#ok I say unfortunate but that was peak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonkhrnyjail · 2 months ago

Text

desert eagle

pairing: young joel miller x f!plus-size!reader (age unspecified, no specific physical descriptions other than plus-size and able-bodied) summary: joel gets reluctantly dragged to the strip club after a long day of work. god knows he wasn't expecting to meet someone like you... rating: explicit 18+ mdni word count: 8.8k (sorry) tags: thigh riding, oral sex, so much oral sex, ass play, 69, reader is a stripper, joel is down horrendous, JOEL MILLER LOVES BIG GIRLS, gentleman!joel, until he's not, sub!joel if you squint, joel and reader are both aggressively texan, i'm midwestern so i do not take responsibility for inaccuracies i did my best a/n: soooo this is based off of the beyoncé song desert eagle, the first time i heard it i immediately thought of this idea and i couldn't get it out of my head and i was having literal sex dreams about it so i decided to write it. this is my first time writing joel too so i'm scared :P anyways i love writing about confident beautiful fat women but i think anyone can enjoy this fic so yeahhh anyways you should listen to the beyoncé song and then read the fic or vice versa ok love you bye

Joel didn’t want to go to the strip club.

In fact, Joel wants nothing more than to be alone tonight, and yet he finds himself uncomfortably perched on the edge of a half-crescent booth, dragged along by Tommy and some of the idiot twenty-somethings he’d met on their most recent project.

“Loosen up, old man!” one of the cocky landscapers barked at him when he tried to decline. “A pretty pair a’ tits in your face’ll turn that frown right upside down!”

He almost did say no, almost played the foolproof dad card; unfortunately for him, Sarah had already planned to stay at her best friend’s house the next few nights, taking advantage of the last week of winter break. But he saw the premature wince forming in Tommy’s eye, waiting for the inevitable sting of Joel ruining his chances at making some semi-decent friends in this town—friends that wouldn’t land him behind bars on the weekend, anyways. So Joel surrendered with a begrudging grunt, under the terms that he could stop by home to shower and change clothes. Miraculously, he convinced the other guys to do the same.

Inside, violet and teal spotlights cast a thick fog across the large stage. It illuminates the performers whilst somehow clouding them too, their bodies winding and whirling in a periwinkle haze. Joel’s skin feels humid and suffocated beneath the clinging fabric of his flannel shirt; the glass of Jack Daniels he’d spent the last ten minutes nursing only abets the formation of dew trickling down his neck and spine. The only thing keeping him cool is the wet curls he slicked back sitting at the base of his skull, providing a momentary chill with any slight breeze. He feels claustrophobic, displaced; like his presence was altogether a clumsy wedge into somewhere he didn’t quite belong.

Nothing another glass of whiskey couldn’t fix.

Joel excuses himself from the group without much notice. The boys are hovering over a meaty stack of ones, attempting to divvy up the bills in even increments without having to count them out individually. He strides across the room with a languid ease, scanning the room and the scattered clusters of men, appeasing his unconscious instinct to confirm safety wherever he is—and to keep tabs on the people he should keep Tommy away from. He stops short for a moment, palming his pocket to confirm his wallet and keys haven’t left his side.

“Pardon me, honey.”

A soft, seductive drawl takes him by surprise as a hand on his lower back guides him inches to the left. It takes a moment for his vision to focus, the crisp snap of his neck to follow the voice leaving a slight dizziness in its recoil, the trailing scent of cinnamon and honey wafting beneath his nose.

When he finally sees you, actually sees you, Joel finds himself powerless to avert his gaze. Your body is awash with exquisite peaks and valleys, velvet curves clad only by precarious strings and swatches of fabric covering mere inches of glistening skin. The clack of your heels leaves him hypnotized as you leave him in your wake. His jaw slackens and his lungs become paralyzed as he witnesses the way your body moves like water with every step; like the current that flows across the edges of your figure, rippling as you step onto the stage and coil yourself around the silver pole.

Good god.

The bones in Joel’s knees suddenly turn gelatinous, a huff of air escaping his mouth as he stumbles backward into the bar, bracing himself with flat palms against the polished marble. He steadies himself, blinking out the sting beneath his lids, trying to moisten the dryness in his eyes—a consequence of his bulging stare.

A soft giggle lilts from behind him, piercing through his trance and hammering his conscience back into the earth. Joel turns to the source to find the bartender, shaking her head with laughter as she drags the rim of a glass through a bowl of salt.

“Don’t worry, ain’t the first time I’ve seen a man nearly lose his footin’ around Paloma,” she jeers, a smirk threatening the corners of her mouth. “She’s really somethin’, that girl.”

Joel nods, clears his throat, and swallows the saliva that pools at the back of his tongue. Somethin’ was an understatement, an insult to the ethereal vision twirling before him. The fog and dusky lighting prevents him from capturing a defined image of your face, only catching glimpses of soft cheeks and plush lips as you spin and float with ease, but he’s certain you’re breathtaking.

“You want another Jack?” the bartender offers, pouring out a picture-perfect margarita, the lime hue nearly fluorescent in the lowlight.

Joel grunts in affirmation, his eyes not once straying from your direction.

“Not much of a talker, are ya?” she ribs, chuckling as she reaches for the whiskey.

“Sorry, long day,” Joel winces, suddenly painfully aware of how rude he’s been. “Is she, uh, new ‘round here?”

“Who, Paloma? Been ‘round for about… six months or so? She’s done real well for herself, honestly blew all us away with how much she was able t’make from the jump.”

He bites down on the tip of his tongue, a sharp, electrifying pain searing through his nerves. It does nothing to fracture the beguiling spell you’ve somehow cast upon him, and Joel finds himself staring again, studying your every move, knowing nothing but need.

“Do you know if she… when she’s done here? Her shift, I mean.”

The bartender laughs exuberantly, a wide smile revealing a far-too-pristine row of pearly veneers that nearly glow under the lilac beams.

“Well, I don’t think I can tell you that, sugar,” she coos, sliding Joel’s drink across the space between them. “But you can ask her yourself! I promise, she don’t bite. Sweet as honey, that one.”

Honey.

It still lingers in the air, thick and cloying in a way that grips like a hand wrapped around his throat, like a demanding croon singing over and over: Eyes on me. He can taste it too, a whisper of it stagnant on the back of his tongue, a lurking craving impatiently waiting to be satiated.

Joel thanks her in a low gravel, and strides back towards his table with newfound urgency nipping at his heels. He arrives at the booth with no reaction from the boys, the party too enveloped in counting their stack to be stirred by his presence. It’s only when Joel clears his throat, the force of it deep and thunderous, that the men take any notice.

“I’m gonna need me some of those.”

. . . . .

You didn’t expect the club to be busy tonight.

In fact, you practically relied on Wednesdays being the slowest day of the week. You often used the opportunity to practice new routines, test out new outfits, try something different with your makeup; pretty much anything you didn’t particularly prefer for a crowded audience to behold.

Tonight you find yourself testing the limits of a string-bikini-esque number, the laces doubled around your torso and triple-knotted in the hope of extra security, and the triangular fabric cutouts stuck down to the curve of your breasts with double-sided tape. You climb the pole with ease, perfectly-formed calluses on your palms and heels aiding you with improved grip.

It took just a month of pole classes for you to develop an addiction to the burn of sleek metal sliding across your skin. Something about the sting of it, alongside the quiver of your core, the aching clench of your thighs; it was a remarkable blend of pain that spilled through you like pleasure. It soon became an unholy replacement for Sunday worship—melding yourself around the pole; bathing in the sweltering beams from the spotlights; inhaling the musky scent of crumpled bills lying at your feet. It was entirely meditative, and you’d found a sort of spiritual enlightenment amongst it all.

You let your head fall back as the rod swings you around in tight circles. Normally you let your eyes close when you spin, but tonight you feel called to the fuzzy warmth that pools behind your brows when you get good and dizzy. Your surroundings bleed and curve like an Expressionist painting, and an unmoving figure lurks amongst the brush strokes, appearing and disappearing and blending until it’s a constant image: a broad, stoic, masculine body, melting into everything you can see.

The invasion peeves you. Sure, you know you should be pleased that a customer is watching, clearly interested and coming closer, but for Christ’s sake, you’ve been out for less than five minutes. At 6pm. On a Wednesday.

You carefully bring your body to a halt, slowly inching down the pole until your shoes meet the hardwood. Your vision lags far behind you, skipping like a scratched disc, and it’s enough to nearly knock you from your feet. A lightness billows through your blood and tries to whisk you away, but you sink against it, sitting on your heels and fastening your grip on the cold steel.

Lines begin to gain their sharpness again, and the figure in your peripheral starts to look less and less like a Van Gogh portrait. The man’s face is still muddled, dimly-lit and shrouded by the bill of a baseball cap. You smile at him on instinct, and you notice his chest jerk, like he was entirely unaware that he too was being observed; like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

You also can’t help but notice how broad he is, even from this distance. The plaid lines of his button-up sprawl across his chest, his arms, his waist, and though the shirt clearly isn’t skin-tight, you can tell the expanse of him fills it out with ease. With a slight tilt of your head you motion for him to come closer, and your balance finally stills enough for you to trust your feet again.

The man strides across the room with a glimmer of urgency—not fast per se, but with a spirited buoyancy hot beneath his heels. He parks himself at the table nearest to you, pulling the chair from its nestled nook under the table, and makes himself comfortable, splaying his knees and crossing his arms tightly atop his chest.

God, he’s big.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round here before,” you lilt, descending the stairs from the platform and taking a seat on the table in front of him.

One of his hands peeks from beneath the sleeve of his flannel. It looks gruff, firm, and tightly grasps a palmful of ones, and the sheer width of his fingers make the bills look like Monopoly money.

“Ain’t really been ‘round here before,” he shrugs, his voice exactly as deep as you expected, and steeped in what you immediately recognize as a born and raised Texan.

His eyes are noticeably shifty, ping-ponging between the floor, the stage, your shoes, his watch; anywhere that isn’t your gaze. The majority of his face is still shaded by his cap, and even this close his features remain more vague than you’d like them to be. You realize he must be new to this, and you’ve heard that drawl before; the drawl of a man who was raised to mind his manners.

You don’t make him ask.

“You want a dance, baby?”

You graze your fingers over his, and have to bite down on a grin when his chest hitches sharply against the row of buttons resting over his sternum.

“I… um… no, thank you sweetheart—”

“What’s your name?”

He clears his throat with a stifled, nervous cough.

“Joel,” he blurts, a sober assuredness possessing his voice. “Joel Miller.”

He finally meets your gaze, just as a whirling spotlight dances over his face. A split second of illumination reveals a whiskey-brown stare, dripping with warmth, glinting with a sedated hunger. You bite down on the flesh of your cheek and extend your hand to shake his.

“Paloma,” you croak, imitating his baritone husk, pausing to repeat his cadence. “Paloma Blue.”

A dimple appears amongst a veil of brown scruff, the faint edges of a charming smile peeking through the shadow from his hat. His shoulders remain rigid, hiked with an invisible thread tugging them toward the ceiling.

You really can’t read him.

“Can I do somethin’ for you, honey? You seem tense,” you question.

“I was… I was wonderin’ if you might be interested in lettin’ me buy you a drink. When you’re done workin’, f’course. Wouldn’t wanna get you in any kinda trouble.”

You find it impossible not to let out a chuckle. It’s not the first time you’ve sent a man into a flustered mess of shifting-eyes and stuttering words, though that would usually come after he got too bold and you needed to put him in his place. Joel Miller doesn’t look like those men; college-aged hooligans or machismo cowboys that are all bark and no bite. He doesn’t look like a man who gets nervous; yet here he is, fidgeting profusely with his watch, and you’re quite relieved he’s sitting down.

“Well, ain’t you a sweet one…” you drawl, half-teasing despite the truth to the statement. “I’m s’posed to work ‘til close tonight, but if you can convince my boss to let me leave early, I’m all yours.”

You don’t miss the swell of Joel’s pupils at your affirmation, a look of determination you had yet to witness on the man. The chances of getting out of your shift tonight are next to none, considering there’s merely three of you working the floor and a new hoard of howling youngsters just came tumbling through the entrance.

You point out your boss behind the bar and Joel follows with his gaze, nodding and starting towards her without a word.

You’re a bit shocked at his immediate action; not to mention the lack of the typical prying you’ve accepted as routine. He’s been extraordinarily polite; a man of few words but refreshingly direct despite the subtle shake in his voice, and the honesty alone makes your cheeks flush.

You’re far more used to taking control and providing entertainment for the countless men that frequent the club, always catering to their needs first and foremost, smothering them with flattery—or degradation, if you notice a well-timed “good boy” summons a bigger bill from their pockets. It’s work, but it’s undoubtedly started to bleed into your personal life. The lines between you and your Paloma persona have blurred these days, making you unsure of what you’re supposed to want and what you actually want. You find yourself lost in thought, gazing at the black and white tile as your legs swing underneath you, until the interruption of two dirty boots break your trance.

“Boss said you’re good to go. F’you still want to.”

How the hell did he manage that?

Your jaw hangs slightly in shock, racking your brain to make sense of what he may have done to convince her. You can’t help but be impressed by his vigor, by all of it, and a smile lifts your cheeks to the heavens as you recognize the feeling stirring in your tummy, a feeling that has laid dormant for far too long. You want him.

“I’ll go get my stuff, just hang tight.”

. . . . .

Joel stands by the exit of the club, waiting for you to grab your things. He hadn’t thought a damn thing through before he asked you out, and his voice of reason was nowhere to be found when he forked over 200 bucks to the club owner to get you out of working for the rest of the night. Any semblance of forethought vanished when he saw you, all sashayed hips and strut and so undeniably, deliciously Texan. And your face—oh—once he saw that sweet face of yours… he didn’t stand a fucking chance.

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know where exactly he should take you to get a drink. Should he have asked you to dinner instead? The last thing he wants is you to think is that he’s trying to buy you for the night, or that anything is required of you just because he got you out of work. He just wants to know you, be near you, bask in your presence. He wants to treat you like a gentleman, like he was raised to, because he’s damn sure the kind of men who wind up at that club don’t give a damn about chivalry.

You emerge from the narrow hallway leading towards the exit, clad in gray sweatpants and a flowy white tee that somehow still clings to the most feminine parts of your figure. You shoot him a beaming smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you haul a small duffel bag over your shoulder.

“You’re not takin’ me anywhere too fancy I hope,” you snicker.

Joel offers one hand to hold your bag and swings the door ajar with the other, holding it for you as you pass through. The trail of your perfume—that soft, sugary scent—leaves his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tightens his grip on the doorframe.

“You need somethin’ to eat? We could get some supper,” he suggests, offering his arm to you.

“Yeah, actually, I usually wait ‘til after my shift, considerin’ work ain’t too far off from a non-stop Tilt-A-Whirl ride. Y’get used to it after a while, but—”

“Better safe than sorry, I bet.”

You look up at him and nod with a half-grin, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

With just a single look, Joel’s stomach flutters and dick twitches at the sight of you. The glow of your face beneath the warmth of the streetlight; your soft features and the intensity of your persistent gaze is beyond mesmerizing. You’re pretty, the epitome of it, all batting lashes and pillowy lips; the very definition of divine feminine. You’re the spitting image of the hazy being that appears behind his eyelids when he touches himself and lets his mind wander; the body he craves to wake up tangled with every morning.

He follows you to the passenger’s side of the car and opens the door for you without a thought, leaning in to his tendencies and muscle memory. You hum a sweet thank you as he extends his arm to help you into his elevated truck, but you barely need the support, your strong legs lifting you into the height of the car with ease.

As Joel turns the key in the ignition, the scream of the roaring engine sends a full body cringe snaking down his spine.

“Sorry, uh, she’s a lil’ noisy,” he winces with an apologetic brow. “She’s fine, runs great, just—”

“A bit of a talker?” you blurt.

He smiles diffidently and nods. You’re better with words than he is, and he finds himself thankful for that—lord knows he needs all the help he can get in your presence.

Joel flicks on the radio, an old Willie Nelson tune lilting from the rear speakers. You let out a hearty grunt of approval.

“Haven’t heard this one in forever,” you slurred. “Practically grew up on this music. ‘M sure you did too, I can hear it in that drawl f’yours.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches his arm around your seat, crooking his head back as he shifts the truck into reverse.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not bad! Just strong. Just how I like it, really,” you admit, pulling your lip between your teeth, doe-eyed and eager as you catch his gaze.

God, he’s absolutely fucked.

He dials up the volume as he clears his throat and starts down the jagged road. You relax into your seat, curling one of your feet up to tuck beneath your thigh as you hum along to the radio.

He knows exactly where to take you.

. . . . .

A twenty minute car ride with Joel revealed that he wanted to know as much as he could about you. He asked question after question, about your life, your hobbies, your family, and not one thing about your job, which was honestly quite refreshing. Not that you had any shame about your occupation, but most men were more fascinated about what it was like to be Paloma, and most importantly what it could mean for them at the end of the evening. Not Joel, though. It seemed as though he was almost afraid to breach the subject; out of politeness or avoidance, you weren’t sure. You crossed your fingers that it was the former.

You arrive at a little shack of a restaurant, some sort of fusion between a diner and a sports bar. It looks as though it should be empty, the exterior of it run down in a way that makes it appear frozen in time, but it isn’t. Clusters of customers sit in long-stretched booths that fill the width of the windows and the entrance is shrouded with people; some smoking, some chatting, and some seemingly waiting to get in. You scan the crowd and find that everyone visible to you appears quite innately blue collar, down to the sea of Levi’s Jeans and scuffed up boots, extra-illuminated by the cheap plastic solar lights haphazardly stuck into narrow beds of mulch.

Joel hops down from the truck before you can even say a word, and with a quick shuffle he’s arrived at the passenger door. You have to laugh at the absurdity of it, how it seems he has—cover to cover— studied a textbook of how to be a perfect gentleman. Alongside the frequency of nerves you can sense radiating from beneath his skin, you know you need to get a drink in him.

He offers his arm as you hop down onto the pavement and swiftly rests his palm on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd of patrons with ease. A cheap, crackling doorbell sound chimes as you pass through the doorway. The hostess offers a wide and toothy smile, hollering to announce Joel's arrival, by name, towards the kitchen. She appears surprised but delighted to see him, making a point to let him know how much she has missed him with a cringeworthy attempt at a bit too much physical contact. She asks about a Sarah, and your stomach tightens with concern—you hope to god she's anything but a wife. He requests a booth, a cozy, curved table in the shaded, sheltered corner of the restaurant, and the staff oblige him immediately, one waitress clearing the tabletop of dishes and the other wiping the surface down in one clean swipe.

“Hope this is ok,” Joel says. “You’re definitely not the only one wearing sweatpants in here, if it makes you feel at ease.”

“It’s good, seems perfect,” you slip the innermost part of your bottom beneath your teeth and let your eyes do the smiling. “They sure are treatin’ you like royalty in here.”

Joel seems to relax a bit, his spine softening into the back of the cushion and legs splaying wide. He isn’t looking at you as you observe him; his eyes dart around and he musters a casual wave to anyone visibly moved by his presence. The constant, worried scrunch of his brow smooths out for a moment, just as the beams of passing headlights rake over his features, and you finally realize:

He’s fucking gorgeous.

You could see him before, sure, but you didn’t actually see him, not with the lingering luminescence of the warm white that shines through the outspread window behind you. He was steeped in shadow, but now he’s colored in, every detail and curvature entirely yours to behold.

The bend of his nose draws your attention first, strong and angular, demanding your eyes pay it mind. Your gaze follows a natural map, a sporadic trail of sun spots that dance across his cheek, conspicuous evidence of long days working outside in the relentless Austin heat. A few silver hairs are sprinkled amongst his umber scruff; a well-kempt beard and mustache sits just above the soft curve of his lips, flushed with ruddy hue.

He’s gorgeous, plain and simple.

The waitress brings Joel a whiskey before even saying hello. Joel asks what you would like, calls you sweetheart in a low, thick growl. You order a vodka cran and try to ignore the hostess currently staring a hole into the side of your head.

“You gonna tell me why they treat you like royalty ‘round here?” you tease.

“Not royalty—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “They just ain’t seen me in a while. Used to bring my little girl here for breakfast every Sunday.”

“Ah,” you release with a sigh, the ball of tension sitting in your chest following behind. “Sarah?”

“Mhm,” he hums.

“Was worried she might be a wife for a second there.”

“Oh, no, I- I’m not… I wouldn’t…”

“S’alright. I’ll admit though, I’m real glad she ain’t.”

Joel’s face turns a soft shade of pink and a whisper of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicker, lingering on your lips, a flame dancing behind his pupils, before meeting your gaze again. You can’t control the smile that possesses your face, nor the simmering heat that blankets your chest, and you can’t recall that last time a man made you feel like this.

Every facet of Joel’s appearance exudes an air of dominance. He dresses much like the hordes of men who approach you with their usual excessive bravado and unwarranted sense of ownership over your body, but he seems to act entirely the opposite. He seems apprehensive, wary, like he’s trying desperately to be the right kind of man around you, to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

You decide to try what Joel orders, some sort of off-menu special order the waitress jokingly calls “The Miller Deluxe”. It isn’t long before you finish your drink, and another appears before you can even ask. You inquire more about Joel’s daughter, his life, his work; returning the line of questioning he surveyed you with in the passenger’s seat of the truck, and you find yourself mirroring his smile as he tells you all about Sarah. He rambles off a brief explanation of his business and Tommy; you immediately know who he is, a somewhat troublesome regular visitor at the club. Joel apologizes for Tommy before you even say a word about him, and your food arrives at the table before you can explain that he’s more of an occasional nuisance than anything else.

The whiskey seems to unwind the tension in Joel’s stature, and words begin to flow with much more ease than they did before you arrived. A natural, charismatic charm seeps through, sticky sweet, until it’s all but enveloped his demeanor, blanketing his palpable apprehension with an earnest geniality that radiates warmth like a fireplace. It washes over you, clinging to every inch of your skin, seeping through to your veins and igniting a flame low in your belly, a flickering heat that demands to be noticed.

You’re fairly certain he won’t be the one to cut through the guarded distance between you. Despite the unmistakable hunger in his eyes, he remains heedful, taking extra care to keep his hand from grazing yours as he reaches for the chip basket and keeping his body at least a foot away from yours. You want—desperately want—to shatter the glass partition he seems to have placed between you, to destroy the self-imposed barrier keeping his temptation at bay.

You start by sliding closer, closing the gap between your knees until they touch. That gets his attention, but he doesn’t retreat, he only meets your eyes with a look of inquiry, curiosity, and a hint of apprehension. You flash him your most doe-eyed, encouraging smile, sanctioning the proximity of your bodies, silently divulging that you want this, that you like him, that he can finally release the imprisoned breath he’s been holding beneath his sternum since he uttered his very first words to you.

Joel swings an arm around your shoulder, resting against the wooden panel atop the booth seat, leaving a few inches between your skin and the sleeve of his flannel. He doesn’t have to tell you a thing; you oblige him immediately, leaning your shoulders back and relaxing into his forearm. You fit seamlessly into the crook of his elbow, and the warmth emanating from his body makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention.

The second vodka cran—the one that you nearly shotgunned—possesses your will for a split-second and you find yourself reaching for his face, whisping the pad of your thumb across his wiry scruff. Despite the rough tickle it leaves behind, you immediately crave the sensation elsewhere, certain that the drag of it across a more delicate area might just feel like heaven.

“Can I be honest?” you whisper in a low lilt, tracing the brim of his cap with lazy fingers.

Joel nods with a thick swallow, his Adam's apple jumping almost comically in his throat.

“Yeah, f’course,” he responds with a strained attempt at nonchalance.

“I don’t like this hat.”

You grip the bill of the hat, wiggling it back and forth playfully. Your actions are outrunning your thoughts by a mile now, and you’re unable to keep your hands from wandering towards Joel’s magnetism. His face transforms into a bewildered, amused grin, one brow furrowed and the other cocked toward the ceiling.

“Mm,” he hums, a low, resonant sonance from the pit of his chest. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t see you,” you whine. “Can’t see that pretty face of yours, s’all hidden by a shadow.”

“I, um—” he whisks the hat off, running his fingers through a slicked mountain of curls. “My hair’s still wet.”

Christ. The light bathes his face, every detail revealing itself to you in absolute glory. He’s fucking beautiful, his features demanding of your undivided attention, an impossible balance between striking and soft. The flicker of need at the base of your core spreads at the speed of a wildfire, setting you ablaze with a hunger you can no longer ignore.

“Joel?”

His name spills from your throat, sliding off your tongue like a siren’s nectar. Your fingers find their way to his mane, weaving through the strands with a gentle tug. His inhale catches in his lungs, the air held prisoner as your nails trace along his temple and jaw. His eyes finally meet yours as the pad of your thumb drags across his lower lip, and it’s only then that you will his breath to freedom, a stuttering exhale pulsing with anticipation.

“I think we should get the check.”

A momentary shock quickly turns to realization, and with widened eyes and a stifled smirk he nods, wasting no time to flag down the waiter and ask for the bill. Neither of you speak; you find it almost impossible to do so, your gaze spellbound to the curve of muscle and veins that lay beneath his collar, and you swear you can see his pulse jumping beneath his skin.

You want nothing more than to feel the rush of it beneath your tongue.

Joel offers his arm to help you out of the booth, his flannel rolled to his elbows, exposing his thick and freckled forearms and a modest watch strapped to his wrist. He wastes no time whisking you towards the door, his palm flat against your lower back, waving a few rushed goodbyes to the folks he chatted with on the way in. You can feel his heat, his fervor, singeing your skin through your shirt, his fingers curled into the soft skin just above your ass. He holds the door for you as you lock eyes; you’re met with primitive opacity in his gaze, the desperation of it surging straight to your cunt.

You grasp his hand, and book it towards his truck, counting down the seconds before you lose control.

. . . . .

Joel hums with surprise as you twist the neck of his flannel into your fist, tugging him into you and colliding your lips savagely with his.

Fuck, you taste better than he could’ve possibly imagined.

He didn’t intend for the evening to end like this. In fact, he almost wanted to avoid it, wanted to take you out with the crystal-clear message of no expectation whatsoever. But he’s just a man after all, and the second your eyes started talking and hands started wandering, he knew there was no way he could resist giving you what you wanted.

His hands find their way to your hips with magnetic force, slipping under the hem of your shirt with ease and grasping at the softness that lies beneath the fabric. The strength of his hands is enough to push you flat against the passenger door as he tilts your pelvis towards him, easing your knees apart with an effortless nudge of his leg.

You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you onto his thigh, grinding you into the thick denim. The sound of you, breathless and needy, stirs a ravenousness in his chest that Joel had thought was long laid to rest, an avidity that only you have managed to awaken. You, in all your glory, drenched in honey and cream, calling out to him to come and taste.

As he bucks your hips a second time, you whine, your hands shooting up and tangling in his hair. You tug his head back, distancing his lips from yours, and he can’t help but groan at the loss of contact. Your gaze bears into his eyes with a newfound ferocity, a determination that leaves him straining against the confines of his jeans.

“You gonna give me what I need, Joel Miller?” you speak against his mouth in a hush.

Goosebumps litter the better part of his neck and chest as his eyes struggle to keep you in focus. The sting of pain at the back of his scalp only swells his desire, a sensation so staggering that he finds his breath caught, full and tight in his lungs, escaping only through labored, silent sighs.

“M’gonna give you whatever you need baby, whatever you want,” Joel pants, slurring his words against your gluttonous smirk.

Suddenly you’re diving beneath his jaw, dragging the heat of your mouth across the pattern he knows follows a prominent vein in his neck. Fuck, it feels euphoric, his pulse jumping against your tongue, every rush of blood to and fro delivering another wave of want straight to his cock. He gives in, letting his eyes roll back into his skull, no longer able to maintain any semblance of insouciance as he’s damn near collapsing under your spell. He can’t recall the last time he’d been touched like this. On the rare occasion he’d bring a woman home he found himself falling into routine, taking control because that’s what he sensed she would expect, fulfilling some sense of duty as a man that he never quite understood. He’d always felt a sort of magnetism toward assured women, but somehow they were never the ones who ended up in his bed, only wavering ladies who looked to him wide-eyed, waiting for instruction.

He’s quite sure he’ll never go back.

Joel drags your hips against him once again, this time increasing the friction, bearing you down on his thigh enough to feel the damp spot that’s pooled between your legs. You yelp, biting into his neck, the sting of your canines against his skin bordering on vampiric. Joel hisses, the pain once again blossoming into some sort of pleasure, twitching and crying from the head of him.

“Babydoll—shit—” he curses, stunned as you drag your lower teeth towards his ear, undoubtedly leaving behind a sketch of crimson. “You wanna get in the truck baby? Plenty’a room in the backseat.”

You hum in agreement, your lips wrapping around his earlobe, flicking it against your tongue before giving it a feeble nip. Joel fumbles in his pocket until he manages to unlock the door with his key, wasting no time as he pulls you tight to his chest, swinging the door ajar before offering a hand to help you inside. Despite his lust-stricken haze, his gentlemanly charm seems to be beaten into the very fiber of his being. You step into the car, gracing him with a personal view of the perfect splay of your hips and ass, only revving his hunger as he follows suit.

. . . . .

You don’t allow Joel but a second before you’re caging him in between your legs, straddling his thighs against the backseat of his truck. The rough grip of his hands on your hips, grinding you down on his knee, kneading into your curves; it was enough to set you entirely ablaze. No more matchstick flickering at the pit of your stomach, every cell in your body is pulsing with need, pleading for release by the hands of Joel Miller.

You can’t help but glide with a sharp rock of your hips across his lap, desperate to return some friction to the pounding ache within your walls. Your eyes lock with his as your clothed cunt skims the sizable tent of his jeans, observing him feverishly as he groans at the sensation.

“Fuck—” he grunts, his chest heaving as you slowly drag away again. “Easy, easy baby…”

His hands find the valley of your waist with ease, slowing your pace to an achingly languid speed. With each brush of your throbbing clit against the seam of your panties, another gush of slick floods from your core. It’s filthy, obscene, soaking all the way through the thick material of your sweatpants and onto Joel’s denim. You can’t even remember the last time you were this wet. It makes you burn that much more, the way his mere presence alone was enough to turn you into a sopping mess.

“Joel—” your palms cradle the curve of his jaw, holding him still to allow you to study him in the lowlight.

He’s so fucking beautiful, positively mesmerizing, his pupils blown wide with a raptured stare, the sharp curve of his nose like something carved from ancient marble. The pad of your thumb snakes across the pout of his lower lip, pressing down until his jaw goes slack, parting his mouth with an exhale.

Joel seems to lose himself in your gaze, his eyes not once leaving yours as you slip your thumb between his teeth and force him even wider, applying pressure to the tip of his tongue and feeling the muscle flex against your fingertips. You need his mouth, need it anywhere and everywhere and right fucking there, you need him to clean up this mess he’s made of you.

“You know how gorgeous you are, sugar?” you hum, spreading the slick from his tongue across his lower lip and down his chin. “You know I don’t do this for just anybody, right?”

“You’re the gorgeous one, baby, so goddamn gorgeous,” Joel pants, snaking his hands higher, up the bend of your waist until his palms reach the yielding skin that cloaks your ribcage. His thumbs trace the band of your bra; smooth, fluid motions that send chills crawling up your spine. “So beautiful I reckon’ it might jus’ kill me.”

You can’t help but smile at his sweetness, his accent reduced to a slurry of words, appearing to be drunk on your aura. It seems you’ve managed to reduce him down to his very core, the heat from your body melting through the hardened layers of gruff masculinity to reveal an almost desperate eagerness to please, a yearning to relinquish control.

“I can’t have you dyin’ on me, honeypie,” you allow your hands to wander, your fingertips finding their way to the uppermost button of his shirt. “I got far too many plans for that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You lean down to kiss him once again, your thumbs making quick work of the trail of remaining buttons. Your lips move sloppily against each other, the both of you unable to stifle your muffled moans, swallowing each other’s pleasure as your tongues waltz in the in-between.

“Tell me what to do, baby,” Joel croons against your cheek. “Fuck, want you s’bad, jus’ wanna make you feel good.”

Your fingers nestle into the damp mess of curls at the back of his skull. With an innocuous little tug, you guide his lips to the expanse of bare skin on your chest, his mouth settling at the heart of your sternum. You don’t even have to ask, his tongue darting past his lips, savoring the taste of you with a deliberate torpor. The graze of his scruff against your thumping heart feels better than you could have possibly imagined, sharp yet soft, ticklish enough to make your breath catch in your throat. You blanket the backs of his hands, your fingers settling in the spaces between his, maneuvering the wide expanse of his palms to splay across your breasts. You can’t believe the sheer size of his hands, enveloping your tits entirely, calluses harsh against the sensitive peaks veiled beneath the mesh of your bra.

“Touch me here,” you sigh, unable to keep yourself rocking slowly against his thigh. “Taste me. Show me how bad you want me, pretty boy.”

Something akin to a growl claws from his throat, and you gasp as his nails hook around the seam of your bra, exposing the peaks of your breasts with a relentless tug. He wastes no time, pulling your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud mercilessly.

“Fuck, oh fuck, that’s good baby,” you bear down into his thigh as his thumb finds your other nipple, rolling it between his forefinger. Your core surges with another wave of need, crying for attention, spilling her tears from your center and dampening the denim-clad thigh beneath her. “I need— shit— I need you lower, Joel.”

In your hungered haze, you push Joel flat against the seat of the truck, his eyes wide and wild as you climb atop him, his chest hiking and falling against your bare tits. He looks downright enraptured, licking his lips like a kid in a goddamn candy shop, fiending for a sugar high.

“You wanna taste me, sugar plum? You gon’ let me feed you?”

“Christ—” Joel curses, his hands wandering along your torso, lifting your shirt above your head and flinging it across the dash. He unclasps your bra with his free hand, sending it flying the opposite direction. “Please darlin’, need’ta taste you.”

You manage to kick off your sweats while Joel holds you steady by the hips, his eager words somehow igniting even more fervor in your movements. His thumbs knead into the give of your lower tummy, meandering beneath the waistband of your panties and twisting the elastic around his knuckles, slack-jawed and nearly possessed by the sight of your bare curves alone.

Joel gives you a nod, cupping your ass to ease you forward as your knees find a home adjacent to his ears. He pets along the length of your thighs, damn near drooling at the sight between them.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” Joel slips a finger beneath the seam of black lace, teasing against the soft damp skin closest to where you need him the most. “M’a big boy, can handle myself.”

You gasp as he shoves the soaked cloth covering your cunt to the side, brushing your desperate clit with his knuckle as he does so. You’re bare to him now, surely glistening and ripe and ready to be devoured.

“Don’t doubt it, cowboy,” you croon, raking a hand through his curls before lowering yourself onto his eager mouth.

A rocket of white-hot pleasure shoots straight through you as Joel latches on to your clit, nestling the bud between his lips. The searing sensation is enough to make your hips twitch forward, sending your hands to scramble for purchase to keep you upright. You can’t even make a sound; the release of euphoria coursing through you stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you to choke on empty inhales until Joel finally gives your bud a moment of reprieve.

His tongue dips into the pool of your center, sending another swell of nectar from your core, coating his scruff in sweet slick. You hear him groan, muffled between your thighs, as his arms lock around your hips and push you down even further.

“Fuck, Joel—” you hiss, trying to keep yourself from grinding against the sharp curve of his nose, pulling yourself away slightly.

You swear you hear a hum of disapproval from between your legs as Joel chases you with his mouth, his grip tightening and his fingers digging mercilessly into the give of your thighs. His tongue is deep, drinking straight from the source of your arousal as his arms begin to rock you against his face, his nose grazing against your clit with an impossible precision; sending wave after wave of pleasure coiling up your spine. It seems dangerous, the way he’s devouring you without a single breath, but he holds you steady, bearing the weight of you onto his mouth with no hesitation.

“Baby, shit sweetheart— you gotta breathe,” you manage a fistful of his hair, pulling him off you with considerable force.

He looks thoroughly dazed; glassy irises and pink parted lips glistening with your dew, like a man who’s been given a taste but is nowhere near satiated. His chest swells and shallows rapidly beneath your ass, each breath bringing more color to his cheeks and a myriad of pearls forming across his hairline.

“Need more,” Joel pants, his fingers weaving around the lace stretched across your hips. “Need these gone, angel.”

You oblige him with a swiftness, pulling the garment to your knees, dismounting him to allow you to slip it past your ankles. His palms cup your ass and squeeze, his thumbs spreading you open to reveal even more of yourself to him. The stretch feels good, the sensitive muscles fluttering with the shock of the exposure, sticky and soaked from the steady drip seeping from your sex.

“So pretty…” he kneads into your pliable cheeks. “Can I taste it? Please sugar, need’ta taste all of you.”

God, his desperation is like a siren song, your desire burning hot and full in your throat. You hum with approval, mounting him once more but reverse this time, a wave of goosebumps skittering across your skin in anticipation.

He starts gentler this time, licking a languid stripe from your taint to your tailbone. His tongue splays across your skin, wide and flat, making sure not to miss a single inch. A guttural moan escapes your lungs; an uninhibited response to the forgotten feeling of heat in that region, an entirely distinctive kind of pleasure that sends your eyes spinning to the back of your skull. Your nails dig crescents into the cushions your hands are so violently clinging to, your back arching, matching in a manner to match the little moons left behind by your fingers.

Joel groans in response to your noises, biting at the supple flesh gathered in his hands, his hunger surely spurred by the sweet sounds of your euphoria. Like a switch, his mouth turns greedy again, lapping against your puckered skin with a ferocity that makes you cry out his name. He gives you no moment of respite, jerking your hips toward him and seizing your clit with his curved tongue and pulling you into him, his nose practically fucking your cunt.

“Ohhh, that’s…” you trail off, your eyes beginning to water from the sheer intensity of it. “Christ, you’re heaven.”

At that, Joel seems to lose control, seemingly possessed by a determination to make you meet God. His palms jerk your hips back and forth, your clit never once escaping the grasp of his lips, his nose delving into your pussy with reckless abandon. Pleasure ravages the whole of you in a frenzy, wave after wave surging in your belly until you’re all but crying, quivering as you white-knuckle the headrest holding you steady. Your orgasm topples through you, your vision blasting with light as your walls clamp again and again, squeezing the length of Joel’s nose buried in your cunt.

Joel doesn’t release your clit from his mouth until you’re yelping, twitching and gasping from overstimulation. His grip softens as you fly forward to your hands and knees, your chest heaving with exhaustion, your muscles bearing through the aftershocks of your release. His lips find the backs of your thighs, trailing sweet, slow kisses across the expanse of skin. They feel like praise, almost like he’s thanking you without words; a mellifluous tempo of graciousness that you had yet to experience from him.

Part of you wants to linger in the divinity of this moment, but from your position you find yourself face to face with the bulging mass beneath his jeans. It looks painful, the outline of his shaft straining against thick denim and a sturdy zipper. You manage to unbutton the pants with your one free hand, slipping your palm beneath the waistband effortlessly.

“Jesus, Joel,” you chuckle, astonished by the way his cock fills your palm, heavy and thicker than you would have ever anticipated. You begin to stroke him above his boxers, softly and slowly, swirling your fingertips across the head of him as you feel him groan beneath you, dampening your fingers with his weeping tip. “Lemme help you, sugar.”

Joel grunts out his approval, his palm splayed across your ass, seemingly as a means to ground himself to this mortal plane. The callused pads on his fingertips clutch you relentlessly as you free his dick from the confines of his clothes, holding the base of him steady as you glide the tip of your tongue across his glistening slit.

His hips jerk forward at the sudden contact, sending the length of him thrusting into your open mouth. You welcome him wholly, savoring the salty musk that coats your cheeks and the sting in your jaw as you stretch to accommodate him.

“Fucking—shit—” he growls, his breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. “C’mere, god damn—”

He tugs you back onto his open mouth, burying himself into you once more with a reignited ferocity, drinking the remnants of your orgasm. You yelp, your throat flexing around his tip as he flicks your overstimulated clit, the blend of pleasure and torment accosting your nervous system.

It’s downright mean, the mercilessness of his tongue sending you straight into overdrive. Two can play at that game.

You take him as deep as you can manage, hollowing your cheeks as you swirl your tongue around his girth. He groans into your pussy, licking you faster, pulling your lips apart with his tongue and spreading them like angel wings. You can’t help but grin, the unspoken competition between you revving with intensity with each passing second, sending the both of you toppeling into bliss, warmth spilling down your throat as you cry out against his cock. Your thighs begin to shake as you reach your peak, tears beading in your eyes as you grasp tightly onto the flexing muscles in Joel’s legs. You choke on his name as his dick falls from your lips, bearing through surge after surge of euphoria. The pleasure is so consuming that it coils itself around your windpipe and renders you mute, holding you hostage until it’s had its way with you and leaving you dizzy when it finally relents.

Your arms give out on you and you collapse, exhaustion possessing you for a moment until your consciousness returns. You feel Joel pressing soft, sweet kisses to the back of your thigh, and suddenly become aware of the fact that you’re likely crushing his dick beneath your weight. You ease off of him slowly, your legs quivering with the effort, turning to face him as he shifts himself to a seated position and fastens his jeans.

The moonlight catches the sweat beading at his hairline; the glassy whites of his eyes and the dew on his lips beaming under the cool-toned hue. He looks like art, soft lines and harsh edges painted exactly where you’d want them; masculine shadows dancing across his skin as he shifts his weight, daring you to watch them move. You’ve never been so completely mesmerized by a man. Not once in your life has a man rendered you speechless, but here you are; irreversibly hypnotized and a stranger to the English language. You’re aware of yourself—painfully aware of your staggering silence and your gawkish gaze—and you shake your head, laughing at the unbelievable effect washing over you.

Joel’s cheeks turn ruddy, his irises shifting between you and his lap as he drapes his arm across his chest, giving his own shoulder a hearty squeeze.

“What’s funny?” he breathes, insecurity creeping in his throat.

You come to suddenly; the stark realization that you’re probably making the man nervous is enough to break you from your trance. You crawl towards him, your fingertips grazing the underside of his jaw, tilting him towards you until your lips are merely an inch apart.

“Nothin’ sugar,” you hum, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. “You’re just one hell of a cowboy.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #plus size reader #plus size!reader #joel x reader #young joel miller #tlou #the last of us

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 months ago

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The Family Business

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: You (20+ ish) are starting to feel left out by your brothers, but maybe not for the reason you think.

“Hey, we’ve got a case just a couple of hours away, looks like it could be a djinn.”

You looked up as Sam and Dean entered the library, Dean delivering the news.

“Ok, I’ll go get my stuff.” You started to rise from your chair, but Sam held up his hands.

“Actually, I think we’re good. You should, uh, you should just stay here.”

You were so surprised that by the time you thought of speaking up, your brothers were already past you and headed for the door.

“You sure?” You called out faintly.

“Yup,” Sam assured you before following Dean out the door.

You weren’t quite sure what had just happened. Ever since you’d become old enough to hunt, the boys had never left for a hunt without you.

Your mind started running back through the past week, trying to think of why your brothers wouldn’t want you around. All you could come up with was a moment from the last hunt; you had almost gotten hurt by a werewolf, but Dean had assured you over and over that it was his fault, not yours.

Maybe he had changed his mind.

…

The next two weeks passed much the same, with the boys not only excluding you from hunts, but from just about everything else that they did. They studied lore in the library without filling you in on anything they were hunting, they had a movie night in the Dean cave without inviting you, and they just excluded you in general from anything they did together, which was everything.

Some part of you felt that you should be angry at this, but instead despair clouded your emotions at each new rejection. You’d convinced yourself that it was because of that one mistake a few hunts ago, because what else could it be?

You’d lost your brothers’ trust, and with it their companionship. And you had no idea how to win it back.

You’d spent the last two weeks getting closer and closer to a breakdown. You could feel it—your mood was constantly gloomy, you’d almost completely lost your appetite, and you spent most of your time hidden in your room. Things that used to be so simple—asking Sam if you could join him on a run, joining Dean during shooting practice—now filled you with anxiety. You’d always felt comfortable doing things with your brothers, but the thought that they didn’t want you around made you second guess everything you did.

Unfortunately, the breakdown came at a time you didn’t appreciate.

“Hey, we’re headed out for a hunt.” You looked up from the book you were reading as Sam peaked into your room to update you.

“Do you need any help?” This was your standard question, despite the fact that you knew he’d say no again. You weren’t wrong.

“No, we’re fine. We’ll probably be back in a week, it’s pretty far away.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach at his words. You’d been feeling lonely enough with the brothers ignoring you, but for them to leave completely for a whole week?

“Are you—“ you stopped yourself completely when your voice cracked. You wanted to ask if he was sure, if he’d let you come along anyway, if there was anything you could do. But if he didn’t trust you or want you, the last thing you wanted to be was a burden. Besides, with the crack in your voice came a stinging behind your eyes, and you really didn’t want to cry in front of Sam.

But still, Sam had heard the start to your question, and he turned to listen.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Your voice came out as a choked mumble, and you cursed yourself, knowing that Sam would hear it. Sure enough—

“Hey, you ok?”

You focused your gaze on the book in your lap to avoid Sam’s penetrating stare as you answered.

“Yeah, fine.” Your voice didn’t come out at all the way you wanted it to, and you could feel your eyes misting over as you struggled to make your breathing sound normal with the lump building in your throat. You’d been keeping your feelings in for far too long, and apparently Sam’s words sparked your short fuse.

The book in front of you suddenly disappeared, snatched up by Sam’s hand as he came to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Ok, come on now, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You pulled your knees to your chest, still not looking at your big brother.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

You reluctantly lifted your head to look into Sam’s dark eyes despite knowing that he would see your unshed tears.

“What’s wrong?” Sam’s gaze was soft as flower petals, and his voice was hushed.

He thinks you’re weak.

You tried to push the voice in your head away as you finally faced your brother.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you said again. “Go on your hunt with Dean.”

“Don’t do that,” Sam said. “Don’t just shut me out.”

Something inside you snapped.

“Shut you out?” Your voice rose. “That’s rich, coming from you!”

Sam was taken aback by your sudden change.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you keep leaving me behind! I haven’t been on a hunt in weeks, and we never do anything together anymore!” Your anger was slipping back into despair, and you fought to stop it.

“Honey, we didn’t mean to—“ Sam was at a loss for words. “We just—“

“Just go.” You could feel yourself losing the battle as your tears returned. “Go away!” The pillow you threw at him missed by a mile, but he backed off anyway, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

The second he was gone, your resolve disappeared along with your anger. You tightened your arms around your knees and sobbed, burying your face in your knees as your whole body shook. Between the hunt you screwed up and the way you just acted with Sam, you didn’t think your brothers would ever want to be around you again.

…

Your whole body froze when you heard your door opening. You struggled to hold in your sobs, even though that meant holding your breath, too.

“Hey kid.”

Dean this time, not Sam.

“Shouldn’t you be on a hunt?” You managed to choke out, and you cringed at the sound of your tearful voice.

“Not until I tell you why you weren’t invited,” Dean replied.

Your throat constricted, and you swallowed hard.

“I already know why.”

“Do you?” You heard rather than saw when Dean closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. “Because I’m starting to think that I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not right.”

Your forehead crinkled in confusion, but you kept your head down.

“What?”

Your bed dipped as Dean sat on the end.

“You think it’s because of that hunt two weeks ago. Well, you’re right about that, sort of.”

You felt your hands start to shake as a sob unintentionally escaped your lips.

“Hey now.” Dean sighed, and you felt his hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok, just breathe.” His other hand came up to your other shoulder, and you felt his fingers flex as he pulled you towards him. You tucked your legs under you, opting instead to bury your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Shh, hey now,” Dean soothed, his hands coming up to cradle your head. “You didn’t let me finish, kiddo. I told you that that hunt wasn’t your fault, and I meant it. It was mine. But I almost got you killed out there, and I—“ Dean’s voice caught, and in the brief silence that followed he realized that your sobs had subsided, and you were breathing more evenly in his arms. Dean felt his own eyes start to sting as he thought about the way you almost died on that hunt. “And I realized,” he continued, “That we never bothered to see if you wanted this.”

“What?” You asked quietly.

“Look, I picked this life. Sammy tried to get out of it, but ultimately he picked it too. But you’ve just done what we told you, you followed us, but we never asked if you wanted to. Now, I know that that wasn’t how dad did things, he had to make us be a part of this life for our own protection. But now things are different. If you don’t want this, I’m not gonna make you do it.”

As Dean spoke, you began to feel so relieved that you nearly laughed.

“Why didn’t you tell me, you idiot?” You demanded, and at Dean’s chuckle you actually did laugh.

“Sam didn’t want to dump all this on you. He said we should let you sit out a few hunts first, then ask.”

“Why didn’t you let me help you with lore?” You pressed on, still confused.

“We didn’t want you to think you were benched from hunts, figured it would be best to just not have you do any of it.” Dean chuckled again. “I guess it was a stupid idea.”

“So…you do want me on hunts?” You mumbled.

“Of course we do,” Dean said firmly. “But not if you don’t want to be out there. This life could get you killed, you’ve gotta choose it if you want it.”

“Knock knock.” The two of you turned as Sam stepped into the room. “Hey, how’re we doing in here?”

“I think we’re ok,” Dean said, pulling away from you. “You think?”

“Yeah.” Your lips twitched into a smile. “We’re good.”

“What do you think about…joining us on the hunt?” Sam asked hesitantly. “Only if you want to.”

“I think…” you grinned. “Someone has to watch your butts.”

Sam laughed. “So that’s a yes?”

“I’ll get my stuff.”

You hopped off the bed so you could pack, but Dean climbed off next to you and pulled you into his arms.

“Welcome to the family business, kid.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester

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bengals-barnesbabe · 2 months ago

Text

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!Fem Reader

Summary: Venus goes on live after rehearsal and lets her fans take a glimpse into what her and Joe's nights together are like.

Chapter 24: Mr. Perfect

#Track9 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

TW: implied smut, language, haters.

WC: about 2k

Part 1 🖤

₊˚ପ ⊹ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ꕥ

@musicbyvenus has started an Instagram Live! Come join!

“Hello, all you beautiful people. How are my babes doing tonight? I haven’t done this in a hot minute, so be patient with me. I had a really long day and thought the best way to unwind would be for me to unload onto my darling fans.” The woman chuckled to herself while watching the viewer count grow by hundreds per minute.

Tell us all about your day bestie!

How are rehearsals going?

Are you gonna release the set list yet?

How’s Joe doing?

Where’s Joe?!?

“Wow these are coming in fast. I’m going to try and answer as many of your questions as possible, but thank you guys for just being here with me. I know I tend to go a bit awol with my public appearances, so I appreciate everyone here. Rehearsals are going great, I’m very happy with how the show is looking.”

@MarsOfficial Im expecting a least two Hamilton songs while I’m in attendance

“You always expect so much of me; you’re starting to sound like my mother, Y/Bff.”

@MarsOfficial then maybe you should start listening to me

A light-hearted giggle makes its way into the air as she reads her best friend’s comment. “I always listen to you!”

@MarsOfficial fat liesssss

“Y'all listen; the only reason I am in a relationship right now is because Y/Bff and Riana, two of my best friends, literally pushed us together. None of this would’ve happened without them.”

“What wouldn’t have happened without who?” A deep voice coming from behind her says.

OMG ITS JOEY

Joe said shit i have to work lol

PLEASE ASK HIM TO STAY

ON GOD HES SO HOT

I DON'T KNOW WHY I expected him to walk in shirtless, but I’m kinda disappointed

IS HE COMING TO THE LA SHOW???

“I was talking about how we got together.” Y/n peaks behind herself to watch the quarterback snicker while fishing through their kitchen cabinets.

“Oh you mean when your friends pretended to be my ex to make you jealous? Yea they were a great help.” Joe rolled his eyes while grabbing a snack and a bottle of water. “I’ll have you know, I was fully capable of doing that on my own.”

@Riri.intl24 why is he lying, he had almost two years to make a move and DIDNT

“Riana begs to differ. Can you grab me-“ Y/n’s cut off by her own water and snack being dangled in front of her. “Thank you.”

WHAT A GENTLEMAN

UGH I WANT ONE

IS THAT A CLIFF BAR

Y/n we’re judging you so hard right now

Joe takes a seat next to her but slightly out of camera. “Of course, and tell Riana I was trying to time it right.”

“Ok Mr. Time-Is-Of-The-Essence.” She smirked, then turned back to her phone. “Why are you people roasting my cliff bar?”

@MarsOfficial because you once said it tasted like good dirt then proceeded to inhale one

“I’m going to ignore that. Let’s answer some questions! Yes, Joey’s going to be at the LA show. I am not releasing the set list, but I do have an announcement regarding it. I’ve decided that my show will be about 2 hours long and each show will have 3-4 different surprise songs. I’m very excited about that. If yall have been keeping up on X, then you’d know the first show’s theme is ‘Slumber Party’. Unfortunately I can’t kick anyone out if they don’t dress up-“

ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO PERFORM HAMILTON SONGS?

Is Walk Like This on the Set List

“Fantastic.”

THE NERVE

“You are not anyone, you have to dress up.” She pointed at the man.

YESSS SIS

You should bring him on stage with you!

WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

Joey shook his head and sighed, “I was joking babe, kinda.”

“Uh huh sureeee. Whoever asked about Walk Like This, this answer is 100%. I absolutely love that song and the choreo, ugh amazing. I can’t wait to perform it.”

What song is Joe most excited for?

What songs will you absolutely NOT be singing?

Is ‘The One’ on the no list?

“I don’t even have to ask him which one he wants to see the most. Joey?”

“Crazy for You.” He smiled.

“See, he’s extremely predictable.”

scripted

“Ok hold on, I also like what you did with Tell Me You Love Me.” He so kindly added.

“Why thank you kind sir.”

@lahjay10_ gross

We love a supportive boyfriend

Husband Material

Get married please

ADOPT ME

Not all of Team Shiesty being in the comments

It's in their dating contract

“Yall are too funny.” Y/n looks over at Joe to see him with his head thrown back laughing. “What is it?”

“Your accent.” He coughed out.

“Joey, I don't have an accent.” She pouts.

Nahhh we know a southern belle when we hear one

Someone forgot she’s from Georgia

You’d think it’d get weaker the longer she stays up north

orrrr maybe she still has it because she doesn't actually live in Ohio

“Yes you do, but don’t worry I think it’s absolutely adorable.”

“I can’t with you.” She rolled her eyes, but the smile spreading across her cheeks told him otherwise.

@MarsOfficial I KNEW IT

@MarsOfficial I knew he had a thing for your country shit

“Aight, we are getting off task! Is there a No list? Technically yes, but no ‘The One’ is not on it. And before any of you start, Joseph, please tell the people how you feel about ‘The One’ once and for all.” Y/n turns the phone so the fans have a full picture of him.

“I feel like people have been waiting and praying for this moment.” He chuckles brushing his fingers through his hair.

CAUSE WE HAVEEEEE

TELL USSSS

WE NEED TO KNOW

He raises his right hand. “Ok, everyone listening. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m trying to deliver an address here, princess.” He said sternly. She pretended to zip her mouth shut and throw away the key.

Stop making me feel singleeee

“Ok where were we, right. I, Joe Burrow of the Cincinnati Bengals, solemnly swear that Track Nine is one of my actual favorite songs that Y/n has put out. Now all the commotion stops here, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.” As he finishes, they lock eyes and simultaneously burst into fits of laughter.

I knew it wasn’t that serious

We were clickbaited

THEY FOOLED US

Social Media is the devil

@MarsOfficial I tried to tell you

Her next project is gonna go so crazy

Hiiii from Canada

Instead of turning the phone back towards his girlfriend, Joey gently cuffs her waist and pulls her over to himself so she can continue her job. Then rests his hand over her shoulder.

Yoooo if you couldn’t see the height difference then, you def see it now🤭

Ugh they look so damn good together

Yall should do an whole day in the life

What happened to not liking cameras Joey???

“Okay guys, I think I’m gonna take a few more questions then call it a night.”

Noooo

Has Joe seen the entire show?

Booooo

Yes get off so Joe can get off from work and see his real girl

European fans here!!!

What is your ideal date night?

“I know I know, but our dinner’s almost here so we gotta wrap this up. No, he has not seen the whole show. I need my man to be surprised too. More importantly, he has no clue how Crazy for Me is being set.” She smirked as she felt his hand move down to her thigh.

Oh they gon wrap something else up tonight too

“Oh but does my mind wonder.” He bites his lip, no longer able to pay attention to anything but the woman on his right.

Omg the sexual tension is brewing

His hand continues to stroke her thigh until his phone goes off. “Fuck, food’s here.” He gets up and rounds the couch, but before he completely passes her their dark eyes meet and he makes a quick stop.

@MarsOfficial I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, they are literally CRAZY for each other

Dream vacation??

I’m sorry why can’t a man look at me like that

She was right about this not lasting very long

Shiiiiii I wonder how long HE lasts👀

@lahjay10_ yalls comments are getting out of hand

A strong but gentle hand lightly pulls her head back and they smile before he connects his lips to hers for a shy but sweet kiss, then he pecks her forehead and leaves the frame.

AGAIN A MAN LIKE THAT PLEASE

GOD WHOEVER IS LISTENING THANK YOU

That looked mad forced

You make me feel so single🤧

If you weren’t famous, what would you be doing?

Y/n quickly clears her throat before looking back at her comments.

@lahjay10_ oh god, get that off of my phone

She’s so flusteredddd

Girl we understand whewwww

“Uno, go away. Okay um, speed round. Dream vacation is definitely Greece. Ideal date night depends on how we’re feeling, but you can’t go wrong with a nice restaurant then coming home and getting in the hot tub. If I weren’t famous what would I be doing?”

Joe Burrow.

The man right behind you

That one Cincinnati quarterback maybe🤭

regular shit because they wouldn't even know each other

yall are unhinged

Her eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder at her boyfriend setting up their dinner. “Hmmmm yes to the first three.”

QUEEN

@Riri.intl24 Girl focus!

@MarsOfficial Ridiculous.

“Ok but for real if I wasn’t famous I guess I’d be trying to put myself through school.” She shrugged.

“Nope, you’d be in your residency program like you’re supposed to because I’d take care of everything. Now sign off of there so I can have my dessert.” He stated from the background.

“We didn’t order any dessert.”

Joe darkly smiled, “we didn’t have to. Everything I want is already here.”

HOT SHIT

OMG

thats so scripted🥱

I THREW THE PHONE

MSKSKFYCYHC

GIRL GO

“Fuck me.” She says under her breath, then reaches for her phone.

“I’m trying.”

SCREAMING

@lahjay10_ imma clown his ass for this so much

@MarsOfficial Venus you need to move faster

@Riri.intl24 Esa comida no se comerá pronto

(translation: that food is not getting eaten anytime soon)

“Jesus, bye babes. Love yall, and I can’t wait to meet you soon.” She stands, blows the camera a quick kiss, and turns off the phone.

As she walks toward the dining room, he meets her half way and backs her up against a wall. “Fucking finally, I’ve wanted you since I first walked in.”

His hands go straight to her soft waist and his lips meet hers with an intense fervor. Breathless moans are smothered against his lips and her fingers tangle in his hair. “Wha-what about the food?”

Joe grips her ass, his lips pull off of hers, and they begin to suck purple bruises on her neck and behind her ear. “You always say it tastes better after it's reheated anyway.”

He pecks her lips and smiles at his handy work: her lips swollen and red, eyes burning with a dark desire, neck glistening with a shiny magenta hue and knees trembling from the pressure. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her face heats up as she takes in the sight of her lover with a matching set of glossy lips. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything, and I’m about to show you exactly how much.” He smirks then throws her over his shoulder and takes off towards the bedroom.

“Joey!”

₊˚ପ ⊹ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ꕥ

a/n: part two this weekend♡

<<< Ch. 23: Tour Countdown | Part Two >>>

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mirangel · 1 year ago

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HII RANN ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE I REQUESTED SOMETHING SOOO LIKE CAN YOU DO ALHAITHAM X HYBRID READER X KAVEH AND LIKE THE READERS IN HEAT LOLOLOL

(I suffer from an unclean mind 😂😂)

monthly heat !

cw: gn!reader, hybrid!reader, heat, slightly omegaverse-y, polyam, kavetham here and there, praise, overstim, degradation, double pounding, dumbification

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

you can’t help but drown yourself in the overwhelming feeling of your heat. you practically raided your two roommates’ closets in order to prepare for this after all, but nothing could come close to the two men’s presence themselves. you could hardly breathe, grinding yourself in your beloved architect’s silk pillow, while you bury your face into your scribe’s clothing, begging to no one in particular for them to come home quicker, for them to come home and satisfy your needs. luckily for you however, they came home earlier than they both expected, and they were greeted to a beautiful sight of you humping kaveh’s pillow, while drowning your entire senses in alhaitham’s clothes.

“my… how naughty of you, to be playing with yourself while we’re away.” alhaitham sneers, pinning himself above your needy body while kaveh moves his body next to yours, rubbing the small of your back with his slender hand, using the other hand to rest his head on his fist, a gentle smile on his face. “alhaitham dear, this poor thing’s in heat! we should take care of them, it’s our duty as their mate after all!” the blond chirps, giving a small peck on the other’s cheek before unzipping his pants, with the other following suit shortly.

kaveh is a much kinder man, who treats you like glass as he presses kisses on your body as he mumbles sweet praises into your ear. he tells you how much you fit him perfectly when he slots himself inside of you, how beautiful you look underneath him, moaning when he takes you entirely, encouraging your moans that slip out of your mouth, coaxing you to go further, “tell me what you need, dear bunny.” he coos, caressing your cheek with his hand as he thrusts himself deeper into you.

alhaitham is much rougher, who treats you like the animal you are when he brings you to your peak over and over, he’ll bring you the satisfaction you deserve, despite what his other partner says, he’ll treat you as rough as you want him to go. “my, you little slut, if i had known you’d want this sooner i could’ve fucked you as hard as you want.” he grins, prodding a sensitive spot inside you that makes your legs curl around his waist.

the two of them together are like two devils in disguise, they find ways to satisfy you in unison without even giving each other more than a single glance and a nod, their two cocks pounding your hole with delicacy and toughness in one mixed setting, their ragged breaths in your ear as they mumble and moan about how you good you feel. you can hardly think, but that’s okay, you’re content being like this. your heat may be temporary, but their love for you is eternal.

ok!! i had this marinating in my inbox for a while and unfortunately for me! i am drunk off my shit writing this so this may be poorly written i am so sorry haha

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therealslimshakespeare · 2 months ago

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Right?! I was so touched by the water aesthetics, as well! 😭 my girl’s Astro has to be water I think. Strong and inexorable but oh so very adaptable

YES THIS! The big smiles in all the pins where she was swimming just took me out it’s so her

Ok ok but as we are on the talk of water and such, guess where I put Benny and her in my first, experimental blurb of writing them.?! Water…

TWC SNEAK PEAK:

Without thinking, because she is twenty four now and has been to the beach and has swam with friends and has lived a life, Lu shucks her dress, her shoes, her slip and dives into the lake, nylon undergarments ruined and only just sufficient to be considered a covering. It’s fine, it’s normal, she comes up to the surface and she knows, somewhere far back in her mind she knows, her chest and its scar is visible but it doesn’t matter. The sun is bright, the water is reflecting so strongly she has to squint and through it all Benny is tossing his hair out of his eyes and laughing between puffs of exertion at treading water. He is laughing at having jumped in, at the fact she went for it, too. It doesn’t matter that her body is on display, as a gruesome curiosity or an incitement to desire.

She is swimming with Benny and it’s all just fine.

It makes the moment so utterly enjoyable Lu feels like all her longing to be out here, to be surrounded by this big vast world— it’s been close to right, very near what she’s needed, it’s just made a little better with him and that’s unfortunate as he lives in Chicago. Benny shouldn’t be in the city, he should be in a sparkling lake with minnows assaulting his feet and diamonds of water caught in his lashes.

They’re laughing at each other, so much so they’re close to drowning, and they don’t have to say why. It’s perfect.

#those who can #blurbs #…sorta #Benny x Lu #postwar things

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0mysteiarchives · 9 months ago

Text

One-Time Collaboration..? • Idol!Reader x Robin

A/N: somewhat modern au??? I mean robin just works under a company and thats it also unfortunately no Sunday mention i'm sorry gang but I swear I am a loyal wife with my 160+ pulls for these two- warnings: a closed off and slightly oblivious reader that adapted to their environment , random fluff from an op who just dropped angst yesterday , somewhat?? affectionate robin in your area , and a RUSHED ASS WORK-

• So your manager called in the middle of your practice session and explained that you’ll be having a collaboration with Pena.Co’s precious angel: Robin. She actually debuted 4 months after you did, and in all honesty she's definitely surpassed you with her amazing voice. And with a pretty face like hers, everyone talked about her .

• Just like they reacted with your debut.

• You thought that she’d be another like those idols you had worked with who put on a loving and lively attitude to their fans, and be an absolute bitch off stage when no ones watching. That’s how everything works in this industry after all, everyone just wants the money and attention.

• So the first time you met you merely gave dry responses, you didn’t mean to be rude but you just wanted this over with. Any questions she asked was met with one word or sentence.

Obviously your management didn’t like that attitude. Oh well.

• Yet somehow that didn’t stop Robin from trying to talk to you. She doesn’t seem bothered at the fact that you’re trying to push her away, and you could feel the eagerness to have a proper conversation.

...why???

• You pretty much gave up ignoring the idol and finally decided to talk to her properly as you turned around to face her and give your name, eventually you two became close friends.

• Sorry, did I say close? I meant reeeaaallly, really close.

• In a span of 3 weeks, Robin seems to be quite open to complimenting you. You'd be practicing your choreo or vocals and she'll be showering you with compliments that would leave you a flustered mess.

• In the next month, she invites you to small things that you're interested in. A certain movie you wanted to watch? She'll ask you to join her to watch it in a VIP area. A new restaurant that peaked your interest recently? Consider a room for just the two of you reserved. What a nice friend!

• How does she excuse these peaceful, romantical moments of being in each other's prescence without interruption from rabid fans or thirdwheeling staff? Just a personal hangout between two idols to know about each other more!

• But if it's just a hangout..why do you feel your heart beating faster when places her hand on yours? When she gives you a sweet smile that's only for you? When she wraps her arms around your waist to engulf you into a surprise hug? When-

• ..Ok bro I think you're in love, just saying.

• ..Oh shit you're in love with Penacony's rising idol.

• ...Good taste.

• Now this can go two ways: You silently accept that Robin might never reciprocate your feelings, or you confront her about it and reach a conclusion you've fallen for her charm.

• Oh wow! It turns out she requested to have a partnership with you because she fell in love at first sight since your first appearance on the stage. She followed your footsteps and tried to get closer and hoped you'd feel the same way about her.

• Whilst Robin was rambling and basically confessing her mutual love for you with red cheeks and held your hands gently, you just stared into her eyes.

• That's kinda cute...

• Wait what was that last part?— —

A/N: guys ik its rushed im sorry its like 1 am rn usiadfsdlkji

Btw there's going to be a pt 2 and here's some future works soon: -HoV!Reader meeting HSR!Himeko -Found Family with the Nameless -Modern AU Skating // Sparkle , Acheron , Robin , Sunday , Firefly , Adventurine -Guardian Angel!Robin and Sunday x reader -Genshin!Reader sent to the hsr universe -Streamer!AU // Adventurine , Sunday , Sparkle Shii that's kinda alot ermmmm... idc anymore goodnight gang :sob:

#Countless Possibilities #hsr robin x reader #robin x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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bogleech · 1 year ago

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Ok but I have seen you talk about this so many times, even referencing it in your old cartoons, so I gotta ask - when and how did you fall in love with neopets, like that?

Wait, is it that obscure now? I didn't know a single person from its inception to roughly 2010 who didn't have a neopets account. It was the single biggest gaming-esque name on the internet for years. Celebrities casually mentioned playing it, it got mainstream marketing tie-ins, it had plush toys people waited in line to buy up and a TCG made by the same company as Magic the Gathering. It's not that I especially "fell in love with neopets" like it's a niche thing but that there was a time it was almost outselling Pokemon, so it's just another huge cultural phenomenon that was a big part of everyone's lives during my teens to twenties, and hits my special interest in creature design since it has THOUSANDS (beyond the pets alone) ranging in quality from extremely creative to just plain heinous. I personally only got invested in it when they introduced the mutant pets, though, because it started out having almost like a "rule" against making any pets that were "ugly." They'd joke about it as a prank for instance, and originally only featured the mutants as part of a storyline they never intended players to actually adopt. They even had a fake alternate version of the site with fake "adoptions coming soon" and somehow didn't anticipate the userbase genuinely wanting the slime creatures.

The Chia and Aisha were my favorites but mainly the chia because that kind of "scuzzy" creature was already my own design aesthetic, polar opposite of the site's established style and reminded me of if Jeff Goldblum got fused with a tardigrade instead of a fly:

Is that just me? I feel like the tardigrade similarity jumps right out but I think it was an accident and they were possibly actually thinking of the rotting giant from Nausicaa:

The fact that they intended its design to be unlovably ugly and were surprised anyone wanted it only made it more sympathetic. Eventually they made mutants available and I got fully invested into playing, at the time having to spend hours a day on their little flash games until I could afford a mutant after months of labor. But then a couple of years later they just abruptly decided they really didn't feel like having its design around anymore and "updated" it, which back then was automatic for all pets owned by all players with no going back:

It had unfortunately been fairly common that they'd just completely, totally redo a pet like this with no warning and no user poll to make sure it's what anyone wanted. You just had to pray they never did it to your favorites.

All the other mutants in that earlier image would also get completely changed or never released at all. They still kept some of the other "gross" mutants and would make even grosser, so that wasn't even part of the reasoning. Just the random whims of mad gods I guess. I think what killed the game for a lot of people was actually when they did this to basically everyone at once, standardizing almost all the pet artwork so they could wear clothes in their new dressup system. It wasn't as drastic as replacing a sludge guy with some kind of hairy leaf guy but it did eliminate hundreds of technically unique designs from the site, and I found someone else's examples they put together so I thankfully don't have to do it myself:

If anyone's not familiar enough with neopets or didn't figure that out from the last paragraph, the ones on the right are just recolors of the same exact art as all members of their species with added accessories (now wearable items) Players used to work hard to get pets they wanted based on their unique poses and personality, but you could only keep the original art for a small number of these. The customization feature kind of attracted a different new fandom, from what people say, but it never approached a fraction the site's peak, which is probably how the brand wound up getting sold to some NFT bros who aren't even involved in the site itself and supposedly never even spoken to its remaining staff outside some business emails? This is unrelated to the brief period it was bought by scientologists and the siterunners had to fight back against their propaganda leaking into it. I really didn't expect to turn this response into a mini article, I should really just make a thing on bogleech.com about it sometime. Some of my tumblr mutuals to this day are people I met through the neopets fandom and probably have equally lengthy memories/complaints.

#neopets #pokemon #scientology #nft's

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hotluncheddie · 8 months ago

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middle aged chubby Steve? please? 😳🥺♥️

lovely anon!!!! hello!!!! middle aged chubby Steve is so important actually. middle aged, chubby, happy steve ❤️

middle aged steve who finally feels settled in life. feels safe, finally. who has really come to like the comfortable place his body has landed at. softer, a little round, but still with his jock base.

just older, happier, squishier.

steve who’s married to his, long long time love eddie munson. a half retired rockstar and part time dnd streamer. broadcasting with the band and whichever celebrity guest has been enticed by his dungeon master charm.

steve who becomes a fan favourite and background staple over the covid streams, sleepily kissing eddie on the cheek whenever he wakes up from a nap, unaware that the chat is being flooded with love for him. mostly about how cute they are, how nice it is to see older queers in happy heathy relationships. but there's also a good few comments about the way steve's shirt fits, the way his arms look, the peak of chest hair and the gravel in his voice from just waking up.

oh, and the glasses, the people love the glasses.

eddie gets asked about a picture of them that went viral during an interview. the host shows the screen grab of eddie trying and failing to block where you can see steve in the background, who’s stretching his hand above his head, belly button and faded scars just peaking out of his old cropped t-shirt, ‘i <3 hot moms’ stretched across his chest.

eddie laughs and mumbles his way though an explanation that the streams can be kinda last minute, his husband not always picking up on eddie’s doing them, not without his hearing aids. and yes he’s seen the picture, he thinks it’s funny, the t-shirt was stolen from his best friend robin.

the begging to have steve on screen or join in a whole stream get so big and so often that eddie gets overcome with jealousy. and its silly, he knows it is. knows its the just way the internet works, knows Steve doesn't have eyes for anyone but him. but, still, its the principal of the thing.

and then steve grow a moustache.

it’s just for fun, and because he think eddie will like it. eddie loves it. but unfortunately, so does his chat. so does the whole internet.

eddie posts a video, on the official stream page, of him ambushing steve with a petition he’s made, asking for the moustache to go.

eddie’s the sole signature.

Steve is fresh back from a walk, enjoying the spring sunshine, gold chain dangling into his chest hair and running shorts showing off tanned thighs, digging slightly into his hips.

steve pouts.

‘you’re too hot, the internet is too horny for you. shave the moustache and stop being a dilf.’ eddie explains. demands. pleads with his husband who is too hot and too comfortable being caught randomly by the stream camera.

Steve just leans on one hip, hand coming to his waist. other hand scratching at the stubble on his cheeks. his husband is so ridiculous.

but, eventually he agrees, to shave it. (once he gets eddie to admit, red faced, that’s its because he’s jealous and he does love the moustache. which steve finds very cute.)

he agrees to shave it. but only after halloween.

he wants to dress as hopper from the 80s. just to annoy him. eddie says ok, and enjoys it while it lasts.

#this is so short sorry #also so silly sorry sorry #hehehe #ty for the ask tho!!!#mwah!#hotlunch #ask #steddie #chubby steve harrington

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dragunflies · 6 months ago

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⤯ 𝐈𝐧 𝐊𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 ->

Ellie Williams X Fem Reader

omg, my first fic, eek! so scared lowk but I have so much saved in my docs that I need to spill soon. Ok, love ya, lmk what u think, constructive crit is welcomed per usual <3 ⚢

❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❦❧❦❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❦❧❦❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧❦❧

It was a cool mid Autumn morning. You sat there with the open window breezing against your flushed face and loose hair. It was an empty one-bedroom house, the cold air accompanied by the hollow walls made it eerie but relaxing. Wearing simply a baggy t-shirt and underwear you rose from the nest of a bed that formed while you slept. Although you snore, you sleep like a baby. With a head full of messy dark brown hair, a quick finger comb through your hair evens out the texture and density to some extent. Rolling out of bed, you crack your back, letting out a groan of relief, slowly easing your way out of your cozy bed. Come the fall time, the need for patrol hits its peak, most infected don’t stay out in the cold, so they tend to be the most active at the cusp of autumn.

As your eyes adjust to the light from the outside, so do your ears, the muttering of Jackson echoed through the neighborhood and led into your home. You reach for the hairbrush next to your bedside and try your best to aggressively claw out the knots left.

While you brushed and brushed your long hair, you heard the voices becoming more distinct. One specific member of the town, Ellie, became particularly known very quickly and very shortly. Her voice was raspy and stuck out quickly from the crowd; you could pinpoint it was her instantly. Not only did she just arrive a few years prior, but she was quick. With a quick tongue and a quicker fist, no one fucked with her. She was like a chihuahua, all bark and bite. Intimidating, but intriguing and sometimes weird to look at for too long. But oh did she piss you off, getting cocky and assertive in the smallest of tasks. She always insists on signing the postbooks, never shares her rations, and complains about hypothermia despite only wearing thin canvas sneakers.

God was she the fucking worst.

Hearing all the commotion outside, you persist, throwing on a pair of jeans, a belt, and a long-sleeved black top, rolling up the sleeves to your elbows. As you get to the door, you swing on a pair of your best and only boots and slide into a pocket-ridden jacket. You searched for your lighter and handgun, striking the white lighter to double-check its usage. You then make your way out of the suburban make-shift home and easily make your way to Jackson, the city you grew up in.

The leaves crunched below your boots as you made your way to the town center, where the majority of the town gathered that morning for the patrol assignments. Looking around you see familiar face after face, lining the circle surrounding Maria and the handful of men who surrounded her. Fortunately, you missed the entire meeting, but unfortunately as you have zero idea what the fuck you’re assigned to do. Surprisingly, Maria didn’t call you out like she usually does, by now she would've had your neck for being this casually late to a meeting like this, especially such an important one-

“Y/n.” Maria states assertively, the loud chatting turning to a shushed mumble.

You look around trying to avoid the piercing eye contact but falling back into her stone-cold stare, it went right through you, sending shivers and goosebumps.

“Yes, ma’am?” You ask, never using such proper language when addressing someone, ever in your life, you shuttle at the look Maria gave.

Her boot steps sounded louder than they ever did before.

“This is the 5th time this month.” She barked, the surrounding crowd turning away and quickly sharing chatter with their cliques.

“Yeah, I know, just trust me, I was in a rush, I didn’t even put my hair up,” You say, placing your hands in your pockets in the hope of hiding your anxious picking.

“I watch you stroll into the center all relaxed, you seem in no way of a rush,” Maria stated, her voice lowering as she raised a single eyebrow.

“Okay and?” Y/n mumbles, “Guarantee it wasn’t anything important.”

She lowered her eyebrow, crossed her arms, and raised her head abruptly, “You missed patrols, you were assigned the post north-east of Kelly,” Maria’s lips curled, looking y/n up and down as she walked away to her office building, “better get packing, that’s nothing important, right?”. You could hear the smile form on Maria’s lips as she walked away.

Are you fucking kidding me? Kelly, the farthest post owned by Jackson, all because you missed one meeting? Not even just the Kelly outpost, the farthest fucking post all the way up in the peaks- oh my fucking god.

Growing up in Jackson, you were trained for all different kinds of situations. Though you weren’t born here, it was where you learned everything you know now. Combat, shooting, hunting, gathering, and all the basics. Yeah, you weren’t always at the top of your class in everything, but you were a damn good aid. Knowing each medicine by its prefix or suffix, biology, and medicine is where you shine. Yeah, not combat, but you can survive, that’s all that matters.

“Who am I posted with?” Y/n called out, a scoff leaving your voice as you exhaled, her eyes closed hoping for a big group where she could simply sit back and watch.

With Maria’s back still turned, she answered with a pause. “Williams, she has the experience you don’t, trust me, you won't be that screwed.”

You stood there waiting for more people to be announced on your patrol. Nope, just Ellie. Fucking. Williams.

With a groan of dissatisfaction, you turned around, looking through the crowds of people, with everyone holding warm mugs and staying clumped together, it was hard to find that short mother-fucker. You still couldn’t believe it, peering between each conversation, trying to find the auburn-headed girl. She was so obviously loud this morning, how could you not find her now, when you actually needed to get ahold of her.

Suddenly, after walking around town center for a minute, you overhear a group of chatter,

“I can’t believe Maria would pair you two up like that,” One voice echoed down an alley.

“I know- like out of all of us standing there, she picks y/n.” Another states.

“I’m fucked.” Says another.

That was the voice. The raspy and obvious voice stood out so quickly to your ears.

You followed the group of voices, walking down a strip of self-owned stores, the in-between of the two buildings had voices spilling out of it. You walked closer, and upon turning into the alleyway,

There she was.

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licorice-tea · 10 months ago

Text

Loving and Letting Go

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x reader

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, eventually fluff, a little bit of platonic Zosan <3

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: FIRST REQUEST YAY! tysm to the anon who requested this, i loved writing this! hopefully it fits what you wanted! and ugh i tried to write it so it’s clear that sanji is genuinely in love for the reader, so much so that he’s willing to grow and change for them. he’s just so sweet, one of my fave characters for sure! oh also the title is from a song by Pham Viphurit! enjoy <3

Sanji loves you, so so so much. More than he could ever put into words, or cards and gifts of perfectly delicious meals and fruity drinks, or even hugs and kisses every time the two of you cross paths. But he still tries to convey the extent of his feelings for you, though it will never be enough in his humble opinion.

You, on the other hand, hold the complete opposite opinion. Yes, Sanji is sweet and loving and a great boyfriend, but sometimes he just does too much. Like, when he gives you presents out of the blue; you enjoyed the gifts at first, but overtime you started to feel bad for him spending all of his extra money on you. Then there were the things he’d say to you; you could be doing the most mundane of tasks, or be sick and rotting in bed, and Sanji would still address you as “my goddess.” Simply put, you feel undeserving of the amount of attention he gives you, and it makes you nervous.

Today, like everyday since the two of you became official (and quite a while before that), you wake up in his arms. Though Sanji wakes up much earlier than you in order to prepare breakfast and coffees and teas for the crew, he always makes time to come back and wake you up. And you know, as soon as you shuffle or allow your breathing to become uneven, that he’ll know you’re awake. So you try to fall back asleep in hopes he’ll just go and let you wake up alone. At least then your performance wont have to start until breakfast.

Unfortunately, Sanji just knows you too well. He notices the gentle flutter of your lashes and how your breathing had quickened, if only for a moment. Some people might consider this a luxury; to have such an attentive partner who knows you better than you know yourself. And you did too, at one point.

“Mon amour,” he whispers, “are you awake? I brought you a cup of coffee, and breakfast is ready in the kitchen.”

Sanji’s breath is warm on the back of your neck, but he places a kiss there and suddenly it’s burning hot. He’s so insatiable, smothering you in displays of affection first thing in the morning.

You really can’t take it anymore, and so you gently remove the arm that lays across you. “Go away, Sanji.” It comes off harsher than intended, but the buildup of stress from his constant admiration has reached its peak.

“…Are you ok? Are you sick?”

You sigh, still not turning to face him. “I’m fine, I just… you need to let me be.”

“Angel, have I done something? I’ll make it up to you, I swear, name what you want-“

“I want you to go away.”

Sanji holds his breath for a moment. You’re wounding him with your words, which you should feel bad for, but he’s literally giving you a headache. He doesn’t understand that even you, usually so accepting and reciprocating of all his love, have limits and require space.

He retracts his arms from around you and slips out of the bed, making sure to fix the comforter after. Sanji’s hand lingers on the door knob for a moment before he finally turns it. And while you let out a relieved, but shaky exhale, he tries to hold back tears on the other side of the door.

The tension between you two is palatable as ever. Not that there isn’t always some sort of tension, because there is, but usually it’s more… passionate. Or romantic, at the very least. But for the first time, the rest of the crew can tell that you and Sanji seem to be in the middle of some sort of lovers quarrel. He watches you from a distance and attempts to approach you several times throughout the course of the day, and every time you find some way to make yourself busy.

Even Zoro, in all his obliviousness, notices how little you two are interacting. “Hey, shitty cook.”

“Piss off, Zoro. I’m not in the mood for your stupidity.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya know, with you and y/n. She’s avoiding you, so… What’d you do?”

“I DIDN’T-“ Sanji catches himself yelling, and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. She just told me to leave her alone, and I’m respecting her wishes.”

“Huh. Well, alright then.”

Zoro doesn’t speak further, but Sanji can tell he has something to say since he’s still sitting at the kitchen island instead of taking his sake to enjoy on the deck. “What? Just spit it out already, asshole.”

He shrugs. “You’re probably suffocating her with all your… love-y shit.”

“Suffocating? No, no I treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Y/n is my goddess, my night and day, she is the queen of my heart and-“

“You see what I mean? Y/n is great or whatever, but she’s a human. She’s one of our crewmates, for fucks sake, and you worship the ground she walks on instead of treating her like one.”

“Because I love her.”

“She knows you love her, idiot.”

“… Hm. You think so?”

“It’s pretty fucking obvious.”

Sanji scoffs. “Whatever.”

He walks out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, but mind elsewhere. Perhaps Zoro… is right? Even that doesn’t sound possible, but… Sanji could understand how you might, on occasion, feel a little smothered. But even if you did, he thought you enjoyed it! You always welcomed his lips on yours or his hands around you, and you often would giggle and accept his compliments, returning them with your own. So when did you start to feel fed up with him? Had he not paid you enough attention, too caught up in worshipping you as the (surprisingly emotionally intelligent) swordsman had said? And most importantly, was it too late now to repair the damage?

Sanji finds you in the aquarium bar, finally, after searching the upper deck and checking your room and your study below deck. The door is open, so he knocks against the frame. You turn away from the tank to look at him with eyes wide open.

“Can we talk?”

You nod silently, and scoot over in the booth seat assuming that he would want to sit by you. But to your (pleasant?) surprise, Sanji takes a seat in a chair on the other side of the table.

“Mon- ahem, y/n. I’ve come to understand that maybe… Maybe you’ve felt smothered by me, recently. Is that true?”

You’re surprised that he recognizes why you’re upset. “Mhm. A little.”

“Can you tell me more, my love? I want to fix this, to fix my behavior.”

“…You’re perfect, Sanji. And I love you so much, it’s just… It makes me anxious when you’re always so- so extreme, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Which, he already knows; the gifts, the constant PDA, being around you 24/7…

You sigh. “You know what I mean, Sanji…”

“Yes, I do, but I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want you to feel bad because of me.” He thinks.

“You’re always hovering over me, and as much as I love being around you, too, it’s just too much. I need space, sometimes, and I’m only human but you treat me like… Like I’m somehow different or better than the others, and that… I don’t know, it makes me feel bad about myself.”

“I never want you to feel that way-“

“But you do. I feel guilty and nervous and- and..” you sniffle. Oh god, you’re crying. “I love you, but sometimes it’s too much.”

Sanji feels tears pricking the in the corners of his eyes, too. Was there really such a thing as too much affection? Clearly, if he had just made you cry from all of it.

“Y/n… I- I’m so sorry, I never meant to overwhelm you.”

You respond with an equally soft tone. “I know. It’s ok.”

He shakes his head and reaches an arm across the table, but second guessed the action and retracts his hand. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have ever done anything to make you uncomfortable in the first place.

You reach out this time, putting one hand over both of his. He glances up at you. “You didn’t know.”

“Still….”

“In the future, maybe… Maybe try to do a little less, if that makes sense?”

Sanji nods, and reaches out again; this time to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I just love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too.”

While cradling your face in one hand, he continues. “I’ll give you more space from now on, if that’s what will make you feel better.”

“I think it will.”

And it does. In the coming days, Sanji keeps the PDA to a minimum, and even makes a point to call you by your name more often than he addresses you as “my goddess.” It makes you feel more seen, and definitely more comfortable.

You still want him to hold you most nights. It’s hard to fall asleep without his arms around you after so long getting used to the feeling of him; his love, his protection, his dedication and his breath. And of course, Sanji still indulges you. The great, passionate love he has for you hasn’t gone away- it never will- but the way he shows you affection are more so on your terms now.

Besides: what greater way could there be to show you his love, than by doing everything in his power to make you happy?

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #sanji x you #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #black leg sanji #hurt/comfort #angst #sanji angst #sanji fluff

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dbnightingale24 · 8 months ago

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My Little Decoy

A StevexReaderxBucky Messy Triangle

Another story for Patreon! So, for this one, I'm a bit anxious (when am I not?), because this definitely took off in the complete opposite direction of what I initially planned. That being said, I hope you all enjoy it!

Thank you as always to @fuckingbye for the amazing moodboard, I love you to bits for literally everything you do! I was in the middle of updating three other stories when this idea came to me, so please just work with me! (I'm so sorry I'm like this.)

Anywho, here we go!

Word Count: 34,776 (I'm not even gonna apologize anymore)

Warnings: Honestly, this entire fucking story. SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Threesome, Lying, Infidelity, Emotional Cheating, Swearing, Drinking, Infertility, Family Drama, Angst, Lusting, Daddy Kink, Running Away, Tie Play, Cuff Play, Crying, Fluff, Best friends to lovers...that's all I can think of? They're honestly so many.

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Don't Look So Blue, You Should've Seen Right Thru, I'm Using You, My Little Decoy

Summary: You truly do have the best intentions when you try to move on and suppress your feelings for your best friend Steve, and try to move on with Bucky. Unfortunately, life doesn't give a damn about intentions. Neither does love.

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

You wonder how the hell it got to this point in the first place as you lay in Steve’s soft bed sheets. What feels like it should be a quiet moment of peace is juxtaposed with your current reality; Bucky pounding on the front door and you and Steve conspiring to think of some kind- any kind- of excuse.

You truly don’t understand how it got to this.

It all feels like it started so long ago. You didn’t even know 6 years could feel so fast, much less pass so quickly. You look around at where you are now, at Steve, as you listen to the shaking of the front door against Bucky’s fist as he continues thumping away. Fuck. What if memories lie? Maybe it is that long ago.

6 Years Earlier...

“Babe, you ever had a night out in the city?” Bucky asked as you took off your gear.

Training was brutal and everyone was looking for a way to relieve stress. You knew The Avengers were all planning to meet up at some club downtown, but you had other plans.

“I have, and as much fun as it can be, I have other plans,” you laugh as you take your hair out of the tightest ponytail you’d ever had it in.

“Oh? What are you getting into?” Natasha laughs, making her way over with Bruce holding onto her as if he’d lose her.

“My friend’s band is playing tonight. I promised her I’d go if we finished up early enough.”

“Oh, this I gotta see!” Bruce chimes in as you laugh and shake your head. “You never let us have a peak into your personal life!”

“God, I haven’t been to a show in forever,” Natasha chimes in with raised eyebrows.

He wasn’t wrong. You played everything so close to the chest; wanting to keep those you love and care for the most safe...wanting to keep yourself safe. Since none of them were relenting (not to mention they’re the damn Avengers), you finally agreed and told them to meet you outside of your room at the compound in about two hours.

“Is it too late for me to get in on this?” Steve asks just as the group was about to disperse.

“There you are!” Bucky interjects before anyone has a chance to say anything. “Y/N is giving us a peak into her personal life! We’re all meeting at her place in two hours and going from there,” he laughs patting his best friend on the back.

Steve looked at you with a cocked eyebrow and you just laugh and nod, giving him the ‘OK’ to tag along. Unbeknownst to the others, you and Steve hung out the most. No, he’d never been privy to your personal life, but you two spent a lot of time watching movies and listening to music together on the weekends. Occasionally, Bucky would get in on the action, but it was mainly you and Steve. You and Steve had a certain level of comfort that you didn’t have with the rest of them. It was more of an unspoken, private thing and that’s how the both of you preferred it. You both understood each other, and neither of you ever made the other feel sad or out of place for things that had gone wrong in each other’s past. You both had wounds you were still healing from, and you gave each other the space needed for that to happen.

You’d always had a thing for Steve. He kept himself at a distance, so it was difficult for you to tell if he ever felt the same. After a while, you’d stopped trying and just accepted him as a friend. He told you that he’d wanted to go back and stay with Peggy, but he was too afraid to leave Bucky on his own again, so he’d come back instead. He wasn’t even sure if Bucky would ever be okay with being alone; Steve just stayed without asking him. It seemed like the right thing to do, and he didn’t hate the current timeline too much.

Soon enough, everyone is in your small little complex, drinking and laughing as you put together the last bit of your outfit. The thought of Steve joining all of you had you more anxious than you cared to admit, so you chalked it up to the normal anxiety of inviting your work colleagues into your personal life.

Which was more than fair.

“I’m sure you look amazing, lets go! I’m too excited for this!” Natasha hollers as she makes her way into your bedroom.

“Nat!”

“Oh, they’re all in there drinking away! You’re fine,” she laughs, closing the door behind her. “Well shit!”

“I swear to God, I’ll change right now!”

“No! You look amazing!” she promised as her hands covered her mouth. “None of us have ever seen you out of work clothes, and babe...you look amazing,” she laughs in shock.

“Should I change? I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea-”

“If you’re comfortable, who cares. No one wants to interfere with your personal life. I think we’re all more afraid of pushing you away,” she laughs.

“You really think it’s okay?”

“I mean, I think you’re hot as fuck,” she laughed as you rolled your eyes, “but I think you look amazing.”

“You sure?”

“Get enough alcohol in them , they won’t even notice when you leave for the bathroom,” she laughed.

Even though you laughed along with her, you knew better. James Buchanan Barnes kept his attention on you almost as well as Steve, but you never thought anything of it. It always had a more platonic feeling than with Steve, almost more familial.

When you came out, Steve was the first to look at you. His mouth slightly agape was enough to make you wanna go back, but Bucky was quick to chime in-

“Someone is ready for a night out,” he laughed.

That’s all it took.

Soon enough, you were taking shots and laughing with everyone else. Even Pepper and Tony were excited and joined you all. Your life was something so foreign to them, and you could tell that they all felt extremely excited that you trusted them enough.

In all honesty, you felt more comfortable because Steve was there. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you, and you’d never let anything happen to him. If you were being completely honest, you’d only wanted to invite him out. How it spiraled, you’re still not sure but it did. It The only thing that felt off was letting him see you dressed as you were. It was weird for all of them to see you dressed as you were, but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You were in red plaid crop top, with tight fighting black jeans that hugged your hips in just the right way, and black low top heels. You put your hair in loose curls, and finished it off with eyeliner and mascara. After a brutal day of training, you really didn’t wanna spend forever doing your makeup, because you knew you’d wanna come home after everything was over and go right back to sleep. Yeah, everything was hugging your body in just the right way, but you weren’t about to change.

You were introducing them to your life.

Before you all left, Thor filled three flasks with his mead from Asgard for himself, Steve, and Bucky and you laughed pretty damn hard.

“We wanna enjoy this night too,” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes.

The walk was easy enough, but it felt like it took forever. People kept asking for pictures with the OG Avengers, they had a million questions, and of course they were all happy to be as kind as possible. It’s not that you minded all that much, but you really missed your best friend. Work had been kicking your ass, she had been extremely busy, and was in the middle of planning her wedding. Nights off were extremely rare, but actually getting to see her and her friends perform? It had been forever.

“You made it!” she squealed once you were finally inside the club with everyone, almost knocking you over with how hard she hugged you.

“I told you I’d show! Even if I would’ve only caught the last song,” you laughed as you hugged her back just as tight. “We still on for drinks after?”

“Fuck yes! Your tits look amazing in this top, we’re definitely getting free drinks out of it,” she beamed with a wink and you burst out laughing. “Okay, I’ve seen all of you on TV, but I still wanna officially meet everyone,” she smiled at everyone. “I’m Meg.”

As everyone went around introduced themselves, you made your way to the bar, to grab your signature Jack and Coke.

“Hell yes! You made it!” Meg’s finance, Paul, beamed as he made your drink.

“Why is everyone so shocked that I’m here?!”

“You haven’t been to a show in years!”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you muttered as you reached behind the bar and grabbed his pack of cigarettes.

“You bring the Avengers with you and you dare to steal from me?” he sneered sarcastically as he handed you your drink.

You laughed as you reached across the bar and kissed his cheek, “I’m sure our friendship will survive it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Dude, I had no idea the place would be so packed tonight.”

“I have a feeling everyone here had a long ass Friday.” “Yeah, well they better treat my baby right.” “You two!”

He rolled his eyes as he flipped you off, ��enjoy the show!”

“Thank you, Paaauuullll,” you sang out as everyone joined you.

You looked up to see Steve staring at you intently, and he quickly turned towards the stage when he realized he was caught. Before you could allow yourself to think on it or feel flattered, you heard your best friend yell from the stage as she started to make her guitar scream.

“We’re ‘Flowers of Cinnamon’, and thanks for spending your Friday night with us!”

From that moment on, you were barely paying attention to your surroundings. With the exception of your drink, you didn’t focus on anything other than your best friend rocking the fuck out. It had always just been a hobby for her, but she had always been so damn good at it. You envied how effortlessly performing came to her. The band was a cross between Paramore, The Bangles, and All Time Low, and they were just as amazing as you remembered. You wouldn’t have been able to stay still even if you’d wanted to. You sang and danced along to every song, bouncing around, and screaming your head off. You had no clue that Steve had been watching you with the biggest grin on his face, Bucky had been watching your chest bounce up and down, or that Tony had been recording your reaction to your best friend’s music, smiling so hard at your happiness.

Every other song, your best friend made eye contact with you and laughed, and nothing else seemed to matter. Thinking back on it, you wished it had, because maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so fucked up, but you were just so damn happy. The more drinks got, the more you danced and sang around, finally feeling comfortable and happy, even with your new set of friends watching you.

“Okay, this is gonna be our last song for the night,” Meg smiled into the microphone and she laughed at amount of “boos” they received. “Listen, I wanna get fucked up too!” she joked, gaining laughs from the crowd. “Okay, so tonight is extremely special because my best friend on the entire planet is here and brought her friends with her! Thanks babe! So, our last song is gonna be a cover of one of her favorite songs ever,” she winked at you as you cocked an eyebrow.

As soon as you heard the first cord of ‘Decoy’ by Paramore hum out of the speakers, you screamed so loud that everyone in your group (and Paul) started laughing.

‘Close your eyes and make believe that this is where you wanna be

Forgetting all the memories, try to forget love cause love’s forgotten me

Well hey, hey baby, it’s never too late

Pretty soon you won’t remember a thing

All I’ll be distant, the stars reminiscing

Your heart’s been wasted on me’

You sang along so effortlessly as you started to jump up and down.

‘You’ve never been so used as I’m using you, abusing you

My little decoy

Don’t look so blue, you should’ve seen right through

I’m using you, my little decoy

My little decoy’

You linked arms with Nat, who clearly didn’t know the song, but was more than happy to sing and dance along with you. You glanced around and it made you so happy to see everyone else happy and having a good time. It’s not like you were a stick in the mud at work but, you never let loose. Even when it came to holiday and birthday parties, you were pretty damn reserved. The only person who can claim that they’ve seen you fucked up is Steve, and even then it was just you being wine drunk on the sofa while you two listened to albums and discussed work.

No, this was you letting lose and everyone accepting it. Accepting you. You looked over at Steve and he a look of pure love and adoration in his eyes, and it made your heart swell.

God, you wished you would’ve paid more attention to the way both he and Bucky looked at you that night, but you were just so damn happy and having so much fun.

If you could turn back time...

“Am I still okay at singing?” Meg asked once she finally made her way over to all of you.

“Dude, you’re still fucking amazing!” you beamed as you wrapped her in a tight hug and she laughed. “That was so good! Thank you for playing ‘Decoy’, almost making me cry!”

“Aha!” she teased before she looked at everyone else. “What about Earth’s mightiest heroes? Were you all able to tolerate it?”

“That was amazing,” Tony laughed, Pepper nodding in agreement.

“Why don’t you do this full time?” Nat asked as you waived Paul down and got another drink for both you and Meg.

“If I did this full time, I’d be so stressed all the damn time,” Meg laughed, “I’m much happier painting.”

“What do you paint? Do you have a studio?” Clint inquired and a smile came to your face.

Things were going better than you could have ever imagined.

As everyone got acquainted, you snuck to have a smoke. A few moments later, a smile came to your face when you saw Steve come out after you.

“You said you’re quitting those,” he nodded towards the cigarette in your hand.

“I stole Paul’s,” you laughed, standing a little further from him so as to not get the smoke in his face.

“I can handle it,” he laughed as he placed his black leather jacket on you. “You’re pretty...exposed and I don’t want you getting cold.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest man?” you teased before you inhaled your cancer stick. “Who else knows about this? I’ll call the ‘New York Times’” He snickered as he shook his head, “quiet you.”

“Are you having fun tonight?”

“I am, I like you seeing like this.”

You scoffed, “crazy?” “Happy...content. Secure.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, and the look he gave you along with it, had butterflies appearing in your stomach.

“We should get back inside,” you smiled at up at him as you ashed the last of your cigarette and threw it in the nearby trash bin.

And maybe that’s when it started.

You just missed all the signs that night, because you were convinced Steve didn’t want you.

He convinced you he didn’t want you.

When the two of you got back inside, Paul had just finished up his shift and the guys had finished helping Meg back up her equipment which she had decided to lock up in the manager’s office for the night.

“Dancing! We need dancing!” she whined once her eyes landed on you.

“Hell yeah we do,” you laughed as you linked arms with both her and Nat.

Once again, you didn’t notice the way Bucky ogled you or the way Steve kept a close eye on you. When you all reached the next bar, you instantly ordered more drinks and pulled Nat and Meg onto the dance floor with you, still wearing Steve’s coat. He leaned against the bar, talking with Tony and Pepper, but still kept an eye on you. As Janet Jackson’s voiced filled the giant building, you danced around with the biggest smile on your face (at some point Meg had put her sunglasses on your face), smiling and waiving at Bucky when you saw his eyes glued to you.

Well, glues to your ass.

By the time everyone was ready to call it a night, you were drunk as shit.

“You’re not coming back to the compound?” Nat asked as she stumbled out after you.

“Nah, I wanna sleep in my own space tonight. It’s closer,” you giggled as you started giving out hugs.

“I can take you,” Bucky offered with a slick grin.

“I can take her, she’s on the way to my house,” Steve countered, and Meg cocked an eyebrow at you.

You just started dancing and walking.

“Goodnight everyone! Get home safe! I love you all!”

You were drunk, tired, and in no mood to figure out whatever that was about. You just wanted to go home and get in your bed. You honestly don’t know why you didn’t go back to the compound that night, but it just felt right to go to your own home. You already spent so little time there to begin with. A few moments later, you heard the hurried footsteps of someone behind you, but you kept looking ahead.

“You’re impatient when you’re drunk,” Steve laughed as he came up beside you.

A small smile came to your face at the fact that Steve was the one to walk you home.

You giggled as you leaned into him, “my feet hurt.”

No sooner than you said it, he scooped you up.

“Steve!”

“You weigh nothing, don’t worry about it, darlin.” “It’s a 30 minute walk!”

“I’m very well aware of where your apartment is.” “Steve-”

“Hush.”

You pouted but did as you were told, leaned into him, and took in the scent that was all his own. Something between woodsy and fresh cut grass. In your drunken state, he felt like home.

“Why didn’t you want Bucky to take me home?” you asked after a few moments, not missing the way he stiffened a bit.

“He’s a little buzzed and he gets a little handsy and flirty at times. I didn’t want him to bother you.” You giggled as you took in more of his scent, “you’re literally carrying me, Steve.” “You said your feet hurt.” “Are you a little buzzed?”

“I definitely don’t feel sober,” he chuckled softly and you softly sighed at the comfort of rumble in his chest.

“Do you wanna sleepover?”

“I’ll order a car service once I drop you off.”

“Why not order one now?”

“It was weird...everyone hanging out tonight. I feel like we haven’t hung out alone together in a while.” “Then why not sleepover?”

“Cause I should go home. I don’t wanna accidentally wake you up or something. You worked hard today and you need rest.” “So did you.” “Y/N.” “You’re so weird sometimes, Steve,” you huffed as you laced your hand with his.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand like I’ve done a million times before. What’s wrong?” “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, “alright weirdo.” “I’m not being weird.”

“You’re not being normal.”

He let out a frustrated huff, “did you have fun tonight?”

“So much fun, I’m so happy you came out.”

“I’ve missed you, darlin.” “I’ve missed you too. Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Sleepover.”

“Y/N-” “See? You are being weird. You’ve slept over my place a ton before, in my bed, and it wasn’t weird. What’s so different about tonight?”

He muttered, “so many things.” “Like what?”

“It’s just been a long night.”

“Fine, whatever. Go home, see if I give a fuck.” “Hey!”

“You’re being weird and you won’t tell me why. You know I hate when you do that shit.”

“I just think I should sleep in my own bed, darlin’. I’m not trying to be weird or make you upset.”

He sounded so strained and you couldn’t read his facial expression, so you couldn’t see how torn up he was. You couldn’t tell how much he was at war with himself.

You couldn’t tell how much he wanted you.

He chuckled when you didn’t say anything, “don’t get quiet on me now.”

“Can you at least stay until I fall asleep? It won’t take long.” “Everything okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah Steve, I just miss you,” you confessed softly.

“We’ll do a sleepover tomorrow, alright? We’ll have it at my house.” “Fine.” “Don’t be upset.” “I don’t care.” “You’re also a giant brat when you’re drunk.” “You’re saying that you miss me, but won’t spend time with me!”

God, you sounded like a brat to your own ears. That was a huge part as to why you’d never let him see you so inebriated. It’s why you never wanted anyone from The Avengers (or S.H.I.E.L.D for that matter) to see you so drunk. It became harder for you to suppress your feelings for Steve, and he’s all you wanted when you were drunk. For reasons unknown to you (at the time), Steve wanted to go home. That should’ve been enough, but your drunk wanted to hold him all night.

You were going out of your way to start an argument.

He let out a heavy sigh as he reached your complex, “I’ll stay-”

“Don’t do me any fucking favors-” “Will stop arguing with me? And stop with swearing, you know I hate it.” “Well maybe I hate you.”

He scoffed hard at that, “no you don’t.”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I do, so stop saying it. I’ll stay, okay?”

“And you’ll sleep next to me?”

“Yes darlin’, I will sleep next to you.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck and you felt his grip on you get tighter, “thank you, Steve!”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

That night, he was good to his word and slept next to you, letting use his chest as a pillow and you were asleep almost instantly. The next day, he was back to normal and you didn’t think anything of his behavior from the previous night. You had no reason to. However, from that day on, things did slowly start to change more.

It started with Bucky coming around more, especially when Steve was with you. You couldn’t sense it, because has always been entirely too good at hiding his emotions, but he slowly became frustrated. So much that he basically stopped coming around all together.

“Hey, are you busy?” you asked timidly as you approached his office one day.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” “Oh...okay then-”

“What’s wrong?”

“No, you’re busy and I don’t wanna take up your time...”

You could feel your eyes welling up and didn’t know why. Steve always had a way of making you so damn soft and vulnerable, and you truly hated it.

You still hate it.

“Darlin’-” “Please stop calling me that. The guy who started calling me that doesn’t seem to exist anymore. If he does, he’s making sure to stay away from me.”

“He still exists-” “Then what’s going on? Why are you staying away from me?”

He sighed as he threw down his pen, “nothing-”

“Alright, if you’re just gonna lie to me-” “I’m not lying!”

“Steve, you saw me walking with Bucky yesterday and literally turned in the other direction and walked away.” “You guys are just hanging out a lot now and I don’t wanna third wheel-” “You wouldn’t third wheeling! We’re just friends!”

“Y/N...” “Steve, why are you just abandoning me? You’re the one I’m closest to and you know that. You’ve always known that,” you sobbed as you closed the door behind you.

“Please don’t cry-” “Then why are you abandoning me?! What did I do wrong?!”

“Nothing-”

��Then what the fuck?! You’ve been acting so strange, but you’re saying I haven’t done anything! If I didn’t do anything, what the fuck is going on with you?!”

He let out another frustrated sigh and just stared at you, clearly at war with himself.

“Fuck this and fuck you, I give up,” you sobbed as you dried your eyes.

“Darlin’”

“Stop calling me that! I’m just Y/N and you’re just Steve. I can’t do this with you anymore!”

After you stormed out, things only got worse, because you’d never felt so low and alone in your life. Unless it had to do with a mission or training, you barely even looked his way. The farther you got away from Steve, the more Bucky swooped in. In fact, the more you look at how everything happened, you realize that things wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you’d just shut things down with the both of them.

However, it’s not as if thinking with a broken heart ever lead to a good thing.

You cried a lot and Bucky was just there for you. He was sweet, he listened, and let you keep your secrets. Sure, he asked what happened between you and Steve (everyone was), but he dropped it when you told him you wouldn’t be talking about it.

You can’t explain what you don’t know.

“Hey doll, we’re goin’ out tonight. You wanna come? Invite Meg!” Bucky asked one night after you let him in your apartment on the compound.

“Nah, I’ve got a hot date with a black and white French film and a few glasses of wine,” you smiled weakly.

“You can’t stay in here forever.”

“I don’t. Sometimes I go home.” “Babe-”

“I just wanna stay in, Buck,” you sighed as someone else knocked on your door. “I guess I’m just the most popular girl in the world.”

When you opened it the second time, Steve stood there looking just as upset as you felt. Instead of even trying to attempt to hear him out, a rage flared up inside you and you had to force yourself to not shove him. As far as you were concerned, he had a lot of fucking nerve to show up at your place after all the shit that happened in his office.

“What?”

“I wanted to know if you’re coming out tonight-”

“No.”

“Well, can I come in and we can talk? I know I owe you an explanation-”

“I don’t want an explanation anymore, Steve,” you lied harshly, “I just want you to leave me alone. I stood in your office and cried like a fucking dumbass...that was a month ago. Now you wanna talk? Just leave things as they are.”

You truly wish you hadn’t spoken out of anger because none of it was true. You cried over him whenever you were alone, you missed hanging out with him, you missed falling asleep next to him...you missed Steve. Your Steve.

You’ve always been a hot head.

“Darlin-” “What have I told you about that?” “Y/N, just give me a few minutes-”

“No, go away. Unless it has to do with work, we don’t have anything to talk about.” “You don’t mean that,” he more pleaded than told you.

“I’ve never meant it more!”

“Y/N-”

Bucky sighed as he came up behind you, “she just needs to cool off, Pal.”

If you hadn’t been so upset and hurt you would’ve laughed at how wide Steve’s eyes got.

“We’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“I thought you were coming out. It was your idea in the first damn place,” Steve snapped.

“I don’t wanna leave Y/N while she’s this upset. She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but all that happened was he clenched his jaw and looked away before he stormed off, punching the wall on his way out.

You should’ve spoken to him. You should’ve gone after him. Instead you pushed past Bucky and made yourself your first glass of wine of the night.

“Babe-”

“Buck, if you’re gonna stay here tonight, please no lectures. I just wanna be upset, okay?”

He just nodded solemnly, “I get it. No lectures, just drinks and weird French movies,” he smirked and you quietly laughed.

Here’s the thing: it’s not that you never found Bucky attractive, you just never thought about him. You were always thinking about Steve. However, at that time, thinking about Steve brought you too much pain and you didn’t want to feel anymore pain for a while. You just wanted to feel numb. You’d rather have nothing, the void, than hold onto the pain Steve’s brought on.

You rested your legs on him when he sat next to you, not thinking anything of it. When he started stroking your leg after the third glass of wine, you still didn’t think anything of it. You only started to pick up on his actions when he squeezed your thigh a little.

“Buck?”

“Yeah doll?” “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you relax and feel better.”

“Buck-”

“I’ve never seen you this upset, babe. I just wanna help.”

The thought and the offer were tempting. You couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten off to something other than your vibrator. Of course you’d made subtle advances towards Steve, but he’d clearly turned you down. Plus, the women around the compound did talk. While Bucky had a reputation for being a skirt chaser, he also had a reputation for wearing women out in the best way.

It’s not like you were looking for anything. You just wanted to forget for awhile.

He tested the waters a bit more by sliding his hand further up your leg, waiting to see how you’d respond.

You placed your wine glass on the ground and opened your legs for him a bit, “you just wanna make me feel better?”

“So fuckin’ good, doll,” he husked, as he reached between your legs and easily ripped your panties off, “just lay back and enjoy, baby.”

His movements were slow, but his kisses were desperate. It felt good, but off. Not to mention you felt more guilty with every kiss he gave you, like you were betraying Steve.

‘Fuck Steve,’ you told yourself mentally, ‘he had his chance and he clearly didn’t want it.’

You closed your eyes in a vain attempt to shut out any thoughts of Steve, but that only made his face come to mind. You let out a sound between a moan and a frustrated grunt as you pulled Bucky’s hair.

“Please!”

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he smirked, his hot breath lapped at your pussy.

“So fucking bad, please! Need it!”

“Love seeing you like this,” he cooed, before he dipped down and dove in and his lewd moans filled the room.

This was the moment Bucky became your “decoy”. You didn’t want him in the same way he wanted you, but part of you felt like he didn’t actually give a shit. Since he’d lost Nat to Bruce, Bucky wasn’t ever really looking for a relationship. He liked to play around, entertain a woman (or two) for a few months, then he’d move on. As far as you were concerned, that night was only supposed to be a one time thing.

“F-fuck!” you moaned, doing your best to be in the moment as you lulled your head back while he fucked you with his tongue and massaged your clit with his thumb. “Feels so good, Buck!”

You weren’t lying completely. It’s not as if Bucky was bad at eating you out, he just wasn’t the one you wanted doing it.

You felt him smirk against your folds, and started to grind your pussy against his face, forcing yourself to focus on all the pleasure you felt instead of everything else.

‘Steve doesn’t want you. Steve doesn’t want you. Stop thinking about Steve!’ you told yourself mentally.

When he switched up and started sucking on your clit, he easily pressed two fingers into your soaked folds. You felt the knot in your core tighten and snap.

“FUCK!” you cried out as you came hard and a few tears escaped your eyes.

You hated how the tears weren’t from pleasure, but you masked it well enough as he fucked you through your high.

“Take off that fuckin’ shirt, baby. Let me fuckin’ see you,” he husked as he took off his own shirt and started to undo his jeans.

You were quick to do as he said, taking all of him as you ignored how uncomfortable you felt being so bare beneath him as his mouth glistened with your juices.

You were doing this to feel better, so why weren’t you feeling any better?

“Waited so fuckin’ long, baby,” he groaned as he dipped down and worshiped each of your breasts while his thumb made little circles on your clit.

“Bucky!”

“I know baby, I’m gonna take care of you, gonna take such good care of you,” he moaned before you felt his tongue on the side of your neck, licking up little beads of sweat.

You took a deep breath and told yourself you wanted it as you felt him at your entrance. You wanted Bucky. You just needed to let yourself relax.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ tight!” he grunted as he pushed into you.

“Oh fuck!”

“I know you can take me, baby! Your wet little pussy is squeezing me so tight, baby!” “Please don’t stop,” you whimpered as you wrapped a leg around his waist, trying to hang on to him as he fucked into you hard and fast.

You wanted this. You agreed to this.

He pushed himself up with his metal arm and looked down at you adoringly, “wanted you for so long, doll. Waited for...ah fuck!”

To avoid feeling anymore guilt, you wrapped an arm around him to pull him close and kissed him passionately, moaning into his mouth when you felt him fill you to the brim. He rode out both your highs before he rested his forehead against yours.

“So good, baby. You tired?” he asked, breath still coming heavy.

You just closed your eyes and shook your head no.

“Good girl.”

Bucky kept at it for a while, not feeling any real pleasure until he brought you off (which you had to fake half the time). There was nothing wrong with him. You found him attractive, and you knew that he wanted you, but it just wasn’t what you wanted. All of it felt so hollow and emotionless on your end. You felt like you were acting and Bucky was working his ass off to please you; to make matters worse, your phone kept going off and you knew who it was.

Steve would’ve hated you if he knew what you were doing and who with, but a part of you felt like he already did. When you both were done, Bucky was a gentleman. He pulled your shirt over your head, carried you to bed, and held you close until you both fell asleep.

You didn’t cry until the next day when you woke up alone in an empty apartment. You ignored calls from both Bucky and Steve, and eventually Bucky was the only one texting you.

Something in you knew that Bucky had confirmed his suspicions, and you just knew he was furious. You and Steve both knew Bucky wasn’t a bad guy, he was just a player and Steve never wanted that for you.

Eventually you cracked and called Meg, and cried while you told her everything.

“Well...fuck,” she muttered once you finally got everything out. “Are you sure Steve knows?”

“His calls and texts were incessant until they weren’t. He hasn’t done either in the last 3 hours.”

“Oh yeah no, he definitely fucking knows. Bucky?”

“Bucky went from every 30 minutes to every other hour.”

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” “Nothing...”

“Except?”

“He’s not Steve.”

“Yeah, but Steve passed up on you, and he was kind of a dick about it. He waited a month until after the office situation? You’ve been showing him your available for how many years? I know you love him, but-”

“I don’t love him.”

“Yeah, cause that’s you’re crying to me about him instead of the skirt chaser that fucked your brains out?”

“Meg.”

“I’m not being insensitive, I’m being honest. Bucky was there last night, clearly wanted you, was with you all night, and all you could think about was Steve. Today, even though Bucky is still texting you, you’re more upset that Steve isn’t because you know he knows. If I were you, I’d be more worried about the guy that’s used to fucking around breaking my heart, than the guy who isn’t,” she sighed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Steve had his chance, I need to let him go. I’ve been in my room crying all day...I have to stop.”

“Can you?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Babe, if you could end up with Steve, I’d prefer that, but that’s not really an option. Even if he came back, he gave you the run around for a bit. Just focus on you for now and what you want. You always want to make others happy, and you need to focus on you.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Do you need me to come over?”

“No, being alone is good for me right now.”

“Alright, I love you, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay.”

You let out a heavy sigh as you sobbed, “I love you,” and hung up.

You ignored Bucky for the rest of the day, feeling guilty about it, but knowing it was for the best. You’d done enough wrong and you truly did need to focus on you and what you wanted.

However, before you fell asleep, you broke down and checked all your texts from Steve.

O Captain, My Captain: Darlin, please just talk to me. I’m so sorry.

O Captain, My Captain: I’m not going out tonight, please just answer me.

O Captain, My Captain: Don’t do anything with Bucky. He’s my best friend, but he’s not worthy of you. He won’t treat you right and you know that.

O Captain, My Captain: Please just answer me.

O Captain, My Captain: If I could take back my actions, I would. I’m so sorry. If you’d just talk to me, I’d be able to make you understand.

O Captain, My Captain: Please talk to me. I miss you so much.

O Captain, My Captain: I’m going to sleep, but give me a call whenever.

O Captain, My Captain: Seriously? All night and you’re still not talking to me?

O Captain, My Captain: Baby, please just talk to me. We’ve never gone this long without talking, and I fucking hate it.

O Captain, My Captain: Y/N...please.

O Captain, My Captain: Bucky just left. You’ve made yourself loud and clear, and fine. I got it.

O Captain, My Captain: Do whatever the fuck you want.

When you woke up the following day, you had the biggest headache from crying, and the last thing you felt like doing was facing either of them. You had a job to do though, and criminals didn’t stop being criminals just because you had a broken heart. Even though you were slower to dress than usual, you were still on time for training, and God, it was brutal.

Bucky kept looking at you, Steve wouldn’t even look your way, and you couldn’t focus. You’d never had a day so bad, and all you wanted was to crawl back into bed. During the meeting after, you just leaned against the wall, barely listening to anything Nick had to say. The one time you bothered to look up, you looked over at Steve and was glaring at you.

God, you really fucking hated yourself.

“Doll, wait up!” Bucky called after you once the meeting was over.

You’d practically run out of the room.

“Bucky, I really just want-”

“What did I do wrong?” he breathed once he caught up to you. “Everything seemed fine on Saturday, I thought we both enjoyed it.”

You didn’t miss the way Steve quietly scoffed as he walked past the both of you.

“Bucky, I just-”

“Did I hurt you? What...I really like you, Y/N. I have for a while and I just...was I too eager?”

You honestly hadn’t expected that.

“Wait...what?”

“I never said anything, because I thought you and Steve had a thing going, but that’s clearly not happening. You were just so upset on Saturday and I wanted to make you happy, and I’ve wanted you for so long...what did I do?”

Trash. You felt like absolute trash.

“I need to get to my room.” “Y/N-”

“Just...I’ll talk to you later, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I just have a lot going on in my head. I just need to be by myself for a while.”

“Please just-”

“I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m sorry.”

You can read the rest here.

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