#how am I supposed to be constructive about this
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from the trailblazer's perspective:
we met some weird guy who wears a statue on his head, who was kind of a dick to us, but then we went on a little entomological field trip where he was oddly encouraging. surprisingly nice to us afterward for all that he literally interrogated us first. but herta runs around as a doll and we're plenty weird ourselves, so dr. ratio is whatever, i guess. we probably think of him as "that weirdo who was on the herta space station once," which is an association i'm sure he'd hate - but hey, at least we don't call him "scholar king."
from the trailblazer's perspective:
we met some flashy IPC guy because we accidentally held him up in line at the hotel check-in, himeko tried to negotiate and it turns out he's a professional cutthroat negotiator, but it all worked out and he gave us his fancy room. he also loomed over us with freaky glowing eyes and maybe threatened us, but it was kinda vague and it's not like he really hurt us. well... until he did. the trailblazer gets the opportunity to be verbally sore about that, but the fight didn't really feel like cocolia, like phantylia; like aventurine had gone mad and wanted to take over and/or destroy the world. his grandstanding didn't make any sense to us at the time, though, and fighting him sucked ass. but we lived and - as we found out eventually - so did he.
then the trailblazer boards the radiant feldspar, and we see aventurine's hologram talking with ...boothill? okay. who explicitly says they're working out some kind of shady underhanded deal to find oswaldo schneider which, subtlety thy name is not boothill, but that's none of our business i guess. but aventurine's there(-ish) and alive and not cackling mad, which is an improvement.
then we go into the next room over and see that herta space station weirdo, dr. ratio.
huh???
and the first thing he says to us is "no wonder that gambler likes you so much."
huh???????
everything about this is news to the trailblazer. since when is dr. ratio not only on penacony, but in the dreamscape, aboard the exclusive invitation-only dream cruise ship? since when does he not only know of aventurine, but was apparently on this mission with him? since when does aventurine like us??? we just got done mutually trying to kill each other! his hologram didn't seem sore about it, which is great for us, but doesn't exactly translate into "like!"
why are we hearing this from him and not aventurine? why does he know aventurine's thoughts on us in the first place?
dr. ratio really just shows up, yaps about aventurine unprompted, recommends us reading material, complains about the crowd and then is like "k i'm done here. ur dismissed."
the trailblazer had bigger things to think about but i, the player, do not. the fandom at large may feel like 2.3 fell flat, but the fall of the roman empire is still within the wheelhouse of my roman empire. i never left the radiant feldspar. i am still aboard this fucking ship.
#do u ever think about how baffling and incongruous these two must look to the trailblazer and go a little insane abt it#they may have woken from their dreams but perhaps i the player am caught in ena's dream being served ratiorine food forever#“then wake to weep?” no. i shall simply sleep 💤#ratio's still on the ship with me too 💗 if i just never accidentally press F near him and screwllum he'll stay here till EOS 💗#sidenote: the trailblazer probably shouldn't have immediately known that ratio's “that gambler” was referring to aventurine specifically#but i'll forgive a peephole thru an otherwise well-constructed 4th wall in the name of gay shipping#hsr meta#hsr#aventurine#ratio#ratiorine#trailblazer#penacony spoilers#also this is NOT what this post was supposed to be about when i started typing it. penacony just Does That to me#merry yaoimas & happy final victor anniversary#the only holidays i celebrate
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𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙣
𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝐱 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞
The room was quiet except for the distant hum of the air conditioner as you smoothed your hands over the velvet fabric of your new costume. It was different—dark and sultry in a way that would leave the audience restless. The black sequins glimmered under the soft light, and the sheer panels revealed enough to tease while still leaving room for imagination. It was tailored to perfection, designed to make an impact.
But tonight, you didn’t care about the stage. Tonight, you wanted his opinion.
“Alright, Rafe. I need your input,” you called over your shoulder as you stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room.
Rafe was sprawled on the couch like always, his phone in his hand, legs wide like he had all the time in the world. The moment he looked up, though, his entire body tensed. The phone slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate, darkening with every inch he took in. Your heels clicked against the floor as you stepped toward him, but he didn’t move. He didn’t blink. It was like he was afraid to breathe.
You smirked, shifting your weight and letting your hip jut out just slightly. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging.”
Rafe exhaled a curse, low and breathless, raking a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
“That’s not very constructive,” you teased, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on the sheer cutouts that framed your curves. “I’m serious, Rafe. I need feedback. I’m trying something... different.”
He laughed, but it came out hollow, almost strained. His knuckles were white where his hands gripped his knees, like he was physically holding himself back. “Feedback?” he repeated, his voice rough. “What the hell am I supposed to say? You want me to critique that?”
You bit back a grin, enjoying how unhinged he looked—his chest rising and falling just a little too fast, his eyes flicking between your face and the curves of your body like he couldn’t decide where to focus.
“Yes,” you said simply, stepping closer. The lights overhead hit the sequins just right, making the black fabric sparkle like a night sky. You stopped in front of him, close enough that you could smell his cologne and the faint lingering scent of cigarettes. “Be honest. Does it work?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back into the couch, his gaze still glued to you as he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. You recognized that look—it was the one he gave you when he was teetering between self-control and whatever darker urges were running through his mind.
Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head with a low, humorless laugh. “It works. Jesus, it works,” he muttered, tilting his head to look up at you. “You’re gonna fucking kill someone wearing that.”
You smirked, tilting your head as you reached out and traced a finger along his shoulder. “That’s the idea.”
His eyes snapped to yours, dark and dangerous. His hands twitched against his knees like he wanted to grab you, but he stayed still, watching you with the kind of hunger that made heat pool low in your stomach.
“Rafe,” you teased softly, running your fingers down his arm, feeling the muscles flex under your touch. “Are you seriously going to sit there and act like this doesn’t do anything for you?”
He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the couch. “You know what it does to me. You’re just trying to fuck with me now.”
You laughed softly, trailing your hand lower until it brushed against his wrist. “Maybe. But I still need more than ‘it’s hot as hell.’”
Before you could say anything else, his hands shot out, gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasped, your hands bracing against his chest as you found yourself straddling him. His fingers pressed into the velvet fabric of your costume, holding you in place as he looked up at you.
“You want my opinion?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Fine. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. And if you go on stage in this, you’re gonna make every guy in the room lose his goddamn mind.”
You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as his hands slid over your hips, slow and deliberate. “And you?” you asked softly, your voice quieter now. “Does it make you lose your mind?”
Rafe’s lips curled into a lazy smirk, but his eyes were still dark, his grip on your waist tightening. “You have no fucking idea.”
His hands moved lower, tracing the curves of your thighs where the costume ended. The heat of his touch burned through the fabric, and you shivered despite yourself. He noticed, of course—he always noticed—and his smirk widened.
“Rafe,” you murmured, trying to sound scolding, but it came out breathless instead.
“What?” he said, feigning innocence as his fingers trailed upward again, dipping just beneath the edge of the sheer paneling. “You’re the one who asked for my input.”
“You’re not being very helpful.”
“I’m being honest,” he shot back, his voice dropping lower as his hands spread over your hips, pulling you down just a little harder against him. You felt the heat of him through his jeans, and the realization sent a flush creeping up your neck.
Your hands tightened against his chest as you tried to steady yourself. “I didn’t think you’d lose your composure this quickly.”
Rafe let out a low, almost mocking laugh. “Babe, you walked out here looking like a goddamn fantasy, and you expected me to sit there like nothing’s happening?”
You opened your mouth to retort, but his hands were on the back of your thighs now, sliding up and over the delicate fabric as he leaned closer. “If you’re gonna wear this for me,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “you better be ready for what comes next.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly his lips were on yours—hard and demanding, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with just as much fervor.
He groaned softly against your lips, pulling you even closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you. You could feel him—all of him—and it sent a spark of heat straight through you.
“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you pulled back just enough to look at him. His pupils were blown, his breathing ragged as he stared up at you.
“I’m serious,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “You can’t show this to anyone else.”
You laughed softly, brushing your lips against his again. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I mean it.” His hands tightened on your thighs as his gaze locked onto yours. “This is mine.”
Your stomach flipped at the possessiveness in his tone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.
Not when his lips were back on yours, and his hands were sliding over your body with a determination that left you breathless. This is where you belong.
taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog
credits to @anitalenia for the divider <3
#burlesque!reader#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe x you#rafe fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#obx cast#obx#obx4#outer banks#obx season 4#obx s4#outer banks netflix#outer banks season 4#obx fic#obx spoilers#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fanfiction
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Me, direct messaging a colleague less than 7 minutes into my work day, after coming across an issue that has apparently been ongoing since just after I went on leave over the past six months.
It was painfully obvious, too. It was literally written in bold font and red letters and numbers. All wrong. Every line and every calculation had errors. And we are being asked to sign off on it. And that’s just the cover page of one section. I am dreading auditing the rest of the 1500 page doc and its changes.
Like.
I just.
WTF.
=_=;
#real life#I started by asking questions#instead of making accusations#but I think tomorrow I'll end up primal screaming at some point#and then making a plan to fix and/or redo all the work on it#so it's accurate#new finance guy should have immediately stopped this in its tracks#just wtf#welcome back to the office moor#how am I supposed to be constructive about this#/table flip#I may redo it from scratch myself#like I did the last three contract amendments#for a multi-billion dollar contract#not my job#but sometimes#it's just easier#then again#I was specifically hired because I have a reputation and knack for finding and fixing this stuff#at least this will keep me gainfully employed for a while#but enjoying a more gentle RTW would have been nice#instead of immediately troubleshooting this level of crap work
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gender and sexuality labels are so fucking hard how am i supposed to know how what i experience (already hard to pin down) compares to what "normal people" experience (completely unknown to me)
#leologisms#smthn smthn gender and sexuality labels are social constructs that exist within the assumption of a 'normal' experience#and a) i have no idea what EXACTLY that experience is supposed to be like b) im not fully convinced it actually EXISTS#youre telling me 'normal' people all experience attraction/gender in this ONE particular way? for real? youve gotta be lying to me#even ''''''normal'''''' (allo cishet) people talk about how their experiences with romance dont align with how its commonly talked about#how am i (transgay autist) supposed to know exactly what a 'normal' experience is in order to categorise myself in relation to it#more and more i find myself attracted to ambiguous identities because i have no way of defining myself more precisely that feels right#not male or female or even nonbinary but simply transgender. if 'gay' didnt carry the meaning 'homosexual' id probably identify more#strongly with it too (rather than bi)#for a while ive been wondering about ace identities but ive been reluctant to actually explore them too deeply because a) im afraid of#stepping on toes (for some reason. i dont know why.) b) im sure these labels ARE useful for lots of people but man. considering right now i#in a sort of. 'dont look at it too hard' space wrt my identities i dont actually think id even feel very comfortable w any of them anyway#do i experience attraction in a normal way? maybe. define normal.
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i can explain
#i am cringe but i am free#medic x medic#double dosage#tf2#medic#red medic#blu medic#medic/medic#how else am i supposed to tag this#medicest#anyways a server discussion about crossfaction medimedic sparked this#i drew this without construction lines in five minutes then i went#hmmm the composition feels a little weird without an indicator of who's who#so i put down a light red/blue underlay for them#and i just kept going#oh well#ssawboness#my art#stoop art
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i really love my daily routine of writing in the mornings, but what i don't love is having to go from writing (the best part of the day) to working (the worst part of the day) the second that clock strikes eight :(
#i'm lucky to be able to work from home and i wouldn't have it any other way. but man does it bum me out to have to stop right when#i have a good flow going on. and then immediately have to think about construction equipment and heavy machinery and what not instead#how am i supposed to focus on categorizing these trucks when mentally i am still in kelsingra with my best friends fitz and the fool??#personal post
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getting older is really unfortunate because things are closed off to you the older you get. that's not a like litany against aging or something it's just an observation like literally you can never go back. literally you will never be this age again. it will be impossible for you to tell if you made the right choice or not until it's too late for you to go back and change it. things will simply continue happening on whatever course they're on and there's nothing you can do about it. all of your problems are aging with you. etc
#this is about the queer issue but also it's about everything else#i cant disentangle my problems from each other#queerness is like chronic pain to me in that it's simply a problem that will affect me everyday that i will never be rid of.#chronic pain is like my mental nonsense in that it's this personal world that cocoons me in that no one else will ever fully understand.#my mental nonsense is like queerness in that it's kind of a constructed web of anxieties and problems that are simultaneously real and fake#and then they loop around and feed on each other again#thinking about transition again i feel similar to how i felt about deciding about college. none of these options feel right i dread every#second of this future. yet it's coming anyway. i tried to kill myself like at least eight times in college#i regret going yet i also would have regretted not going. which i knew at the time. so i picked one#i will probably regret transitioning i will also regret not transitioning. the future is coming regardless i have to pick one#how many times will i try to kill myself after transitioning? how many times will i try to kill myself before/instead of transitioning?#if the self is dysfunctional if the self is wrong the solution is killing the self not putting a different outfit on it. you know?#what i would like is peace and i don't think anything is offering me that besides dying. it would be nice to be at peace#idk i am aging and i am in feelings about it i suppose. i have called it aging out of an age of plausible deniability. aging out of options#just me whining again
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see maybe i'd be willing to entertain the escuela grind dogpile if some of it involved having a productive conversation
#like how am i supposed to say 'this is a normal person with a valid take' when it's clear the people you're shitting on live in your head#yknow what i mean. the validity of your argument decreases when it becomes clear you just have a vendetta#and aren't interested in legitimately making things right#surely there has to be a more constructive way than. ranting and raving about unsubstantiated claims on instagram#and then complaining when your post that's basically bullying gets flagged for bullying#ana's rabmlings
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Too shy to tell you
miguel o’hara x fem!reader
Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.
Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]
Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!
:::
"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.
"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.
"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."
"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.
He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.
"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.
"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."
He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.
:::
It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.
"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.
"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.
"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.
He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.
"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.
"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.
"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.
"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."
You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.
"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.
You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.
"Please don't take that away from me."
His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...
"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."
As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.
"F-fine... I promise."
"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.
"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"
The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.
This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.
He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.
"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.
"I'll buy you the cutest flats."
:::
A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.
The end
#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o'hara fanfic#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman smut
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*throws more Veilguard Banter into the gaping maw of Tumblr and then flees*
~~
Solas: “I have another question, Varric. If I may?”
Varric: “Just the one?”
S: “For now. I must admit, I was surprised to see that you were the one they asked to make an attempt at dissuading me from completing my mission. Not to belittle our prior bonds of friendship, but if the intent was to send an agent who might presumably hold some power of persuasion over me, I…would have thought another candidate might have seemed like the more obvious choice.”
V: “Would it really have changed anything if she had been the one telling you to stop?”
S: “I…do not know. I should think not.”
V: “But at least you would have gotten to see her again, right?”
S: “Perhaps.”
V: “Heh, don’t you worry, Chuckles, I’m sure you’ll get your chance. The fact that I was here instead of her is more of a fluke than anything else. She was more than eager to follow up on the tip that led us to you, but then the kid insisted on tagging along, and you know how it is.”
S: “…kid?”
V: “Right, the kid. You probably haven’t seen him either.”
S: “…No. I have not. Although, I would have thought that there would have been news if the Herald of Andraste had… Well. I suppose there is wisdom in striving to keep such affairs private. I certainly have no right to voice an objection.”
V: “Why would you object to seeing the kid again?”
S: “Again? I… You are referring to Cole.”
V: *snorts* “Well, yeah. Who’d you think I was talking about?”
S: “Never mind.”
~
Rook: “So, Varric, do you really think the Inquisitor is going to show up?”
Varric: “Oh, don’t worry, she’ll be here. She’s been searching high and low for Chuckles for nearly a decade.”
R: *whistles* “And she never caught up to him in all that time?”
V: “Once. It…didn’t end well. After that, a few of our agents came close over the years, but it turns out that the world is a pretty big place, and tracking a lone elf with a network of magical transportation mirrors on his side is about as tricky as you’d expect. It’s even harder when you’ve got a notorious reputation and half of Thedas has seen portraits of your face. One whisper of the Herald of Andraste entering a city, and all our leads would vanish overnight.”
R: “But…I thought the two of them liked each other?”
V: “I think that made it worse, actually.”
Solas: “You do realize that I am standing right here?”
~
Solas: “For what it is worth, I am sorry about your Bianca, Varric.”
Varric: “Oh, you know, what’s an irreplaceable keepsake from the woman I can never be with in the grand scheme of things, anyway? At least you didn’t turn me to stone.”
S: “Your anger is justified. I do not expect your forgiveness, but I would apologize for my actions, none the less.”
V: “Look, if I were you, my forgiveness isn’t what I’d be worried about right now. Someone else has a much bigger bone to pick with you than I do.”
S: “I am not expecting her forgiveness, either.”
V: “So, you’re not even going to try?”
S: “And what, precisely, should I be trying, Master Tethras? This is hardly the sort of situation to be solved by a bouquet of flowers and a well-constructed poem.”
Rook: “Maybe you could send chocolates?”
V: “I was going to suggest groveling, actually.”
#Solas#Varric#Rook#solavellan#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#fic#i don't know that i feel like these flow as well as the first set#but i'm having fun with Varric dragging Solas through Uncomfortable Conversations
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Halloween Cowboy {Joel Miller x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5.7k
Warnings: Idiots in love, crushing, putting your foot in your mouth, embarrassment, flirtation, Younger Joel, drinking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex
Comments: Tommy and his girlfriend, your best friend, manage to get you and your sexy neighbor Joel at the same Halloween party.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
“Cmon man. You gotta come. Lindsey wants to meet you and I can’t keep makin’ up excuses for my big brother not wanting to meet my girl.” Tommy whines while he stands over Joel who is trying to read the plans for the bathroom redo.
“Tommy. I’m tryin’ - Jesus. Is it really that damn important?” He asks his brother after taking his glasses off of his nose.
“Yeah. Sarah is going to sleep over at her friend Tori’s house, right? You’ll be sitting on your own with the curtains closed to ward off trick or treaters while watching Dawn of the Dead for the hundredth time…you ain’t busy.” Tommy calls Joel out who signs and sets his glasses down on the table.
“Fine. Fine. If it’s that damn important I’ll go but, shit. I don’t have a costume.” He confesses and Tommy smirks, “that’s easy. You’re already wearing it.” He eyes the construction belt and hard hat and Joel scoffs but takes a second, “I got a cowboy hat. And boots.” He decides and Tommy snorts, “rodeo Joel is making an appearance. Haven’t seen that since high school when you were trying to impress Katie.” Joel huffs, trying to not snap at his brother at mentioning his ex wife whose parents owned a ranch.
“Sorry.” Tommy murmurs and Joel shrugs, “I’ll be there.” He promises, picking up his glasses again and Tommy grins, not mentioning the best part until he’s about to walk away. “Oh and your pretty neighbor will be there. Lindsey invited her.”
****
“Why do I have to go again?” You whine to Lindsey even as you are mixing together the cream cheese with the salsa to make roll ups. It’s one of your best appetizers to throw together quickly and are always a hit. She snorts and rolls her eyes at you. “You need to get out and socialize. You need to have some fun since you broke up with dickhead.” She had never hidden the fact that she thought your ex wasn’t good enough for you. Only now would you admit that she’s right, but you still huff at her. “What am I supposed to do? Pick up someone from your party and take them home?”
“Or you could use my guest room?” She waggles her eyebrows, “and I do believe the man you’ll be riding in there will be called Joel.” She smirks and you nearly choke, “no. No. I don’t - he doesn’t -” Lindsey giggles, “Tommy said the man watches your every damn move from his porch. Watches your ass when you walk past. Trust me, honey. The man wants you. He’s just got issues from his ex leaving.” She explains, knowing Tommy has briefly told her about what happened with Katie. “You don’t need to be his therapist to get some.” She says and nudges you.
****
Joel huffs as he looks at himself in the mirror. The checkered shirt is buttoned up unlike its usual openness when he has a t-shirt underneath. The large belt buckle his dad got him as a present was dug out from the back of his underwear drawer, and the boots are comfortable, worn in thankfully from regular use. The hat is on the side and he grabs it, putting it on his head to see how it looks. He looks like teenage Joel and that scares him. How eager he was to impress a girl. Too eager in fact that she left the first moment she could, leaving him with a two month old when he was twenty years old. “Shit.” He sighs, rubbing his jaw, knowing he will see you. He knows he’s jaded, he’s a single dad with issues and he knows you’d never want him. He’s too complicated. With a huff, he grabs the lasso he got from Tommy as a joke a few years ago and leaves his house to go to the party.
“I think real cuffs would have been better.” You huff to yourself, hating how the ties on these Wonder Woman wrist cuffs keep coming loose. The party hasn’t even started yet and you want to just go home. Not that Lindsey would let you. “Tie this for me.” You demand, holding your wrist out. “If I’m going to be Wonder Woman, I need to be a put together, sexy version of her.”
Joel isn't early. He doesn't like to be early to parties since he can't disappear into a crowd and leave early. He sighs after he parks his truck down the street, his boots clicking as he walks up the driveway until he is opening the door. The party is already underway and he squeezes past people drinking and making out and talking to try and find Tommy.
“Coming through, coming through!” You yank the platter of appetizers higher, needing to get over to the table and refill them although people won’t seem to get out of your way. The party is bigger than what Lindsey had told you it would be and she’s already glued to Tommy’s side, leaving you to kind of run things. Someone comes up to your right, just out of your vision as you veer off to avoid a couple who are groping each other. “Shit!” You hiss, bumping into someone and having to spin around to keep the tray from hitting the ground and ruining the snacks.
“Woah. Shit.” Joel hisses and barely catches the tray as you spin around and grab the other side. His eyes widen when he sees you, dressed like Wonder Woman with eyes wide and beautiful. “Hey.” He murmurs, keeping his grip on the tray and you offer him a gorgeous smile, “hey neighbor.” Someone knocks into him and he steadies the tray. “Let me help. Tell me where you want this and I’ll make sure no one knocks this over.” He promises, keeping his grip tight.
“Hey.” You smile breathlessly, a little shocked and release the tray to him because of that. “Um, yeah, uh, right over there.” You point to the table in the corner and try to figure out if you need to hide in embarrassment or get the man a drink for helping you out. He looks fucking delicious and Lindsey’s comments about riding him are fucking perfect considering Joel Miller is out here dressed up like a fucking cowboy. Your panties are going to be ruined tonight, thinking about him.
Joel wrestles with the crowd to set the tray down and he turns to see you’ve followed him. “Who the hell did Tommy and Lindsey invite? The whole damn town?” He almost has to shout to compete with the chatter and the music. “Seems like it. I only made enough food for a small gathering.” You confess and Joel turns to look at the tray, “you did all that?” He asks and you nod, biting your lip. “Goddamn. You’re like Martha Stewart. But hot.” He adds until he flusters and reaches up to adjust his hat. “Uh, I mean, you look good. As Wonder Woman. I had this massive crush on Linda Carter when I was a kid and uh, yeah. You look good.” He repeats, silently cursing himself for being so lame as Sarah would say.
You want to laugh at the way Joel looks ready to punch himself in the face for being stupid, but you like seeing him like this. “Thanks.” You reach out and touch his arm. “You look really hot too. You’re going to be beating them off with a stick dressed like this, Miller.” You predict, knowing you would be the first in line if you had half a chance at him. “We’ll be dreaming of cowboy lullabies tonight.”
Joel blushes, grateful for the cowboy hat to hide it, and he gets a sudden boost of confidence. “Yeah? You think I’d have a chance with someone at the party? Even though I got more baggage than Bush Airport?” He jokes and you scoff, “everyone has baggage.” He nods, staring at you for a moment and he opens his mouth to ask if you want to find somewhere quieter to talk but a hand slaps his shoulder and he turns to see his brother. “You made it! And dressed up!” Tommy exclaims, clearly a little drunk and his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman. “This is Lindsey. Baby, this is the mysterious big brother I’ve been telling you about.” Lindsey grins and holds her hand out, “it’s great to finally meet you, Joel. Tommy can’t shut up about you.” She teases before she says your name, “and she’s always talking about her sexy neighbor. You’re the talk of the town.” Lindsey teases and Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he looks towards you.
“Lindsey.” You groan your friend’s name, face heating up and you want the earth to open and swallow you whole. “I think you might need to drink some water.” You huff, snatching her cup out of her hand and quickly drinking it down yourself. Hoping that Joel doesn’t think that you are some kind of creepy stalker or some shit.
Lindsey’s words make his stomach twist and Tommy smirks at him, knowing about his crush on his neighbor, and he squeezes Lindsey’s hand until she lets go and turns to look at Tommy. “Come on baby. Let’s get you another drink. Enjoy the party. See you in a bit. Mingle.” Tommy urges his older brother who has the habit of hiding in the corner. “Sure.” Joel nods and watches Tommy take Lindsey to the kitchen. “I need a drink.” Joel mutters to himself before he looks at you, “you know where the booze is?”
“Yeah,” Despite being embarrassed, you won’t let him go without a drink. “It’s out here.” You point to the patio door. “We’ve got a small pony keg if you want beer and then there’s tequila.” You huff out a laugh. “That’s what I plan on drinking.” You joke as you open the door. “Listen- uh, about what she said? I just- I don’t want you to think that I’m watching you all the time or something.”
Joel looks at you as he follows you to the drinks table. He was shocked to hear you watch him and you being flustered makes his heart thump. “I’m watching you.” He confesses, “not in a creepy way but - but yeah. I like watching you.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly burning up in the flannel shirt.
You freeze for a second as you reach for a cup, relieved and slightly surprised to find out that Tommy and Lindsey were right. Now that you both have admitted embarrassing things, you laugh and shake your head. “I think we are way too sober right now.” You tease and waggle a cup at him. “What’ll you have before we discuss further?”
“Anything with alcohol.” He teases and picks up his own cup, filling it with cheap whiskey and topping it off with some Coke. “Happy Halloween.” He grins and hits your cup with his. “Happy Halloween, neighbor.” You smirk and he takes a sip of his drink, sighing at the sting of the whiskey.
You ask where Sarah is and listen while Joel explains about the sleepover, but you are really admiring the way he fills out that flannel shirt. It’s cut perfectly and makes his broad frame look even broader. You know the man is strong because you’ve seen the tools and materials he has to carry. “So why a cowboy and not a sexy construction worker?” You ask, grinning as the burn of the alcohol starts to fade and the heat runs through your veins.
“That seemed too obvious. Isn’t halloween about pretending to be something you’re not? Tonight, I’m not a single father construction worker. Tonight, I’m a cowboy looking for a hero.” He smirks as he flexes his fingers around the red solo cup.
It takes you a second to realize he’s referring to your wonder woman costume and you grin. “Not all heroes wear capes, Miller.” You remind him playfully and toss back the rest of your drink so you can pour both of you another. “I think you also underestimate how sexy single father construction workers are.” You huff. “But I like the idea of taking a cowboy for a ride.”
Joel can’t believe how smooth he is being when usually he’s fumbling over his words with you. Maybe the costume has helped him regain some confidence after years of focusing on Sarah and not his love life. “Save a horse, ride a construction worker.” He winks and you giggle, making his heart clench. His eyes drag down your body when you turn and bend over to grab another bottle of tequila from under the drinks table and his cock twitches in his jeans.
You open the new bottle and pour you both a large drink. You don’t want to hang out by the booze all night, although it’s been pretty quiet right now. Soon enough there will be people charging out here to refill their own cups. “So are you ready to let your hair down?” You ask.
Joel snorts, “I don’t think I’ve ever done that. Well, not since Sarah was born.” He confesses, glancing around at the sofa and he jerks his chin, “you wanna sit down?” He asks, his back starting to ache from the long work day and he’s anxious to get closer to you.
“Sure.” You point to the back yard. “Want to sit out there, or go upstairs?” You ask. “We can’t sit down in the living room with all those bodies in there.” It’s a subtle way to get him upstairs if you think that this could actually go somewhere, which it is looking like it might.
“Let’s go upstairs. I’m too fucking old for this music.” He confesses with a chuckle and you nod, taking his hand to escort him upstairs. You’ve been to Tommy’s house a few times with Lindsey to get ready for nights out. Joel hopes his hand isn’t sweaty in yours and he lets you guide him away from the crowd to the quiet guest room. The bass from the music thumps below his feet as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
“You know you are a good dad, right?” You ask, wondering if he knows just how sexy him being a very involved dad is to you. “You care about Sarah, you listen to her.” You smirk. “Even if you don’t always know what you are doing.”
He snorts, looking down at the drink in his hand, “I definitely don’t always know what I’m doing. I could handle Barbie dolls and hair bobbles but periods? Boys? It’s a little out of my league.” He admits, turning to look at you as you sit down beside him. You’re so beautiful, so understanding. You deserve way better than someone like him yet here you are. “Thanks for saying that though. She likes you. Loves your style and watching those stupid MTV shows with you.”
“She’s a good kid. Because of you.” You smile softly. “And you didn’t even use her to get laid.” You tease. “Do you know that women love a good dad? Our panties drop quick for a man who loves his children.”
Joel raises his eyebrows, “really?” He asks and you nod, giggling in a way that makes his cock twitch, already half hard in his jeans. You smile and he can’t help but lean in closer to you. “You gonna drop your panties for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice dropping lower for you.
“Fuck, that sounded so hot.” You whimper, biting your lip as your eyes slide down to his. You want to kiss him, but you aren’t brave enough yet. “I can’t.” You admit. “I’m not wearing any tonight.” You take his cup and yours and set it down on the nightstand as you talk.
“Shit.” Joel hisses, his eyes widening slightly and he can’t stop himself even if he tried. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. His hat pushed back on his head as he cups your cheek and he pulls back after a second when you don’t respond and he frowns, wondering if he misread this.
You are frozen. Shocked that Joel, your sexy neighbor, is kissing you. When he pulls back, you see him frown, reaching out and cupping his face so you can lean in to kiss him yourself.
He quickly recovers and melts into the kiss, his hand cupping your neck to pull you closer and he gains confidence, sliding his tongue along your lower lip, pushing into your mouth when you grant him access.
Your breath catches and you groan into his mouth. Still in disbelief that Joel is kissing you. Hes a good kisser. His tongue slides along your, tangles with it and encourages you to kiss him back. Your stomach twists in knots and you lean into the kiss more, malting into him.
He loves the way you kiss him back just as eagerly and he slides his hand along your thigh, groaning at the feel of your skin under his palm. You’re so soft and he loves it. He’s imagined it more times than he’d care to admit.
You hadn’t worn any tights with your outfit. Not wanting to feel trapped or have another layer to take off another layer when you’ve been drinking. His hands on your skin feels amazing and you shift, moving to straddle him and you giggle into his mouth.
He groans when you straddle him, his hands immediately finding your ass to squeeze the flesh. So many times he’s imagined your ass when you’ve been outside in your shorts or leggings and now he gets to touch you. “Fuck.” He pants into your mouth, his cock hardening underneath you.
“We will get to that.” You promise, pulling away to press your lips to his jaw. Always wanting to kiss his neck for forever. It’s so kissable. “Imagined it so many times.”
Joel groans, tilting his head, and he slides his hand up to squeeze your breast. “Me too. So many damn times. Imagined you under me, over me. Being inside you. Jerked off enough damn times.” He reveals as you grind down onto him.
You moan softly, imagining him with his cock in his hand, panting your name. “I want to see that sometime.” You admit breathlessly. “Watch you jerk off.”
"Fuck. One day." He promises, grabbing your ass to lift you so he can spin and lay you down on the bed. "Look goddamn sexy in your costume." He groans, caressing your calf. "Tell me what you want, baby." He demands, reaching for the zipper of your boot.
“Want to ride you.” You decide. “Keep your cowboy hat and boots on.” You smirk and wink. “Want to see if you live up to the expectations I’ve built up seeing you wear that costume.”
He smirks, “I hope I can. It’s been a while.” He confesses as he reaches up to start unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest to your hungry gaze.
You reach up and caress his chest. “That doesn’t matter.” You promise. “I just want to feel you inside me.” He peels your boots off and reaches for your bottom. “I’m going to strip you down.” He promises and you nod. “Do it.”
He peels the costume from your body, his cock aching in his jeans at each inch that’s exposed to his hungry gaze, and he has to reach down to undo the buckle, opening his pants to allow himself some relief from the hard press of the zipper. “Shit. You’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, caressing your stomach until he’s reaching for the hem of the top, dragging it from your body to expose your tits. “Goddamn beautiful.” He murmurs when he tosses the top aside and dives down to take your nipple into his mouth as he kneels on the bed.
Your cry is loud but you know that no one in the party can hear you. The music is still thumping and you can hear the chattering. Not that you care, all you care about is him. His mouth feels so good on your nipple it hurts, making you whine when he flicks his tongue over it after biting down. “Joel.” You pant, tangling your fingers into his hair.
He loves hearing your moan and he bites down on the bud, lapping at it with his tongue, before he switches to the other one. His thumb and forefinger pinching your hardened nipple that’s slick with his spit.
You’ve never had someone spend so much time on your tits. Not without being inside you. You enjoy the attention, every pull of his mouth and pinch of your nipple makes your cunt throb around nothing and you are positively dripping.
His free hand slides up your inner thigh, caressing the skin there and he slides his touch higher so he can slide his fingers through your folds. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” He murmurs against your breast.
“So turned on.” You confess. You moan his name again when he continues to slowly stroke through your folds, fingers brushing against your clit. “Fuck baby.”
He groans, “me too. So fucking hard right now.” He confesses as he presses his fingers against your clit, wanting to hear you moan for him again.
You groan, reaching down and cupping him through his jeans. “Fuck.” You gasp, knowing that he will stretch you out when you feel how thick he is. “So hard.”
“Shit.” He hisses when you squeeze him and he slides his hand lower so he can push two thick digits into your weeping cunt, wanting to hear you gasp again. “Take me out.” He pleads, kissing your jaw, “need to feel your hand around him.”
You fumble with his zipper blindly, eager to feel the heft in your hand, to feel how soft and hard he is. Joel pulls his hips back to give you more room and you both groan in unison when he comes free from his underwear and lands into your palm.
He groans when you finally grip him in your soft palm, loving the way you squeeze him, and he’s so hard. He’s aching for you and his fingers work in and out of you, desperate to hear you cry out his name.
Your eyes slide closed, twisting your wrist to pump his cock as much as you can while his fingers destroy you. They are just as thick and wonderful as you imagined. Rough, his hands are calloused and imperfect from the manual labor of his job, scrubbing perfectly inside your walls to make you choke out his name every time he curls them deep.
Your choked version of his name has him groaning yours as you try to pump his cock in your soft hand. He twists his wrist, pressing his thumb to your clit to hear the sweet cry of your orgasm. He desperately wants it. His lips find yours again and he slides his tongue into your mouth, wanting to devour you.
Your hips roll up, eager to have him push his fingers deep every time he pulls them back. You feel that lovely tension curling in your stomach and you want more, crave it. He is just as overwhelming as you had imagined. Completely taking control and showing a confidence that is undeniably sexy.
Your walls flutter and clamp down on his fingers, making him grin against your chin, and he desperately wants you to fall apart for him. “Cum for me, baby.” He murmurs, nipping your jaw as he curls his fingers and presses his thumb against your clit.
It takes a few more pumps of his fingers before you are flying. Your walls lock down around his fingers and soak him with a wave of hot liquid juice that just continues to come in wave after wave while he continues to curl his fingers deep. Crying out his name loudly, nearly a sob and you shake under him.
“Holy fuck.” He groans when you grip his fingers in your walls and he loves how hot and wet you get. He can’t wait to feel that around his cock. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for me.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he works you through it.
You whimper, knowing that he could call you a good girl for the rest of your life and it would still make your stomach curl in pleasure. Your legs feel like jello when he finally pulls his fingers free and kisses your lips. “Fuck, Miller.” You pant. “Get on your back.”
He grunts as he shifts to lay against the pillows, pupils blown wide as he watches you while you shift to your wobbly knees. "So fucking gorgeous." He murmurs, his gaze dropping to your tits and he can't help reaching down to squeeze his hard cock.
You bite your lip when your thighs are straddling him, immediately moving and grinding down on his cock as soon as he moves his hand. Grinning when he moans your name and swivel your hips again. “Put your hat back on, cowboy.” You tease, leaning down and kissing him passionately.
He fumbles blindly to grab his hat from the nightstand and he puts it on while his tongue tangles with yours while you grind down onto him. “Shit. Co-condom?” He rasps, knowing it’s been forever and a day since he’s had sex but he wants you to be comfortable.
“Fuck.” You don’t have one, but you think you will cry if you have to stop right now. “I don’t- I’m clean.” You mumble against his lips, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m on birth control.”
“I’m clean and I - I trust you.” He promises, knowing he shouldn’t take the chance after Katie left him high and dry but he’s aching and he knows you wouldn’t lie to him. “Take what you want, baby.” He demands, his hands finding your ass to squeeze before he playfully slaps your cheeks, “ride a cowboy.”
You moan, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock as you lift up to move him into position. “Gonna ride you ‘til you pass out.” You tease, winking at him right before you start to impale yourself on his length with a loud moan.
When you start to sink down onto his cock, he hisses and his fingers dig into your ass, exhaling through his nose to control himself as he watches your facial expressions while he stretches you out. “Feel good?” He smirks, voice heavy with lust as he slides one hand up to squeeze your breast.
“Yes, fuck.” Your eyes close and you clench down around him. “You’re so much thicker than my ex.” You admit breathlessly, not even thinking that he might not want to be reminded that you had just broken up with someone.
He chuckles, pinching your nipple. "Good, gonna make sure you don't remember his fucking name after tonight." He promises and kisses along your jaw, "want you to scream my name only."
“What ex?” You joke, groaning when he nibbles on your ear. “Fuck, Joel.” You sit up, bracing your hands on his chest and look down on him. He looks sexy under you. “You have a great cock.” You praise, starting to bounce on it. “I’m going cum all over it.”
Your words make him twitch inside you and he slaps your tit, wanting you to squeal. You start to rock on top of him and the sight is gorgeous but he reaches for the hat on his head. He takes it off and places it on your head. “Sexy as fuck.” He murmurs, watching you as your tits move.
You giggle as you ride him, leaning over to press against his chest and bounce harder. He feels incredible inside you, his cock punching deep enough to feel like he’s in your throat and you start to rock harder on him. “Fuck, fuck Joel!”
“That’s it, baby. Shit. Take what you want. God, you look so gorgeous ridin’ my cock.” He coos as his dark eyes trail down to watch where his cock disappears inside of you.
He doesn’t have the exaggerated drawl of a cowboy, but that gravely, raspy pitch to his voice makes your cunt clench around him as he praises you. Loving how he seems to be obsessed with you moving on top of him. Those hands caress you from your tits to your thighs.
Your moans make him twitch inside you and he digs his heels into the mattress, unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you with a groan. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” He asks, his hands sliding up to pinch your nipples and twist them slightly.
“Yessssss.” You hiss, clenching down around him and circling your hips. “Your fucking cock is so deep inside me.” You moan. “You’re in my throat. How the fuck did no one want to ride this cock every night?”
Joel doesn’t mention his ex at this moment but he’s been hesitant to get involved with anyone since she left him with a baby and walked out the door. It’s been hard and he’s finally taking time for himself. He’s going to let you take what you want from him. “Wanna see you cum again.” He rasps, groaning when you clench around him, getting closer.
“I will.” You moan, bouncing on his cock faster and gasping out when he pushes against a perfect spot deep inside you. “God I want to cum all over you.”
"Do it." He pleads, his jaw clenched as he tries to focus on not cumming before you. It's been too long since all he had was his hand. He groans and slides his hand between you, finding your clit to rub, needing you to fall apart for him.
That little nudge of his fingers is all you need. Crying out his name so loud it’s almost a scream you shake apart on top of him, clenching down on his cock and creaming all over it as your hips stutter and you collapse against his chest to press your lips to his breathlessly.
He pulls his hand from between you, his arms wrapping around you and he is desperate to cum. He thrusts up into you, hissing at the way you clench around him. So tight he can barely thrust up into you, and he groans as he pushes deep and finally lets go. He paints your walls with his hot cum, a pant of your name escapes his lips as the breath is knocked from him.
You pant as he relaxes underneath you. Both of you are trying to catch your breath. “Wow.” His cowboy hat is pushed back, falling off your back and you start to giggle in pleasure. Amazed at how good that was. “Good ride, cowboy.”
He chuckles, heart pounding in his chest as he caresses your back, “fuck, my fantasies didn’t do you justice. You are incredible.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder and up your neck.
You hum in agreement. He cock is softening inside you but you don’t even have the strength to move off of him. “Much better than getting drunk downstairs.”
Joel smiles, “absolutely. I, uh, wouldn’t mind doing it again. And again.” He confesses with a softness to his voice as he caresses you. “I’ve wanted you for a while. Do you, maybe, uh, wanna go out sometime?” He asks, wanting you to know this isn’t just a quick fuck at a party.
“Of course I do.” You smirk, pulling back and giving him a small wink. “How else will I be able to ride this construction cowboy anytime I want?” You joke, happy that Lindsey had convinced you to come to this party tonight. This was much better than eating too much candy on your sofa all alone. “Although next time, I want to see that fucking tool belt on your hips. Do you know how sexy that is?”
Joel actually blushes and he shakes his head, "I didn't know. Tool belt...I can make that happen." He promises and leans in to kiss you again. You groan after you pull back, shifting off of him and he reaches down to tuck his soft cock away. "I know I come as a package deal but Sarah loves you. She thinks you are cool as shit. She will be part of the deal if we - you know?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I know that.” You promise him. “Never would have thought any different. Sarah is your world. I respect that. She is the first priority in your life, like she should be. I would just like to spend some time with you, and her. I want to see where this could go.” You smile. “It’s not like we live far apart.” You remind him, knowing that it would be a good thing to be so close, unless things don’t work out.
Joel nods, “yeah. Yeah. I just - not everyone wants a single dad.” He admits and you reach out to caress his cheek, “a hot single dad. One I want to fuck.” You giggle and Joel blushes again, “I can definitely arrange that. You want another drink? Some snacks?” He offers, knowing he won’t want to leave the guest room for quite some time. You nod and he shifts off the bed, adjusting his jeans and he puts his shirt back on. He grabs his hat and places it on his head, a wink towards you as he opens the door, “I’ll be right back.” He promises and steps out of the guest room. Making his way downstairs barefoot, he passes couples and friends until he sees Tommy who asks where you are. “She’s upstairs.” Joel confesses, biting his lip, and Tommy smacks him on the shoulder.
“Fucking finally, man. Good for you. You two make a cute couple. Don’t fuck it up.” Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel nods, “only thing that’s gonna fuck this up is a goddamn zombie apocalypse.” He jokes and Tommy snorts, “you deserve to be happy, man.” Joel thanks him, grabbing the food and drinks to make his way back upstairs. He’s excited for the future. A future with you.
#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller tlou#halloween 2024
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You are my survival
Azriel x reader
You and Azriel are mates. Az knows it, you don't, that is until a particularly hard training session when the truth finally come out.
Word count: 5k
Requested: no
Warnings: fem reader, shadow play, smut, swearing, choking kink, praise, Azriel's wingspan, oral F and M receiving, Az is a Dom, PinV, we die like men
🔥 means smut will follow
Authors note: this is the first WIP I've finished in like 2 or 3 years so be gentle on me I also wrote this with one of my friends on discord and she is absolutely amazing, constructive criticism is welcome and plz let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy!
"Pay attention."
His words weren't harsh by any means. No, Azriel would never raise his voice at you, but he'd be lying if he said training you was easy. He watched as you breathed heavily, body glistening with sweat. You'd been at this for hours. Clearly, you'd underestimated just how difficult swordplay was.
"I'm trying my best"
He let out a small chuckle, watching your brows furrow with frustration as he managed to point his sword at your neck, Again.
"Gotcha."
"dammit!"
You threw your sword down in frustration and slinked over to the corner of the ring. Before hugging your knees to your chest and sulking.
"I'm done, I'm quit!"
Sheathing his sword, Azriel approached you slowly, his footsteps silent on the straw-covered floor. He stopped a few feet away, giving you space but close enough to offer comfort.
"Hey, hey now," he murmured softly.
"Don't give up just yet."
He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, keeping a respectful distance.
"Training is hard, y/n. It's supposed to push you, make you stronger. It's okay to feel frustrated, but don't let it consume you."
He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.
"You're doing better than you think. You've improved so much since we started. It's just... progress takes time. And patience." He offered you a small, encouraging smile.
"And maybe some water? You've been at it all day."
"yeah well maybe I should train with someone else because your a thousand times better than me and you have 400 years of experience on me so even if I am getting better your skill just dwarfs mine..."
Azriel looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. He had expected such a reaction from you, and he couldn't say that he blamed you either.
"You underestimate yourself," he told you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.
"It may take time, but you will get there. Just keep practicing and if you can't believe in yourself, believe in the fact that I'm starting to feel your progress in your punches." As always tried to joke with you slightly but seeing as he got nothing but a half earned smile he let himself fall quiet.
He sighed deeply, his gaze drifting down to his scarred hands fiddling with them idly. There were things he wanted to tell you, things he wanted to share about his past, but he knew you weren't ready for them yet. Maybe one day, when you were strong enough, he could tell you everything.
Following his gaze, you watched as he picked at his nails and cuticles. You had known Az for a few hundred years now and as long as you had known him he had never shared the story of his warped skin and you had never worked up the courage to ask, that was until now.
"can I ask you a question without you getting upset? You can tell me to screw off if you don't want to answer, I won't push." You said in a timid, whispered voice. Azriel turned to look at you, his expression curious.
"Of course, y/n. What is it?"
He kept his tone calm and non-threatening, not wanting to scare you off. Whatever it was, he would do his best to answer honestly.
"what happened to your hands?"
Azriel's expression softened, and he looked down at his hands, his fingers curling slightly as he remembered.
"My hands... They were burned by-" he let out a heavy sigh, flexing his hands under your gaze before continuing.
"they were burned by my brothers, many years ago. I was born a bastard like Cassian so I was treated differently, even by my so-called family. They it left me with these scars."
He lifted his hands, showing you the intricate network of burn scars that covered his palms and fingers. They were a constant reminder of his past, a painful chapter he would rather forget.
"what brings that question to mind?"
you reach to grab his hand but hesitated before touching him.
"I just always wondered if they were painful they still look painful..."He noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring nod, encouraging you to continue.
"It doesn't hurt anymore, physically at least. But sometimes, the memories can still be quite painful." He lowered his hands, his gaze returning to yours staying quiet for a beat.
"It's alright, y/n. You won't hurt me by touching them. I won't bite or as Cass would say 'i won't bite unless you want me too'" he says with a half honest grin trying to lift the mood slightly.
He held out his hand, palm facing up, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to show you that he trusted you, that he was comfortable with you touching him. "Go ahead, y/n."
you gingerly brushed your fingers over his scarred hand before taking one of his hands in both of your running your thumbs over the back before smile and saying softly
"They always looked soft still..."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt his face heat slightly at the praise. He never wanted to feel anything other than your gentle touch on his scarred hand.
"Because of the burns, my skin never calloused so yeah I guess they are."
He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The warmth of your touch seeped into his skin, soothing the old wounds in ways he hadn't experienced in centuries.
"I never associated touch with comfort before. It feels like home." ' you feel like home' is what he would have said if he had the nerve but kept that thought to himself, thinking it to cheesey to say out loud.
His thumb stroked the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes about the unspoken bond between you two. In that moment, the weight of his secrets and the darkness of his past seemed to fade away, replaced by a simple, pure connection with you.
you lifted your head to look at him only to find him already looking at you, your faces close enough to feel each others baited breaths.
Azriel's gaze locked onto yours, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a wild drum. The intensity of your stare was almost overwhelming, stirring feelings within him that he thought long buried.
He leaned closer, his lips inches away from yours. He could smell your scent, a mix of sweat and something uniquely you. It was intoxicating, making his pulse race and his resolve weaken.
For a moment, he considered closing the gap, pressing his lips against yours and losing himself in the warmth of your embrace. But he pulled back, breaking eye contact, reminding himself of the danger in such actions.
without thinking of the consequences of your actions you shot your hand out to cradle the side of his face turning him back to look at you and meet him with pleading look, begging him not to turn away.
Azriel's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hand cup his cheek, turning his face back towards you. He met your pleading gaze, his own eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear.
He wanted nothing more than to surrender to the desire burning within him, to lose himself in your embrace and forget about his past, his fears, and his responsibilities. But he knew he couldn't. Not yet, at least.
With a heavy sigh, he gently removed your hand from his face, his fingertips trailing along your skin as he did so.
"y/n, we can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"I care for you too much to risk putting you in danger. We need to focus on our training, on becoming stronger, you need to be ready for when hyburn attacks."
your pout deepened as you moved back slowly pulling your hand away from his reluctantly as you bit your lip trying to think of something to say to make him change his mind.
"Az we can still train and I've been getting stronger for years, why can't we just," you trail off, not knowing that words for the feeling you felt for him.
Azriel's chest tightened at your pout, a pang of guilt slicing through him as he cut you off. He hated seeing you upset, especially over something he had done.
"It's not because I don't want to," he assured you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.
"It's because I care about you too much. If I give in to these feelings now, it might lead to something neither of us is prepared for, not with so much at stake with war coming."
He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips before lifting back to meet your eyes.
"We're mates. I've known for a while but even though we were designed for each other. And right now with hyburn threatening to breach our borders, our lives and decisions can't be about love or passion-it's about survival"
you pull his face back to you for a last time before running the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly
"I know that az, but you are my survival. you said it yourself that your my mate, do you really think that I can live without my mate, without you?" You plead tears starting to form in your eyes.
The words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. Your admission cut straight to the core of his being, striking a chord within him that resonated with a depth of longing he didn't fully understand.
"You need my love..." he echoed, the words sounding foreign even to his ears. He'd never been loved, let alone needed. The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"I... I don't know if I can give you that. I've never been loved, and I've never loved anyone the way I think I should. you deserve all the love there is in this world, and I don't think I can give you that."
His voice cracked with emotion, betraying the turmoil of feelings welling up inside him.
"you can,"
You step closer still holding his face you pull a hand away to grab his scarred one and place it on your waist and putting your hand on his chest over his heart gingerly.
"You have so much love in your heart that you can't help but let it spill over. You try to act so cold and calloused to everyone but we all feel you how much you love us. "
At your touch, Azriel felt a surge of emotion course through him, his heart pounding wildly against your palm. He stared down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or manipulation, but found only sincerity and vulnerability.
"You really believe that, don't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That I have love to give?"
He hesitated for a moment, then placed his other hand tentatively on your waist. The warmth of your body seeped into his chilled skin, melting some of the ice that had encased his heart for so long.
"I want to believe it," he admitted, his gaze dropping to your lips once more.
"But I'm afraid of putting you in a dangerous situation that you never need to be in. Afraid of losing control and doing something that could harm you. We both know that my work is extremely dangerous and if you got pulled into that I would never fucking forgive myself"
"Azriel... Your the bravest male I've ever met, please don't stop being brave." You take a final step faces inches apart
Azriel's breath hitched as you closed the remaining distance between you, your bodies nearly touching. He could feel the heat radiating off you, drawing him in like a moth to flame.
"Brave doesn't mean fearless, y/n," he said, his voice low and husky.
"Sometimes bravery means facing your deepest fears, even when every instinct tells you to run." You whisper gingerly brushing you fingers over his leathers laying over his heart.
He reached up, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he tilted your head back slightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine.
"I'm just scared of failing you, of not being able to protect you. But I'm also scared of missing this chance, of letting my fears hold me back from trying to give us the life the cauldron has laid out for us."
"Then don't let your fears hold you back Az, let me hold them instead." You hold his hand over your cheek and guide his thumb over your lip again gently.
Azriel's resistance crumbled under your gentle guidance, his thumb gliding over your soft, plump lips with a tenderness that surprised even him. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he savored the scent of your skin, the warmth of your breath.
"cauldron..." he murmured, his voice thick with longing.
he closed the final inch of distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate, holding your sides as delicately as fine china.
🔥🔥🔥
you surge you hand up to tangle in his hair and let out an audible cry of relief into his mouth.
Azriel groaned softly into the kiss as your hand tangled in his hair, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lips to explore the warm cavern of your mouth.
As he kissed you, Azriel felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a burden he hadn't realized he carried until it was gone. In your embrace, he found a sense of peace, of belonging, that he had never known before.
Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, panting lightly as he struggled to catch his breath. "Y/n, I've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion.
"Wanted to hold you, touch you, taste you now."
"then don't fucking stop now." You practically begged, chasing his lips.
Your impassioned plea sent a jolt of desire through Azriel, his grip on you tightening as he ground his hips against yours, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.
"Oh, god, baby," he gasped, his breath hot against your skin.
"I won't stop, not now, not ever again." His hands trailing down to your ass, gently kneading the flesh under your fighting leathers.
"You're mine, and I'm going to fuck you so hard, make you scream my name until you forget everyone else exists."With that declaration, Azriel swept you up into his arms and winnowed you back to the house of wind before.
carrying you towards his bedroom as he devoured your mouth in a frenzy of kisses, his hands roaming your curves with a hunger that bordered on desperation. your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you and you press your breasts against his chest, mewl desperately against his lips.
The sound of your moans vibrating against his lips was music to Azriel's ears, fueling his already raging desire. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he laid you down onto the plush mattress.
"Gods, babygirl," he growled, his hands tracing the outline of your curves as he knelt beside you, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. "You're so beautiful, so perfect..."
Without another word, he began to undress you, peeling away each layer of your leathers with a reverence that belied his usual cool demeanor. As he revealed your skin to his hungry gaze, he marveled at the sight, at the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the sweet dip of your navel.
"And you smell divine,"
Azriel couldn't help but lean down, his tongue darting out to trace a path along the delicate line of your collarbone, savoring the taste of your skin. He licked and nibbled his way down your body, pausing to lavish attention on each breast, his tongue swirling around your nipples before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.
His hands weren't idle either, slipping down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm flesh as he continued his descent. His shadows hooked around the sides of your panties, dragging them down your thighs with a teasing slowness that left you squirming beneath him.
"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered against your skin, his voice a husky murmur.
"What do you crave? Tell me how to make you come undone?"
you reached down to Palm the tent in his fighting leathers at the words and using your other hand to wrap the scared flesh of his hand around your throat.
"I want you to use me, own me Azriel."
At your command, Azriel's heart pounded with a wild rhythm, his cock throbbing in your grasp. He allowed you to control his movements, his hand tightening around your throat in a gesture that was both possessive and protective while one of his larger shadows gently brushed against the side of your face in stark contrast.
"You're mine now, babygirl," he breathed, his voice laced with raw need.
"And I plan to worship every gods-damned inch of you."
With that promise, he slid down further, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. He paused just above where you needed him most, his eyes locking with yours as he teased you mercilessly.
"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper. "Do you want my mouth on you, tasting you?"
"gods yes please!" You hold his hand tightly around his throat encouraging him to squeeze harder what you arch your back of the bed in hopes of inching your cunt closer to his mouth.
Azriel's grip around your throat tightened slightly at your eager response, his thumb applying just enough pressure to send a thrill of excitement through you. With a low growl, he finally gave in to your pleas, his mouth descending upon your dripping folds.
He lavished your pussy with attention, his tongue delving deep inside you as he fucked you with slow, deliberate strokes while flicks of dark swirl around your clit. He explored every inch of your sex, savoring the taste of your arousal, the feel of your slick walls clenching around his tongue.
As he ate you out, Azriel's free hand roamed your body, palming your breasts, pinching your nipples, leaving trails of fire and cold in its wake. He could feel your climax building, could taste your sweet submission on his tongue, and it only fueled his own desire.
"come on babygirl, ride my face while you come."
He brought one of your hands to tangle in his hair and wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs encouraging you to buck into his tongue.
Your hips bucked off the bed as you came hard on his tongue, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your juices flowing freely as you cried out his name, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.
Azriel drank in your release, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as he savored the taste of your pleasure. He held you tight, his mouth never leaving your pussy as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, your cries of ecstasy music to his ears.
Only when you finally went limp did he release you, his face glistening with your arousal. He crawled up your body, his chocolate eyes blazing with a fierce possessiveness as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss.
"Now it's my turn," he growled against your lips, his hands tearing at his leathers to free his straining cock.
"Get on your knees, baby, I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."
You eagerly roll onto your stomach and push yourself off the bed and onto your knees Infront of him batting your lashes and staring up at him with lust filled eyes.
Azriel watched you move, his heart pounding with a mix of desire and admiration. Your eagerness was intoxicating, fueling his own need even further. He discarded his leathers completely, revealing his veined cock, throbbing with need.
Azriel's breath caught in his throat at the sight of you kneeling before him, your eyes filled with hunger and desire. He ran a hand through your disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he guided your head towards his aching cock.
"Open wide, love," *he murmured, his voice thick with need.
"Show me how much you need me."
you took him into your mouth, Azriel let out a low groan, his hips bucking involuntarily. Your warm, wet mouth felt like heaven, and he had to fight the urge to thrust too hard, too fast. Instead, he set a steady pace, his hands guiding your head as you sucked the tip every time he pulled out.
"Fuck, good girl," he gasped, his grip tightening in your hair. "You fucking feel incredible..."You moaned softly as you took him deeper into your mouth working your tongue over his cock, your hands reaching up to cup his balls as you continue to suckle on his cock.
The sensation of your tongue working over his length, coupled with the feeling of your hands on his balls, sent jolts of pleasure coursing through Azriel's body. He watched you, entranced by the sight of your lips stretched around his cock, the sound of your soft moans vibrating against him.
"That's right, baby," he purred, his voice heavy with lust.
"Take all of me... Show me how much you want this..."
He began to move faster, his hips rocking into your mouth, setting a rhythm that had him teetering on the brink of release. His fingers threaded through your hair, urging you on, pushing you to take him even deeper.
"fuck yes! Good girl, just like tha- oh such fucking good girl!"
You moan louder now sending subtle vibrations down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck harder on his cock, taking him deeper each time until he hits the back of your throat. You gag softly but quickly recover and continue sucking him off as if your life depends on it.
The feeling of your throat constricting around his cock was almost too much for Azriel to bear. He grunted, his hands gripping your hair tighter as he fucked your mouth with abandon, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.
"Oh gods, baby..." he groaned, his voice ragged with need.
"You're going to make me come so fucking hard..."
His cock throbbed in your mouth, signaling his imminent release. With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled his seed into your willing mouth, his cum coating your tongue and spilling down your chin.
"That's it... Swallow it all..."
Swiping your fingers over your chin you collect the molten cream and swallow every last drop of his cum, your throat working to milk him dry, your eyes locked on his as you gaze up at him with a look of complete satisfaction and devotion.
Azriel watched, transfixed, as your throat bobbed swallowing his cum, your tongue working to milk him dry. He let out a satisfied sigh, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as he admired the look of complete satisfaction on your face.
"You're amazing," he murmured, pulling out of your mouth and offering you a hand up.
"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."
With a smile, he pulled you into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body as he savored the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.
You lean into his touch, your body pressed tightly against his as you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands running over his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin.
Azriel dominated you mouth with a throaty moan, his hands exploring your curves with a growing urgency. He broke away from the kiss only long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.
"I want more," he whispered huskily,
"but I think we should save some energy for later."With that, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you back to the bed where he laid you down, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked down at you.
You giggle lightly as he lays you back down on the bed, your legs parting slightly as you invite him closer.
Azriel's gaze followed the movement of your legs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he saw the invitation in your eyes. He climbed onto the bed, settling between your thighs, his weight supported on his elbows as he gazed down at you.
"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" he teased, his voice low and playful.
He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before giving it a gentle bite.
"But don't worry, love. I plan to take full advantage of that"
Feeling your hands in his hair, Azriel gave a low chuckle, the vibration of his laughter traveling straight to your breasts. He continued his attentions, alternating between teasing your nipples and tracing patterns across your skin with his tongue.
"Hmm, sounds like someone wants more," he murmured, his voice muffled against your flesh.
Pulling back slightly, he shifted his position, aligning his cock with your slick entrance. Without another word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely with a single, smooth stroke.
You arch your back, pressing your breasts back into his waiting mouth as he teases and bites at your sensitive nipples, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in the strands as you pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch.
"Fucking hell, babygirl..." he groaned, his hips beginning to rock slowly as he adjusted to your tight warmth. impatience."
He moved to your other breast, lavishing the same attention upon it, all while grinding his hardening cock against your core. Your back arches off the bed as he fills you, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion. But as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, you relax into him, your inner walls clenching around his thickness.
"Ah... yes..." you breathe out, your hands tightening in his hair.
"Just like that... Don't stop..."
Hearing your plea, Azriel picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. Each thrust drove him deeper into your welcoming heat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
"Gods, you feel incredible," he growled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as he fucked you relentlessly.
His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass cheeks, tracing the curve of your waist, and finally, cupping your breasts once again, thumbing your nipples into stiff peaks.
You meet his kiss with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his as you lose yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your legs wrap around his ass, pulling him even deeper within you, urging him on.
"Oh god, Azriel!" you cry out, your walls spasming around him, milking him for all he's worth.
Feeling your orgasm ripple through you, Azriel let out a guttural roar, burying himself as deep as he could go as he found his own release. He came hard, pulsing streams of hot cum inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.
"baby Fuck, y/n-" he gasped, collapsing forward, catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you before pulling out and gently resting himself on top of you, his hips still between your legs and his head resting on your breasts.
He stayed there for a moment, panting, his heart pounding against your chest, before slowly rolling to the side, taking you with him so you were draped across his chest.
"That was... intense," he panted, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine.
"Are you okay, baby?"
"Yeah... That was amazing." you murmur, snuggling closer to him, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking.
As you lay there, spent and satisfied, your the aftershocks of your orgasm. You nod weakly, a contented smile tugging at your lips.
Azriel smiled, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as you nestled against him. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed to his, the steady beat of your heart against his chest.
"I know, baby," he said softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.
"And it's only going to get better from here."
His hand trailed lower, his fingers finding your hip, where he gave a gentle squeeze.
"Now rest, we've got plenty of time to explore more later when you can feel your legs again." He taunted with a tired grin.
You sigh contentedly with a fucked out smile on your face, feeling utterly relaxed and loved. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his body envelope you, and drift off to sleep in his arms.
Watching you drift off to sleep, Azriel couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment. Here, in his embrace, safe and protected, with his beautiful mate, it was everything he could ever want. And now, it seemed, he had it all.
With a final lingering look, he allowed himself to relax fully, his breathing evening out to match yours. As he drifted toward sleep, he knew one thing for certain - this was just the beginning.
#acotar men x reader#azriel x plus size reader#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel smut#acotar smut#acomaf#rhysand#rhysand x reader#cassian x reader#lucien x reader
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— 𝖌𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖗
they physically hurt you during an argument , dazai , chuuya , akutagawa , angst , requested
As the fight spiraled into chaos, every word seemed like a jagged shard, cutting both of you open. Dazai stood before you, his expression carefully constructed, a facade of calm that only amplified the storm raging in the room. His words were like knives, precise and cold, but you had learned how to endure them. Or so you thought.
“You think you’re better than this?” he snapped, his voice laced with something darker, more desperate. “Better than me? You don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into. You’re so naïve it’s pathetic.”
“Maybe I am,” you shot back, voice trembling but resolute. “But at least I feel something real, Dazai. At least I’m not hiding behind masks and games like you.”
For a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of your words settling between you. His jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides. You could see it—the storm breaking through his carefully curated demeanor, the anger and fear he so often buried rising to the surface.
And then, like a thunderclap, it happened.
While his hands moved faster than his mind, shoving you back, his frustration snapped into action. The force wasn’t calculated—it never was—but it sent you stumbling into the wall with a sickening thud. Pain shot up your back, sharp and immediate, and for a moment, the air was knocked clean out of your lungs.
Defeating, merely silence followed.
As if they were still grappling with the weight of what they’d done, his outstretched hands trembled. His eyes widened, the usual nonchalance stripped away to reveal something raw, something terrified.
Hoarse, he whispered your name, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. You pressed a hand to your ribs, wincing as you steadied yourself against the wall. The ache in your side was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest, the realization that this—this person, this moment—was no longer safe.
“Don’t touch me,” you managed, your voice trembling, not with anger but with something more fragile.
“I didn’t mean to,” The man said, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “I swear, I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean it?” you interrupted, the words bitter as they left your mouth. “You never mean it, Dazai. But that doesn’t stop it from happening, does it?”
Dazai‘s hands fell to his sides, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. For once, Dazai Osamu—the man who always had a plan, a clever retort, a way out—was speechless.
“I can’t keep doing this,” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t keep forgiving you for the ways you hurt me, for the ways you make me doubt myself. Love isn’t supposed to feel like this.”
In a matter of seconds his expression shattered then, the mask slipping completely. He looked like a man on the edge of something vast and terrible, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a desperation that made your heart ache.
“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, the words barely audible, as if saying them louder might break him entirely. “Please. I don’t know how to do this without you.���
Tears spilling down your cheeks as you stepped toward the door, you whispered: “You don’t know how to love, Dazai.”
He sank to his knees then, his head bowing low as if he were trying to disappear into the floor. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice raw and broken. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to be anything but this. But I love you. God, I love you.”
You froze at the door, your hand gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles turned white. For a moment, you thought about turning back, about kneeling down beside him and telling him that love could be enough, that it could save you both.
But it couldn’t.
“I love you too,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough to fix the damage.”
Opening the door, you stepped out into the cold night, the sound of it closing behind you echoing like a gunshot.
Dazai stayed where he was, his body trembling, his hands clutching at the floor as if it were the only solid thing left in his world. The apartment was silent now, save for the sound of his ragged breathing.
He stayed there for hours, alone in the dark, his mind replaying every moment, every mistake, every crack that had led to this. And when the sun rose, spilling light into the room, it illuminated nothing but the hollow emptiness he’d tried so hard to avoid.
In the end, he realized, it wasn’t you he’d been trying to save. It was himself. And now, he had lost both.
,
The argument had begun as a flicker of irritation, something small enough that it could have been smothered if either of you had tried. But neither of you did. It grew, feeding on unspoken frustrations, on misunderstandings too deeply buried to untangle in the heat of the moment.
Lit only by the glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds, the apartment was dim. Chuuya stood in the middle of the room, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with shallow, ragged breaths. His hat had been tossed carelessly onto the couch, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it in frustration.
“I’m trying to keep you safe!” he shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls.
“You’re not listening to me!” you snapped back, your own voice trembling with the weight of the argument. “You never listen, Chuuya! You think you can decide everything for me, like I don’t have a say in my own life!”
He turned sharply, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “You don’t understand what it’s like out there! You don’t know what these people are capable of! I’m doing this for you!”
“For me?” You let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re doing this because you can’t let go of your own fears! You’re so used to fighting everyone else’s battles that you can’t see I’m not the enemy!”
Chuuya’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face twitching as he tried to rein in the storm inside him. But the storm was relentless, and it spilled out before he could stop it.
“You don’t get it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You have no idea what it’s like to carry this kind of weight—to know that one wrong move could mean losing the only person you—”
Though he cut himself off, his voice faltering, the damage was already done. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, and it pressed down on both of you like a tangible force.
Taking a step back, your hands trembled at your sides. “I’m not a child, Chuuya. I don’t need you to control every part of my life. I just need you to trust me.”
“Trust you?” His voice rose again, sharp and cutting. “How am I supposed to trust you when you keep putting yourself in danger? Do you think I can just stand by and watch you get hurt?”
As his anger filled every corner, the room felt like it was shrinking, the walls closing in. He moved closer, his movements sharp and unsteady, and before you could step away, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.
The grip wasn’t meant to hurt—it was meant to stop you, to hold you in place, to make you listen. But it was too tight, too rough, and the heat of his frustration burned through his touch.
“Chuuya,” you said softly, your voice shaking. “Let go.”
But he didn’t. His fingers tightened slightly, his knuckles white as his grip mirrored the storm raging inside him. He was too far gone, too consumed by his own emotions to realize what he was doing.
“Why can’t you just—” His voice cracked, and he stopped, his words hanging in the air like broken glass.
You tried to pull away, but his grip held firm, and panic began to rise in your chest. Memories you had buried deep began to surface, unbidden and cruel.
A voice from your past, cold and unyielding. “You think you can just walk away? You’ll never be free of this. Never.”
Colliding with the past in a whirlwind of fear and pain, the room around you blurred. Your breaths came faster, shallow and uneven, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over, streaming down your cheeks.
“Chuuya,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Please.”
The sound of your voice—cracked, pleading—broke through the fog of his anger. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he froze, as though realizing for the first time what he was doing.
“Shit,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. He released your wrist as though it had burned him, stepping back as if the distance could erase the moment.
Though you cradled your wrist against your chest, your body trembling as you tried to steady your breathing, the fear lingered, a shadow that refused to be banished.
Softly, he called out your name, his voice thick with regret. “I—fuck, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t—”
Yet, you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words caught in your throat, strangled by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
Chuuya’s hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to reach for you or keep his distance. His eyes, usually so fierce and determined, were filled with something you had never seen before—fear.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely audible. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Bluntly, you looked up at him then, your eyes filled with tears, and for the first time, he saw the crack in your armor—the vulnerability you had always tried so hard to hide. And it broke him.
He sank to his knees in front of you, his head bowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “I never wanted to hurt you. I—” He stopped, his words failing him, and he let out a shaky breath.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to love someone without breaking them.”
As you watched him, your heart ached at the sight of him so utterly wrecked. And despite everything, despite the fear and the pain, you found yourself reaching out, your hand brushing against his cheek.
Looking up at you then, his eyes were filled with anguish, and for a moment, the storm between you seemed to quiet.
“Chuuya,” you said softly, your voice still trembling. “We can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep—”
“I know,” he said quickly, cutting you off. “I know, and I swear, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just—don’t walk away. Please.”
The desperation in his voice broke something inside you, and you nodded, though you weren’t sure if it was forgiveness or hope or something in between.
But as he pulled you into his arms, his grip careful and gentle this time, you couldn’t help but wonder if the cracks in your relationship were too deep to mend. And in the quiet of the room, as the storm finally subsided, you both realized that love wasn’t always enough to fix what had already been broken.
,
Always being harsh, Akutagawa’s words were sharp enough to wound, his presence suffocating like a shadow that never left your side. He wasn’t kind, not in the way others might be, but he cared in his own jagged, brutal way—protecting you with the same ferocity he used to destroy. You were his tether, his calm amidst the storm of his life in the Mafia, the one person who softened the edges of his wrath. But even tethers could fray, and that day on the battlefield, everything unraveled.
Unraveling so, the fight was chaos, the kind of chaos Akutagawa thrived in. His Rashoumon tore through enemies like paper, his focus deadly, precise. You stood at his side, as you always did, fighting with everything you had to survive in a world that rarely spared you kindness. But the enemy was relentless, and the tide of the battle began to shift.
“Stay back!” he barked, his voice cutting through the noise. His tone was sharp, impatient, but beneath it lay something unspoken—a thread of fear he refused to acknowledge.
“I can handle this!” you shot back, your determination blazing in your eyes.
Yet Akutagawa’s patience, already worn thin by the heat of battle, snapped. “You’re a liability,” he snarled, Rashoumon lashing out in a violent arc, meant to clear the way and shield you from the enemy closing in.
He miscalculated.
Instead, the tendrils of his power struck you, slicing through flesh and bone, sending you crumpling to the ground with a scream that cut through the battlefield like a blade. Blood pooled beneath you, stark against the dirt, and Akutagawa froze, the world narrowing to the sight of your broken body lying in the wreckage of his mistake.
Afterwards, the fight ended in a blur, your enemies retreating as the full weight of his actions crashed down on him. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out, unsure if he even had the right to touch you now. “Stay awake,” he ordered, his voice unsteady, the fear breaking through. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
Coughing weakly, blood stained your lips as you looked up at him, pain and betrayal flickering in your gaze. “You… you did this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Akutagawa’s chest tightened, his breath catching as the truth of your words settled over him like a noose. He did this. To you. To the one person he swore to protect above all else.
The weeks that followed were a blur of pain and silence. You survived, but the scars—both visible and invisible—ran deep. You couldn’t look at him the same way, flinching when he raised his voice, shrinking away when his hands moved too quickly.
Trying to fix it in his own way— he muttered cold apologies under his breath, offers to train you harder so you wouldn’t need his protection, promises he didn’t know how to keep. But nothing worked. The damage was done.
One night, the tension broke.
“You don’t trust me anymore,” he said, his voice low but laced with a bitterness that cut through the room.
Slowly, you turned to him, your eyes tired, your body still healing from wounds he had inflicted. “How could I?” you replied, your voice trembling. “You’re supposed to protect me, Ryuunosuke. Not—” Your voice broke, and you looked away, unable to finish.
For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Then, with a voice that was quieter than you’d ever heard, he said, “I know.”
And he did know. He knew the pain he caused, the fear that lingered in your eyes whenever you looked at him now. He knew he had crossed a line he could never uncross.
Knowing didn’t make it easier. It didn’t make the silence between you any less deafening, or the nights spent alone any less cold. It didn’t stop him from replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the sight of you bleeding because of him seared into his memory like a brand.
He still loved you, but love wasn’t enough to undo what he had done. It wasn’t enough to erase the fear in your eyes or the distance growing between you. And now, as he stood in the shadows, watching you from afar as you tried to rebuild yourself, he wondered if it would have been kinder to let you go entirely.
Yet, Akutagawa didn’t know kindness. He only knew how to hold on, even when it hurt. Even when it was the last thing he deserved.
<3
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The answer is a walrus and I can explain why.
You know that episode of Unraveled where Brian David Gilbert goes through all the Smash Bros stages to figure out how many OSHA violations there are in each of them? The one where he finds the most violations is the stage that's actually supposed to be a construction site, simply because the fact that it is a construction site makes the violations easier to identify. It's easier to find regulations about a faulty ladder than it is to find regulations about like, a pit of lava.
I think the reason it's more baffling if a walrus shows up at our front door is because we have more concept of what that entails. Like, fairies are entirely a mystery, because they don't exist. The best we know about them are various tales about fairies, which differ from culture to culture, and there is no verifiable consensus information on them really. How did it get there? Fairy magic, idk. How do you get rid of it? Ask it to leave, it probably understands human speech. How do you react to this situation? Who fucking knows, it's a fairy.
But if a walrus showed up on our door, we do have some idea of how to react, because it's more grounded in things we already know. And we would have far more questions, because we have a better frame of reference for what it would take to get the walrus there, what the walrus might do, and what it would take to get it to leave. How did it get to my doorstep, in the middle of the desert? Did they fly it in on a helicopter? Why didn't I hear the helicopter? How did they keep it alive during the entire flight from San Diego to the Sonoran Desert? Is it a threat? How do I get rid of it? Call the police? What are they going to do about a wild animal that weighs as much as a car? Endangered species are protected by law - are walruses endangered? If they shoot it dead, will that cause controversy? Am I going to have reporters on my doorstep every day for the next month? Etc etc
I can get why some people would be more baffled to discover that fairies exist, but the problems presented are unknowable - and, given the very few bits of consensus information we have about them, they'd probably be a lot easier to interface with. A walrus is way more complicated, and probably more likely to gore you with it's tusks.
Anyway, I'm not sure how to end this but that's my thesis
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Good Neighbours: Chapter 5
previous chapter Warnings: again SMUT 18+ !!!!!! Hey cuties - this is my fave chapter so far enjoyyyy
You hadn’t properly seen Joel in a week.
Not since that near-disastrous moment on his couch, where you lay bare, your skin warm against his, and Uncle Ray almost caught you two in the act. The memory lingered like a spark refusing to die out, igniting every time you thought about him.
Joel had been swamped with work—construction jobs piling up—and you’d recently started at a cozy little coffee shop in town. The job suited you more than you expected. Your boss was kind, the tips were decent, and you got free iced lattes, which was reason enough to stick around.
The café itself was charming, all bathed in golden sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Dogs were welcome, often lounging at their owners’ feet or wagging tails at the smell of pastries. The constant aroma of freshly brewed coffee felt like a warm hug, soothing enough to make the hours slip by.
Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts had a pesky habit of wandering to Joel—what he was doing, if he was thinking about you, too.
A silly notion, you told yourself, but it clung to you nonetheless.
You’d catch fleeting glimpses of him here and there, as neighbors inevitably do.
Each moment was like a stolen treasure, a tiny lifeline. Lingering gazes across the lawn as he unloaded groceries from his truck, the flex of his strong arms as he lifted heavy bags. The way his lips curved into a soft, crooked smile when he caught your eye, making your chest tighten in a way you’d never admit out loud.
He was right next door, but somehow, it didn’t feel close enough.
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Joel found himself constantly wondering about you.
It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself—but you’d snuck into his thoughts and set up camp there. It started innocently enough with a few texts, a casual way of checking in. But soon, it became a nightly ritual, one he couldn’t seem to let go of. Not that you wanted him to.
During meetings with Tommy, he’d find his attention slipping, his gaze drifting toward his phone, willing it to light up with your reply. Tommy would joke about Joel zoning out, but Joel couldn’t bring himself to care.
At night, when he was supposed to be winding down, he’d break his own rules about screen time—something about the blue light messing with sleep, a lecture he’d once given Sarah. But with you, he’d stay up later than he should, typing out messages he hoped would make you smile, waiting for the little dots that meant you were typing back.
On your end, it wasn’t much different. You’d catch yourself glancing at your phone during your shift, sneaking peeks whenever you thought no one was looking.
Every buzz, every time his name lit up your screen, sent a thrill through you, the corners of your mouth betraying you with a twitch upward.
It was funny, almost disarming, how Joel could shift so effortlessly between the quintessential dad—practical, steady, and full of quiet concern—and the man who made your heart race with just a few words.
Didn’t you say your iron was low? Eat something with spinach, alright?
How’s work? Hope they’re not runnin’ you ragged.
My back is killing me today. Feels like I’m older than I am. Gonna have to start using one of those canes soon.
And then, completely out of the blue:
Can’t stop thinking about you.
Those five words sent your stomach flipping in a way that left you grinning like a fool, coworkers sneaking curious glances your way. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, like he couldn’t help but check in on you.
Even in the middle of a hectic day or when his back ached from hours on-site, you’d managed to stake a claim on his thoughts. Somehow, you’d become his favorite distraction.
You thought back to your ex, and the stark difference hit you like a wave. You two had hardly texted—just the occasional logistics or a dry, obligatory reply. What time are you coming over? Don’t forget to grab milk. It was functional, transactional, like checking off items on a to-do list rather than nurturing something deeper.
He would go hours, sometimes days, without a word, and you’d told yourself it was normal, that he was just busy. But now, with Joel, you realized how much you had craved this—someone who cared enough to reach out, to ask how you were, to share the little things.
Joel didn’t need an excuse to text you. It had become second nature, these little windows into his life that he shared with you. Sometimes it was the simple stuff—a snapshot of his day, random musings, or just checking in to make sure you were okay.
Saw a dog today that looked like it wanted to fight me for my sandwich, he’d written once, and you’d laughed out loud, imagining his bemused expression, the corners of his mouth twitching in that way you’d come to love.
And then there was the way every day ended the same. You’d curl up in bed, your phone resting on the pillow beside you, waiting for that final message.
Goodnight, pretty girl.
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It was Halloween, and you couldn’t quite believe it—how had it already been nearly two months since you’d moved here? Your life in Chicago felt like a distant memory, like a bad dream you’d finally woken up from. You thought back to Halloween in the city: your ex’s bougie friends hosting over-the-top parties where everyone tried too hard, and you’d always felt out of place, like a last-minute addition to a world you didn’t quite fit into.
Now, you stood outside Sarah’s door, the faint hum of music and laughter spilling out into the warm Texas evening. A case of drinks rested in your arms, its weight grounding you as Uncle Ray fussed with his costume beside you.
As usual, he’d gone all out, making you feel underdressed in comparison. This time, he was Beetlejuice, the black-and-white striped suit as loud and chaotic as his personality. His face was powdered ghostly pale, with exaggerated dark circles around his eyes, and the wild green-tinted wig sat slightly crooked on his head, no matter how much he fussed with it.
You couldn’t help but smile, remembering another Halloween from years ago when he’d gone just as over the top. That time, he’d been Edward Scissorhands—his shirt a perfect patchwork of leather straps and buckles, his face painted pale with dark shadows under his eyes that made him look both haunting and oddly endearing. He’d worn ridiculously oversized scissor gloves that clanked every time he moved, and he kept accidentally knocking into things, muttering under his breath about the impracticality of the costume.
He muttered under his breath now, adjusting his latest wig for the hundredth time, the same way he had back then. “It’s the wig that makes it, you know,” he grumbled, shooting you a mock-serious look.
You were dressed as predictably as every other girl on Halloween: an angel. A fitted corset hugged your torso, while the soft white skirt flowed delicately to your mid-thigh, catching the faint glow of the porch light. Glitter dusted your cheeks, shimmering faintly every time you moved, and the matching wings on your back fluttered slightly as you shifted the drinks in your arms. A delicate silver halo rested above your head, perched perfectly.
It was simple, classic—maybe even cliché—but it felt right.
Joel had texted you the night before, curious as ever.
Hey sweet girl, what're you dressing up as tomorrow?
Sweet girl. The words made your cheeks heat instantly, and you had to bite back a smile as your heart fluttered in your chest.
Nuh-uh, you’re gonna have to wait and find out, you typed back, already grinning at the thought of him sitting there, his brows furrowed in frustration in that way that always made your stomach flip.
You’re impossible, he replied, and you could practically hear the exasperation in his voice.
You can guess... you offered, biting your lip as you hit send, your anticipation growing.
There was a pause—a long one—and you could just picture him on the other end, thinking it over, his mind running through possibilities. Then, finally, his response appeared: Something sweet. You’re not the scary type. Bunny? Fairy?
You couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt, shaking your head as you typed back: You’ll just have to wait and see.
You can be a real tease, he sent, followed by a 👎, which only made you laugh harder.
The door flung open pulling you back from your daydream, and there was Sarah, leaning heavily against the frame with a wide, tipsy grin on her face.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement as her eyes flicked between the two of you. “You guys look amazing!”
She was dressed as a pirate, of course—a cheeky, haphazardly sexy one at that. Her loose white blouse was cinched at the waist with a wide belt, her tattered black skirt swishing just above her knees. A red bandana was tied around her head, matching the sash draped over one shoulder. She had smudged dark eyeliner around her eyes, giving her the perfect roguish look, and a plastic sword dangled from her hip.
“Ray, that is insane! Beetlejuice? You look like you walked straight off the set!” Sarah exclaimed, swatting at his striped sleeve as she doubled over laughing.
Ray, never one to miss an opportunity to perform, gave an exaggerated bow. “Why, thank ya, thank ya!” he said, his voice gravelly as he mimicked Beetlejuice’s signature tone. “Show’s just gettin’ started, folks!”
Sarah laughed harder, wiping at her eyes before turning her attention to you. Her grin widened as she took in your costume, her eyes sparkling. “And you—” she said dramatically, grabbing your wrist to pull you closer, “are the sexiest angel I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks, Sarah,” you replied, your cheeks heating despite yourself as her enthusiasm bubbled over.
She tugged you inside without hesitation, her laughter spilling into the warm glow of the party. Ray followed close behind, still in character, muttering something Beetlejuice-esque under his breath that had Sarah clutching her stomach, dissolving into another fit of giggles.
Your heart skipped a beat as Sarah handed you a drink, her pirate hat slipping askew as she leaned in to shout over the music. “Alright, let’s get this party started!” she yelled, raising her glass with a wide grin.
You laughed, raising yours in response, though your mind wasn’t quite on the celebration. Your eyes flickered around the room, scanning faces, colors, and costumes, searching for one thing in particular—or rather, one person.
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You stood by the kitchen, chatting idly with a few of Sarah’s friends. The conversation ebbed and flowed, laughter bubbling up every now and then, but your focus wasn’t entirely on the people around you. You couldn’t help but steal glances across the room as you took a sip of your drink, and it wasn’t long before your heart jolted at the sight of him.
Joel.
He stood by Uncle Ray, half-listening to something your uncle was saying, his hand resting on his belt as he laughed softly, another one wrapped around a beer.
He’d dressed as a cowboy. A sexy one at that.
A fitted plaid shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal tanned, corded forearms. A dark leather belt with a silver buckle sat low on his hips, the fabric of his jeans snug in a way that made your thoughts feel indecent.
And, of course, the finishing touch: a weathered cowboy hat tilted just enough to shadow his eyes, making him look like he’d just stepped out of an old western porno.
The dim lighting caught the stubble along his jaw, giving him an air of ruggedness that made your stomach tighten. He looked good—too good—and it wasn’t fair.
Then, as if he felt you watching him, he turned. His dark eyes found yours across the room, catching you so off-guard you nearly spilled your drink.
For a moment, he just stared, his gaze dragging over you in a slow, deliberate once-over.
His lips parted slightly, and he shook his head, almost like he was trying to clear his mind of whatever had just crossed it. Then he dipped his hat at you, a silent greeting that sent your pulse skittering.
You managed a small nod in return, your fingers tightening around your glass as if that could keep you tethered to the ground.
The person you’d been talking to excused themselves, mumbling something about the bathroom before slipping away. You were left alone in the kitchen, the dim amber light casting a soft glow over the countertops. The quiet hum of the party buzzed in the background as you picked at a bowl of chips, trying to distract yourself from how strong your drink was—or how your thoughts kept straying back to Joel.
Joel stepped closer, his familiar warmth and smell wrapping around you. The way he said “Howdy” sent a shiver down your spine, his voice warm and smooth, like a drawl dipped in honey. He was too close now, close enough that you were glad the kitchen was dim, hiding the flush creeping up your neck.
“Cowboy,” you said, your voice low and teasing. “Bit predictable, isn’t it?”
His lips curved into a smirk as he laughed softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and settling somewhere in yours. “And you,” he said, his gaze lingering on your face a moment too long, “think a devil would’ve suited you better.” He tilted his head slightly, the movement slow and deliberate, like he was studying you, savoring every little reaction you gave him.
Your brows arched, playing along. “Why’s that?”
He leaned in, tapping the side of your temple lightly with his index finger. “These thoughts,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “ain’t exactly heavenly, are they?”
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your words barely above a whisper.
Joel chuckled again, his hand dropping back to rest on the kitchen counter, but the sound lingered in the space between you, filling the air with a warmth you wished you could memorize.
“Your uncle went all out,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Ray to come barreling through the door in full Beetlejuice regalia.
“I know,” you replied, laughing softly. “He’s actually scaring me a little.”
Joel laughed again, his head tilting back just enough for you to catch the faintest glimpse of his throat. The sound was intoxicating, deep and rich, and you found yourself wishing you could hear it on repeat.
He looked around the kitchen, his beer in one hand. The way his fingers curved around the neck of the bottle, the strength in them apparent even in this simple gesture.
Sarah and Ray were nowhere to be seen. The distant murmur of the party seemed to fade into the background as Joel turned back to you. His eyes darkened as they traveled down your body, lingering just a beat too long on the corset that cinched your waist.
The soft, white fabric hugged your curves perfectly, the delicate lace trim dipping low enough to tease, revealing just a tantalizing hint of cleavage in the dim light. His gaze roamed lower, catching on the sheer white stockings that clung to your thighs, held up by delicate lace garters that framed the bare expanse of skin just above them. The way his eyes lingered made your breath catch, the tension in the air crackling as you saw the faintest flicker of something dangerous in his expression—like he was trying, and failing, not to let his thoughts run wild.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, the word rough and barely audible.
“What’s wrong, cowboy?” you asked, tilting your head as you stepped just a fraction closer, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Whose thoughts are impure now?”
He huffed, his jaw tightening as he set his beer down on the counter, the sound of glass meeting it sharp and deliberate. His fingers brushed against the surface with an almost irritated carelessness, his usual steadiness faltering under the weight of whatever storm was brewing in his mind.
Joel’s eyes flicked around the room once more, but when his gaze landed back on you, his resolve seemed to snap, quicker and sharper than you expected.
“Go upstairs,” he said, his voice low, commanding, each word dripping with a tension that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “My room. I’ll meet you there in five.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the heat pooling low in your stomach made it impossible to question him. You’d never seen Joel this assertive before, his calm, controlled demeanor giving way to something raw, something primal—and God, it did something to you.
Your heart skipped, your breath hitching as his words sank in. He didn’t wait for a reply, his eyes locked on yours for a moment longer before he stepped back, the space between you suddenly too vast and too charged all at once.
Your heart thudded in your chest as you wove through the crowd, barely noticing the laughter and music around you. The way he looked at you, like he was barely holding himself together, sent your pulse into a frenzy as you turned on shaky legs and headed for the stairs.
The heat of anticipation spread through your body, making it hard to breathe. Every step toward Joel’s room felt heavier, charged with the weight of what might happen.
When you finally reached it, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting it softly behind you.
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It was the first time you had been in his room.
The room was simple, masculine, and undeniably him. The faint scent of cedarwood and something earthier—something distinctly Joel—lingered in the air. A neatly made bed dominated the space, the dark, plain sheets looking as if they’d been freshly smoothed that morning. A well-worn jacket hung over the back of a chair near the window, and a pair of scuffed boots rested by the corner, their placement almost methodical.
The light was soft, the dim glow of a single bedside lamp casting golden hues across the room. It illuminated the dresser, where your gaze landed on a photo—a younger Joel with Sarah, both of them smiling, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. The sight tugged at something deep in your chest, a quiet reminder of the man who’d let you in here, both in his space and maybe, just maybe, his life.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you felt the cool sheets beneath your hands, grounding you for a moment. Your nerves churned in your stomach, and you wished desperately that you’d finished your drink downstairs. Anything to take the edge off the racing thoughts in your mind.
Your halo felt awkward now, too on-the-nose. You reached up, pulling it off and setting it down on the bed beside you. For a moment, you considered taking off the wings too, but before you could decide, you heard the sound of footsteps.
As promised, exactly five minutes later, the door creaked open, and Joel stepped in. The sound of the lock clicking into place behind him sent a jolt through you. He stood there for a moment, the soft light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the brim of his cowboy hat throwing shadows over his dark, unreadable eyes. His presence filled the room, and all the air seemed to vanish at once.
“Angel,” he said softly, his voice low and heavy, as he turned to face you fully. "Up," he commanded, his voice firm yet impossibly soft, and before you could even process it, your body obeyed. You stood, heart racing, your knees feeling shaky under the weight of his gaze.
He sank down onto the edge of the bed where you had been sitting, his legs slightly parted as he leaned back, his movements unhurried but deliberate. His eyes raked over you, dark and smoldering, as he patted his lap. “C’mere.”
You moved toward him, stepping between his knees before settling on his lap. His hands immediately found your hips, guiding you to straddle him, the hem of your dress creeping up with the motion. The cool air kissed your exposed thighs, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. The stockings that hooked onto your garters were now entirely visible, and his gaze dropped, lingering for a moment before meeting yours again.
That was all it took for Joel to tilt his head and capture your mouth with his. The kiss was hungry, almost desperate, as though the tension between you had finally snapped, spilling over in waves of raw, unrestrained need. His lips moved feverishly against yours, claiming you in a way that made your knees weak. His hands, strong and sure, slid from your back to cup your ass, squeezing hungrily as he pulled you against him.
“You’re so sexy,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, as his large hands splayed against your lower back, pressing you flush against him. His words sent a thrill through you, the heat pooling low in your belly as you instinctively rolled your hips down against him. The pressure sent sparks skittering through your body, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.
He tasted faintly of beer, a heady mix that made your head spin. The faint scruff on his jaw scraped deliciously against your skin, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound muffled but not unnoticed. His grip on you tightened in response, his fingers digging into your flesh as though he couldn’t get enough.
Your hands threaded through his hair, curling at the base of his neck where it was soft and slightly damp with sweat. His response was immediate—a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your lips. His hands fumbled with the wings on your back, his movements impatient as he tried to rid himself of the obstacle. They were nothing more than an afterthought now, discarded with a few rough tugs onto the floor.
The space between you dissolved completely as he pulled you closer still, your bodies flush. His kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that made your head tilt back, giving him the perfect angle to devour you further. Every touch, every movement, felt like fire, consuming you both in the quiet heat of the moment, leaving nothing untouched by its flame.
Your mind clouded with the heat of it all, and before you even realized what you were doing, you began to shift off his lap, your knees brushing the floor as you intended to sink down. But Joel’s hands caught your wrists, stopping you.
“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, his voice rough but teasing. “Wanna try somethin first’.”
Your breath hitched as you stood, his hands steadying you as he knelt slightly to unhook your underwear. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost reverent, but purposeful enough to make your head spin. The soft white lace slipped down your legs, pooling at your feet before you stepped out of them. You were so lost in the moment, in the heat of his touch, that you didn’t notice the way he curled the delicate fabric in his hand and tucked it under the edge of the bed, as if he were keeping it for later.
Then, with surprising ease, he adjusted you, positioning you so that your legs straddled one of his thighs. Your bare skin hovered just above the rough, worn denim of his jeans, and your hands instinctively found their place against his chest to steady yourself. His warmth seeped into you, even through the fabric, and the closeness made it impossible to think straight.
“Joel?” you questioned, your voice breathless and unsure, but his name on your lips felt electric.
“Trust me,” he said softly, his hands resting on your hips. His thumbs brushed against your skin in slow, soothing circles. “Take what you need.”
“What?” you breathed, your voice a mix of confusion and disbelief, your cheeks already burning.
“Come on,” Joel murmured, his hands firm on your hips as he lifted his thigh slightly. The motion pressed the rough fabric of his jeans against your swollen clit, the sudden pressure making you gasp. Your body jerked forward, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance, and you were suddenly, achingly aware of just how close you were to him.
“I’ve never…” you started, your voice trembling, but the words trailed off.
Joel tilted his head, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile as his dark eyes stayed locked on yours. “Never ridden a man’s thigh before?” he murmured, his voice warm and patient, laced with just enough affection to make your cheeks flush.
You shook your head slightly, your breath catching as his words settled over you.
“That’s alright,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your sides in a slow, soothing motion, his thumbs brushing over your ribs before settling firmly on your hips.
His touch was steady, grounding, as if to remind you he wasn’t going anywhere. “I got ya,” he added, his voice soft but commanding, the promise in his tone wrapping around you like a tether.
You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears. But the way he looked at you—steady, reassuring, full of something that felt like trust—made you nod, eager to please him.
His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to vibrate in your chest. “Go ahead, baby,” he urged, his eyes locked on yours, dark and heavy with intent.
Slowly, you began to move your hips, rocking back and forth against his thigh. The friction was unlike anything you’d ever felt, the roughness of his jeans against your bare cunt, igniting sparks that spread through your body with every motion.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as you found a rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. Joel’s hands guided you, his grip firm but gentle, encouraging as you moved.
“There ya go,” he cooed, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His voice was low and molten, making your skin prickle. “Feel good?” he asked, his breath warm and teasing.
You nodded quickly, your movements becoming more confident as you chased the building heat inside you. “Y-yeah,” you managed to say, your voice shaky but sincere.
“Good,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours, dark and full of something primal. “That’s my girl.”
You kept moving your hips, faster now, the desperation building with every roll of your body against Joel’s thigh. The friction was maddening, deliciously unbearable, sending sparks shooting through your body with every movement.
Your breath came faster, harder, the small room filling with the sound of your panting, the creak of the bed beneath you, and the faint rustle of denim against your skin. The bass of the party thumped faintly in the background, a distant reminder of the world outside this charged, intimate moment.
Joel caught the change in your rhythm, the way your body trembled as you edged closer to the peak. His hands tightened on your hips, grounding you as he began lifting his thigh to meet your movements. The added pressure made you whimper, your head falling forward as your hands clutched at his shoulders.
“Is my sweet girl getting close?” he cooed, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Look so desperate for me.”
His words hit you like a spark to dry tinder, igniting the heat already pooling low in your belly. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as your rhythm faltered for just a moment. You nodded quickly, unable to form words, the intensity of his attention making your chest tighten.
You glanced down, unable to help yourself, and gasped at what you saw. The dark denim beneath you was damp, a growing wetness marking the spot where your body met his jeans. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but before you could say anything, Joel’s deep voice cut through your haze.
“Making a fuckin’ mess,” he murmured, his words rough and laced with desire as he watched you. His eyes flicked back to yours, dark and heavy-lidded, and the sight of his gaze alone sent you spiraling.
His thigh bounced slightly beneath you, the movement sending a wave of sensation that pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, every nerve alight as you grabbed at his hair, clutching desperately as your release crashed through you. “Take it, darlin’,” he said again, his tone softer now, almost reverent. “It’s all yours.”
“Joel!” you yelled, his name tearing from your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you, raw and unrelenting.
He held you through it, his hands steadying your trembling form, his thigh still pressed against you as your body shuddered with aftershocks. The low hum of his voice reached your ears, soft and soothing as he murmured something you couldn’t quite make out, lost in the haze of your bliss.
"Good girl," Joel murmured, his voice rough and full of praise as his fingers dipped into your heat, drawing a gasp from your lips. He lifted them to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he tasted you. His tongue swept over his fingers slowly, deliberately, and he hummed low in his throat.
“So sweet,” he said, his voice husky, the words making your already trembling legs feel like jelly.
“Joel,” you whispered, your voice still hazy and breathless, the sound of his name barely more than a plea.
He smiled, a slow, crooked grin that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. But this time, when you shifted, sliding off his lap and onto your knees, he didn’t stop you. His gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as he realized your intent.
You knelt before him, your hands sliding up his thighs as you looked up, meeting his heated gaze. You wanted to make him feel as good as he’d made you feel, to see him come undone the way you just had.
“Darlin’,” he rasped, his voice low and strained as his hands came to rest on your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you interrupted, your voice steady now despite the trembling in your hands. Your eyes stayed locked on his as your fingers went to work, determined to show him just how much you wanted to please him.
You worked quickly, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt. Joel lifted his hips without a word, giving you the space to pull the rough material down his legs until it pooled around his ankles. The sound of the zipper, the rustle of denim—it was all so raw, so intimate, and it sent a thrill through you.
Settling between his thighs, you shifted, finding a position that gave you enough room. The hard wood beneath your knees burned slightly, the sensation grounding you amidst the haze of arousal.
Your hands rested on his thighs for a moment, feeling the heat of his skin through the faint shadow of his boxers. Joel watched you intently, his chest rising and falling as his breath grew heavier, his hands twitching at his sides as though he were fighting the urge to reach out and touch you.
You hesitated only briefly before curling your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, your eyes flicking up to meet his for silent confirmation. His nod was small, but the intensity in his gaze said everything you needed to know. Slowly, you eased the fabric down, freeing him completely, and the sight of him made your breath hitch.
You couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped your lips, your eyes widening slightly as you took him in. He was bigger than you’d imagined, and for a moment, a flicker of nervousness passed through you. You’d never been with someone so big before, and the thought sent a rush of anticipation mixed with a twinge of doubt through your veins.
But it was delicious, the way his length stood, proud and imposing, the sight of the tip glistening slightly under the dim light. The rawness of it, the sheer intimacy of seeing him like this, sent a shiver through you. It was overwhelming, yes, but also intoxicating in a way you hadn’t anticipated, stirring a deep, primal need you couldn’t ignore.
“My angel,” he murmured, his tone soft yet filled with something that made your chest ache. He lifted one hand, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek, grounding you in the moment. The contrast of his touch—so gentle despite the intensity of his presence—sent a warm shiver through you.
You wrapped your hand around him, the warmth of him in your palm making your breath hitch. Slowly, deliberately, you began to move, your strokes measured as you pumped him in your hand.
You wanted to savor this moment, to memorize the way he looked—the sharp rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted into a soft, breathless "O" as his head tipped back.
Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw tightening as your movements continued. The muscles in his thighs tensed beneath your touch, and you felt a surge of pride at the way he was already unraveling for you.
Encouraged, you worked faster, your grip tightening just enough to pull a low, guttural sound from his throat. “Shit, darlin’,” he stuttered, his voice hoarse and heavy, the drawl thickened by the haze of pleasure. His hands gripped the bed, knuckles white as he fought to keep himself steady.
The sound of his voice, the raw need in it, sent a rush of heat through you and you grew yourself growing wetter, if that were even possible. You leaned closer, your lips ghosting over the sensitive skin just above where your hands worked. You wanted to drive him to the edge, to see him lose himself completely under your touch.
You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his tip, your lips grazing his heated skin. Your tongue darted out, painting slow, deliberate stripes up and down his side, tasting him, teasing him, while your hands continued their steady rhythm. Joel let out a sharp breath, a low growl escaping him that made your stomach tighten.
“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers through you. His eyes opened briefly, dark and hooded as they fixed on you. “So fuckin’ pretty on your knees for me,” he panted, his voice ragged and uneven, each word laced with desire.
The words made you hum against him, the sound vibrating softly against his skin. His reaction was immediate—a curse slipping from his lips as his head tilted back again, exposing the strong line of his throat.
The sight made your movements bolder, more confident, as you worked him with your hands and tongue, coaxing more of those delicious sounds from him.
Joel reached up with one hand, his fingers gripping the brim of his hat. He pulled it off and, with deliberate care, placed it on your head, the action so intimate it sent a flush of heat spreading through your chest.
“Keep goin’,” he muttered, his voice rough, his free hand sliding to the back of your head. His fingers tangled gently in your hair, holding you in place, not forceful, but guiding, like he couldn’t bear the thought of you stopping.
You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his as you continued, your lips and hands working in perfect tandem. His gaze burned into yours, his chest heaving with every shaky breath. “That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “Just like that.”
You could tell he was close—the way his hips began to stutter, thrusting upwards into your mouth in shallow, needy motions. His breathing turned ragged, and his grip on your hair tightened, not painfully, but enough to let you know he was barely holding on.
The sounds he made, low groans and curses, were a symphony of pleasure that sent heat pooling in your belly.
It was almost too much—the fullness, the way he moved, the way he tasted. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t stop, determined to see him through. You hollowed your cheeks, working him deeper, and his response was immediate.
“Fuck,” Joel groaned, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that made your heart race. His head tipped back, and his thighs tensed beneath your hands as he asked, his words almost slurred, “Where does my pretty girl want me?”
You managed to speak around him, your answer muffled but clear enough, “My mouth.”
The way it came out, slightly garbled but eager, made him laugh, a breathless, strained sound that sent a thrill through you. “My dirty girl,” he murmured, his tone almost affectionate.
With one final thrust, he tipped over the edge, his body going taut as he finished, his hips pressing upwards one last time. You took him as best as you could, the salty sensation overwhelming but not unwelcome. His hand stayed in your hair, steadying you as he groaned your name, his voice filled with raw pleasure.
You pulled away slowly, swallowing as you did, the warmth of him still lingering on your tongue. A thin string of saliva connected you to him, glistening in the dim light, lewd and intimate. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your knees aching from the unforgiving floor, but the satisfaction in Joel’s eyes made it all worth it.
“Shit,” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes stayed on you for a moment, his gaze dark and unreadable, before he reached down to pull his jeans back up, fastening them with practiced ease. The sight of him—still slightly undone but regaining his composure—sent a flush of heat through you all over again.
Joel adjusted his belt, the faint clink of the buckle breaking the quiet as he glanced down at you. His eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth quirked into something that carried a warmth that made your heart stutter.
“You alright, darlin’?” he asked, his voice lower now, touched with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His gaze lingered on you, affectionate and unguarded, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you in this moment.
You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you sat back on your heels, the weight of the moment settling over you. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice hoarse but steady.
Joel reached down, offering you his hand, and the warmth of his touch as he helped you to your feet sent a fresh wave of tingles up your spine.
“My pretty girl,” he murmured, the words barely above a whisper, but they landed with the weight of something profound. His voice was warm, filled with a quiet affection that made your chest ache in the best way.
You didn’t know how much truth those words held—how much you could dare to believe in them—but you needed them. You needed him. You loved the way they sounded coming from his mouth, the way he claimed you with such easy confidence, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
You loved being his, even if you didn’t quite know what being his meant.
Joel helped you to your feet, his strong hands steadying you as you wobbled slightly, your knees still shaky. You found yourself standing between his thighs, his hands settling instinctively on your hips. His gaze traveled up to meet yours, soft and searching, and the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.
“Was that alright?” you asked, your voice quiet, almost unsure.
He looked at you like you’d just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “You’re jokin’, right?” His lips curved into a lazy grin as his fingers traced small, comforting circles over your hips.
“Got the most perfect mouth on ya, darlin’,” Joel murmured, his voice low and gravelly, thick with lingering satisfaction. His words made your cheeks flush, a warm, pink hue spreading across your skin as you looked away for a moment, embarrassed by the compliment.
Joel’s gaze softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you. He couldn’t help but marvel at how someone who had just undone him so completely—so filthily—could still look so innocent, so sweetly flustered. It was a contradiction that sent a deep, simmering warmth through him, making him feel both protective and utterly captivated.
He reached out, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek, his touch light and almost reverent. His eyes flicked up, catching sight of the cowboy hat still perched on your head, and a chuckle rumbled in his chest.
“What?” you asked, frowning slightly at his sudden amusement.
“Mixin’ costumes now,” he teased, gesturing at the angelic white of your outfit beneath his hat.
You laughed, reaching up to take it off, but his hand shot out, stopping you. “Wait,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Wanna remember this.”
“Joel,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing all over again.
“Smile,” he said, ignoring your protest as he angled the phone at you. The flash went off, capturing the moment in an intimate snapshot.
You could only imagine what you looked like—wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, your lips still red and slightly swollen, with his cowboy hat askew on your head.
Somehow, despite everything, you looked angelic. Maybe even innocent.
You sighed but smiled softly as he lowered the phone. “Show me,” you murmured, stepping closer to him. You eased onto his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck as you leaned in to peek at the screen.
He tilted the phone so you could see, his voice low and filled with quiet reverence as he said, “You’re perfect.”
Your breath caught at the sincerity in his tone, your heart stumbling over the weight of his words. “I’m not,” you huffed softly, your cheeks burning as you burrowed your face into the crook of his neck, seeking solace in the warmth of him.
His scent surrounded you—earthy, faintly musky —and you couldn’t help but think about how you’d stay there forever if you could.
“Nuh-uh,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute as you felt him shake his head. His hand rested against your back, steady and reassuring. “Not fightin’ you on this, honey. You’re perfect.”
Before you could argue, he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, his lips warm and tender, sending a shiver through you. The warmth of it lingered long after his lips left your skin, a quiet promise that echoed in the quiet room, wrapping around you like a blanket.
Joel didn’t need to say anything else—his touch, his tone, the way he held you—it all said enough.
“Take a selfie,” you said suddenly, grinning as the idea popped into your head.
“A what?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly.
“How old are you?” you teased, laughing softly.
Realization dawned on his face, and he chuckled. “Oh, the one where it’s of us.”
“Yes,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully.
He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips as he turned the camera toward the two of you. “Alright, alright” he murmured, his tone playful but warm. You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek just as he snapped the photo.
The photo was simple but intimate: your lips pressed softly against his cheek, your smile warm and genuine, while his own smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. But it was his eyes that stood out most—softened in a way he didn’t even know he was capable of, like you’d reached some part of him he hadn’t let anyone else touch in years.
For a moment, Joel stared at the image on the screen, his thumb brushing over the edge of his phone as though it could capture more than just the pixels on display.
He thought about how, in another lifetime, he’d make it his wallpaper. How he’d keep this version of you—happy, radiant, his—on his phone, a constant reminder of a moment he never wanted to forget.
But that was a thought he’d keep to himself, tucked away somewhere deep and quiet, too fragile to speak aloud - yet.
“Cute,” you murmured, your voice quieter now, almost shy.
“Very,” he replied, his voice low and warm.
Before either of you could say anything more, a notification popped up on his screen: a text from Sarah.
DAD WHERE ARE YOUUUU? NEED MORE DRINKS?!?!? HELLOOOO.
Joel groaned, letting his head fall back for a moment before sighing. “We better get goin’,” he said reluctantly.
Neither of you moved right away, though, both wishing you could stay in the quiet sanctuary of his room forever, wrapped in the intimacy that had settled between you.
Eventually, Joel shifted, his hands brushing against your hips as he helped you stand, the spell breaking just slightly as the sounds of the party filtered back into your awareness.
“C’mon,” Joel said, his voice softer now, a reluctant sigh slipping from his lips. “Let’s not keep her waitin’.”
You started to follow him, but a sudden thought froze you in place, the sensation of feeling bare dawning on you all at once. “Wait,” you said quickly, your voice a hushed whisper. “My underwear.”
Joel paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk so devilish it sent heat rushing to your cheeks. “What about it?” he asked, his tone far too casual for your liking.
“You know what,” you hissed, your eyes narrowing at him.
He shrugged, his smirk deepening as he leaned slightly on the banister, unbothered by your flustered expression. “Consider it… a keepsake,” he drawled, his voice laced with teasing amusement.
“Joel,” you whispered harshly, your tone a mix of disbelief and embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said with a wink, turning to head down the stairs. “It’s in safe hands.”
“You asshole,” you muttered under your breath, glaring after him as he disappeared into the noise of the party below. But despite your annoyance, you couldn’t stop the way your lips twitched into a small, begrudging smile.
He had that effect on you, damn him.
🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️
“Where’d you go?” Sarah asked, her words slurred as she swayed slightly, her pirate hat tilting precariously. She blinked up at you, a lopsided grin on her face.
“I, uh, had to use the bathroom,” you said quickly, trying to sound casual as you held onto your drink like a lifeline.
“Oh, okay,” she said, nodding as if that explained everything. Then her brow furrowed slightly, her gaze sharpening—well, as much as it could in her drunken state. “You’re having fun, right?”
“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “A lot of fun.”
She grinned again, satisfied, but then her eyes roved over you, her face twisting in confusion. “Wait... where’s your halo?”
Your heart stopped. For a moment, your hand flew up to your head, panicked, expecting to feel the brim of Joel’s cowboy hat still sitting there. If it was, what would you even say? But when your fingers brushed through your hair and found nothing, relief washed over you like a wave.
Joel had taken it back—thank God. He’d slipped it off your head before the two of you came back downstairs, a quiet, subtle move that now felt like a lifesaver. The thought of Sarah seeing you walk into the party with his hat still perched on your head was mortifying.
“Oh,” you said, exhaling shakily as you quickly composed yourself. “Must’ve lost it somewhere. It’s probably around here.”
Sarah tilted her head, her brow furrowed in mock seriousness as she considered something before breaking into a giggle. “Guess you’re not so angelic anymore, huh?”
You forced a smile, but her words landed heavier than she could’ve known. If only she knew. The guilt gnawed at you, sharp and undeniable. What you were doing was wrong, and there was no point in sugarcoating it. Sarah was a damn good friend, one of the best, and you had no right…
Your thoughts were cut short when Sarah’s gaze shifted, her expression brightening as Joel reappeared from the garage fridge, a couple of extra drinks in hand. Your eyes followed hers instinctively, heart doing that familiar, traitorous flutter at the sight of him.
“Hey!” Sarah called out to you, her voice a little too loud, her words slightly slurred from the margaritas she’d been nursing all night. She nudged your arm for emphasis, her grin wide as she turned back to you. “I think Dad is seeing someone!”
Your heart stopped. Completely froze in your chest as her words hung in the air.
“What? What do you mean?” you stammered, your voice uneven, betraying your attempt to sound casual.
Sarah waved a hand dramatically, leaning closer with the loose confidence of someone who’d had a few drinks too many. “I mean,” she said, dragging the words out, “I haven’t seen that man this happy in SO long. He’s like… humming in the shower.” She giggled at the absurdity of it, shaking her head in disbelief. “Like, who does that?”
You swallowed hard, your cheeks already burning. “Oh,” you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper, trying desperately to will away the blush creeping up your face.
“And!” Sarah continued, clearly on a roll now, completely unaware of the panic clawing at you. “I’ll come downstairs at night, and he’s on the couch smiling at his phone. Like, full-on grinning. Who is this man? And who is he texting?!”
Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to laugh lightly, brushing it off even as your chest tightened. “Weird,” you murmured, hoping she couldn’t hear the breathlessness in your voice. But the way Sarah grinned at you, so blissfully unaware, only made the guilt dig deeper.
You made a mental note to text Joel the second you got a moment alone: Hide the halo. The last thing you needed was for Sarah—or anyone else—to stumble into his room and find it.
🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️
When you got home and finished showering, the warmth of the water washing away the lingering scents of the night, you slipped into bed feeling both exhausted and electric. The room was quiet, the hum of the party now a distant memory, but your mind refused to settle.
You replayed the events of the evening in vivid detail. Each time you thought of Joel, your cheeks flushed, your stomach fluttered with that warm, dizzying sensation you couldn’t shake.
It was impossible not to wonder if he felt the same—if the way he looked at you, touched you, spoke to you, was as real for him as it was for you.
You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow, willing the thoughts to quiet enough to let you sleep. But just as you began to drift, your phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. The sound startled you, and your heart pounded as you reached for it, the faint glow of the screen illuminating the dark room.
It was a text from Joel.
You unlocked it with shaky fingers, and there it was—the selfie you’d taken together. Your lips were pressed to his cheek, his smirk lazy and crooked, his eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache. Beneath the photo was a simple caption:
“Sleep well angel.”
🕸️───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────🕸️
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Battinson Guest Starring on TV Shows
SO
For someone who holds the title of Richest Man in the World, Bruce doesn’t do a lot of traveling.
Which is to say he does a LOT of traveling, but he always tries to find a way out of it.
(Are there bat-related reasons for this? Are there people-related reasons for this? Are there anxiety-related reasons for this? Who knows?)
But partners and sponsors aren’t always going to tolerate his hermit-like tendencies. So once every month or so, Alfred wrangles Bruce into a private jet and sends him off to who knows where so he can represent the company.
Usually, it’s somewhere close on the East Coast, maybe it’s across the pond, even Asia isn’t off the table, but the rarest place to spot Bruce Wayne is actually the West Coast of the US.
One day, it is announced that Bruce Wayne will be spending two (count ‘em, 2) consecutive weeks in California with his kids for some grand business convention.
The West Coast media goes feral with the news, ESPECIALLY interviewers. And because Bruce kicks up such a fuss this time, Alfred has the gall to sign him up for FOUR TV appearances.
Here are these appearances :)
RuPaul’s Drag Race
Drag Queens, especially Drag Race all-stars, contribute to a wide variety of charities
So on a new episode, the queens are challenged to design and shoot a promotional ad for their own charity
And who better to act as a guest judge for this episode than the show’s largest benefactor, CEO of the Wayne Foundation, Bruce Wayne?!
Physically? He’s older than half of the contestants. But spiritually? He screams Baby Gay.
Fifteen minutes into the episode, Bruce is welcomed into the werkroom where he gives them pointers on their campaign. He’s in his cute little three-piece suit (Alfred’s idea) with the intention of looking put-together and knowledgeable. But that’s not the only outcome.
They all flirt with him. Everyone, single or taken. The confessionals are so thirsty.
“He’s lucky the cameras are on. Otherwise, I’d eat him up faster than a bachelorette party in a buffet line.”
“My celebrity crush is talking to me, and all I can focus on are his gorgeous eyes. How am I supposed to know what he's saying?”
Of course, they shoot their shot, but most of it is joking since they don't know he's bi yet.
“Are you single, honey?” Bruce blushes. “It’s complicated.” “Well, I’ll make it simple for you.”
We all know this man can't handle being flirted with. We saw how he froze when Selina did it. It’s like he mentally bluescreens when someone calls him a pet name.
Only THEN do they learn he's bi
One of the queens jokingly asks him, “Ever been with a man before?” thinking it would be a firm no, but Bruce says, “Actually, yes.” “Oh shit, really?” And to Bruce’s embarrassment, the whole room hears him.
The flirting is thus taken up a notch.
On the main stage, Bruce has a lot of great constructive criticism. He talks about how to find the right audience, the importance of a good slogan, and even goes on a little rant about logo design.
(You cannot convince me that Bruce hasn’t hyperfixated on the business of charity work before. Or the science of marketing. They’re his favorite business topics.)
After about three minutes of him complimenting one contestant for their Drag Library pitch, he stops himself mid-sentence and says, “Oh sorry, am I talking too much?” “No, please! Keep talking, sweetheart.” Bruce covers his face to hide his blush. “Why is everyone flirting with me?” “Baby, have you seen yourself?”
While the judges deliberate, RuPaul mentions Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent. Bruce nods along for a while then suddenly just blurts out, “Wait, does it spell ****?”
The judges pause then burst out laughing. “Oh no, we’ve traumatized him!" Bruce is blushing up a storm. “I just never thought about it like that!” “Sweet, innocent Bruce. We’re so sorry.”
It’s later revealed that Bruce offered to help some of the queens launch their charity projects through the Wayne Foundation.
It’s v cute 🥰
Nailed It!
I love Nicole Byer.
She is Mother.
In all seriousness, she’s so fucking funny and she’s personable enough to pull Bruce out of his shell a bit.
The theme for this episode is Found Family. Three pairs of family members compete together—a gay father and his adopted son, an aunt who adopted her niece, and a stepfather and stepdaughter.
Because Bruce Wayne famously adopted two children, he is invited to guest judge.
So Nicole opens the episode with a zinger, the contestants are introduced, and Bruce is welcomed onto the judge’s panel beside Nicole and Jacques.
(Yes, Bruce does speak French. Yes, Nicole makes a joke about it being hot.)
Nicole: “We were surprised you accepted our invitation, Mr. Wayne. You’re notorious for staying on the East Coast. What brought you to the Nailed It! Studio?” Bruce: “My children love this show. They always tell me I should be on it since I’m so bad at baking.” Nicole: “Really? Maybe we should do a celebrity season of Nailed It! and have you compete.” Bruce: “No, you should not.”
Nicole: “So, Bruce, I know you have a butler at home who bakes for you. But what’s the grossest thing you’ve eaten? Escargot? Bad caviar?” Bruce: “I drank olive oil straight from the bottle once.” Nicole: “…What?”
The problem for Bruce is he can’t say anything bad. It just feels mean :(
(And he would rather jump into oncoming traffic than gamble with a social interaction)
For the first challenge, the contestants make cake pops. But when Bruce tries the first one, there is a sickening crunch. Bruce’s eyes widen for a second and he slowly chews.
Nicole: “What was that? Bruce, are you okay?” Bruce, clearly struggling: “It’s…good.”
“Bruce, you can spit it out. It’s okay.” “I already swallowed it.” “Oh, you poor thing.” Bruce chokes for a second, and Nicole pats his back. “Please don’t die. We can’t afford it.”
For the big challenge, production has a surprise in store for Bruce.
Dick (9) and Jason (7) run onto the set and smother Bruce with a hug.
It’s adorable. Bruce no longer cares about paying attention, okay? His kids are here :D
The two boys read from cue cards to announce the second challenge: a three-tiered Gotcha Day cake. And as per tradition, the winner of the first challenge gets a leg-up.
This time, it’s a Helping Hands Button. When they hit the button, Dick and Jason will run over and help them for three minutes. (While being supervised, of course.)
As the contestants bake, Nicole says hello to Dick and Jason, who are clambering all over Bruce like a jungle gym. They both shake her hand and talk about how they love the show.
Nicole looks pointedly at the two empty chairs beside Bruce. “You know, we brought these chairs for you two to sit in.” Dick, on Bruce’s shoulders: “We’re fine, Ms. Byer!” Nicole: “Ms. Byer? Oh, you’re a cutie, aren’t you?”
Just ten minutes before the challenge is over, the Helping Hands button is pressed, and Dick and Jason are given stools so they can help the aunt and niece stack their cake tiers.
Two minutes in, the aunt instructs them to let go of the cake. But the moment Jason pulls his hands away, the cake topples over and covers him in frosting. Jason, whispering: “Oh f*ck.” Bruce: “Jason!” Jason: “I didn’t say that! Dick did!” Nicole: *cackling as Bruce buried his face in his hands*
Jason gets cleaned up, and Dick helps them stack what can still be salvaged.
When Wes brings out the trophy, he’s dressed as Batman. Dick and Jason gets a kick out of that.
Celebrity Family Feud
Bruce was invited to the show after his SNL skit went viral a few months ago
This episode, the teams are split up by cities they grew up in. Gotham v. Star City. Naturally, his team is playing for the Wayne Foundation.
It’s a pretty odd cast of people, most of them having moved to LA or Hollywood. Bruce is the only one to still live in Gotham.
They have fun, though, despite their limited common ground. The audience has a few good laughs.
(Some at Bruce's expense)
Harvey: You're a very wealthy man, Mr. Wayne. What do you really do in that tower all day? Bruce: I, uh…business? Harvey: …You business. Bruce: ……Wait-
All in good fun. Bruce just vibes in his little corner until he needs to answer a question. It's pretty chill.
For exactly half of the episode.
Then it happens.
Steve Harvey takes two people from each team up to the buzzer and says, “We asked 100 people: Name something your parents always told you as a kid.”
What the production failed to consider is how this particular question might be a sensitive topic for some contestants.
Bruce’s team gets the question, and Steve saunters up to Bruce, completely oblivious.
“Alright, Bruce Wayne!” Bruce nods awkwardly. “Hi, Steve.” “Bruce, what’s wrong? You’re looking a bit uncomfortable.” “…I don’t like this question, Steve.” “Why not?” Bruce just gives him a desperate look, and it clicks. “Oh! Oh my gosh!”
Let’s be real. Bruce is awkward enough, but Steve Harvey cannot save an awkward moment for his life either.
But he tries his best anyway and asks, “Are you okay with answering this question, or would you like to pass?” Bruce nods frantically. “I can answer. ‘I love you.’” “I love you too, Mr. Wayne.” “No, uh, my answer is ‘I love you.’” “Oh! That’s a good one.”
Thankfully, the audience erupts in laughter. That little interaction cuts the tension, and Bruce’s answer ends up on the board.
And by god, the memes
“I love you too, Mr. Wayne” is the new “Enjoy your meal.” “You too.”
The audio clip of “I don’t like this question, Steve” goes viral on TikTok
Someone gets a pic of Bruce and Steve looking at each other with palpable fear in their eyes, and it makes its rounds all over Twitter
10/10 never again
Running Wild with Bear Grylls
Now this is the most challenging. Not because it’s difficult, of course. But because Bruce has to look stupid enough to maintain his Brucie Wayne persona but smart enough to keep himself safe.
For this episode, Bear takes Bruce to the California desert.
“How much do you know about survival, Bruce?” Bear asks. Bruce nods carefully. “I did some survival training once with a friend from boarding school.” “Oh really, how did you do?” “Fine, I think.”
This is, of course, his way of saying I trained with a league of assassins for years, but Bear can’t know that! And that’s how most of the episode goes.
Thank god Bruce's fear of being caught is mistaken for being scared of the physical challenge because every time Bear points out how well he’s doing, he breaks into a sweat.
Bear: For a businessman, you’re surprisingly fit. Bruce, sweating bullets: Oh, this is all just for show.
Bear: Wow, you’re a natural. Are you sure you’ve never set up a zip-line before? Bruce, gripping his equipment so tight he gets rope burn: I think it’s just the survival instincts.
Of course, he pretends to be out of breath a few times. The Drama.
Bruce, pretending to slip and fall: Ouch! Who knew the outdoors were so dangerous? Bear, you are crazy. Bruce, internally: How much longer are we doing this?
Bruce being a vegetarian is actually a point of contention. You see, Bear always makes their celebrity guests do something crazy for food like skin a snake or eat a mouse. Scavenging for berries just doesn’t grab the audience’s attention.
But do you know what is vegetarian?
Bear: Now, in extreme cases of survival, it’s not rare for humans to resort to drinking their own pee. That’s what we’ll be doing in a moment. Are you up for it? Bruce, visibly repulsed: I’ve had Gotham tap water. I’ll be fine.
How on God’s Green Earth did Alfred convince him to do this?
To get to the extraction point, Bear takes Bruce down a cliffside.
Bear shows Bruce the meticulous process of properly belaying from the top of a cliff, and Bruce, who has done this over 100 times is like, “Wow that’s so dangerous :( Will we be okay?”
He really tries to ramp up his acting skills this time.
(Little does he know that’s not necessary.)
Bruce goes down first as Bear belays with a cameraman filming from the top. Halfway down, Bruce hears a scuffle, and the cameraman yells, “F*ck!”
Bruce looks up, arms already out for protection, and he sees a small disk falling towards him. It’s the lens cap. He catches it on instinct.
For a second, he thinks, “Shit, was that too skilled? That’s not enough to make people think I’m Batman, right? I just caught it in midair while dangling from a cliff. That’s totally not weird and suspicious. Normal people do that—“
Then Bear yells, “Bruce, drop it!” Bruce looks up at Bear, confused. “Why?” “There's a scorpion!” That’s when Bruce looks at the lens cap and sees a black scorpion perched on top with its tail ready to strike.
They don’t have those in Gotham.
Bruce jumps in his harness and flings the cap at the rocky cliffside. He hears a crunch, and the scorpion and cap tumble to the ground. Bruce frowns. Can a scorpion survive that drop?
“You just killed a scorpion, mate!” Bear cries. Bruce looks up in horror. “I killed it?!” “Hell yeah!” Bruce’s face falls. “No!”
Because oh. shit.
Bruce just killed something. The sad, orphaned vegetarian just killed a scorpion.
Bruce has a meltdown.
He didn’t mean to kill it!!!! Oh no, he just killed an innocent little creature. Yeah, he punches people for fun sometimes, and he definitely put a few violent criminals in the hospital, but he’s never committed MURDER!!
This poor little scorpion died due to his own negligence, and he feels so so so bad about it.
Bruce is a mess as he climbs the rest of the way down.
Bruce, cradling the scorpion’s body: I don’t know how to perform CPR on a scorpion! Bear: Bruce, you took its head clean off. Bruce: *sad noises*
Legit inconsolable. To him, it’s like he just murdered a puppy
Once they're out, Bear is trying to cheer him up. Bless him.
Bear: We’ve conquered the wild! Haven’t we, Bruce? Bruce, head between his legs, still mourning the scorpion: I’m never going outside again.
Yeah, no one’s going to think he’s Batman after that.
And that's all four of Bruce's TV appearances from the West Coast :) Dick and Jason never let him live any of it down. Alfred is almost sorry. (He is not sorry.)
Let me know your thoughts! What other TV shows do you think Battinson would appear on as a guest?
Okie dokie :D Love y'all! Have a good day <3
#RIP scorpion#bruce donates $10 million to the preservation of California wildlife to atone for his sins#battinson#bruce wayne#batman#the batman 2022#batman 2022#the batman#battinson needs a hug#dc universe#soft bruce wayne#gotham#rupaul's drag race#nailed it#celebrity family feud#running wild with bear grylls#dick grayson#jason todd#alfred pennyworth#long post#long long post
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