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sageispunk · 4 months ago

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foolish (18+)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x black!reader

↳ "cause i can't seem to break away from your foolish love"

wordcount: 1.8k+

warnings: rpf 🫣, angst, infidelity, smut, bathroom sex, cunnilingus, fingering, mention of squirting, situationships, the word "bimbo" used derogatorily, asshole!Lewis in a sad boy way

A/N: wrote this off an edible and no sleep, slightly inspired by @ham1lton 's toxic Lewis AU drabble and my ongoing need for some good angst, hope u enjoy <3 || like, reblog + comment pls!! follow my notif page @sageispunklibrary to be notified when i upload new writings 🫶🏾

You always found yourself back here. Hiding away from everyone with your hands over your mouth as Lewis knelt between your thighs. His gracious tongue traced circles around your swollen clit before he sucked the bud into his mouth, becoming your own personal rose toy. The suction his pink lips provided had you squirming and shaking as you leaned against the bathroom counter. “Lew, please…”

His eyes fluttered shut as one of your hands grasped his braids in a failed attempt to pull him away from your core. You could feel him whine into your pussy in protest, his own hands strengthening their grasp on your hips. Your muffled cries echoed in the bathroom, and your mind wasn’t clear enough to take the hint to keep fucking still so you continued to thrash against his hold.

“Fuuucckkkk…” The whine left your mouth as you threw your head back, unable to keep your eyes focused on the beautiful man currently eating you like you were his last meal. Lewis suddenly released your clit from his mouth, landing a swift slap on your pussy which caused you to jump and yelp, bringing your attention back down to him. Before you could even get a word out, he began, “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” He left a soft kiss on your right inner thigh. “...and stop trying to run from me, y’know this pussy is mine.” You wanted to roll your eyes at the smirk growing on his face but those thoughts were erased from your mind as you watched him switch to your other thigh, kissing and biting your soft mahogany skin hard enough to leave a mark.

With a pout on your face, you decided not to be too bratty, keeping your focus on Lewis as he replaced his tongue on your pussy, alternating between flicking your clit and tongue-fucking your needy hole. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, biting down onto it a bit too hard just to keep from making too much noise, even with the music vibrating through the walls from the main floor underneath you two.

He watched you from below, in complete adoration at the dewy, sensual, flustered look on your face. Although he was never one to brag, Lewis was very aware of how talented he was in the bedroom, especially with you. Having been off and on for several years, and best friends for years before that, there was almost nothing that he didn’t know about you, including how to pleasure you. He knew which pattern to trace with his tongue to make you cum the hardest, he knew how many fingers it took to make you squirt three feet across the room, and he also knew the exact angle to fuck you in just to get you creaming around his dick in under a minute.

Something Lewis didn’t know was the fact that his current “girlfriend” was currently walking down the long hallway in search of him, considering he’s been missing from the party for a good fifteen minutes or so already. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, after having not seen you for months–since he began dating this new girl. She was just a distraction, truly…both of you were tired of the back and forth, and after the last time you ended things with him, he didn’t know what to do with himself besides busy himself with work and whatever new bimbo he got a hold of. Now, he was craving you, and you were craving him, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he whisked you away upstairs, cockily smiling at the fact that you followed him away from the crowd. Like old times.

He removed his mouth from your throbbing cunt once more, this time bringing his middle and ring fingers up to his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him soak his tattooed fingers with a mixture of his saliva and your pussy juices, leaving them slick and shiny before placing them onto your lower lips. Your hips circled lazily, craving him inside of you, whether it be his fingers, his dick, or even his tongue again.

“What d’ya need, baby? Hm?”

His fingers slowly and softly trailed a figure eight pattern over your pussy lips, careful not to make contact with your ever needy clit. Without halting his teasing, Lewis slowly came to a stand, caging you in on the counter. The lack of space between your faces had your heart rate increasing, all of your air seemingly getting sucked out of the room as you felt the strong urge to kiss and hold and love the man in front of you. His brown eyes captivated you, wiping from your mind all the reasons that you should not be here right now.

Your right hand flew up to his face, caressing his left cheek with a gentleness that he’d been missing for far too long. He leaned in more, not stopping until your foreheads were mushed together, both of you breathy and surrounded by an air of tension. “Tell me what you need.” Whispered this time, his words sent a shiver down your spine, your body subconsciously jolting up and being reminded of his soaked digits right outside of where you needed him the most.

“Please fuck me, Lewis, I need to feel you–” A loud gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of Lewis suddenly plunging his long fingers deep into your core. He was through taking his time, an urgent need to see and feel you quivering around him overwhelming his mind. His dick throbbed in his pants, tightly straining against the fabric of his expensive briefs. The gushing sounds emanating from his movements in and out of your pussy had the both of you swooning, you creeping up to your peak already. He kept up the pace, notching his fingers at the perfect angle to get you right where he wanted you, falling apart for him on this countertop.

Lewis used his free hand to pull you in by the back of your head, allowing your lips to mash together with a frenzied passion. He stole each moan and whimper straight from your mouth with his own tongue as you came on his fingers, your core tight and legs trembling. All you could focus on was the softness of his lips against yours and his fingers slowing down inside you, everything fitting together nearly perfectly.

Knock knock knock! “Lewis are you in there?!”

Both of your eyes widened at the voice right outside the door, bodies frozen as you came to a sobering realization of what you were doing. Fooling around with a taken man, a man who happened to be your ex? Your ex-situationship? Ex-something, but that didn’t matter as much as the fact that he had a whole girlfriend now.

She knocked again a second later, and Lewis returned his gaze to you, silently urging you to say something, whilst his fingers remained inside you. You sighed, closing your eyes and shouting through the door, “He’s not in here, I think I saw him heading out back earlier though!”

“That’s the first place I looked… but okay, he’s probably around here somewhere.” You stayed put where you were until you heard her further down the hall, checking other rooms for him.

Lewis let out a sigh of relief. “That was close..” He leaned back in to resume your previous activities before you turned away, obviously unsettled by the close call and reality check. “Baby…” His eyes softened as he pulled his drenched fingers out of you.

“Don’t–don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, you have a girlfriend Lewis! What in the actual fuck are we doing here?!” You whisper-yelled, all the frustration of your current situation and the entire context of your relationship with Lewis all of a sudden hitting you like a freight train. You avoided his eyes as you hopped off the counter, looking around for your handbag and phone. Both were dropped on the floor in a frenzy and you’d only hoped that your screen wasn’t cracked.

“C’mon, d’you really think she means more to me than you do? Really?” He stepped back and watched you attempt to gather yourself, eyes focused hard on your face as if he was trying to read through your now hardened demeanor.

“I don’t fucking know, you what, made her your official girlfriend after fucking her for two weeks, but I–who you claim to care about sooo much–couldn’t even get a proper label after TWO YEARS of loving and caring for you?? I don’t know Lewis, what does that look like to you?”

You were hurt, still hurt over no longer being with him the same way you’d been for so long, and this little meeting of yours didn’t do much to help with those feelings. Your eyes met finally and you could read the hurt written across his face as well, but as soon as you saw it, it disappeared even quicker, replaced with his usual cocky, unbothered expression.

“Y’know what? You’re right, I shouldn’t have even brought you in here, it was a mistake…” His words sent a pang of sadness through your chest, and even more so the way he was just ready to let you go. Again.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, checking yourself one last time in the mirror above the sink. “You’re an asshole, Hamilton.” You turned and he silently stepped to the side, allowing you to make your way out of the small bathroom. “Have a nice life.” Your heels clicked down the hall, the direction opposite than where his girlfriend went. You held back your tears for as long as you could, managing a quick Irish exit from the loud and crowded party before they finally fell, clouding your vision as you typed away on your phone to request a ride home.

In the five minutes it took for the car to arrive, you allowed your brain to give you a slideshow on every reason you and Lewis wouldn’t work out, from your busy schedules and constant butting heads, in addition to his avoidance of claiming you as his own. You finally decided on hitting that precious block button on every app you could find on your phone, your method of ceasing all contact with him, a way to prevent you from experiencing this pain all over again.

On the other hand, Lewis remained in the bathroom for a few moments, not knowing exactly how to proceed from here. He knew that messing with you while in his current predicament wouldn’t necessarily score him any points with you, but he couldn’t help the natural gravitation that pulled you two together every time you were in each others’ presence. His goal definitely wasn’t to hurt you more than he already has, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the only way to make sure you wouldn’t come back, to ensure your peace and happiness, even if it meant he’d never see you again.

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

#my writing #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #black!reader #black reader #lh44 #lh44 x reader #lh44 fic #lh44 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #sageispunk

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bad-tf-fic-ideas · 9 days ago

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(384) A fic in which Optimus Prime discovers that RPF extends to political figures. He is alerted to this fact when Bumblebee sends him a link to the US-LOLitics forum, where a lengthy MegOp fic has just gone viral.

Optimus Prime takes quite a lot of time to parse the text because of all the awkwardly human assumptions within it — he barely understands some of the dirtier jokes even after he figures out why they're meant to be funny.

In the end, he hesitantly decides that he ought to be flattered by this highly pornographic depiction, especially when compared to some of the works of fiction that feature human politicians... However, he has strong doubts that Megatron will feel similarly flattered by his own portrayal. For a while Optimus Prime holds out some hope that his ancient friend and current enemy hasn't actually seen the work.

But when he sees that the first comment in the enormous comments section is from Decepticon Commander Starscream, Optimus Prime realises he must now roll out and mount a rescue of a foolish RPF writer who thinks — apparently — that his spike is at least as big as his arm, and that Megatron cries when he overloads...

#tf fic ideas #maccadam #megatron #optimus prime #starscream #what. whaaat.

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icallhimjoey · 9 months ago

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Explain Us

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: So, more than flatmates... but, what exactly? Would be fantastic if you would just, you know, talk about it. But communicating is not your strong suit and you're extremely certain that it's fine. Confusing and vague, but, fine.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, a continuation of define close, no need to read it to enjoy this, though it will help!, language

Author’s note: yea joe fucked up. not talking is fixing exactly nothing between the two of you. but we can be adults about this, can't we? (we can't)

Wordcount: 4.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

You’d held on extra tight all night.

Squeezed with your fingers, your arms all tense, because what if Joe wasn’t joking and this was the last time you’d get him all to yourself like this? There was this shared invisible way of being that you’d created together which you had always pretended was just normal flatmate behaviour.

It wasn’t.

Of course it fucking wasn’t. And now that Joe had casually said he was moving, your brain seemed to have shut down.

Just touch. Keep touching.

What would you even be to each other if not flatmates? If forced proximity wasn’t working in your favour anymore?

Just friends?

You had to swallow down bile at the mere suggestion of being just friends with Joe.

Flatmates was such a safe way to describe each other.

It just meant, yea, we live in the same space. We share our comfort zone. We see each other a lot and are kind of like family a little, just because of that.

People never asked questions.

There was no need to explain how well you knew each other. How much time you spent together. People would hear 'flatmate' and would assume.

They would assume wrong, because there definitely was more there. But it wasn’t weird when they witnessed you laughing at inside jokes together. Or if they heard you ripping each other to shit until you ended up in a weird wrestle that didn’t stop until someone knocked an elbow to a table top too hard. Or if they heard you casually talk to Joe through a door whilst he was sat on the toilet without acknowledging that he was, you know, actively sat on the toilet.

The term flatmate was safe.

But it was also scary.

Because how many of the other flatmates you’d ever had did you still speak to?

Precisely none.

Not that you’d had many previous flatmates. But still. You didn’t speak with any of those people anymore. They were now merely vague acquaintances that held a spot on your Facebook friend list, which was utterly meaningless, because who even still used Facebook these days?

They’d been chapters in your life that you’d so easily moved on from.

People who, if you’d see them down an isle in a shop, you’d avoid them at all costs and pretend you hadn’t seen them.

You’d never even fully considered that Joe would also one day turn into a chapter of your life that you’d have to avoid in a supermarket and wasn’t that just the most fucked up stupid thing you’d ever even heard?

You knew you were avoidant.

Didn’t really dabble in foolish shit like confrontation.

So it made sense that you weren’t exactly doing so great now that you were being confronted with how avoidant you actually were.

Joe said he was going to move out.

The pile of clothes outside of his wardrobe suddenly made sense.

Had he not said anything before? Had you just not paid attention? Not registered what you didn’t feel like registering? Was your brain working against you with that much conviction?

Felt wild.

But it took you maybe five seconds to decide that you were not going to freak out.

You could be totally cool about this.

Have a night of cuddled up sleep like Joe hadn’t just said he was going to leave you after you’d properly fucked for the first time and, if you wanted to freak out later, you could do that by yourself in a locked bathroom with the shower running after he’d moved out.

So you tried to sleep.

Couldn’t. Because your mind kept going.

But you tried.

Tried relaxing every time you noticed that your fingers were digging into his flesh.

Couldn’t.

But you tried.

And Joe’d just fallen asleep like he hadn’t just dropped a huge bomb into his bed. Like everything wasn’t suddenly shattering all around you. Wasn’t all falling apart. Wasn’t forcing you to slip on your armor, your mask, your disguise. The one you’d wear when you and Joe were around others. Where you pretended to be normal and helpful and friendly and not touching and kissing and essentially licking each other all over.

You’d have to wear the disguise for Joe.

What a disgusting turn of events.

Could you blame him? Yes.

Were you going to? No.

You could be the cool girl. Keep Joe around. Not scare him off with questions like, “How long have you known about this?” and, “Is this legally even allowed?” and, “What the fuck do you even think you’re doing?”. Questions that definitely all needed answers, but you weren’t going to ask them.

You’d learn the answers along the way, you were sure.

Cool girl.

Come dawn, you had managed to stuff your own emotions down somewhere deep. Hoped they’d stay down there until you decided they could bubble back up.

You also hoped that where your cheekbone pressed into his hair would somehow leave a bruise there. On both of you. So he could feel and see how fucked up this was.

Joe’s alarm went, and you swallowed all feelings even further down.

Closed your eyes and felt Joe stir.

Felt him remove the arm that had stayed in place around your waist to turn the alarm off.

Heard him groan and move back to snuggle up close again, and for a minute, you decided to fully just enjoy it for what it was. Closeness with the guy you liked.

Fuck.

The guy you liked.

You let a hand snake into his hair as you felt him burrow back into your neck. Classic five-more-minutes move. When you softly scratched at his scalp, Joe moaned.

All drawn out.

All sleepy.

“Gon’ make me drool,” he croaked, voice hoarse and low. “Fall back asleep.”

You could burst at the seams with how much you wanted that.

Tightening up a leg around his, you used your other hand to lightly stroke fingers up and down his back and felt how Joe sank deeper.

Was this not the nicest thing ever?

Was Joe not going to fucking miss this?

Why the fuck was he going to move?

Joe allowed himself your touches for a few more minutes before a forced deep inhale pulled him from your grasp on him. It was still dark outside, and when Joe disappeared for a morning shower, you contemplated your next move.

Go to your own bed, fall back asleep, and then hopefully sleep through the whole day?

Or go wash your face, do your make-up, and get ready for the day?

Or have breakfast now, and disappear into your bathroom when Joe would have his?

Yea.

That seemed smart.

Breakfast now and then get ready for the day when Joe would come in to have his.

You got out of Joe’s bed, let your eye fall on the big pile of clothes and decided that, in some weird sort of passive-aggressive-possessive way of feeling, that you deserved one of his hoodies.

That you could wear that today.

Make him see something.

You didn’t fully know what, exactly, but it felt right.

You fished one out, not even one that sort of looked like one of yours, and took it.

Get fucked, Joe.

You only just finished a bowl of granola when Joe stepped into the kitchen, his phone and a balled up pair of socks in hand.

“Movers should be here soon,” he checked the time on his phone, tried to make conversation maybe, but you didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to talk about it.

You watched him hike one knee up to put a sock on, balancing unsteadily on one leg, and then as you walked past him to leave the room, you couldn’t help but let a hand slide across his back.

Last time you got to do that? Maybe.

Shit.

About 10 minutes later the doorbell went and you checked out the window to see a large moving van waiting outside.

When you moved house, you did that by forcing your friends and family to come haul cardboard boxes for you, and you’d thank them by having cheap beers in your new place that didn’t have any unpacked furniture yet.

Not Joe.

Joe got a company to come do all the work for him.

Three men brought in stacked up big industrial strength plastic moving bins and big rolls of plastic sheeting and... it was actually real.

Joe was moving out.

You didn’t even know where to. You could guess. But you didn’t know anything.

You hid in your bedroom for most of it. Made tea with your back turned to all the chaos at one point, but truly didn’t involve yourself in any of the chaos.

From your bedroom you heard Joe pointing out what needed packing. What didn’t need packing. What needed extra care.

It didn’t take all that long. Just as well. Joe was paying these people.

You listened to Joe tell one of them that someone was at the other address, so they were good to head over. Said he’d meet them there later.

The front door shut, and you stared at your bedroom door for a moment. Tried to imagine what Joe’s bedroom looked like now, all empty. And the living room, now without the big cabinet Joe kept old DVDs in that he never watched but didn’t want to get rid of, because teenage-him had begun a collection, and these were the best films.

You kind of didn’t want to see it. The new emptiness.

But then a soft knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yea?” So casual. So laid-back.

Slowly, your door opened, and Joe got to see how you sat on the edge of your bed, heels on the frame, knees to your chest, wearing his hoodie.

Joe leant in the doorframe, head tilted to the side, hands in his pockets, and he looked at you like he felt sorry a little. Apologetic in the worst way. You kind of hated it, but you didn’t want to let him see.

Cool girl.

“Wanna come see the new place?” he asked it like he really hoped you’d say yes but fully expected you to say no.

Which was exactly why you were not going to say no.

“Sure.” you shrugged.

“Yea?”

You got up and grabbed your phone, took it off its charger and pretended to check something, mostly to avoid eye-contact and seem all casual as you said, “Yea, why not. I can help you unpack. Don’t have anything better to do.”

Joe didn’t move aside when you stepped closer, and when you looked up, you were met by his little smile, tongue pushed into his cheek whilst his eyes scanned you up and down a second.

Be cool.

You didn’t know if you wanted Joe to say anything about the hoodie you were wearing.

“Or not, if you don’t want my help?” you shrugged again, face blank, and Joe fucking saw right through you.

He chuckled to himself as he removed his hands from his pockets to grab hold of you by the fabric draped over your shoulders, and he pulled you in for a hug.

One that you didn’t return.

“Don’t have to help,” Joe muttered as he squeezed you tight and, yea okay. So, you didn’t get your arms involved, but you could definitely rub your face into his chest a second.

Feel his strong embrace and close your eyes a second.

Smell him a second.

“Won’t put you to work, just want you to come see.”

Cool girl.

Just friends now.

Future acquaintances.

Strangers, eventually.

Joe hugged you even tighter until it became so tight it was funny.

“Fine.” you sarcastically complained, voice all constricted because Joe wasn’t letting up. “Won’t lift a finger.”

You avoided looking at the empty spaces in your flat that used to hold Joe’s things and then left the flat together.

On your way to Joe’s new place you walked side by side and you kept your eyes on the pavement for most of it. Kept your arms crossed over your front. Made sure you were extra spatially aware, because Joe had said that you always bumped into him when you walked together, and you were ready to prove him wrong, prove that you were actually an excellent walking-partner.

Like that was something that was on Joe’s mind right now.

Like he wasn’t in the middle of moving house.

And then, Joe talked.

And you just listened. Nodded along. Went, “Oh, all right.” and, “That’s cool.” and, “Mhmm.” a bunch.

There were several months left on the lease, and Joe offhandedly said it was taken care off, that you didn’t need to worry, like it wasn’t a huge sum of money he was talking about.

Said it would give you some time and space to find someone else, a new flatmate, no rush.

Said his new flat was really nice, and Joe said that like your flat wasn’t.

Said his new flat was in a really nice area. Like your flat wasn’t.

It was.

But, you understood that this one was likely nicer.

You didn’t comment or ask any questions. It just was what it was and you were going to have to deal with the reality of the situation whether you wanted to or not.

No point in pushing anything.

Best to just go with the flow.

You weren’t enjoying the flow, but you were definitely letting it float you downstream.

Joe’s dad was over at his new place now, and halfway there, Joe got a call from him. The movers had arrived, and was there a way to prop the front door open, did Joe know?

Joe didn’t know, but he said he’d be there soon.

Said he was bringing an extra pair of hands and looked at you as he said it. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, and Joe quickly said, eyes.

He was bringing an extra pair of eyes.

However, you were absolutely going to be helping, you knew. Roll up your sleeves and do some heavy lifting, if only to keep yourself busy. And you’d be silly about it, rolling eyes and sighing loudly, all heavy with pretend annoyance, sarcastically exclaim “I thought I was meant to just come over and get a tour?” and then his dad would make fun of Joe for being less of a help than you, and Joe would scoff loudly and stumble through excuses, and then you would flex an unimpressive bicep, and you’d all laugh.

Nothing was going to be a problem unless you made it one.

And then it sort of went like you had predicted.

You walked past the moving van, ended up helping getting furniture into the lift, and the first thing his dad saw of you was your back as he held a door open so you and Joe could carry a cabinet inside.

Then, quickly, before his dad could launch a million questions at him, Joe invited you on a grand tour of the place. Made his dad smile as he listened to his son saying stupid things like, “This is the living room that won’t have a sofa for at least six more weeks because apparently delivering sofas takes for fucking ever...” and, “Here we have a lovely view of, just... other flats, no, don’t actually look, it’s not a nice view, but it’s fine, I didn’t buy the place for the view, looking outside is overrated...” and, “Instead, be impressed with the size of the kitchen, and ignore the mystery drawer that we’ve not been able to open yet.”

Idiot.

Fuck.

Joe was really moving into his own flat. One roughly the same size as yours. Not even that much nicer, you thought, as he showed you ‘round.

But it was all his, and he seemed proud and embarrassed about it, which was devastatingly cute.

You were obviously going to kind about it. Be all impressed. Be a good friend. Postpone the supermarket-avoiding by actually being friendly.

“This is so nice!” you said after you’d gotten to see all rooms. His bed had been taken apart and movers had just placed the pieces of it in a stack alongside one of his bedroom walls, mattress wrapped in plastic stood upright next to it.

Felt stupid, because that wasn’t your bed, but... that was kind of your bed.

“Yea, you think? Not too flashy?”

It wasn’t flashy at all. The bathrooms didn’t look like they’d been redone since 2004, maybe.

“Just that you were able to buy it,” you joked, but weren’t wrong. Buying property in this area of London was absolutely the most ostentatious thing Joe’d ever done. “Everything else? Shockingly normal. There’s Ikea flatpacks in the hallway for fuck’s sake!”

Joe laughed, which in turn made you laugh, and fuck off, you were sort of killing this cool girl thing.

Made Joe laugh when in all honesty you didn’t think he was allowed to feel all joyful right now.

Well, he did.

This was a big deal.

And it wasn’t like you were going to be flatmates forever, were you?

People moved on. People found new phases of life. Next steps. Onto bigger and better things.

In Joe’s laughter, he bent. Leant back with his eyes squeezed shut, reached a hand out to balance himself and it was fine when he just grabbed your arm. You had your arms crossed over your chest, protective and closed off, so a hand gripping a bicep just to keep a body from falling over was fine. You were laughing too, it was fine.

But then Joe used his grip to pull you closer and slung his other arm over your shoulder, and with your arms still folded, Joe pulled you right into him as he hugged you.

You accepted it, but you didn’t.

Wanted to unfold your arms and make your fronts touch, but you didn’t.

Wanted to violently push him away and scream and cry because why hadn’t he fucking said anything.

But you didn’t.

Instead of all those things, you just tensed up in Joe’s hold. Locked your shoulders and bit at the inside of your lip and prayed Joe wouldn’t notice.

Joe immediately noticed.

Without letting go, Joe moved his head back just far enough to get a look at your face. He could easily detect the upset. Could easily see how exhausted you were. Joe saw the anger, the frustration, the sadness all covered in a light sheen of fatigue. And Joe also witnessed from up close how you were working really hard to hide all of that.

Like you could ever hide shit from him.

Like Joe wasn’t fucking trained to snuff it out on you.

Like he hadn’t felt you grasp onto him for dear life all night. Like he hadn’t seen the hunched up shoulders. Like your arms hadn’t been protectively crossed, literally hugging yourself, since you’d left your flat.

And he’d been waiting.

Always waited.

You always took the lead on everything. Steered this ship over dark seas with waves so high, Joe couldn’t see past them until whatever new thing you’d introduced into your friendship became normal and routine. It was safer that way. Have you call the shots.

But he understood waiting had been the wrong move here, and it was already too late when he realised he should’ve said something so much sooner. He just hadn’t wanted to have that awkward conversation. You never talked. But he should have. He knew he should have.

And now seemed as good a time as any to still try his hand at it.

“Hey,” Joe soft said, and gave you a little shake.

You took it as a way of Joe trying to cheer you up and get you to smile.

So you did.

Just smiled.

“No, don’t– you can be honest,” Joe pulled away a little more, getting a better look at you. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

An invitation to yell at him.

But your smile only grew, and for a moment, Joe almost believed it was real.

“Well, I’m thinking...” you said it in a humorous way, and stopped the moment before it could even become sincere.

Joe gave it one more try, though.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how I–...”

“I think that wall needs a splash of colour. Bit of paint.”

You didn’t want to talk about it.

You and Joe never talked.

Not talking felt important now.

You needed the not-talking now more than ever and Joe couldn’t taint what you barely even had right now with talking. You were trying so hard, and having him try to suddenly talk seemed so unfair.

So you looked past him, looked at one of his bedroom walls and changed the course of conversation to safer waters.

You felt how Joe’s eyes scanned your face a second. Saw him give in. Felt like he owed it to you to let you call the shots, because he’d made the mistake of not saying anything.

Joe turned around and looked at the same wall for a second before he turned his head to squint at you, countering lightly, “Do I really need to?”

You squinted right back, “I don’t think you really want my honest opinion.”

You knew Joe was going to keep all his walls white. Keep it safe. Keep it boring.

“But you know what would look really nice? Big palm in that corner.”

You tried to keep the mood fun and playful and hoped you could make him laugh again. Which, he did. Joe did laugh. But only for a second, because, “Oh! That reminds me!” and without explaining what reminded him of what, he walked out.

You hesitated to follow, unsure if you wanted to continue this weird interaction with other people present. The hesitation was only short, because it only took a few seconds for Joe to jog back down the hallway and–

Your stomach dropped.

No.

The small crispy wave plant.

What?

Joe proudly raised the little pot he was holding in his hand and walked it over to place it in the window. Then he stepped back and admired it and–

No.

That was– no but, that was yours now. That had gotten moved into your bedroom and, yea, all right, you kept calling it Joe’s plant, but he was the one that kept correcting that it was in your bedroom.

When had he even taken that?

Had he just gone in and grabbed it in those three minutes you’d gone to make tea?

What the actual fuck?

Then Joe turned to look at you, smiled and said, “It's a start?” as he shrugged one shoulder and, no. It fucking wasn’t. That couldn’t be a start. That plant didn’t belong in here.

And neither did his bed, all taken apart.

Neither did he.

All of this was yours, everything inside of this room belonged to you, and if you had arms big enough you’d grab everything and haul it right back, what the fuck was he even thinking?

But then, “Joe?” his dad called him to the living room. Movers had questions. With a final squeeze of a shoulder, you were left in Joe’s new bedroom by yourself.

With his disassembled bed.

Wrapped up mattress.

And that stupid plant.

Which, not yours, apparently.

But you know what?

If not yours, then also not his.

You stepped closer. Touched a leaf with a careful hand. It really was a nice little plant. So vibrantly green. You knew Joe was so pleased with the pot he’d chosen. It was nothing special, but he’d mentioned it a little too often to know he wasn’t being normal about it.

But if not yours, then also not his.

Like a cat, you pressed a finger to the side and slowly pushed it. Made it slide across. Watched as the sun danced over the wavy leaves until it just... slipped off.

Just like that.

Crashed to the floor.

Potting soil spilled.

Plant pot cracked right down the center.

Good.

If not yours, then also not his.

You left right after that. Walked straight out. Ignored Joe as he called after you and took the stairs instead of the lift. Were quick, moved your legs as fast as they could go without turning it into a run.

A deep frown stayed etched into your forehead until you got home, where you angrily shook your coat off like your coat was the one that told you it was moving less than eight hours before the movers showed up.

Where you then also angrily pulled off Joe’s hoodie because fuck him.

Where you rushed into your bedroom and let yourself drop down onto the bed face first.

Where you let yourself cry in heaving sobs.

Where you heard your phone ring and pushed it off the bed when you saw it was Joe trying to reach you.

Where you finally looked up to look at your window.

And saw Joe’s stupid little plant there.

Unmoved.

Uncracked pot. Soil still inside. Leaves soaking up the sunlight.

And–

Fuck.

So much for being a cool girl.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us

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antimony-medusa · 10 months ago

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Actually I'm gonna make this its own post. I pulled top ten lists off of Ao3!

Note that Ao3 Numbers will broadly reflect twitter and tumblr english-language fandom, but only part of instagram, tiktok and pinterest fandom. Ao3 is also only broadly depicting the English-language fandom, as Spanish, French, and Portuguese fics are generally hosted on their own sites.

Characters:

Phil Watson | Philza (2357 works)

Rafael Lange | Cellbit (2306 works)

Roier (Video Blogging RPF) (2071 works)

Wilbur Soot (1610 works)

Alexis | Quackity (1583 works)

Tallulah (QSMP) (1574 works)

Darryl Noveschosch | BadBoyHalo (1320 works)

Noah Brown | Foolish Gamers (1310 works)

Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle (1273 works)

Chayanne (QSMP) (1186 works)

The numbers with DSMP excluded to get rid of cross-tagged fics are:

Rafael Lange | Cellbit (2231 works)

Phil Watson | Philza (1999 works)

Roier (Video Blogging RPF) (1997 works)

Tallulah (QSMP) (1333 works)

Alexis | Quackity (1261 works)

Darryl Noveschosch | BadBoyHalo (1229 works)

Noah Brown | Foolish Gamers (1225 works)

Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle (1176 works)

Wilbur Soot (1128 works)

Francisco Miguel | ForeverPlayer (1082 works)

FitMC (1039 works)

Platonic Relationships:

Wilbur Soot & Tallulah (QSMP) (615 works)

Jaiden Animations & Roier (274 works)

Chayanne (QSMP) & Phil Watson | Philza (265 works)

Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot (257 works)

Chayanne & Tallulah (QSMP) (247 works)

Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson | Philza (240 works)

Chayanne & Tallulah (QSMP) & Phil Watson | Philza (211 works)

Tallulah (QSMP) & Phil Watson | Philza (196 works)

Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle & JuanaFlippa (QSMP 166 works)

Chayanne (QSMP) & Wilbur Soot & Tallulah (QSMP) & Phil Watson | Philza (120 works)

Romantic Relationships:

Rafael Lange | Cellbit/Roier (1254 works)

Noah Brown | Foolish Gamers/Samuel de Luque | Vegetta777 (566 works)

Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle/Osvaldo Palacio Flores | ElMariana (549 works)

Alexis | Quackity/Wilbur Soot (544 works)

FitMC/Tarik Pacanhan | Pactw (422 works)

Ángel Missael Castañeda Vega | MissaSinfonia/Phil Watson | Philza (299 works)

Francisco Miguel | ForeverPlayer/Darryl Noveschosch | BadBoyHalo (191 works)

Iván Buhajeruk | Spreen/Roier (168 works)

Francisco Miguel | ForeverPlayer/Phil Watson | Philza (165 works)

Gabi Cattuzzo | Bagi/Tina | TinaKitten (140 works)

Romantic Relationships with ForeverPlayer Excluded:

Rafael Lange | Cellbit/Roier (1254 works)

Noah Brown | Foolish Gamers/Samuel de Luque | Vegetta777 (566 works)

Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle/Osvaldo Palacio Flores | ElMariana (549 works)

Alexis | Quackity/Wilbur Soot (544 works)

FitMC/Tarik Pacanhan | Pactw (422 works)

Ángel Missael Castañeda Vega | MissaSinfonia/Phil Watson | Philza (299 works)

Iván Buhajeruk | Spreen/Roier (168 works)

Gabi Cattuzzo | Bagi/Tina | TinaKitten (140 works)

Fred (QSMP)/Toby Smith | Tubbo (109 works)

Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle/Rayenne Guendil | Etoiles (92 works)

#QSMP #qsmpblr #philza #cellbit #Simply excluding tags did not give accurate numbers because of cross-tagged works #like for example there are a high variety of parrotduo works that are also tagged with spiderbit #So I went into all of those tags individually #mcyt on Ao3

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anon-402 · 9 months ago

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Para los pocos hispanos fans del Pissa que andan por aqui, ahi les va un WIP de un fic que ando haciendo:

Dear Dopamine

Tags: No RPF, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Awkward Flirting, Humor, Dialogue Heavy, Dirty Jokes, Letters

La vida de Philza era el tipo de comedia romántica barata que los críticos bombardearían con bajos ratings bajo el pretexto de ‘sobre-esforzarse’ y ser ‘demasiado cínica’. Es el mimos tipo de comedia que sería vendida como un romance pero era todo menos eso, e incluso cuando lo intentaba ser, el protagonista siempre era reacio con sus sentimientos; vacilando entre caminar esta línea firme de rechazo perpetuo y aceptación ambigua, y odiosamente ocasionando en más de un espectador confusión.

Lamentablemente para Philza, esa no era la única paralela existente que se podía inferir entre su vida y los romances de bajo presupuesto, pues había notado que las personas en su vecindad parecían moverse más en números pares estos últimos días. Claro, aun con las miradas calurosas y caricias asquerosamente cursis que otros intercambiaban en público, esto no presentaría un problema sino fuera porque también tenían un deseo descomunal en entrometerse en su vida personal.

Algunos optarían por señalar que la razón detrás de sus intromisiones eran bien intencionadas y se debía al hecho de que irónicamente, aun teniendo un esposo encantador que lo amaba y precedentes de varios otros pretendientes, el hombre no reconocería el amor aunque le golpeara directo en las bolas. Pero por supuesto, al no tener el concepto universal de la afinidad en un pequeño recipiente físico capaz de golpearlo, con Foolish bastaría.

Fue una suerte para él el seguir durmiendo en el templo de Rose mientras Foolish merodeaba por el centro de la ciudad. Después de todo, ¿Qué era mejor que dejarle el destino de tus relaciones interpersonales a un policía?

Si Philza tuviera la conciencia para contestar probablemente diría que cualquier otra cosa. Sin embargo, con la situación actual, fue inconscientemente forzado a otorgarle control sobre la escena del crimen que se estaba produciendo en la cima de la muralla. Los instintos policiacos de Foolish captaron en seguida al hombre encapuchado de negro que se escabulló en el elevador que llevaba a la casa de Philza, y Foolish no dudó en usar su gancho para subir y enfrentarlo.

“¡Alto ahí!” Gritó detrás del hombre que le daba la espalda, arma en mano apuntando su cabeza.

Foolish no le había ordenado levantar las manos, pero el hombre lo hizo de todas formas con un pequeño salto. Después, como si se hubiera percatado de quien provenía la advertencia, su comportamiento cambió en un instante. Sus hombros tensos cayeron en un suspiro junto con sus manos, y el hombre se dio la vuelta despreocupado. “Pendejo, casi me cago del susto.”

“Oh. Roier.” Bajó el arma, vergüenza curiosamente surgiendo dentro de él al haber apuntado a su hijo con ella. “¿Qué haces aquí?”

“Nada, nada. Solo visitaba.” Contestó demasiado rápido. Sospechosamente rápido, diría Foolish. Sus ojos se dirigieron a las ventanas de la casa de madera, “Hace mucho que no veo al Missa y quería ver si estaba en casa.”

“Missa no viene muy seguido.” Dijo Foolish, explicando lo obvio, tal vez solo para llenar la conversación y hacer sentir a Roier menos nervioso. No obstante, cuando regresó su mirada a él, se sorprendió de verlo considerando saltar de la muralla y huir. “¿Tenías algo que hacer aquí o…?”

“No, no, como crees.” Agitó una mano en desconsideración. “Bueno, a lo mejor. Pero no le digas a nadie.” Cualquier pizca de incertidumbre fue borrada de su voz, dando paso a un raro entusiasmo. Foolish asintió a su pregunta, y ambos se acercaron para susurrar a pesar de no necesitarlo. “Voy a ayudar a Missa con Philza.”

Tomado por sorpresa, retrocedió con una risita, “¿Qué?”

“Missa anda chinge y chinge con el Felipe y que no se merece su amor y no sé qué tanta verga– así que lo voy a ayudar a ver si así se calla.”

“Okay,” Digirió sus palabras con lentitud, “¿Pero no Phil y Missa ya eran… algo?” Finaliz�� estúpidamente, confuso de la posible relación de ambos. Estaba seguro de haber escuchado por ahí que estaban casados los primeros días de conocerse, pero considerando el tiempo que había pasado y la falta de presencia de Missa, bien podría haber sido solo un rumor.

Viendo la cara de Roier, él también parecía estar igual de confundido. “No. Creo. La neta no sé.”

“¿Entonces qué? ¿Tienes planeado irrumpir en su casa y buscar, como, evidencia de ellos siendo pareja?”

“¿Qué? No. Ni que estuviera pendejo.” Como si fuera por arte de magia – y distrayendo a Foolish al preguntarse si las había sacado del culo – produjo una pluma y varias hojas de papel, todas de un color amarillo suave con un estampado floral. “Voy a escribir una carta a Philza en nombre de Missa para empezar un intercambio de letras entre los dos. De esta manera, aun si fueran algo, seguiría ayudando a Missa con su crush.”

Dejando de lado la posibilidad de que los otros dos hombres fueran tan emocionalmente constipados como para estar casados pero no al tanto de sus respectivos sentimientos, Foolish comentó sobre algo que le interesaba más. “Eso no explica porque estás aquí.”

Roier sonrió. Era la clase de sonrisa de alguien que no sabía de lo que estaba hablando. “¿Dónde más las voy a entregar? Esta es la casa de Philza, ¿No?”

“Uhm, ¿En la biblioteca? Tenemos un sistema de correo y todo.”

“¡¿Tenemos una biblioteca?!”

“¡¿Dónde más pondríamos las cartas?! ¿En el buzón donde nadie pudiera encontrarlas?”

“Bueno, me vale madre. Ya estoy aquí.” Resopló tomando asiento al lado del trampolín y recostándose bocabajo al igual que una niña con su diario.

“Podrías simplemente dejarle una nota a Missa con tu idea y que él lo hiciera.”

“Missa nunca va a dar el primer paso. Es demasiado pussy para hacerlo.”

Instinto policiaco o no, cualquiera hubiera notado el tono inusual en su voz. Aun si Foolish no podía captar del todo qué era. ¿Anhelo? ¿Arrepentimiento? Fuera lo que fuese, era mejor no insistir. La pérdida de Cellbit era muy reciente todavía.

“¿Y si te atrapan?” Preguntó después de un minuto, llamando la atención del perpetrador.

“Pos culpamos al pinche Badboyhalo y que le haga como pueda.”

Foolish parpadeó, asimilando lo que acababa de decir su hijo. Honestamente, no era la peor idea que se había concebido en la Isla Quesadilla. Se encogió de hombros y tomó lugar a su lado. “¿Cómo piensas empezar?”

“No sé, con algo que diga que lo extraña o una mamada así. ¿Tú qué piensas?”

“Podría funcionar; algo que diga que tanto lo extraña. O, qué, no importa que tanto tiempo pase, él tendrá, ya sabes,” Foolish soltó una risa entrecortada, de repente cohibido ante el uso de la pareja como un reflejo de su propia relación. Quizás aquello podría servirle como un incentivo para armarse de valor e intentar reconectar con Vegetta a través de cartas. O Quizás debería prestar más atención y notar que Roier seguía escribiendo y diciendo en voz alta “Algo así como ‘Oh, Philza, estás bien pinche guapo vamos a coger–” al mismo tiempo que Foolish terminó con un “Seguirá regresando a su lado– Oh.”

“¿Qué?”

“Tal vez– Tal vez no deberías de ser tan directo. No creo que Phil aprecie un trato tan directo…”

Rodó los ojos, “Le va a gustar cualquier cosa que venga de Missa.”

Pero pese a su comentario, Roier frotó su pulgar sobre la frase, tratando de borrarla con su sudor. Pensó en usar su saliva para dispersar la tinta, más pareció olvidarlo cuando Foolish volvió a hablar, y dio vuelta a la hoja como si nada hubiera sucedido.

“¿Qué tal si mejor comienzas con un saludo?” Roier asintió y se encaminó para escribir ‘Mi amor’ solo para ser interrumpido otra vez. “Creo que ‘Mi amor’ sigue siendo muy directo para ambos, o sea, si fueran solo amigos creo–” Roier chasqueó su lengua, tachando el escrito y colocando ‘Pendejo’ como saludo, “No, no me refería a eso–”

“¡Cabrón, decídete! ¡No soy pinche documento de Word para darle control zeta cada que se te ocurra algo nuevo!”

“¡Solo estaba intentado ayudar!” Tratando de bajar su voz, suspiró, “‘Mi amor’ está bien.”

Roier entrecerró sus ojos con sospecha, pero regresó al papel para tachar el saludo una última vez y volver al apodo cariñoso. Jugueteó con la pluma paseándola entre cada valle de sus nudillos, no quitando los ojos de las palabras recién redactadas y esperando la luz verde de Foolish. “¿Y ahora?”

Hizo una pausa, considerándolo. “Supongo que podríamos irnos por algo más poético. Eso nunca fallaba con Vegetta.”

“A Vegetta solo le gusta lo poético porque es un viejo–” El movimiento de la pluma paró. “¿Qué tan viejo es Philza?”

“No lo sé, pero probablemente muy viejo.”

“Muy, muy viejo.”

Para ser dos personas excepcionalmente ruidosas, ambos se sumieron en un silencio.

“¿Entonces poético?” Foolish fue el primero en hablar.

“Nos van a llamar el mismísimo Paulo Coelho después de esto.” Roier contestó con una sonrisa, sumergiéndose dentro del rol de escritor fantasma.

#pissa #qsmp shipping #ahi no acaba el cap #pero pos. es un wip.#a lo mejor lo termino en una semana? no se #pero cuando lo haga borro este jajaja

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eusuntgratie · 4 months ago

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if you missed it, my raf/alex fic is posted <3

something special from cuck fic today. hbd redacted i hope you're celebrating in ways that would melt my brain right out of my head.

under the cut today. tags down there too + open tag for anyone with words to share <3

Taylor’s big feet are spread on the rug, grounding him. He follows the lines of his legs up, the way the dark hair gets a little sparser and his skin gets a little lighter as his gaze moves up from his feet to his calves to his thighs and finally settles on his ass. His plug sits snugly there, just one more reminder of who Taylor belongs to. Nick stares at the pretty script interlocking letters, the perfect lines of Taylor’s ass, and swallows the spit that pools in his mouth. He was told to be good, and he’ll show them both that he can be.

tagging @lostcol @bigassbowlingballhead @stratocumulusperlucidus @basil-bird @taste-thewaste

@onthewaytosomewhere @softboynick @sparklepocalypse @firstprincehornyramblings @sheepywritesfics

and anyone else who wants to! tag me so i can see!!

#voice note 2 #grace writes #redactaynick #rpf foolishness

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heysweetheart-writes · 7 months ago

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Several sentences Sunday!

Hello! I got so many tags today that I decided to share something! Thank you so much to the following lovelies for the tags: @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @theprinceandagcd @tailsbeth-writes @kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius

@ninzied @bigassbowlingballhead @suseagull04 @anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew

@onthewaytosomewhere & @firenati0n I've been reading over your words all day but was with my baby brother so I wasn't focused enough to reblog and add coments on my tags how I like so I'll be doing that through out tonight and tomorrow but thank you so much for the words, they were delicious as always!

Here's, hopefully, the last of the rpf I'm going to share.

In a very fucking hot display of core strength, Taylor watches Nick pull himself up to a sitting position, and before he can even react, Nick has a hand on his nape and he’s bringing Taylor in for a bruising kiss. Taylor moans into it, speeding his hand on them, palming their tips while they pant into each other’s mouth in between kisses. It feels too fucking good and Taylor wants to both chase his release and for it to last forever at the same time. Nick moves his hand to the side of Taylor’s face and pulls away, breaking the kiss. He’s looking into Taylor’s eyes, his lips slightly parted so that he can feel his warm breath. It makes Taylor’s head spin and chest hurt in the most delicious way. He wants to look away but he can’t. You don’t want to miss this, he tells himself.

Tags under the cut!

I’m tagging both people I want to see what they’re up to and people I’m hoping will see this snip: @read-and-write- @cricketnationrise @zwiazdziarka @priincebutt @pridepages

@onward--upward @getmehighonmagic @nocoastposts @14carrotghoul @eusuntgratie

@brokenpartsmightfit @itsmaybitheway @sparklepocalypse as usual, sorry if you posted and I missed it and if you don't want to be tagged, let me know!

#rwrb fic #rwrb rpf #taynick #rwrb rpf fic #rpf foolishness #sentences sunday #my fic #fic: detras del humo no se ve

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bigassbowlingballhead · 9 months ago

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Sentence Sunday 2/25/2024

tags from @violetbaudelaire-quagmire and @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

What's this? I'm early? I got hit with the inspiration bug for a single scene I'm not sure what I'm going to do with yet going to go under a cut since A.) it's RPF and B.) it's a little smutty

Nick hums as he strums and Taylor’s hand presses with various degrees of pressure. “Is this too much?” he asks softly with a particularly firm press. Nick responds with a slow shake of his head. “Good,” Taylor says, grabbing the neck of the guitar and leaning it gently against the wall. He leans down and kisses Nick softly and drops his towel. Taylor’s half hard dick hangs in front of Nick’s face, and he licks his lips. “Do you want that?” Taylor asks, already knowing the answer. Nick nods his head anyway and Taylor steps forward, his balls brush softly over Nick’s face. Taylor’s hand touches Nick’s other cheek and his thumb drags across his soft lower lip before slipping inside. Nick’s mouth closes around Taylor’s thumb and circles it with his tongue, Taylor presses in deeper.

tags @anincompletelist @sparklepocalypse @eusuntgratie @heybuddy-drabbles @wordsofhoneydew @nocoastposts @groversimhadri @getmehighonmagic @littlemisskittentoes @captainjunglegym @firenati0n @lostcol @magicandarchery @cha-melodius and an open tag for anyone who i may have missed or wants to share some words!

#don't like rpf don't open #i'm gonna go poke more at this #six sentence sunday #jon writes now?#rpf foolishness

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 4 months ago

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Hello and welcome to my blog!

About me:

All of my works are +18 and NSFW, please don’t interact if you’re a minor. English is not my first language and I have no beta reader, please have mercy.

I take requests, so if you would like me to write something in particular send me an ask and I will try to accommodate you as best as I can. However, I reserve the right to avoid topics that trigger me, I will let you know immediately if I can't write what you would like. Finally, be patient if it takes me a while, I have two jobs so in certain periods I probably won't be able to write right away, I will try to do it as soon as I can. For now I only write for Pedro Pascal characters (no RPF), especially Joel Miller. I haven't written for some characters yet but I would definitely try if you're interested. Thank you so much ❤️

I do not allow any of my work to be reposted, translated, redistributed, or fed to AI. Please let me know if you see anyone doing this.

Particularly sensitive topics marked with: 💔

Queer couples marked with: 🏳️‍🌈

Smut is present in all of them so make sure to read the warnings, I don’t want to make someone uncomfortable.

Joel Miller:

• Perfect ~ Soft Boyfriend!Joel Miller x Curvy AFAB!reader

No outbreak. Basically Joel worshipping you and your curvy body

• Be still, my foolish heart ~ Soft Single dad!Joel Miller x Curvy f!Reader

A meet cute at the clinic where you work leads to finding the best date you could ask for… our one and only Joel Miller

• Happy Birthday, little finch ~ Jackson!Joel Miller x AFAB!reader

Everyone forgets your birthday but you receive an unexpected invitation (wink) that will change the fate of the day. (No spoilers from the original second game, Jackson is totally made up by me)

• Guess ~ Soft boyfriend!Joel Miller x AFAB!reader

Pwp inspired by Guess by Charli xcx featuring Billie Eilish. Joel guess the color of your underwear and then eats you in a restrooom.

(Yeah, I have no excuses for this lmao)

• Special Needs ~ DBF!Joel Miller x F!reader, no outbreak

Joel lets you convince him that you can help him get back in shape.

• Shirt On ~ Sub!Joel X Soft dom! F reader

Joel getting pegged by you while you wear his flannel shirt.

• On a razor’s edge ~ Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel helps you shave. There.

• It started out with a kiss, how did it ended like this? ~ Young!Joel Miller x f!reader

You meet Joel at a party, everything is fine, he’s beautiful… will it end well?

• The right ones ~ soft!Joel Miller x reader / fluff and comfort (written in a neutral way so every person who menstruates can identify with it ❤️)

Joel buys you pads. ‘Cause Joel provides, you know, no matter the situation.

• Slow ~ Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tiny drabble, just pure smut.

• It feels like hope ~ Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader

There's a new priest in your parish and he's very different from anyone you've ever known. / there will be smut. lol

• We all need someone ~ Jackson!Joel x afab!reader

Joel says I love you for the first time.

• Hold it ~ Joel Miller x afab!reader (pi$$ kink)

• Hold it - pt 2 ~ Joel Miller x afab!reader (pi$$ kink)

• Do you think I'm your babygirl? I think the fuck not ~ Joel Miller x afab!reader

A casual fling with Joel. But you're kinda bad at feelings, because of reasons.

• Something Rotten ~ Dark!QZ Joel x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess 💔

Dead dove do not eat - Joel and Tess catch you stealing from their room. Consequences are inevitable and cruel.

• A heart that hurts is a heart that works ~ Dark!QZ Joel Miller x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess

Dead dove do not eat - a sequel for Something Rotten that digs a little bit more into reader's mind. And some more deranged smut lol

• Waffles for breakfast ~ Joel Miller x afab!reader

Joel makes you breakfast. I mean, he tries very hard.

• It wasn’t your fault ~ Sweet gentle priest!Javi G X hurt grumpy!Joel Miller, post cordyceps outbreak.💔🏳️‍🌈

Javi G helping Joel to accept his loss.

Marcus Acacius:

• Don’t say a word if this word is not “please”. ~ General!Marcus Acacius X slave trader!Javier Peña 💔🏳️‍🌈

Basically two people who hate their guts reciprocally but also want to f*** each other.

Oberyn Martell:

• Move, baby ~ Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x f!reader 🏳️‍🌈

P*rn with very little plot, reader is a sex worker and happens to have a very great night with both Oberyn and Ellaria

Frankie Morales:

• You look like a fun place to sit ~ neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Javi G:

• A perfect day ~ Javier Gutierrez - The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent X Gabriela

Javi and Gabi, happily in love, spending time together on the beach.

Lucien Flores:

• Let’s get it on ~ Lucien Flores x Afab!reader x Frankie Morales

Lucien is your ex, Frankie is your boyfriend. You’re all bi. Smut smut smut (with love ❤️ ) 🏳️‍🌈

Javier Peña:

Poison & Wine ~ Javier Peña x f!reader 💔

You love him. But you can’t say it out loud.

Forget the horror here ~ Javier Peña x f!reader

Javi’s POV for Poison and Wine

Happy reading!

#masterlist #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #javi gutierrez #oberyn martell #marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #javier peña #one shot #pedro pascal #joel miller x original character

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