#j.m. grant

[brownsugar4hersoul]

[gay-jewish-bucky]

I frequently talk about Arnie Roth here, Steve Roger's childhood best friend in the comics, and how he was taken and heavily incorporated into MCU Bucky, but with the very important context of his identity as gay and Jewish, which deeply impacts his story and without it that very important narrative loses all its meaning and impact, intentionally left out (along with many other marginalized characters).

I also talk about how his creator J.M. DeMatteis has spoken about how they took Arnie and the total lack of compensation or credit he has received.

Since the MCU is determined to erase Arnie Roth's identity, despite greatly benefiting from their use of his character in MCU Bucky, a great way to fight back against that erasure it is to include his ethnoreligious Jewish identity and his gay identity, both of which are integral to every aspect of his story, in your interpretation of him.

It's also important to learn about Arnie Roth engage with his story in its own right, as well as making it more widely known he's the basis of MCU Bucky.

[creepynostalgy]

Henry Hull in Werewolf Of London (1935)

[coollovebibliophilethings]

Murder and Mayhem in Muskego edited by Jon & Ruth Jordan

Title: Murder and Mayhem in MuskegoAuthor: Jon Jordan, Ruth Jordan, Megan Abbott, Dana Cameron, Reed Farrel Coleman, Hilary Davidson, Sean Doolittle, J.M. Edwards, Andrew Grant, Ted Hertel, Jr., Chris F. Holm, Brad Parks, Gary Phillips, Kat Richardson, Greg Rucka, Marcus Sakey, Tom Schreck, Nathan Banks, Zoe Sharp, Bryan VanMeter & Jeri WestersonIn: Murder and Mayhem in Muskego (Jon & Ruth…

[joeloverture]

snowbound | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog | ao3 mirror pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel is the only guy you know with four wheel drive in the rarely-snowy state of texas, so it seems like a no-brainer to have him pick you up from work — until his truck breaks down, leaving you two to the classic 'huddle for warmth' solution. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!joel, age gap (assumed 20s/40s), reader borrows joel's coat, but does not wear it and uses it as a blanket, self-indulgent humor & banter, joel has sarah and she's a 15y/o menace which means liberties are taken with the timeline, blink & miss it drug mention, close proximity, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, (mocking) dirty talk & dirty talk alluding to anal but no actual anal, daddy kink, degradation, dom!joel, brat!reader, brat tamer!joel, mild bondage (with a scarf), rearview mirror sex, clit stim, riding, doggy, a few pussy spanks, 2 spanks, truck sex, sort of edging, getting caught after the act [no use of y/n] word count: 12.3k a/n: this fic was a labor of love from a request i received earlier this month. i didn't expect it to be this long but i really enjoyed these two! massive massive massive shoutout to talia, @lovesickonmybed, for putting up with me + advising. this fic was way too much to handle on my own. they're the reason i pulled it off. joel is latino here, but i think game!joel can be interpreted as latino too, so read who you'd like.

“Looking ahead for our chances at wintry precipitation tonight – measurable snow, freezing rain, or sleet. It’s hard to get snow here in central Texas – if only, huh? We’re seeing some strong flurries tonight, turning into snow showers in the early morning. Low chances of any significant build up, but you can expect hazardous driving conditions. Black ice and low visibility will make extensive travel dangerous–”

The radio in Keith’s Hardware is old fashioned, curving around the volume and tuning knobs. It’s one of the ones that still has a dial pointer, which is almost always aimed at 92.7 if Keith’s in the back (country); 96.7 (pop) if it’s just you and the only other girl that works in the carpenter’s wet dream of a store. Right now, though, it’s neither of those stations. The pointer is at 162.4, the weather station.

You’d known you were in for it on the drive into work. Watch the weather and it’s real nasty out there airing from your parents lips on your way out of the house for your eight hour shift. The drive had been a gunmetal sort of gray, clouds streaked through the sky and spitting bullets of sleet at your windshield.

For a little bit, the weather had almost cleared up. You’d sworn you’d seen a splotch of sun when you’d tried to step out for break, just to be driven back in by your too-thin jacket and the cold as balls temperature.

Now, though? It’s fucking freezing, and the flurries that the weatherman mentioned are starting to fall. And as much as you’d told Keith that your shitty two-wheel-drive couldn’t handle it, he’d insisted on scheduling you and Liz for close.

Which is where Mr. Miller comes in.

Joel Miller, your dad’s buddy. Joel Miller, the grumpiest secret-softie you’ve ever met. Joel Miller, a knight in shining armor with his 4x4 Ford F150 instead of a horse. Although, if your fantasies are correct – and you like to think they are – what’s between his thighs certainly makes up for the lack of a horse. But he isn’t bringing you for a ride on his cock. He just so happens to be the only man your dad knows with a four wheel drive vehicle, or at least the only one willing to spare you from spinning out by giving you a ride home. Just thinking about it has a knot pinching in the back of your throat. His hands, big and wide and stretching over the gear shift. One muscled arm dangling over the wheel. Looking over his goddamn shoulder to back out —

Liz hops up on the check-out counter where you’re counting up the last of the cash, a spread of Hamiltons, Grants, and Jacksons. You wouldn’t expect a girl like her to work at a hardware store, especially one in the backstreets of the seedy part of town. Some sort of family emergency had driven her back to Austin from NYU design school, which you’re thankful for. Mainly because you get out of cutting wood panels since she has the better eye for measurements, but also because after years of sulking in Keith’s, you finally have someone to talk shit with.

“Those heart eyes aren’t for fuckin’ Alexander Hamilton,” Liz says, tapping her acrylics on your ledger to get your attention. You cough, flipping her off with your pen still in-hand. Liz hums, pretending to think about it as you put down the last numbers. “Although I wouldn’t be too surprised. You do love a geriatric man.”

“Joel isn’t that old,” you scoff, arranging the bills into slim white envelopes and then licking them shut. “He’s just an… acquired taste.”

“Sure, his jizz probably tastes like prohibition-era booze–”

“What the fuck,” you wheeze, hands going out to brace yourself on the closest display case. Your head dips as your chest shakes with laughter.

Liz stays completely straight-faced as she continues, “You’ll have to have 911 on speed dial because if you clench, his heart’s giving out.”

“It is not,” you say, voice still strained with the laughs that won’t stop punching out of you.

She puts her hands up in defense and crosses her legs at the ankles. “Hey, it’s not my fault you like playing whac-a-mole with Great Depression dick.”

“Liz!” You playfully shove her off of the counter, thrusting the envelopes into her hands. “You’re nasty. Fucking nasty.”

She splays a wounded hand over her heart, fanning herself with the envelopes. “You know you love me.” She slips into the office behind the register. You hear the click of the safe before she calls over her shoulder, “Any particular reason you’re fantasizing on the clock?”

“Not fantasizing,” you refute. Liz pops out of the back with a uncertain look scrawled on her face. “My dad talked him into picking me up today so I don’t drive into a snowbank.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a shitty porno.”

“Don’t give me hope.”

“I’m just saying,” she grins. “You can still come to mine. Only a five minute walk with zero chance of rejection.”

“You have such little faith in me.”

She purses her lips. “Mkay…. Pro-tip: Keith probably has some Viagra sitting around in his desk drawers.”

“Liiiiiiiz,” you say. You’re about to tune her out completely when familiar headlights light up the wet asphalt, beaming through the windows. The engine idles, a soft rumble through the linoleum floors. The truck lights dim, leaving Joel in the buttery shine of the streetlamp. His thick arms stretch across the wheel, and he rakes one large hand through his hair. “Shit, speak of the Devil.” You clip off your nametag, tossing it into your half-open bag. “Can you finish closing tonight? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“No problem, no favors necessary.” She closes the register. You fumble to get your bag over your shoulder, not wanting to keep Joel waiting. “Use protection!” she calls after you, and you make sure to flip her off one more time as the door clangs shut behind you.

A wall of cold hits you like a blade of lightning. Wind unfurls, mauling telephone lines and frosted treetops, rippling your jacket. Not even the worn scarf around your neck seems to be doing its job. Suddenly, every one of your limbs feels like an icicle. Joints almost freezing up, you half-jog, half-penguin strut your way to Joel’s passenger side. You wipe the ice off of the door handle with your sleeve. A few stray flurries dust you as you tug the door open, exhaling in relief as you haul yourself onto the side steps and into the toasty warmth of the Ford F150.

You cozy up in the seat, too preoccupied by thawing your hands with long, winded breaths to notice the affronted look Joel is throwing your way. “Are you tryin’ to catch your fuckin’ death, girl?”

“No death to catch. It’s not that cold.” The way you’re shivering says otherwise. Joel pins you with the raise of his brow.

Before you know what he’s doing, he’s groaning as he reaches over the center console into the backseat. You see a flash of his trucker jacket before it lands in your lap, flannel-lined and heavy. You use it like a blanket, draping it across your torso and wrestling your hands into the inside pockets. The canvas smells like car exhaust and off-brand Dollar General deodorant, two things that are so inextricably Joel. As much as you hate to admit it, the warmth is already inking its way across your skin – or maybe it’s just being next to Joel that’s heating you up. “Thanks,” you grumble.

When you adjust in your seat, the inside of your foot catches an empty Dr. Pepper can on the floor. It rattles when you accidentally kick it forward. You lean down and pick it up, going to place it down in the cupholder, only to find it overpopulated with random Home Depot and Whataburger receipts.

“Tax deductions,” he shrugs. “Gotta eat on the job.”

“And a…” You pick up the receipt and squint at the faded typography. “$3.29 strawberry milkshake is part of that, I figure?”

Joel grunts, “Tommy’s order.”

You smirk. “Sure it is.”

“Quit shit stirrin’ and put on your fuckin’ seatbelt.”

You reach back, fingers snagging it and tugging it down. Groping for the belt between the seats and the center console, it goes on for at least five seconds too long before Joel grabs the buckle and shoves it into the slot. His fingers brush your thigh as he pulls away from you and settles his foot over the gas pedal. The singular touch shouldn’t make butterflies beat at the walls of your stomach, but it does. Everything about him does.

Now that you’re all settled in, everything about him is also settling in. The fact that he’s only wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt now that his coat is off. His sleeves are constricting enough that his muscles bulge below the strip of fabric. Ample scruff dapples his jawline, and his hair is disheveled in the way that you’ve learned you like it. You trail your eyes down his body, his tummy, across the undone drawstrings of his dark gray sweatpants, and no, you move on quickly from there, because you refuse to get riled up in the passenger seat.

He’s slowly peeling out of Keith’s parking lot, arm thrown over the back of your seat. You’re starting to fail at your mission of not getting riled up when you see the flex of his bicep, the way his eyes meet yours as he turns to look through the back window. He turns out of the parking lot and onto the relatively barren, icy streets–

“What the hell are those?”

Joel side-eyes you, brows furrowed. He follows the line of your gaze to his feet, which you’re used to seeing in New Balances or steel-toed work boots, but are instead wearing… fur-lined crocs.

“These here? Yeah, got ‘em recently, good for my days off with all this nippy weather. Sarah told me they’re ‘all the rage’ with the youth–”

You can’t help it. You damn near double over with laughter, clutching at your stomach. Joel’s coat nearly slides off of you, but you hang onto it with your pinkie finger, quickly going dizzy from lack of air. “‘All the rage’? Oh my fucking God– Joel, she was pulling your leg. Those are fucking hideous.”

“Hey, now–” He sighs, pinching his nose bridge with the hand that isn’t dangling over the wheel. “Zip it, I don’t needa justify my shoe choices to ya.”

“Does she do anything other than give you shit these days?”

“You’re one to talk about givin’ shit, y’know,” Joel says. Unfailingly, he smiles. The smile that pulls at the edges of his lips. The smile that he only ever gets when talking about Sarah. It doesn’t matter where – loading up his plate with barbecue, your dad asking him while he’s picking up junk mail in the morning, or on the job. If someone asks him about his daughter, Joel fucking beams.

He sucks on his teeth for a second, and then, “She’s picked up soccer. Goalkeeper. Damn good at it, too, all them other kids on her team can’t match her collapse dive.”

“Of course they can’t,” you say. “She’s got better reflexes than a house fly.”

Joel hunches over the wheel, effectively ending the conversation as he concentrates on the road. The only noise is the rumbling engine and the wagging of the windshield wipers as he attempts to navigate the black ice polka-dotted roads. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, seeing him in such a state of focus, his thighs tensed as he manipulates the gas and brakes to stop early, start slow. His arms thickening when he makes a right turn. Thumbs drumming drumming drumming on the wheel and maybe they’d do the same between your legs—

“So how’s work?” you blurt out.

Joel mumbles something that you can’t quite make out.

“Huh?”

“Fuckin’ ‘big shot’ gringos up my ass all day. Goddamn shitshow.” He shakes his head, his lips thinned. “I tell ‘em terraforming is gonna make it look like a Flinstone-owned-and-operated putt-putt course. They say do it anyway. I tell ‘em that orderin’ custom windows is gonna put us months behind. They say do it anyway, then come up jibber-jabberin’ all ‘bout how long it’s takin’. And it’s fuckin’... window madness, not one window in that hellhole matches another. Ain’t had so much trouble buildin’ a house since Sarah had me build her one from Hobby Lobby when she was little. Their architect musta been doin’ lines.”

You think you’ve seen Sarah’s dollhouse before when visiting, just in passing when the guest bedroom door was left open a smidge. You remember stalling in the hallway to look at it, with a fleece of dust growing on the tediously placed shingles and the oakwood front door left open like it’d been waiting for someone to come home. But Sarah outgrew it, and although Joel would never admit it, you know he’s too sentimental to leave it on the curb.

“How bad can building a dollhouse from a kit be?”

“With a five year old yellin’ like a drill sergeant in your ear? Worse than you think. She even made me rig the damn thing with electric so she could have her pink chandelier.”

You pout at him, “Wah wah, I’ll bet you loved it.”

“Was a nuisance at the time. But, uh, she was fiddlin’ with some ‘a the dolls I’d gotten her. Don’t think she knew I was watchin’, had gone to put ‘er to bed ‘cause it was a school night. She was readin’ this book I always read to her. Something about… a stuffed bear with a missin’ button and a girl that was tryna to buy him. I don’t fuckin’ know–” “Corduroy?”

“Yeah, that. Anyway, she was reading, usin’ the same tone I always used with her, tucked her dolls in for the night, and switched off the lights. I don’t think I loved it until then.” There’s a glistening in his eyes at the memory.

You smirk, “Sentimental bastard–”

The truck slides. Or maybe it coasts, skimming across the thin film of black ice. Joel eases down on the brakes, hauling to a stop next to a Minivan with its warning lights on. It’s a long stretch, and you can’t even see all the way down the highway with how thick the snow is. No two snowflakes are the same, but you find it difficult to believe when you’re looking at what must be millions of them. They pirouette, landing on window panes, rooftops, and wind-agonized tree branches. Everything is blotted with white. Red warning lights glare on the ice back at you.

“Shiiit,” Joel says as he squints at the road ahead of him. He scratches at his scruff.

“Tell me you’re not going to drive through that shit.”

“I’m not,” he says.

“Then how the fuck are we getting home?”

“Chill it–” “That’s the last thing I need to do,” you huff.

“I’m takin’ the detour.”

With that, he jerks the wheel — a bit too recklessly considering the weather, in your opinion – and pulls off onto a slippery backroad. The snow seems to have clung to the trees more back here, a sort of incandescent saran wrap over the oaks. At a bend in the road, icicles hang from a yellow sign that says CURVE 30 MPH. Joel takes it at ten.

You’re not checking out his hands while he drives, no, of course not. You’re looking at the gazillion lights on his dashboard display. “You usually have that many lights on?”

“Ain’t your truck, ain’t your business.”

“I’m ridin’ in it, ain’t I?” you mock his accent. 

Joel sighs heavily. “Drivin’ me up the fuckin’ wall.” His hands clench briefly around the wheel. “Auto repair shop’s been price gouging, I’m tryin’ to get Tommy to hook me up with his buddy in San Anton–”

“Won’t be able to drive to San Antonio if your bumper falls off halfway there.”

Joel’s voice is dry as bone. “Ha ha. You get off on bein’ a smartass?”

It’s three words – that’s all it is. Just a throwaway phrase that he probably doesn’t even realize he said. If it were anything more, you’d know. But Joel, saying those words in that order? Damn him, because it turns your blood effervescent. You stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together underneath his coat. You’re about to make another quip that’ll not only distract you, but also surely drive Joel up the wall, one of your favorite activities.

His truck putters from ten miles per hour to eight.

Eight to six.

Six to four.

“Motherfuckin’.... shit,” Joel says again, this time much more urgent as he wrests the wheel to the side. The truck skims over the frosted roads and onto the shoulder, rolls for two seconds, and then falls to a complete, utter stop. The windshield wipers pause while they’re still up. Heat no longer spits out of the dusty air vents.

It’s the loudest silence you’ve ever been in.

“...So do you get off on letting your truck break down or–”

Joel sighs in the way that dogs do. “Thin ice, missy.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls out his phone. “I’ll give Tommy a call.” He stares at the screen for ten seconds. Taps it. Shakes it.

“No service?” you ask.

“No service.”

“Let me try mine,” you mumble, shifting in the car seat. Sure enough, zero bars. Even though you know it won’t work, you press your dad’s contact. It goes straight to voicemail. “Well, shit.”

“Shit,” Joel echoes.

It’s unspoken, but you both know the harsh reality of this harsh wintry night: no phone service, no operational truck, and… no heater.

“Hang tight,” Joel says, reaching over the center console and hijacking his coat from your lap. He wrestles his arms through the sleeves and zips it up. He shoves the door open against the hoarse wind that keeps the trees at a slant, hops out, then slams it shut hard enough for the vehicle to rock. From how hard the wind was blowing, stray flurries dust the truck’s interior.

You can’t really see what he’s doing – the snow’s too heavy, the hood popped wide open for him to investigate the truck’s viscera. You run your hands up and down your thighs, already feeling cold. Without the heater, it won’t be much longer before you turn to an icicle in the passenger seat. The hood bangs back down.

Joel climbs in from the backseat, slams the door as hard as humanly possible, and then scoots to the middle seat. 

You crane your neck to see him as he shakes out his cold-reddened hands before puffing air into his cupped palms. “What’s wrong with it?” You ask. 

He lets out a frigid breath. “Don’t fuckin’ know, snowin’ too damn hard to tell.”

“Ten bucks it was one of the lights on your dash,” you say.

Joel glares at you, still huffing into his hands. His fingertips are bright red to match his ruddy cheeks. Snow is sprinkled through his hair like soot, quickly melting to beads of water on his windblown curls.

“Got some… hand warmers up in that glovebox. Grab the whole pack.”

You lean forward, kneeing it open and rifling through all of his shit. Insurance papers, more receipts, Miller Contracting business cards, a folded pocket knife, lens wipes, and –

“When’s the last time these saw daylight?” you huff out a laugh as you hold up a battered box of condoms. 

Turns out, snow isn’t the thing that makes Joel Miller redder than a tomato. It’s the fifteen year old, very expired condoms hiding in his glovebox.

He clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Jesus. Forgot those were in there.”

You shake the box around and pluck a condom out of it. Looking for the expiration date, you turn it over and over in your hand. “August 31st, 2004. Really that long since you got some, Miller?”

“Put ‘em back,” he grumbles. “Pain in my ass.”

You snicker, replacing the condom box with the box of hand warmers. They’re unopened, still sealed. You snatch Joel’s keys out of the ignition and swipe them across the tape. “Happy?” you toss them over your shoulder.

“No.” He tears open the pack and rubs his hands together around the warmer, sighing when it begins to heat.

“Dick,” you grumble.

More tearing. “Brat.” Another warmer lands in your lap.

“Oughta get comfortable. We’re gonna be here a while,” Joel says.

“And whose fault is that?” You ask as you weigh the warmer in your palms. The front seat already feels cramped, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your legs and arms fold like pretzels as you climb into the backseat. The curse that leaves you when you hit your head on the roof has Joel rolling his eyes.

“Pipe down. First thing in the mornin’ I’ll make the walk out to that country club a mile out and use their phone. Just gotta ride out the night. You ain’t ever roughed it before?”

You fall on all fours on the backseat, finally pulling yourself upright next to him. “Never had a reason to. Like, what if I have to piss? What if I get hungry?”

Joel shrugs. “Tough.”

The cold is starting to settle into your bones. Even your tongue feels popsicle numb, and your fingers are stiff where they wrap around the warmer. It’s like you’ve been trapped in a snowglobe and shaken up by a handsy toddler with how the wind rattles the truck and the snow swishes outside. You suppress a shiver, leaning against the door. Condensation is already building on the windows. Absent-mindedly, you begin to trace a portrait of Joel in the moisture. Your fingertip squeaks against the glass. Your masterpiece wouldn’t be complete without his signature scowl, so you’re sure to paint a frown on his face and his forehead wrinkles on thick.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” Joel comments from the opposite side of the back. “Looks nothin’ like me, by the way.”

You smirk, “But you knew it was you.”

Because there’s nothing better to do than burn time, you spend the next ten minutes filling up the window with whatever nonsense doodles come to mind — hearts, stars, trees, and of course, the only one that Joel seems to be fond of: Sarah, smiling and curly-haired.

Reality only settles in when you’re done with the ephemeral illustrations, their outlines starting to dissolve back to regular droplets that streak down the windows. You’re stuck, for God knows how long, on this shady backroad that the Zodiac Killer would’ve loved during his heyday. With your dad’s best friend that you’ve been harboring a dangerous crush on.

And it’d be impossible to forget that it’s freezing fucking balls.

“Joel?” you say into the dark truck.

“Hm?”

Always one to speak your mind, you say, “It’s freezing fucking balls.”

A sound that might be a laugh leaves him. “Here,” Joel says, unzipping his jacket. He tosses it over to you, and you snuggle back up with it, nose burrowing into one of the creases in the fabric. His coat smells like him – like cheap body wash, chewing gum, and gasoline. 

You try putting your hands in the pockets, even going as far as to open up a new hand warmer for each one, but they’re full of loose change and, expectedly, more receipts. When you curl up against the corner between the door and the seat, the hard plastic bites into your oversensitive back. Sitting upright or cross-legged doesn’t work, and when you test drive sitting diagonally with your feet propped up on the console, Joel makes a disproving noise and swats gently at your shin. You prop your forehead up against the window, but it’s cold enough to give you a brain freeze. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snorts. “Get over ‘ere, you wuss.” He hauls you over, big hand splayed over your waist, and drags you across the bench to his side. You yelp in surprise, but only for a second before you’re crushed against Joel’s side. “Can’t have ya gettin’ hypothermia,” he jests.

You don’t know where to put your hands, but eventually, you settle on cupping his neck. Touching Joel, hell, even just being near him, is like being by an open furnace. Or maybe the heat is just your stomach doing somersaults at being this close to Joel after years of frivolous pining. His nape emanates warmth, the kind that flows down your arms and wraps comfortingly around your chest.

Joel exhales, the tendrils of his breath curling from the frigidity. He grabs his coat from the side and flattens it over the both of you, a piss poor replacement for a blanket, but all you’ve got.

Still, cold seeps in through the cracks in the doors, spoiling whatever lukewarm air remains. It doesn’t help that Joel had hopped in and out of the truck to play eye spy under the hood. The truck struggles to hold onto heat properly, especially when it isn’t producing more of it.

Joel sort of… flickers against your back. You think nothing of it until it happens again, this time in short bursts, and then turns into full on shivering.

“Who’s the wuss now, old man?”

Joel tenses up behind you. “Funny,” he says. With your hands cushioned against his neck, you feel the grate of his voice in his throat. “This is the best you’re gonna get unless you wanna be butt ass naked to share heat.”

It should be a joke. But the way he says it… doesn’t sound like a joke.

You go still, lifeless, not even sure if you’re shaking anymore. Because now, the only thought in your head is being pressed against Joel, his soft cock hardening against you, his palms splayed and rubbing over your stomach to keep you warm. And if his cock needed to get somewhere warmer, too…. Your clit twitches at the thought.

You smother the initial shock in your voice with your usual solution: sass. “So what, we’re gonna fuckin’ huddle for warmth?”

As much as you enjoy the idea, you're already dripping — and that’s just from your body being pressed against his, breathing the same air as him, closer now than you’ve ever been before. With no panties in the way, it’s not a stretch to say you’d be dripping down his thighs. You’d hate to have that conversation.

“Would you rather freeze to death?” Joel asks. You look up at him from where you’re curled into his side and find no gleam in his eyes. This isn’t just some knee-slapper for him. Joel Miller is being completely, irreversibly serious.

“I’d rather something less like Naked and Afraid, Joel!”

“It works,” he says, nose flaring. “They do it in those fuckin’... action movies all ‘a the time.”

“I didn’t know Hollywood was writing survival manuals for pervs–”

“God, you’re a piece ‘a work, ya know that?” His eyes flick down to you, and maybe it’s just the fact that this road is damn near pitch black, but his pupils seem larger than before. “Listen, I ain’t tryna perv on ya. I also ain’t tryna send you back to your old man with four fingers missin’ from frostbite.”

There’s no way you’re actually seriously considering this. You’ve heard of cold temperatures impairing thinking, but not like this. Your dad’ll go chasing after Joel with a pitchfork and a shovel if he finds out the man who was supposed to get you home safe and sound was cuddling naked with you. Cuddling naked with you in the backseat, no less. You’re certain Joel won’t try anything – he’s not like that. No matter how flustered you get in his lap, he’d never take advantage of you. What you aren’t certain of is your ability to stop yourself from asking him t0 take advantage of you.

This is practical. It’s only supposed to be practical. He wouldn’t be suggesting something this drastic if you both weren’t shaking like a rattlesnake’s rattler.

“Fine,” you say, already unwinding your scarf from around your neck. Determined to keep some semblance of boundaries up, you add, “No peeping, Miller.”

Joel makes an exasperated sound as you once again scoot out from his coat and across the bench, working yourself out of your shoes, your cotton zip-up, and then the stiff Keith’s uniform – a blue polo and jeans. Joel’s eyes are respectfully trained on the truck’s floor mats, which you’re only just now noticing has a sun-bleached Lisa Frank sticker tacked onto it. 

Down to your bra and panties, your heart rate picks up. Your fingers are so fucking cold that it’s hard to get your bra straps out of the way so you can unclasp the damned thing, and then it falls to the floor. Your nipples harden in the face of the cold. The only thing you keep is your scarf, which do you do your best to cover your tits with. Scooping up your discarded clothes and tossing them to the front seat, you let out a shaky breath.

Fuck it.

You shimmy out of your panties and get rid of them just as quickly. When you try telling Joel you’re decent, or rather indecent, nothing comes out. Instead, you have to clear your throat with a strained,  “All good.”

“Alright,” Joel says, rustling around. You hear his crocs scrape against the mat, and then his shirt swishing over his head.

He doesn’t tell you to look away, but since it’s implied, you look out of the window. The snowy trees tremble in the wind, and you almost wince when you see a small sliver of his tanned skin reflected in the glass. His crocs clunk on the ground when he kicks them off, and you watch his criminally tight t-shirt go flying over the passenger seat. You casually grip the Jesus handle, hoping that Joel doesn’t notice your fist tightening around it when you hear him untying the drawstrings of his sweatpants. When his sweats and boxers follow the path of his shirt, breathing gets a lot harder than you remember it being.

Just an hour ago, you’d been certain that this would be nothing more than a ten minute drive. Maybe, if you were lucky, he’d call you a casual pet name that would fuel the wriggling of your hand between your thighs that night. 

The tension in the air is thicker than molasses. Each breath you take is fragile.

“I’m ready when you are,” Joel says.

Since you’re already half-naked, and since chickening out is out of the question, you inch over to Joel’s side. The air tumbles out of your lungs in one fell swoop when your bicep meets his. With some fidgeting, you bring your legs up at an angle beneath you, wrapping around his side in a way that has you feeling a little bit like a koala. You talk yourself into keeping your eyes forward and then scrub your palms across your freezing arms.

Joel, more indifferent than you think anyone else in this situation could be, abruptly casts his coat back over the both of you.

And, fuck him, he’d been right. The engulfing canvas of his coat keeps warmth trapped where it can be passed easily between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just being confined and skin-to-skin with Joel that has you heating up.

The silence is cruel – it’s much harder to make conversation about work or dollhouses or whatever the hell else when you’re naked. Only the wind’s sibilance keeps you company.

You can get used to this, you think. Drift off into a somewhat sound sleep with your head on Joel’s shoulder and hope that you don’t drool all over him or moan his name in your sleep. More embarrassing things have happened to you.

But then, as if you’re the unluckiest person alive, the temperature drops even more, and suddenly, you’re shaking like a leaf all over again. Your teeth almost clack together as you try to stammer out to Joel, “C–cold, Jesus fucking… Christ that’s cold.”

Joel pouts down at you, but you don’t miss the way his lip quivers. “Should I call the wambulance?”

“Should I call the r–r–r–retirement home to pi…pick up a ru–runaway resident?” It sounded a lot better in your head than bouncing off of your frozen tongue, you have to admit.

“Drama queen,” Joel mutters into your ear. “Can’t do anythin’ more about it. Sorry–”

“Can I sit on your lap?” you blurt out so quickly that you don’t even have time to think about it. You grimace, partially covering your face with your hands. Shit.

Joel’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

You’re already half doomed. Why not go all the way? “Listen, it’s just fucking… fucking freezing, Joel. Holy shit.”

“That bad?” he chokes out.

“You’d be warmer than the seats,” you defend. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Best behavior.”

Joel seems to ponder it for a moment, brows stitched together while he looks down at you from where you’re furled up against his side. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek before giving you a slight nod. “Alright.” You nod in return, heart in your throat. “–But you better mean it when you say best behavior. Can’t have any ‘a this shit gettin’ back to your dad.”

Another nod. You hold your breath as you shinny your way onto Joel’s lap, mounting him from the front so his chest hits your back. In your attempt to get comfortable, you bracket your legs around his. His soft cock fits at the small of your back, and even though he’s as flaccid as can be, he’s big. Apparently your imagination isn’t too far off. Joel’s sharp intake of breath forms a pit in your stomach, and you know when you’re warming up for an entirely different reason than close proximity, you also know that you need to calm yourself down. Fast.

Think of something awful. Like that time that you had to dissect cow eyes in sophomore year biology. Think about mold. How many murderers you’ll walk by in your lifetime. Expired leftovers. Anything–

You adjust yourself in an attempt to get away from Joel’s cock. Instead, your hips move just so his cock slips between your thighs and bobs against your slit.

You whine.

Your body immediately locks up once you realize what you’ve done. Crawling out of the truck to die a hypothermia-induced death seems like a much kinder fate than facing Joel, but no matter how much you scream at yourself to reach out and unlock the door, your hands refuse to move. You hadn’t noticed how wet you’d gotten, and you have no idea how. It’s smeared across your thighs, and now pressed up against your back after Joel’s dick had dragged through it all.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit–

Chancing a look over your shoulder, you’re surprised to find the tips of Joel’s ears flushed, cheeks cherry ripe. His Adam’s apple bobs when you meet his eyes. Holy fuck.

You’ve flustered him.

For some reason, the thought makes your chest a lot lighter. You look away nonetheless, but this time, with a newfound gleam in your eye. There’s no such thing as a bad accident, right?

Maybe Liz was right about having to call 911, because when you ‘accidentally’ repeat the movement, Joel stops breathing all together. His cock, almost hard now, you’ve noticed, bumps against your clit. You almost swallow your tongue trying to keep your moan down.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he asks, his gruff voice scratching at your ears.

“I didn’t mean to,” you lie straight through your teeth, a smug little grin spreading on your face. Something about his semi-hard cock between your bodies tells you he’s going to say no to your next suggestion. “Maybe you should put the coat between us, instea–”

“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind, girl?” Joel’s voice comes out raspy. He shakes his head, clears his throat. The vibrations rumble up your spine. “And take away the whole point of stayin’ warm? Now quit it. Ain’t that hard to sit still.”

You try your hand at listening – for all of two seconds.

You hike your hips up, fumbling with his coat as you slot his cock against your slit once more, pushing yourself forward. The coat slides right off of you, falling in a dark lump on the floor. Neither of you care — you’re both too heated for the lack of cover to make a damn difference. Joel hisses, a sound like water hitting an open flame. His hands fly down to your waist, anchoring you to his lap. A surprised noise squeaks out of you.

“What, you got rocks rattlin’ around in your brain?” Joel scowls. “You’re real impolite for a cocktease, sweetheart.”

Butterflies flap around in your stomach from his words. It’s enough to make your head tip against his chest so you can look up at him, lips shaped in a perfect pout. “I’m not,” you say.

“Not a cocktease, huh? Not even when you’re rubbin’ all over my lap?”

You gasp as your hands fly down to cover Joel’s, nails etching into where his fingers meet your bare skin. You tug at his wrist, trying desperately to guide him where you so desperately need him.

“Not happenin’,” Joel grunts, yanking your hands behind you and pinning them to your waist like you’re nothing more than a poseable doll. His large, work-worn hands make yours look damn near miniature as he holds you down. The sudden roughness douses your inner thighs with a new wave of wetness. “Jesus, girl. Poor thing, gettin’ all hot and bothered. Don’t blame ya for tryna get me to help out. Can feel ya dripping down my legs, gushin’ like a sprinkler.”

“S–sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry,” you whisper, words sticky with your arousal. Your clit twitches from his words, embarrassment and need doing all the work to keep you warm.

“Nahhh,” he says. “I don’t think you are, baby.” Maybe it’s the condescension he’s purring in your ear, maybe it’s the pet name; most likely, it’s a combination of both that has you convulsing in his lap. It’s like he’s found all of the right buttons to press to get you riled up, getting you back for all of your snide comments earlier. 

His fingers find the fabric of your scarf, luring it off of your neck so he can cord it around your wrists. You squirm when you realize what he’s doing, and a breathless huff of his laughter brushes your cheek. “I’ll be damned if you ain’t gonna be, though.” He draws it tight, tight enough for you to feel your pulses bumping into each other. Joel leaves a fair amount of your unreasonably long scarf loose.

“Joel, what the fuck are you up to?”

“Teachin’ you some sweet southern belle etiquette, darlin’. Such a goddamn troublemaker, grindin’ on me like I’m some kinda… frat boy.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “Pullin’ that shit with your pops’ friend. Real fuckin’ classy.”

“Like you’re so different. Who’s the one that’s tying me up? Huh, Mil–”

You hear the hit well before you feel it, a firm whack to your cunt that makes your vision blacken and electricity scurrying up your spine. It takes you a second to come back to yourself before a ragged cry pulls its way out of your lips. You jolt in his lap, bound arms bobbing in front of you as your body instinctively lurches for control. You damn near kick your feet, accidentally ricocheting yourself into Joel’s chest. His forearms hold you there. 

“Guess I’ll make it crystal clear for ya, baby, since that dumb lil’ head ‘a yours is havin’ some trouble. My truck, my rules. You’re ridin’ in it, ain’t you?” You nod reluctantly as he turns your words from earlier in his favor. “That was a warnin’, you showoff. Think you can bat your slutty ‘fuck me’ eyes an’ get away with murder.” He fucking tsks at you.

He pulls his hand away from your pussy, and you’re both surprised and not surprised at all to see it covered in your arousal, webbed between his calloused fingers. 

“Got a whole goddamn slip ‘n slide down here…” murmurs Joel. You whine, bucking your hips against him. “Oughta just…” he starts, nudging his cock towards your hole. The noise you make is pathetic. “Stop ya from ruinin’ my seats. Cork you right up.” You tense up, fully expecting the intrusion, but his dick passes your cunt right up, instead sliding up to meet your clit. It taps against your swollen nub, and if his goal was to stop you from ruining his seats, you’re certain he’s already failed with how quickly you gush all over the upholstery.

“But that’d be real nice, wouldn’t it? Givin’ ya what ya want so early on…” Instead of pulling away like you expect, Joel griiiinds the head of his cock against your clit. You moan helplessly, head falling back across his shoulder.

And then he does it again.

And again.

And agai–

“Joooooel,” you whine, knees jerking each time his tip meets your most sensitive spot. Heat spins in your stomach.

He backs his hips up “What? Thought you loved this with how much you were gettin’ at it earlier.”

You shake your head rapidly in the negative, chest rising and falling at a breakneck pace while he teases you.

“So you can deal, but you can’t play?”

“I think you’re just taking your sweet old time getting it up, old man,” you grit out, knowing damn well he’s stiffer than titanium behind you.

Joel hums. “Ah, she’s got jokes.” His cock slips back, quickly replaced by his hand engulfing your mound. Your clit twitches ever so slightly against his palm lines, and you’re almost convinced you could get off from that alone. His palm cracks against your cunt again, somehow even harder than the first time. You cry out, eyes burning from arousal and the slightest edge of pain.

With his thumbpad, he taps your clit like he’s just scrolling through the cable guide with a remote. Fleeting movements that have you wanting more more more. It heals the sting of his slap even if the echo of the hit still simmers in your stomach. Your cunt throbs so hard that it hurts, jumping up to meet Joel’s scarce ministrations.

When he retracts his hand, your hips chase the movement. “See this?” he taunts, fluttering his wet fingers in front of your face. You make a choked noise when his drenched middle finger breaches your lips. He doesn’t even need to tell you; you latch on and suck yourself off of his calloused skin. You’re mostly salty, but a little sweet, and tasting yourself on your own tongue by his insistence manages to make you even wetter.

Joel takes his spare fingers, just as soaked, and smears them all around your chin and lower cheeks. He presses down on your tongue as he does. You gag from the pressure, and you can’t hear his laugh over the roaring of your blood in your ears, but you feel it rattle his chest where it meets your spine. Your slick cools quickly against your burning skin, syrupy as it clings to your face. “Need a bib, baby?”

He pulls his finger from your mouth with a pop and your scarf-wrapped hands spring to wipe yourself from your lips, hoping to save yourself from the humiliation of having your own pussy juice anointing your face. You only scoop up a little before Joel lowers his forearm over yours, but for once, you’re faster than him. You swipe your wet hand over his mouth, smudging as much as you can along the scruff surrounding his mouth.

He wraps a burly hand in the scarf and yanks your hands back into place. All you can do in response is giggle, but the breath is swiftly knocked out of you when he drives his cock right into your clit. “Think you’re funny, don’t ya?” He asks, and finally grunts as he rolls his hip into you. A break in his resolve, a sign that he wants this, or at least the discipline of this, as badly as you do.

You almost weep from the pressure, that rope of pleasure in your stomach that he keeps knotting tighter and tighter and tighter with each stroke of his cock, his fingers. “Joel!” you cry out as he follows it up with another firm swat to your clit. His cock spreads your folds as he softens the bashing, nuzzling his tip against your spasming cunt.

“Really, oughta give standup a go one ‘a these days. Be a real hotshot.”

“Oh yeah?” you pant, light headed and woozy.

“Mhm. If the whole crowd’s drunk.” His cock nudges your nub with a new vigor.

“Assh–”

Right as you’re about to press down and follow the sensation, Joel senses it. His cock gives way through your cheeks, just in time for him to land a ruthless slap across your pussy. It’s harder than the others – makes your ears ring for a second, gives you a sort of visual snow that has you doubling over and gripping at the closest object for purchase, which just so happens to be the metal rods coming out of the headrest. 

“Ain’t what you should be sayin’ if you’re plannin’ on gettin’ what you want, sugar,” Joel tuts. He shakes his head at you. “Don’t wanna hear no lip from ya, girl.”

You open your mouth, argument on the tip of your drool-loaded tongue, but your halfhearted attempt at defiance doesn’t last long. Joel’s hand clamps around your chin, denting your skin into your teeth. He jerks your head to face him, knocking you down a peg with scathing eye contact. “You’re pushin’ it.” He loosens his grip.

“As if, Miller. If those pre-Cold War condoms are anything to go by, you’ve been dying for a chance to get your dick wet. Doesn’t matter how much lip I give you, you aren’t gonna blue ball yourself for much longer.” Satisfied, you raise your brows at him.

Turns out, he is going to blue ball himself for much longer, because he lands six slaps in rapid succession across your sopping cunt. The skin smarts, and you cry out. Your grip tightens around the headrest rod to the point of strangling it. Your eyes water, and you can’t tell if you’re crying. Too consumed by Joel, everything has melted into him – the smell of sawdust perpetually sewn into his skin, his cock sealed against your body.

“How many times are ya gonna poke the bear before you learn your lesson, you cheeky little shit?” Joel’s palm cups the inside of your right thigh, just above the knee. He traces circles with his thumb, and heat trails after him with everywhere he touches. “See, the thing about havin’ ‘pre-Cold War condoms’ is that I’ve had a helluva lot more time to learn self control than you. Can wait as loooooong as it takes for you to get your head on right. Don’t matter if you’re waterfallin’ down my seats or not, pretty girl. I’m giving you exactly what ya deserve.”

You whimper, trying (and failing) to get your magma hot core closer to Joel’s unfairly large hand, still splayed out on your inner thigh. You can’t stop how you squirm in his lap, smearing your arousal everywhere with each movement you make.

At a snail’s pace, his hand begins to inch up your leg. Joel pauses to grope at you as his hand travels upward. Handfuls of your skin, rubbing at your scalding hot thighs. Your patience is wearing thin by the time he gets midway there. You need him to touch you. And that’s just the tip of this impossibly destructive iceberg.

You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have let him go down this shitty backroad, shouldn’t have agreed to your dad’s ridiculous idea of Joel picking you up, shouldn’t have asked to be naked on his lap, shouldn’t have gotten naked on his lap, shouldn’t be leaking like a twenty-year-old pipe in a building he’d been hired to renovate. If your dad ever finds out–

“Joel, please, please – plea…” you trail off, dissolving into incoherent whimpers as his hand hovers over your cunt. You’re running hotter than a radiator now, and if you both wanted to be warm, then you’ve got your wish. Although mostly gibberish, Joel has to understand what you want from him. It’s just that the bastard is unwilling to provide.

Joel reaches down to pinch your clit, and your body can’t even discern from pleasure and pain anymore. You react the same to it all, back arching as you try desperately to plant yourself on his cock. “Shhh, shhh, quit runnin’ your filthy mouth. Only gonna get yourself into more trouble.”

You swear you hear angels singing, swear you see the pearly gates when he gives your clit a merciful rub. Melting into him, you exhale shakily.

“See? All nice ‘n quiet when she’s gettin’ what she wants.” You wouldn’t even dream of mouthing off to him now.

“I want – I need…” you gasp out, putty in his hands. Moldable to his liking. Everything you’d pretended not to want.

“Go on,” he coos. “Tell daddy what you need.”

You don’t even hear him say that word. You’re too hooked on begging, begging, begging. “Please – Joel, oh god, please – I need… I need… please please please, fuck, it hurts–”

Joel clicks his tongue. “Nuh uh. Start over. Always such a chatterbox ‘cept for when I need ya to be.”

“Wha…?” you ask, admittedly dazed from the harsh treatment that you’ve come to crave more of.

“Tell daddy what you need,” he repeats, words molasses slow.

You clench, gushing even more all over him. Shit, your next paycheck might have to go to replacing the goddamn seats if you keep up like this.

“D–D… D-” you start stammering out, but you’ve lost autonomy over your body long ago, and apparently that goes for your tongue, too. “Da– Da… pl–”

“Any day now,” he scoffs.

“Daddy!” you spit out all at once. “Please, please, daddy, fuck – fuck me, daddy, please, I want your cock, daddy. Feels so fucking big. Need it daddy, it hurts… please, ngh– daddy!” Tears are burning the corners of your eyes, fueled almost entirely by arousal and partially by frustration. You squirm, cunt crying all over the place. 

“M’kay, baby,” he says. Running a hand down your chest and squeezing your nipple on the way down. He slides his hand down your stomach to cup your mound, giving your clit slow, gentle circles. Your hips jump forward, and this time, he doesn’t stop you. “Daddy’s got ya.”

At the first intrusion of his middle finger in your cunt, you jump. It’s a lot compared to what he’s been giving you, but nowhere near enough. A second finger slips inside. He doesn’t have to do much work to stretch you out — you’ve been seeping out of you since you first got on his lap. He’s all too quick thrusting them in and out of you – the messy squelch of your pussy filling the backseat has you burying your chin against your chest, averting your eyes. The heel of his palm bumps persistently at your clit with each shift of his fingers inside of you.

“I know you ain’t a virgin, but you’re soakin’ like one. Too damn cocksure to ain’t have had a cock in ya before. Prancin’ around like a glorified dick trap.” You inhale sharply when his fingers scrape that spongy spot inside of you that you can never reach yourself. A moan rips out of you. The combination of him talking down to you and rubbing your g-spot has you dangerously close to cumming. Your moan is quickly swallowed up by more of Joel’s condescension. 

He starts mumbling to himself then, obscenities that make you clench even tighter around his fingers. “Gonna get you all sore baby, make you regret beggin’ for this dick like a horny ‘lil bitch that ain’t ever been laid in her life. Fuck you so hard you’ll be cryin’ for daddy’s cock up your ass instead, turn you into an anal slut, too.” He’s too busy listening to himself talk, too absorbed in his own world to feel you balancing on that razor-thin edge.

The noise you make is inhuman. You pulse around him, doing your best to stave off your impending release. “Daddy–” you warn, but he cuts you off then, too. Joel grinds his cock between your ass cheeks, his precum dripping down your slit to meet your trembling cunt. 

“Ever been fucked here before baby?” He swipes his tip along your asshole, and the way you shudder is answer enough for him. “Don’t get all jumpy, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna fuck ya there right now. Be cruisin’ for a bruisin’.” Still, he replaces his tip with his free hand’s thumb, simply rubbing at the ring of muscle. You fidget in his lap without an end-goal. You just want to be close to him, want to take everything he’s willing to give you. His fingers hook just right inside of you. “Would love to be the first to unlock this pretty backdoor. If this tight ‘lil pussy’s anything to go by… Christ. You’d look so pretty squirmin with my cock in your ass, baby–”

“Daddy!” You scream as your orgasm guts you. His fingers and his voice rip your climax right out of you and your cum streams down your inner thighs and Joel’s hand, still smacking against your clit with each thrust. Your cunt spasms around his flexing fingers. He has to fold an arm over your chest to keep you from sliding off his slippery lap entirely.

All the way through the aftershocks that make your limbs quake, Joel holds you upright against his body, still bumping his palm and fingertips against your clit and g-spot. You swear you can feel him smiling against your shoulder.

“Didn’t tell ya you could cum, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, flicking his cum covered finger across your clit. You wince in overstimulation, a whine catching in your throat.

“‘M sorry, daddy,” you pant. His hands go up to 

“‘S okay, babygirl. Pretty pussy couldn’t help it when I was talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ your ass, huh?” His hands rove up your stomach to play with your tits, palming and stroking, getting his hands all over every carnal part of you.

You hum into his bicep, “Mmmm.”

“That’s alright. Don’t mean you’re gettin’ away with a slap on the wrist though. C’mon, up,” he guides with a small slap to your thigh. You adjust, bringing yourself onto your knees so he can enter you from behind. You look down at his sturdy thighs, flexing as he adjusts himself between your legs. He gives you one more teasing thrust through your thighs, poking your oversensitive clit one more time before reaching down to spread your folds.

You moan as he presses against your entrance, and it’s not the best time to have a come to Jesus moment, but – Joel’s size was in no way over exaggerated between your legs. You stiffen in realization, and Joel, attentive as always, notices. He guides your chin to face him and nuzzles his nose up against yours, mouth tracing down to your lips. Your breath mingles, stagnant in the long-forgotten chill. A cushion of softness against all of his spiky edges that showed up tonight. “You’re on top, baby. Take it as slow or as fast as ya want.”

Nodding at the reminder, you find yourself that you don’t want to take it slow. You want to be as sore as he’d promised, want to feel him for days and be reminded of this every time you look at the winter morning’s frost on the shingles outside.

Sinking down over his throbbing length yanks the air out of your lungs as you seat yourself with him bottoming out and going balls deep in your cunt simultaneously. He grunts against you in surprise, softening the blow of your heady moan. “Attagirl,” he huffs into the crease between your neck and shoulder. It’s a stretch, searing up your thighs and to your lower back. You’re brought back to yourself when Joel rolls his hips into you, making the pain liquefy into mind-numbing pleasure. You spend thirty seconds waiting for him to fuck up into you in a way that changes your philosophy around the world, but instead, he’s still and solid inside of you.

“Go on,” Joel coaxes, placing a steady hand just shy of your mound. “Gotta prove you deserve to cum again.” He taps your thigh as if he’s telling you to giddy up, and the shame warms the back of your neck better than any heater ever could.

You whimper. His hands coast up your thighs, squeezing your hips tight before falling to grip the seats below. You’re still weak from your last orgasm, shaky legs struggling to hold yourself up as it is. “Daddy… I can’t…” 

“Ain’t no different than fuckin’ y’self on that vibrator or dildo or whatever the fuck’s in your nightstand. Girl like you, gotta have a wimpy ‘lil fucktoy somewhere.” His words make you clench around him, and he groans into your neck. Joel looks up at the front window, now covered in snowflakes. He smirks when he spots the rearview mirror. “Oughta make you watch yourself. Show a pathetic, cockstarved slut what happens when she bites off more than she can chew.” At that, you mewl, grinding yourself down. The chuckle he lets out is lined with cruelty.

Joel pins you to his chest with one burly arm and leans forward with a hash of grunts from effort. He reaches out towards the rearview mirror, lowering it to face the middle seat that you’re both braced on. He sinks back quickly, and it almost gives you whiplash before you make eye contact with yourself. You can see everything. Tremors travel up your legs and into your arms. Your body is getting freezer burn from how cold and hot you are at the same time. Pleasured tears threaten to spill over your waterline. Joel’s smug fucking face as he murmurs endlessly at you. 

Your mouth is parted as you take yourself in, truly a pathetic, pretty little picture as you pant. “C’mon,” Joel coaxes, squeezing your ass. “You can do it. Make daddy proud. I’ll even give you a boost.” Joel reaches to your tied hands and quickly undoes the scarf, letting it drop to the floor. You flex your fingers and then reach out for the chairs ahead to get a good grip.

You prop yourself up on your knees, anchoring yourself to the two chairs in front of you. Using a combination of your upper and lower body strength, you rise halfway off of Joel’s cock before your body gives out. His balls slap wetly against your clit. He laughs, still not touching you at all. Your head flops forward as you look down to where the two of you meet, and then at the mirror where his cock is buried deep inside of you. You whine in dismay.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to get you sore. You can only moan. It’s pleasure like you’ve never had it before – too much, not enough, painful, so good. “Please, Joel – I can’t… can’t handle it.”

“I’ll decide what you can handle,” he says.

“You’re– you’re so fucking mean,” you rasp.

“Gets you this soaked, baby. Don’t see your pussy complainin’. You love bein’ treated like a piece ‘a meat. Like a little fleshlight for men to fuck.”

You clench, tight. “Ah!” Joel fucking sniggers behind you, but a rush of confidence spills through you at the underlying moan in his throat.

Determined to get what you want, you tighten your grip on the front seats. Haul yourself up, almost so that the tip slips right out, and then collapse back onto Joel’s cock. And, shit, it’s a lot. You doubt you could handle his cock in missionary, but being made to ride him in such a compromising position, sprawled out across his shitty backseat? That’s an entirely different animal, one that you hadn’t expected to have to handle.

You focus on doing just enough to please him and just enough to keep yourself intact. You repeat your movements two or three times, rising and falling. Little moans and whimpers, some pained, some good when he nudges your g-spot just right, slip in and out of you.

“Mmmm, yeah, that’s it. Daddy’s ‘lil wannabe pocket pussy. Doin’ a ‘lil better baby. Keep doin’ that. Jus’ keep doin’ that.”

You’re shaking like a leaf on his cock as you somehow manage to lift yourself another time before fucking back on him. “Daaaddy.” Your lips quiver as you form the word. A single tear runs down your face from overexertion, and he’s quick to wipe it up with his thumb as if it was never there. You look truly whorish and pathetic, just like he’d wanted, bouncing on his cock with the last of the energy you have left in you.

His tip jabs against that goddamn spot again, and you double over on the center console. You take heaving breaths, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror, desperate to please as you attempt to keep humping him with the change in angle. You’re letting out strings of disoriented words, but barely can tell that you’re talking.

“I fuck you dumb already? Slutty little girl. Told ya you were in for it. Ain’t ever had much of a knack for listenin’. Gonna dick you down now, sweet girl.” He drags your legs into the crook of his elbows, holding you upright for him as he shifts to his knees between your legs. Braced on the center console with your pussy settled on his cock, the new angle makes you cry out. You hold yourself up on your elbows, giving shallow rolls of your hips in return as Joel gets settled inside of you.

The first thrust makes your eyes roll back so far that you see black. “Feel good?”

“So… so fu–fucking goo… good daddy,” you whimper into the console, gripping the sides of it just so you have something to hold onto.

“Swallowin’ daddy’s dick whole in this greedy cunt. Goddamn, drippin’ down my fuckin’ balls. Such a masochistic slut, all after a poundin’ from an old man. All up in a tizzy for this cock.”

You moan your agreement, completely submissive to Joel’s wills. You move like a ragdoll for him, letting him yank you back on his cock while he meets you there, thrust for thrust. He pulls out, a small mercy, but when he sheathes himself back inside of you in full, it’s the beginning of a punishing pace.

You don’t even notice yourself drooling all over the console until Joel says something about it. “Droolin’ from two places. Yeah, baby, you needed this. Daddy’s pretty cockslut.” You whine especially loudly when Joel drags you back across the console, damn near fast enough to give your stomach rugburn. 

Hands framing your spread legs, Joel hooks them both around his torso, using the leverage to plow into you. You’re boneless beneath him, mouth frozen in silent moans. His hips meet your ass with each shove of his cock in your sloppy cunt, the obscene sound of slap after slap pealing out within the truck. “Damn lucky we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Joel growls on another thrust. “Someone woulda been knockin’ on the window long time ago with how loud you’re bein’.”

“Mmph,” you gasp when Joel tosses one of your legs up and over the passenger seat. You hold yourself there as he digs his fingers into your other thigh, shifting his spare hand to your mound.

“Daddy please please please plea–” you start panting like a broken record, desperate to feel his hand on your clit, which throbs with inattention on the console. You grind frantically on the edge just in case he denies you again. 

Joel laughs above you, fully smudging two fingers across your clit in a blur of indescribable pleasure. “Ain’t gonna make ya beg this time. Can’t wait to feel ya creamin’ ‘round me… maybe I’ll make ya lick that up too. Nasty bitch.”

“Joooel, oh fuck, please…” you whine as he continues railing you, this time fiercely tweaking your clit in-time with his movements.

The new position has his thrusts meeting your cervix, and you scream, pleasure corkscrewing through your body. There’s nowhere for all of it to go with how viciously it burns in your stomach – all you can do is take it and whine for him. “Takin’ it real good. See what happens when ya behave? You get this fat cock splittin’ your whore cunt in two, jus’ like you were askin’ for.”

He grips your hip tight, clearly expecting an answer. You slur, “Mhm, daddy!”

Joel rubs faster circles around your clit, spouting filth while he drills your pussy. You can tell he’s chasing his own release, too, hips frantically fucking in and out of you, his cock twitching every single time you clench. You’re burning up as he jackhammers your pussy. Your second orgasm of the night brims low in your stomach, “Come on, baby, know you’re close. Feel this slutty pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna ask permission like a good girl this time, or are ya gonna go back to your defiant little slut self?”

“No, daddy,” you whimper, suspended in thin air over orgasmic bliss. He’s rubbing your clit erratically, doing everything he can to hold you in place. “P-please daddy, can I come?” You practically scream it out.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Come for daddy’s, come allll over daddy’s cock.”

The band snaps. Your back arches, and you feel time stop in the second before you fall slack on the console, spasming from the best orgasm of your fucking life. Your clit feels like there’s fucking pop rocks on it, something that not even your vibrator has ever achieved. “Thank you daddy!” you cry out, repeating it as you lose all feeling in your bones. You hardly have any control over your body anymore – it’s just Joel Joel Joel Joel. Sated and weary, you just lay there, letting Joel fuck into you.

And fuck into you he does – roughly, helping you ride out your orgasm as he pursues his. “That’s my girl,” he says, and you swear that alone could make you cum all over again. “Lettin’ your daddy use this juicy, well-fucked cunt to get his own.” He can’t hold back his moans, that’s how you know he’s close, grunting and gasping as he rocks his hips into yours. His hand lands on your ass in a sharp smack, and your pussy clenches in exactly the way that he expected. He lets out a particularly ragged noise, folding himself over you to nip at your neck and rest his forehead against your shoulder blade. “Daddy’s close, where do ya want me, baby?”

“Tits,” you whine. It’s a miracle you can even get that one word out, but somehow, you manage a few more. “Come on my tits, daddy.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, yanking himself over you. You help him roll yourself over and sit up on your elbows, and he jerks himself once, twice, before spraying his load all over your tits with the loudest groan yet. His brows fold together as he cums, eyes drooping and his mouth parted as he takes deep breaths.

You sit there for a handful of heavy minutes, listening to each other’s jagged breathing and the sawtoothed wind outside. You’re both so fucked. Literally, and figuratively. Stuck in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, you with your dad’s proclaimed bestie’s cum drying on your tits, and said bestie staring at you with post-coital puppy dog eyes and your cum all over his balls.

You’re the first to speak up, still winded. “That was… that was good.”

Joel nods mindlessly, tongue swiping out to lick his lips. He beckons you closer, and on trembling legs, you bring yourself to the backseat. You return to your previous position, huddled up and curled next to the door. Joel fumbles around under the back bench for a little until he comes up with a small, sunbleached pack of princess-themed pocket tissues that have to be as old as Sarah is. He dabs at your chest before stuffing them into the closest empty cupholder, and then brings you closer to his chest.

You don’t notice yourself falling asleep when all you can feel is Joel.

There’s better ways to wake up than a furious rapping on the window, but that isn’t the first thing you notice. You blink your eyes open groggily, only to face an egg yolk sun cracking wide open over the treeline and snowmelt bleeding out from every given surface. Joel’s behind you, nose in your neck, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around your middle. You take a moment to admire him – his sun kissed skin and his peaceful expression. It takes you a moment to remember you slept with him. You slept with Joel, and it was the best fuck of your life.

You’re stretching, on the verge of a yawn, when you see the familiar head of black hair over the window. “Shit!” you shout. Joel jerks to life behind you, mumbling something that sounds a lot like ‘what?’. 

You scramble to pull the coat over the both of you from where it fell off of you in the middle of the night, covering your naked bodies. “Get dressed!” you hiss to Joel, searching for wherever the fuck your panties ended up last night.

“What the hell’s gotten into ya–” he starts, and you feel the exact moment that he realizes Tommy Miller is outside of the truck. “Motherfucker,” he curses, swaying towards the front seat to snag his clothes. You see him almost put his head through his T-shirt armhole three times before he gets it right. His sweatpants are next, which he tugs up his bare legs without even searching for his boxers.

“Joel?” Tommy shouts outside. “Wake up, sleepin’ beauty!” He knocks on the door again, the windows blurry from melting snow. You have that to thank, at least. It buys you enough time to tug your polo over your head, but not enough time to button it all the way up.

“Fuckin’... dumbass,” Joel huffs as he clips the lock on the door and kicks it open, looking at least somewhat composed. You take deep breaths, looking between the two of them. “How’d you find us?”

Tommy looks Joel up and down, scrutinizing him. “What happened to southern gentleman manners? I came out here to save ya from Mt. Everest, brother! Least you could say is ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you,” you fill in for Joel, even if the last thing you’re feeling is grateful.

“Her daddy threw a hissy fit, y’know? Told him you were fine and we’d go lookin’ for ya in the mornin’. We saw all that backup on the highway, I went this way, he went that way, turns out my gut was right. ‘Course my dumbass brother would take this route… hey, you’re truck’s a fuckin’ mess.” Tommy sinks his hand into the closest cupholder, pulling out a wad of tissues that have been soaked in his cum. You hiss as if you’ve been scalded with boiling hot water.

Joel starts, “Tommy–”

“What the fuck is this shit?” The realization seems to dawn on poor Tommy when he’s peeling apart the tissues, and he drops them like they’re a thousand pounds. You can’t even bring yourself to scold him for littering as the wind carries them away. “Joel. You dirty dog!” He says, eyes flitting between the two of you like it’s the most impossible thing in the world.

Your heart picks up to a speed that can rival most NASCAR drivers and your face burns like hot asphalt. You look pointedly down at the ground.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Joel seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get outta here, you little shit.”

Tommy’s hands go up. “Hey now, I ain’t doin’ anything. That is not a conversation I wanna have with her daddy.” He clears his throat, effectively clearing the air along with it. “So, uh, truck break down?” Joel grunts in affirmation.

“Been tellin’ ya you need to make a stop at the auto shop… C’mon, I’ll get y'all home,” Tommy says, jingling the keys to his own truck. “Call a tow on the way.”

Joel drags his feet all the way to Tommy’s passenger side. You get your wallet and jacket together, winding the latter around your waist. The sun almost blinds you on your way out, and Tommy stops you.

“I hope you didn’t let ‘im stick it to ya with them prehistoric condoms. You’re smarter ‘n that.”

“God, no,” you huff out.

“I dunno what’s stupider, lettin’ my asshole brother hit it raw or gettin’ a UTI–”

“Okay!” you announce, hands going up as you round the back of Tommy’s truck. “Conversation over.” You’re still smiling playfully at Tommy as you clamber into the back of the truck, sighing when the air conditioner hits.

Just like that, back to the same old same old sunny, shithole state of Texas. Joel looks at you in the rearview mirror and winks at you. You guess not everything has to stay the same these days.

[moremaybank]

BREEDING — j.m

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, fingering, language/dirty talk

author's note happy first day of kinktober, lovelies! don't forget to like and reblog! ♡︎

kinktober masterlist ;; jj masterlist

⋆༺♱༻⋆

“Love this pussy. I love it. So wet and creamy and tight, princess. Can’t fuckin’ stop.” 

Looking down at where you two were joined, it was a sight that he marvelled at. Your pussy sucked him in tight despite how long he’d been inside you, hot and soaked and promising to stay that way just for him. His cock was drenched, coated in the creamy goodness of both your past releases. He’d been shooting his cum deep inside you for a while now, with no signs of stopping. It dripped out of you, creating a trail from your seeping entrance down to your ass, and then soaking the sheets beneath you. 

You leaned up onto your elbows, one hand snaking around the back of his neck so you could pull him into a searing kiss. He moaned into your mouth, tongue dancing with yours desperately as he tasted himself on you. When you pulled away, your fingers scratched at his scalp lightly before you tugged on his locks. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop until you’re fucking empty, J. Want it all."

He kissed you again, hard. Your words ignited a fire in him that he’d previously thought was starting to burn out due to his exhaustion. Somehow, thanks to you, his energy spiked and he started to move faster, guiding your legs tight around his waist to be closer to you. His hands slid down to your hips, using them as leverage while he pulled you toward him to meet his thrusts. 

“Pretty girl just wants to be filled ‘n covered with my cum, huh?” JJ taunted. His voice was fucked out, hoarse and breathy as he fucked into you deep. The tips of his blonde strands hung forward while his eyes roamed over you entirely. Your pretty tits bounced with the impact of his thrusts, the hand you had working at your clit. He reached your face, glowing and sticky from perspiration, your kiss-swollen lips parted, allowing your euphoric sounds to escape. The same ones that sent him into a trance and drove him to fulfill every single one of your wishes. 

“I wanna drown in it, daddy.” 

A low growl emitted from his lips.  “So fuckin’ dirty, baby. Gonna knock you up for sure, make you the prettiest mama on the island.”

“Yeah?” You asked. “You want everyone to know whose pussy this is?”

“Damn fuckin’ right. Whose is it, baby?” He smacked your hand away and thumbed at your clit while his eyes held yours in a locked gaze. “Tell me.” 

Your toes curled as warmth spread throughout your lower belly for the umpteenth time that night. “Yours, J.”

“Louder.”

“Yours!” Your brows pulled together, your head flung backward as JJ fucked into you with reckless abandon. Every last bit of him shoved into you, nudging your cervix harshly and stretching you out wide. Your stroke on his possessive side did wonders, allowing JJ to fuck you the way his carnal desires craved. His skin smacked against yours loudly, and he felt himself on the verge of his orgasm. “Gimme your cum, baby. Please.” 

“God, fuck!” His voice echoed off the walls as he released hot spurts inside of you, painting your walls with his cum again. The squelching noises oozing from your pussy sounded like heaven and felt even better as he slipped in and out of you, helping you reach your high. You clutched onto his length hard, milking him as you started to unravel. Your moans changed to cries as you dove headfirst over the edge. “That’s right. Take my fucking cum, baby. Take it. All of it.” 

He punctuated his orders with cruel, deep thrusts, going and going until he knew you’d come down from your orgasm. Slowly, he pulled out, still toying with your clit as he ducked down and buried his face in your pussy. His kisses granted you sloppy kisses over your puffy folds. 

“Show me,” he said. “Come on. Show daddy, baby. Show me how much cum that pretty pussy’s holding.” 

You pushed his cum out of you as per his request, feeling it seep out of you. His eyes shone with wonder as he let out an excited gasp. “Wow. Look at that. Pussy’s so good, baby. Held so much of me.” 

You let out a whine when you felt his fingers scooped up his release and pushed it back into you. His other hand ran up your body, cradling your cheek as his thumb swept across your skin. The action was soothing, trying to encourage you. “Can’t waste a drop, baby. Want you carryin’ my baby by the time I’m done with you.” 

“J, baby, I can’t.” 

“Shh.” His fingers abandoned your cunt, shoving themselves into your mouth to quiet your whimpers. He gripped the base of his cock, sliding his length up and down your core in a warning. His tip caught against your clit, causing your hips to jerk up. He then slotted himself back inside of you, sliding back inside of you with an easy glide. 

Though overstimulated, your pussy still clenched around him. You were still hazy, the effects of your last orgasm not having abandoned you yet. Your head slumped against the pillow beneath it, and you shivered when JJ started to move slowly.

“See? You’re still squeezin’ me, pretty girl. Know you can take it. Wanna give you more cum, let me give you more.” 

⋆༺♱༻⋆

JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @pankowperfection @taintedxkisses @mvybanks @softherveauxs @rafesveryrealgf @dreamingwithrafe @maybankslover @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @sya-skies @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @jeyusosgirl @urbestieboo @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @jjmaybanksgun

[alrightieaphroditie]

screwed | j.m series masterlist | next part!

pairing *:·ﾟjoel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ2.2k an *:·ﾟ.... yeah i don't know where this came from. i've literally been itching to write for joel but the man makes me so nervous. not too sure how much i like this but i think this will be the beginning of a lil series so hopefully i can make it work! pleaase let me know if this is bad lmao i really appreciate any feedback! i hope you enjoy!

synopsis *:·ﾟyou can't stand the sight of joel miller sitting alone - again - at the tipsy bison, so you finally decide to introduce yourself to him.

you knew who joel miller was before you even officially met the man. 

granted, anyone in jackson could’ve made that same claim. it wasn’t like you were special or anything, really. but when tommy came into the community, it only took him a few weeks to get settled in. it took about the same time for him to casually be able to mention his brother into almost every conversation. 

helping some of the guys out with making plans for a new building? joel miller would’ve been great at that. trying out a batch of the new whiskey they had made? joel miller would’ve been all over that. brushing the horses and maintaining the stalls? tommy actually wasn’t sure how joel would feel about this one, but he made sure that everyone knew his brother would do it if asked, no hesitation.

so, when you heard that joel miller had shown up near jackson, and was going to be entering the community, you felt like you had a decent understanding of the man. however, you weren’t anticipating joel miller to look… like that. even now, you still remember being huddled outside near the entrance of the town, bundled up in an oversized jacket. as the gates opened and you first caught a glance at the older, taller man walking through, you felt your cheeks burn bright red. 

your first thought about joel miller? he was unrightfully handsome. 

it wasn’t until after joel and the girl he came in with, who you later learned was named ellie, got settled that the rumors started to spread. you weren’t entirely sure where the source came from, but soon enough the town of jackson was talking about joel as much as his own brother had, but this time it was accompanied by whispering, stolen glances, and an air of hesitancy. 

you were never one to gossip, but you couldn’t help yourself strain to listen to those whispers floating around. you couldn’t understand how someone who was as highly praised by tommy, a man so well trusted within jackson, could be so ostracized in the community. you heard mumbles of him being a hunter, previously. of him murdering innocent people for his own selfish ways. of how some people didn't feel as safe in the community now with this big, bad man roaming around. 

the thing was, you had gotten quite close to ellie in the weeks that they had been there. she appeared at your house one day, standing near the curb as she watched you and some of the towns children haphazardly building a snowman. you caught her eye, waved her over, and that was that. she was your new best friend. she showed up on your doorstep almost every day after, and the two of you would talk about almost anything. especially about joel. she was very much like tommy in the sense that ellie could relate almost anything back to that man, and she meant it as praise. she really did look up to him. 

during your talks, while you sat at your small dining table with cups of tea (which, ellie had decided she quite liked chamomile tea, so you made sure you stocked up for her) you learned more about the man that joel was, and with every conversation, you found yourself wanting to simply know more about joel. ellie often referred to him as a 'scary motherfucker' but the fondness that laced her voice betrayed her. it was because of ellie that you were part of the minority of the town that was not afraid of joel miller. 

and it was then that you knew you needed to do something. it wasn’t really the whispers, the rumors, that bothered you. there wasn’t much to do in jackson, truthfully, so when people needed the entertainment, they tended to make it themselves. a few weeks ago, you were the center of it, the people claiming you were glowing from pregnancy from a hookup that quite honestly never even happened. all you could do was laugh. the people would believe whatever they wanted to, even if you were adamantly insisting otherwise. 

the thing that got you, though, was how joel seemed to have almost expected being treated poorly, being totally unwelcomed in this small town. how he seemed to be fine quietly eating dinner alone almost every night when ellie wasn’t around or tommy had patrol duty, then sitting alone, again, at the bar with a shot of whiskey. the way he seemed so comfortable being alone, and yet you couldn’t help but notice the yearning in his eyes as they shifted around. the weariness. as if he was used to everyone in his life leaving him, alone, and he was the only one left to pick up the pieces. 

so, one evening, almost a month and a half later, when you walked into the tipsy bison for dinner and saw joel sitting in the back - his usual spot, his back to the wall, facing the door - alone, again, you paused in the doorway. his gaze was focused on the lone glass of whiskey in front of him, his fingers trailing the rim slightly. the image sent a shock of pain in your heart for some reason, and before you even realized it, your footsteps were carrying you to him. 

his gaze shot up as you drew near, and you watched as his eyebrow quirked up slightly. you cleared your throat softly, suddenly feeling more nervous than you probably should've, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your sweatshirt the dead giveaway of your anxiety. 

"hi," you managed to get out as you stepped up the edge of the table. his brown eyes were staring intently into yours, and you swear you saw the corner of his mouth quirk up. "i know you've been here a little while now and i just realized i never got around to properly introducing myself. i'm-"

"i know who you are. the kid never shuts up about you." he interrupted, raising the glass to his lips, and taking a sip of his drink. you trained your eyes to stay on his, focusing really hard to not let your gaze go to his lips as he licked them. 

you felt your cheeks flush almost immediately, and a small smile found its way to your lips. all this time that you felt like you had known who joel was, and for some reason, you weren't prepared to hear the slight southern accent in his voice. you thought it was cute. "well, i hope that's a good thing," you motioned to the chair on the other side of the table. "may i?" 

his face gave away nothing, and it could have just been you, but his eyes widened slightly at the question. he hesitated for a split second before nodding his head to the chair, shifting back in his own seat. "sure, have at it. s'long as you’re not afraid to be mingling with the town outcast." he gave you a grin at the self-deprecating joke, and you didn't want to but you couldn't help but laugh. 

"oh, i promise you aren't the town outcast. i think that title goes to jimmy. i haven't seen him around town in weeks, but i know he's home because he keeps shovelin' his driveway." you teased, smiling even more to yourself as joel huffed out a laugh before drinking again. "besides, ellie doesn't think you're all that bad. that must count for something, yeah?" 

his eyes went soft at the mention of the girl, which caused your heart to melt. he shook his head while examining the glass again, his finger wiping off a bit of condensation on the side. "that girl is about as fearless as it gets. not sure you really wanna be followin' in her footsteps." 

"i'll take my chances, then." you traced a crack in the wood on the table, suddenly feeling a little awkward. you weren't the best with people, having been quite the introvert before the outbreak. good to know somethings never really changed. "how are you liking it in jackson so far?" 

"s'alright. i never thought something like this could be possible again," he trailed off, draining the rest of his drink in one go. he leaned back in his chair, arms folded against his chest. you couldn't help but notice how his long sleeve shirt stretched across his broad arms. "'m happy that tommy was able to find a community like this." he confesses, which makes you smile. the one thing you had learned from both tommy and ellie was how loyal joel was, especially to his family. it was a trait you heavily admired, and something you genuinely didn't see nowadays. it was every man for himself out here. well, not in jackson, but that's besides the point. 

"it is pretty great," you agreed. you didn't know where you would be without the community. you had somehow luckily stumbled upon them from the woods as you escaped from a group of hunters that had kept you and your best friend captive. maria had seen you and instantly took you in, giving you space to heal while becoming comfortable again. you didn't share this joel, although you felt the strange urge to, to maybe help joel see that the town wasn't all that bad and that there was good in it. 

"so, i admit i had a secret agenda coming over here. i wanted to ask you something." you tucked your hair behind your ears, trying to muster up the courage to ask. you weren't scared of joel miller, but god he was really intimidating. you weren't sure what you would do if he turned you down.

"oh?" he looked intrigued, that eyebrow of his quirking up slightly again. his expression was soft, almost inviting. "well ask away, sugar."

sugar. your blood rushed in your ears at the endearment. 

"well, i wanted to invite you and ellie over for dinner one night. i already mentioned it to her earlier, but i figured i should probably ask you directly as well." you confessed with a small laugh. ellie swore she would mention it to joel, but then the next second she was asking you about one of the books you had on the counter, and you really can't be sure that she remembered your invitation. 

joel was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you in a way that made your knee bounce. the silence made your thoughts go into overdrive. maybe you misread joel earlier when you believed him to be lonely. maybe he really did just enjoy his own company and maybe he didn't want some strange girl inviting him over and interrupting his time. and maybe - 

"i'd like that, yeah." he responded quietly, tilting his head slightly in your direction as a subtle nod. it could've just been the whiskey, but you could've sworn his eyes shined in the light. you stared at him for a moment. your brain and thoughts catching up to the confirmation joel gave you. 

"oh, perfect!" you resisted the urge to clap your hands in excitement. and you were excited, but you didn't want joel to know just how much lest you come off as some crazed woman. with the way he looked he probably dealt with that all the time, right? 

"okay, well, ellie already knows where my house is so that covers that. if you both don't have duties tomorrow, we could do it then? or if you wanted, we could schedule it for next week or somethin'?" you were well aware that you were rambling, but you couldn't help it. joel didn't seem to mind it, though, as he gazed at you while you talked with your hands. 

"tomorrow's fine with us, 'm pretty sure." he adjusted himself in his chair, the old wood creaking slightly under his weight. “i appreciate the gesture, too. nice to know i haven’t scared everyone off.” you think he’s teasing with you, his grin almost invisible but you can see it. tommy never said his brother had a good sense of humor, but you were starting to wonder if there was a different side of joel that he was letting you see. you felt like you could run 10 laps around the border of the town with the way your heart was racing after his grin. 

“of course! truthfully it’s more for me than it is for you; i got a little sad seeing you in here alone almost every night.” you started to laugh, but then your words caught up to your ears and you realize you inadvertently told joel you’ve been watching him. embarrassed, cheeks flushed with heat, you stood up quickly, tucking your chair back under the table. 

“well, it was nice to finally meet you, mr. miller. i’ll see y’all tomorrow night!” the words rushed out between your lips as you slowly backed away from the table, giving joel a small wave before turning around. he probably thought you were acting like a fool, but you knew you needed to get out of the building before you said something worse. 

as you passed the tables towards the exit, you could’ve sworn that you heard a deep chuckle coming from the corner of the room, coming from the table that you just vacated. 

oh boy, you thought. you were officially screwed when it came to joel miller.

[tightjeansjavi]

My Dearest,

A/N: so, while I was in Galena for my girls trip this weekend…my friend and I went into a bookstore and that’s where the inspiration struck! Ulysses Grant wrote letters to his wife (My Dearest Julia) from June 4th, 1844 to February 2, 1854. Of course I immediately had to throw Joel into the narrative, with a twist ;) please have your tissue boxes at the ready for this one and remember, fiction can’t hurt you! Also, big thank you and kisses to @beardedjoel for sobbing along with me while I wrote these series of letters 💘 P.S I know California wasn’t founded as a state until 1850…but let’s just pretend!

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: a series of letters written by Joel Miller, a hopeless romantic yearning for your embrace once more.

Pairing | forbidden love!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: angst, allusion to smut, infertility, pining, hopeless romantic, unrequited love, forbidden love, major character death, alcoholism, death by alcohol poisoning, yearning, no age gap, mentions of social status, somewhat historically accurate language, no happy ending, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is my dearest, +18 minors dni! (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealously drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel.

-

July 13, 1844

My Dearest,

California is beautiful and my eyes are seeing the ocean for the very first time. I wonder what your view is? Last I heard you were moving to New York. Is it true? Please tell me it’s a lie. I would be naive to think that what is written in the papers to be false, but my heart is still holding on. Are you moving to New York because of me? I’m so sorry, my dearest. We should have been more careful. I can still smell your perfume, and feel the ghost of your lips on my skin. I am no poet, but if I was, perhaps your father would think highly of me.

I dream of you even in the daytime.

Please write to me, dearest.

J.M

-

September, 7th 1844

My Dearest,

There is a sweetness on my tongue that I have not felt the indulgence of for many moons and suns. I worried that I would never hear from you again, that I would become another distant memory fading into ash. I forbade this from happening, dearest. We are thousands of miles apart, and all I wish for is to see your face once more. Do you wish for the same, dearest? To see your Joel, to feel his warm embrace? Please don’t forget me, please. I know in your heart that you still feel for me. California calls your name as it did mine. Come back to me, dearest.

Yours most affectionately,

Joel

-

January 12th, 1845

My Dearest,

I have not heard from you in months and my heart cannot bare it any longer. Why do you not write to me, dearest? I’ve enrolled in classes, maybe I’ll even become the next great American author! Would your father accept me then, if I was no longer a penniless man? I think he would. Your father is a very simple man in those regards. If only my status in society didn’t matter. Do you lie awake in bed and think of me, dearest? Does your dream state float off to the thoughts of your Joel? My dearest, my love for you has not changed, only grown stronger. Has yours for me felt all the same?

Joel

-

July 11th, 1845

My Dearest,

I write to you with a heavy heart and an anger that has never once possessed me. Please tell me it isn’t true. That you have fallen for another, the rich banker's son? It cannot be true. The papers lie, dearest. Your heart belongs to me, does it not? It must. You promised! You said that no matter what happened, no matter the consequences, we would end up together. You spoke those words so sweetly upon my ear when I laid beneath your sheets, dearest. Back in Texas, in your abandoned home, the stench of me still lingers. When you receive this letter, close your eyes and imagine me there with you, wherever that may be. I’ll come to New York, I swear it. I’ll come find you!

Please, write to me soon, dearest. Do not allow this to be the end of our story, I beg of you.

Yours always,

Joel Miller

-

October, 1845

My Dearest,

This morning I write to you about the thoughts of reminiscing on our love. Something so sweet, fresh, ripened, but not yet spoiled. Do you remember the night we first met? We were just children then. All bright eyed and filled with curiosity. I remember the bows in your braided hair, your mother scolding you for them, slapping your cheek and yanking them from your braids. You wept with your face buried in your hands, and I comforted you. Your mother taught you how to curtsey, how to engage in small talk and forced you to wear those unbreathable garments that you hated so. I showed you how to run, to make mud pies and swim in the river. Do you remember the night of our first kiss? The first time our lips touched and my life held a meaning again? The foul mouthed, stable hand boy winning the affections of a girl such as you. If I bring my fingers to my lips now, I can feel your kiss there, too. I moved back to Texas, dearest. I wanted to feel closer to you. Write to me soon, and in your letter tell me that you wish for me to come to New York to be with you.

I am inconsolable without your presence at my side.

Yours devotedly,

Joel Miller

P.S. Every night I pray to the moon and stars that we will be in one another’s embrace very soon. I have never been a religious man by any means, but I find myself praying for you, my dearest.

-

March 29th, 1846

My Dearest,

It is spring once again, and everything is in bloom! A new family has moved into your abandoned home, and I am back to my roots. I have given up my dreams to be an author, but I write to you, still. I missed being around the horses more than you could possibly imagine. There’s a piece missing here, and that piece is you. The new family I work for has a daughter around your age. She’s pretty, beautiful even, but she’s not you, my dearest. She’ll never be you. Her hair isn’t the right length, her eyes the wrong shade, her laugh isn’t yours, her mannerisms are all wrong. She yearns for my affections, but my heart belongs to another. I will not commit adultery against you, my sweet. Even in my loneliest hours, I will not give into my sins against you. She would make a fine wife, and her parents are unlike your own, but she will never be you, and she will never possess my heart.

I yearn for you.

Your Joel

-

July 2nd, 1846

My Dearest,

I write to you with sweat dripping down my brow. I cannot sleep, the Texas heat has played a cruel trick upon my mind. I awoke to your voice, whispering my name through the billowing curtains. I taste your sweet kiss and the oncoming summer storm, but you are not here. Am I going insane? I fear that I am. What is the weather like in New York? Write to me soon, I beg of you.

Joel Miller

-

September 23rd, 1847

My Dearest,

I am facing my loneliest night yet, and I picture you laying beside me beneath my sheets. I have scrapped up enough money to finally buy you a ring! Isn’t that the most wonderful news? Tomorrow evening, after supper, I will head into town to the jewelers and buy you a ring that shines more brilliantly than the heavens above. You’ll wait for me, won’t you? Promise me that you will.

With love,

Your Joel

-

January, 1848

My Dearest,

Today is the day where I wish I never awoke. I wish to stay in a sweet slumber where my dreams are filled with you. You cannot marry him, please. Tell your father that you don’t accept the banker's son’s hand in marriage! He will never know you as I do, my dearest. He will never satisfy you the way that I can. He will turn his nose up at your politics, your drinking habits, your antics and wildness. But I love you as so. Come back to me, runaway with me. I can give you so much happiness if you only let me. How will your husband to-be react when he finds that you cannot bear him children? When the marriage is to be consummated, and he strips you of your skirts and touches you where only I have been, how will he feel? I worry for you, my dearest. I remember the night that we first became one. Do you still think of the way I moved in you? I still feel the phantom crescents of your nails in my back. I wish the marks left there were permanent, so I would always have a piece of you with me. Tell me that you remember the way that my kisses feel, my taste on your tongue, my voice, my body moving with yours. There was a time when you wanted to bear my children, and begged me to fill your womb with my seed. We waited and waited, but your womb never swelled with life no matter how many times we tried. You assumed my feelings for you would sour, but they only grew.

If you accept the banker's son's hand in marriage, I wish to never see the sunrise again.

Joel Miller

-

May 7th, 1848

My Dearest,

I have never wept more than I have this morn. I shredded the papers, I pounded my fists into the earth and spooked every horse in the stable. Even the heavens weep with me, my dearest. Can I even call you that any longer? You wear his ring upon your finger, awake beneath his sheets, smelling of him. I’m sorry, my dearest. I’m sorry I could never be enough for you. I have tried so hard, and have continued to fail. My heart aches, and I wish I could rip it from my chest and stab it till all movement ceases. I wish to not feel any longer. I have lost all hope, and I fear that my attempts to hear from you have been fruitless. My devoted letters are out there, somewhere. Or perhaps you have collected them. Perhaps you did not awaken in his sheets. Perhaps you are on your way back to me. I’ll wait for you, my dearest.

Undoubtedly yours,

Joel Miller

-

June 4th, 1848

My Dearest,

In my loneliest hour, I write to you. If you ever receive this letter, do not weep for me. You and I were cut from a separate cloth since birth. I was not born into wealth. I was not fed from silver spoons. My clothes are tattered, the soles of my boots are worn down. All I have to my name is my penmanship and my memories of you. Think of me sweetly, will you? I wish you only happiness and love. I have turned into a drunk, my dearest. Alcohol soothes my mind, woes, and ailments. I hear your voice so vividly when I am in this state. You’re here beside me now, watching as I write my final letter. I can reach out and touch your cheek, soft, supple. You smell of saccharine honey and lavender fields. Your laugh is my favorite tune, and I can hear it now. Sing me a lullaby, my darling as I close my eyes and dream of you for a final time. If another universe exists, I hope I am rich. I hope I am the wealthiest man who is adored by your mother and father. I hope that on the night we meet again, I present you with a ring forged from my heart, a piece of me that has forever belonged to you. I hope I am fed from a silver spoon, dressed in the finest garments, attend every gala with you on my arm as my lady, my wife, my reason to live. I hope to bless you with as many children as you so desire. I have always loved you, my dearest, from the moment we met, I have been yours.

Farewell,

Your Joel.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💖

Follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

[jjwantsme]

34+35

j.m

pairing: jj maybank x kook!reader

summary: four times they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, and the one time they were caught.

warnings: nsfw, piv, praise kink, oral (f receiving),boob sucking, public sex, spit, a little of sub!jj, degradation kink, cussing, let me know it i missed anything :)

authors note: this is my first actual smut on tumblr so PLEASE have some mercy on me 🥲

masterlist

y/n and JJ were truly obsessed with each other. not in a lovey-dovey cute way- i mean, that too- but in a lustful perverted way.

ever since the week they got together, the pogues couldn’t recall one day where the boy’s neck wasn’t covered in love bites, or where his cheeks didn’t have lipstick stains on them.

they thought- or should i say, hoped- that it was a honeymoon phase type of thing, that their sex life would calm down after the first few weeks of being together.

oh, how they were utterly wrong.

it’d now been a year and a half, and if anything, it’s gotten worse. much, much worse.

i know what you’re thinking. ‘it can’t be that bad!’

so, here i am, providing you five instances to prove just how bad it is.

the first time

“J, we don’t have time!” y/n squealed when her boyfriend had pinned her against the door.

“no worries,” JJ mumbled as he kissed down her neck, “i’ll be quick.”

y/n had missed her alarm, after a moan-filled night, making her late for work. and JJ wanted to let her get ready, he really did, but how can he resist her when she’s in those pajamas?

it wasn’t long before JJ had his hand wrapped around his long cock as he pulled her lace panties to the side, “jus’ woke up so needy for you, babe. need to feel you.”

y/n couldn’t do anything but whine and gasp in pleasure when she recognized the feeling of his length destroying the walls of her pussy, her nails immediately going to his tan back.

“fuck, JJ!”

“i know, i know,” JJ cooed as he slid all the way into her, “jus’ let me destroy this pussy real quick, yeah? you gonna let me do that?”

the girl choked out a moan as she nodded.

he kept a tight hold on her, her back still against the door, as he began bouncing her on his cock, a groan escaping his swollen pink lips.

“y’gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that, princess,” he groaned, before letting out a much louder moan, letting a hand go down to grip her ass.

moans filled up the entire house, echoing throughout the walls as y/n made it known just how good she felt.

“please, please cum, please, i wanna feel it inside me so bad, please, J” she started begging, making his eyes rolls to the back of his head.

“wanna be your cockslut every morning, J, oh fuck- i’m gonna cum!-“ she chanted over and over.

“that’s it, cum on my cock, baby, make me happy,”

she granted his wish as she felt her orgasm wash over her, his following close behind as his cock twitched before releasing.

one last moan fell from y/n’s lips as the bouncing slowly came to a stop, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath.

“damn,” JJ breathed out. “you gotta start waking up late more often.”

the second time

“what about this one? is this dress okay?” y/n asked as she stepped out of the dressing room in yet another dress, JJ looking up from his phone and smiling at her.

“baby, you look like a goddess in everything you wear. how am i supposed to help you choose?”

y/n rolled her eyes but chuckled. “JJ, midsummer is in two days. two! i have to get a dress or my parents will be pissed; so you’re gonna have to start being more detailed with your reviews.”

she did a little twirl, “so, thoughts?”

JJ bit his lip, his thoughts becoming less and less pure the longer he stared at her. “definitely compliments the…chest area.”

“J, be serious!”

“oh, trust me, I’m being serious.”

he felt a smirk crawl onto his face, “how about i help you take this one off?”

“mm…” she couldn’t deny the fact that it was a nice idea. her fingers were tired from zipping up so many dresses, anyway. “fine. no funny business, though!”

JJ giggled like a little boy and quickly got up, leaving his phone behind as he followed her into the dressing room.

it wasn’t long before he had the door locked with y/n in his lap.

“babe, i said no funny business,” y/n whined as he began unzipping the dress off of her.

“mm, sshh, jus’ helping you get undressed.”

y/n rolled her eyes and began pulling the dress down, causing her plump breasts to bounce as she moved her body.

“goddamn, baby,” JJ whistled quietly as he moved a hand to grip her left boob, squeezing it lightly with his hand.

y/n couldn’t help but bite her lip, “J…” she warned.

“can i suck them, please, baby? please, just let me put that little nipple in my mouth,” he tweaked her right nipple with his index finger, making her groan.

“J, we’re in public…”

he smirked, taking her reply as a yes to his question.

“that just means we gotta be quiet.”

JJ dipped his head down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth as she immediately arched her back, making access even easier for him.

y/n ran her fingers through his hair, making him groan around her nipple before releasing it to bite hickeys all around her boob. he licked the mark he left and went to her other breast, nibbling gently on the nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

“mmh, so good, J. Such a good boy for me.”

JJ moaned at the praise, lightly bucking his hips as his boner became painfully hard.

he licked all around her nipple while continuing to buck his hips into her ass, trying to relieve his clothed bulge with any kind of pleasure.

“love being your good boy, love sucking on these pretty titties,” he fit as much of her boob into his mouth as he could, squeezing the other one in his hand.

y/n tugged on his hair in pleasure, grinding down to meet his thrusts.

JJ released her from his mouth and hummed slightly, licking her nipple one last time before moving up to kiss her red lips.

so much for finding the right dress, y/n thought.

the third time

JJ pulled y/n into a closet at the midsummer party, locking it behind him.

“J, my parents will kill me.” she warned him, wrapping her arms around his neck out of instinct when he gripped her waist.

“not if they don’t find out.”

he connected their lips, a messy makeout being the turn out as their tongues mixed together.

JJ pulled away from the kiss, a wild look in his eyes. “you just look so gorgeous tonight,”

he began kissing down her neck, “wanna taste you.”

in no time, JJ had her thighs over his shoulders as he pressed a kiss on her clothed clit.

y/n jolted with a moan at the action.

he slid her panties down, revealing her puffy wet pussy as heat radiated from between her legs.

“such a pretty pussy, princess.”

he licked a long stripe from her entrance to her clit, making her cover her mouth to quiet her moans.

she knew she had to be quiet. their friends and family were just outside, after all.

he licked all over, connecting with her folds and sucking on her swollen clit.

JJ starts eating her pussy like a mad man, the obnoxious sound of him licking her weeping cunt filling the dark closet.

his warm muscle laps at her hole with a sense of greed as he whimpered into it, the taste of her pussy giving him just as much pleasure.

he made sure not to let her clit go untouched, though. spitting on it before reattaching his mouth to it, sucking on it as if it was his favorite lollipop. which, between you and me, it was his favorite lollipop.

it soon became too much for y/n, the sight of his head between her thighs mixed with the feeling of his tongue abusing her hole. she felt it before she even heard it, her orgasm bubbling before crashing down onto JJ’s tongue, him licking her clean.

JJ licked his lips before placing a few kisses around her clit, her hole clenching around nothing at the feeling.

he then looked up at her, eyes blown out and chin glistening with her juices.

“thank you for letting me eat your sweet pussy, my love.”

the fourth time

it seemed like a normal drive for the rest of the pogues.

they all sat in the car on the way to the pier, kiara and john b in the front as y/n and JJ sat in the back.

little did they know, JJ and y/n were having some fun of their own.

“better keep quiet, baby,” JJ whispered into her ear as he had three fingers deep inside her. “wouldn’t want our friends to know you’re a dirty slut, would you?”

y/n shook her head as she bit back a moan, digging her head into JJ’s shoulder.

he moved his fingers in and out, a large cocky smirk plastered on his face as she whimpered into his shirt.

“you okay back there, y/n?” john b asked after hearing one of her quiet whines, keeping his eyes on the road.

her cheeks grew red in embarrassment while JJ’s smirk grew bigger in amusement.

she looked up him as she bit her lip, begging for any hint of mercy.

he looked at her then back at john b, “yeah, she’s good, her stomach just hurts.”

“oh, okay. probably just motion sickness.” he nodded in response, just as y/n came all over his best friend’s fingers.

poor thing. he had no idea.

the fifth, and final, time

“we’re gonna get in trouble!” y/n whisper-yelled at JJ after he pulled her out of class, just for a quickie.

he scoffed, “yeah, right.”

he was right, though. they never did.

he led her into the girls bathroom, making her gasp in a mix of surprise and guilt.

“you’re a boy! you shouldn’t be in h-“

JJ cut her off with a kiss, which quickly became heated as he began unzipping his pants.

though, lucky for him, they were interrupted just before he was able to pull anything out.

“ahem,” the vice principal cleared her throat as she stood in the doorway, looking at them with nothing but pure judgement.

y/n immediately pulled away from the kiss, a mortified look on her face as she realized her biggest fear had came true.

they had been caught in the act.

“mrs. shelly-“

“no! this is unacceptable, and both of you will be following me to the principal’s office!” she scolded them before turning around on her heel and heading towards their destination, content when she heard their footsteps close behind her.

“well,” JJ whispered into his poor girlfriend’s ear.

“looks like our reign of terror is over.”

[positivelybeastly]

I would've loved to have known more about the other Xmen if I didn't feel like the worst group of friends towards beast.

Well, then, let me give you some recommendations for X-Men runs where Hank and various members of the X-Men are the best of friends!

X-Men: First Class, by Jeff Parker!

Honestly, I always recommend this run to everyone who wants to start reading X-Men, but doesn't know where to go, especially if they're interested in going from the 'start.' So much more digestible than the 60s run, but still in continuity with it, it's a lot more slice-of-life and adventure of the week while still having a strong back bone of character work.

It isn't solely a Scott and Jean book, either, which a lot of more recent O5 books (All-New X-Men and X-Men: Blue especially) suffer from - Hank, Bobby, and Warren all get a decent amount of focus, and you see why this is a bond that persisted as long as it did.

Defenders/New Defenders, by J.M. DeMatteis and Peter B. Gillis!

I don't know if this is the most underrated runs of comic books in all of Marvel's history, but it's got to be up there. Deep, fulfilling character work on Beast (you can really tell that he was a favourite of DeMatteis'), and some really top notch interactions between him, Bobby and Warren, as well as an awesome friend dynamic in the team!

80s Marvel really does just hit different, honestly - the idea that you could go into a grocery store in the 1980s, pick up a copy of this, Claremont's Uncanny X-Men, Nocenti's Daredevil, Simonson's Thor, and still have enough money for a soda and candy is just insane to me. Just, a fucking great time for comic books. But yeah! My single biggest recommendation for anyone who wants to read Beast. It's become easily one of my very favourite comics ever. I recommend starting at issue #94!

New X-Men, by Grant Morrison!

Maybe not the first run you think of when you think about Hank being everyone's friend, but it really is present here - Hank is there for everyone, and, in a rare turn of events, they're actually there for him, too! His friendship with Emma is quietly understated, he and Jean are a brother and sister duo if ever there was one, and he's easily Scott's best friend here.

Wolverine and the X-Men, by Jason Aaron!

A very fun book! A lot of event tie-ins, which can be annoying, but very zany, very off the wall, with some decent character work. Issue #8 especially has one of my favourite Beast fights in all of comics, and I love his friendships with Logan, Kitty, and Broo in this book. It's also a great place to get a taster for a lot of other X-characters - if you see someone here you like, you can glom on to them and follow them elsewhere!

Storm, by Greg Pak!

Smek.

I love Greg Pak's work, pretty much uniformly, and this is a very fun book that exquisitely articulates what's to love about Storm, as well as tackles a lot of different aspects and angles of the mutant metaphor. Lots of crossover with Wolverine and the X-Men, since they were releasing roughly contemporary with one another, but that's no bad thing, to be honest.

Amazing X-Men, by Jason Aaron!

Hank's only in the first five issues here, but he's great fun, and this is a great gateway into a lot of 'classic' X-Men who appear here that you might find yourself going, 'hmmm, I wonder what their deal is,' and then you can go from there! Very classic book, very fun, I enjoyed it quite a bit.

Astonishing X-Men, by Matthew Rosenberg!

Specifically, issues #13-17 of volume 4 (yes, comics books are fun, aren't they?) The X-Men are all rather caustic to one another here, and part of the joke is that they're all a little washed up (mostly Alex), but I honestly really like Hank's dynamic with everyone here, and you can tell Rosenberg has a lot of affection for the character. It's also another great gateway into other characters - I found this while doing my big Hank readthrough, thought my boyfriend would enjoy it, and now he's a die hard Havok fan. Amazing what just five issues can do, isn't it?

I do go on a bit about the ways in which the X-Men have failed Hank in various ways during his tenure, the ways in which they could have been there for him and weren't - but, despite what some writers might say, these people are usually Hank's friends. Maybe not his best friends, but there were, and are, good moments to be had here. It's best to try and embrace positivity where you can, friend. It's a better way to live.

[doverstar]

Behold! Your wish of having a four hour intellectual conversation with your favorite historical figure has been granted. How much would they lead the conversation and how much would you? Intricately describe what you would talk about and why.

Oh, wow! Such a good, thoughtful question, thank you! Well! C.S. Lewis is probably my favorite historical figure; I never gave that title much thought before. J.M. Barrie would be in the running, but if I want to have an intellectual conversation with someone, it's going to be with a Christian who is smarter than me, not just with a storyteller who is smarter than me. I would say I'd try to make it 50/50 as to who's leading, but that all depends on what he responded with! I would ask him about what he said in regards to Heaven in The Problem of Pain, and share my own thoughts. And I would argue with him about Chapter 15 of The Last Battle, and Emeth, and what was he thinking theologically with that? I can't really intricately describe it! I could try, but it would be so long. I don't need to ramble! It's simple when it's only four hours. I'd just want him to talk more about Heaven and that specific longing for it here, and about trees and dreams and colors - and I'd want to have an in-depth discussion with the author about his reasoning behind the incredibly-confusing and sometimes flat-out incorrect things in Emeth's story in an otherwise-excellent ending to a profound book series that tells the truth. (Have you read it?) That's all!

[loafsbakery]

hey stranger | j.m.

A/N: Long time no see :D Bee is just a nickname for the reader. character has no name and is still reader insert.

Synopsis: after a tense split between you and Joel, he finds you again, but do you want to see him anymore?

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: Age gap (15+ years) 

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader, OC!Emory x reader

Main Masterlist

You found Joel and Ellie at Frank and Bill’s house. A couple years after Joel met them, they found you. You were a teenager, and your brother had turned into a runner. 

Frank took pity on you, and asked Bill to take you in with them. He relented of course, but what choice did he really have. If Frank asked for something, Bill rarely ever denied him. 

What was supposed to be temporary turned long term. You stayed with them and they were the only family you had. They talked a whole lot about Tess and Joel, although you could see Bill’s dislike for the guy. 

You finally met him, and a younger girl. The first thing you noticed was how handsome he was despite the permanent scowl on his face. The second thing you noticed was the gun he held up to your face.

“What are you doin here?” He ushered the girl behind him and she listened dutifully.

You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the connections from his features to the descriptions of Bill and Frank. “Joel? Joel Miller?”

“What the hell.” He muttered under his breath. 

He lowers the gun slightly, but not by much. “Bill-” You swallow thickly. “He left a letter for you and... Tess, but she’s not- sorry, let me get it.”

Joel keeps his gun up as he follows you, Ellie not far behind. He notices the picture of the three of you together, and he wonders how Bill was able to find a camera. 

“Here.” You hold out a piece of paper with his name scribbled on it. He doesn’t take it, but the girl behind him takes it much to his dismay and reads it. 

You mess with your hands trying your best to not remember your own letter that he had left for you. Sadness displayed on every corner of your face as Ellie finished reading the letter. 

Joel’s face remained the same, although his gun was fully lowered now. He took the letter that explained who you were as well as everything else. It was most certainly his handwriting and his voice in those words. “He said you would come one day. I guess it’s nice to meet you finally.” 

He just grunts at your hospitality. Ellie rolls her eyes and sticks out her hand. “I’m Ellie.” She sticks out her hand and right as you are about to take it you see the mark.

“Shit.” You bite out, quickly grabbing your gun and point it at her. Joel moves quickly in front of her and his gun is on you again. “She’s infected Joel.”

“She’s not.” He grunts out.

Ellie holds her hands out in front of you. “I promise, I’m immune, I’ve had this for over three weeks. We’re trying to get a cure from it please. I promise.” 

Your brother’s eyes flash back into your memory, how he pleaded for death after being bitten and how you had to grant it to him. But she didn’t look anything like your brother did after a couple hours. And you assume Joel wouldn’t take a risk like that on himself either. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “Well, I’m Bee. Can I help?” 

Thus began your adventure with the pair and your unlikely relationship with Joel. Ellie was easy and could talk for hours, you and Ellie would have competitions to see if you could make Joel laugh. You were pushing 40 but still were so lively in comparison to Joel. 

“What do you miss about before, Joel?” You asked as Ellie slept behind you two.

He hardened almost instantly, he did this every time you asked of life before. You weren’t sure what it was, but you would have hoped he would confide in you one day. 

“I miss showers.” You laughed. “That and sushi probably.”

Joel coughed out a small laugh. “That raw fish is shit.”

You feigned hurt and slapped his shoulder. “Joel Miller you take that back.” 

He tried his damndest not to care about Ellie and not to love you. It was hard. So painfully hard not to love both of you. Ellie who was just as spunky and full of everything good like Sarah. Sarah who would have befriended Ellie if she could of. And you. You never not had a smile on your face, regardless of the situation. 

So he took care of you the only way he knew how. He kept you alive and got so incredibly mad when you would put yourself in danger. He loved you, but he would never let you know that. 

But you did. You knew it from the way he gave you an extra bar of food from his own stash, you knew it from the eyes he keeps on you when he thinks you can’t see. And one day you give Joel a kiss on the cheek. He coughs it off and looks away from you. You chuckle and squeeze his shoulder before going back to your sleeping bag. 

Then one day it blew up. You had met Tommy and his wife Maria and saw a picture of a young girl he kept in his coat pocket when it fell out. “Is this your daughter?” You asked Tommy with Ellie beside you.

He shook his head. “Niece.” The two of you obviously understood what that meant and a lump appeared in your throat. Your heart breaking for the man you have come to love. His hatred for the state of the world was already justified, but knowing this. You can’t imagine how he’s survived so long with the weight of this. 

A bit after you continue your journey without Tommy and Maria. You hug Joel from behind and he places his hands on top of yours, putting down the tools he was using to set up camp.

“Joel.” You whisper. “I’m so sorry about Sarah.” You thought it would maybe bring you closer but he pulled away.

“How did you- don’t. Don’t you mention her name.” Joel felt his heart break the way it did every time he let himself remember his baby. 

You step closer only for him to step back. “Joel, I love you, I just want to help you.” You might as well have slapped him from the way he looked about you.

He pointed a finger at you. “Don’t come snoopin’ in my life. You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now.” 

“I just want- I love you, and I know you love me. Please just let me in.”

Joel’s head shook from side to side. “No I don’t. I don’t know where you got that idea from but that ain’t it. I didn’t even want you to come with us, but really what choice do I have when you’re always puttin’ yourself where you don’t belong.” 

“Please, you don’t mean that.”

“Try me. You could leave right now and I wouldn’t care whether you ended up dead or alive.” In the same way as Joel’s, your heart broke, and what was left of it hurt your chest.

Joel took off, angry you brought Sarah up, angry all over again for the way she was taken from him. Ellie watched quietly as you cried and leaned against the wall holding yourself. She had gotten to know you pretty well, and she knew of everything you had gone through so she hugged you as you cried, trying to comfort you.

“I don’t think he meant it.” She would say.

You shook your head, tears staining her shirt. “I’m so sorry El, you have to be stronger than me okay? Promise?”

“Promise.” She wouldn’t know what that meant until the next morning when she woke up and you were gone. 

She woke up earlier than she would normally, she only knows that because Joel was still asleep. Ellie saw the note left by her sleeping bag, her name on it in a similar manner to the note Bill left long ago. 

I’m so sorry baby girl, I love you so much, please take care of yourself and Joel. He needs you. 

Ellie’s breathing picked up. Her worst fears coming true. You left her. Rationally, she knew why you left, but it didn’t change the overall fact that you left her. “Joel.” She cried out getting up. “Joel!” She cried harder and Joel bolted to her side with his gun in hand.

“What Ellie. Are you okay? Where is Bee, Ellie?” He asked looking all around for you. “Where is she?”

Ellie cried handing him the note you left. “She’s gone. She’s- she’s gone cause of you Joel! Because you were so mean to her. She-” Ellie’s crying caused her to start hiccuping and she couldn’t breathe. Joel lowered his gun, ignoring the pain in his chest and held her close. Crying how it was his fault you left and that you abandoned her. 

The guilt Joel failed to feel last night came at him full force, and there was nothing he could do. He wouldn’t be able to find you, and contrary to what he said last night, he cared about you a whole lot, and you being gone caused so much panic in his head knowing he couldn’t do anything. 

He couldn’t do anything but hold Ellie while she cried, his own feelings stifled by her loud ones. 

Ever since you were little you had someone looking over you. Your brother, Bill and Frank, Joel. You have never known what it was like to be truly alone. Until now anyway.

When you had to figure out the map by yourself. Figure out where to even go. You remembered something about Tommy being in Jackson. He was the only friend outside of Joel and Ellie that you had. So you attempted to make your way there, gun in hand, scared for your life.

There were a few incidents with clickers, one got a little too close for comfort, but you kept yourself safe. It was a feeling you never had before. You did protect yourself before, but in case you weren’t strong enough, someone was always there. And now you had no room for errors.

You were more nervous about bumping into someone, as only really crazy people wander out so far. Thankfully, your walk to Jackson didn’t include interacting with anyone really. 

But that also meant it was really lonely. You would cry to sleep hoping Joel and Ellie were okay. That they were safe and you were happy they had each other, because you were so lonely. 

It was your choice to leave, but it was only after the cruel things Joel had said, and it did look like he meant it. He never came to apologize, but you regret it a little if only for Ellie. 

It was too late, you had no idea where they were, and it would be dangerous for you to just wander with no real place in mind.

Eventually, you made it to Jackson and reunited with Tommy and Maria who welcomed you with open arms. Literally, you ran straight at them and hugged them tight, relishing in the human touch you missed so much.

“Bee, are Joel and Ellie okay?” Tommy asks worried.

You nod pulling back a bit. “Why are you here all alone, Bee?” Maria asks this time.

“It’s a- a bit of a story. I left. I don’t really think they needed me.” Tommy nods, understanding that his brother sabotaged himself from something good like he always does. 

Maria ignores the pensiveness from the younger Miller brother and ushers you in the town. “We have a couple new houses Tommy finished up, and there’s some jobs you can take up.” She explains.

They let you stay with them for that night, and you moved into your new house the next day. It was really close to the farm they had, so you decided to run it. Tommy had been going there periodically with Maria, but it needed constant care. You were more than willing to be surrounded by some animals. There was even a German Shepard who took to you quickly named Lily. She was about six years old, and she was the sweetest. 

A few weeks after feeling settled you decided to go out to the town bar that everyone frequented. You sat with Maria chatting as Tommy socialized with the other townspeople. 

“Emory has been looking at you since we got here.” You turn to see who she meant and it was the same guy who kept coming to the farm with new appliances for the animals. He always made things. “He’s cute, Bee.

“He stops by the farm a lot, I didn’t realize I never knew his name.” You explain, but as you go to turn back around he walks towards you sitting beside you. 

He smiles joyfully, and you take a better look at him. It was true, he was handsome, and he was much closer in age to you. Though you loved Joel still, Maria kept telling you that moving on was something you had to get on. That you shouldn’t wait for Joel to ever come around. 

You thought you knew Joel well enough, and because of that you figured she was right. “Hi Miss Maria.” He flashes her a warm smile.

Maria smiles at the two of you cheekily. “Hello Emory, nice seein’ you around. Been some time.”

Emory chuckles at her callout. “I’ve been busy workin’ on some new project for the farm. Wanted to help Bee out... make it easier to care for em’.” 

You felt your face warm at his admission and you finally look at him. “I’m so sorry, I never got your name. I feel so rude.”

He shakes his head softly. “We’re all square Bee. I like helpin’ y’out.” A new song played in the small bar and he lit up. “You wanna dance Bee? Haven’t heard this song in ages.” 

Maria sends an obvious look your way and you take the hand he had out for you. His smooth southern voice reminded you of Tommy and Joel, and you wondered if he knew them too. 

He danced with you slowly, you had never danced like this with anyone before, but it felt nice. You felt wanted. “I really am sorry I never got your name before. You’ve been so helpful to me.”

“It ain’t your fault.” He reasoned as he swayed with you, his hands on your sides. “I just wanted to know everything about you.”

You giggled quietly. “Definitely not everything.”

“Everything.” He nodded. 

From then on, you saw Emory a lot more. Lily liked him enough to greet him at the door. He made stuff for you personally now. A bed frame, furniture. You two would take strolls on the horses, and it was one of your first date. 

Four months into dating Emory and you felt yourself finally beginning to maybe letting go of Joel Miller. You still loved him, but maybe you could make room in your heart for Emory. 

It was hard. There was so much about Joel you loved, and even now you couldn’t let go of it, but you tried convincing yourself he wouldn’t want you anyway. And here was this great guy who wanted you. There really was only one choice.

Yet one random day, you were feeding the pigs with Lily you hear the gate open. Emory said he would be back later today, but you smile knowing he got off early. “Welcome back.” You smile happily as you turn around.

Whatever else you had to say dies on your lips when you come face to face with Joel Miller. His hands at his sides looking as devastatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him. “Hi Bee.”

His voice is smooth as it always was. Your hands clench feeling your breathing getting faster. “Hi.” You breathe out. 

“I’m-” Joel paused holding back all the words he wants to say. “I’m so happy you’re okay.” 

Your nose scrunches at his admission. “I didn’t think that would be the case.” Joel’s words came back to you and it hurt just as bad as it did when he said them, but you weren’t going to try to make amends with Joel. “Is Ellie here?” He nods. “Where?” You ask eagerly.

“Walk with me.” He’s already turning around and you walk quickly with Lily to catch up. She walks cautiously towards Joel, and when she’s close enough he bends down to pet her. Her tail wags like crazy as she lick Joels hands. He chuckles at the furry creature, and you watch quietly. “What’s her name?”

“Lily.” 

He nods and continues to walk forward.

You see her before she sees you. She’s talking about something with Tommy. You run as fast as you can and squeeze her from behind. She’s quick to turn around and takes you in. “Bee!” She cries out squeezing you in a hug again.

“I’m so sorry baby girl. I missed you so much.” You cry into her. Finally believing that her and Joel are alive. 

“S’okay.” She blubbers out, crying with you. “I understood.”

Once you let go you wipe your tears away and look back at Joel, feeling very emotional. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

He nods. “I’m so damn grateful you made it.” He’s about to say something else before your name is called out. 

“Hey Bee, are you alright sweetheart.” Emory inspects your face as you nod.

He turns back to Joel and Ellie who has a scrunched up face. “Hey, nice to meet y’all.”

You gesture to the two of them. “That’s Joel, Tommy’s brother, and Ellie. This is Emory” 

Joel nods stiffly while Ellie waves a hand around. The two of you walk off and he takes you to the farm. “You knew them?”

You nod stiffly. “Travelled with them for a bit.” That was that. Emory left you to tend to the animals, promising to spend more time together tomorrow. 

Of course Joel couldn’t really keep away from you. Not when for the longest time he didn’t know you were alive or dead. He got in through the gate and Lily immediately greeted him, so happy to see him. “Hello sweetie.”

Her happy barks echoed throughout the place, so you went back out to see him with her. It made you feel warm, but the dread you felt from before crept back in. “Can I help you Joel?”

He slowly pushes off his knees to stand back up. “I just wanted to see you.”

“You saw me earlier.” You point out.

“Not enough.” 

The two of you remain quiet for a while, letting Lily’s soft panting and the noise from the farm linger between you.

“I’m sorry Sweet Bee.” Your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. “I didn’t mean it.” It’s been so long without any sort of apology that the emotions from the argument come back as if it was fresh. “You just... thinking about her?” Joel sighs softly trying his best to explain without falling apart from the loss. “It breaks my heart all over again- my baby girl. I’ve been so angry, at everything that took her from me.” Your eyes squeeze to prevent the tears that form from his grief to fall. You feel it, just like you did back then. “I was so angry I didn’t realize I was losin’ you in that process.”

Joel didn’t cry, he’s worked hard over the years to keep his feelings to himself. But he almost did. Watching you break down in sympathy for him, for Sarah. It tears him apart. “I’m sorry Joel. I know I’ll never really understand, but fuck if it doesn’t hurt all the same. I’m so sorry Joel.” 

Your words don’t come as shock, but it’s warm. It’s honest and your sadness for him is welcomed this time instead of pushed aside. He closes the distance between the two of you, pulling you to him. “I was so scared, Bee. Scared you were hurt and there was nothin’ I could to to help you.” You nod crying into his chest, your knuckles clenching together. “And I do love you Bee. I really do.”

His admission has you freezing in his hold, guilt creeping in for the man who has been nothing but doting on you since you got to Jackson. You pull back from him to finally look at him. “Joel I-”

“I know you’re with that kid.” Joel sighs. “But I felt like you deserved to know after I- after I lied. Quite terribly.” He leaves a small kiss on your forehead before pulling back and leaving you be.

Unfortunately, it only left you more lost than before. You closed up farm early and headed home with Lily. It was true that you still loved Joel, but you did care about Emory, and was it fair to let him go after everything he has done for you?

The next day you decided it was best to let him go, not keep lying to him when you knew it would always be Joel. When he visited you you sat him down by the stables. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about something. You play with your hands a little as your nerves kick in.

He smiles still, albeit a bit confused. “Are you alright Bee?”

Your head shakes and you finally look at him. “I really do like you Em, and I have loved spending time with you. But-” Your words get stuck, mouth open trying to form some sentence that will make it easier. “I can’t be with you anymore.”

Emory’s face now completely sullen hurts. “I guess I just don’t... understand. What happened?” He’s looking at you for answers, and you’re not sure if you should really reveal it. “I-” he breathes out. “I love you Bee.” 

You let out a small cry at his confession. “No Em, I’m definitely not worth that-”

“You are Bee, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier, but please. I just want you.”

“I can’t- I can’t love you like that Em.” You admit sheepishly. “I don’t think I can love anyone else like that.”

His face unfurls and he’s squinting at you. “Are you-” his hands move to his hips. “Are you in love with someone else.”

Your eyes close, but open again to face him. “Yes.” You breathe out. “The same person I was in love with when I got here. I don’t want to lie to you or myself anymore thinking that it’s going to change.” 

“Who?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of matters a fuckin’ lot to me, Bee.” His voice is raised and you’re on your toes. Lily starts barking up, not liking the way Emory’s voice became angry. You really needed her with you, so you’re on edge when she goes off somewhere.

Your hands go out in a way to calm him down. “I need you to step back, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, but I’m telling you I can’t be with you anymore. Please understand.”

He shakes his head. “Nah.” Emory chuckles slowly. “You mean to tell me I’ve wasted my time with you?”

You huff out in disagreement. “If that’s because I didn’t sleep with you then it’s for the better that we split.”

“Now don’t you fuckin’-” He goes to grab your arm but he hears Lily’s barks come back louder.

“You touch a hair on her head I’ll shoot you right through your goddamn skull.” Joel holds up his gun, and it’s almost comical how much it reminds you of the first time you met.

He points to Joel with the hand he raised to you. “This him?”

“Leave Emory. Now.” You say sternly.

He clicks his tongue to look back at Joel. “You know this ain’t none of your business.”

“It is my business if you lay a finger on her. Get outta here like she asked. I won’t ask again.” 

Emory relents finally and leaves you with Joel and Lily. You stoop down to pet Lily, silently thanking her for getting Joel for you. “Thank you, Joel.”

“I’m sorry about it.” He says.

You shrug. “He’s just angry I didn’t sleep with him.” Joel’s head whips his head around to you and you laugh. “What? I’m selective.”

He brushes it off stepping closer to you and Lily allows it. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “It- It was always going to be you Joel.” His expression doesn’t change by much, but you can tell he’s really listening by the way his breathing picks up. “So if you want me, well, I’m here.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to drop the gun and take you in his arms kissing your breath away. Your hands instinctively go to his hair pulling at it as he holds you tighter, pressing into you as much as he could. 

He pulls back, resting his forehead to yours, his hands in your hair now and yours moved to his shoulders. “Well thank you Miller.”

Joel laughs into you. “I love you Bee.”

Thank you guys for reading!

See you next time! <3

[gay-jewish-bucky]

Steve Roger's childhood best friend in the comics, Arnie Roth was taken and heavily incorporated into MCU Bucky, forming the entire basis of his character and his relationship with Steve.

Unfortunately, the very important context of his identity as gay and Jewish, which deeply impact the parts of his story that the MCU took, have been intentionally left out. Without him being gay and Jewish in canon, those vital parts of his story lose the intention and depth behind them being included by his creator, J.M. DeMatteis, making his character one dimensional.

A great way to counteract the erasure the MCU is engaging in is to include his Jewish identity and his gay identity in your interpretation of MCU Bucky, along with taking the time to learn about Arnie Roth as his own character and the important historic moment he was introduced in.

[fairylandblog]

Types of Fairy Dust

Folklore, fantasy, and fairy tales have long used fairy dust to symbolize magic, transformation, and awe. Generally, stories depict fairy dust as a shimmering, ethereal material that grants wishes or allows flight, yet each story varies in its properties and applications. Each sort of fairy dust has its own abilities and properties, reflecting the many roles fairies and their magic play in human imagination. Flight-related fairy dust is famous. Fairy dust is a shimmering powder that lets characters fly in J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan. Golden, bright fairy dust requires belief and a joyful thought to activate. It symbolizes fairy magic's whimsical freedom and capacity to transcend physical constraints. The dust's association with happiness and belief shows that magic is physical, emotional, and spiritual.

Other fairy dust heals and protects. Fairies are sometimes kind and utilize their abilities to help people. People believe that their silvery or light blue dust has healing properties. This may heal wounds, treat ailments, and fight off evil spirits. Fairies, who safeguard the environment and humanity, exhibit compassion, much like this fairy dust. The fairies protect balance and harmony with this dust, which shields them from malevolent powers. Transformative fairy dust can change looks or make ordinary objects remarkable. This dust appears in stories where fairies help humans achieve a goal or conquer a difficulty. In certain fairy tales, dust can convert a pumpkin into a chariot or a torn robe into a ball gown. These cases show multicolored or sparkling dust, signifying magic's unlimited possibilities. This transformational dust represents change and the concept that magic may unleash latent potential or produce something spectacular from the banal. Dark or cursed fairy dust represents the darker side of fairy magic in several legends and fantasy worlds. Unlike its beneficent cousins, this dust is either black, gray, or dark and menacing. It causes turmoil, misfortune, and even harm to people it affects. Trickster fairies or evil spirits sometimes utilize it to prank or avenge offended humans. This dust reminds us that not all magic is beneficial and that fairies, like people, have complex and unpredictable agendas. Dreams and creativity are associated with rare fairy dust. People claim that this delicate, sparkling dust fosters creativity, enables vivid dreams, and grants access to magical realms during sleep. Sometimes, painters, poets, and writers connect it with dream fairies or muses. This dreamy dust suggests that fairies are representations of our inner creativity and amazement, linking magic and the human mind. Fairy dust in legend and fiction reflects fairy magic's complexity. Each variety gives wings, heals wounds, inspires imagination, or warns about enchantment's sinister side. Fairy dust symbolizes magic as a force that transcends the mundane and opens up possibilities beyond the natural world. It captures wonder and reminds us that magic occurs wherever we see it—through belief, imagination, or storytelling.

[fleshybones]

classic list of Disney originals in chronological order starting in the 40s/50s ending 2023

Snow White & Little Briar Rose & The Frog Prince & Rapunzel by Brothers Grimm 

The Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi 

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Dumbo the Flying Elephant by Helen Aberson & Harold Pearl Bambi, a Life in the Woods by Felix Salten Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer 

Peter & the Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev Little Bear Bongo by Sinclair Lewis 

Jack and the Beanstalk by Benjamin Tabart Johnny Appleseed, Little Toot by Hardie Gramatky Trees by Joyce Kilmer & Pecos Bill 

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving 

Cinderella & Sleeping Beauty by Charles Perrault 

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll 

Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie Joe Grant’s Pet English Springer Spaniel Lady, Happy Dan, The Cynical Dog, Lady & the Tramp: The Story of Two Dogs by Ward Greene 

The Sleeping Beauty by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky The 101 Dalmatians by Dodie Smith 

The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White 

The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling 

The Secret Origin of the Aristocats by Tom McGowan & Tom Rowe The Legend of Robinhood **

Winnie the Pooh book series by A.A. Milne 

The Rescuers book series by Margery Sharp The Fox and the Hound by Daniel P. Mannix 

The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander 

Basil of Baker Street series by Eve Titus 

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens 

The Little Mermaid & The Steadfast Tin Soldier & The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen 

Beauty and the Beast by Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont 

Aladdin and the Magic Lamp from 1001 Nights Hamlet by William Shakespeare 

The Lives of Pocahontas and John Smith **

Notre Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo 

The Greek myth of Heracles **

Ballad of Mulan by Guo Maoqian 

Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs Noah’s Ark inter Alia Kingdom of the Sun by Roger Allers & Matthew Jacobs 

Inca mythology ** 

The Legend of Atlantis ** Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson Inuit cultures ** Sweating Bullets by Mike Gabriel  

Henny Penny ** 

A Day with Wilbur Robinson by William Joyce •

American Dog by Chris Sanders 

The Frog Princess by E.D. Baker 

Scandinavian & Sámi cultures ** 

Big Hero 6 by Man of Action 

Buddy cop films ** Polynesian cultures & Hawaiian mythof Māui** Southeast Asian cultures & mythology ** Colombian culture ** 

Saludos Amigos 

The Three Caballeros Make Mine Music Melody Time 

The Adventures of Ichabod & Mr. Toad 

The Black Cauldron 

The Great Mouse Detective 

Fantasia & Fantasia 2000 

Atlantis : The Lost Empire 

Treasure Planet 

Brother Bear 

Home on the Range Meet the Robinsons 

Bolt 

Zootopia 

Moana  

Raya and the Last Dragon  

Encanto  

Strange World Nov. 23 2022 

Wish Nov. 22, 2023

[morose-magnetrix]

Magneto #3 by J.M. DeMatteis (writer), Todd Nauck (artist), Rachelle Rosenberg (colorist), Travis Lanham (letterer)

I've super wanted to enjoy this series - but it continues to bother me ever so slightly. I adore Magneto, and my favorite period for the classic stuff is when he's Headmaster Magneto, posing as Charles' cousin. On paper, I should be thrilled with this - especially since Max is dead rn in the main continuity.

But it's just kinda... lacking, a little bit. The plot is fine - a young reckless traumatized mutant who worshipped the 60's Magneto, trying to force 80's Magneto to resume his former ways. Great, cool, love it - I even love Irae's design and I don't mind the mildly contrived origin. The art is great too overall, very expressive, and the coloring really emphasizes the emotional mood of the scenes.

I just don't buy the "Magneto was pretending to be evil in the 60's stories." I really don't. I don't think that it was a performance. The logic of it being a performance, designed to make the X-Men more effective... it just doesn't really hold up to me? It reminds me of the fake cover for X-Factor in their first run, that they were mutant hunters by day, and one of Louise Simonson's main points when she took over the series was how fucked up that was. X-Factor ended up just bringing on even MORE anti-mutant hate. So then to me, it seems like Magneto "pretending" to be a mustache twirling villainous mutant who steals nukes and claims he's going to wipe out the human race would only make things worse. Not better. He's giving the humans "reasons" to hate/hunt other mutants.

The real issue I think comes down to the fact that it's really hard to square Magneto's 60's characterization with what comes later, when Claremont establishes a backstory + motivations. It's part of why Grant Morrison has Magneto become a horrifying fascist in their run, as they never bought in to Claremont's Magneto, instead viewing him still as the evil nut from the 60's. I'm honestly not sure it's even possible to really make the character progression from the 60's to 80's make sense, but I think my bigger point here probably is I'm not sure there's even value in trying.

Tons of Silver Age characters didn't really have their personalities, their backstories, motivations, etc etc worked out. The X-Men as a concept didn't even really work until Giant Sized anyways. Jean Grey, for instance, was just the girl - she didn't really get much of a role beyond that! I think it's okay for things to be a little disjointed/disconnected, because we know what we have now (at least RE Magneto's characterization) works. I don't think we need to come up with excuses / explanations for why he behaved the way he did in the 60's. I think you can have him grapple with his past as a villain, without trying to explain it all away.

And like, if you are tackling the 60's stuff, isn't it more interesting if he really did believe all those things - if it wasn't an act? If he was pretending, then he's significantly less complicated as a character. Let him atone for the things he did! Let him have a dark and problematic past!