep me quiet.”

“Mmm Joel…” you bite your lip, stifling a moan, “Don’t tease me with a good time now, baby.”

“No teasing, darlin’,” he shakes his head, his tone firm. “Get up here already,” he reaches out for you, his impatience evident in the way he sweeps you off the floor and pulls you onto his lap. The action makes you want to cry out a moan of his name, but you fight the urge and grip onto his biceps instead, steadying yourself as he drags your hips over his crotch deliberately. He pats your ass twice, silently telling you to lift up for him, which you do without hesitation and then feel him yanking his jeans down eagerly to free himself from the confines of his boxers. You physically hear his cock spring back and slap his lower stomach, the sound was audible and sexy, but now that he was free of his clothes, he turned his attention to your clothes.

Taking your shirt off hastily along with your bra, you throw the clothing over your shoulder and reach for your skirt before he suddenly grabs your hands. “No, not that,” he whispers, then looks into your eyes, “Keep that on for me, doll. I like the way it looks on yer,” he says. You nod to him, panting slightly under your breath with anticipation as you stand up to remove your panties. They couldn’t have come off any quicker before you took a seat back on Joel’s lap, feeling his cock pressing into your slicked folds made you stifle a whine.

He licked the tip of his fingers and coated his cock with his spit, holding you steady to notch himself at your entrance. “Ready, sweetheart?” He asks, and waits patiently for your answer. Joel usually spends a lot of time preparing you for the stretch, getting you ready for him with his head between your legs extracting as many orgasms as you can give, but not tonight - tonight you need him desperately.

“Yes, baby,” you breathe, nodding fervently. He eased himself inside before holding your hips with a tight grip, letting you take over and direct the pace. The breach was most enjoyable, your walls stretching open to accommodate his size as you sit down on his cock, causing the man to grunt and choke on his moans of pleasure before it inevitably became too much and he had to bury his face into your breasts.

You, on the other hand, had to bite the back of your palm, muffling all your pretty little whines and whimpers as you took him inside. His size was impressive, no matter how many times you’ve taken him before, it’s always a pleasant stretch. After you had taken him whole, still struggling to keep quiet as well as him, he was yet to pull his face away from your boobs. Joel breathed raggedly, savouring the sensation of your warmth wrapped around him and the tightness of your cunt squeezing his cock. You were soaking wet, the desire oozing out of you coating the hairs on his mound.

He was so hot. You could feel his face burning into your chest, the sweat beginning to gather along his brow as you continued to clench around him purposely. Rocking back and forth once before coming to an abrupt stop at the sound of your bed hitting the wall, the man huffs frustratedly into chest and grabs handfuls of your ass, “Hold on,” he warns seconds before standing up with you held in his arms, the action making you gasp with pleasure. It was loud. Unintentionally loud and you instantly worried about waking up your roommate. “Hang on, darlin’. I got an idea,” he says before walking toward your bathroom.

After carefully closing the door behind him, he moved toward the sink and sat you down on the edge, hoping the new location would muffle the noise a little better. “You good?” He asks once again before picking up where you left off. You wrap your legs around his back, pulling him into you before resting your head to his shoulder. “Yes.. God yes. Please Joel,” you beg, needing to feel him fuck you just the way you like it. He could sense that desperation in your voice and knew exactly what you were asking for. What you were really in need of.

There’s a time and a place to make love, but this isn’t that time nor the place. You want it rough, and he didn’t keep you awake any longer. Hooking his arms under your legs and locking his hands together around your back, the position bending your body to his will, he buried his chin into the nook of your neck before pulling out of your cunt, leaving only the tip inside. You braced yourself for the thrust, knowing it was going to be breath-taking.

Only it wasn’t. Instead, he damn near punched the air out of your lungs when he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion before pulling out and repeating the action. You could barely breathe and you loved it. You loved hearing his balls slapping against your ass and the deep grunts of satisfaction escaping his lips as speared into you. His voice was so broken and guttural, the sound making you mewl into his neck.

He kept his thrust short and fast, using the hairs on his mound to stimulate your clit and bring you towards that familiar peak. It was too much, yet equally not enough at the same time. His pace was wild and untamed, as if using your pussy for his own satisfaction. You fought to stay quiet, and it was a battle that you were losing. The man quickly pulled his head back from your neck to clamp his hand over your mouth and silence your mewling cries of pleasure.

“Nnghh… much better,” he smirks, panting a praise “That’s a good fucking girl. Taking me so well, Y/N. Aren’t yer?” He asks, and you nod frantically, moaning as your cunt gushes around him. “I need yer to come for me darlin’. C’mon, you can do it.”

Your vision begins to blur as you let go, the peak of your climax hurtling toward you so quickly that you felt light and weightless, limp in his arms. It was extreme and intense, ecstasy taking over your entire body as you felt a burst of liquid escape you, the essence of your orgasm drenching his legs.

“Fuck,” He growls, his brows knitting together tightly. “Keep soaking me, darlin’. C’mon,” he says, and continues with the punishing thrusts in and out of your cunt, drawing out every ounce of desire you could possibly give.

The man panted and moaned victoriously, his voice resonating a heavy sense of pride to make you squirt all over him. “Oh shit, shit!” He coos pathetically, pulling out at the last second and releasing his warmth all over your pussy. You rested your head to his chest, looking down at his cock and watched him spill ropes upon ropes of his seed. It was twitching, the prominent veins along his length bulging and his balls pulling up each time he released a creamy white load. “Ohh fuuck,” he breathes and rubs the tip through your folds, smearing the mess he made. “Goddamn. That was… fuck, that was beautiful.” He lifts your head to look in your eyes, “You’re so beautiful, Y/N… Are you ok?” He asks.

“Yeah baby,” you nod, your eyes slowly closing with exhaustion as you rest your cheek against his check. He reaches behind you and runs the tap, grabbing one of your hand towels on the rail to hold it under the water. “Give me a second. We’ll go lay down after I take care of this,” he says, bringing the wet towel between your legs to clean you off, the contact of his hand making you whine. “M’sorry, sweetheart,” he says apologetically, knowing that you're overstimulated.

After he was finished taking care of you, he wiped down his legs too and laid a couple more towels on the floor to soak up the mess before wiping it down as much as he could. He picked up the items and placed them in the laundry basket by the door, making sure the place was somewhat clean. It made you smile to watch him not only take care of you, but your apartment too.

“Thank you, handsome,” you reach out and hold his arms before moving off the countertop, the wobbly feeling in your legs making you fall into him. “Jesus. I haven’t felt like this in a little while. Walk with me babe, I don’t trust my legs right now.” You laugh bashfully, the sweet sound of your voice making the man chuckle with you.

Walking back into the bedroom with him holding you closely, he pulled the covers back on your bed and together, you climbed in. The very moment you got comfy, your phone chimed and lit up the entire room. You sighed worryingly and instantly assumed the worst. “Shit. Please say I haven’t woken you up,” you mutter under your breath, hoping that it wasn’t Scarlett texting to say that you and Joel were too noisy and now she is awake.

Grabbing your phone off the bedside cabinet and looking at the screen with a pang of guilt, you lay back into Joel’s side and show him. “Ah fuck,” he sighs with the same sense of guilt as you. It was Scarlett texting, and you unlocked your phone to read the message together. ‘Hey, gorgeous. I know it’s super late, but Jake called after you left with Joel. I’m staying at his place tonight so don’t wait up for me. Love you.’

Silence befell you and Joel upon reading that message. Not a single word was spoken, but the humorous little smiles on your lips as you both shook your head spoke loud and clear.

All that effort to stay quiet and she wasn’t even home to begin with.

Tagging

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50calmadeuce · 20 days ago

Text

Ch. 43: Court - Chuck

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

After Max stepped down from the witness stand, Mr. Dunby rose and addressed the judge. "Your Honor, I'd like to call Chuck McAllistar to the stand."

Chuck stood up, adjusted his shirt, and made his way to the witness stand. After being sworn in, he settled into the chair, his posture solid and composed.

Mr. Dunby approached him with a calm demeanor. "Mr. McAllistar, could you please state your occupation for the court?"

Chuck nodded. "I’m the ranch hand for Dr. Seresin."

Dunby continued, "And how long have you been working for Dr. Seresin?"

"Going on five years now."

"And during that time, did you have any interaction with Dr. Stryker?"

Chuck's jaw tightened. "Yes, I did."

Dunby leaned forward slightly. "Could you explain the nature of that interaction?"

Chuck took a deep breath before replying. "When I first met Dr. Seresin, it was when she was working on the grant in Wyoming. We met at the sale of my two horses and she had offered me a job. That evening we had decided to go to the fair. It was there I saw Dr. Stryker attempt to kiss Dr. Seresin."

"Dr. Stryker attempted to kiss Dr. Seresin? Can you describe what happened?"

Chuck nodded. "Yeah. We were at the fair, just enjoying the evening. Dr. Stryker showed up and asked Dr. Seresin to dance. A slow song came on, and I noticed him pulling her closer. Her eyes were closed, but I had a feeling she wasn’t thinking about Dr. Stryker. After the dance, Dr. Seresin looked up at him, and that’s when he leaned in to kiss her. I knew something wasn’t right, so I called out her name. She must’ve realized it too because she quickly hurried over to me."

Dunby gave Chuck an encouraging nod before asking, "And what was Dr. Seresin's reaction after that? Did she say anything to you about what happened?"

Chuck shifted slightly in his seat, thinking back. "She looked shaken up, like she hadn’t expected it. When she came over to me, she just said she didn’t want to make a scene and that she’d handle it professionally. But I could tell she was uncomfortable."

Dunby took a moment, then asked, "And after that night, did Dr. Stryker continue to pursue her?"

Chuck shook his head. "Not really, but we were packing up to leave a few days later."

Dunby nodded, absorbing Chuck’s response. "So, after that incident at the fair, you and Dr. Seresin decided to leave Wyoming?"

"Yeah," Chuck confirmed. "She had finished up the work she needed to do, and we were ready to head back. It was clear she didn’t want to stick around any longer than necessary."

Dunby paused, then asked, "Did Dr. Stryker attempt to contact Dr. Seresin again after you left Wyoming?"

Chuck’s face tightened. "Not that I'm aware. I do know Dr. Seresin made a few trips to Texas to work on the book, but I'm not sure what happened while there."

Dunby nodded, processing Chuck's response before continuing. "So, you weren’t involved in any of the interactions between Dr. Seresin and Dr. Stryker during her trips to Texas for the book?"

"No," Chuck replied. "I stayed behind on the ranch during those trips. Dr. Seresin didn't mention anything specific about what happened while she was there, just that it was related to the project they were working on."

Dunby took a breath and then asked, "Did Dr. Seresin ever express any concerns about Dr. Stryker during those trips?"

Chuck shook his head. "She didn’t talk much about him, other than the work. But I got the sense she was focused on finishing the book and moving on."

Dunby glanced at the judge before turning to the jury. "No further questions, Your Honor."

As Dunby sat down, Mr. Rowe stood up and slowly approached Chuck, a contemplative look on his face.

Mr. Rowe approached Chuck with measured steps, giving him a calculating look before speaking. "Mr. McAllistar, you said Dr. Seresin didn’t express any concerns about Dr. Stryker during her trips to Texas?"

Chuck nodded. "That's right."

Mr. Rowe tilted his head slightly. "And yet, despite not having witnessed anything inappropriate directly, you seem to hold a strong opinion about Dr. Stryker. Why is that?"

Chuck's jaw tightened slightly, his tone calm but firm. "I don't need to see something firsthand to know when something’s off. I saw how Dr. Seresin reacted to him that night at the fair. I don’t trust him, and after hearing what happened since, it seems I had good reason."

Mr. Rowe raised an eyebrow. "But as you mentioned, Dr. Seresin kept working with Dr. Stryker on the book, didn't she? Despite your 'concerns,' she continued her professional relationship with him."

Chuck gave a short nod. "Yeah, she did, but that doesn’t mean she trusted him. Sometimes you finish what you start because it's important to you, not because you trust the people you’re working with."

Rowe took a step back, considering Chuck's words. "So, in your opinion, Dr. Seresin wasn’t comfortable with Dr. Stryker, but she chose to continue working with him anyway?"

"That’s what it seemed like to me," Chuck replied simply.

"And the last trip to Wyoming?"

"Dr. Seresin again kept if professional. She was offered a different grant by the university and she took that instead of working with Dr. Stryker again. She was only asked to go back because the university noticed something wasn't right with Dr. Styker's work."

Rowe paused, studying Chuck for a moment. "So, Dr. Seresin made a conscious decision to distance herself from Dr. Stryker professionally by accepting a different grant. Yet, she was asked to return to Wyoming due to concerns with Dr. Stryker's work?"

Chuck nodded firmly. "Exactly. The university had suspicions about his work, and they wanted Dr. Seresin to help sort things out. She wasn’t there because she wanted to be, but because the situation called for it."

Rowe raised an eyebrow. "And during that time, was there any indication that Dr. Seresin was in danger or uncomfortable in his presence?"

Chuck's expression hardened. "She didn’t say anything specific to me, but I trust my gut."

"And while Dr. Seresin and her husband weren't talking, did she show any interest in anyone else?"

Chuck shook his head. "No. Doc isn't like that. She loved and still loves her husband. She concentrated on her work, but I know she still thought of her husband."

Rowe's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he kept his tone neutral. "So, despite their lack of communication, you're saying Dr. Seresin remained faithful to her husband?"

Chuck nodded firmly. "Absolutely. Even when they weren't talking, she never showed interest in anyone else. She was always thinking about the Lieutenant. Her work kept her busy, but her heart was still with him."

Rowe paused for a moment, then asked, "And you're confident in that assessment? You saw no signs that she might have wanted something different?"

Chuck met Rowe's gaze without wavering. "I’m confident. She loved and still loves the Lieutenant, and she was committed to him. That never changed."

"And she, during that time, would never sign a piece of paper stating that she wanted a divorce?"

Chuck shook his head emphatically. "No, absolutely not. Dr. Seresin would never have signed anything like that. She might have been hurt and feeling distant, but she always believed in their marriage. A divorce was never something she would have considered."

Rowe glanced at the jury, then continued, "So, to clarify, during the entire time that Dr. Seresin and her husband were not communicating, you’re saying that she remained loyal and devoted to him?"

"Yes," Chuck affirmed. "She was devoted to the Lieutenant. Even when things were tough, her heart was still with him."

"And this last time in Wyoming?"

"They had repaired their relationship and were working on preparing for their child."

"You mean Dr. Styker's child."

Chuck's expression hardened as he met Rowe's gaze. "No, I mean Dr. Seresin's child with Lieutenant Seresin. Dr. Stryker has no claim to that child. It was made clear that Y/N and Jake were working on their relationship and had plans for their future together."

Rowe raised an eyebrow, pushing further. "So you're saying that Dr. Seresin was actively planning a future with her husband despite everything that had happened?"

Chuck's voice rose slightly with conviction. "Of course she was! Y/N never stopped loving the Lieutenant. They were working on mending their relationship, and the thought of having their child brought them even closer. Dr. Stryker was just a bump in the road—Y/N always had her heart set on the Lieutenant."

Rowe tried to regain control of the narrative. "But during their time apart, wouldn’t you agree that she might have been influenced by other relationships?"

Chuck shook his head vehemently. "No, not at all. Y/N was focused on her work and coping with her loss. She never expressed any interest in anyone else, and it was clear that her loyalty remained with the Lieutenant."

Rowe sighed, seemingly frustrated. "So you're saying that despite the emotional turmoil, Dr. Seresin never wavered in her commitment to her husband?"

"That’s exactly what I’m saying," Chuck replied, his tone resolute. "She loved him, and that love didn’t fade just because they had difficulties. They were committed to each other, and they were working through their issues together."

Rowe looked at Chuck, searching for any sign of doubt, but finding none. "Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor."

As Chuck stepped down, you felt a surge of pride for him standing up for you and Jake. You knew the truth of your relationship, and it was comforting to see others recognize that too.

Just then, you heard Mr. Dunby’s cell phone buzz, and he glanced at it before addressing the judge. "Your Honor, if we could take a few minutes at your request, I’m able to connect with Lieutenant Jake Seresin via a conference call."

The judge rapped his gavel. "Let's take a fifteen-minute break so we can set that up."

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @devil-angel-winchester

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covid-safer-hotties · 2 months ago

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By Michael T. Kelly

On June 12, New York Gov. Kathy Hochul expressed support for a mask ban on subways and at protests while other politicians in New York City, Los Angeles and North Carolina are considering or have already passed laws that ban masks in public spaces. Disability, civil liberties and other activists have raised alarm regarding how mask bans, even with formal exemptions for health and religious reasons, offer no guarantee of fair enforcement and can stigmatize masking in general during an ongoing pandemic. This said, I argue that we should oppose mask bans due to two vital functions.

Firstly, banning masks will enable easier surveillance of oppressed groups. Surveillance technology to catch protesters has increased around the world in light of the visible outpouring of support for the pro-Palestine movement. Additionally, activists have used masks to protect themselves from repression, surveillance and doxing by right-wing provocateurs.

To quell campus movements, police and administrators have threatened protesters in Florida, Ohio and Texas with arrest for wearing masks. Students at several colleges face code of conduct charges for pro-Palestine protests, and there has been explicit targeting on prospects for future employment and student loan forgiveness. Indeed, these acts are consistent with the United States’ long record of state surveillance against Black, Indigenous, civil rights and anti-imperialist groups.

Secondly, mask bans downplay COVID-19 and thus avoid its social and political lessons. COVID-19 has been a world health crisis, taking the lives of at least seven million people globally and 1.2 million people in the U.S. COVID infections have risen in 38 states this summer, and some hospitals and venues have even reinstated mask mandates. Long COVID remains a widespread illness, affecting 6.8% of U.S. adults with fatigue, blood clots, lung, heart and neurological issues.

The first lesson of COVID some politicians are eager to bury is that combatting a contagious, airborne respiratory virus is inherently collective and interdependent. It requires a state-directed public health response. Discourses of individual responsibility, “choice” or risk assessment are ill-suited: Is the choice to not mask based on accurate information? Does this choice impinge on other people’s freedom to inhabit public space? Would a mandate affirm a social right to protect oneself and others from illness and make spaces more accessible?

While many people in the U.S. may have had COVID and been asymptomatic or recovered, this is simply not the case for many immunocompromised people, who have suffered isolation, hospitalization and death at significantly higher rates. As disability justice authors have long pointed out, people with disabilities always face the burden of adjusting their lives against an assumed, ableist normal. No assurance of masking effectively endangers many immunocompromised and high-risk people. Under the social model of disability, institutional neglect to enforce COVID mitigation is what creates disability as a form of social oppression.

The activist movements some politicians now condemn have led the way in public health practice. Participants at the Columbia University student encampment wore masks, while people with disabilities and activists have engaged in education and tough conversations regarding the importance of masking, even in leftist spaces.

Also, because COVID is a world-scale problem, it requires international cooperation that would weaken U.S. military, economic and geopolitical hegemony. In 2020, the U.S. and European Union blocked a proposal at the World Trade Organization to waive intellectual property (IP) protections so Global South nations could begin building productive capacity for vaccines and medical technology. Intellectual property regimes and patents have been a mainstay of U.S. policy since World War II through trade agreements and multilateral banking institutions like the International Monetary Fund and World Bank. Patent holders can hoard technology and resources that Global South nations might otherwise access freely or more cheaply. This financial power allows the U.S. to impose unilateral economic sanctions on official enemy states – Venezuela, Iran, Syria, North Korea, Nicaragua and Zimbabwe – which block medicine, food and technology, harming the population. Moves away from masking and COVID awareness further downplay the ongoing urgency to end IP and sanctions regimes for the sake of global public health.

Thus, structural changes to U.S. society are needed to address the underlying social conditions that spread illness. We can learn from the 1951 Civil Rights Congress’ We Charge Genocide petition that defined genocide as the “willful creation of conditions making for premature death, poverty and disease.”

On housing, failure to extend eviction moratoria in 2021 – a gift to landlords and real estate capital who treat homes as financial assets or sources of rent revenue – led to over 10,000 additional deaths. On criminal justice, there were calls to decarcerate as prisons are incubators of COVID, and continue questioning the social function of prisons at all. On employment, vulnerability to COVID in the workplace helped catalyze a wave of labor organizing. By downplaying COVID and banning masks, its most visible reminder, politicians help bury these important lessons.

Universities remind students and staff that their policies are consistent with county, state and CDC legal guidelines. But adherence to the U.S. Government’s public health orders is not sufficient when laws are inadequate or unjust. We can and should define our own ethos around disability, national and social liberation. Mask mandates, political education on who is vulnerable as well as public health measures to provide masks can enlist, educate and organize people toward that political project. Legislation that does not protect the vulnerable needs opposition. People should be enabled and encouraged to think for themselves when it comes to contemplating the extent to which lawmakers have the responsibility to protect their constituency.

#mask up #covid #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #public health #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator #disability justice

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thedroneranger · 1 year ago

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Second Breakfast

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: It's a rare occasion that Jake gets to cook breakfast for Mrs. Seresin. After sharing a full spread, Jake is still hungry for another kind of spread...

Notes: By popular demand, here are Jake and Mrs. Seresin's breakfast exploits. Part of the To-do List collection.

Warnings: 18+ only; smut.

Word count: 2.5k.

The unmistakable aroma of bacon hit her nostrils first. Then the distinct smell of eggs and Texas toast painted the full picture of what Chef Jake was cooking.

Eyes still closed, she took a slow deep breath. Simultaneously, she stretched her legs, tensing her tush and pointing her toes. Her arms crossed over her head until her palms were each cradling the opposite elbow as she stretched.

Everything relaxed as she exhaled and cautiously opened her eyes. Fortunately, Jake had opened the curtains but left the diffusers closed, so the morning sun illuminated the room without searing her pupils.

She was hard pressed to leave the warmth of their bed, but the meal Jake was cooking smelled absolutely amazing. And it wasn’t often that he cooked for her. Mainly because she loved cooking for him. Helping her in the kitchen over the years, he’d picked up a few things. However, he was no slouch when they first met, and breakfast had always been his specialty.

Finally bringing herself to sit up, she saw her short kimono laying at the foot of the bed. A gift from Jake that he picked up on his first deployment to Iwakuni since they’d been together. A soft smile graced her lips as she slipped out of bed and cloaked her naked form. Tying it, she drifted downstairs.

Nearing the kitchen, she could hear the muted sizzle of bacon in the oven, and Jake singing Johnny Cash to himself. He was standing at the stove with his back to her. For a minute, she leaned on the door jamb, arms crossed over her chest, watching Jake as he concentrated to make sure each slice of French toast was evenly browned.

Always one to live life on the edge, he was cooking shirtless. Gray sweatpants slung low. She soaked in every dimple, muscle ripple and scar on his back.

Still unnoticed, she headed in his direction, making just enough noise he knew she was coming. “Good morning,” he said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to his shoulder blade. Eventually, she slipped under his arm as he continued to monitor the toast.

She replied, her voice still gravelly with sleep. Jake’s smile widened as he leaned down to kiss her. “Your morning voice gets me hard.”

It was her turn to smile as she let her fingers skim the waistband of his sweats and follow the hollow of his Adonis belt. Her lips grazed his pec. “Can’t believe you're serving bacon instead of sausage.” Her fingers confirmed he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Jake shook his head slightly as she looked at him through her lashes, cheek pressed to his chest. “Sausage is reserved for breakfast in bed.” She scrunched her nose at him. “Maybe you can have some later.” Indirectly adjusting himself, Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Mulling over his offer, she kissed his pec before slipping out of his grasp.

He had a fleeting thought to abandon the French toast. However, it was so close to perfection, it’d be a shame to ruin it.

Steps ahead of her, Jake already had two places set on the kitchen island. Looking to contribute something, she poured cranberry mimosas—one of Jake’s favorites, which he would never admit in public.

She and Jake met at their seats. Jake with heaping plates in hand and her with drinks. After setting down the food, he helped her into her chair. His hand lingered on her bare thigh and he closed the distance between their lips. He tasted like maple syrup.

Before things got too heated, Jake slipped into the chair beside her. He adjusted their chairs so she was tucked between his legs, facing him. Their plates sat cozily close on the counter as they ate.

Jake had finished his last piece of bacon, and before he could do anything, she grabbed his wrist. He watched as she brought his hand to her lips. She kept eye contact with him as she licked the bacon grease off his fingers. He shuttered when the full lengths of his index and middle fingers disappeared into her mouth and reappeared with a pop.

Before Jake could react, she dropped his hand, swiveled her chair away from him and slipped off it to take their plates to the dishwasher. Jake grumbled to himself about her escape and finished his drink while he sulked.

He watched as she tidied the kitchen. There wasn’t a whole lot for her to do since Jake cleaned as he cooked. But always a tease, she wiped down the entire island counter except the surface within reach of Jake. “You’re a minx.” He sipped his drink as she glanced in his direction.

“And?” She leaned one palm on the counter and the other on her hip. Her eyebrow quirked. He couldn’t help but smile as he sipped his mimosa and stared at her. Her lip rolled between her teeth before she broke her stance to walk back to the sink.

The minute her back was to him, he jumped off his stool and pressed his entire body against her, pinning her against the sink. “Jake!” She squeaked and gripped the sink edge as he kissed her neck and shoulder. One hand on the counter to support his weight, he slipped the other under her thin robe.

Jake knew she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, but finding out firsthand got his blood pumping. She whined as he bit her neck, and then she pressed back into him, earning a growl. His hand journeyed between her legs. “I’m still hungry.” His teeth sank into the flesh where her neck and shoulder met as his fingers slipped between her folds.

“Why don’t you eat something?” She barely made her quip before Jake’s thick finger sank into her.

“I wanna play with my snack first.” He nipped the shell of her. She moaned and pressed harder against him as his finger curled inside her. Jake continued to trail kisses on her jaw and neck.

As she arched her back and rose onto the balls of her feet, Jake slipped in a second finger. He continued to pepper her with kisses and bites as she rode his fingers. Every so often a “good girl” or “just like that” would leave Jake’s lips.

The little whines and moans she made had him throbbing. Surely she could feel him pulsing through the thin fabric of their garments. The added sensation of her silk robe on his bare chest had Jake breathing a little heavier.

Since she was pressing hard enough against him to hold his body weight, Jake used his support hand to quickly drop his sweatpants and shimmy her robe up enough he could slide into her from behind. An audible gasp left her as he spread her with his slick fingers to allow himself entry.

“Oh my God!” She arched her back more as Jake’s fingers transitioned to making tight circles on her engorged clit.

“Jake is always fine, baby.” He grinned against her ear. An overdone joke that always made them both smile. Right now, the best she could manage was a strangled moan as Jake thrust into her, bottoming out each time. His hips and fingers kept pace with each other.

Based on how her muscles were tensing, Jake knew she was close. “C’mon, baby. Cum for me,” he coaxed. As she tipped over the edge, she fell forward, palms first into the sink to brace herself. Jake’s body followed hers. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he had one hand in the sink beside hers to keep from crushing her as they rode out her orgasm together.

Jake’s free hand across her pelvis to help steady her. She turned her head to kiss his cheek, but Jake also turned and captured her lips instead. As they kissed, Jake languidly thrusted into her—he was still painfully hard.

“Fuck me, Jake,” she said against his lips. He pulled back just enough to look at her. “Fuck me, and then you can have a cream-filled snack.” Jake actually laughed out loud, which gave her the biggest grin. He couldn’t help it—he never quite knew what to expect from her.

After the initial shock, Jake carefully stepped out of his sweats pooled on the floor, and one-arm carried her over to the island. Carefully, he bent her over one of the barstools, so her forearms were resting on it. “That’s it, baby.” His hand squeezed the back of her neck as she settled in.

Jake slid back into her, earning the sweetest moan. He was in heaven as he continued with long thrusts. She whined each time he bottomed out, which kept him going.

Eyes closed, she tossed her head back and bit her bottom in an attempt to hold back some of her sounds. Jake leaned forward, hand still on her neck. “Don’t hold back, baby.”

Then he let his hand slide down the silk fabric along the curve of her back. At her hip, his hand slipped around her front, under her robe and his fingers teased her clit. She keened, and her eyes shot open. Jake grinned and continued to work his fingers.

“You keep this up, and I’m coming again.” She punctuated the statement with a moan.

“You know the ratio is two-to-one,” he reminded her. When it came to pleasure, Jake always put her first. He made her come first and often—always.

“But this is for you.” She moaned again as his pace quickened.

“Your grip is getting me there. Add a couple good squeezes, baby. For me, please,” Jake pleaded. Almost Pavlovian, she immediately clenched around him—once, then twice. He grunted and pressed his chest to her back.

His hand, perched on the stool seat beside her so he didn’t crush her, curled around her middle to hold her close as he came. He nuzzled his face into her neck as his hips stuttered. She felt his release as she clenched around him a third time for good measure. “Yes, baby,” he whispered against her neck.

As he came down, Jake continued to swirl figure eights on her overly sensitive clit, which led to her second orgasm. She pushed onto her toes, trying to escape Jake’s touch. He smiled into the crook for her neck as he continued to touch her. She whimpered from the over stimulation and feeling their mixed fluids begin to drip down her thigh.

Jake swiped up the dribble with his knuckle, and then stuck it in his mouth. “Mmmmm.” He smacked his lips as he removed it. Then he planted a wet kiss on her neck before untangling himself from her.

“Time for my snack.” He winked as they transitioned, so she was sitting on the island, her legs parted. Jake stood between her knees and let his palms run from her knees to her hips. She looked at him with a smirk, as she leaned back—palms supporting her.

Wordlessly, Jake hooked his index finger in the sash of her robe and tugged until it came loose. They both watched as the strip of fabric fell to her sides. Jake ran two fingers along the opening of her robe, parting the fabric to expose her naked form. He licked his lips as her peaked nipples appeared.

He smiled when saw her pussy—slick with their mixed arousal. “You’re so gorgeous.” He pressed his lips to hers. She whined into the kiss as he bit her. “Sometimes I can't believe I get to spend forever with you.” He dropped his head to her chest, taking a nipple in his mouth.

She responded with a long moan and carded her fingers through his hair. She tilted her head back and enjoyed the sensations of his tongue swirling her areola and his teeth tugging her nipple.

As Jake moved to mouth her other breast, she kneaded the first one. Jake’s hand slipped between her legs, two fingers sinking in her core. Languidly, he come-hithered. She squirmed, putting her palm back on the counter so she had more leverage to meet his motions.

Jake released her breast with a pop. At the same time, he pulled his fingers from her. She whined and leaned forward. He made her watch as he licked his digits clean. Then he pressed his lips to hers. She hungrily kissed him back, tasting herself.

His hands were back on her legs, traveling up her thighs and then her hips until he was cupping her ass. All the while he trailed kisses down her jaw, neck, chest and stomach until he was eye-level with her heat.

To allow him better access, she placed her heels on the counter, spreading her knees wide. “That’s my girl,” Jake cooed. His eyes grew a little rounder as he saw their mixed fluids seeping from her.

With the tip of his nose, Jake traced her lower lips. Then he planted a kiss on each before he laved his broad tongue back and forth. “You taste so good.” He hummed as he looked up at her—his chin glistening. He leaned back down to place a chaste kiss on her cleft. With his middle and index fingers, he spread her wider, suctioning his lips around her swollen nerves.

She whined with pleasure and held her own knees back so she didn’t clamp her thighs around his head. Jake loved being hugged by her thighs, but selfishly, she wanted a full view of what he was doing. Slowly, Jake slid his mouth further down until he reached her hole.

He continued to suck, getting a mouthful of his own cum. The feeling made her sit up a little straighter and anchor her fingers in his locks. “Jake.” She drew out his name as he continued to pull his own seed from her.

Mouth full, Jake patted her thigh, so she let him up. He immediately covered her mouth with his, swirling his tongue and their fluids around as they made out. They both ignored the strings of saliva and cum dripping down their chins onto her chest and the countertop.

Jake pulled her to the edge of the counter, forcing her to sit up straighter. Her biceps rested on his shoulders and her finger twirled in his hair. As they separated, Jake ran his thumb across her kiss-swollen lip. She couldn’t help but smile at his gesture.

“Do you know how sweet you taste?” He stared at her.

“It’s the maple syrup, baby.” She leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose. He pulled her against his chest. She hummed, contentedly nuzzled under his chin. “Let’s go shower before we’re sticky.”

He kissed the top of her head before he helped her off the counter, then they walked hand-in-hand upstairs. "Can we do that again?" Jake ask as they walked. "I liked having two meals."

She bit her lip as she pondered. "Make me waffles, and we'll talk."

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A kind reminder: Likes work hard, but reblogs and comments work harder 😈

The Bradshaw Baddie™ Bunch: @cherrycola27, @roosterforme, @galaxy-of-stories, @taytaylala12, @malindacath, @violyn20, @awildewit, @potato-girl99981, @shanimallina87, @i-simp-much, @blue-aconite, @djs8891, @linkpk888, @furiousladyking, @daggerspare-standingby, @princess76179, @jstarr86, @hecate-steps-on-me, @darkheartcherry, @soulmates8, @roosters-girl, @dempy, @roostette, @mayhemmanaged, @blueoorchid, @desert-fern, @munsonswhore86, @hangmanscoming, @s-u-t, @mavrellover91, @chicomonks, @averyhotchner, @bradshawseresinbabe, @penguin876, @genius2050, @xoxabs88xox

#top gun maverick #top gun #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #seresin to do list #to do list collection #to do list series #jake x mrs. seresin

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crestviewpas-blog · 2 years ago

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Texas Public Adjuster - Crestview Public Adjusters

If you shouldn't be managing your own insurance claims. With less stress, Crestview retrieves MORE money. Allow the professionals at Crestview Public Adjusters to safeguard your most valuable asset and optimise your allowed insurance claims in Texas.

#Best Public Adjusters #Public Adjuster Texas #Texas Public Adjuster

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wildpeachfarm · 7 months ago

Note

https://youtu.be/0_42ZKZAVL0?si=vjETXN8vJ3K-WZDJ This is another person addressing the gogcident and while it does not need to be discussed anymore, I think she makes very good points on how this situation will probably change networking and how ccs interact bc they will be a lot more cautious especially around ccs younger than them and also even if they think they did nothing wrong they could be accused of crimes.

She briefly touch on the what happened with that Texas person accusing G of misogyny for not responding to her and how by making that claim she’s going against what feminists are fighting so hard for.

Also happy birthday :DD

oooh interesting

I think its a very unique perspective but one that will probably show to be true in the future! Networking with younger adult CCs has just been proven to potentially turn into a blown-out insane SA accusation that resulted in public harassment to both parties and the damaging of careers. No one is ever going to want to take a chance like that again especially when there is the chance of them lying about their ages for alcohol too. You have no idea of the next person you talk to in a party setting could be a horribly-adjusted and sheltered adult like caiti.

And yeah by throwing around the word misogyny in that situation she is literally watering it down to "being ignored" and potentially ruining the weight of the word that modern feminism has tried to hard to preserve. So Sophie is kinda hurting her future self by reducing "feminism" to a pointless little ignore in a group setting when no one owes you a conversation. That's something that some of these CCs need to realize and be humbled by: while george did not intend to ignore her, he doesn't OWE her conversation nor does anyone. They are not owed attention just because they want it.

youtube

#ask #anon #anti drummyache tag

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 10 months ago

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Just Like A Kiss

a follow up story to Texas Peach 1700 words, Jensen Ackles x Jared Padalecki Author's note at the end

***

Jared flinched.

At the last moment, before their lips met, he flinched and turned away.

Jensen knew he would, of course. Because you don't kiss your best friend and costar in front of a crowd of adoring fangirls. Because the joke was too close to the truth.

In real life, it had all played out in a minute, but in Jensen's memory, the moments lingered, time slowing and stretching around the two of them.

"...same with a kiss," Jensen had answered an audience question, adding a little smirk as he pointed. Convention crowds ate up that swagger.

"Prove it." Jared hadn't seemed to be paying attention, fidgeting with his fingers to demonstrate a taco crumbling. But he was completely focused, suddenly, as he turned to Jensen, their gazes locked together. Mischief glinted in Jared's eyes, sparkling in their green-gold-grey depths. His pupils were wide with a familiar look of adoration and desire.

Jared's heart must've been beating out of his chest because Jensen could feel his pulse quiver in the air between them, or maybe that was his own blood pounding through his veins.

Emotion hit, flooding down a well-worn path in his mind. The longing for Jared was almost overwhelming, the pull to hold him, to have more than he had ever dared in public. All these years, and the feeling hadn't weakened, no less compelling for being familiar.

His eyes flicked down to Jared's mouth, pouted out in an exaggerated pucker. He wet his own lips, quick and shallow, thinking about Jared's tongue meeting his own, about all the places that mouth had been. Their bodies drew together, each of them leaning to the right, arms already lifting for an easy embrace. Jared's body he knew almost as well as his own, moving in sync without speaking.

As the gap closed between them, their hands brushed against each other and Jensen felt the touch like a spark.Anger flared in his chest and his jaw clenched. Why couldn't he have what he wanted, have Jared and kiss him, whenever and wherever, not caring who saw or knew?

Their eyes met again, and that's when Jared flinched.

The noise of the crowd, clapping and cheering, rushed back in as Jared gave a sassy hair flip and turned, away from Jensen, back to the people watching.

It should be me. I should be the one by your side, I should be the one that people see with you. You should be mine.

Jensen knew he couldn't reveal what he was feeling. He felt exposed, suddenly keenly aware of the gaze of so many eyes fixed on him, and cast around for a distraction. A wide easy smile and the fans moved right along from the missed kiss.

Jensen hadn't realized he was holding his breath, and sucked in air as he settled back in his chair. He kept the smile pasted on his face as he adjusted his seating. From the corner of his eye, even as he played to the audience, he noticed Jared pass a hand over his face, a subtle gesture giving him time to gather himself. The way he shifted in his chair, leaning back and tangling his legs, was a sure sign to Jensen that he was retreating.

Both of them knew the moment had left them vulnerable, their secret feelings just a little too easy to glimpse.

I wish I could show the world how much I care for you. Jensen sighed.

Instead they turned, shoulder to shoulder in wordless agreement, and they slipped back into the protection afforded by their public roles. The Handsome and Sunshine Show, Jensen had seen the tag on social media. It was a performance just as sure as any TV episode, but they had practice at it. The two of them were a good pair, he thought, as he let himself be carried along by the comforting rhythm of their stage interactions.

Jensen couldn't stop himself from returning to that moment in his mind, even as he and Jared completed their day of work at the convention. They had done this many times before, signed the autographs, walked through the photo ops, and the work came easily. He was able to focus on the people in front of him and almost – almost — forgot that Jared owed him a kiss.

Afterwards, they went out to dinner with a few of the cast, Rob and Ruth, Rich, Alex, and others. They were old friends, and they knew the truth of Jensen and Jared's relationship. In this company, they could relax a little more.

Still, even a private room at a restaurant could instantly turn public if they were spotted by a fan. The two of them kept their touches under the table, Jared running teasing long fingers up the inseam of Jensen's jeans until Jensen stopped him with a firm hand on his upper thigh. They laced their fingers together under the open placket of Jared's plaid shirt as they enjoyed their food and drinks.

More than once, Jensen found himself looking longingly at Jared's mouth as he laughed and talked, always the life of the party. Jared's heavy eyelids when he caught him staring left no doubt that he, too, was looking forward to the moment they would be alone together.

The close, cautious affection carried them through their goodbyes and into the elevator. There were no kisses behind closed doors, not when they could open on a new floor at any moment and anyone could see them. But Jensen couldn't stand to have any more distance between him and his boy. With a possessive hand on the back of his neck, he pulled Jared in close, ready to whisper in his ear. With Jared's hair tickling his cheek, he couldn't find any words to say, just held him like that as they breathed together.

When they reached their floor, Jensen shifted to an arm around Jared's shoulders as they exited the elevator. The two of them walked in silence, their steps in sync, to their shared suite.

Once inside, Jensen busied himself with the latch, the lock, the deadbolt, before turning to face Jared.

He was waiting, a teasing grin on his face that turned to pouty lips, a blown kiss.

"I'm gonna need you to finish what you started." Jensen heard the rough edge of desire undercut the direction in his own voice.

Jared's eyes widened, flashed, and he leaned down eagerly. Their lips met, dry and gentle, for a long kiss. Every bit of it was familiar, Jared's head tilt, his little sigh, the pressure of their mouths, their bodies together.

The second kiss was deeper, Jensen nudging at Jared's lips with his tongue, Jared parting them easily, welcoming him eagerly in. Jensen wrapped his arms tighter around Jared, one around his shoulders, the other around his waist, pulling him closer.

The second kiss turned into the third kiss without them ever breaking apart, and then shattered into countless more kisses. Jensen's lower hand slipped into Jared's plaid shirt, up under his t-shirt, until he could palm skin. His touch slid across the cut of his hip bone, fingers seeking that dip in the hollow of Jared's back, right above the curve of his peachy ass.

"So hot," he murmured against Jared's lips, and he must've heard him, because he pulled back just enough that their eyes could meet. Jensen's hand had been resting on the back of Jared's neck and he moved with a caress to cup his cheek, thumb tracing the soft short hair along his jawline, up and over to the dimples visible through his beard.

The two of them paused for a beat like that, forehead to forehead, arms wrapped around one another, chests rising and falling together. Jensen never got tired of being this close to his lover, looking up to see every sparkling color in his eyes, feeling every breath across his lips. The moment stretched, swelled, to include everything he had wanted in that second on stage earlier in this day, holding his world in his arms.

"Jared," the beloved name fell from his lips, ripe and heavy with desire.

"Please," was all Jared said, but his wide lust-blown eyes, his flushed cheeks, his parted lips spoke volumes, the truth writ large across his handsome face. Jensen had seen glimpses, all day, but this was the first time they were alone for Jared to bare his response, the two of them stripping down to the truth between them.

They had already had reunion sex the night before, clothes hastily thrown off in their eagerness to come together. They had slow sleepy bedtime sex, naked under the sheets before falling asleep in one another’s arms. And they had a moment in the shower this morning, no less good for being rushed.

This was something different. This was the connection that had sparked on stage, that had pulled thin, finally coming back together. Everything they couldn't show the public was laid bare.

This time, they were stripping down to their very souls. The burden of keeping up appearances, of their public stories, fell to the wayside in the face of their truth. The long days apart, the lonely nights, melted away under their touches.

With every touch, Jensen asked, Do you still want me just as much?

To every question, Jared answered, Yes.

The fragile bubble of their shared desire encompassed their entire world, no space for anything but the two of them. Much like the moment earlier, on stage, time became meaningless, measured in heartbeats rather than minutes. Only this time, instead of pulling away, Jared came to Jensen, unflinching in his intention, every kiss a promise fulfilled.

Their caresses were weighted with the knowledge that life would pull them apart again soon, but for now, they could not hear the clock ticking down. For now, they only existed in this room, in this bed, together. Jensen heard only Jared's panting moans, his whispered words of love and need.

Blood rushed in his ears and with every beat, his heart said, mine, mine, mine.

Jared answered back yours, yours, yours with every kiss.

*** Author's Note: First off a huge thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock who jumped in to pre-read for me! Thanks for keeping friendship and fandom alive between us. I know it's been a while since I've written. I still have ideas that are waiting for stories. Thanks for reading, both in the past and now.

#j2 #jensen ackles x jared padalecki #fangirlxwritesx67 #handsome and sunshine

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thebetterbrogane · 5 months ago

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I’m alive! I promise!

So, a lot happened since Thursday.

Like…. a LOT.

Firstly, I’ve gotten Keith’s blessing to make this information public: he and Lance are officially together.

Secondly, Keith had been enrolled at the east coast Garrison base in New York for the past FOUR YEARS, electing to continue his education and finally, officially, graduate from high school. When he dropped out of the Texas base, it was unofficial, and thus rendered his four years prior void and null in the eyes of the military. Considering that all four paladins got honorary yet still functional diplomas after the war ended, none of them worried about re-enrolling except for Keith. So, you could imagine my surprise when he showed up at the Texas base’s commencement ceremony in full graduation regalia. It was a shock and surprise to everyone, but he made valedictorian and never missed a “day” of school, in terms of online and in-person class hours. I’ve never been more proud of my little brother.

Thirdly, speaking of my little brother… we came to a, quite frankly, surprising discovery this weekend. Keith got diagnosed with a muscle disease like I was. Before you freak out, it’s non-fatal, and he’s adjusting to disabled life perfectly fine. This diagnosis, being the same as mine, was strange. He called me during one of his appointments to corroborate the information he had been giving to his doctor, and the doctor, upon seeing me over FaceTime, mused about how similar we looked for being adopted brothers, before going on to joke about how “maybe [muscle disease] runs in the family!” Keith’s spidey-senses had been triggered, and a week later (day after graduation), we sent in DNA samples.

Keith is my half-brother. My father is Texas (Teiji) Kogane.

So many questions were answered. My mother had never known about Keith’s past, and since Dad left when I was only three, she never cared to think about him much after that. She flew in from Izumisanto on Saturday, and upon meeting Keith in the Dallas airport (for the first time in years, mind you), she burst into tears upon recognizing him. They’ve spent the past two and a half days just talking about Dad, which was mostly just Keith retelling stories from when he was younger. Mom regrets not giving Dad any thought over the past thirty years. I took her and Keith to his grave to reconcile.

Keith and I’s relation doesn’t change the connections we’ve made over the past fifteen years; it only strengthens them, and I’m so happy to finally know the truth. Mom flies back home tomorrow, but in the meantime, I’ll be spending as much quality time with my family as I possibly can. My heart is so happy.

— Shiro ☆

#vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #broganes #texas kogane

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

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Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: I wanna take this time to thank everyone for continuing to read & support this story. I can't begin to express my gratitude & love for all of you! I feel like the updates for his story have been lacking a bit since I've been in school. Now I'm starting work this week, I'm afraid I'll become slower w/ updates, but I won't give up on his story. I love it so much. Even if it takes me till December to finish it, I WILL. I hope y'all enjoy! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

FOURTEEN: SWEET MEDICINE.

You wake up the next morning to a blinding light.

At first, you think the snake bite got you and you’ve officially entered the afterlife, but then you hear Gojo’s voice. He is laughing and singing, his voice loud and off-key. You also hear the sound of running water.

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself lying beneath the trees in the same spot you feel asleep in. You slowly sit up, naked underneath your blanket and your foot elevated. You’re not in any kind of pain from the bite. Surprisingly enough, you don’t feel anything, but that doesn’t scare you like it should.

Instead, you feel thirsty. You have a burning in your throat that can only be quenched with water. Any normal human being would simply go get water, so you do just that, not even paying any mind to the fact that you’re completely buttnaked. The early morning summer breeze cools your balmy skin as you walk through the forest, following the sound of the running water and Gojo’s awful singing.

When you finally make it to your destination, all thoughts of water suddenly leave you at the sight of your partners in crime soaking in the water. The trees have given away to a beautiful creek and waterfall where cool, refreshing-looking water rushes freely down into the creek Geto and Gojo occupy. The water luckily hits their waist, so you don’t see anything below.

You stand behind a tree with a thick tree trunk, shamelessly watching the outlaws scrub their arms and legs, sinewy with muscles and fine hair, with handmade soap and fern from pine leaves. Gojo faces you, his pecs and stomach glistening with water, while Geto has his big, muscular back to you.

“Would you please stop singin’ that song?” he groans, exasperated. “Other songs other than “Texas Hold ‘Em” exist, Satoru.”

Gojo laughs, his blue eyes glistening in the sunlight. “But it’s the only song that matters right now!” he protests. “Don’t act like it ain’t catchy!” He continues to sing, his voice echoing among the empty forest, as loud as the rushing water.

Geto shushes him, splashing him. “Keep your voice down! She’s probably still…” Gojo suddenly goes quiet, his eyes meeting yours across the way from where you stand. Geto turns around, his eyes aglow at the sight of you. “Oh, never mind.”

“Hey, you!” Gojo cheerily says, breaking out into a smile. “You woke up just in time! We’re almost done if you want a dip. How’s that foot doin’?” You don’t answer, instead silently staring at them. You greedily drink in their bodies, hardened and scarred by years of their outlaw lifestyle.

“Y/N?” Geto blinks at you, confused and worried about you not talking. Holding his beautiful, mahogany eyes with yours, you slowly reveal yourself to him and Gojo, stepping into the sunlight. Their lips part and their eyes widen at the sight of your naked body.

Slowly, you stumble towards them, but Geto quickly reaches over and stops you, his arms blocking you from walking any further into the creek. “Whoa, whoa, wait,” he protests. “What are you doin’, little miss?”

You twist toward him in his arms, smiling at the way the sunlight sparkles in his eyes. He’s so handsome. “You look so good,” you sigh. “I want you…want you to fuck me now.” Your hands trail down his chiseled chest, down his stomach, and farther down, down down—

Geto quickly grabs your wandering hands, stopping you from moving down any further. “Hold on just a sec,” he says. “W-We can’t–”

“He can join too,” you add, nodding at a shocked Gojo watching from afar. “I can handle two of y’all. Just let me show you…” You lean in towards the black-haired outlaw, your eyes trained on the same lips you felt on your body last night.

“Wait, Y/N, stop,” he firmly says. His expression is hard, but worried. “Don’t do this.” You take that as a sign of rejection. He doesn’t want you. Suddenly, you feel burned and your lip wobbles as a random rush of tears begins to break. “Don’t you want me?” you sniffle. “Don’t you…”

A sudden wave of nausea stops you from talking and you press a hand to your forehead, suddenly light-headed. Geto presses a hand to your back, rubbing it gently.

“Y/N?” he questions.

You open your eyes to look at two of them, but find there to be four, spinning and whirling and mixing into one another. “There’s four of you,” you giggle, gripping Geto’s forearms. “I-I feel funny.”

That’s the last thing you say before you feel yourself lose your head and fatigue fall over you. Your knees crumble and you go limp in Geto’s arms. “Y/N!” Geto shouts, that being the last thing you hear as darkness overtakes you.

*********

The next time you wake up, you see another blinding light. Now you really think you’re dead.

“Oh, good,” an unfamiliar, deep voice says. “You’re awake. I was so sure you wouldn’t wake up at all.”

When your eyesight adjusts, you turn your head to your head to find a handsome blonde man sitting in an armchair reading a book and drinking coffee. A white lab coat drapes over his blue button-up and slacks underneath, glasses perched on his nose. You squint at him, unsure of why he seems so familiar to you.

When you see his eyes, that night at the train tracks comes rushing back to you. You sit up immediately. “It’s you!” you exclaim. “What are you doin’ here?” Once you do sit up, you regret it and press a hand to your pounding head.

Nanami smiles at you, closing his book. ‘Well, you’re in my infirmary,” he chuckles. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. Y/N.”

Infirmary? Now that your vision has cleared more, you take a look around the strange room: polished wooden floorboards, butter yellow walls, and a wooden nightstand where a covered bowl of fruit and a glass of water sit. You sit in a comfortable bed surrounded by machines, including an IV in your wrist. These machines and the paper gown you wear prove Nanami’s words correct.

Nanami rises from his seat, places his book on his chair, and walks to the window. “Where am I?” you ask. “I mean, other than in your infirmary.” He twists the blinds open, hitting you with rays of sun and a sight of apple trees blossoming with pink flowers outside your window. “Willow Springs,” he answers. “Your friends brought you here about three days ago. They rode like hell to get you here after you–”

“Wait, wait,” you cut in, your eyes widening at the newfound information. “I’ve been here for three days?” Nanami nods, closing the blinds the minute you begin to rub your temples.

You try to backtrack your steps and remember the last time you were conscious. You see flashes of the Devil’s Trail and its hot, sandy trails; the snake lashing at your ankle; the starry night sky; Gojo and Geto’s eyes. They’re all just flashes. No clear, cut memories you can focus on. “Why the hell can’t I remember nothin’?!” you exclaim. “Why can I–oh, my head hurts.”

Your head feels like it’s about to explode with how hard it’s pounding. Not to mention how parched you are. As if reading your mind, Nanami passes you the glass of water along with the bowl of fruit. “Relax, eat and take a sip.”

You do as he says and take a long sip of the water before taking off the lid on the bowl and popping a strawberry into your mouth. The sweet, juicy, tarty taste of the berry explodes onto your tongue and you tingle with pleasure. Nanami watches you from afar, arms crossed.

Then he begins to relay more information to you: “After you were bit by that snake, the venom had a prolonged spread, meanin’ that it didn’t spread as quickly in the first few hours after you got bit. But after some time, probably during the night into the next morning, it slowly spread throughout your veins. Your immune system couldn’t fight the toxins, so that’s why you fainted at some point and were unconscious for so long.”

He comes over to the end of the bed and takes hold of the warm cotton blanket covering you. “Brace yourself,” he says before peeling back the blanket to reveal your foot.

You gape in horror at your foot tightly wrapped in bandages, your toes slightly red and peeking out of the handmade boot. “Oh, my God,” you gasp. “Look at my toenails!” They are black as if some kind of fungus has formed underneath them.

“Those will clear up with the antibiotics I’ve been givin’ you,” Nanami explains. “As I said before, the Gunslingers rode like hell to get you here and immediately made a call to me to ask for help. Since you’ve been out, I’ve been takin’ care of you.”

You blink up at the doctor, your heart fluttering at the mention of the Gunslingers. They brought you here? “They thought you were dead when they brought you in,” Nanami solemnly continues. “If they would’ve waited a day longer to bring you here, you would’ve been.”

You don’t even want to think about that. “Where are they?” you ask. “Where’s my horse?”

“All stayin’ at a bed and breakfast ten minutes away for the time being while you recover,” the doctor replies. “They’ve been visitin’ you daily, so they’ll be happy to know that you’ve awakened.”

Once again, your stomach flaps and flutters like a jar full of butterflies at the mention of the gunslinging duo. Not only did they rush to bring you here while you were on the brink of death, but they also have been visiting you. You sip your water to hide how much this affects you. “Well, thank you for the help, Kento,” you say, “but I need to–”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t go anywhere just yet,” Nanami interrupts, his tone soft but firm. You blink at him, confused. “You’ll have to rest at least for another week and gradually move on to walkin’ again. But you will walk.”

You gape at him, wondering if he’s deadass. A week?! You can’t afford to lose a week of lying about when your target is out there somewhere…and probably looking for you. “Listen, I can’t be here right now,” you sternly argue, peeling back the blanket. “I have someone after me. Benji the Bandit–”

“Doesn’t know you’re here,” Nanami says, putting the blanket back on you. “And before you ask, yes, our sheriff knows you and the Gunslingers are here, but he agreed to keep you here until you’ve recovered and as long as you don’t cause trouble. I doubt you’ll do much of that on that foot.”

He nods down at your tightly wrapped foot that could scare even the hardest man alive. You sigh, realizing he’s right. You can’t do anything right now. “Thank you,” you say. “I mean it and…I’m sorry I’m so paranoid.”

You feel embarrassed for acting the way that you do. Suddenly, you remember Geto’s words that he said to you on the Devil’s Trail: “You’re too hellbent…too reckless…”

You wither with shame, realizing that he’s right. The reason you were put on those train tracks and bitten by that snake is all because of you and your stupid decisions. Maybe a week stuck in a bed is exactly what you need. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling you, “Slow the fuck down, my child!”

Nanami shrugs, looking like it couldn’t bother him less. “Don’t mention it. I told you already that this town respects what you and the Gunslingers do for those who’ve been victimized by troubled folk.” You smile, feeling good about that. You didn’t realize so many people respected you other than feared you.

The door suddenly creaks open and a young man with fluffy, pink hair and a bright smile pokes his head in. “Oh, she’s awake!” he says. “Mr. Nanamin, there’s an old couple downstairs who wants to see you, sir!”

Nanami nods, already walking to the door. “Thank you, Itadori.” The pink-haired boy’s smile grows wider and he pops out of frame. “Excuse me for a moment,” Nanami says, taking his glasses off and placing them in his coat pocket. “Help yourself to the rest of the fruit.”

He then closes the door and leaves you alone to your own devices. You sit there and chomp on the sliced apples, oranges, and strawberries before you hear the door creak open once more. “She’s right in here,” Nanami whispers. “Just please be gentle with her. She looks like she’s had a rough journey.”

Your heart leaps, thinking that it’s the Gunslingers coming to see you. Though these visitors aren’t, your heart still pounds as fast as a hummingbird’s wings at the sight of the old couple standing before you.

The woman wears a floral blue dress and matching flats, her silver hair that you remember always playing with when you were younger tied into a long braid going down her back. Her face has more lines than before, aged with time, but she still has those loving brown eyes that remind you of those chocolate chip cookies she used to bake you, warm and sweet.

She covers her mouth at the sight of you, her eyes glassy and the gold band on her ring finger gleaming. It’s nice to know that after all this time, they are still together. “Y/N,” she tearfully sobs. “Oh, my darlin’, it’s really you!”

You feel tears begin to push past your eyes too when you recognize them. “Mama,” you whisper. “Papa.”

Her husband, who has more prominent lines and wrinkles in his face, takes his cowboy hat off of his head, showing off the same salt-and-pepper hair that he has on his chin. He wears a flannel and slacks with a corduroy jacket that you remember him always wearing.

“Sweetheart,” he gasps. “Thank God, you’re okay! We’ve been worried sick about you, my love!”

Mr. Eren and Mrs. Yuri Tokyoami immediately rush to your bed and stand on either side of it. They don’t touch you immediately, too afraid of startling you or possibly accidentally ripping out a wire, but they still take your hands in either of yours, gripping them tightly.

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe your parents are here after all this time. “How’d you find me?” you ask, shocked.

“We’re year-long patients of Dr. Nanami,” Yuri explains. “Your father needed his knee fixed years ago and we mentioned him to you.” You look at Nanami who only smiles, silently watching by the door.

“Minus the outlaw part,” Eren chuckles, placing his hat at the foot of the bed. “I guess he put the pieces together once you were here and he called us immediately. We moved here three years after you left ‘cause the taxes got too high. After I sold the old farm and Yuri’s apprentice took over the bakery, we bought a much bigger farm here a couple of miles down the road.”

The gears in your head turn slowly, processing all of this newfound information, but when your dad tells you that they moved to Willow Springs three years after you left home, you pause. “Y-You’ve been livin’ here this whole time?” you shakily ask.

He nods, his expression confused. He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand. Neither one of them could ever.

For so long, you’ve been wondering where they are and if they still lived in Elden’s Valley. You resisted the urge to go home, to call, or to even write a letter. You wondered if they still missed you or if they were still looking for you…if they even remembered you.

And here they are now, aged with time and yet still so full of the same love they had for you years ago when they found you in that cart of flowers.

You burst into tears again, covering your face. Yuri places a hand on your back, comforting you. Then you feel both of their arms around you, finally being embraced by the people you love most. “I’m sorry,” you sob. “I would’ve sent a letter or called if I knew, but I couldn’t–”

“Honey, we know,” Yuri coos, caressing your hair. “We’ve seen you in newspapers and on those ‘Wanted’ posters. All we could do was pray for you to be safe and to one day come back to us.”

To hear that be made perfectly clear to you—that they never forgot you—makes you cry even harder. “I’ve done so many things!” you cry. “Papa, I-I’ve–”

“Hush now, darlin’,” he shushes you, pressing your head into his chest. He smells of tobacco and mint like he always has. “You’re still our little girl. Our flower, no matter what you’ve done in life. We could never be disappointed in you, my love.”

You clutch his jacket and cry, cry, cry, letting all of your pain and longing come up to the surface. And at some point, Nanami leaves the room to give you time alone with your family who cry with you.

*******

That night, after your parents leave you to head back home, you spend the night in Nanami’s infirmary where you’re visited by two ghosts of your very recent past.

Those ghosts being Geto and Gojo the Gunslingers. You’re chomping down on your dinner of assorted fruits, a spring salad, and green tea (Nanami insisted you eat light for now) when you hear a sudden knock at the door. Nanami has retired to his home, leaving the overnight staff to watch over you.

You turn, expecting to see one of his aids or nurses there, but your stomach flips when you see Gojo standing there in his cowboy attire, hat and boots included. He only thing different with him are the sunglasses he has on instead of his blindfold. He looks like the fourth blind mouse with them on, but you also find them endearing.

“Well, look who decided to join the land of the livin’ again,” he jokes. He takes the glasses down, giving you a peak of his blue eyes. “Did a bad dream wake ya, little miss?”

Geto slides through behind him, taking his black cowboy hat off while Geto keeps his on. His hair is tied into a ponytail, the simple yet sexy hairstyle accentuating his handsome face. “It’s good to see you up, Y/N,” he sighs, sounding relieved. “We were worried.”

They walk farther into the room, Geto taking a seat in the chair beside your bed while Gojo leans against the wall near the window. You sit up in the bed, feeling slightly embarrassed for them to see you in such a state. You can tell that Geto is genuine too when he says they were worried and you think back to Nanami telling you how hard they rode to get you here.

“Thank you,” you softly say. Gojo smiles, happy to hear you talking. “We’ve got another visitor here to see ya.” He peels back the curtains to the window and raps lightly on the glass.

A familiar, long face with big, black eyes and a silky fur appears behind the glass, staring at you. “Reneigh, darlin’!” you joyfully shout. As if hearing you, her ears wiggle. “We’ve been takin’ care of her while you recovered,” Gojo explains. “Just brushin’ her and braidin’ her hair. She’s a sweetheart.”

Hearing that they’ve been caring for your horse while you were unconscious makes your heart flutter. You pass it off as being grateful for their generosity. You take. sip of your tea, breathing in the steam, herbs, and lemon. “Nanami told me y’all visited me while I was out.”

Gojo nods, moving to pick an orange slice out of your fruit bowl without asking. You let him do it. “Had to make sure you were okay,” he says like it’s so obvious. “Y’know, we thought you were already dead when we brought ya here. You felt like a limb noodle.”

“Well, snake venom will do that to ya,” you chuckle. The duo laughs along with you. “Y’all met my parents too, apparently.” Geto’s eyes light up with recognition. “Oh, the farmer and his sweet wife?” he asks. You nod, inwardly cringing as you remember your parents mentioning the two while they were here.

While Yuri was rather happy about the idea of the two being your friends, Eren was less than approving. “You’re friends with the Gunslingers?” he asked, sounding extremely perturbed by the idea. Yuri laid a hand on his arm, calming him. “Eren, honey, they saved her life,” she argued. “And they were so nice to us!”

You gaped up at them, almost dropping your glass of water. “Y’all met them?” you gasped.

Yuri nodded, smiling fondly. “Oh, they’re such gentlemen,” she gushed. “They came here to visit you at the same time as us one day and we learned that they rode ya in here. Such sweet men, they are.” You still gape at her starry-eyed expression, the gears in your head slowly turning. Geto and Gojo met your parents?

Eren grunts indifferently. “They may be sweet, but they’re still wanted outlaws.”

In that moment, you see yourself in him like you’re looking in a mirror. You would have said this same thing months ago before you met Geto and Gojo. All outlaws were the same to you…until them. And you need to defend them. “And so am I, Papa,” you argued, placing your hand on his bigger, wrinkled one. “They don’t kill innocents. They go after evil people, just like me!”

“And they saved her life,” Yuri added, her eyes loving yet firm as they stared into her husband’s. “Just give ‘em a chance, dear. Y/N did and they seem very happy together.” She turned to you, still starry-eyed and excited. “So how long have you known ‘em? When’s the wedding?”

You blinked at her, confused. And then you went hot with humiliation. “H-Huh?!” you stammered. “No, Mama, you’ve got it wrong! We’re just friends!”

Eren looked relieved while Yuri looked like you just shot her. “See, Yuri?” he sighed. “Always jumpin’ to conclusions. She’ll get married when she gets married!” You didn’t ask why your mom seemed so overjoyed about you marrying two of the most notorious outlaws in the Wild West, but you didn’t want to know.

You flush as you look at the two now, Yuri’s question about marriage still bothering you like a pesty fly. “So how were you two handlin’ things?” You ask, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.

Gojo points at the fruit bowl questionably and you nod, rolling your eyes. Now he decides to ask? He plucks a strawberry out of the bunch this time. “Eh, it’s kinda weird bein’ in one place for so long, but we’ve gotten used to it. It’s pretty nice to sleep in a clean bed and take a shower every mornin’.”

“We’re stayin’ at a bed an’ breakfast for now,” Geto explains. “Just until you’re healed up, but we don’t really have a timestamp on how long we’ll be stayin’ there for.”

“And it’s for free!” Gojo happily announces, his joy over such a thing endearing to you. “The old lady who runs the place told us she loves us for our work, so she gave us the room free of charge.” He smirks at you. “To tell ya the truth, I think she just wants to fuck us.”

Suddenly, a series of memories come flooding back to you: the starry Western skies; the moonlight turning the tips of the trees silver; the softness of Geto and Gojo’s hair between your fingers; their calloused hands; their wet tongues and soft mouths; Gojo’s piano fingers sliding inside of you while Geto plays with your—

You press a hand to your head, wincing at the embarrassing memories. Now they decide to come back to you of all times?! Geto notices your discomfort and places a gentle hand on your knee. “You alright?” he asks, concerned.

When you flinch at his touch, he notices and quickly backs off, afraid that he hurt you. “Y-Yeah,” you reply a little too quickly. “M’fine.” You cough into your hand, attempting to recover. “So when are we thinkin’ of gettin’ back on the road to find Benji?” you ask, changing the subject.

The duo look at each other, silently speaking to one another, and you can see that you said the wrong thing. Gojo quickly sprinkles some sugar on the awkward moment though. “Whoa there, girl,” he chuckles. “Relax! You just woke up from a venom-indunced coma. Can’t the Bandit wait till you’re better?”

“But I am better!” you protest despite your black toenails and throbbing foot. “Nanami said I should be good in a week, so we can leave then.”

Geto becomes the voice of reason despite your disagreement with him. “You need rest,” he soothingly says. “We’ll have plenty of time to go after Benji once you’re 100%, but for now, just take this time to recuperate.” You think about his and Gojo’s reactions to holding you almost-lifeless body and give in to the duo’s “suggestion”. And just like that, it’s settled.

“So what’s this about us gettin’ married?” Gojo asks, plucking another orange slice from your fruit bowl. “Your mama seemed pretty animate about that.” He gives you a smirk as he goes to peel the slice, but you snatch it back before he can.

“Please shut up,” you sigh while Geto laughs.

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