#i woke up in the middle of the night possessed by the need to write this and now it's back to bed for me!!

[timperi-fan]

"Are you alright?"

A calm voice broke through Timmy's panic, and he blinked. He always thought that if he ever found himself being mugged or attacked, he would stay calm and handle himself with dignity.

Instead, when his walk home from his shitty fast food job had been interrupted by a knife pointed at his face, Timmy had froze.

He still felt frozen now, sitting on the asphalt (when had he gotten on the ground?) with the night chill biting into his palms and leaking through his jeans. His heart was still slamming in his chest, even though the threat was gone.

The threat was gone?

The figure standing over him moved, and Timmy flinched. His wide eyes darted up, absorbing the stranger's concerned gaze and his mask and God, that was so much purple—

"Hey, hey, it's okay... You're in shock," the masked man said gently, like he was trying to settle a spooked animal.

Timmy worked his jaw a couple of times. He swallowed; squinted up at the man. "...Sídhe?"

It was. Sídhe — Dimmsdale's resident superhero — stood over Timmy, bending over to be closer to his height. The wings on his back cast scattered light over Timmy's prone form. The sound of his name made the hero grin in relief.

"You're okay. I'm so glad." He offered Timmy his hand. "Can you stand?"

Timmy nodded. He still felt shaky, but he was calming down some, now. He took Sídhe's hand on autopilot, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

He always thought that Sídhe would be taller in person, but the TV had a way of making things seem bigger than reality. He never thought he would be meeting Sídhe in person at all.

"It's a good thing that I was doing a late patrol today — I saw that man try to mug you," Sídhe explained, his voice tight with fury. Despite that, his grip on Timmy's hand remained gentle. "Are you injured at all?"

Somehow, Timmy found it within himself to shake his head. "No, I'm— I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just tired."

Sídhe leaned in. His other hand settled on Timmy's cheek, and he had the ludicrous thought that he was about to be kissed. Instead, Sídhe swiped his thumb over Timmy's cheek. His hand came away with blood on it.

It almost seemed like Sídhe's golden pupils flaired brighter still. "You're hurt."

Timmy reached out and caught Sídhe's hand. "It's just a cut. I..." He struggled to speak evenly. "I just want to go home. Really."

They stood still like that for a moment more. Sídhe's inhuman eyes scanned his face, like he was peeling away Timmy's skin to gaze at his soul. Could he do that? Maybe. He was magic, right?

Timmy was a little surprised to find that he wasn't bothered. He felt at ease around Sídhe.

Their hands were still entwined. He didn't feel any desire to change that.

Finally, Sídhe nodded. "I'll walk you home," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.

Timmy wouldn't have refuted even if it was.

He turned and started walking.

In his mind, Timmy always thought that if he did get to meet Sídhe, for whatever reason, he would ask a bunch of questions that he wanted to know the answer to. Like, where did he get his powers from? Why did he choose to be a hero? Were his wings as delicate as they looked? Was he born with them?

Was being a superhero lonely?

Instead, they walked in silence. Timmy stole glances at Sídhe as they walked, just to ensure that he wasn't dreaming. His wings were iridescent and looked as thin as air, like the details were spun from spider's silk and would fall apart at a touch. His clothing choice didn't seem to include any armor — Sídhe was dressed in flowing, loose fabric. The effect was that he looked ephemeral. Timmy kept thinking that he was going to blink and Sídhe would be gone.

For some reason, he stayed. He stayed all the way down the street, to Timmy's shitty little apartment just two blocks from his college campus.

"This is my stop," Timmy said.

Sídhe glanced appraisingly at the run-down brick building. "Are you safe here?" He asked.

"Uh." Timmy wasn't sure how to answer that. He wasn't sure why Sídhe cared. He shrugged one shoulder. "More or less."

Sídhe hummed. He set a hand on Timmy's shoulder, leaning in — so close that their breaths mingled and Timmy could count the flecks of gold burning in his irises.

This time, the last thing that Timmy expected was to be kissed. And that was exactly what Sídhe did.

His lips brushed the cut on Timmy's cheek, and it felt like time stopped. Timmy's fingers curled, clenching around nothing. He wanted time to freeze again; wanted this moment to last just a little bit longer.

Instead, Sídhe pulled back. The corner of his mouth was quirked up in a smile. "I have healing magic," he said by way of an explanation. Timmy could feel the place where he'd kissed tingling but, honestly, it would have felt that way even without magic.

"T-Thanks," Timmy managed. He cleared his throat. "I really, um, appreciate you, helping me out and walking me home... You didn't have to do all of that," he said awkwardly.

It was easier to make conversation when he'd been frozen. Now that he was thawed, all Timmy could focus on was the way that Sídhe's purple curls were hanging in front of his eyes, just begging to be brushed away from his face.

"Of course I didn't 'have to.' I wanted to," Sídhe said warmly. And he smiled, like there was no where in the world he'd rather be than on Timmy Turner's doorstep, with blood on his glove and fondness in his eyes. "Get some sleep, Timmy."

His wings fluttered as Sídhe became airborne. Timmy watched, amazed that something so pretty was actually functional. He wanted to memorize those swooping swirls and careful curves. He wanted to duck his head along Sídhe's bare back, lips brushing down his spine, while his fingers traced the patterns on his wings from memory.

Instead, Timmy stood there like an idiot, staring at the night sky until long after Sídhe was out of sight.

His cut had been healed, but his cheek still burned.

All Timmy could think was that he wanted Sídhe to stare at him like that again — like he was the most important thing in the universe.

(It didn't occur to him until the next morning that he had never told Sídhe his name.)

[selene-writes]

You-Me-Us

AHHHH Hey guys! There's lots of Logan craze on here thought I would try writing. Should this be a series? Its short and there's lot of places to go from here.

You had known Logan for fifteen years—technically, that had been your entire life, or at least as much of it as you could remember. Your earliest memory was of his face peering down at you with a mixture of concern and relief. You were in some sort of ruined laboratory, your body aching with a pain you couldn’t fully comprehend. You didn’t even know your own name at the time. Instead, you went by Artemis, a name you had chosen for yourself, though Logan often called you "bub."

Like Logan, you were a mutant, endowed with the gift of regeneration. This ability made it impossible to determine your exact age. In addition to your regenerative powers, you possessed the unique ability to manipulate atoms. This rare skill granted you control over all elements, a power that made you incredibly unique and powerful.

You had both decided to stick together, united in your quest to uncover the truth about who you were and why you had ended up there. It was evident that something significant had happened to both of you, something that had rendered you both invincible. Despite the mysteries that surrounded your origins, the bond between you and Logan only grew throughout time.

As time passed, the nature of your relationship evolved in ways neither of you had anticipated. Somehow, amidst the chaos and the search for answers, you had found yourselves tumbling into bed with each other. While the physical connection had become a part of your lives, nothing had fundamentally changed, and you never talked about it.

Even as you navigated your complicated relationship, your focus remained on the shared mission: to piece together the truth about your past and understand the full extent of your powers. 

Everything happened so quickly. You and Logan were in the middle of your usual routine—hitting various bars and grifting people for money. It was a familiar pattern, one that had become almost comforting in its predictability. But that night, things took an unexpected turn.

A teenager—no older than seventeen—had sneaked into the back of your car. Her name was Rogue, and despite your initial reluctance, you and Logan ended up arguing about what to do with her. Logan, ever the soft-hearted one despite his gruff exterior, eventually agreed to give her a ride, though it was clear he would have done so regardless of your persuasion.

The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Out of nowhere—a caveman-like brute—attacked you. Logan was momentarily knocked out in the chaos, leaving you and Rogue vulnerable. The man’s strength was overwhelming, and before you could react, he hurled you against a tree. The impact was brutal, and you felt a jarring “crack” as your head struck the trunk.

You crumpled to the ground, falling into the snow. As the world around you dimmed, the last thing you saw was the silhouettes of the figures moving closer, their shapes growing more defined against the stark whiteness of the snow.

You woke with a groan, sitting up abruptly as if propelled by instinct. Your body felt as good as new, fully healed from the earlier impact. Instinctively, you scanned your surroundings, your mind racing with concern for Logan and his whereabouts.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you noticed a bald man sitting in a wheelchair across the room. Despite his lack of visible movement, his voice seemed to come from all around you, resonating in your mind as much as your ears.

“There is no need to panic,” he said, his lips remaining still, not in sync with his words.

You tensed, on high alert. “How are you doing that?” you demanded, your voice edged with suspicion.

The bald man responded aloud this time, “How do we do anything? We’re mutants.”

Your frustration boiled over. “Where am I? Where is Logan?”

The man’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “He is safe… you both are.” He began to wheel closer; his movements deliberate and smooth. “As for where you are… You are at my academy, where we help those like you. You are with… the X-Men.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hii I just discovered your blog through your Sleep Token writings and I just have to say they’re really good!!! I love the way you write the boys especially iv in His Mark. I love when boys are like ‘quietly possessive’ I think it’s cute af.

Sooo which got me thinking about how the other 3 would mark the person they’re interested in/have a crush on..?

Their necklaces? Gift one of their Rings? Secret little gifts? Go slightly stalker mode? Idk but anyway would love to hear and read your writings and thoughts💕

Thank you for reading and being so sweet. I loved writing this🤍✨

Vessel

As I said, he is a quiet type of possessive in my eyes. His whole persona screams that he doesn’t need words if he wants to be intimidating. And while he’s calm about you interacting with other people for the most part, the moment he changes his mind or has enough with someone trying to shoot their shot with you, he is up and slowly walking your way.

His claim on you is in form of lovebites. Try to convince me that the boy is not into biting. That’s part of his love language. So a bruise on your neck or collarbones keeps all the lurkers away. He gets more creative in places that others might not get to see. But I wholeheartedly believe that he’s out there creating love hearts from his kisses on your thighs. Your skin is a canvas for him.

But he’s also pretty touch-starved so if there’s only the closest people on the team there he is holding your hand. Through it all. No matter what he is doing his palm is extended towards you and he won’t be settling until you either wrap your hand around his finger - that would make the wires in his brain spark - or just feel your much smaller hand pressed against his palm. So by all means most people would be more than aware that you’re his and his only.

III

Our little firecracker. He is a lot more expressive with his emotions so if this man feels like someone is getting a bit too close to ya, I would suggest that person looks over his shoulder for a day or two. All 6’4 of him that’s my lucky guess on his height would love it when you wore his clothes and found ways to incorporate something that is his into your outfit

A shirt of his you liked when you were on a date? Say no more. You would find it casually left in a place you would no doubt see it. Still smelling of him. A new hoodie the band was working on putting out? “Model it, baby, it looks better on you regardless”.

And now I imagine how he would halt when he saw you in his clothes for the very first time and how this need to see you in them was fueled. He’s trying to make breakfast. Simple pancakes that he had googled a recipe for. Part of him wants to make it special somehow cause it’s the first night that you have stayed over. He doesn’t hear you walking downstairs because he’s too focused on the amount of flowers he needs to use and the chunks that are forming. It is the light chuckle that slips past your lips that has him nearly throwing the spatula your way.

And then his whole body freezes, face going blank as he drinks in the sight of you. “I can change, I just didn’t find any of my clothes”, a light panic sets into you, not wanting to cross boundaries there might be. But III is quick to put everything that he’s holding and within a heartbeat, one of his arms is sneaking over your middle as he swiftly lifts you. You let out a surprised scream as he effortlessly places you on the counter. The biggest grin on his face.

“Do you know how good you look?”, his arms are on either side of you as he leans forward. “iii, I just woke up… my hair…”, you giggle but he cuts you off with a shake of his head, “Is perfect, you are perfect”, he leans in brushing his lips over yours, “Especially in my clothes, fuck me”, his hands move to run beneath the hem of the shirt, massaging your hips with slow circles.

II

He will forever be a secret to me. There’s something so mysterious about him. At times I feel like my INFJ ass can see right through him but then I’m like maybe I am so wrong. 😂

I feel like in a similar way to Vess, he doesn’t go around throwing punches if someone is standing too close to you for his liking. Cause similar to Vess there’s that sense of threat in someone’s silence. He’s a lot more private about his personal life even with people he loves and his affectionate side only comes out behind closed doors.

So if he wanted to mark you it would probably be something small. He wouldn’t go all flashy. Maybe a necklace he wears for most of the shows. Or a little II pendant on a chain. *cue TS I want to wear his initials on the chain around my neck* type of shit. He would love it too. Pulling at the chain ever so slightly when he wants to kiss you. Or simply when he needs a distraction. Slowly calming his racing mind.

I think it’s with quality time and gestures of love that he would show just how much he cares. So if you need a way to calm yourself his shirt is off, he’s laying on his stomach and you sit there, straddling his lower back as you color in his tattoos. He doesn’t let anyone touch them except you. And even if the pattern stays the same he still enjoys seeing the different color combinations you come up with. His little artist.

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks blushed when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir”, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

[stannienight]

Hi, I hope you are well 💗

I was wondering if you could do Saiki K x reader, where reader and Saiki are best friends (and he secretly has a crush on them) and reader just got out of a bad relationship and thinks nobody will ever love them again, so Saiki tries to help them feel better and hint that he likes them ?

☮️&❤️

let me tell you, i love this ask sm. it has so much potential. for now i just spewed out whatever i could but this is such a lovely trope, especially for someone like saiki

❤

saiki k x best friend reader (after your breakup)

- okay listen. saiki is bad at being subtle. especially when you're so oblivious. it just leads to So Much Chaos

- the fact that you just got out of a relationship makes it hard to pick up hints okay - anyways, saiki isn't focused on getting you to like him or anything. his "hints" just happen to slip out - but it's not just that, right? you're also best friends. SARCASTIC best friends. combine that with your self-deprecation and saiki's inability to handle romance and there's a disaster waiting to happen - you: ugh what if no one ever loves me for who i am? saiki: am i a joke to you? you: yeah saiki: fair enough - you: i hate my ex. i'm going to devote myself to making him regret this saiki: didn't you waste enough time in the relationship? you, now woke: holy shit you're right - you: saiki help me glow up saiki: there is literally nothing i can improve you: IS THAT A DISS? saiki: - he helps you through the breakup, too. in true best-friend fashion, when you call him in the middle of the night with the news, he's in your room within a second. he brings ice cream, a blanket, and for some reason, a cat. you don't even know where he got it from. but you needed it - for the next few days he buys you gifts (which you keep telling him you don't need) but he wants to remind you that even he can do the job of being a boyfriend better than your ex - all your mutual friends are like, how oblivious can she get? and since when is saiki so bold? - saiki has no idea this is a romantic thing to do. "i'm just proving anyone can be better than he was wdym it's just a statistical thing?" - your friends find this whole dynamic hilarious- chiyo especially, the romance fanatic, who has never seen saiki exhibit any emotion - every time you spend time with saiki, kaidou and aren pointedly leave you two alone (dragging a nendo as oblivious as you along with them) whispering and giggling. you're so confused but not complaining - honestly, half the school already thinks you're dating? everyone except the two of you has just accepted it as a fact that you're a thing - dude: so saiki, how's your girlfriend saiki: what girlfriend dude: y/n? saiki: she's not my girlfriend dude: oh really? then maybe i can try confessing to her- saiki: dude: why am i in florida? - yeah okay he's just the tiniest bit possessive since the breakup okay? he doesn't want you getting hurt again - and don't worry he brought the guy back from florida ❤ i had so much fun writing this ong i canNOT imagine saiki being subtle at all or even understanding the line between close friendship and romance. it's all so objective to him and my guy's probably so confused send me asks for hcs, oneshots, or anything in general, even if it’s unrelated to anime or writing! saiki k and haikyu for requests but maybe go through my profile before requesting for haikyu <3

[riddles-fiddles]

The pregnancy scenario is so gorgeous, I love!! And perfect timing, I literally had a dream the night before about having a kid with Leona and Idia (two different dream timelines of the same scenario converging later as a kind of after party). I thought you might get a kick out of my brain’s toy box nonsense :3

The Leona timeline was very sweet, him comforting me after someone attempted to kill me for imperfect human genetics, and then getting me pregnant to spite the killer. Idia was too nervous to kiss me to wake me up from a Maleficent curse sleep. He eventually woke me up and we then had a kid who I think was called Scoot? Started with an S and had a double O in the middle.

At the after party scene, both the kids looked like the Tsums of the father, since my brain struggles to render babies in sleep XD But the fathers were both thrilled and proceeded to show them off to everyone around them!

Honestly this is so cute anon!!! You're making me want to write more domestic scenarios with the boys,,,

Leona knocking you up in spite from the killer is so him lmao but ohhhhh think if the killer was hired by his parents to erase you out of his life. Just makes Leona more possessive of you, so when you finally grow a bump visible enough he'll be walking around with his hands always somewhere on your body, making sure to let everyone know you are his most perfect human mate (and he'll personally throw hands at anyone who even dares look at you with any hint of disgust or mockery). When the baby arrives, Leona is so lively - his lazy demeanor never truly leaves his soul, but at least now he has one motivation to get up from bed and slack off - especially if it's a girl! I can totally see him being such an endearing girldad, the type to make feminine voices when playing house and always getting so invested when throwing fake tea parties, also gets his daughter the biggest unicorn on the fair, no matter if he needs to go through some ridiculous game. Either be it a girl or a boy, Leona's favourite thing to do is go to small walks with his baby on his shoulders, squealing in excitement from all the stimuli around them, teaching them about everyday things like what is a butterfly, why birds chirp, and so on. You could say your child really did bring a light to Leona's life.

Idia... he wants to give the baby an unique name, or something regarding the online games or otaku media he consumes, but all you need to do is bat your eyelashes and hold his hand in a death gentle grip to sort his mind out of this idea. Idia's very nervous and overly cautious around the baby, always, and easily freaks out from the smallest ractions - when the baby sneezes, when they cough, even innocent, bright squeals sends him spiraling into an anxious coma. He's horrified of the idea of accidentally dropping his own child or just hurting them in some way, so he's always with a firm grip around the head and body, sustaining them even with trembling hands. He's very dedicated though, so Idia is always close to them, literally. He'll have the baby secured against his chest in a baby carrier while gaming, sometimes making effect sounds to amuse them; you know they truly are Idia's child from the way they look so enthralled to the screen, curious eyes scanning every move, every change of scenario like they're actually understanding something. He finds it annoying to go out in public with them though! His child is just so freaking cute with their cheeks so rosy and squeezable every stranger wants to talk and cuddle them, making Idia feel proud and at the same time mortified, fighting the urge to just turn heels and run back home as fast as possible. Idia doesn't care what gender his child is, but you can be sure he'll want to dress them in gamer onesies and clothing. 'Player three' and 'level 1 human' kinda shit, you know? But he will neeeeever admit he's doing it because he secretly finds it cute; god forbid Idia Shroud enjoying something so normie. Cringe.

[sapphiewritesstuff]

Okay but like....

Imagine Namor just waking you up in the middle of the night with gentle licks of his tongue on your private parts just because he woke up and felt horny. The way that he would be so skillful and gentle yet firm with his tongue... Jeeeesuuus, my mind is running rampant right now, Dios mío... And just as you are about to finish, he would just pull away and smirk, asking teasingly if you really want it. Make you beg for release... And after he would make you cum, either with his hand or mouth, he would lick you all up squeaky clean and then just come up your body, lick and kiss all of you, leaving hickeys all over you. Then he would kiss you deeply and passionately and you just start feeling him humping and thrusting against your thigh... Slowly he would get rid of his (shame) shorts and slide his dick up and down against your wet, from his previous assault on it, hole and slide right in. Stopping for a second to let out a shaky breath with a slight moan. He would start thrusting slowly at first, feeling you squeeze him so tight that he had to physically stop, his hands almost giving out under him and letting out the filthiest moan ever known to mankind. You wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him into a "hot mess" kiss. He would start thrusting again, speeding up a bit, biting hickeys into your neck. He would play with your nipples, twisting them, giving them an experimental lick, tugging on them. The he would speed up even more, giving in a bit more strength into it too. Hearing your moans, whimpers and shaky breaths, he put one of his hands to use where you needed him, doing the best he could to pleasure you the way you deserve. Feeling you coming close to your climax, he would start thrusting into you as fast as he possibly could putting more strength into the thrusts, hitting your sweet, sweet spot with every thrust. When you would finally come with the loudest moan he had heard yet, he wouldn't stop thrusting, prolonging your climax and also throwing you into a spiral with an even more intense third orgasm of your nightly love-making. After he would finally see that you can't physically go any further and would not be able to come again or you would pass out, he finally would let himself go, planting his seed inside of you as deep as it's physically possible, groaning and moaning into your ear after he bent down with the force of his own orgasm, putting his weight onto your still shivering body but tyring not to squash you. Still not pulling out, placing, gentle as a butterfly, kisses along your neck, then your jaw, chin, both of your cheeks, temples, forehead, nose, your still closed with bliss eyelids and finally -your lips. Gentle as he could be, but still passionate, full of love that he has for you. Then finally pulling out of you, getting the weight of his body off of yours and putting it down on the bed next to you. Pulling you into himself, placing the covers back onto your bodies and wrapping his arms tightly around you as if to protect you from the cruel world. He would kiss your head lovingly and listen to your steady and heavy breathing as you finally fall asleep, once again, just to soon follow into your steps.

Just imagine 🥴 Also sorry for any errors in language, grammar and all that stuff if there are any since English isn't my first language 😅 I just had to get it out from my head and I saw your post and just had to share it with you and anyone that would read it 😂 I also wrote it especially as gender neutral as I could and could think off so absolutely anyone can just imagine themselves in this situation 😊 Hope you liked it and that I put some ideas into your mind that you might like 😉 Have a great day/night! ❤️

MY LORDDDD

dear lord I wanna write something for this but I just?? I’m so down bad for this man

Namor definitely has a thing for marking you up like this man is TERRITORIAL and POSSESSIVE let’s get one thing clear. Ohh and he would be sooo good with his hands too?? He’s such a good lover I’m

[lucimarinee]

Pushover | dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Summary: God knows you were born either with a spine made out of bubble wrap, or just spineless entirely, it's honestly kind of sad. It bothers you, of course, how everyone else seems to know that too. Quiet, pliable and unconfrontational, you were raised to occupy the least amount of space possible, and be out of the way most, if not all, of the time, and that's not really the recipe for an assertive, self-assured woman, now, is it? No, it's not, and you are painfully aware of that. And you become even more aware of that when you go back to Texas to visit your estranged dad, on your summer break from a college course you don't really want to pursue, to spend what was supposed to be a time of relaxation surrounded by people that seem to think it's funny to push your buttons, it annoys you to no end. But no one seems to get on your nerves more than that asshole your father calls his "best friend", Joel Miller, one of those old school kinds of men who have an irreverent attitude, a bite to their sense of humor, perceptive eyes, an unwavering voice to declare his will, and a penchant for provoking you.

Warnings: NO OUTBREAK, age gap (Joel is in his late-forties/early-fifties, reader is in her early twenties), praise kink, annoyance as foreplay /hj, fingering.

Word Count: 14,756

a/n: this was posted on ao3 first, you can find it here, but I thought that I should use my Tumblr too. This one-shot has a funny story, that being I woke up in the dead of night to write it because I "dreamed about it" when I was half asleep, I like to joke that I was possessed, I didn't stop writing until it was posted. Anyway, my first Tumblr post in this style, I hope you enjoy it :).

__________________________________________________________

You had a feeling the day was going to go badly, or at least less than ideal, but it's getting a bit too much, now.

It was just a combination of small things piling up on you.

It started in your plane, you had just boarded, barely even sat down, and a woman approached you with an attitude that reeked of veiled aggressiveness, asking you if "you'd be so kind to change seats" with her, so she could sit next to her husband. Unsure if it was the pressure of her gaze on you, or just the fact you're not very good at saying "no" , you obliged, moving from your nice window seat at the front of the plane — that you chose and paid for specifically —, to a middle seat further back.

No big deal, you thought, it was just a couple wanting to sit together, sure, they should have planned their trip better and booked their seats properly, like you did, but it would be, at the very least, unpolite if you said no. What reason did you have to deny her request, after all? "No, ma'am, I paid for this seat, I'd like to stay here" ? Sounds selfish, and you're not selfish.

Of course, the change to an uncomfortable seat, squished between two strangers, made the trip a lot longer, but eventually you landed, and it was all over. Until you heard there was a mishap with the luggage, so your baggage would be delayed, making you have to wait for God knows how long for the airline to get their shit together. Still, you sighed and nodded, there was no need to complain and go on a tirade about costumer's rights, gross neglect and incompetence on the part of the company, there were people doing that already, so you didn't have to join the misery party, you just had to wait.

You were tired, hungry, sore, and just wanted to rest, let this day be over. You just got back home — well, "home" — for summer break.

Coming back to Texas on any circumstance was a fucking chore, and it didn't help you felt obligated to, either. You were just fine out of state, as fine as you can be while pursuing a degree you didn't want, putting effort and energy on a thing your heart wasn't set on, but at least you were some place else , some place other than Austin, where you could let yourself be a little more. You were planning on going on a trip to somewhere nice, you had been saving a bit of money from your internship and side gigs with the intent of treating yourself — for once —, but your father had other plans.

He got in touch with you a few months ago, going on a rant about how you don't call or get in touch at all anymore, how you've been growing distant ever since you moved out to study, forgetting that you had a father that did everything for you, gave everything to you, that it was an ungrateful look, and how it didn't suit you.

It was his own special way of saying he missed you, and wanted you to visit.

Easy to say, you thought it was best to smooth out the situation and appease him by promising to come back on summer break, basically ruining your own plans because daddy sent you a strong worded text.

What a joke, you don't want to be there.

Another sigh leaves you, this one slightly more exasperated than the last. You hate that weather, you can feel that awful hot, humid air even when surrounded by the airport's heavy-duty air conditioning, the uncovered skin of your arms feels chilly, but it's like an uncomfortable, stuffy bubble of hot air hugs you without your permission, the phantom feeling of it makes you feel like a kid again, and you don't like it.

Some more minutes pass by, you sit down on a chair with a cold backrest after having filled a form at the airline's desk and leave it at that, swallowing back your annoyance and hoping for the best, and the best case scenario was just that your bag was misplaced in another flight, and would be hopefully arriving soon, worst case scenario, they lost the damn thing, and then — just then — it would be time to get openly upset.

But you hope it won't come to that.

"Hey." a gravely voice calls loud and clear beside you, "I thought I recognized ya."

You turn to look, and have to make a physical effort not to groan and keep yourself from making a face. God fucking damn it, it's Joel fucking Miller. He looks just like you remember him from, you don't know, a couple of years ago, from the last time you dropped by on vacation, the same rugged appearance, rough around the edges, with that same annoying, rustic charm, a bit different, though.

His hair was a bit longer, the few gray hairs you remember had grown into proper gray locks, sprinkling his head here and there, same with the beard, fuller, grayer, but somehow softer looking. But that was it for the differences, he still had the same direct and piercing eyes, like he had an aim that never missed its target, and, much to your chagrin, that same infuriating grin that you never quite understood what it meant, despite him always having it on his lips every time you were around.

"Hi." you say, getting up from your seat just out of politeness, you weren't on a hug or even a handshake basis, so you just stood there, awkwardly, stuffing your hands in your pockets like you had no idea what to do with them, "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, doll." he huffed a little chuckle, and had it been any other person, you would have blushed a few shades redder than his flannel shirt and apologized for your lack of respect, but it was just Joel, he seemed to enjoy being aggravating like that with you, "It's been a while hasn't it? What? Couple o' years?"

Fair enough, you muster a small diplomatic smile and nod, he's right, it had been a hot minute, but if it were up to you, it would have been even longer. Joel wore a pair of jeans and a flannel that you swear you've seen him wear before, it rings so familiar in your head, like the world's most irritating alarm clock, he's a physical, walking reminder that you're back in Texas, because he's always around you whenever you're there, courtesy of your father.

The two of them are friends, and have been for the longest time, ever since you were a tween, not that you can understand why, exactly, and for once it wasn't Joel's fault, it was your father's. It just didn't make sense that your father had friends, let alone in someone like Joel, you couldn't understand for the life of you what they had in common, and how the fuck did they meet and bond. Maybe you just didn't think of your father as someone pleasant enough to befriend or keep company, in fact, you sure don't, that's why you've been avoiding coming back for as long as you did.

But he's older, so is your dad, and maybe that's why the two of them clicked, and started doing whatever they do when they're together, you're sure they must have gone out to a bar and done things old men do.

"Yeah, it really has, huh?" you say back, looking to the side, as if it was embarrassing to even make eye contact for longer than a few seconds, "It's good to see you, though, Mr. Miller."

"Mm, don't you start with the mister thing." he raised an eyebrow, still looking at you, it made your neck burn, you weren't sure why, maybe just out of awkwardness, you never really knew how to act around him, especially not alone, and he always had such an intense stare, "Makes me sound old."

"Okay then, Mr. Miller." you can't help a little, shy grin, the kind that doesn't last for long.

He looked a bit amused, if anything, not in the same way he had back when you were in high school, it wasn't so much as the cockiness that seemed to radiate off him, he just seemed genuinely impressed with you, like he figured your insistence on being respectful to your elders was your own little way of standing up for yourself, and he didn't seem to want to fight that.

"As for your question," he continues, ignoring your teasing, "I spoke to your old man earlier, he said you'd be arriving today, but that something came up at his work, and he wouldn't be able to come and pick you up, so I offered myself to fetch ya, seemed rude to let you get a taxi or something after coming home after so long, figured I'd come to give ya a proper Texan welcome."

Oh.

He must have noticed your change in expression, your polite smile faltered to give place to a confused, if not hurt, grimace, his face mimicked yours in an involuntary display of empathy, you see his strong brows knitting together like he's trying to read you and figure out what was wrong, and how to fix it.

"Oh, I..." you hesitate, you're thinking lots of things, all of a sudden, but you've always struggled to put your feelings and thoughts into words, "Sorry, I... I'm just a bit surprised. He didn't tell me anything about being held back."

You feel stupid, hadn't Joel come up to the airport and found you, you'd have been waiting for your father to show up until you realized he wouldn't come. You pick up your phone from your back pocket to check if maybe you missed a text or a phone call, but no, there was nothing, the last thing you heard from your dad was him reacting to your text telling him your flight was taking off, and at what time it was supposed to arrive, with a thumbs up.

Nothing more.

You just sigh, yet again, you had an inkling feeling this vacation wasn't going to go smoothly, but this was just the cherry on top. Joel is quiet, letting you have a moment of peace to process, but he's staring, again, he doesn't even try to hide it, his eyes, a nice shade of brown, not unlike caramel, are softer than the rough exterior he keeps up, he seems sympathetic.

"It must've slipped his mind," Joel says with a shrug of his shoulder, not dismissive, just trying to soften the situation, make you feel less bad about it, not that you really cared at that point, this was just another instance of him not showing up in twenty-something years, "You know how he can be sometimes, hardworking fella, just focused on his job and doesn't think of anything else."

He's not wrong, but you'd still think a simple text wouldn't have hurt to send. You want to be angry, at the very least a bit miffed, but you can't muster that, instead, it's just resignation and frustration that makes you feel heavy and tired, it's hard to be mad, for some reason. You never had much practice.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." you force yourself to say, even if it sounds halfhearted and a little defeated.

"You don't sound very thrilled." he snorts a little, it sounds playful, he's not being rude, just lightheartedly ribbing you.

"Sorry, I just, uhm..." you swallow and bite down a sigh, you know exactly what's going on, he doesn't need to know, "It's fine."

You weren't about to get emotional over being slighted by your own dad in front of Joel, even if you're pretty sure he was fully aware of the dynamic between the two of you.

"Well, I'm here." the man declared, his voice always had this very firm tone of finality, you figure it's probably impossible to argue with Joel, "And I'm gonna get you home all the same, ya can talk to him then. Ready to go? Didn't bring any bags?"

It takes you an embarrassing long second to figure out what he's doing, hands on his hips, looking at and around your figure for any luggage, when he doesn't see it, he quirks a brow.

"Oh, no, I did, it's just..." you start, and you can see very clearly how he takes a long, deep breath, letting his arms go slack on his sides, and you hate when he does that, because he always does it when you let it show that something is wrong, but this time you didn't even get to explain, he must know you quite well at this point, or you just do this a lot, "There was a problem with the luggage transport, it's all been delayed, so I'm waiting on that."

His posture shifts while you speak, Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest, making him look like a solid brick wall, a strong and unyielding presence in front of you, his muscles flex and push against the fabric of the sleeves, and you don't understand why, but your neck starts burning again.

"Shit, you gotta be kiddin' me." his jaw tightens and he closes his eyes, a hand moves up to rub his temple, the wrinkles that formed on his forehead when he grimaced almost seemed to highlight the greying of his hair, he's got a very rugged look to him, but it fits, you can't say it's a bad look, "Well, alright. Have you spoken to anyone 'bout this?"

"Yeah, I filled a form at the desk just a moment ago, they told me to wait." you explain.

"'Kay, but what did they say 'bout compensation? Did they offer you anything? They owe you that, y'know that, right?" Joel goes on, almost talking over you, the man seems to be taking this issue personally, too.

"Yeah, I know that."

His brows shoot up when you don't follow that with anything else, and suddenly, all his indignation seems to turn to you, "You didn't say a thing, did ya?"

You stand there, guilty as charged, pursing your lips in a thin line, because you have nothing to say in your defense, you did mention something about compensation to the guy working at the desk, but he brushed you off with some bullshit about company policy and technicalities, and you just took it like a loser, so you guess that doesn't count.

"Fuckin' Christ, alright." Joel groans, his hand flies from his temple to his forehead, where he rubs the wrinkles in frustration, it makes you feel awful, it's always like this, especially with him, he never really tried to hide that he thinks you don't have a backbone, "I'm gonna go take care o' this. Don't you go anywhere."

"What— no, Joel, wait! " you reach out for his arm, your palm touches hard, solid muscle under the flannel sleeve, and your skin feels like it's being singed even with the protection of the fabric, "Don't make it a big deal, please, they say it must be arriving soon, it's fine—"

"Hey." he interrupts your plea with his own gruff voice, but not unkindly, in fact, you're a little shocked to see how his face is so relaxed, not a trace of anger or annoyance in his features, only calmness, "I got this."

The hand on his sleeve goes slack, but your heart starts beating like crazy once he resumes his march to the airline desk you had pointed to earlier, you trail behind him like a desperate, lost puppy, your nerves firing as you try to figure out a way to avoid a conflict or any amount of confrontation, especially on your behalf, there was no need to make a fuss over you.

It's so easy to feel small next to Joel Miller, he's a whole head, and then some, taller than you, not only is he broad, his gait and demeanor are those of a man who can take whatever the world throws at him and still be standing at the end of the day, it's kind of surprising the attendant didn't burst out laughing when you just stood next to him like an anxious shortstack, while the man comfortably leaned over the counter and spoke in his raspy voice.

He had some things to say about the matter, the two men seem to engage in some back and forth you were barely listening to, Joel would speak in his booming voice and point vaguely at you, his tone was always so resolute and determined, his words were never minced, and he always knew what to say, in a usual day, you'd judge him for being too confrontational, even abrasive, but maybe it was the combination of having him standing up for you without a moment's hesitation and the way his biceps bulged whenever he made an angry gesture or placed his hands on the desk and leaned in, that made that hot bubble of air around you feel even hotter.

"Sir, the last flight just arrived, it's likely that your luggage is on the way, you're free to check—" the man behind the desk says, and you loudly breathe out in relief.

"See, Joel, it's here, let's just grab it and go." you blurt out like your life depends on it, touching his arm again, a physical plea, trying to convince him, you can't tell if it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but the touch actually makes him pause.

"This ain't done." Joel points a finger at the workers, but his body is already turning in your direction, even if his gaze doesn't immediately follow, "But it can wait. Come on, doll, let's see if we can get ya out of this place."

It's embarrassing, it really is, it makes your heart jump to your throat, you feel the burn from earlier crawl all the way to your ears, you want to sink through the ground and disappear. There was no need for this, it was ridiculous and overkill, and it was happening all for your sake.

You don't take another good luck at him until he seats himself behind the wheel of his truck, after finally loading your long awaited suitcase in the back. You're sulking on the passenger's seat, head resting on your palm, elbow on the door, staring out the window, just waiting for him to start the damn thing and drop you off, you're just so, so done with this whole airport saga, it was complete shit, from beginning to end.

While he drives, Joel looks over at you, once, twice, maybe thrice, each time just a beat longer than the last, from your peripheral vision, you catch his jaw tightening up a bit, he seems to be contemplating something, the man knows you're moody, and it isn't like you're hiding your displeased pout, but he also knows that, if he doesn't say anything, you won't either.

"It will get sorted out." he tells you, after a moment of consideration. The man leans back comfortably as a long breath leaves him, not unlike the stress sighs you're always letting out as well, he keeps just one hand low on the wheel, and he's tapping a finger to the rhythm of the music, you have to wonder how much of that he can actually hear.

"It's fine." you say, it's your mantra. It's a half lie, "Those things happen."

"Those things aren't supposed to happen, doll." he makes a point of stressing his words, a low and firm sound coming from deep inside his chest, you see his profile from the side, and you can see him pressing his lips together, the man is probably annoyed at the way you're trying to blow it all off, he doesn't like to see people walk all over you, and he doesn't like that you let them, "There's a reason why there are policies and laws and shit like that, for this exact reason."

The way you just raise your palms in the air in a clear sign of resignation tells him that's a discussion you really don't want to have, you almost expect him to push you further, like he's always done, to probe and poke at you, and lecture you on the importance of standing up for yourself like you are a child, but by then Joel already knows he's preaching to a deaf choir, so he gives it a rest.

"I'm just sayin'..." he trails off, clearing his throat.

Your gaze focus on the scenery passing you by, trees and buildings going by so fast it almost looks like they're flying, the man next to you was always a fast driver, you remember that much from a few other times he took it upon himself to be your chauffeur throughout your life, usually when your father couldn't find the time or patience to do so.

"Thanks, anyway, I mean, for... yeah, thanks." you decide to say, still not looking at him.

You can hear him grin, that's how infuriating it is, "Don't mention it."

You just scoff, a hint of a smile making the corner of your mouth twitch upwards, that was so characteristic of him, so Joel Miller, and so stupid, "Don't act like you did nothing. That was..." you roll your eyes, but you don't notice you're shaking your head, he does, though, and that only serves to amuse him even further, "Something else, man. Thanks for... making that guy shit his pants, I guess."

You snort at your own little joke, he doesn't follow, but doesn't seem displeased, either.

The landscape is so familiar, and his presence is so familiar too, the drive is long and quiet, the kind that gives you space to breathe, but never enough to let your thoughts take a more unpleasant turn.

You try not to think about the way Joel always takes care of you, in his own little way.

"How is dad?" the question falls from your mouth.

Joel turns his head to you with a certain look in his eyes, it's quite meaningful, actually, a whole conversation happens with just the two of you making eye contact, it's silent and intense, you almost feel compelled to avert your eyes and stare at the road in front of you.

He looks like he's holding back a comment.

"Same as usual. Busy, focused." his voice is dry, no emotion to it, it's hard to tell whether he's pleased by this or not, "But we keep in touch."

It's odd that Joel seems to know more about your father's well-being than you do, but he has the decency to not say anything else about the matter, if he didn't already know from his friendship with your dad, your question made it very clear that you two don't talk much, if at all, which made this whole thing even more stupid, because you still went out of your way, postponing and cancelling plans, to accommodate a father that only seemed to get in touch with you to make you feel bad about being a "bad daughter".

"Sarah is excited to see you again," Joel added, trying to change the topic, or let you know that at least one person was actually happy with the prospect of seeing you, "When I told her I was coming to pick you up, she got real hyped about it."

That brings a smile to your face.

Sarah, Joel's daughter, was just a few months older than you, that was something else your dad and Joel had in common, besides being divorced, grumpy men in their fifties, now that you think about it. Growing up, the Millers lived close to your house, close enough for Sarah to become your playmate, you'd drop by with your father to play with her, while the adults did their own thing, and vice versa.

The memory of their house is very vivid, even after not having thought about it for the longest time, you still remember the nice hardwood floors, the narrow staircase, and how on every wall — especially in Sarah's room — there were plenty of pictures of her and her dad, on her soccer practices, after championships, or just pictures they took together for the sake of it, always very happy photos, very lively. Your room never had pictures like that.

Sarah was confident, lively and funny, pretty much everything you weren't, and still aren't, she was always more extroverted than you, carrying your whole friendship almost entirely by herself, you just tagged along, ever the dedicated follower, never the leader, it never bothered her, but it bothered you.

You were never quite able to pinpoint what exactly you felt whenever you looked at the pictures on her walls, or witnessed her and Joel interacting in a lighthearted, playful manner, or even just watched her be, but now, as an adult, you can.

It was bitterness.

You were always a very bitter child, the way she could just smile, joke, talk back at Joel, make fun of him, the way he never failed to be warm, receptive, affectionate, a perfect example of a single father raising a lovely kid on his own, the juxtaposition with your home life, which was, well, less than that, was too much sometimes, the unfairness of it all, the stark, blinding contrast that always made you feel inadequate.

Inadequate, bitter, envious .

Eventually you just stopped showing up to hang out, and you two drifted apart quietly, not unlike you and your father.

You discreetly turn your eyes to the man beside you, watching him silently drive, so relaxed, so confident, his posture said it all. Joel rested a hand on top of the wheel, and his other hand on the seat beside him, not even realizing he's drumming his fingers along the tune, not even knowing his hand was right next to your leg, if he did, would he move it, or just let it stay?

His hands looked very large and firm, his fingers were thick and strong, the back of his hand had some prominent veins that moved with every subtle motion of his arm, and you found yourself wondering about the rest of his body. You're no longer a little girl, but still, there are certain things that are better left unthought about.

"How are things goin' for ya, by the way?" he asks, voice suddenly softer, "In college, and all."

"It's fine."

There he goes again, that same long, deep breath he took at the airport, that same long, deep breath he took every time he clocked you shrugging things off, trying to put no importance into them, the look he gives you along with is loud as words, he knows you too well for you to pull that card on him.

"Don't bullshit me." he deadpans.

You're about to fire back a comment about how it's not a bullshitty thing, college really was fine, you were doing well, passing all your classes, and the courses themselves were fine, nothing to complain about, not even your colleagues or professors, you have nothing bad to say about them, or at least, that's what you like to believe, the same way you like to believe you're doing great on your own, and you like to pretend there's nothing you need or want for.

"I'm not!" you protest, he doesn't buy it, you can tell by his doubtful smirk, "I'm really not, okay? Everything is going well, my classes are good, and so are my grades, the city is pretty nice, and... and... I guess, people are fine too?"

"So what's wrong, then?"

It takes a moment for you to reply.

"I don't really want to be a lawyer, okay?" your voice is low, even shy, you can feel your face getting warmer, it's such a relief to finally tell someone this, and, if not a relief, it feels good to not have it stuck in the back of your head all the time, "I never really did. I'm just... kind of going along with it, dad wants it, and at the end of the day, I don't really mind it."

Joel considers your words carefully.

"You do know," he starts, "That to be a lawyer you'll actually have to stand up to people, for once?"

There it was, the Joel Miller you knew and didn't really like, always prodding, always trying to provoke you, always trying to rile you up, always trying to force you out of your comfort zone, to get a reaction, or at least get you to feel something.

"Oh, fuck off."

You're the one to roll your eyes, you're the one to let out an exaggerated groan, because, sure, that's how things would go with him, every time you decided to let him in and let him have a little look into your world, the world inside your head, the real, raw feelings that lay beneath the surface, and you should know that better than anyone, it's just in his nature, it's not even mean spirited, he's just an asshole.

"Nah, I'm being completely fuckin' serious right now," he says, a hint of a chuckle on his voice, but he really wasn't laughing, and, much like a father who knows exactly what he's talking about, he explains himself, "You'd be swallowed whole in a courtroom, doll, and you know that too."

He has a point, unfortunately.

"I guess. That's the kind of person I am, I suppose."

Joel shakes his head.

"Don't be stupid."

You raise a hand to him, to tell him not to patronize you.

He seems like he wants to keep going, to keep yapping about how your spine has the consistency of wet spaghetti, about how you should grow a pair already and stop acting so fucking scared all the time, that you're always hiding, you're always keeping your mouth shut, that it's not the way, but he bites his tongue and decides against it, opting for a less aggravating follow up, "What would ya like to do, then? If not law."

"I don't know. I like to paint. But I know I'm not good enough."

"Says who? Yourself?" he sounds sarcastic, and that gets you even more flustered and frustrated.

"Yes, I do, because it's true," you explain, you've told this to many other people, so many times, and none of them understood, Joel isn't going to be an exception, "And it doesn't pay really well as a career, like, at all."

"Well, now you just sound like your father."

Your cheeks flush, you can feel your entire face burning now, he has no idea how much of a dickhead he's being. You're starting to regret having told him anything about it.

"Fuck off."

You say it again, in a quiet, unintimidating way. He laughs.

"If you talked to people like you're talkin' to me right now, you'd be an okay lawyer, you know that, right?" his smile is cocky, it's so stupid, but so characteristic of him, to get under your skin like this, he was the only one that could, "Not good, but okay."

"Whatever, Joel. Shut up."

It's hard not to look at the way his neck and shoulders tense when he laughs, you catch yourself looking more than you should, he has the nerve to let his hand move towards you and he pats the top of your knee, he pats your leg twice, slowly and softly.

You surprise yourself with how your stomach seems to shrink and turn at his touch.

His fingers are firm, and you feel the strength on them, you try to ignore the tingly feeling that runs up and down your leg, like some weird, unexplainable electrical charge, and how it seems to only spread from his hand. You pretend the contact isn't affecting you, it's an easy thing to do.

He lets his hand linger there, resting on your knee for a while, and you don't fucking move a muscle, and, for once, it's a deliberate choice, you're not letting him keep his hand there, you want him to keep it there, too afraid that if you move, say something, or even breathe weird, he might just take it away from you, and you'd never forgive yourself for that.

But he interprets your stillness, and your silence — and the fact you stopped breathing for a hot second, as discomfort, and Joel promptly moves his hand from your leg, placing it back on the steering wheel, like he should, he knew you enough to know you wouldn't speak up on your discomfort, but didn't know you well enough now to know why exactly you were letting him touch you like that in the first place, but the answer is very simple:

You liked it .

And it disappoints you that he withdrew it, even though that was probably for the best.

"If you ask me," the man cleared his throat, taking it upon himself to clear the air, you couldn't say he wasn't considerate when he wanted to, "Which I know ya didn't, but that ain't gonna stop me, ya should talk to your dad about this."

You give a halfhearted laugh, not really looking at him.

"What's so funny?" Joel asks.

"It won't do anyone no good, Joel," you declare, your resigned, dejected tone seems to upset him, or maybe it's the way you sound so comfortable with that tone that upsets him, "I'm almost in my senior year, anyway, a lot of money was invested in this, and besides, he wouldn't get it."

You have nothing more to say about the topic.

Joel seems like he has plenty to say, though, like he always did, "I don't think so. In my own experience, ain't a man in this world that loves a girl more than her own father, doll."

It was meant to sound like some profound advice, like Joel always did, but to you, it felt like a blow straight to your stomach.

His experience was nothing like yours, he was nothing like your dad, far from it.

But that was a good thing.

Joel parks in front of your childhood home not much later, it's been at most two, maybe three years since you were here the last time, the sight of that house shouldn't be making you feel so uncomfortable and anxious, but it did.

He gets off the car first, while you stay stuck in your uncomfortable stupor, you only come back to reality when Joel opens your door for you, a nice, chivalrous smile — as chivalrous Joel Miller can be — on his lips, making way for you.

"Welcome home, doll."

It's so hard not to blush when he says stuff like this.

Joel carries your bags inside, even though you tell him that you can take care of them yourself. He tells you not to worry. You follow him quietly, the only sounds filling the hallway are his heavy footsteps, the clanking of keys against the wooden door, and the loud tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock, you used to be kind of scared of that clock as a little girl, it made such an intimidating, imposing noise.

The house was empty, that's what you first assumed, at least, judging by how dark and neat everything was, smelling strongly of furniture polish, not a thing out of place, it felt like it was just you and Joel, in your childhood home, you tried not to let your mind wander to what would happen if it were really just you and him.

He carried your bags so easily, he must be so strong. You know he works in construction, that's why his hands look so rough, and probably feel rough, too, you didn't get to feel it on your leg thanks to the fabric of your jeans, but you're sure of it, you can almost imagine the coarseness on your skin, the warmth, he could pick you up so easily if he wanted to—

Heavy, hurried footsteps making their way down from the second floor startle you out of your thoughts, you know those steps far too well, you grew up trying to listen for them whenever the house went too silent, or when you were laying in your bed, staring at the plaster-white ceiling of your room, trying to gauge if it was safe to get out yet, or if he was in a bad mood and you should wait.

Those are your father's footsteps.

He comes down the steps in a frenzy, and his feet almost don't respond to his brain's command to stop when he finally spots you and Joel, he seemed distracted by something on his phone.

"Oh, shit— I didn't hear you enter." he says with a slightly awkward laugh, but still unabashed, it's not directed to you, however, his attention is on his friend, "Can you believe they're not going to pay me for the overtime I had to do at the office? That's ridiculous, isn't it?"

He wasn't paying attention to you, and, for a reason you don't understand, you can't help but feel relieved and happy, not like he'd actually have any energy to spare for his daughter.

Joel shook his head, a sort of smirk on his face, the way they're standing makes them look like the best of friends, and yet, something about how Joel stuffs his hands in his pockets and shifts his body slightly to your direction tells you he's unimpressed, "Hey, now." he points at you with his head, his command is clear, and you didn't think you— or your dad — would live long enough to see someone bossing him, "I brought your princess, didn't I?"

Your dad only now notices you, his face lights up, though not really in a heartwarming way, and not in a manner that you could find even remotely appealing or warm.

It was a look and reaction of a man who just remembered he forgot to pick up his child, which, in a way, he kind of did.

"There's my baby girl," he walks up to you and engulfs you in a bear hug, it's very sudden and awkward, he's squeezing you a little too tight, you never really fit in his hugs, but you hug him back nonetheless, "How was the trip?"

"It was fine." you say.

It rolls off your tongue so easily, sounds almost so beautifully rehearsed, automatic, like an answering machine, because it really is.

Joel gives you a weird look, you're not looking at him, but you can feel it burning on your nape, like he can't seem to figure out why the fuck you'd say that, when it would take at most thirty seconds to tell your father, with enough detail, what a mess it was. Your dad was a lawyer, if someone would know how to deal with an incompetent airline who almost lost your luggage, made you wait for a long time, inconvenienced you, and wouldn't budge about compensation, that someone was your dad, why wouldn't you tell him about it? Why would you opt for the almost political, statesmanlike "fine", when it's so clear by how you said it that it wasn't, in fact, "fine"?

Your dad chuckles, letting go of you, his arms move away from your shoulders and back, "I'm glad to hear that."

He says, you smile, Joel coughs.

Then it's complete silence for a second or two. No one really knows what to say, and you almost think it's your fault for answering noncommittally, but your father speaks up, before Joel does.

"It's so good to have you back, baby girl, this house has been so empty." your father says, a weird, forced chuckle at the end, Joel is starting to see where you got your awkwardness from, "I just got home from the law firm, but it was just to grab some papers, I should be heading back, but, uhm, let's have dinner later, yeah?" he was making a move for the front door, the one you closed behind you not even a few minutes ago, his eyes going back to his phone, "Joel, you and Sarah should join us, I'm sure she—"

"Now, hang on a minute," Joel cuts in, he's quick, that man never misses a beat, "You gotta go back right now? What, can't ya stay just a few more minutes? Catch up with your girl, and whatnot?"

It was very obvious — to you — what he's trying to do, Joel Miller is tactful enough to not cut a leg off just because it's bruised, but he's still a man who likes to brute force some things, and right now, he is trying to brute force you an opportunity, because Joel Miller seems to enjoy taking things upon himself that he had no business interfering in.

Your father stops in his tracks, hand frozen on the doorknob, mid-turn, he looks confused, if anything, speechless, like he couldn't think of a single possible thing to say right now, looking between his friend and you, uninterested, unfazed.

"How's... How's college?" he eventually asks, it sounds impersonal, but Joel sighs like he just won a jackpot.

He did it, he gave you a very clear opportunity, and Joel was right there beside you to support you, you could say — even if briefly, superficially — what you were thinking, what you were feeling, just to get a word out, and then maybe talk through it over dinner, with some good father-daughter quality time, a desperately needed heart-to-heart, that's what he hoped for, that was his intention behind doing that, it had to be.

"It's fine." you say, a short answer, nothing too detailed, and a complete lie.

A look of exasperation and confusion crosses Joel's eyes.

Your father, though, smiles, that same diplomatic, polite smile you always give people, and he nods, "I'm glad to hear, dear."

You three stand still where you are, you because it's routine, your father because he's confused and awkward, and Joel because he's too fucking astonished to move a fucking muscle.

"Well, we can talk more about it when I get back." your dad declared, the door lock clicked and he was about to leave, "Dinner tonight, guys."

Your dad is out the door not long after that, it closes with a slam behind him, leaving you and Joel in a cold, stale-smelling home.

For a long time, nothing is said between the two of you.

"Alright." you mutter, almost as if to yourself, taking your bag in your hand, the wheels clattering against the floor, and Joel moves behind you, following you upstairs to your room.

"Are you— You can't be serious right now," he says, trying to mask his complete bewilderment, and doing a shit job at it, " 'It's fine' ?!"

He tries to say it like you would say, a high, mocking, shaky voice, his arms open in a defeated, almost hopeless, manner.

"Joel, not now," you tell him, walking down the long hallway, and not looking back at him, "I'll be sleeping."

"What— no."

You try closing the door to your room, but it slams loudly on Joel's open palm with a lot of force, you're pretty sure you didn't close it that hard, that was his doing, you still can't help, though, to feel more worried about your door than about his hand. He pushed it wide open again, towering on your door frame, but didn't cross the threshold, you felt weirdly trapped, your bag and your body feel heavy, you set the luggage down.

Joel's expression is unlike any other you've ever seen, and the look in his eyes is so intense, full of indignation, your knees wobble a bit under his scrutiny, you hate yourself for that, you don't want him to notice that, he shouldn't be seeing you so affected.

"Y'know, I used to think you were just a very weird kid," he starts, Joel sounds legitimately, personally offended, his outrage is palpable, it's like he can't barely keep it in, but it's trying to so very hard, "Just— painfully shy, didn't know how to talk to no one, didn't really talk at all, went along with everything, and everything was fine, 'cause that's what you always said, all the fuckin' time, and I really thought it was, for the longest time."

"Joel—"

"No." his tone leaves no room for discussion, his expression hard, but when you immediately shut up, it almost seems to upset him more, "I really thought you'd grow out of the pushover phase, I even thought I could help it by urging you a little—"

"I'm not a pushover!" you frown, trying to sound strong and firm, but it was clear the words had no bite to them.

"Oh, bull-fucking-shit, doll, you're the biggest pushover I've ever met," he scoffs at you, still leaning against the frame of your bedroom door, "As a kid, you'd go along with whatever Sarah wanted to do, as a teen, I had to witness you going out with the most stupid looking boys I've ever had the displeasure of setting my eyes on, now you're a grown-ass pushover!"

"Why are you mad at me?" you ask, you're so fucking confused, you feel attacked, really, literally cornered by the man. On any other day, you'd be bawling your eyes out, but Jesus fucking Christ, you were so done with today, you have been bottling up so much shit you could feel your bile taint your mouth with its bitter taste, you were furious.

"I'm not mad at you, doll, I'm mad for you."

After he says that, there's a pause, he didn't mean to get into a yelling match with you, and he looked disheartened. Joel rubbed one of his big palms over his face, like he's suddenly feeling so much more tired than before.

He was such a caring man, and it makes your chest feel warm, even though his concern for you wasn't your idea of a nice conversation.

"I'm mad for you, because this sucks, girl," he says, sounding tired, he takes a deep breath, and then his voice gets more serious, lower, calmer, and you know he's getting his emotions in check, "Your dad is a good friend, though I'm starting to question how good of a father he is, if even he pushes you 'round like this, but c'mon, doll, you ain't a little girl anymore."

"Oh, shut up." you scoff, this time your tone has more venom behind it, your voice gets higher, but still doesn't come out as a scream, and your body is shaking from rage, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?" he scoffs back, but on his lips a smirk appears, fuck, he's doing it again, he's playing with you, just like he always did to urge you, to get on your nerves, to see how far he could push you until you blow up, but the only reason you never blew up was because no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

"Let us see if I don't, then," Joel continues, just his head trespasses the threshold of your room, like the rest of his body is being held back by some invisible force, he wants to provoke you, but at the same time seems to have no intention of violating your space, it was a weird mix of things, you never understood him, "You're a fine, grown woman, studying something ya don't wanna study, going places ya don't wanna go, talking to people ya don't wanna talk to, hell, doll, what else is being shoved down your throat, and you just take it without a peep? Do the guys you go out with also trample all over you?"

"Just shut up." you repeat yourself, and he smirks wider, because it's working, he can see it in how tensed your posture became, he could feel it, and the worst part is that it was true, every word of it.

"What is it that you want, huh? I ain't ever heard that combination of words come out o' your mouth, ‘I want’ , even as a kid, I have no fuckin' idea of what you really want, of what you'd ask of someone, and it's starting to look like you don't either."

"Oh, my God— I want you to shut the fuck up, Joel, and close the goddamn door! How 'bout that?!" you explode, yelling, it wasn't even a particularly high or loud voice, but your outburst was unexpected, you couldn't hold back, your anger had nowhere else to go but forward, you didn't mean to yell, but you did.

It came out of your chest with so much force you could feel your face going red from embarrassment.

He blinked.

Once, twice.

You'd have thought you broke him, the look of surprise in his face, and the silence that fell upon the two of you was unnerving, but at least you made him stop talking, at least the constant, buzzing noise in the back of your mind is no longer there, it's blissfully quiet.

"Very well." he nods decidedly, and closes the door.

Joel closes the door behind him, finally stepping into your room, the heavy lock clicks, the air feels thicker, like he's somehow managed to take the whole thing up a notch, and, to be fair, he fucking did.

"That's a good start." it sounds like praise, because it is praise, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates inside your stomach and shoots directly down between your legs.

It's the kind of voice that has no business existing outside of a bedroom, you think, his southern drawl dripping on each of the words like hot, sticky honey, and you could just fucking cry from how arousing it actually was.

He walks in further in slow, careful steps, like you're some kind of wild animal, Joel's body moves towards you, eyes fixed, never breaking the staring contest you two started.

Joel Miller's presence was already overwhelming on itself, his physical height, his build, the way he looked like he could easily snap you in half, but you've seen this man care for his daughter more times than you can remember, you've seen him go out of his way for people who couldn't stand him, his family, and most importantly, you, the kid he babysat whenever your dad just had to stay late somewhere.

He wasn't scary, quite the opposite, he was magnetic, upsettingly so.

"So, doll," Joel continues, "How's it going to be?"

His eyes are intense, his presence is so, so big, you're feeling smaller by the minute, and yet he still didn't even get that close, still didn't try to touch you, he was waiting for an answer.

"What?"

"'Cause I ain't goin' to ask again, I don't like to repeat myself," he said, the tone was softer than what the words sounded like, almost reassuring, it was so different to what you're used to, his face gets closer, you could see his beard better now, and his eyes were unbearably dark, "I ain't doin' a damn thing, unless you tell me what ya want."

What a low blow, but that's how Joel Miller was, the man never played fair.

"I can't." you tell him, voice soft and weak, but there was an undertone of rage to it, the fact that you knew exactly what you wanted to say and how, and he knew that, too, it was maddening.

He has the gall to roll his eyes and click his tongue at you, like he's annoyed at having to repeat himself for a third time, you can't believe it, and his hands come to rest on his hips, his body open, so you can clearly see, read him like a fucking open book.

"I ain't going nowhere, I ain't leaving this room, unless you say something," Joel starts again, a very deep frown between his brows, you'd even dare say that he's frustrated, and then it comes again, his voice, so low, it was nothing more than a rumble, and yet the hairs of your arm and neck are raised, you shudder, "Now, how is it gonna be, sweetheart? I'm all ears."

It was a clear invitation, he wasn't asking you again, the question had an ultimatum, and it wasn't hard to tell that this is Joel's idea of giving you the push you need to break free.

A breath you didn't realize you were holding came out shakily, a lot of pent-up emotions coming up to the surface, but Joel waited, you were the one in charge, you were the one setting the pace here.

And if there was something you knew about him, it was just how stubborn he could be, growing up with that fucking asshole pushing your damn buttons all the time taught you that much, but the intent behind his attitude was never really clear— until now. He was an asshole, but he was an asshole of his word, once you took control of the wheel, there would be no going back, but you do have a choice — which was his point all along —, you can either tell him to leave, or tell him what you really want, but you have to say it like you mean it.

"I don't want you to leave." you say, your voice is low, but that's just because you don't trust what kinds of sound could escape from your mouth if you tried to talk louder.

"Okay." Joel nods at you, his smirk is a full smile now, a proud grin on his lips, but that wasn't good enough for him, not the answer he wanted to hear, and he tells you so, "You're doing good, doll, but let's be more positive, aight? I wanna hear you say what you want ."

Fuck, you're trembling, he's close, so close to you, your sense of smell is so heightened, you think, because the scent of his cologne is the only thing you can smell in that small room of yours, the deep breath you take is not even voluntary, your body is reacting on its on, the tingling, fluttering feeling you felt through your body sets and pools in your lower tummy, it's an all too familiar sensation, the arousal is undeniable.

You got all wet just with some soft words and his smell, and you know he's noticing it, it was clear, not even in a million years would Joel miss how his proximity is affecting you, his gaze is unbearable.

You'd rather not say it, but there's no other choice, your words have to come out crystal clear, otherwise he's just going to stay there and make you wait for him, that was also part of his little game, so, for fuck's sake, you take the bull by the horns, and you take another step.

"I want you to stay." Your chest heaves with your breathing, but your tone is unmistakable, he wanted to hear your voice, so there you go, saying exactly what's on your mind, your real thoughts, the ones you wouldn't dare saying aloud.

Joel looks impressed.

"Atta girl." there's a new intensity in his gaze, the smugness and pride is still there, but you've seen that kind of look before on other men, that glint of thirst, it's the most dangerous one, "Then I'll stay, darlin'. See? Wasn't it easy?"

" No. " you find it in yourself to huff, your newfound braveness is a surprise even to you, but it's hard to be anxious and self-conscious when he's moving closer to you so decidedly, "Nothing is ever easy with you."

He tilts his head to the side briefly, a small gesture of agreement, his steps are slow, but not as calculated anymore, they're shorter now, his eyes are still locked on yours, but the tension that you felt so keenly in the beginning, that air of challenge was gone, his entire focus was now solely on you.

"Guilty as charged," Joel chuckles, a hand reaching to your cheek, and the moment his thumb makes contact with your skin, you lean into the touch, it feels cold against your burning face, and it's probably the only thing keeping you from melting completely, "But doesn't it feel good, to finally let out the truth?"

His thumb moves along the softness of your cheek, he caresses the apple of it, his eyes darting down to look at your lips, his smile gets even softer, and then he says, "To finally be honest with yourself and say what you want."

His hand slides from your cheek down to the curve of your chin, and then, he cups it with a gentleness that surprised you, but then you remembered, this was no stranger, this was Joel, and the knowledge of knowing this is the same man who has watched you grow up made something hot and sticky build up in the pit of your belly, a desire so powerful that it has your brain go all mushy, your words stuck in the back of your throat, it was a pain to get them out.

" Touch me. "

Joel Miller has no right being that attractive, he shouldn't look this good, he should not have this effect on you, he had no right on having you in such an infuriating and sudden chokehold, he wasn't even trying.

You couldn't find the words to describe exactly what you’re feeling, they were all lost in a muddle of lust, it's an unbearable, mind-numbing kind of horny that had your whole body reacting so quickly to such simple actions, it was a mix of things that were starting to make you feel out of sorts.

It's not just the arousal, nor just the fact that he's here with you, so close to you that you could feel the warmth emanating from his big body, nor even just the fact that, since you're on a roll of being honest and letting loose of your inhibitions, this was your long time crush touching you, hooking his hands below your ass to lift you up as easily as he picked up your luggage from the airport.

The yelp you let out is far from the most graceful noise you ever made, your arms shoot around his neck to steady yourself, but aside from the abrupt rising, you were never at risk of falling, his arms are so solid under your thighs, more solid than the floor that was under your feet just a few seconds ago, you feel. Your core is pressed flush against his abdomen, you can feel his body warmth, and you've never been so glad to be wearing good denim pants, otherwise you would have made a mess on him just by being held.

"No need to be scared." Joel snarks, carrying you somewhere.

"A little word of warning would've been nice, though," you say back, his nose is so close to yours, and it makes your face feel warm, even the tip of his beard tickled the side of your cheek, he smelled so nice, you really are a mess.

"Oh, sorry, princess, next time, I'll do just that, just let me put you where you want first." his drawl is the last drop, his smirk is so self-assured, he knows he's dangling a treat over your head.

Joel sets you down on your room's desk, the man sets his hands firmly on top of your thighs and unceremoniously spreads them wide, making room for his body, and your eyes are just glued to the view, looking down at the show he was putting on of how your bodies seemed to be aligned to fit so perfectly together, your imagination ran wild trying to picture just how obscenely hot it would be to watch yourself get stretched out by his cock from that angle.

You set your own hand on his chest, and you don't know if it's his cologne, or if it's him, but he smells so nice, he has a musky, earthy scent of man that had you dizzy and out of focus.

"Hey, look at me." he commanded you, lifting your chin up with his fingers, "I ain't doin' anything until ya tell me, remember? How's it gonna be, darlin'?"

"Oh, you're unbelievable..." you shake your head, your words come out riding a laugh, he had you just where he wanted, the only thing stopping you was just your clothes, but he still was dead set on making you spell it all out for him.

"C'mon, doll," Joel insists, a smirk pulling the side of his mouth up, his fingers digging deeper into your thighs, you could see the shape of his dick pressing hard against the front of his pants, his other hand moving up, ghosting over your waist and chest, "It's an easy question, ya just gotta say the word, what's the holdup?"

The holdup was your pride, and maybe some remnants of shame you felt, you were never the bold kind, or the kind that openly spoke of her sexual desires and wants, that's the kind of person you never saw yourself as, even as an adult with an active sex life, so when faced with Joel, his hard-set insistence, the challenge in his dark, lust filled eyes and his soft, deep voice presented to you, the request seemed out of character.

Your words are there, but it was so difficult to bring them to light, they're at the tip of your tongue.

"We gotta practice that assertiveness, if you're really going through law school." Joel quips, and he knows exactly what he's doing, it was just the final push of well-meaning annoyance to get you talking, because how could you put up with his teasing and mocking you and not tell him to just shut the fuck up and kiss you already.

"Shut up."

He did shut up.

Joel shut the fuck up, and closed the short distance between your lips and his.

The first brush of lips was a question, barely touching yours, but it was enough to make you let out a pathetic, expectant little sigh. The second one, you met him in the middle, unwilling to let him keep toying with you like that, finding a place for your lips between his.

Joel was kissing you.

You've been waiting for that kiss for years now.

Well, maybe two, max, but that was more than enough for you.

Growing impatient with those sweet pecks, you're the first to part your lips, you brush your tongue over his bottom lip sheepishly, but with an eagerness of a person who has been denied something she wanted for such a long time, he pulls back slightly just to spite you, but Joel is far gone at this point, too. One of his hands shoots up to grab hold of your face with such despair it almost hits you, "Sorry.", he tries to murmur, but it gets lost in your mouths as soon as the apology comes out. Lord, his tongue, though.

Joel tastes like nothing else, a combination of scotch and a very distinct, personal taste that had you salivating for more. Your teeth click, a mess of lips and tongue, his beard scratching you, and it's probably the hottest fucking thing in the whole world to feel. His breath comes out harshly through his nostrils, and he lets out a guttural groan as the hand on your face goes down, exploring your neck and shoulders, keeping you still by your throat, a cheeky thumb pressing down on the hollow that your pulse ran through, just enough to feel it.

He's showing off, that much is clear to you, by the way he's so unabashed about how his tongue is in your mouth and yours is in his, the wet sounds you make echo through the room, the quiet sighs, moans and hums he's drawing out of you, it makes you feel suddenly bashful.

"Oh, don't go shy on me now, doll, c'mon." Joel pulls back, his breath fanning hot on your lips, the thumb at your neck moves down and rubs circles on your collarbones, he's got this smug smirk on his face, you've always wanted to wipe it off.

"Jesus— shut the fuck up, Joel." it comes out so much easier now that you've got a taste of him, it was all too clear to you what you really want.

He smiles, he smiles that smile you know means he's about to be a jackass, and the look on his face was pure sin.

"Keep him out o' this, princess." his low laugh rumbles through his chest, his mouth is so close to yours, he was clearly teasing you, testing your resolve, his grip on your thigh was so hard that it had a delicious sting, it had you all aflame inside and out, the tension between you so palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife, "Ain't nothing holy 'bout what I wanna do to ya."

The next thing that came out of your mouth was just an unintelligible whimper, the way his lips and beard pressed and rubbed against the soft skin of your throat felt heavenly, it tickled just the slightest, but it wasn't enough to make you pull away. You tipped your head to the side and offered your neck to him, giving him space to do as he pleased, and Joel, like a moth to a flame, moved quickly.

His mouth was so hot, his teeth biting a mark onto the crook of your neck, making you let out a soundless, shuddery breath, a sharp, small gasp followed after a second of realization, that's gonna leave a mark, and you have no idea how to explain that to your father, hiding it just doesn't seem like a reliable option, but then you feel it, Joel's lips curling up in a smile against your flesh, that fucking bastard , he did it on purpose.

With a kiss and a long swipe of his tongue over the bite, he appeases you, the worry and surprise wear off as he licks the salt off your skin, Joel is relentless in his pursuit, he's trying to take everything off of you, your taste, your breath, your moans and sighs, he's set out on devouring you.

"God, ya look so good, darlin'. Look at you." he murmurs into your neck, his voice is strained, the drawl he puts on the pet names so obvious, and so incredibly sexy, it has a direct link to the growing dampness that has taken over the seat of your panties, his eyes move up slowly, the appreciation he's making it very obvious that he sees you as nothing less than a feast.

You could barely take it.

"Fuck." your voice comes out strangled, a newfound boldness fills your mind, the warmth in your body making you brazen. Your hands shot down to the fly of your jeans, "Stop looking at me like that, for fuck's sake—"

The sight of your hands going for your pants had a riveting effect on Joel, he went from teasing and self-satisfied to horny in an instant, and he seemed to have forgotten everything he was doing and that idiotic fucking game he was playing with you, he watched, rapt and eager as you unbuttoned and unzipped a way for him, and he's not very patient, not right now.

Joel doesn't wait for you to try and get the damn thing off your body before he pulls — better yet, yanks you — to him by your nape for another kiss, and presses his other hand on your tummy with clear intent, sliding a tantalizing trail down, until he can stuff his fingers right down your jeans and the seat of your panties.

"Wait—" you gasp, not able to fight off his iron grip on you, but it's not like you want to, "Let me get them off—"

"Ain't no need for that." Joel denies, shaking his head slightly, the hand in the back of your neck keeps you from pulling away from him, the kiss that he plants on your lips is rough, it's bruising in the best of ways, you feel it on your cheeks, but most importantly, you feel his fingertips slide easily past the waistband of your panties, just then he allows you to lean back ever so slightly, probably with the selfish motivation of being able to touch you better — as selfish as that can be.

God , you're a mess, you can feel it as his finger first touches you, sliding down your folds, just how obscenely wet it feels, the shuddering breath you let out when his digit meets your clit is just embarrassing. You have never, ever been so horny in your life.

Joel chuckles, not mockingly, he just thinks your reactions are the most adorable fucking thing, his voice is muffled when he talks into your neck, you can barely feel it as he moves to whisper in your ear, his finger tracing lazy, tight circles over your clit, "You're so fuckin' wet, sweetheart," he groans, your fingers have a vice grip on his arms, "That for me?"

Yes, yes, yes . Fucking yes, that's all because of him, and you got like that even before that motherfucker laid a finger on you, but he didn't need to know that, the last thing Joel Miller needed was that big of an ego boost, or else you were gonna find yourself a real problem to deal with.

"Fuck—" you bite back a sob, but can't hold back how your body jolts as a reaction to his touch, those fucking little circles, the slickness makes his finger glide over your sensitive little nub, he's barely even applying pressure, just taking his time getting acquainted with how you like it, he's mapping your actions and reactions like he hasn’t known you for pretty much forever, his beard and teeth and lips still kissing and biting a hot trail from one side of your neck to the other, you'll be a mess once this is over, and you hope it never ends, "C'mon— Joel— I thought we were getting to the good part?"

He lets out an indignant little snort, the sound he makes as he nips at the hinge of your jaw is something you have no way to describe, he wants a fucking piece of you, he wants it all, the thought sends your heart fluttering, you had no way to know, but this was just the appetizer of the main course.

Joel hums, he hums into the space between your jaw and ear, his finger not leaving the top of your cunt, and it's starting to get really frustrating, you could feel a spark, something that could've become something, if only he put some actual work into it.

"Ya got somewhere to go?" he teases, "So impatient..."

"C'mon, Joel, please ..." your plea clearly has an effect, you can feel the low rumble in his chest, he can't stop himself, even though you could see the glint of something devious in his dark brown eyes, a cheeky finger moving lower, searching, rubbing down your pussy, Joel is taking his sweet, sweet time with it all," Please, I want you insi—"

His thick, rough digit easily pushes past the wet, tight rim of your opening, his fingertip sinks inside, just the barest of it, but it's enough for you to lose it for a second, his touch has a jolt shooting up your whole body, your nails digging into his shoulders, the surprised moan you let out makes your cheeks burn hotter than before, it's so different to be touched by someone else, it feels like he could do whatever he wanted to you, and he'd make you take it.

There's absolutely no way anyone else could touch you like he does.

No man in this world would ever be as good as him, it was that simple, it was a truth you knew well and true.

Joel was a force of nature, you could never understand it, not even if you tried.

Your breath catches in your throat, a sharp gasp follows his finger pressing further in, it's just so fucking good to have something filling you in, filling up that insane emptiness you were feeling just a second before, it slides in so easily, making squelching sounds as your wet cunt opens up around it, taking it all, as much as he can give it to you, sliding in and out, just to test how wet and pliant your cunt is for him.

"Oh, fuck... God, yes, yes , Joel, like that." the praise, the satisfaction that's coming from your words seem to do things to Joel, too. His body moves forward, trying to press closer to yours, his face buries deep into the crook of your neck, the scent of his hair, the scent of his cologne, the sweat he's breaking, his warm breath fanning out and spreading a hot, wet wave on your skin, you hug him for dear fucking life, if the desk under you gives in, you at least know you can hang onto him, your nails latch on the fabric of his red flannel, desperate.

"You're doin' so good, baby," you hear him speak against your throat, he kisses you there, right below your ear, the vibration of his deep voice is something you'll feel in your core, forever, it'll never go away, it'll follow you, it'll stay in your memory and will come back every time you think of him, of the moment you got fingerfucked by him on top of your desk, "So fuckin' good , look at you."

God, how are you going to forget about that? It was going to drive you crazy for days, months, years to come, just thinking about Joel praising you and fingering you at the same time was almost too much. You felt his fingers wrap around a fistful of your hair, his lips on yours again, just as he slides another finger in. Fuck, if he could keep doing that— if you two could keep that up for the rest of your break, Texas would never be so fucking awful anymore, you'd come back again every time, at every opportunity, just for him.

It's just too good, the friction, the growing moans and whines that spill from your mouth are swallowed by him, and they just seem to make him go on, go harder and deeper, a curl of his fingers hits something so right that a full-bodied shudder passes through you on a round trip, a sob wrenched from your throat. He smirks, and keeps hitting the spot over and over, until he has you squirming and bucking your hips up in his direction, grinding, riding his fingers like a desperate girl, so filthy.

"Fuck— please, Joel— god, right there—!" you hiccup, your mouth hangs open as you squeeze your eyes shut, for a moment the only sounds that can be heard are his breathing, the quiet muttered praises he showers you in that you can't quite make out right now, and that wet symphony of your pussy around his thick fingers, your voice seems to clog and get stuck on your throat, your tummy tightens up, like a coil, the pleasure so overwhelming.

One of your hands slams loudly on the wood under you, just holding on to him isn't enough anymore, the firmness of the desk provides you with just enough support to brace for what it felt like imminent impact.

"C'mon, doll," he urges you, he can feel you fluttering and clenching around his fingers, holding on to his knuckles, God, it's one of his favorite feelings now, no pussy ever felt like yours, and he didn't even get to see the damn fucking thing yet, just fingering you under your beat up jeans was more fun and satisfying than most sex he'd had as of recently, "Show me— c'mon, that's it," he speaks lowly, "I want you to cum for me, alright, sweetheart, cum for me."

Your voice breaks free in a mellow shriek, a gasp for air, a loud sigh of relief as it washes over you like a tidal wave.

"fuckJoelyesyesyesYESpleaseitfeelssofuckinggood—"

What comes out of your mouth is just a string of undecipherable, desperate, whiny moans, your whole body jerks forwards, and it almost feels like falling, but he's there right in front of you, strong as ever, more than anyone you've ever met, to hold on to you, kissing soothing patches on the little skin your t-shirt offers him, but he'll take it, he'll take everything he can get, he'll kiss you forever, if he can.

Joel only lets go of you — barely — back on the desk when your whole being relaxes from the sudden tension, you had gone slack in his arms, but that's not new. His hands come back out of the confines of your pants, and the wetness he found inside makes your thighs shiver, a faint silky, translucent trail connects you for a moment, before it's gone as quickly as it came.

God, your legs feel like jelly, you don't think you have it in you to walk, but it can't stop you from trying. What can stop you from trying, however, is the man in front of you.

"Nah, ah, slow down." he reprimands, pulling you back up before the tip of your toes could even touch the floor, though his tone isn't stern, and he has a grin on his face when he simply sticks his fingers, all coated in your arousal, inside your mouth, "Don't go runnin' off on me."

There's no energy left in you, or will, to fight him, he can call you a fucking pushover if he wants to, but you do as he clearly commanded, sucking his digits clean, eating your own release straight from his fingers.

He's pleased, with you, with your blatant display of compliance, of eagerness and how willing you were to be so goddamn dirty in a heartbeat. Joel is pleased with you.

"There's a good girl," Joel mumbles, his dark eyes fixed on yours, he looks like he's not able to take them off you, like if he blinks, he'll miss something really, really good, "Just perfect, darlin’, you’re perfect."

The words sound like a lull, his thumb moves to trace the line of your bottom lip, your eyes flutter close, and the weight of your own exhaustion presses on you. A soft smile curls his lips, it's warm and sincere, you feel like melting in a puddle at the sight, it was hard not to give into it.

"Hey..." he calls out for you, pulling you a bit closer, just so he can brush your nose with his.

You blink, a little lost, you could get so lost in him.

"Fuck, did I knock you out?" he chuckles, lovingly pulling you against him, you rest your chin on his shoulder, and let him do what he wants with your hair, run his clean hand through your locks, he's kissing the shell of your ear again.

"Maybe." Joel can hear the smile on your voice as you say it, you take in a deep breath, almost as if you didn't get enough air throughout all this, "This was... insane."

"Is that a compliment?" his laugh, so clear, and his breath tickling the side of your neck has a warmth spread on your chest.

"Absolutely." you nod, your arms come to lock around his frame, almost like a hug. It's funny, that's probably the first time you ever hugged him, "Don't get too used to it, if you don't start changing up your attitude a bit."

His response is an annoyed grunt meant only halfheartedly, you almost think it's a threat of a laugh, actually, "I'll take what I can get, then."

Joel pushes you away a little, just so he can get a good look at you, his eyes roam your current less than regal state with an almost worried glint to them, trying to gauge if you're okay, or if there was something else you needed. He's always been very attentive to details, after all, his eyes linger a bit on your hair, a little longer than what you think it should.

"So," he starts, not knowing if he should bring this up, but, well, the thought had already crossed his mind, so he just let the question come out, "Was it worth it? Using your words?"

"It... was. I liked it a lot, honestly, you— you did great, I wasn't expecting... you know."

"Uh, yes, I was not expecting it either."

A soft laugh leaves your mouth, a smile plays on your lips.

"Oh, so it wasn't a plan of yours all along? Some machination of yours?" your tease earns you a very dragged out eye roll, it takes another laugh out of you.

"What do ya think I am? Some kind of mastermind?" he scoffs, shaking his head, and looking a little bit hurt, like you'd offended him, "You know, not everythin' that I say has some kinda double meanin'. Not everyone's like that."

"No, no, I get it," you assure, patting him in the shoulder, "Not everything you say is some secret agenda."

Joel's frown and slightly pinched expression dissolves with that, a tiny sigh leaving his lips, and he takes a few steps backwards, to give you space enough to put yourself, "Think ya can fix yourself up? Take a nice shower, put on some clothes that don't smell like fuckin' Boston?"

You cock your head to the side, and look down at yourself, then at him, "What about you, though?"

"Me?" Joel seems legitimately confused for a second, until he follows your gaze down, his hard on is still there, hard as ever, straining the denim of his pants. He looks back at you, a brow raised, arms crossed, you know that posture, some stupid fucking quip is about to come out of his mouth, "Think you can take it?"

The idea has a shiver running through you, you felt the dull ache on your inner walls, even as your breathing steadied.

"I don't think you can, not right now." he says before you can get a word in, and he grins at you, it's different that his other grins he'd always give you before, but it has the same fondness, "I'll be fine, I'm a grown man, I can handle it."

He could say that all he wanted, but you still see the discomfort, the little fidgety moves he does to find a good way to position his junk.

You could do it, though. If it came to that.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure you need a fucking shower." he claps back instantly, not giving into your offer, "I made a mess all over you."

"So crude, Jesus..." you scoff, but your feet dangle under you, completely carefree, the edge of the desk is digging on to your flesh, you think it'll bruise a bit, you can feel it in your ass, it was worth it, "You kiss your daughter with that mouth?"

"Sure, all the time." Joel grins, and takes the liberty of starting to tuck in his flannel back into the hem of his jeans, "And do even worse shit to you."

"Wow, real fucking classy." your voice is laced with sarcasm, though it lacks bite, your legs sway left to right as you watch him put himself back in order. It's such a mundane task, really, and you feel a little dumb for not realizing how you pulled and tugged at him, though he doesn't seem to mind.

Silence falls over you both as he finishes putting himself back in order, it's a comfortable kind of silence, for once, but Joel is still the first one to break it.

"If ya need me to, I'll stay a bit longer until after you shower, help you put your things in place..." he's interrupted by a buzz, Joel reaches a hand to his front pocket for his phone, an iPhone half a dozen generations old, checks the screen, and stuffs it back in, unbothered, "That kind of thing."

Your brows shoot up in curiosity, he didn't even pay whatever it was on his phone half his mind, his attention never faltered from you, his offer still hangs in the air, you want him to stay, but—

"Don't you have... things to do?" you ask, genuinely curious, "I mean, someone rang you up."

"It's just Sarah textin' me, askin' if I picked you up from the airport already, because I seem to be takin’ a long time to come back." Joel explains it to you, his gaze sweeps your desk and the floor, where the little chaos your activities had brought to it was. The laptop's screen has gone dark, so it probably died, but it's the only thing he could see out of order, "Should I tell her?"

He smiles at how you laughed, the affection in his gaze makes you feel warm inside.

"Don't you dare," you reply, jumping from the desk, your knees a little wobbly, and you fall right into his arms. Joel doesn't mind holding you, keeping you close to him, you feel like the luckiest woman in the whole state, maybe in the world, "But you should go back to her, y'know? She's your daughter."

"Yeah, I didn't forget that." he seems to not have forgotten how to be sarcastic, either, "But I know she's fine, you sure you don't want me to stay."

"It's fine." you say with a shake of your head.

Joel, like you were watching an old scene from an old movie, takes that characteristic deep breath of his, the trigger seems to be your tagline, it riles him up so much, apparently. You think it's funny.

"Fine— girl, didn't we have a whole conversation about this? I had to finger more words into your vocabulary, do I have to fuck this one out of you?" his exasperation, like his smile, is soft and tender, the scowl on his face, though, it's almost intimidating, if it wasn't because you already had him all figured out.

"You can try." your words have a double meaning, a playful note, but you meant every word. You'd let him have your body if he so much as asked for it, Joel already knows that, however.

"I mean it, it's alright."

"Do you?" he presses you further, he wants to make sure you're not just saying that for the sake of it, brushing his offer off just because it could apparently inconvenience him, you forgot, for a moment, how that man was stubborn as a fucking mule.

"I do." your tone is decided, "Besides, you two will come for dinner with my dad and I, right? He invited you."

"Yeah, he did." Joel muses, a bit lost on his thoughts, "Think ya can keep your trap shut around him for dinner about this?"

"Think you can look him in the eye during dinner after this?" is your rebuttal, Joel looks a little embarrassed, a little bashful smile pulls on his mouth, his gaze flutters down, looking for something that's not on the floor, on the walls, anything to keep himself from meeting your eyes.

"Guess I'll figure it out." his hand finds your cheek, caresses the curve of your face, he sighs, a sound of longing. Joel pulls away from you, the distance already making his body ache, it's not lost on you, you kinda feel the same way.

But it's fine, it really is. You'll see him and Sarah later today, still, this is not over, whatever this is.

The man opens the door to your room, opening it so he can leave, "I'll see you later, then, doll." he says, but then he shoots you a glance of mock sternness to you, over his shoulder, "I'll still fuck the 'fine' outta you, ya hear?"

You laugh, shaking your head.

"Alright, old man."

And before he closes the door, you catch one last glance of him, for now.

You hope he does.

[bittersweetarts]

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 3)

Aemond Targaryen x You –  Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

Word count: 4307 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Angst, misogynistic behaviour (quite sexist), dubious consent

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 3: Dead of Night

Distracting yourself was easier than you expected, and this recognition made you feel sick. Though it was easier, it was not easy. Days have passed since Jayse’s brutal mauling, and the memories of that evening were too painful to remember. So, you tried your best to distract yourself, to numb your emotions.

During daytime, it was easier. You kept yourself busy with your duties, taking care of the Targaryen children, and you constantly offered to take on more. You found yourself taking over the Kitchens in a way, instructing the cooks which meals prepare. You also started accompanying the Queens everywhere, Queen Alicent in particular, by keeping her company during political engagements, as the cup bearer. Previously, this type of work did not interest you, nor were you needed. But now, you volunteered to do every possible task available. Prince Anything to derail your stream of consciousness. Prince Daeron whined about how busy you had become, and the children started clinging on to you more when you said goodbye.

At night, however, distracting yourself was difficult. Reading had become impossible, for you could not read a single paragraph without your mind wandering. You tried writing to your parents and your siblings, but what could you tell them? That you are in treacherous territory, and that you do not know if you will ever see them again? Though you loved each, or at least most of your siblings, you were still the invisible middle child, and they would not care even if you had asked for help. If one person in your family was forced to be sacrificed, you knew that you would not only be the chosen one, but also offered on a silver platter.

You tried other hobbies to pass time, such as embroidering, but instead found yourself tempted to stab the sharp needles into your brain. You considered drawing, poetry writing, even playing the flute you have not touched in years, but all of these options made the notion of self-slaughter appealing.

And so, you learned to sedate yourself.

You were never very fond of alcohol and only consumed it socially. But now, you found yourself drinking honey wine at night, until you felt drowsy. Your daily tasks now also included smuggling in a pitcher of the golden drink into your quarters, before nightfall, as now, you felt terrified of leaving your room after the sun had set. The wine did not make you forget per se, because sometimes, the thoughts still crept in. But the wine did help you sleep, as with it, you found that your dreams were empty, and conveniently, you also woke up too exhausted to think properly.

What helped most of all though, was that the cruel Prince Aemond was nowhere to be seen by you. The last time you saw the Prince was that awful evening, thankfully.

Normally, you do not particularly care about the day-to-day political affairs of the Royal Family and the Kingdom. Actually, care is not the correct term. You do care, but you know that politics is a dangerous place for women, as evident by the downfall of the late Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. A woman with a vocal opinion on current affairs beyond the privacy of her home, if even then, is threatening, and you had learned to care for subjects like history instead. Not as threatening, and just as important, in your opinion.

But having spent so much time serving Queen Alicent recently, you have passively been involved with politics, by consequence of attending countless of her meetings as cup bearer. It was here you learned that the Prince was not avoiding you out of curtesy, but rather out of necessity, at least for the security of the Kingdom.

Folk talk had spread throughout the land, as is unsurprising given that civil unrest can never truly be quashed. Word had spread that the outlawed Poor Fellows, a smallfolk army, has slowly been rebuilding itself, in protest of King Aegon II. The source of this uprise is a man from The Reach, claiming to be the Shepherd Reborn.

During the civil war, the Shepherd was a ‘prophet’ wildly followed by small folk and had preached against the late Princess Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne, which only served to benefit Aegon’s sovereignty. The Shepherd died during the war, and with him, his small but strong movement.

While this type of smallfolk army does not seem worrying, the new Shepherd has called for the overthrowing of King Aegon II, citing that the Doctrine of Exceptionalism was a political ploy devised by the Targaryens to deceive the pious, further claiming that corruption has plagued the leadership of the Faith for generations now.

The Doctrine of Exceptionalism’s basic tenet allows for the incestuous marriages by House Targaryen to be religiously accepted, with the understanding that Targaryens were different from the men born in the Andalos of old, unlike the rest of us. Word of mouth has spread that the Poor Fellows new stationary location is in the Northern part of the Reach, around the Stoney Sept. Honestly, though admitting it aloud would be treasonous, you did believe this so-called Shepherd Reborn’s claim to be true (he, however, is unlikely to be a prophet, in your opinion).

This threat was heeded to be a serious matter, which is why the one-eyed Prince had been sent to deal with it. Naturally, the Prince’s solution involved his dragon and the burning of men. The issue was that he lacked a precise location to burn, so the Royal Family had decreed that noble houses in the nearby areas aid in the Prince’s search for the rebel stronghold, and this task had proven to not be quick.

Again, you tried to involve yourself in politics as little as possible. However, finding out that Prince Aemond would be preoccupied for at least the foreseeable future was welcoming information, because now, you knew that you could visit the Royal Infirmary without fear of repercussion.

You do not believe that you love Jayse, but you cannot say that for certain, because all of these days not knowing about his condition felt like pure torture. You worried for him greatly, but who could you even speak to? You were grateful that it seemed like somehow, no one had heard about your scandalous incident, despite it being known that the master of the law’s son was gravely injured. Though you had seen Jasper Wylde during many meetings attended by the Queen Alicent, the old man would not even look at you. But what could you say or do? You felt certain that at the very least, he knew that you were involved in his son’s predicament. If he did though, he never showed it, and instead acted as though you had never met.

You were not hurt by this though, because you were at fault. If you had never met Jayse, none of this would have ever happened. Or maybe it would have, just to someone else. Thinking about this made your stomach turn.

Evidently, you have come to possess a nervous disposition, especially since moving to King’s Landing (although you do feel that a certain monarch bears responsibility for this). Therefore your decision to visit Jayse at nightfall was a daunting notion. For one, being alone after dusk scared you now. You also have never been an outwardly rebellious child, so the idea of sneaking into the Infirmary to visit Jayse was scary to you, as you feared of being caught. But you had no one to ask to check on him, and you did not believe the Maesters would be kind if you asked to see him during the day, for who are you to them, but a random unwed lady.

And so, you found yourself across the Keep late at night, hooded in one of your more concealing cloaks. You have grown familiar with the grounds and did not expect to get lost. But you remained vigilant, and tried to avoid people at all costs, which was not very difficult. Any guard that saw you would seemingly ignore you, and the Keep lacked visitors at this time of year, as there were no upcoming events which would demand attendance.

Though the Royal Infirmary was not small, you knew where the critical ward was, and felt certain that Jayse would be tended to there. Conveniently, it also had many wide windows, which would help you find your opportunity to visit, when the attending Maester would eventually leave the room, for at least a moment. And so, you arrived, and hid yourself by one of windows, observing the room.

The room was empty, and it was quite dark, so it was difficult for you to see. But it was obvious that the ward was almost completely empty due to all of the vacant beds. You could also see only one Maester attending, and you thanked the Gods. If there was more than one, your plan would fall apart.

And so, you waited. For how long, you do not know. This was the first in many consecutive evenings that you were sober, which you felt acutely. Time passed very slowly, and you got to spend that time in intimate proximity with your thoughts. You felt incredible remorse and responsibility for what had happened, and you did not know what to do. So, you focused on observing the scene.

The beds were a distance away from the window and it was difficult to identify Jayse. There were a handful of patients, and through observation, you concluded that the bed closest to the entrance was Jayse. The injured person had their faced completely wrap, and while you knew little about medical practice, you assume that treating the face is something necessary for the young Wylde’s predicament.

You had grown weary and tired, and were about to abandon your endeavor, as you did not actually know if the Maester would leave, but they thankfully did. Seeing your opportunity, you practically sprinted to the entrance, in the dark, your hood falling off your head as you did. As you were about to enter, you heard your name called out, in a hostile tone. Your heart felt like it was about to burst as you turned around to face the source. There you saw the master of the laws, and he did not appear thrilled.

“Are you insipid,” He asked, but he did not give you a chance to respond. “Have you not done enough? Do you wish my son death?”

“Of course not!” You quietly cry out. You know that you are responsible, but you were here for Jayse’s sake, not yours.

“Well, that is what you are sentencing him to,” the old man spoke in an indignant tone. Walking up to you, he continued, spitefully. “If it was up to me, you would be sent to indentured servitude in the most repellant brothel in King’s Landing, as that is what a whore like you deserves.” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back, not willing to give the old man the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“But it is not up to me, and I am being unjustly silenced. Rest assured though, the Gods provide, and you will receive your just deserts eventually,” the man ruthlessly finished, his voice filled with righteousness.

“Will he survive?” You ask softly, looking up at him.

Something momentarily shifted in the council member’s face, and he briefly answered you, before pushing past, and into the ward.

“Yes, but his face will never be the same, and neither will he presumably.” Before entering the ward, he finished, with his back towards you. “You are never to come here again to see him, or any other Wylde ever again. If you, I solemnly swear that it will be you that is permanently changed.”

You were hurt but you knew that this was the least of what you deserved it. Oddly, you felt a sense of relief, knowing that Jayse is not dead, and that you understood your position now with the Wylde family. You also knew that you had to send a letter to your parents, informing them that the courting will definitely not proceed, disappointing them yet again.

You expected to cry, but nothing came out. You truly felt numb, almost like a ghost, and you wondered whether you had transformed into one as you haunted through the hallways back to your chambers.

As you entered into your room, closing the door behind you, you slipped off your cape, setting it down on to the nearest surface. You were practically lost in your thoughts and did even realise that the candles in your room were lit, despite you having put them out before leaving.

It was here where you wished most that you were a ghost, because as you glance up at your room, you discover an unwelcome visitor sat on the bench by the window, arms crossed and legs apart the way that many men do.

The room was deathly silent, and you felt detached, like a spectator watching rather than someone actually living in the moment. Wide eyed, you wrap your arms around yourself, as if that would protect you.

The one-eyed Prince was the one to break this silence first, his voice seething. You flinch as he begins speaking.

“I have had a trying week. Was out in a shit hole for days. Burned many men, cut off some tongues,” he pauses for a moment. His voice projected across the room, to where you were, and that seemed to irritate him.

“Come,” the Prince says as he stands up, opening his arms towards you as he takes a few steps forward. You shake your hair fervently, scared. You do not know his intentions, but feel certain that they are neither good nor safe.

The one-eyed Prince repeats your name, impatiently this time. “Come here.” He takes a few more strides, but stops mid-way, waiting for you. You still shake your head though, and back up against the wall. There was no point in running away, but you were not going to run towards him either. The fact that he even potentially thought you would was ridiculous.

Sighing, it was now Prince Aemond who shook his head, annoyed by your stubbornness.

“And what of your promises? I suppose there is nothing keeping me from visiting our friend then.” His threat was unambiguous, and the words of the council member echoed in your mind.

“Do you wish my son death?”

Shaking, you take slow steps towards the Prince, who opens his arms again as you reach him. As you approach to him, he takes your arms, as if you were a child’s doll, and fixes them around his waist, before proceeding to embrace you firmly. In contrast, your arms hung loosely around him. With his chin resting on your head, he continued speaking, in a lower volume now.

“As I was saying, I have had a trying week, but I dealt with the matter, and finally got to leave that shit hole today. But much to my relief, I also happened to miss tonight’s family supper as well– rather difficult to be joyful when one is hungry as well.”

You feel the weight lift off your head, and a hand tilt you chin up. As you look up at him, and see his sharp violet eye, the pupil completely constricted, you know that it is better not to speak, for his monologue has clearly not ended.

“Imagine my dismay, nay my distress. I decide to surprise you with a visit, and discretely come into your chambers, only to discover it empty, at this hour of the night.” His tone was theatrically wicked, and it scared you. As he briefly pauses, his hand shifts to softly capture your neck, and it sits their menacingly.

“Pray tell, what could possibly keep you so busy at such a late hour?”

As he smiled at you, you could not help but almost admire how sinister it was, a complete antithesis to the very nature of what a smile is. Not waiting for your response, Prince Aemond continues.

“Surely it cannot be my loving mother or gentle sister, for they had retired to bed long ago. Neither could it be my niece or nephews, as I saw with my own eye, the babes asleep in their chambers, on their own, with guards securing them. My brothers are out committing debaucheries, the kind which I doubt you can even imagine.” As he spoke the last sentence, his grip around your throat tightened, and you could feel his nails. Normally, you would be crying, but your emotions had failed you, so instead, you had a blank face, which only served further to infuriate the callous Prince.

“As I sat here, for quite a while mind you, I contemplated where you could be, what a lady of your standing could possibly be doing.” He paused for a moment, loosening his grip. Your mouth had gone dry, and you felt like you were about to choke.

“For a moment, I thought perhaps you had another lover?” The Prince’s eye darkened as he said that.

“No, that is not correct, for you are not that emotionless. No, you are the very opposite. I know you still care for our friend.” The indirect mention of Jayse brought back the light in your eyes, which Aemond saw, and his tone became even more agitated.

“Yes, you still care for that pest. But surely, you would not be foolish enough to visit him.”

As Aemond spoke, his face inched closer to yours, and you could feel his breath on your face. You realised that he knew, and your stomach sank completely. He had been gone for days, and you felt certain that he would not be back for a couple more. How were you so wrong?

You didn’t know what to say, because what could possibly calm him in such a state. You followed your instinct, as you did not know better. Softly closing your eyes, you incline forward so that your lips would meet his, except this time, the Prince leaned back, catching you off guard. His hand was still loosely position at your throat, and moved as you did, so as not to hurt you. Opening your eyes, slightly startled, you could still see the anger still manifest in his expression, though slightly dimmed. So, you swayed forward again, only for the Prince veer from you again.

Prince Aemond melodically hummed in disapproval while lifting your head from your neck, so that you faced him again.

“That will not work again,” the Prince smiled ominously. “Do tell me though, I really am intrigued. What have you been doing out so late?”

“I went for a walk.” You say blankly.

“You went for a walk?” As the Prince responded, his face twisted in contempt. The hand around your waist swift deviated to your buttocks, hoisting you up against him, and you let out a short, sharp cry. Your hands quickly moved to his chest, and you tried to push him away, but he firmly held on to you.

“Do not mock me. I know where your walk led you, I can see it in your face.” His breath was warm as he spoke, his face menacing. “What am I to do with you? Perhaps with each of your indiscretions, I should send you a piece of him? I do love giving gifts.” Your eyes widened at that.

“Please, my Grace.”

“So that is what you want?” Misinterpreting your words, the Prince pulled back, and you felt your heart fasten again.

“No!” You almost yell, grabbing hold of an arm. You did not know what to do, so you started ranting. “I will not see him, I will do as you say, please, you have my word– just do not do that to me. Just tell me what you want!”

With a sad smile, Aemond turned to face you and responded.

“I want you, as I have shown you countless times, and I thought that I already your word.”

Indignantly yet ashamed, you answer back. “You say that you want me, that you care for me, yet your actions do not show it. Tell me, if any lord or man has treated me as you have, would you think that I deserve it?” As you finish, you put a hand onto his chest, near his heart.

“My sweet lady, I am not any lord or man. You know who I am.”

“Then show Jayse mercy. Not for him, for me.” You beg again, taking his free hand, and holding it up to your face, you then proceed to gently place a kiss on his knuckles, and he surveys you attentively, as if trying to commit this moment to memory.

Any fragment of pride that you possessed was gone, and you knew that you had nothing left in your power, except one thing could offer as a woman. Except that once you give it up, you would be without power again, except this time, completely. It was here, you understood that none of this mattered. So, you pulled his hand back onto your throat, and spoke vehemently.

“If you want to kill someone, kill me.”

At that, the one-eyed Prince froze and pulled back from you entirely. At first, he stepped back from you, and then started pacing. You watched him whilst trying to steady your breathing. You prepared for him to end you, and morbidly, you were curious how he would do so. Eventually, Prince Aemond he sat on the edge of your bed, and stared down at the floor. It was silent until he coarsely whispered.

“Stop this.”

His voice brimmed with malaise, and a wave of sympathy washed over you. Sighing, you approached him, voluntarily this time. Going down on your knees, you positioned yourself in front of the Prince and took hold of his hands. His eye was still staring wide at the floor, and you wanted to scream at him to look at you. But you wouldn’t, so you squeezed his hand tightly for a moment, before responding softly.

“All right.”

At that, Aemond looked at you in disbelief. Neither of you felt like you won, and instead, it felt feel like the two of you had reached at an impasse. This was a better outcome than you could have ever expected.

Standing up, Prince Aemond pulled you to your feet as well, and reached into the pocket of his trousers. He then pulled out a small brown package, and placed it gently into your arms. Confused, you cocked your head and ask.

“What is this?”

Exhaling, the Prince responded quietly, almost uncharacteristically. “Something I found whilst scouting one of the small towns on foot. Open it.”

Gently unwrapping the parcel, you see a beautiful blood-coloured gemstone attached to an intricate chain. As you lift the necklace to get a better view of it, you drop it, but the Prince’s quick reflexes manage to catch and save the piece. You expected him to chastise or mock you for dropping the item, but instead, the Prince smirked, amused.

“May I?” He asks, whilst holding the chain up. Looking up at him, you faintly nod, lifting your hair up with your hands. The Prince then walked around and stood closely behind you. Putting his arms over you, he sets the pendant against your chest, gently positioning pressing it down, and then pulled the chain back, clasping it behind your neck. As he did, you could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, and the sensation made your skin prickle. Pulling your hands from your hair, he brushed your hair down and spun you around. Giving you a glance over, while tracing a finger on your chest, around the chain, he looked at you and commented.

“Beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly, looking down at his rough hands, which you held. Glancing at the discarded wrapping paper that had fallen to the ground, you could not stop yourself from asking.

“Is this why you came to visit me?” As you looked back up, Prince Aemond rigidly nodded. Though the night had been fraught, this had lifted you spirits. Whilst definitely improper, this was the first gift you received from anyone of the opposite sex to whom you were not related to, and you felt a wave of girlish giddiness fleetingly pass.

You knew that you had a reached a positive end to your interaction and the evening, yet you still worried. You do not doubt that that the Prince is cunning and duplicitous, while the gift was indeed kind, and he was in a seemingly good mood, you also knew that you cannot trust him and that he cannot be trusted.

His threats were still fresh in your memory, and you were not willing to risk Jayse’s life by letting the Prince do as he has expressly said he wishes. You were now about to cross a line there was no coming back from, and you knew that everything would change for you after this. But you did so anyway, because really, things were already not the same, so did it really matter? If your luck persists, no one may ever even know.

Stepping backwards towards your bed, you pull on the Prince’s hand. “Stay with me.”

Prince Aemond hesitates, holding his ground. “I do not think that it is a good idea, my Lady, I–”

“Stay with me,” you repeat yourself more adamantly now, interrupting him. “I know this is not as you imagine, and I am not ready to do anything, but stay with me, please.”

Sighing, the Prince gives in, and follows you into bed.

Author’s Note: I am almost completely positive that it is not canon, but I’ve decided that the people of King’s Landing and Westeros eat dinner at about seven pm after sunset, and head to bed soon after. The timings are a little wonky, I know, but I pictured the final scene happening a little after midnight.

As usual, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This time I managed to restrain myself from immediately posting and spent some time proofreading, so hopefully there are less grammatical errors.

Chapter 4

Tags: @girl-obsessed-with-things 

[andicareaboutyou]

14/30/88 for the silvacre fluff prompt? 💕🌸

Thank you @missmilla! I started writing for all three prompts and will post them over time. Here you go with a quick one for #30. This was fun to write.

>>

Vigil had changed Amy. Kirsten could feel it in the way Amy included her in plans, a clear sign of Amy’s growing comfort with their relationship. Kirsten could hear it in the softness of Amy’s voice when she spoke of her dreams and concerns, now more trusting and open. She could see it when Amy courageously struggled to find words for her feelings, using her hands to draw patterns into the air, fascinatingly expressive. She could feel it in the steady, reassuring touch of her hand during their occasional evening walks.

But Kirsten could also sense it in the way Amy held her just a bit tighter every time they went different ways in their cars. She could hear the concern in Amy’s voice when she finally got hold of Kirsten after a missed call. She could feel it in the way Amy wrapped her arms around her before falling asleep, possessive and protective at once. And Kirsten could see it time and again in the middle of the night, when she padded back into the bedroom and found Amy with eyes wide open and knees to her chest.

“What’s wrong, Amy?” Kirsten asked the first time it happened, with a voice that had nighttime written all over it, but a mind highly alert.

But Amy didn’t know how to explain, and she was only able to relax with Kirsten snuggled back in bed with her, her gentle touch calming Amy’s racing heart.

It took Amy time to find the words, and Kirsten was patient, both women having learned from previous mistakes and trying to do right by each other. And when Amy finally did share – another night, another eyes-wide open fearful moment – “I … I’m scared. Really scared. That one day you’ll walk out the door and never come back”, Kirsten just held her, placing soft kisses in her hair, and repeating over and over again, “I will always come back to you.” And Amy allowed herself to cry curled up in Kirsten’s embrace.

When Amy woke up alone the following morning, her heart thrummed in her throat and her eyes went wide with a familiar fear. But from the corner of her eye, she saw a colorful piece of paper on Kirsten’s pillow. Come down for coffee it said in Kirsten’s familiar handwriting with a small heart in the corner.

Amy smiled at the piece of paper and felt her pulse calm. She could also smell the coffee in the making and the faint shuffle of activity in the kitchen, familiar sounds her fear had tuned out. Exhaling a deep sigh of relief, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She grabbed her glasses and put the piece of paper into her night drawer, not without another glance at the heart and another smile at the thoughtful action.

When Amy pattered down the stairs, she could see Kirsten fiddling in the kitchen, busily preparing breakfast for the two of them. Her sleepy greeting earned her an amused smile over Kirsten’s shoulder and for a moment Amy just stood by the counter watching Kirsten’s hands in motion.

When they paused in their movement, Amy felt Kirsten’s eyes on her, inquisitive and kind. “Thanks,” was all she needed to say for Kirsten’s eyes to light up and for her to lean in for a kiss.

“Anytime,” Kirsten responded with a light nose nuzzle before bringing her attention back to the cutting board. “Now, are you ready for breakfast?”

Over the course of a few weeks, Amy found notes like these anytime Kirsten had to disappear without a chance of letting Amy know. In the evenings, when Amy came home to a quiet house, there would be a colourful piece of paper on the fridge with Kirsten’s whereabouts. When at work, it would sometimes be a text or a post it on her monitor with a location and an ETA of her return. In the mornings, it would be a piece of paper Amy got to neatly tuck to the collection in her drawer.

The nights, though, worried Kirsten most of all. Amy’s anxiety was most apparent then. It didn’t happen often that Kirsten needed to get up in the middle of the night, but when it did, she would inevitably find Amy wide awake upon her return, no matter how deeply asleep she had been just a few minutes before. Kirsten started to take precautions – she wouldn’t head into the kitchen anymore to get a glass of water when she woke up thirsty at night. Instead, she decided to keep a glass standing next to the bed – a simple solution to a recurring problem.

But she couldn’t do much about nature’s call, and so Kirsten was apprehensive the first night she left a note on her pillow that simply said bathroom with a smiley face, hoping Amy would see it in the dark if she woke up, which Kirsten knew was almost inevitable at this point.

And that night Amy did wake up. She couldn’t tell if it was a sound Kirsten had made, or the movement of the mattress, or the empty spot next to her, but Amy woke up, like she always did. This time, though, she saw the note on the pillow before panic set in. At first she looked at it in sleepy confusion, and then a smile spread on her face, recognizing the gesture.

That was the moment Kirsten stepped back into the room and paused at the door, seeing Amy awake in the faint moonlight, but with a smile instead of a fearful expression. “Ah. That’s better,” she hummed as she crawled next to her and placed a gentle kiss on Amy’s forehead before both of them fell back asleep.

The new habit continued, and with a growing pile of notes in her bedside drawer, Amy noticed how her fear seemed to subside a little more with every passing day. It was funny, it was cute, it was reassuring, and Amy loved Kirsten a little more with every note.

But she also started to worry that this might spin out of control. Kirsten was a fiercely independent woman and having to report on her every leave and absence might be part of the job, but certainly not her personal life, and navigating the delicate balance of their professional and personal relationship was challenging enough without Amy’s OCD. So she worried that carrying her fears into their relationship might drive Kirsten mad at some point.

She was still wondering how to bring this up a few days later, when Kirsten woke her at the crack of dawn with butterfly kisses all over her face. Still half-asleep Amy yawned and tried to shield her tired self from Kirsten’s annoying and yet adorable morning energy. “What’s going on? It’s not my birthday, is it?”

Kirsten seated herself cross-legged next to Amy, smiling down at her and her fingers playing with the seam of Amy’s shirt. “No, no it’s not your birthday, but I do think we can celebrate.”

“What do you mean?” It was too early for Amy to follow Kirsten’s train of thought. “If you don’t have a coffee by your side to help my braincells function, you better explain.”

Kirsten held up five colorful pieces of paper and explained how Amy didn’t wake up on five consecutive occasions over the past two weeks. Kirsten smiled at her with so much affection, that Amy couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth and appreciation wash over her, and all – she glanced at the clock – before 5:30 in the morning.

“Do you know what this means?” Kirsten asked her expectantly.

“That you have ants in your pants and can’t sleep through the night?” Amy raised her eyebrow.

Kirsten punched Amy’s shoulder with her first, eliciting a pained “Ouch” and laughter from Amy, before exclaiming with a bright smile, “It’s working!”

Amy cupped Kirsten’s cheek and tenderly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She remained silent, wondering if it could be true, and wondering, too, how she felt about the possibility of Kirsten not leaving the notes anymore if this was working indeed.

Lost in her thoughts and Kirsten’s adorable beauty so close to her, she felt Kirsten’s fingertips tapping her chin, luring Amy’s attention back to Kirsten’s eyes. “I won’t stop the notes, Amy,” Kirsten said with a wink. And Amy felt like she should have known Kirsten would see right through her.

Caught in the act, a sheepish grin crossed Amy’s face – less grouchy and more awake, before a frown came over her and she finally broke her silence in a subdued voice. “Look, I know I’m still so fucking broken and I don’t want you to … to feel controlled by me and my fears and worries.” She hesitated, not sure how to find the right words at this early hour.

Kirsten observed the changing expressions on Amy’s face attentively before she released her from the pressure of elaborating any further, and responded “I don’t feel controlled.”

Kirsten took Amy’s hand and placed a kiss on the inside of her palm. “It’s how I help you heal.” She looked Amy in the eyes, seeking her full attention. “And you need to know, Amy, you are more than you think of yourself. You’re everything to me.”

Kirsten made loving her so easy, she made trusting her simple. Kirsten had utter confidence that Amy could conquer her demons, a confidence Amy wasn’t always sure she shared, and Kirsten proved day by day that she would be right by her side all along the way.

“Give me these notes,” Amy said with a slap on Kirsten’s thigh, as she grabbed them from a surprised Kirsten and stuffed them into her drawer.

“You kept them all?” Kirsten exclaimed as she leapt over Amy’s chest to take a look at the drawer and grab a few to see for herself.

Amy shrugged her shoulders underneath Kirsten’s weight. “They are cute!”

“You big softie!” Kirsten exclaimed with a warm laugh, then placed a wet kiss on Amy’s nose before hopping off her side of the bed to make some coffee and get their day started.

[ceilidho]

I need the ghost x reader plane crash fic injected straight into my veins please and thank you, I go feral over possessive ghost

That’s the next ghost/reader prompt I’ll be working on so ur in luck 😈 this weekend I’m hoping to write a short ghostsoap fic and then plane crash fic.

I keep thinking of a scene where ghost has to scare off a bear or a couple wolves and it makes him start instinctively thinking of you as his mate that he has to defend 😵‍💫

maybe you have to pee in the middle of the night and you try to get up and sneak off into the woods to relieve yourself in private but then suddenly this over 200lbs soldier has you pinned to the ground by your shoulder. Woke him up out of a dead sleep and he thought something was trying to take you and he just holds you in place and snarls at you to stay put

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat AU masterlist

TLLR masterlist

i have a bunch of AU ideas so here’s where i’ll put them!! :P this will probably get very unorganized very quickly. if anything doesn’t have a link to it, it’s because it’s been a WIP for a long long time and i still haven’t finished it yet…

Misc / oneshot AUs:

Basil lives AU: takes place directly after chapter 8. Basil doesn’t die and Anton gets to introduce them to Dew!

Anton lets Dew go AU: takes place somewhere between chapter 10 and 11. After the passing of his best friend, Anton suddenly has a change of heart and decides to let Dew go.

Interactive AUs:

TLLR CYOA: Anton decides to choose you as his new test subject! Whatever will you do?

part one // part two // part three // part four // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11

AUs:

🐹 Borrower Basil AU: Instead of a little talking mouse, Basil is a tiny, 4 inch tall borrower living in the walls home to a reclusive scientist. She gets caught, like all borrowers do, but instead of being put in a cage and experimented on like she thought, her and Anton actually become friends! Years later, Basil is working alongside Anton, as his little lab assistant helping with whatever strange and bizarre experiments he comes up with.

art // picrews // part 1 (coming soon)

🛸 Alien Abduction AU: Dew and his best friend (and crush), Hayden, are walking alone one night and find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time as they are beamed up into a curious alien’s spaceship. Anton (the alien) is fascinated by humanity and wants to learn as much as he can about his new test subjects in the only way he knows how: unethical experimentation! Hayden had always loved aliens, space, and the supernatural, and is adamant on somehow befriending the alien. Dew is scared out of his mind and wants nothing but to escape and go home to Earth, but can’t stand the idea of abandoning his best friend in the vast, infinite abyss of space.

art // part 1 (coming soon-ish)

🦇 Vampire Dew AU: When Dew was turned into a vampire, he had no choice but to run away from his old life. He couldn’t bear to let his friends see him this way, now that he’s bloodthirsty and wanted for murder. He wanders among an empty forest, a safe place to hide. But he has no idea of the scientist lurking in the shadows, who had been looking for a new test subject for a long time, and who has so many plans for the vampire who walked right into his trap.

art // picrews // part 1 // part 2 (coming eventually)

🧵 Borrower!Dew AU: Dew lived in a tiny dollhouse in a local craft store owned by his best friend and the only human who knew he was a borrower. That was until one day when Anton wanted to buy something nice for Basil, and chose a cute little house that was the perfect size for his mouse to hang out in. Dew woke up in the night being brought to Anton’s cabin, realizing that someone had bought the small house he had been sleeping in. Dew escapes the first chance he gets without being seen, but avoiding a mad scientist and his mouse friend in a cabin in the middle of the woods is far more challenging that Dew had thought. (also Anton definitely catches him and gets super excited about his new lab rat. a tiny little mouse boy Dewey…)

🌀 Vampire!Anton AU: An AU where Anton enthralls Dew. But he also enthralls Aspen! And me! And you! Might just write something for all four of those scenarios, I have no idea yet, but I desperately need a possessive gentle vampire Anton to hypnotize someone and suck their blood soooo bad. It would heal me. Putting it here to force me to write something eventually.

🍄 Fae AU: Anton’s a lonely faerie with a fascination with the human world when he one day finds a lone, hurt human in his woods named Dew. He feels bad for the human and cares for it, tending to its wounds, feeding it and treating it like you would an injured animal. It’s also quite cute, and Anton has never seen anything like it before. He decides to keep it, it will be safe with him, after all.

🥼 Role Reversal AU: A role reversal AU created by @vidawhump where Dew is a scientist alongside his friends and their goal is to make all sorts of cool body modifications possible and safe. But he needs a test subject, so he kidnaps Anton from his reclusive home in the woods and secretly experiments on him. Anton is extremely defiant and sassy, wanting to escape and get home to his animal friends, Basil and Sasha, however he can.

Crossover AUs:

🌲 TLLR x UARAD crossover: A TLLR x UARAD crossover AU where Anton “rescues” Ruaridh after they were abandoned in the woods, and brought them to his lab to be a new test subject. Ruaridh and Dew become roommates, and they also become friends because they both are so incredibly lonely. Ru is also an unhinged creature who doesn’t have much of a memory. Hijinks ensue. (Ruaridh and Uilebheist A Rinn An Duine belong to @inkwell-and-dagger)

🦉 The Owl House AU: Anton is a witch in the boiling isles and finds a lost human named Dew who stumbled in through his portal. He decides to keep him and help train him to be a witch.

⚠️ Gravity Falls AU: Anton meets a weird triangle demon in his dreams and agrees to make a strange portal to other dimensions for it! nothing will go wrong.

also i am 100% open to crossover aus with other stories! please feel free to ask :D

[usernoneexistent]

Challenge: All You need is love @hp-12monthsofmagic

A/N: I don't know what demon possessed me but I wrote this in like two days and then she had the audicatity to ask me to draw not just one but four drawings however o realised that I didn't have the time so here it is. So, Zola is tired from living with a loveless home but a simple letter from someone special is exactly what she needed.

Warnings: swearing, verbal abuse, child neglect, classism, no romance but angst with a hopeful ending

The night was cooling down London from the Summer heat earlier. The sun lingered around longer despite it being close to midnight. Zola wasn't even doing anything exciting, just hanging around the council block playground before a group of older kids from the block took over. She was smart enough to know when to move out of the way.

Instead she opted for walking aimlessly through her neighbourhood in the borough of London. Children screaming happily, ice cream vans and teens on their bikes filled the Summer night.

Zola had spent most of her summer either writing to her best friend, Tarra or seeing if Michael, a guy from her block was free. None of her old mates from primary wanted to hang out with the girl going to 'boarding school'. Like all of a sudden she has become one of those snobs from the West end.

And staying home wasn't an option for her. Auntie Gracie-Mae and uncle Andrew weren't exactly fun company either. They barely tolerated her presence so why stay any longer. Though now she figured would be a good time to head back to their council flat.

Zola waltzed back in without care that she made loud noise in the middle of the night. The TV was blarring in the background anyway. As she stomped pass the crack of the living room door where uncle Andrew has been sitting there since he woke up in the afternoon.

"Zola! What did I say about slamming the door?!" He yelled, slurring his words. The bastard was drunk and Auntie Gracie-Mae was off on the night shift.

She hated being alone with the slob. He didn't do anything but watch TV, eat, yell and sleep. Andrew was too lazy to even get out of the sofa.

"What did you say, you little bitch!" He yelled louder, grunting from the sofa.

"Fuck you, Andrew!" Zola slammed the door again. 

"I said fuck you!" Zola repeated before marching to her bedroom, slamming another door. She grabbed a chair to lock her door before letting frustrated groan to the pillow. Remnants of her makeup remained on the pillow. 

She looked at the news articles that she had converted as posters. All these cursebreakers free and full of fun and adventure. That's all she wanted, every Summer felt like a prison with them. Her father doesn't bother writing but her brother, Jeremiah did occasionally send an owl but ultimately she was all alone.

She clutched the pillow, hugging it tightly. No one wanted her. Zola was alone in this miserable apartment. Angry or sad tears, Zola wasn't sure threaten to leave her eyes.

"Everyone sucks." She muttered.

Zola wished she had a normal family or as normal as she could get. She was jealous of Tarra, her parents there for everything and even her cousin, Duncan. Yeah, he would moan about his father but it was clear that he wanted to be there for him. Her parents never did that for her. Her father decided robbing Gringotts was worth more than her and her mother...well she probably took one look at Zola and noped out.

A knock on her window brought her out of her own self pity party. A barn owl was outside with a letter inbetween her beak. She knew that owl immediately; Tori, Tarragon's owl.

Zola let in the owl and took the letter. Her fingers fumbled to open it quickly. She scanned each word meticulously, soaking in everything.

"Damn you, Tarra." Zola cracked a wide grin. "Always know how to make my day."

The timing couldn't have been any better. Tarra was inviting her to Scotland to stay with her and Duncan for a while. Without much thought, Zola grabbed whatever she felt she needed and stuffed it into a bag. Including her secret stash of gallons, sickles and knuts. 

She boldly strutted past Andrew with new found confidence.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business, not like you ever care." Zola opened the front door. "Oh and I may never come back. You can tell Auntie Gracie-Mae that."

Andrew looked startled through the door before Zola slammed the door one last time.

Before Zola could change her mind a gust of wind before a royal purple triple decker bus was infront of her.

She looked for a secluded road before putting her wand hand up in the air. She felt stupid but she was sure this was how she could get the knight bus.

"You comin' on?"

Zola blinked before registering what was going on. A man in a purple uniform and a worn out soldiers cap

"Right."

She hopped on, paying eleven sickles for a ticket and told her destination to the Tentsmuir, Scotland. The man was the conductor who welcomed her aboard and showed about.

Metal beds in rows took up majority of the space. Some curtains were closed from other passengers. The few who hadn't closed their curtains stared at the fourteen year old. Zola simply gave a glare back in retaliation and chucked her bag onto the bed.

She closed the curtains for privacy and pulled out the smooshed letters from Tarra. Every letter of Tarra telling her she missed her best friend and was lonely without her when she was in Romania, England or Scotland. While Zola doubt that Tarra would ever feel lonely surrounded by animals a her words filled her heart more than any snogging with Michael ever did.

At some point, Zola's body finally caved into to sleep after staying up for so long. Though when she woke up, she felt her neck sore and the letters spread on stomach and chest.

The bus halted to a forceful stop. Her letters flew off the bed and her bag rolled to the middle of the floor.

"We have arrived at Tentsmuir." The conductor announced. "Thanks for taking the Knight bus, we hope you had a pleasant stay."

It was a beautiful sight of the sunrise along if the forest behind where she could find the stone cottage. She walked through the patches of grass with hope that she could gain a new home.

Zola hurriedly grabbed everything and stumbled out the bus. It left immediately leaving her at a muggle road. She covered her eyes as the stream of sunlight of the sun rising beamed in her face.

[that-dinopunk-guy]

The Crocodile Tamers

This is a little dinopunk story I wrote in like...2014 or 2015. Nobody read these little stories when I was putting them online, but they were fun to write.

Feyza Okur woke to the deep ringing of the temple’s bell, calling its faithful to morning prayer. All around her, other travelers were beginning to stir. Looking around in the gloomy dawn light she saw wandering Jardhu ascetics, sprawled leisurely on the floor without any worldly possessions or, in some cases, clothes to keep track of. She saw less seasoned travelers stretching stiff joints, their packs still dented in the middle from where they’d rested their heads during the night. And she saw those like herself, seasoned roamers and sellswords, who’d slept sitting against the wall with their belongings clutched protectively in their laps, ready to leap awake and deal with any would-be thieves. They surely all knew as well as she did that the chances of being robbed in this place were so low as to border on negligible, but old habits were hard to break.

Feyza grunted as she stood and stretched her legs before she moved to follow the line of faithful out to the edge of the Opthalm Sea. She did not worship this faith’s chosen gods; Basrandur was a chiefly Saumadhi religion, and Feyza was Garacani. She was a follower of the Hundredfold Path, as evinced by the way she wore her long hair in nearly a hundred thin braids and then gathered up into a topknot that made her head resemble a brown and black pineapple. Like many of her fellow travelers, she was joining the temple’s faithful not to pray, but to bathe.

The sun was still below the horizon when Feyza reached the wide steps that led directly to the edge of the water, but the western sky was already a tranquil shade of pink and the undersides of feathery clouds were shining brightly high overhead. Long-tailed, snaggle-toothed dactyls wheeled and dove over the water on long narrow wings, snatching up any fish unable to retreat to safer depths in time. Feyza moved off to the side, away from the worshipers, so she could go about her business without getting in the way of their ritual greeting to the day.

Fat crocodiles sprawled on the steps, with more emerging from the water in anticipation of the arrival of the sun. Though many of the other travelers balked at the sight of the animals, the worshipers gave them no notice and, indeed, passed among them unmolested. Feyza, along with the other veteran wanderers, did likewise. They knew they had nothing to fear; these crocodiles had long ago been pampered into docility by the monks of the temple, kept well fed by handouts so that they had no need to prey upon the human flock. It was, the monks said, proof that with the proper guidance any being had the potential to overcome its more violent impulses. If these crocodiles could adopt a life of peace, they argued, then surely men could as well.

It certainly made for a nice story, but Feyza suspected that certain details had been omitted. She wondered how many people had died, and how many crocodiles had been killed in retaliation, before the monks had successfully weeded out all but the most compliant specimens. In order to create an obedient population, one must first purge any signs of resistance and aggression. That lesson too had applications in the human world, she thought.

Leaving her clothes with her other belongings on the steps and oblivious to any curious stares from the other travelers, Feyza waded up to her waist into the cold water of the inland sea. A crocodile lazily approached her, longer than she was tall, and she stopped to watch as it eyed her for a moment before apparently deciding that she had nothing for it to eat and swimming around her toward the steps. She watched it go, idly listening to the droning prayers of the Basrandur faithful, before she bent at the waist to dunk her head below the water.

The sun had cleared the horizon by the time Feyza was finished bathing, and as she climbed the steps out of the water the temple’s façade burned against the dawn sky like flame made stone. Still naked, she sat down dripping among the crocodiles while the sun slowly burned away the morning chill. Off to her right the prayers rose to a crescendo as the worshipers bid the sun another day’s safe journey through the heavens. When Feyza was satisfied that she was sufficiently dried, she picked herself up and began to get dressed. Dressed again, Feyza slung the roll containing her belongings over her shoulder and made sure the painted chit was where she had left it in a pocket hidden in her belt. Weapons were forbidden inside the temple, and she would need that token in order for hers to be returned to her. And then, having armed herself once more, she could go out into the city to find herself some work.

[dalchiid]

I woke up in the middle of the night, couldn’t sleep, discovered chapter 17 of Covetous in one of my saved tags, started reading it, finished the chapter, couldn’t get enough, started reading chapter 16, finished that too, and instantly knew I had to read everything from the beginning. Can I just say the way you write is absolutely brilliant. Even though I read chapters 17 and 16 first, I still failed to noticed how Hoseok had y/n completely wrapped around his pretty little fingers the moment he laid eyes on her (until of course it was too late and she had already fallen into his trap). And how he completely fooled the Baek’s (even bringing his brothers into the plan) to get y/n exactly where he wanted her. I’m so amazed that after reading all 17 chapters I went back to re-read all the interactions between Hoseok and y/n to see if I missed anything. The details you incorporated of his facial expressions, and even his actions when he wasn’t the main focus of the scene. Although it’s more obvious once you realize Hoseok’s plan was a success, it’s fascinating to see how completely subtle yet precise he was with executing his plan. Truly a sheep in wolf’s clothing who constantly waited for the perfect moment to pounce on his prey time and time again. Right from chapter 1 your allusion and foreshadowing to Hoseok’s plan is impeccable. For example, when I found out about the saliva, Seokjin’s statement about Hoseok being “good at changing the minds of others” was delightful to recall, it felt like finding a little Easter egg. And there’s so many “aha” moments like that sprinkled throughout the story. I want to kiss your brain so bad.

I’m curious to know where y/n’s new motivations will stem from now, besides escaping of course. The biggest catalyst for her past actions was “fear of Hyun-woo finding out”. Well now that he’s out of the picture I guess she’ll be moving with a “fear of Hoseok finding out”. I’m also curious to know more about Hoseok’s relationships with his brothers and how that will affect his relationship with y/n. Seokjin and Jungkook are obviously well aware of who she belongs to (seeing as they were in on the whole plan) and don’t seem to have the same saliva + mind control powers. However, what of the others? Especially troublemaker Jimin hahah. Though I doubt Hoseok feels threatened towards him the way he did with Hyun-woo. I also don’t think any of his brothers would dare try to steal what’s his (seeing as they all respect one another enough to never keep secrets) but it’s fun to think about the possible implications of them exacerbating Hoseok’s possessiveness and obsession of y/n even more.

I love this story so much and I am very much looking forward to chapter 18’s release. Thank you for writing such a masterpiece! Take care and I hope you’re having an amazing day when you read this <3

Oh my god you're so sweet 🥺 Everything you typed out means a lot to me as a writer and I really appreciate it.

As for the brothers, without giving up too much information, each one has something about them that we're not going to like. Jungkook with his disinterest with helping someone in need of help and ultimately enabling Hoseok to do as he pleases along with Seokjin. Yoongi was confused but ultimately didn't care and just went along with whatever Hoseok said. The only one that has shown a lick of something negative is Taehyung when he goes from excited to meeting Y/N to something else when Jimin mentions she's Hoseok's "girlfriend." His story will flesh out more in future chapters as well as the rest of the group. As for Jimin he's done a lot of things he shouldn't have done and it's why he's considered the troublemaker. He's still doing said things and Y/N will find out the truth about him at some point. I've planted two important bits of information about him throughout the story but it'll make sense soon enough. And everyone will learn more about the guys over time. In the quest for freedom Y/N is going to find out about a lot things she would rather have not known about.

Again though thank you so much 💜💜 I hope you have an amazing day too!

[inightcor]

A Wonderful Sleepless Night

Before I went to shower, I watched TikTok videos about some couple I ship and there was a fanfic that talked about them doing weird stuff. That delayed my shower time because I was curious about what the fanfic was talking about. Though, I only skimmed through the story because I want to fantasize about it and feel the excitement rush in me. I showered at 10 PM yesterday because I didn't have time to do it throughout the day. Though I was hoping that by showering, you become more energetic and not have the urge to sleep. And that speculation was true, I stayed up till 4 AM. I had to finish my APUSH notes, infact, I have to do double the work because I didn't do my APUSH read the day before yesterday. Back to showering, doing it at night felt quite serene. Listening to the gust of wind while water is pouring onto you is like dancing in the rain. At the same time, it was difficult to shower quickly because of the cold night and my bathroom window was open. Frankly, my parents never allowed me to stay out during rainfall because I would catch a cold, but I still see it as a once in a lifetime opportunity. After shower, I worked on homework. When doing my APUSH notes, my mind wanders to any other topic than APUSH, thanks to my low attention span. Thus, it was challenging to finish them. I took a break at 12:30 AM. I really wanted to read a fanfic for a long time (2 hours), That's what I was thinking about. This fanfic was based on an anime and its breaking my sanity because there are 2 boys who were enemies, but currently rivals. The fanfic writes about the two boys doing succulent things together o_-/ nevermind about that. So if you're wondering what is crushing my sanity and boosting my serotonin, it's all because of that fanfic. I don't need to explain more. I continued APUSH notes at 1:30 AM and my mind was hazy. My eyes continuously closes and I force myself to open them, which was a pain. I had to listen to music while doing notes to wake myself up. One real confession though: doing homework in the middle of the night is a vibe. Other than that "fanfic", what made serotonin levels rise high was the topic I was reading contained stockholm-syndrome, and my reaction to this was "why is this a history lesson?". Although the concept was so interesting, its like reading an actual novel. I finally finished my notes at 3AM and spent the rest of the hour reading that fanfic. That fanfic was so good that I repeated reading it twice and even read the other collections that linked to that. That really made my night. I had to be in school at 10 AM, so I went to sleep at ~4:15 AM. I thought I'd sleep the rest of the time, but I eventually woke up at 7 AM with enthusiasm. I couldn't go back to sleep afterwards. What's strange about this was I usually struggle to wake up after an 8 hour sleep and feel drowsy. Meanwhile, I slept for less than 3 hours that night and possessed so much energy than any other day. Maybe I should do this often.