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hyperfixatedbastard · 9 months ago

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how to get the First Man™ out of bed

Soft!Adam x GN!Reader

Turns out the 'First Man' himself is actually super clingy. And he is a big baby when it comes to getting up in the mornings. Good luck convincing him to get his ass outta bed!

Word Count: 1.1k

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, implied sexual content, withholding sex, kissing (it's still SFW!)

A/N: Here is the Adam x Reader fluff, finally! I didn't mean for this to have so much sex-adjacent content but I think that's just too integral to Adam's character lmao. It's still SFW though so it's fineee. I didn't mean for the 'withholding sex' part to be manipulative, it's all fun n' games here, so apologies if it comes across as too serious. (It was originally 'one week', not 'one day' - I changed it just in case lol)

Dividers

Beneath the douchebag exterior of the First Man™, Adam’s really just a big ol’ softie. Just deep, deep, deep down. It took a long time to find that part of him, but as his partner, you’re one of the only people that even knows this side of him exists.

One thing you really hadn’t expected from the man is how clingy he can get—it probably has something to do with the abandonment issues, but you’ve never tried to broach that subject. It’s currently early in the morning, and Adam doesn’t seem to plan on letting go of you anytime soon. You’re cuddled up with him in bed, his mask and robes absent as he sleeps. His wings are wrapped around you like a protective blanket. And now you have to try and convince his stubborn ass to get the fuck up. You’ve already been awake for about fifteen minutes, hoping your boyfriend will wake up on his own, but of course, that’s not going to happen.

Getting Adam out of bed is always a struggle. Despite the promotion of Heaven as the ‘perfect place’ with ‘no bad days,’ there’s still a schedule to abide by, and angels still need sleep. And Adam really hates those damn schedules, and loves his beauty sleep. There are a multitude of ways to try and get him out of bed, and every morning is a guessing game to see which one will work.

1. Be sweet and try to gently encourage him to get out of bed.

“Adam, babe,” you murmur softly, opting for a gentle approach this time around. You pat his arms where they’re wrapped securely around your waist—you would try to get a look at his face, but he’s spooning you from behind and giving you absolutely zero wiggle room. “You gotta get up, we have shit to do.”

“Mm…fuck off,” Adam grumbles, only tightening his hold on you and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck. Which was about what you expected.

2. Be a little assertive.

“Adam, c’mon,” you warn in an attempt to convince him to get the fuck up. “I’ve already given you an extra fifteen minutes.”

“Then gimme fifteen more,” he insists, his voice sounding almost whiny. His childishness would be adorable if you didn’t actually have shit to do today.

3. Be a little more assertive.

You sigh. It’s never easy with this asshole. “Adam.”

The angel in question makes a little ‘mmpf’ sound into your back.

“Get the fuck up.”

He doesn’t even respond this time—he just holds you tighter, his wings copying his arms and trapping you in his embrace.

4. Bribery.

Actually, fuck no. You refuse to bribe him again. He’s already gotten that out of you several times before, getting anything from sex to food to picking what movie you two watch that night (you’ve watched Die Hard three times this week alone)

No, this is a game you are not losing this time.

5. Threats.

“Okay, you’ve got three options,” you offer, your voice less stern than your last attempt but not as soft as your first. “One: you get up.”

Adam makes another noncommittal little grunt of acknowledgment.

“Two: you don’t get up, and Lute breaks into our apartment again to drag your ass out of bed.”

He lets out a sound that sounds kind of like a chuckle, but it’s muffled against the back of your neck, so it’s hard to tell. But he’s clearly not intimidated by the warning.

“Three: you don’t get up and we don’t fuck tonight.”

That gets him. He tenses up for a moment before scoffing in disbelief. “Yeah, right, like you could go a day without this dick.”

A smirk pulls at your lips. You’ve got him now. “Try me.”

Adam’s silent for nearly a full minute. He has a much higher libido than you, and he knows you’d be fine without sex for a day. Him, on the other hand? He’s got a high sex drive and is downright spoiled.

You’re worried he’s fallen back asleep, but eventually, he sighs. His wings unfurl and his grip around you loosens, though not letting go entirely. “Fineee,” he groans dramatically. “But only because I don’t wanna deprive you of my amazing dick.”

You chuckle and turn to face him, now that you have the ability to actually move. His hair’s all messy, as it usually is, and his golden eyes are just barely cracked open.

“Oh, how generous of you,” you joke, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He instinctively pushes his face into your palm ever so slightly.

“I know, I’m fucking great,” he agrees, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He knows you were being sarcastic, but he’ll turn damn near anything into a compliment that strokes his ego.

You just roll your eyes at his response, albeit fondly. He’s a dumbass, but he’s your dumbass.

“Alright, you big baby, time to get up,” you tease, moving to sit up before his arms tighten around you once more, pulling you back down.

“Hey—” you start, but are immediately cut off by a pair of lips on yours. His lips move slowly and languidly along with yours, and you’re all too happy to reciprocate.

You sigh into the kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against Adam’s lips. There’s a big difference between your usual hungry, eager make-outs and the sweet, lazy kisses you get when he’s all soft and sleepy. Both are great, but you really savor these tender, gentle moments with him. In the mornings, he’s too tired to keep up that arrogant ‘too cool for all that mushy, affectionate shit’ persona. And while you love him all the time, sleepy Adam definitely holds a special place in your heart.

He’s smiling when he lets you pull away. The kiss wasn’t a particularly long one, but you could’ve let it go on forever. But you’d be one hell of a hypocrite if you stayed in bed just to kiss your boyfriend after making such a point to get his ass out of bed.

“Now are you ready to get up?” you ask softly, still basking in the warmth of his embrace and the memory of his lips on yours.

“Mm…” Adam hums in consideration. His smile quickly turns to a smirk as he tightens his hold on you yet again and wraps his wings around you. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Needless to say, you do not stay true to your word about the consequences of Adam not getting out of bed. And Lute does, in fact, break into your apartment half an hour later to be confronted with a sight she sees far too often for her liking.

Fuck him for being so damn stubborn. Literally.

Taglist - @3sire-777

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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softfem-dom · 2 months ago

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wedding ring

origins!husban!logan x origins!wade x wife!reader

a/n : I don't know what came over me to write this, I have no excuse I'm just horny.

wc : 3k

NSFW , PORN WITH (LITTLE) PLOT , WADE IS A HORNY SHIT , MOMMY & DADDY KINK , GENERAL WADE™ BEHAVIOUR sub!origins!wade wilson . dom!origins!logan . dom!reader

synopsis : wade has always been a kinky little shit, it seems that title is well-deserved when he starts to fantasize about squeezing himself into a married couple old enough to be his parents.

If someone in the team were to ask Wade why he looked as if he hadn't slept in a decade, he'd say he was up practising his katana skills.

When in reality, he had spent the whole night groaning and moaning against his pillow while rubbing himself raw to the thought of you and Logan.

What was so special about you two, you may ask? You were married and were old enough to be his parents.

It was absolutely not his fault. You two had no right to come into the X-Team, looking so fucking hot and expect him not to get hard.

You couldn't just walk around the place with Logan's strong arm around your waist and expect him not to stare. You couldn't just hum in acknolovedgment everytime Logan leant into your ear to rumble something that the merc couldn't quite catch and expect him not to grow desperate.

He was a walking mess. Day and night his thoughts were consumed by you and Logan, Logan and you, and what you could do to him. He couldn't help it, he'd blame the undiagnosed ADHD anyday for titty-flashing him with so many dirty scenarios anytime you walked past.

Logan and you had been through a lot of shit togheter.

You had met sometime between the 1880's and the 1900's, both mutants and escaping from someone who was trying to do you harm. Both with the weight of taken lives over your shoulders, both with spilled blood on your hands. Both with the promise of living far too long.

And, cliche-y enough, you both had fallen in love. After uniting forces as acquintances, then growing as close as long-life friends, and then falling into the claws of love, you two had gotten married.

Happyly married, always attached to the hip, gold wedding wands on your ring fingers. Always watching out for the other.

And when William Stryker offered you both a place in a 'special opperations' team called X-Team, you both agreed —happy to help a cause—.

What you didn't expect, though, was Wade Wilson turning into another shit you had to go through togheter.

The mercenary seemed to never know when to shut his mouth, or how to read social cues, he just simply had a mouth too big for his own good. Hence why the nickname merc with a mouth was born amidst the members of the team.

He was a young man in his 20's, a cocky asshole and a total flirt that talked big game. He liked to show off during missions, pulling stunts, to impress Logan or you was another question that didn't have an answer yet.

You and your husband just knew the kid seemed to have the hots for one of you. Which made Logan boil with possesiveness because you were his damn wife, his and his only —possesiveness that in turn only made Wade all the more horny.

It wasn't until today's mission that you realized that the mercenary didn't have the hots for just one of you, but for both.

After trying to break in a building to stop some drug dealers, the team had split up and —ironically enough— left you three to flee from more guards than you could fight. And now, ironically enough again, you three were hidding in a really small supply closet.

You hadn't intended for it to end up this way, but your husband was with his broad back against the wall and with a pupil-blown Wade completely sandwiched between you two.

Wade was totally trying to keep his cool, desperately keeping up his usual cocky fachade, but his gut felt so damn coiled at having his ass pressed against Logan's crotch and his chest in level with yours.

"How did they notice us?!?" you asked your husband in a low breath, completely ignoring the merc between you.

Logan growled slightly, his nose twitching when a strangely strong scent wafted into his nostrils, shaking his head slightly as he tried to peek out from the small gap in the door. "dunno, doll, but I guess they didn't see us come here"

As you kept talking with your husband in hushed breaths, Wade was starting to feel his brain turning to damn mush as he was trapped between you two. He couldn't help it, your body warmth was sweeping into his bones from back and front —melting him—.

And then, suddenly he heard your voices stopping. Looking up with his half-glassy eyes, he was met by a quirked eyebrow and a deep scowl from Logan.

"are you damn horny right now, mouth?" Logan pretty much growled. His voice rumbling in his chest as he looked down at the young man between you two.

Wade blinked, realizing he had been so aroused —and locked up in his dirty fantasies— that he had pretty much started to leak in his pants.

"ohw, c'mon, what'd you expect?" the merc breathed out under your questioning gaze. "I've got my hot ass against someone's big dick and my face is smushed against this massive titties and jesus fucking christ—"

His words died down in a choked way when Logan's hand flied up to his throath, wrapping around it without issue —damn big hands the Canadian had— and squeezing. Choking a wheezed noise out of his mouth.

"shut your damn mouth if ya wanna keep your throath, bub" Logan growled in the merc's ear, his voice almost like the roar of a lion with how much red he was seeing.

You were just staring at the way Wade's eyes seemed to roll into the back of his head, thighs twitching before shamelessly parting —as if he wanted someone's hand between them—. The mercenary seemed to really be horny for you two.

"really, Wade?" you purred, voice low, as you stared at the young man —letting your husband do the job of shutting him up. "going after a married couple like this? didn't think you'd fall that low.."

Wade struggled to breathe through his nose with Logan's tight grip around his throath, but he spoke nonetheless. "aughn— you two are fucking god- relax the grip old man literally bisexual culture-"

His gasped words only made the growl bubbling up in Logan's throath grow louder. You saw the veins in your husband's arm bulging as he squeezed around Wade's throath again, watching the way the merc choked on his spit —saliva slobbering down the corner of his lips.

You reached out your own hand and placed it atop of Logan's, as if methaporically holding your husband's hand while he choked Wade.

"fucking god you two are really feeding my mommy and daddy issues right now y'kno-oh-oww—"

Wade's spech got cut off my another series of squeezes around his throath, making the mercenary cough and choke on his spit as his head fell forwards against your chest.

"watch your damn mouth, mouth"

"ngh-ah- unluckily for you I've got a thing for being put in my place by dominant, sexy, grown-ups. Big ones with huge—"

His voice died in his own throath when two, huge and thick, fingers were proding at his mouth. Sneaking past his lips and stuffing him full, his eyes rolled back, knees almost buckling underneath him when the meaty taste of sweat invaded his mouth.

"shut it, bub"

"hmn-nhgh"

"you managed to shut him up" you low whistled at your husband, impressed by how quickly and efficiently the merc had shut up. Now busy with nibbling at the fingers inside of his mouth.

"easy peasy" Logan huffed with a slight roll of his eyes. "don't know how long it'll last, though, just look at how damn much the kid's leaking"

Wade whined around Logan's fingers at the way you two were speaking as if he wasn't there, thighs trying to close when he felt your eyes going down and settling on the obvious tent in his pants —and the wet spot.

"so horny" you hummed, more to yourself than anything, before looking back at his face. "what does this mean, baby?" you purred as you pointed to the gold ring on your finger with a neutral look on your face —as if he wasn't coming undone before your eyes. "I don't think you're that dumb yet. C'mon, what does this, right here, mean, Wade?"

Wade struggled to swallow the spit pooling in his mouth around Logan's fingers, body almost tumbling forward when the Canadian ripped his fingers off of his mouth so suddenly.

"I- aughn- I—" he stumbled over his words, swallowing again, as his hazy eyes looked up at you. "that's a daddy and mommy ring" he wheezed out, a little "ah-ah!" escaping his lips when Logan grabbed his hair from the back —forcing him to behave—. "means- angh means that you're married. And old enough to be my grand-parents-"

"That's right, bub" Logan growled, leaning in close to whisper in Wade's ear. "We're a married couple and you're nothing but a pest."

"now, now, darling" you hummed lovingly as you looked at your husband, who was still grabbing Wade by his hair. "don't be so mean.. It turns him on"

That last was a low drawl, before your hand was cuping Wade's cheek and making sure the cold metal of the gold wedding ring you wore was against the merc's skin. "We've lived through wars, honey, you're a literal baby compared to us" you added, voice low and degradatory.

Wade shuddered as the cold metal of your wedding ring pressed against his skin, his eyes looking up at you with a mixture of desire and submission.

"I'm a- nnnng baby" he repeated, almost breathless. "Logan and you are old. So old."

Logan leaned in closer, his hand still clamped around Wade's hair. "Old enough to be your parents" he repeated, his voice dark and gravely. His teeth almost gracing Wade's ear. "Old enough that you shouldn't be interested in us, bub."

"Please, I- I- ahhhhnn I promise I'm good, I promise I'm good, I- I can be good."

It was funny, really, to see such a cocky and show-off of a man being this needy and whiny between you two. But what could you say, it was the Howlett effect.

You slowly slipped your gold wedding band out of your ring finger, right infront of Wade's eyes —watching the way he almost busted on the spot just from the sight alone—.

"this is what'chu want, ain't it honey?" you teased the mercenary trembling and whining between you. "you want this pretty ring on your finger too, don't ya? you wanna be the throphy toy to a hot, married couple old enough to be your parents, don't you, sweetheart?"

You held the wedding ring infront of Wade's face as one of your hands started to rub his arm —slowly going down to his hand—. Wade was shaking, he didn't even know how he hadn't cum untouched yet with how tight and hot his gut felt. All of his muscles coiled.

Wade looked like he was about two seconds away from spontaneously combusting right there in the small supply closet.

"Please" he breathed out, his voice strained and his eyes fixed on the ring in your hand. "Please, I- I want to be- nngah, I want it. I- I'll be good, I- aaahhhnn"

"Are you?" Logan asked, using the grip on Wade's hip to pull him closer against him. "Are you going to behave for us?"

After a series of jerky and rapid nods coming from the drooling mercenary trembling between you, "good fucking boy, there you go" your voice was low and syrupy, as you grabbed Wade's twitching hand and slowly —almost sensually— slipped the cold golden wand on his finger.

It looked as if he was going to combust just from having the ring on his finger, from the implications of having a wedding ring from a married couple on his finger.

Maybe you'd find an explanation for the creamy wet spot between Wade's legs and the way he was wearing your wedding ring when you meet the team in a few minutes. Or maybe you won't, who knows.

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aroaceleovaldez · 5 months ago

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I was reading a post about CoTG and I realized: Rick has seemingly started to write every character pairing with the exact same dynamic, and he's not good at writing that dynamic and it doesn't make sense for 90% of the characters he writes it for.

It's that very specific dynamic of one half of the pair who is almost aggressive to the other party - "teasing" them constantly/insulting them, affectionately punching/judo flipping/maiming/etc, seemingly almost always exasperated with the other - and said other party usually just accepts this treatment or blanketly views it fondly, and may generally be framed as more incompetent than their partner and a little bit of a doormat (particularly relating to being insulted/teased/etc by their partner).

We start seeing this dynamic in HoO with Percy and Annabeth, as a sort of semi-inconsistent twist on their rivals-to-friends-to-lovers dynamic from the first series. Then the dynamic pattern develops further with Leo and Calypso. Then Magnus and Alex. Then Nico and Will, particularly in TSATS. And now in CoTG, it's Percy and Annabeth again but even more in this direction.

I know people have talked about Nico and Will's relationship over the series rapidly being shoehorned into Percabeth Two™, and it's extremely apparent in TSATS that Rick's doing it on purpose (including directly quoting Percabeth scenes but minorly tweaking them to be Solangelo). But recognizing it as an overarching trend in Rick's later books honestly reminds me a lot of how Rick started trying to apply the "Percy Formula" so-to-speak to nearly every protagonist in HoO (and then try to replicate similar character archetypes with Magnus and Apollo's narrations - moreso Magnus in being jaded and sarcastic, very much trying to be first series Percy. He only sounds unique because Rick failed at making him Percy 2. Apollo is more akin to later-series Percy characterization of being goofy and incompetent. Apollo [and Zeus] even got retconned to give Apollo a more similar backstory to Percy's). Rick seems to have decided that he thinks the audience wants this specific dynamic but 10 times over, except he's not good at writing it the first time because it's a bastardization of the time he did a different thing okay.

And Rick also seems aware of that too! Because he retconned Calypso and Leo at the end of TOA, probably because he realized how absolutely awful it was reading when they were written with that dynamic of Calypso just functionally hating Leo and constantly being aggressive towards him! The only time Rick's actually made the dynamic even semi-successful was with Magnus and Alex, because it actually fits within their characters, their dynamics with each other, and their environment. Alex beheading Magnus on the regular works out fine because there are no repercussions to that in Valhalla, Magnus will be fine, so it does genuinely come off as humorous. And Alex has been effectively established to be abrasive at times but have her genuine feelings shine through regularly, and that meshes well with Magnus' jaded-and-aloof-but-quietly-very-empathetic character. And Magnus has been established to, yes, not be great at combat, particularly compared to Alex. They are the only time that flavor of dynamic in that form was effective and cohesive.

Percabeth is no longer rivals-to-friends-to-lovers badasses on equal levels with shaky pasts who finally found some form of permanence with one another. Now it's super smart doting and affectionately aggressive girlfriend and her silly goofy 50%-of-the-time incompetent boyfriend who she judo flips/pushes off cliffs/etc - but affectionately~! Solangelo is trying to riff off of the early series "Poseidon & Athena are enemies" dynamic that Percabeth had but with Apollo & Hades being "opposites" but learning to accept each other, except it ends up with Will just coming off as a huge asshole and Nico being retconned to a complete doormat about it - when prior to that those characterizations would be completely contrary to their established characters (even just from TOA!). Calypso in HoO gets retconned from her PJO characterization to being snooty and aggressive, and Leo's false persona gets merged into his just normal personality except he just also becomes a doormat but more goofy than Nico with occasional haha-dark/depression-humor! Which Nico also got. Which was also a bastardized Percy trait that got redistributed.

It's exhausting. Rick write more than one relationship dynamic you can do it I promise

#pjo #riordanverse #percy jackson #tsats #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #will solace #mcga #magnus chase #alex fierro #leo valdez #calypso pjo #analysis #< bwah i feel bad putting that many tags but it is relevant #rr crit #< i guess?#tsats crit #< that one can be here though. the other crit tag is usually for Bad Stuff ergo why i feel weird putting it. this one's just random stuff #i feel like i should tag ships too cause it is an analysis of those ship dynamics in canon but i dont want it to come off as shipbashing :(#eh fuck it i'll ship tag. disclaimer- this is not shipbashing i am just doing analysis of how rick is bad at writing this specific dynamic #i am tagging these ships for relevancy and analysis purposes only. i do not intend to be mean about them re: fanon #fierrochase #percabeth #solangelo #caleo #i do think this is good to note though with writing these dynamics - like rick's intentions vs execution vs consistent characterization #i think you could also argue Carter and Zia exhibit some traits of this dynamic? like an early form of it in Rick's writing perhaps #i havent reread it in awhile though so i will save my thoughts on it for later #long post //#forgive if this post is semi-incomprehensible it was a quick late night rambly thing

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dc-comics-enjoyer · 5 months ago

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Okay I think there's no way Bruce manages his own social media. He's Bruce Wayne™ so I think he most probably has a whole team of community managers. Now, the thing is Bruce lets them do their work freely. So, he finds himself in situations where he's genuinely clueless for once in his life.

---

Damian, reading his father's tweet out loud : "Happy birthday to my son, my sunshine, the best of them all : Tim Drake.", What. Do. You. Mean. "best of them all", Father ?!

Bruce : huh ?

---

Clark : You know, the fact that you identify as a... *reads his screen* Uhm, dilf - whatever that means - doesn't change anything for me.

Bruce : huh ?

Clark shows him the tweet that goes "Be kind, fam, I'm coming out : I'm officially a DILF"

(editor's note : i know Clark probably knows what a dilf is but I think it's hilarious to portray those two as clueless old men.)

---

Journalist : Mister Wayne ! After the recent fire at the Anti-abortion rally, you've tweeted, and I quote : "Lit 🔥". What does it mean ?

Bruce, a gen X : Well... I think I just wanted to describe the... Uh, fire. It did lit up the place, didn't it ?

---

Jason, on his phone : What ?!

Bruce : What is it ?

Jason : You're DMing fucking Kim Kardashian ??

Bruce : huh ?

Jason : She tweeted "just signed the divorce papers and Bruce Wayne already slid in my DMs. I don't make the rules 🤷��♀️"

---

At a talk show.

Host : So, Bruce, you've recently created controversy by posting this.

Appears a tweet on the screen that reads : "Eat the rich ? More like eat out the rich, plz 😔👉👈"

Host : What do you think ?

Bruce, clears his throat : You see... What even is the internet ? Hah.

---

Oliver, on the phone : Bruce ! Why the hell did you come at me like that ?

Bruce : huh ?

Oliver, lounging on his bed : "Just saw Ollie try to flirt at this party I'm in rn. Big yikes." Tweeted 10 minutes ago. What party, you asshole ?!

Bruce : ...

---

Clark : What does... yiyik (?) mean ?

Bruce : huh ?

Clark : You tweeted "Superman's clavicles. Iykyk"

Bruce : *shrugs* I have no idea.

---

Tim : Uh, hey, Bruce...

Bruce : Yes ?

Tim : Say, why would you agree to a boxing match against Logan Paul ?

Bruce : huh, who ?

---

Steph : Why would you want to have beef with Rihanna ?

Bruce: huh ?

Steph, shows him his tweet that reads "Tested Fenty's new line... Let me tell you, I'd rather put garbage on my face. And I fuckin' love my face."

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honeyedmiller · 9 months ago

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The Hills | Joel Miller

pairing: actor!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: no outbreak!joel, joel miller au, use of marijuana (reader gets high and joel takes a hit), alcohol consumption, enemies to not-so-much-enemies, joel is on his freak shit in this one, smut (fingering, ass play, cum eating, rimming, unprotected piv, spitting, m & f oral receiving, consensual choking and breath play), reader is lowkey a brat but joel is also an ass, joel’s twitchy palm™, two (2) ass slaps, reader is described to be wearing a dress and heels, mentions of usage of cocaine (non-descriptive and it’s neither reader or joel using—just had to add the warning), no use of y/n. if there’s anything that i missed, please lmk.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: drugs. sex. fame. joel miller—the very man you despise. something about hollywood or other. it all seems to become a blurred line when you get invited to an oscars after party at a house in the hills.

a/n: shoutout to @joelsgreys for keeping eyes on this for me, for beta’ing, for letting me rant about this continuously in our texts, etc etc. ily

Hollywood: the definition of glitz and glamor, celebrities galore, and wild parties.

Right?

Sort of.

You’d been to these afterparties before—chaos, laughter, and drunk or high celebrities every which way. The afterparties that showed the real side of Hollywood’s favorite people. The afterparties where secretive sex ensues in a hidden room tucked in the back of the mansion. The afterparties where people let loose, had fun, and celebrated their wins, or the wins of their friends.

That’s exactly why you were here. This particular multi-million dollar home was chalk-full of familiar famous faces that would get absolutely trashed without the public knowing a single thing about their rendezvous, celebrating each other’s wins.

It was like an unspoken rule amongst all the attendees: what happens at the after party, stays at the after party.

Tess Servopoulos, a well-known actress, was your best friend. She always invited you to the award shows when she could, and made sure you were invited to the afterparties. In this case, it was the after party for The Oscars, where her other best friend was celebrating his wins tonight, taking home three Oscars just hours prior.

And it’s funny, because to you, the devil wasn’t down in Georgia. He was in fucking Los Angeles, California, and his name is Joel Miller.

Arrogant, conceited, and a complete asshole as far as you were concerned. You’d never had a good interaction with the man, always seeming to have targeted hatred toward you for no particular reason.

So you hated him right back.

Because, honestly, who the fuck did he think he was?

You didn’t give two shits if he was an A-lister. Good for him. His arrogance and asshole-ish nature was enough to make you roll your eyes at the mere sight of him. He was one of those people that everybody seemed to absolutely adore, thinking he was doing everyone a solid favor just by being in their presence.

And you think, the fuck does it matter anyway? Your opinion of one man in a room full of elites is about as relevant as a speck of fucking dirt on the bottom of some Louboutins.

You inwardly sighed and drank from the champagne flute that was placed in your hand once you maneuvered your way into the house. Tess dragged you along to say hello to people you’ve met before, and introduced you to those you hadn’t. Most of them were fairly nice, some remembering you from previous parties or recognizing you in god-awful candid shots that paparazzi took of you when you were with Tess.

Tabloids were always a funny thing. There were multiple times where you’d see a photo of yourself in public with Tess, plastered in some stupid celebrity magazine claiming you were her ‘mystery lover.’ Or, there were the times where they’d call you a gold digger; someone who wanted fifteen minutes of fame and all the “luxuries” that came with being acquainted with a celebrity.

You always had a good laugh with Tess about them, and she’d tell you that one day she’d share the story behind you: a college roommate who was her total opposite, but it worked. You were there from the beginning—she’d get casted in parts for commercials, then extras for TV shows, and then bigger roles like a supporting character, and eventually the lead character in many blockbuster hits.

You were her biggest supporter, there for her through her wins and losses. She was truly your platonic soulmate, and you, hers.

You always plastered a smile on your face when making your rounds at these things. Got a little star-struck here and there, but you kept your cool. Celebrities are human beings, after all.

The party was in full swing, people plastered and laughing loudly over the thumping music. Sometimes you thought these parties got a little ridiculous, but you knew this was a rare occasion where these people—faces of the public, under a watchful eye of millions of adoring fans and the scrutinizing media—got the chance to loosen up and be their real selves.

You swirled the champagne around your flute, babysitting the same glass from when you first walked into this party. You leaned against a crisp white wall adorned with what you were sure were very expensive paintings, observing the crowd before you.

The familiarity that drifted through the room was almost unsettling for you. Friends with arms slung over each other’s shoulders, casual and comfortable conversation—and then there was you, who didn’t really know anyone but Tess. She didn’t want to leave your side, but she’d gotten pulled every which way for a conversation and you didn’t want to ride her coattail all night, so you told her you’d get yourself another drink, maybe.

And you were going to, but then the room felt a little too warm. So, naturally, you ventured down another long hallway adorned with paintings and expensive side tables with vases that held fresh flowers that probably cost more than you’d ever see in your lifetime.

Your heels clicked rhythmically against the marble flooring as you made your way to two French double doors that led out to a balcony that was unoccupied.

Perfect.

You opened the doors and sucked in a huge breath of air, admiring the lights gleaming throughout the whole of Los Angeles as far as you could see.

And then you wondered, with every house and apartment and business that was illuminated with a soft yellow light, what each individual occupying these spaces stories were.

People that weren’t famous. People that had regular nine-to-five jobs. People who were desperately trying to make ends meet. People like you, you think.

You loved Tess to death. You’d do anything and everything for her, but Hollywood was secretly a massive headache.

You sighed as you tore your eyes away from the soft lights, opening your clutch to find the joint you brought. Just something to take the edge off and ease the fucking nerves that started coursing through you, unwanted and untimely.

You fished the pre-roll and lighter out of your bag, flicking the lighter on in multiple attempts, but no avail.

You groaned as you kept trying, but the realization that your lighter was done for had swept over you quickly.

“Son of a bitch.” You mutter with a heavy sigh.

“Need a light?” A deep voice asked from behind. A familiar voice. A voice with Southern twang that supposedly charmed every person that was blessed to hear it. A voice you couldn’t fucking stand.

You look over your shoulder to see Joel Miller in the flesh, clad in a crisp white button-down with the top two buttons unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest. The shirt was tucked into some black slacks, accompanied by shiny black shoes.

You hated to admit that he looked good. Real good. But you wouldn’t ever dare to admit that out loud, even with a gun to your head.

“No.” You said, turning back around. His footsteps become closer, and you roll your eyes before you have to restrain yourself from physically shuddering at the proximity between you two.

“Stop bein’ a brat and jus’ take the goddamn light.” Joel rolls his eyes, and you turn to face him. He’s next to you now, leaning against the balcony while holding up a lighter.

You eye him conspicuously, and he looks annoyed as he flicks the lighter on and off. You grit your teeth before slotting the joint between your fingers, bringing it up to your lips.

He easily flicks his lighter on once more, bringing the flame to the end of the joint. The small flame illuminates the space between your bodies, and he looks good with the soft orange glow against his tan skin, you think.

The end of the joint crackles and you inhale deeply, turning your body toward the lights of the city once more.

You blow out the smoke slowly, tilting your head to the side. “Thanks,” You mutter.

“Hm,” He hums, “Would ya look at that. Not that hard to use your manners now, ain’t it?”

“Shut up, Joel. Christ.” You rub your forehead with your thumb, eyebrows pinching together. You came out here for some peace, not to be annoyed and antagonized by the very man you couldn’t stand.

“Hey, I jus’ did ya a favor. No need for that fuckin’ attitude of yours.”

“Jesus fuck, Joel, do you not have anything better to do? Shouldn’t you be fucking one of your whores by now or snorting coke in the bathroom with another beloved A-lister?” You roll your eyes and take another hit.

Joel didn’t like that one bit. He took a step forward, broad body hard to ignore with the heat radiating off of him. Your eyes trail up his chest and to his face, which was contorted with pure anger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talkin’ to me like that? You’re pissin’ off the wrong person, doll.” Joel’s voice is gruff, full of patience that was smaller than a piece of thread at this point.

“I don’t need to bow down to you just because you’re famous, asshole. You’re the one who’s had the problem with me from the beginning. I only reciprocate the energy I receive, so you can fuck all the way off with the superiority complex you think you have over me.”

“Why the fuck are you here anyway? Hollywood ain’t a place for naïve girls like you.” Joel quirks his harsh brow at you, like he’s challenging you.

Motherfucker.

“And who said I was naïve, cowboy? You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know that you’re annoyin’ and don’t fuckin’ belong here. God knows what Tess sees in you as a friend n’ why she keeps invitin’ you to these things.”

Your blood ran hot as you stared at the man in front of you. His jaw was set in a hard line, clenching his teeth every so often in pure annoyance as he looked at you with utter hatred and disgust.

“I may not belong in Hollywood, Miller, but at least my fucking morals are right and I don’t pull bitch moves like abandoning my friends when they need me the most.”

You were infuriated and quite frankly so fucking sick of this man berating you when he should be the last person on this green fucking Earth to talk. It was a low blow, your last comment to him, but what kind of a friend was he to choose a woman he was so pussywhipped over instead of being there for Tess when she was going through a rough time?

It broke your heart to see her so upset that Joel chose another woman he barely knew over her, icing her out when she’d been nothing but a good friend to him. She forgave him, of course, after he’d apologized to her months later.

She had a kinder heart than you would’ve at the situation. You don’t think you could ever forgive somebody for that.

You already thought Joel was an arrogant asshole before that even happened, but that situation was the last nail in the coffin to confirm that he’s exactly the person you thought he was.

“I apologized to her. We’re good now.” Joel’s harsh stare never wavered, but the annoyance in his tone did. He almost sounded…sad.

“Yeah. Whatever.” You roll your eyes, flicking the ash off of the end of the joint before taking another hit. Your mind was already starting to become hazy, and the proximity between you and Joel was starting to make your head spin.

Your gaze flickered up to his face once more, brown eyes still locked on you. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, Joel plucks the joint from your fingers. He puts the filter up to his lips and deeply inhales, and you frown.

“Get your own recreational drugs, asshole.” You mutter, arms crossing over your chest. Joel’s eyes trail down to your chest before moving back up to yours. A small smirk evades his lips, and he blows the smoke into your face.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

“Fuck you gonna do? Spank me for not thinking you’re all high and mighty and shit?” The frown is permanent on your face as you assess him, not realizing the impact that your words had on him.

His cock stirred in his slacks at the thought of that.

He stubs out the half-finished joint before handing it back to you. You tuck it away in your purse before looking at him again, carefully studying him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He’s got a knowing look on his face, and you have to force yourself to feign disgust.

Because, goddammit, you probably would. You’d probably be all over him if he wasn’t such a fucking asshole. The rage you’ve targeted toward him has made you see past his rugged looks and charm, the broadness of him and the veins that protrude from his hands to his forearms and—

You’ve wondered briefly what it’d be like to succumb to it. To be like every single other person who melts for him like lava seeping into the deepest cracks of the Earth. Untouchable. Destructive. And yet, a beautiful aftermath.

“Think I’ll take that as a yes.” His laugh rumbles from deep within his sturdy chest. For a moment he looks so carefree, so light and happy while he laughs. It might’ve been at your own expense, but for the slightest second, you saw through the harsh stares and the hateful demeanor.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

His mouth snapped shut and his harsh gaze settled on you again. His nostrils flared as he glared at you, a heat behind his eyes you’ve never seen before. His palm twitches at his side and he opens his mouth to say something argumentative, but closes it after a second.

Before you know it, he wraps his hand around your forearm, dragging you behind him.

You nearly trip over your heels as you try to keep up with him, wriggling in his strong grasp. He wouldn’t let up.

“Let go of me you asshole!” You seethe, but he pushes you into a room—tucked at the back of the mansion—secluded from everyone else. Oh.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You quickly realized you were in for it when he shut the door and locked it. Nerves buzzed in your veins and you inhaled a shaky breath.

He looked like he was some sort of predator stalking its prey with the way his eyes scanned your body as he moved around to the other side of the room.

“Real fuckin’ sick of your attitude.” He starts. You scoff at him and throw your arms up.

“Wouldn’t have to deal with it if you just left me the fuck alone in the first place.” You cross your arms over your chest once more, and Joel takes two large strides toward you before he’s standing so close that you can smell the whiskey and weed on his breath.

“N’ that’s the problem, darlin’, I can’t leave you alone. Been wanting to fuck that attitude right outta you since the first day we met.”

You swear your heart drops into your ass. “Wh-what?” Your eyes are wide as he walks forward, forcing you to move backwards until the backs of your knees hit the king-sized bed.

You didn’t even notice there was a bed in the room because the very man before you was insanely distracting.

“You heard me. You’re a brat, baby, n’ brats deserve to be punished.”

You swallow hard as a fire burns behind his eyes, mischievous and daring.

“Joel—”

“Turn around.”

You don’t even think twice before listening to his demand, turning around so you face the bed.

“Can’t hate me that much if you’re an obedient little thing for me, hm?” The amusement was oozing from his Southern drawl.

Your first instinct was to argue with him, but deep down you knew he was right. Maybe all the hatred you had for him had a little bit of desire sprinkled deep down in the depths of your core, unexplored and completely disregarded.

The thought of his hands on you excited you. You saw the way he touched women in the movies he was in. Regardless if it was just acting or not, you always ended up aroused after Tess would force you to watch any movie of his—especially the ones with erotica. She would tease you about not liking him, unknowing of the true abhorrence that stirred in your body. He was her best friend too, so you had to be cordial to him around her for her sake.

You tried to ignore him altogether, but where it got you now—pressed up against the bed as his large hands landed onto your body to tightly grip your hips—didn’t seem to pan out so well.

“Will you let me touch you?” His voice has a rough edge to it, the teasing long gone as he stares at your figure from behind.

“Yes.” You whisper.

He doesn’t say another word as his calloused hands slide around your thighs and to the front of your body. He presses himself against you, and the warmth he radiates off of his body alone makes you sigh.

He’s so sturdy and strong, just as you imagined him to be. You could feel his cock hardening against the plump of your ass, and you wiggle in the slightest to tease him.

He inhales sharply, one hand sliding underneath the hem of your dress while the other hand splayed out onto your stomach.

The skimpy panties you had on did a terrible job at keeping your arousal strictly within the confines of the lace fabric. The apex of your thighs was smeared with the neediness you refused to address, now completely on display for the man it was all for.

Joel’s hand skimmed your inner thighs, chuckling darkly as he traced the outline of your pussy with his thumb through the fabric.

You tried your hardest to hold back a moan, really. You fucking tried. As soon as the sound bubbled in your throat and glided past your lips, you could feel Joel’s smile in victory. He was always playing chess while you were playing checkers.

Well, check fucking mate for him.

“Didn’t know I got ya this excited, baby.” He grips the hem of your panties, sliding them down your legs. You step out of them and he immediately pockets them.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” You mumble, not wanting to feed into his already huge ego.

“Oh I’m sure I’m not,” He starts, breath hot on your neck. “Doesn’t mean I won’t ruin every other fuckin’ man for you. Bend over.”

You clench around nothing at his words, deciding that staying silent is better than digging yourself deeper into your own fucking grave.

You do as he says and bend over the bed, cheek resting against the soft silk sheets.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ make sure I’m all you think about after this. Fuck yourself with your fingers to flashbacks of tonight. Moanin’ my fuckin’ name all alone in your house, wishing I was there to take care of you instead. Fuckin’ brat.”

His words sound like a simultaneous threat and promise, but you just had to say something. You couldn’t let him completely have this without giving him some kind of shit.

“Oh please, I bet I’ll forget as soon as we walk out of this room. You’ve probably got a small dick anyway.”

And you know that isn’t true. He’s huge, and you know he’ll never let you forget about tonight.

A sharp sting blooms onto one of your asscheeks, the sound of him smacking your flesh reverberating off of the walls of the bedroom. You moan at the delicious pain.

“You n’ I both know that ain’t true, doll. Enough with that fuckin’ mouth of yours. Could put it to better use than talkin’ all that shit.”

His hands knead the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get a good look at all of you. You almost feel embarrassed, but decide not to get into your head too much about it because all you want him to do is fucking touch you where you need him the most.

Your core was aching. You were almost ready to put your pride aside and fucking beg him to touch you. Almost.

You were about to give in when you heard him shuffle behind you, and you craned your neck to see Joel drop onto his knees behind you.

His eyes locked with yours as he gave you a smirk before leaning forward to bite your ass. You let out a small yelp, and his hand was quick to soothe the pain.

“Gonna fuckin’ set you right once n’ for all.”

And he brings a hand up to your core, sliding his middle and ring finger through your dripping folds. You whimper softly at the sensation, a small flood of relief coursing through your veins. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily, and Joel tsks at you.

“Greedy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ya? Patience is a virtue, baby.” He chides.

“Goddamnit Joel.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to your own surprise.

Suddenly, Joel slips his two fingers into you, and your hands fly out to grip the sheets beneath you. Your eyebrows furrow together and relish in the feeling of his thick fingers scissoring in and out of your aching cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet already. ‘F I woulda known I did this to ya…” He chuckles, working his fingers in and out of you expertly.

He leans forward and licks up your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit. You can’t help the strangled moan that leaves your mouth, and you can just feel Joel’s cocky ass smirk.

He continues lapping up your arousal, more dripping out around his fingers and down to his wrist. It'd been awhile since anyone touched you like this, so you presume you were extra turned on because of that reason.

You didn’t want to give all the credit to Joel.

His tongue slid up and he removed his fingers from you, replacing them with his tongue as he prodded it into your entrance and fucked you with it.

You were already a moaning mess, like you were on cloud nine with the way he was making you feel. He gripped both of your cheeks and spread them further for his own leisure, tongue dragging upward until it met your asshole.

“Holy fuck, Joel—” You choke out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he swirls his tongue around the tight ring. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Joel lowly moaned around you, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine.

You don’t know how long he’s doing this for—your mind is still hazy from the high you’ve been riding, pleasure wrapped around every single inch of your body. You lose track of time and immerse yourself in how he’s making you feel.

Joel pulls himself away from you, sliding both of his fingers back into you. This time, though, he teases your other hole with the tip of his pinky.

“You ever let anyone fuck this pretty ass of yours with their fingers?”

“Please.” Was all you could squeak out, because while you didn’t want to admit you never have, you were willing to give it a go. It was obvious he knew what he was doing, and if you didn’t like the way something felt, you’d just tell him.

He spits onto your asshole before grunting, “Relax.”

And you do. He slides his pinky into your puckered hole, and fuck you feel so full with him like this. He works his three fingers in and out of you slowly at first, each move calculated and precise.

He may’ve been an asshole, but he at least wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

He picks up the pace of his fingers after he’s sure you can handle it, and the feeling of pleasure seizes your body as you shake underneath him.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. You can feel your orgasm rapidly building building building, the coil wound so tight that your stomach constricts in plea of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Joel I’m gonna—oh fuck!”

And you’re literally gushing around his fingers. He prolongs your orgasm as long as he can. You think he’s saying things like there you go, that’s it, but you can hardly pay attention over the loud ringing in your ears as you try and come down from your Earth-shattering orgasm.

He slips his fingers out of you slowly, watching your body convulse sporadically from the aftermath of it all.

He grabs your body and flips you around so you’re laying at the edge of the bed. The fluorescent lights are blinding as you try and look at his face. You blink rapidly, chest heaving up and down as you try your damndest to find your bearings once more.

He’s unfastening the button on his slacks, and all you can hear is the rustle of the fabric and the thumping music outside of the locked door.

You wondered briefly if anyone—Tess, specifically—was looking for the two of you. You’d be mortified if she found you like this, but Joel was smart enough to lock the doors.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even noticed he was pulling down his underwear, so when you looked back at him you gasped when you saw his stiff, aching length. Your hunch was correct—he was huge. His tip was red, smeared with precome and just begging to be taken care of.

If there was any time in your life to impress Joel Miller, now was your chance. You sit up on your knees and lower your head, looking up at him through your lashes, your mouth inches away from his tip.

The muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, brown eyes watching you meticulously. You gave him a small, cocky smirk before you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste. You use one hand to steady yourself onto the bed, and the other to wrap around his length as you start to pump him slowly.

He inhales sharply, holding back a groan as you undoubtedly start to please him.

You set a steady rhythm between your hand and mouth. The wet sounds are obscene and nearly pornographic. A part of you wishes this was being recorded so you’d have something to watch back when you needed to get yourself off.

Greed is a tragedy, and tragic you were in this moment.

Joel’s hand flies to the back of your head, cradling it as you remove your hand and slide your lips as far down his shaft as your mouth would allow. The head of his cock hit the back of your throat, and as much as you were salivating, you swallowed around him.

The tip of your nose barely made contact with the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, and Joel let out the most guttural groan you’d ever heard.

“Filthy fuckin’ mouth, baby. Goddamn. Knew it could be put to better use than you—ngh—spewin’ that fuckin’ attitude.”

You hum around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. His pants were getting more rapid and he was becoming more vocal, grunting fuck and filthy, filthy girl.

“Shit, yeah, just like that doll. Just. Like. That.” Joel’s voice is hoarse behind his clenched teeth. If you didn’t know any better, he’d probably shatter his teeth with how hard he was clenching them.

And you don’t let up. Not even after a string of curses spills past his lips, and definitely not after he groans so loudly that it vibrates through his whole body as ropes of his come spill down your throat.

You’re in overstimulation territory, and he’s falling apart at the seams.

He pulls your head off of his length as he tries to catch his breath, sweat beading at his temples.

“Fuckin’ christ.” He breathes, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you again.

“Didn’t know I would be so good at that now, did you?” You tease, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a snarl.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, and you laugh. He grabs your hips suddenly, flipping you around once more so you’re on all fours for him again.

“‘M’keepin’ my promise. Gonna fuck that attitude straight outta your goddamn brain.” His tone is serious, and you’re beginning to think he really isn’t fucking around.

You hear him pump himself a few times and you think about the dangerous threshold you’re about to cross with him. Would you regret it after? Would he?

It was like you were both taking a bite of forbidden fruit, specially picked from the Garden of Eden.

Fuck it. There’s worse things you can do.

“You on any birth control?” He asks, and you nod.

“IUD.”

“Good.” He says before sliding the head of his cock through your folds. Your body jerks when it catches your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

Without another word, Joel pushes into you and you stretch around him deliciously. It’s like your body was begging for him to be inside you at this point.

“Fuuuck.” Joel groans, gripping your hips so tightly they’d probably be bruised by tomorrow.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, because he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and the sting won’t go away.

“Move, Joel.” You plead, and he smacks your ass once again, making you flutter around his cock.

“Fuck did I say about patience? Christ, woman.”

You shut your eyes as you feel him become fully erect inside you, and you’re seriously going to cry if he doesn’t move soon.

Almost as if he’d read your mind, he started to thrust his hips slowly. It didn’t take long for him to set a pace, though, and he was brutally pistoning in and out of you.

“Fucking…. hate… you.” You spit pathetically, holding onto the sheets for dear life. He laughs dryly behind you, mumbling a sure before going even harder.

Your moans were getting louder and louder, and you truthfully couldn’t give two fucks who heard you at this point.

Fucking let them hear.

“Better hush up now, whole house could probably hear you with how loud you’re bein’.” He scolded, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t give a fuck,” You squeaked out, “Let them.”

“Attagirl,” His laugh was mischievous, pounding into you even faster than before. “Little fuckin’ whore loves takin’ this cock, hm?”

One of his hands moved up your body, causing chills down your spine and goosebumps to raise onto your skin.

His hand wrapped around your throat, and you moaned at the idea of getting choked out while he fucked you from behind.

One of your hands flew up to his, and he was half expecting you to yank it away. He was pleasantly surprised when you clamped your fingers down around his, silently urging him to squeeze.

And he did. You felt like you were fucking floating.

Joel didn’t let up, even when you felt the burning hot coil wind up in your core once again.

“Feel so fucking good– s–o so fucking— fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess. He pulls your body up so your back is facing his front, never letting his pace waver.

“Fucking you dumb on my cock, aren’t I? Listen to you, baby. Pathetic.” He laughs at you once again, but you don’t have any willpower to fight back. You just let it happen, because each thrust of his cock into you has your body turning into complete fucking mush.

“Close.” Is what you whisper, and Joel can feel your walls tightening around him. He chokes on a moan at the sensation, fingers tightening around your throat even more.

You can barely breathe, but you fucking love it. You love seeing stars cloud your vision like this. The heightened sensation of your orgasm comes crashing down over you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you silently scream out.

Your body convulses continuously as you try to ride out your orgasm, but Joel’s hand leaves your throat and moves down to your clit to rub at it furiously.

You cry out his name, your hands frantic to find purchase to anything as you try and brace yourself.

It’s no use, though. Your body is limp and your soul fucking escaped from you long ago.

“Where do you want me?” The urgency in his voice is evident, but you’re in such a daze that you barely clock it.

“Inside me.” You manage, and he groans loudly before he lets go, filling you up with everything he has. His body slumps over yours, both of you trying so hard to pull yourselves back to reality.

He slides out of you and you both groan at the loss of being one.

You turn over on your back, once again blinded by the lights. Your eyes flutter close as you assess everything that partook the last—thirty? fourty? you don’t fucking know—minutes of your life.

Your body slowly floats back down to reality, and you peel your eyes open when you hear shuffling. Joel is on his knees again, spreading your legs to look at his handiwork. He looks up at you with that same devilish smirk, licking up his spend from your cunt before hovering over you.

He uses his thumb to coax your jaw open, spitting his spend into your mouth.

“Swallow.” He demands, and you do as he says. You open your mouth to show him you did, and a satisfied look washes over his features.

“Hope you feel me leakin’ out of you all goddamn night, sweetheart.”

You look at him incredulously, reality crashing down with the unwavering truth: you and Joel really fucked.

He was inches away from your face, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would be like if he kissed you. His lips looked so soft.

But that would make it too complicated. It would turn into a thing you didn’t need it to be, and you knew kissing him would make the probability of hating him into a fucking zero.

Get a grip.

But, you catch him. You catch his eyes flicker down to your lips, the same thing probably reeling in his mind, too.

Maybe one wouldn’t hurt.

No. You wouldn’t allow it for yourself. He can take his Southern charm and shove it up his ass.

You cleared your throat and moved to stand up. Your legs were shaky at first, but you found your grounding as you walked over to the mirror on the other side of the room.

You straightened out your appearance, making sure you didn’t have “I just got fucked” plastered across your forehead. Once you were satisfied, you turned around to see Joel sitting on the bed.

You nod at him once, “Joel,” and you’re unlocking the door to be rejoined by the thumping music and loud laughter, leaving him to stare at you as you walked away.

You made your way into the backyard, needing a breath of fresh air after everything that ensued.

“There you are! I was looking all over for you.” Tess pulls you into her side, giving your arm a playful squeeze as she holds you close.

“Yeah, I uh, went to smoke a J.” Which, yes, was of course partially true—but you’d probably never admit to her that you just got done getting your brains fucked out by Joel Miller.

She probably wouldn’t even believe you if you told her, anyway.

It didn’t need to become a thing, even if it was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Sex you’d probably be having flashbacks about years down the line, just as Joel promised.

You groan inwardly, eyes drifting upward to casually scan the backyard. You caught a familiar pair already staring at you from across the way, and your whole body bloomed with aching heat once more.

Those brown eyes were accompanied with a sickening smirk, and two seconds later, a wink.

You knew no matter how hard you tried, and as much as you fucking despised him, it wouldn’t be easy to get him out of your head.

You were so fucked, you think.

The idea of admitting that you maybe didn’t hate him was unwarranted, but you knew deep down it was your reality. You really didn’t hate him.

And maybe, just maybe, these parties weren’t so bad after all.

tags: @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @punkshort @endlessthxxghts

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #actor!joel #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #fic: the hills

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arieswritez · 7 months ago

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puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

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aachria · 7 months ago

Text

The long awaited (maybe? Idk how many of you were waiting for this) SSSBMTY College AU!

Majors in bold

Headcanons in regular text

Notes about the art indented in orange

Luffy — Undeclared

Was forced into school by his gramps. (The university dean. The fucking dorm building all the Strawhats but Jimbei live in is named after him.)(it was this or join the navy.) Takes the most random classes he can. Some of them are advanced and require perquisites and no one knows how he keeps getting into them. Wears shorts and sandals in winter & will run any errand or do any odd job for food. He has a very nice bike he got for free from a garage sale that Franky fixed up. There's a campus wide bet on when and what he'll choose as his major. His bucket hat was a gift from Shanks, the universities World Economics prof. Has a million friendship bracelets on his ankles because Ed makes them when they're stressed. Never has a bag on him. Fights Canadian geese on the way to class, like a fucking maniac. Protected species who?

When I tell you that this drawing of Luffy is the first time I've ever drawn actual feet with toes that don't look fucking ridiculous I need to cheer for me. Why is he a different flavour of boy every time I draw him please. His ass isn't rubber in this universe, of course he's scuffed to shit. Chopper ran out of Spiderman bandaids, sorry bud. Advocate for the Single Piercing Luffy™ agenda, he went and got it done with Ed when they got their helix.

Ed — English major Psychology minor

Took History of Piracy for easy grades & a story idea. Known around campus as that asshole who'll tell you exactly which of your roommates ate your leftovers for $5. Is roommates with Luffy because of a system mix-up when they got distributed. Always wears a Burberry trench coat Nami thrifted for $3 and gave them as a bday gift. Carries everything in a ratty falling apart messenger bag. Them and Luffy filled out marriage papers on a dare, Zoro (who got legally ordained on a dare minutes before) oversaw that, Zoro and Ed filed the papers when they were drunk. So Ed and Luffy are legally married. And they don't even notice until tax season and Jonah, Ed's accounting friend, asks about it.

I need you to ignore the inconsistence with the hands in these ok? Some of them get very nice and normal hands, and others get weird shaped blobs. Sorry Ed, them's the breaks kid.

Zoro — Health and Fitness major Mathematics minor

Literally no one knows why he has a Mathematics minor, least of all him. P sure he walked into the wrong class on the first day and just stuck with it. The most terrifying captain of the kendo team the university has ever had. He's won more championships and trophies in his tenure than the school has in its history, the revenue he brings in from sponsorships and such make them turn a blind eye to his... eccentricities (three sword style. Nobody has stopped him yet, anyone who says it's illegal gets penalized). Has had campus security called on him so often from being creepy when walking home from the gym in the dark there's a poster of him in the security office that says 'NOT ACTUALLY A THREAT. JUST WEIRD AND WALKS WITH PURPOSE.'

Zoro's sword patch on his jacket was designed by Usopp, embroidered by Luffy for a class (shittily) and fixed up and sewn on by Ed. Those docs have seen war. He has put them through hell. He has walked through a fucking river with those things, he superglues them back together every time they break. Franky had to strongarm him into getting the soles professionally replaced.

Nami — Meteorology major Finance minor

All of her clothes are thrifted designer things. Regularly terrorizes Value Village employees. Anything she has that isn't thrifted she gets from the many estate sales she plagues, snatching grandma's entire Chanel collection and all her nicest jewelry. She has absolutely everything anyone could ever need in her purse. Tampons and pads? She gotchu. Extra pens? It'll cost you, but yeah. A curling iron? Sure, why the hell not. She runs the betting pool on Luffy's major with Ed. She also writes a gossip column for the school newspaper and has a podcast she uploads a new episode to every few months. Shows up to every class looking like a supermodel no matter the time. 7am? Perfect. 10pm? Fabulous. Your go-to if you get locked out of your dorm. Has a moped but barely uses it.

Nami's bag is a large Prada Gallaria Saffiano bag, which I painstaking drew to accuracy down to the colour even though it still looks ever so slightly different, because Nami is a big purse girl. The compass rose necklace was a going away gift from Nojiko when she left for uni. I think her haircut is so cute I love her sm. Don't pay any mind to how fucking disheveled half of their lineart looks next to her pls.

Usopp — Graphic Design major

Not a member of the archery club, but shows up enough he’s in all the team photos. Was originally the designated driver, had a pretty little mini van they called the Merry, had one of those fucking fuzzy dice hanging mirror things in the shape of a sheep’s head. Got in a bad car accident and she got totaled by some jackass in a red Honda Civic. Dating Kaya, who’s a nursing student. They barely see each other because she’s so fucking busy and half the students are convinced the girlfriend Usopp is always talking about and calling is fake. The Strawhats have a dnd campaign that they run every other week, Usopp DM's. On weekends he works at an axe throwing range and holds the record for most bullseyes in a row. They have his picture mounted on the wall.

Usopp's necklace is the old key to the Merry, and he engraved his belt buckle for a project. I cursed his ass with the giant fuck off portfolio bag because those things are so big and unwieldy. The people in his program's studio never clean their paint up properly, that's why he's covered in it. Advocate for the Usopp With Gages™ agenda. God he is such a cutie patootie.

Sanji — Business degree

Literally grew up working in a restaurant, he’s only going to school to get the degree so he can open his own and also because Zeff threated to castrate him if he didn't get a higher education. Cooks basically every single meal for the dorm, since it’s just the Strawhats (it's a new (old it's old and was refurbished. Everyone assumed it was haunted.) building that they just dedicated to Garp. Has no other residents yet). Him and Zoro fight so much in their shared room half the time he ends up kicking him out and making him sleep in the community room lmao. He just shows up in half the culinary classes because he hates the business ones so much, the one time someone tried to tell him to leave he cussed them out for a full ten minutes while gesticulating wildly with a knife in hand. They never tried that again. Saw one of the profs berate a young lady for wearing a dress shirt to class because it’s impractical and proceeded to take that personally. Yeah he wears three piece suits to all his classes, he could still kick you ass in ‘em. Shut up. Volunteers to show around foreign exchange students because he can speak at least 4 foreign languages fluently. Is it to woo pretty French girls with his charm? Wouldn't you like to know.

I could not draw Sanji in a decent pose for the life of me, his ass was just not having it. He's got one of them really nice leather messenger bags with the lined pockets and filigree, he's very proud of it.

Chopper — PreMed

One of the few Strawhats who regularly sees Usopp’s reclusive girlfriend, and is very confused as to why people think she isn’t real. Still a literal child (is 15 still a child? Yeah that's like barely a teenager), a goddamn prodigy and got in with an incredibly good recommendation from the best doctor in the country, who just so happens to be his adoptive mother. He’s literally too cute for anyone to question that, plus he’s the sharpest tack in the damn class. He knocked his front tooth out ages ago (it was an adult tooth) but he's too fucking busy to get an appointment to get it fixed, just adds another layer to his babyface. Nice girls keep asking him if he's here to go see his parents or older siblings, he's endlessly infuriated by it and Sanji is endlessly jealous. Saved Ed from choking to death in a Domino's parking lot the first time they met, he dropped his pizza doing it so they bought him another. The rest is history. Does not feel cold, wears chunky boots year round. Got them reflective ass eyes like a deer, no one has ever taken a good picture of this child. He looks fucking possessed in his school ID.

TELL ME WHY I ALMOST FORGOT TO DRAW CHOPPER. I finished drawing Franky and was like "gee, only Brook and Jimbei to go! Good for me," and then I had to pause while looking as the picture of the group I was semi-referencing for heights n shit and was like "OH FUCK THE CHILD—" He's so cute tho. He's giving lil baby Goro Akechi. The argyle sweater vest and Timbs were a must, so was his hockey boy haircut. Matching backpack and tie for the win. Oh and the freckles, Chopper with freckles is everything to me.

Robin — Has a million hyper specific degrees. Currently earning her third doctorate.

Very mysterious and sexy. Mature student who occasionally gives lectures in the archeology program when she has free time. Owns a motorcycle but barely rides it. How is she not in debt after so much schooling? Don't fucking ask if you want to live. Is that why she lives in the dorm building? Do. Not. Ask. She and Luffy attend the same Theology class, no one knows how Luffy is passing with such good grades, but Robin is adamant that he doesn't take notes or borrow hers, and takes to having the same scores as him with grace. Child actor on one of those show like Barney (but not Barney dear lord) or Reading Rainbow and people only knew her as 'that kid with the creepy fuckin stare.' She was a meme a few years back, they called her the devil child. Every time someone asks her about it she just says she has no idea what they're talking about while giving them the creepy stare.

Women with Big Bags truther, right here. Robin deserves to be put in a suit. Goddamnit, get that woman in a suit!

Franky — Has a bachelors of Engineering, a bachelors of Architecture, and is earning his (water specific) Architecture degree

Currently the groups designated driver (after the tragic death of the poor Merry) with his supped up SUV, the Sunny. How do all the Strawhats fit inside? The power of love, obviously. That car will NOT fucking move if even one of the seatbelts is undone. Made Ed and Luffy wedding rings after he found out they accidentally got married. (Only after laughing for a half our straight, almost passing out, and laughing again. Then he cried for another hour about how beautiful it was.) He sometimes works as a nude model for life drawing classes on campus. Half of the the Strawhats have, in one way or another, seen him in the buck. Has knee braces from an... incident... with a train when he was younger. Now he volunteers at KidsAbility and has a shift on the campus crisis/suicide hotline. Huge advocate for mental health services at the school. He lives in the dorms for the ✨experience✨. Even worse than Luffy, mf wears booty shorts in the dead of winter. He's constantly dressed like It's laundry day. One of those guys from a famous Vine when he was younger that just gets stopped while he's walking so people can go "TRAMPOLINE VASE GUY??" (Iceberg was recording. I love Iceberg.)

Yes Franky is wearing an I ♥ MILFs shirt, what of it? It was a gift. Drawing him was an exercise in struggling with the pompadour and getting uncomfortably close to drawing Syndrome. Yes, he's cold all the time. No, he will not stop.

Brook — Literally no one knows. Something music related probably.

Fucker has been around forever, there’s old ass profs who swear to god they went to school with him and he hasn’t aged a day. Regularly plays local bars and cafes. Doesn't own a cellphone, he can literally only operate rotary phones. Computers confuse the shit out of him. Knows nothing about pop culture or recent events, but is up to date on everything in the music industry. He sometimes helps organize the old library archives because he's somehow the only person who understands the system they're organized in. Sometimes he'll just namedrop a famous singer/band he's either played with, done karaoke with, or done background vocals/instrumentals for and you have to guess whether he's telling the truth or just saying shit. There's a campus wide betting pool (run by Nami and Ed, go figure) on whether he's a vampire, ghost, time traveler, or Dorian Gray in disguise. Prepares the questions for 70s night pub trivia. Every time the Strawhats plan a ghost hunt he's busy, then at the end they find out that all the paranormal shit they've been experiencing is just him running his errands. It's happened at least four times.

Is Brook off-putting enough? I was trying to make him off-putting. He swears up and down the neck tattoo was gotten on a dare by Elton John, what, you gonna question a man who looks like he stepped out of Coraline? The skeleton gloves were a gift from Ed.

Jimbei — Has already graduated as a Marine Biology major Political Science minor and is taking both a Gender Studies course and a Peace and Conflict Studies course years later.

Teaches martial arts at a local dojo on weekends and volunteers with the martial arts team on campus. Robin helps him organize protests on weekends. He's good buds with a lot of the faculty and gets invited to after work drinks regularly. He helped establish a program that walks people who stay late at the library to their dorms when he was first a student that's still going strong to this day. Lives off campus and has the Strawhats over for BBQ on long weekends. Literally the only time the Strawhats eat food not made by Sanji. The Grill Master™. Somehow holds some kind of record or high score at every single bar/pub in town. Knows every single mailman and janitor by name. MVP of the catch and release fishing club, helps plan all of their trips.

I struggled with him. I struggled hard. That's a man who went his whole childhood with a horrendous underbite and only got it fixed once he was an adult. Ed gave him the fishing lure earrings out of guilt after he brought them on one of his fishing trips and they fell in and nearly capsized their boat. IT'S A REUSED PLASTIC BAG JIMBEI IS RESPONSIBLE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT—

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