#so here’s a tip of the hat to you guys

[amaranthinespirit]

cowboy!simon riley and city girl!reader when your car breaks down on the side of the road in the countryside

you weren't from around here, it was obvious in the way you dressed, and acted. hell, even the car you drove just screamed that you were from the city.

though if that didn't give it away, maybe it was the fact that your tiny little car was now parked—broken down—on the side of the road. a hand on your hip and the other wiping the sweat from your forehead as the blistering sun beat down on you.

you were convinced you were royally fucked—that you would be stuck to a night in your car. there wasn't any service, and there sure as hell wasn't anyone around.

at least that's what you thought until a massive, dirtied truck pulled off the road in front of your car. you swallowed a knot in the back of your throat that only travelled down to your stomach as you watched a tall, intimidating guy step out from the battered vehicle. his boots kicked against the road, scraping the tiny, loose rocks on the asphalt.

a cowboy hat hung low on his head, a fully black bandana tied around his face that covered his nose and lips, leaving only his dark, daunting eyes to sear into yours. his thumb hooked through the denim belt loop of his jeans, his other arm swaying by his side as he walked to the front of your car, which looked pathetically small next to his.

a quick look under the hood told him all he needed to know—with you and the car. he saw the way your eyes seemed to linger on his exposed arms after he had rolled up his sleeves. the dirt smudges along his skin, the dark ink of his tattoo and the veins that strained as he tinkered through the different parts of your car.

he claimed that he could fix it tomorrow—he didn't have the tools with him! he claimed, but really, they were lying in the bed of his truck, but he didn't want to let such a pretty little thing like you go so quickly. he wanted to have a bit of fun first!

so he offered you a nice stay at his little farmhouse, with the promise of warm food and a comfortable bed to sleep on, and who were you to resist? it was either that, or sleep in the backseat of your car—and you knew which one you would've preferred.

"fuck, such a pretty little thing, ain't ya?" he praises with a beer in one hand, the other veined hand wrapped up in your silky hair, helping your body in pulling back into his cock. the couch creaked and rocked under the consistent shifting weight as he pistoned his hips forward.

the rocking of his hips was restrained in order to not spill his beer—otherwise he would've loved to completely wreck you on his meaty cock.

"gon' hafta keep ya around, ain't tha' right?" he grunted before taking a swift sip from the bottle.

when the beer got to the end of the bottle and he set the glass down, you were in trouble. with a swift movement, he had pulled out enough so only the angry tip of his cock teased your hole, slick with your arousal before driving his bulbous dick back into your sensitive pussy.

his hips pounded against your ass, turning your flesh red as the sound of skin slapping together carried through the house. his balls slapping against your glistening pussy with every slamming thrust, the sensation making your eyes roll back. he was determined to make a mess of you—more so than he already did.

his fist clenched harder around your hair as the other went to your shoulder, a bruising grip against your flesh. he growled at the mindless moans spilling from your lips, only making him even more driven to fuck you brainless.

and don't worry, he will.

[xcziel]

.

[somnoir]

How to pull a Batman by J. Constantine

John Constantine wouldn't say he was quite fond of children. He's not fatherly by any means so he knows that he's not suitable for raising children. It's just that he somehow ends up with a young girl at his front door (how she found the house of mystery, he's not sure). The little girl looked normal but she felt off. Too drenched in death to be a run-of-the-mill child. Her red hair seemed to turn into flames at the tips, and her eyes were eerily teal and glowed. Everything about her seemed wrong.

"Hello." She murmured, "Clockwork told me to come find you."

And she was just blinking, looking utterly uncanny as John reluctantly welcomed her into the house. "Master of Time?" He hesitated, knowing that amongst the many powerful beings he'd met the ancient of time had been one of them. A mirthful entity who seemed amused by the chaos and order of the multiverse. 

"He told me to give you this!" The girl fished out a glowing green paper from... y'know, he's not sure. 

And in mocking calligraphy the words:

"You owe me :). p.s. there's more."

was directed at John like a fucking signal. 

Great... Being indebted to the cosmic entity of time has made him a father.

He thought it'd happen one time. Just once. Little Jasmine was adept at the occult and got along well with ghosts, often playing peacemaker when one of them tried bothering Constantine. She was concerningly liminal for a twelve-year-old child, but she brushed it of for the fact that her siblings were either halfas or very liminal. Was he concerned, admittedly yes. 

It wasn't until there was a pounding at the door again did he start praying to any god willing to listen. But no. The sentient house practically dragged him through the halls and led him to where Jazz was eagerly waiting, a grin on her face. 

"My baby brothers are here!" She excitedly says, eyes practically sparkling as she grabs him by the hand. 

"Slow down, darlin'. They won't bloody leave if we slow down." He sighed in exasperation, before pulling the door open. Two pairs of eyes stared into his very soul, making his breath hitch.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the hell was Clockwork sending him?!

"Danny! Dan" Jazz squealed, dragging the two halfas into the house. One with green eyes and another with red. 

"Clockie wasn't kidding when he said he's a sad guy in a trench coat." The one with green eyes muttered, still floating and staying close to Jazz and his twin. 

"Clockwork slept with that?" The red-eyed one unabashedly judged. "Another fruitloop..." The boy snarled.

John Constantine could already predict the future at this point.

Daniel and Dante take to the house immediately, haunting it to their hearts content.

In the course of four years, the hellblazer drowns in the depths of fatherhood, making sure that no one could find out about his children. No. Not even Batman.

He'd be damned (even more) than let anyone involve the best parts of his life in contingency plans and whatnot. 

His kids grow up to be a rowdy and peculiar bunch.

His eldest, Jazz, was turning out to be one hell of a magician. Especially in necromantic arts that he's tried not to touch many times.

The twins, Danny and Dante were little hellions that made him want to tear his hair out. Its later on when Clockwork comes to visit their children (because its joint custody now) that he's informed that one is the crown prince of the realms and to be king upon the expiration of his mortality, and the other was an alternate version of him and was dubbed the world destroyer. 

His fourth child and second daughter had come in the form of Sam, who had popped up in the house and was decorating it with plants he from different dimensions. Also, she was apparently a green witch that now had the powers of the spirit known as undergrowth. The house was green.

His fifth child came in the form of a boy with a red hat and a laptop clutched against his chest. Tucker had seemed so harmless and sweet compared to his older siblings... until John found him performing ancient egyptian rituals and casually hacking into the Pentagon for fun. 

His last (Thank god) daughter was a zoomie toddler. Little Elle had arrived three years after Jazz did. A five year old with such intense wanderlust that he was tempted to buy one of those harness leash thingies parents had their children wear. Also, like the twins in which she was the clone of, she was one hell of a child being directly connected to the speed force.

So in conclusion, John Constantine was the father of three children on the verge of becoming Ancients, a highly intelligent girl with a very deep connection to death, the successor of fucking Undergrowth, and a boy who could effortlessly hack into government systems whilst being a pharao-in-training. 

Batman must never know.

In the far future, John Constantine battles it out with Bruce Wayne, who's children thought it was a good idea to start flirting with his hellions.

Constantine: TO HELL WITH YOU IF YOU THINK IM LETTING MY PERFECT JAZZY PANTS DATE YOUR FLIPPY SON!

Bruce: SHE'S GOOD FOR HIM!

Constantine: YEAH WILL IS HE GOOD FOR HER?!

And then it gets worse once John catches the Red Hood displaying some ghostly courting behaviour towards Dan. And he's just.

Constantine: Tell your children to back off.

Bruce: You think I haven't tried???

Then comes Danny and Tim with their unhinged behavior. Constantine isn't even mad about the fact that his son is dating one of the Bats. He's just concerned about the chaos with these two.

Bruce: okay, that one is not allowed. How do we get them to break up?

Constantine who's already witnessed Danny making plans to brutally murder Ra's for some spleen: Yeah, no. Good luck with that one.

By the time it's just Sam, Tucked, and Elle, he's praying it's not one of the Bats.

He really is.

Tucked is emmersed in his work but that didn't stop him from befriending Bart Allen and the current Kid Flash. Time travel is the one they usually discuss. (Dante and Constantine were very much on the same page when it came to keeping them just friends.)

And then Sam somehow ends up catching the attention of a daughter of Zeus. By this point, Constantine was preparing to fight god again and would have to ask his ex for a favor.

He's just so happy his precious princess Elle was being a sweet fifteen years old and wasn't daring crazy people.

(Damian was being rather suspicious...)

[chibinasuu]

Ace x Reader ― reunion; kisses

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw, childhood friends to lovers, GN!reader, no use of y/n

“You saved my little brother’s life. He never stops talking about you.” 

Portgas D. Ace took off his hat and bowed slightly to the Captain of the Red Hair Pirates, “I just wanted to thank you in person.” 

You didn’t expect to see him here, of all places. 

He had not seen you yet, hidden among the onlookers. Your heart was hammering in a ferocious beat – it had been since the moment you saw that familiar wide-brimmed orange hat, that silky black hair, that freckled face, that cheesy smile.

God, you missed him.

He wasn’t the lanky boy you knew anymore. He was a bit taller now, and his hair was longer than it was the last time you saw him. He was also… bigger. It was hard to see underneath that cloak he was wearing, but you were sure he had put on some muscles. 

You wanted to call out to him, to surge forward and hold him, but you held yourself back out of respect for this monumental exchange between the Super Rookie and the Emperor. 

Shanks’ frown turned into a wide grin, his laughter echoing in the dark cave, “You’re Luffy’s brother? I didn’t know he had one!”

Suddenly, Shanks turned and called out your name, “You know this guy? You used to hang around Luffy too, right?”

The crowd of Red Hair Pirates parted to let you through, and Ace’s eyes widened in disbelief as he finally noticed you. His lips formed your name though no sound came out, shell-shocked at this happenstance that was just too good to be true. 

���Is that really you?” He said when he finally found his voice. 

You felt tears of joy threatening to spill out as you grinned, “It is!”

You were practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you looked up at Shanks, your eyes silently asking for permission. 

Shanks sighed, smiling and giving you a nod in Ace’s direction, “Go ahead.”

You thanked him before running toward Ace and launching yourself into his arms. He caught you firmly, laughing while spinning you around a few times before setting you down gently.

“I can’t believe it’s actually you!” He exclaimed breathlessly, “What? How? What happened since I left Dawn Island?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but before you could get any word out, Shanks interrupted with a shouted order to his crew, “Prepare a feast!”

“You’re welcome here," he told Ace, giving him a friendly pat on the back. "Tell me all about your adventures.”

As the Red Hair Pirates and the Spade Pirates partied the night away, exchanging stories over shared bottles of sake, Ace found you among the crowd and dragged you outside into the quiet night.

Away from the noise, you suddenly became very much aware of Ace’s warmer-than-average hand holding your cold one. 

He found a wide, flat rock near the cave’s entrance and swiftly removed his cloak. He wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath, and you briefly – and hopefully subtly – glanced at his newly exposed torso.

Yep, he had definitely put more muscles on. 

He laid his cloak on top of the rock and sat down, patting the space next to him.

“Aren’t you cold?” You asked as you plopped down beside him.

Ace lit the tip of his index finger on fire in answer.

“Right,” you chuckled, “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“So, how did you end up with an Emperor of the Sea?”

That’s Ace, you thought. Always straight to the point. 

“Not long after you set off to sea, I booked a passage to Loguetown. I was planning to find work with some traveling merchants there, but I was attacked by a bunch of nasty pirates who wanted to rob me.” 

Ace’s brows furrowed in concern, but you continued on with your story, “Shanks happened to be in town on some business, and he saved me. He recognized me as the kid who used to play with Luffy in Windmill Village and took me in. I’ve been sailing with his crew ever since.”

“Not officially part of the crew though, I’m just tagging along.” You quickly clarified, “Being in an Emperor’s crew was never part of my plan. Shanks is just kind enough to let me stay in his ship until I figure out what’s next.”

Truthfully, you didn’t know (and didn’t want to think about) what was next.

At first, you just wanted to be a merchant – open your own business and travel island to island in the East. 

You didn’t even know why you took up on Shanks’ offer to sail with him in the first place. 

Seeing Ace again, however, had opened a tiny door in the deepest part of your heart, out of which a voice whispered that maybe, it was because you knew that going into the Grand Line was the only way you could even have the slightest chance of ever meeting Ace again. 

But whatever the reason, you had now gotten a taste of the Grand Line – of piracy and the thrill of the adventure. You weren’t sure you could go back to the little corner of the world that was the East Blue. 

Not wanting to dwell on that much longer, you turned the conversation to the man sitting beside you, “Well, how have you been? You’re a big-name pirate now! A captain of your own crew!”

“Yeah, they’re a great bunch.” He chuckled as he started telling you about his crew. He told you about how he met his first mate, Masked Deuce, who you briefly met earlier. He told you about all of his adventures, right from the moment he left Dawn Island until how he got here, at this moment. 

At the end of his story, he just stared at you silently. You shrunk bashfully as he drank you in, slowly taking inventory of what had or had not changed since you last saw each other. 

Finally, he simply said, “I really missed you.” 

You could see your breath as you let it out into the cold air, “I missed you too, Ace.”

He took your hand, stroking his thumb gently across your knuckles. He struggled with his next words, hesitating on whether or not he should say it.

“I think about that night a lot, you know.”

A shaky breath left your mouth as the memories flashed through your mind.

Of his hands, his touch, his lips.

You remembered how he had finally kissed you for the first time on that night before he set out to sea on his seventeenth birthday. How you had yelled at him because how dare he kiss you now when he’d be gone tomorrow. How you had kissed him back anyway. How he had pressed his lips to yours again and again and again until the sun rose, with a promise that he’d see you again someday. 

You looked away, unable to meet his fiery eyes as you admitted, “Me too.” 

Ace took your chin between his fingers, guiding your gaze back to him. 

When you met his eyes again, they were mere inches away from yours. 

The hand on your chin moved to cup your cheek. You didn’t realize you were also leaning in toward him – drawn by an irresistible need to be closer – until your nose bumped his. 

He was so close that you could count the freckles dotted across his face.

The rapid beat of your heart consumed your being. Your thoughts were filled with him, and only him. 

Ace sighed out your name desperately, his lips nearly brushing yours, “Can I–?“

“Yes.”

You couldn’t tell if it was you or him who finally closed the minuscule distance between you, but you couldn’t care less. You couldn’t care about anything else when his lips were on yours, filled with all of the longing and pent-up desire that only grew more intense the longer you were apart. 

His lips were as soft as you remembered, but they moved more surely, more confidently, than the last time you kissed, on that night that seemed so long ago. 

Your hand roamed his defined abs, up to his chest, before settling at the back of his neck. Ace’s arms circled your waist, dragging you in until you were practically sitting on his lap. 

The cold winter night just urged you to get closer and closer – to press your body against his and bask in the rising temperature of his bare skin. 

You gasped as his tongue flicked out to tease you, and he took advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. 

You were drunk on the taste of him, sweeter and more potent than the most expensive sake you’ve ever had. 

The need for air had you panting slightly as you pulled back, sweat dotting your brows. 

“You’re so hot, Ace.” 

“Yeah?” He claimed your lips again in a short but heated kiss, “You think so?”

“No,” You said, abruptly pulling away from him, “I mean you’re literally hot.” 

He jumped up as if woken up from a trance, quickly moving away from you. It was then that you noticed that the sleeve of your coat had started catching on fire. 

Ace frantically stripped the coat off you and plunged it into the snow, but his fire had done its damage. You looked pitifully at the unsalvageable scorched sleeve. Guess you needed a new coat. 

“S-sorry!” Ace’s whole face, no, even his neck and torso, were bright red, “Sometimes that happens when I’m too, uh… excited.”

You laughed, burying your burning face in your hands, secretly pleased that you could get the mighty Fire Fist so worked up that he briefly lost control of his powers. 

“C’mere, Hotstuff.” You beckoned him closer, “You ruined my coat, now you gotta keep me warm.”

He sat back down, immediately enveloping your body with his. You sighed in pleasure as you settled into his warm embrace, laying your head on his chest. 

You never wanted to let go.

You sat together like that for minutes, or maybe hours. No words were exchanged, but it was a comfortable silence, broken only by the rustle of the trees and the whistle of the winds.

After what felt like an eternity, Ace’s arms tightened around you, “Come with me.”

You swore your heart stopped for a second there. 

“Join my crew. Or don’t. You can just stay on my ship – I don’t care as long as you’re by my side.” Ace ranted in one breath, his anxiety on full display as he awaited your answer. 

“Ace,” you finally said, “It’s not that simple.” 

“Why can’t it be that simple?” He said softly, letting his forehead fall against yours, “I don’t think I can stand being apart from you again.”

You closed your eyes as you sighed, already feeling your walls cracking, but still refusing to let them crumble completely, “Let me think about it.”

He nodded, “I leave tomorrow morning. I’ll be waiting for you at the coast.” 

Ace draped his cloak on you, and you thanked him with one last peck on his lips. You walked towards the encampment of the Red Hair Pirates, hugging the cloak tighter to fight the freezing winds. It smelled like him. 

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to sail on Ace’s ship – to have him by your side at all times. To discover new islands and have adventures with him. To fall asleep next to him and wake him up with kisses. 

You realized that the decision had been made by your heart all along, ever since the moment you saw him, even before he extended his offer. You were a fool to think that your brain had any say in this at all.

Your feet had unwittingly carried you to Shanks’ tent, and you knew what you had to do.

“Shanks?” You called, “You awake?”

A groan from inside the tent told you that he was at least conscious. There was no telling how many barrels of alcohol he had consumed at the party. 

“Come in,” he croaked.

Shanks took one look at you and sighed. 

The Captain looked quite disheveled, but was surprisingly coherent when he said, “You’re going with him, aren’t you?” 

“Are you using future sight on me?!” 

He eyed your mussed-up hair and swollen lips, “Darling, I didn’t need to.”

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment as Shanks chuckled.

“I saw how you looked at him, kid,” he added on a more serious note, “And I saw how he looked at you.” 

“I think I might love him, Shanks.” You said, surprising yourself. Your voice was barely audible even in the quiet tent. 

“I mean, I used to have a massive crush on him back when we were teenagers. But, seeing him again… it’s like everything just clicked.”

Shanks just nodded in understanding, “So this is it, isn’t it? Your ‘next’.” 

“I think it is.”

“Go. Be with him.” His eyes were soft as he smiled at you, “Be happy. You deserve it.”

You crushed him in a hug, “Thanks for everything, Shanks.”

You choked up as you felt his one arm tighten around your back.

It was not easy, packing up everything and saying goodbye to the crew that has become your family these past few years. 

But as you trudged toward the coast, you felt your heart growing bigger, making room for a new home, a new family, and a new adventure. 

For the first time, instead of dread, you felt excited for what would come next.

a/n: this event was supposed to be max 1k drabbles, but alas, i was carried away (again). this was my first time writing for ace, and i actually felt quite happy with how this turned out! i hope you all enjoyed it and pleeease let me hear your thoughts in the comments or tags <3

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[whytheylosttheirminds]

LUNCH

(rafe cameron blurb)

pairing: waitress!reader x rafe cameron

content: smut, 18+ minors do not interact!

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

You usually liked your job. Being on your feet all day sucked, and some of the members here were assholes, but they were rich assholes and you never left without your purse overflowing with tips.

It only took a few weeks of waitressing at the Island Club’s restaurant to learn what kinds of things had you clocking out with pockets full of twenties and fifties. You weren’t even from North Carolina originally, but you adopted a sweet, southern drawl to match your fake smile. When you were back-of-house waiting on food for your tables, you’d drop the act, fucking around with the cooks and swearing like a sailor, immediately codeswitching to an angelic southern belle when you were back on the floor.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” the old men would say when you dropped off their burgers. 

“You’re welcome, hun,” you’d say to their face, followed by “get fucked, creep,” once your back was turned.

Somehow, the younger guys were even worse. At least the older men had some subtlety, but the twenty-something, trustfunded Kook boys that would come in had absolutely no tact, and they tipped like shit.

Today, none of your work friends were scheduled with you, your new manager had laid into you about your dress being too short for a professional environment, and to top it off, you were working a double. You were actually considering quitting when a herd of local boys came barrelling into the restaurant, fresh off of making fools of themselves on the golf course - all swagger and no skill. You groaned when they sat themselves in your section.

You had absolutely no patience left in you. Instead of your usual chipper greeting and the list of today’s specials, you arrived at their table snapping, “you’re supposed to wait to be seated.”

The guy closest to you looked up under the shadow of his Titlest hat, a smug glint in his eyes as he said, “y'know, you’d be prettier if you smiled. You’d make a lot more money too.” His buddies erupted in laughter, as if he’d just brought the house down with his wit.

You were so fucking done, not even caring if you lost your job.

“Eat me,” you bit back at him. A casual flick of your middle finger in his face as you spun and sauntered away. He watched your hips swing as you left.

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Your dress was bunched up around your waist and apron thrown on the club’s bathroom floor. He kneeled behind you as your nails dug into the marble countertop. Fingertips digging into your ass cheeks, he shook his head back and forth rapidly, dragging his tongue all over your pussy. His pornographic slurps made you whimper helplessly, so incredibly frustrated and turned on. He turned his hat around backwards so he could get deeper.

His big hand came down hard on the side of your thigh with a loud thwack. There would be a red handprint at the hem of your dress when you returned from your 15-minute break. If your boss wasn’t pissed at you before, you were in for it now. But you were too fucked out to care, forgetting all about your bad shift. You let him devour you, your whole body shuddering with every precise flick of his tongue against your clit.

He nibbled at the skin of your inner thighs as he hooked his fingers into you skillfully, drunk on the sound of all the pretty profanities that flowed from your lips.

You came so hard he had to hold you up against the bathroom sink, your knees shaking as you struggled to pull your panties back up. He stood behind you, wiping his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand. He caught your eyes in the mirror, smiling arrogantly at your bright red cheeks and smudged makeup.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.” 

‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Your legs wobbled as you walked back to the table with only his drink on your tray. His friends were already getting up to leave, complaining about how long their food was taking. You'd forgotten all about their orders. He took the cold glass from you with a wink, throwing it back before following his friends to the door.

“You gonna pay for that?” You scoffed.

“Put it on Cameron!” He called back.

You rolled your eyes.

Maybe you’d keep this job a little longer.

[exitwound]

do you know what’s so insane about supernatural and it took me four years to realize this. Narratively. Monsterhunting show about two guys and each episode there’s a monster or the week and also an overarching plot for each season. Very simple very classic. Hold on. there’s a third guy. Ummmmm he’s not an antagonist though. Ummmm well they try to kill him but also he tries to kill them but also they’re like all really good friends especially one of the guys is realllllly good friends with him. He’s an angel not a monster also but in this world angels are narratively like monsters except for this one he’s different. We will tell you he’s different but we won’t tell you why. Here’s eleven seasons of this angel repeatedly featuring prominently in the narrative, becoming basically a third protagonist, but never quite having a spot in the car. Sometimes he sits in the backseat. Sometimes he sits next to dean. Sometimes dean adjusts his collar. tips his cowboy hat. Winks at him. Then he disappears. Sometimes he’s not even an angel. And what keeps him in this show? every other character but sam and dean eventually leaves, dies, disappears, or is forgotten, what’s cas’ place? He doesn’t have one. He is in love with dean winchester. Dean winchester dies. Okay show over 😁

[inklore]

— tyler owens x f!reader tyler knows for sure that he has never seen anything as beautiful as you riding him in the bed of his truck, wearing nothing but his hat. contents: p in v, dirty talk, cowboy hate rule | wc: 573+

There’s a thick layer of sweat coating your skin, the sound of cicadas and bullfrogs a back drop symphony to the lewd noises coming from the bed of Tyler’s truck. 

Each rock of your hips has his cock moving out—in that way that leaves the tip pressing perfectly against your walls, that way that has you catching your breath when you rock back and his entire length moves back inside of you. 

Filling you to the hilt again. Stretching you over and over like your pussy was made for it. 

Made to take Tyler’s thick cock until your legs were shaking around his thighs, and you have made a mess of both of you. Staining the front of his jeans with your juices, and come.

And he just watches you. 

He watched you when you took off his hat and placed it atop your head at the bar with the crew. The corners of his mouth turning up, towering over you, a finger in the loop of your denim shorts. 

“I’ll meet you in the truck.” His palm smacking your ass when you turn and head towards the door, while he turns in the other direction to tell the guys you’re calling it an early night. 

His eyes follow you out the door and through the window, only diverting his gaze when you’ve hopped up in his truck. 

He’s always watching you, like you’re some prized possession. Like you’re the town celebrity, when really all you are is his. 

His girl. 

“You gonna come again, baby?” His teeth bite at your collarbones. His fingers digging into your hips, his thumbs pressed into the bone when he grips them harder and angles you in the position he knows will have his tip hitting that spot inside you that makes you spasm against him. Your nails dig into the shirt still covering his shoulders. 

Your eyes closed and mouth pulled down in a loud moan as your head lulled. 

A strong hand at the back of your neck stops it. Stops you from completely crumpling against him. Never letting his view be taken away from him. 

His eyes transfixed on the way your breasts heave. The way you try to bite your lip to stop from being any louder, as if there was anyone out here to hear you besides wildlife. 

“Come on, ride it.” He’s grunting against your skin. His hips snapping up as much as they can, enough to start your legs shaking. “That’s it, that’s it, take it, baby.” 

His name tumbles from your lips like the only prayer you’ve ever been willing to plead on your knees for. The only prayer that has meaning. That can make you feel so good, loved. 

He breathes into your open mouth. Pushes your neck so your mouth is against his. The tip of his hat bumping into his forehead as it still sits atop your head. His lips rough with desire, but gentle in the way they kiss you until you can breathe normally again. “How I’ve lasted this long is one of the many wonders of the world.” His thumb moves from your hip, up your side, and to your boob. Running the pad of his thumb against your nipple. “Never seen anything as beautiful as you comin’ on my cock, baby.” 

You smile against his lips, your body shuddering against him. Your hips still moving languid and slow, your insides still fluttering. “You know all the right words to say to win a girl's heart, huh?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

[wonderjanga]

Billy’s Homelessness

Being a homeless kid has its perks, Billy supposes. He’s picked up tips and tricks from other kids and even adults during his time. It’s practically second nature to him at this point. Only thing is, the fact that it’s second nature in the first place is what can come back to bite him in the future.

Like lock picking. He’s good at it, and it’s not something he’s particularly proud of, but it’s helped him when he’s needed it most. He’s gotten shelter from blizzards, sleet, and rain with this skill. That’s why when Billy, Flash, GL, and Supes got locked in an all yellow room with red sun lamps and a locked door.

Supes, GL, and Flash: *all discussing how to get out* Marvel: *leans down in front of the keyhole of the door*

Supes: “Alright Flash, vibrate through the door-”

Marvel: “Done!” *opens door*

*silence*

GL: “How’d you do that?”

Marvel: “I picked the lock.” *walks out and immediately gets shot in the face by one of the guards*

Then there’s pickpocketing. He’s also unfortunately good at this. Freddy says he’s better though. Billy isn’t about to make a contest out of it. Batman found out about this particular talent when both him and Billy went undercover for a mission to uncover the scheme of some foreign politician.

Batman: *as Bruce Wayne* “That’s the man.” *subtly gestures to him*

Marvel: “Him? Okay… What do you wanna do?”

Batman: “First, we need to properly identify-”

Marvel: “Oh, okay.” *walks over to the man, passes him, then comes back to Bruce* “Here.” *places the man’s wallet in Bruce’s hand*

Batman: “…that he was involved in the crimes.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

*silence*

Batman: *opens the wallet anyways and starts looking through it*

Marvel: “Do you want me to put it back?”

Batman: *puts one finger up to Marvel’s face while he continues looking through the wallet*

Marvel: *deflates slightly* “Oh, okay.”

Batman: *pulls out a clue from the wallet* “Put this back, chum.”

Marvel: *scurries off to put the wallet back*

Bruce then heavily lamented how Marvel knew how to pickpocket so well. Cause the thing is, Marvel’s like six feet tall. (Had to make him a little shorter guys. My bad.) A man like that had no business doing that so well in a bright red sweater and yellow hat.

Then, there’s the avoiding cops. He rarely sticks around for them. He does not mess with them. He’s had too many bad experiences as Billy for it to translate well to Marvel. Whenever one tries to talk to him, he’ll say the bare minimum as politely as he can and fly off. Sometimes, if he knows it’s a cop who’s harsher on the homeless than most, he’ll act polite(passive aggressive) and then give them a nice, firm(crushing) handshake. One such incident was when a cop asked for a photo:

Cop A and Marvel: *posing for a photo by shaking hands*

Marvel: *smiling at the camera, his grip tightening on the hand*

Cop A: *awkward laugh* “That’s a tight grip you got there, Captain.”

Marvel: *lightens his grip, looking down to Cop A’s name tag: Richard* (This isn’t Nightwing guys) “My bad, dick.”

Cop A: “Excuse me?”

Marvel: “Oh no no no, not like “dick,” Dick.” *grip tightens again* “Not like some spineless, lowlife piece of shit from the bottom of my boot that gets scraped off onto a bigger pile of shit, kind of dick.” *smiles the whole time as he speaks* “No, like your name, officer, Dick.”

Cop A: “I prefer Richard.”

Cop B: *takes photo*

Also, anybody who gets that reference gets a kiss. Man or woman. It doesn’t matter. I don’t make the rules. By the way, someone definitely recorded that entire interaction and #passiveaggressivecap ended up trending on twitter.

Then, there’s the time Supes came over to Fawcett to hang out. They were chilling on a rooftop talking when down below they both saw a teenager steal food from a seller.

Supes: *doesn’t see Marvel move* “Aren’t you gonna stop that kid?”

Marvel: “Uh… no. He’s homeless. He clearly needs it more than we do.”

Supes: *blinks rapidly but then remembers he’s not in Metropolis and can’t really tell Marvel how to run his city* “Okay then.”

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello lovely <3

Can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad run in with infected on a patrol and then when Joel comes home to find her all panicked he comforts her, gets her cleaned up and into bed .etc. ??

Thank you🥰

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

contains non-explicit nudity

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary After a brush with death while on patrol, Joel assures you and himself that you're still here as you wind down for the night [outbreak, fluff, 3.3k]

A/N Thank you so much for this amazing request, anon! This is my first fic of 2025, and I appreciate your patience as I took a little break to transition into the new year. I’ve decided to make this fic a part of the From Here on Out universe. I hope you guys enjoy! 

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Chatter and swells of laughter rest at a minimum amid the Tipsy Bison. Only half the usual Friday night patrons have trickled in so far, peppered around the establishment with drinks in hand. The air is thick with the scent of sharp spirits and stale beer. String lights cast everything in a dim, warm glow. 

Beneath the clunk of Joel’s booted footsteps, the floor is sticky. A few nods are directed his way as he saunters towards the bar, which he returns with a tip of his cowboy hat. In the ten months since he arrived in Jackson, he’d built up a reputation for himself. One that was revered and feared all the same. Fading into the background wasn’t an option anymore. 

If folks still didn’t know his name, they undoubtedly recognized him when he walked into the room. That easy, measured stride. Those brows oftentimes furrowed in thought. Those dark, knowing eyes that were humble enough to know he had a lot more to learn. 

The older man wiping down the counter tosses the rag over his shoulder as Joel approaches. Old stains are splotched down the front of his white shirt. But he’s happy to see Joel. A quiet, jazzy piano melody flows from the billiard room. 

“Howdy Clyde,” Joel drawls as he sits. A few barstools down, a pair of friends talk over beer. “You hiding Duke Ellington back there?” 

The man snorts with a shake of his head. “Good ol’ Dennis. Does this a few times a year,” he says. “Comes in, drinks, plays like it’s paying.” 

Joel gazes through the archway to where a couple people shoot pool. Dennis and the piano are just within sight.

“He ain’t too shabby,” Joel says. 

“Not at all,” Clyde agrees. “‘scuse me for a second.” 

Joel listens to the piano as Clyde goes to refill beers. 

He knows you’d appreciate Dennis’ playing. You were drawn to live music like a moth to a flame. Joel realizes then that he misses you. It’s a peculiar feeling that always seems to compound by the end of the day after being apart. You patrolled together when you could, but he’d been on the roster to volunteer at the community stables today. 

It was good, honest work. Peaceful too. There was no need to be on guard, and he didn’t have to talk to anyone unless someone was particularly keen on striking up a conversation. Being with the animals did a lot more for him than he’d ever expressed out loud. 

Back in front of Joel, Clyde braces his thick weathered hands on the counter, “So how’s Alamo? Came bearing good news for me, I hope.” An attentive furrow has formed between his bushy brows. 

Alamo, Cldye’s Stallion, was recovering from what the veterinarians diagnosed as a mild case of the flu. 

“He’s doing much better,” Joel assures. “Got him to eat and drink more than yesterday. He let me lead him around the corral for a couple laps.” 

Clyde’s eyes are grateful. “Thank God. I don’t know how you do it, man.” Joel smiles at the man’s relief.  “What can I get you?” He quirks his thumb to the wall of bottles behind himself. 

There’s a decent selection. Moonshine, applejack, mead—whiskey, which always sounds particularly good these days. 

Joel purses his lips in brief consideration before saying, “I’m okay tonight. Gotta get home to my lady.” 

Clyde hums in understanding. “Smart man,” he says. “I’ll catch you later.”

Outside, it’s cold enough for Joel to see the frost of his breath. People bundled in coats, hats, and scarves mill around because, despite the chill, it’s just another evening in Jackson. Snow still covers the ground from last week’s snowfall, and more is due any day now. The sky is white with promise as the last of the sun’s light lingers near the horizon amid dustings of pink. 

The community center buzzes with life as he passes by. A few people talk outside, and multiple heads can be seen through the windows. Just as he’s about to avert his gaze and continue on his way, his brother bursts through the doors. 

Tommy lifts his hand to signal him to wait even though Joel doesn’t intend to keep walking away. Relief is etched all across his face. 

“There you are,” he claps his gloved hand onto Joel’s shoulder. “You’re a hard man to find when you wanna be.” The slightly frazzled tone of his voice contrasts the casualness of his words. 

Worry stirs within Joel as he meets his brother’s gaze. “Hey. What going on?” 

Tommy wets his lips as he considers how to phrase the news. “Before you freak out, everybody’s alright,” he starts. “Just a bit shaken up.” 

Joel swallows the lump in his throat. He already knows it’s about you. He wishes he were wrong, but wishing never changed what his gut already knew was cemented in time. 

“Your girl and her patrol partner had a run in with some Clickers earlier this evening while they were out,” Tommy continues, and Joel’s jaw tricks. “No bites, thank God. And they managed to take ‘em all down.” 

An avalanche of guilty, frustrated, and relieved thoughts crash onto Joel all at once. Tommy loosely follows after him as he takes a few composing steps away to run a hand down his beard. Heat has risen in his face to the point where it almost doesn’t feel cold anymore. He can hear his heart in his ears.

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks. It almost sounds like there’s a small ball of cotton stuck in his throat. 

“At your place with Ellie. Her uncle Nate dropped by too,” he says. “She was askin’ for you, and I told ‘em you were on the way.”

It’s days like this that make Joel wish you hadn’t rejoined the patrolling rotation. With or without him. 

He’s is about to walk away, when Tommy adds, “She handled herself mighty fine out there. Both of  ‘em did.” 

•••

Death was no stranger to anyone in Jackson, but you’d never stared so directly into the face of a being that embodied such a definite, unyielding sense of finality. Never seen fungal decay so intimately that it made your skin crawl from the inside out. 

There had been four Clickers earlier that evening. Three taken out by your partner, Langdon, and the final one by you after tumbling to the ground. 

In your struggle, chunks of snow had crept into your jacket and dusted across your face. The bitter chill hardly registered from the moment your back hit the ground. Neither did the sound of your pistol firing as the hulking, distorted figure begin to crawl overtop of you. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat like a heavy tribal drum in your ears. Endure, survive, endure, survive. 

Only after Langdon drug you from beneath the limp Clicker, and hauled you to your feet, did you realize you were releasing frantic sob-like whines with every exhale. 

The entire scene won’t stop playing in your head. Electricity still hums beneath your skin. 

“Joel should be here soon,” Ellie assures again, in part for herself. 

He was always better in situations like these. Always knew what to say because he’d lived these same horrors himself, not a handful of times like she had, but countless since 2003. When it came to providing comfort, she always felt as though she was blindly grasping for the next right thing to say or do. 

But you were grateful to have her here all the same. If nothing else, she knew how to sit and be present. And after being asked to share an account of what happened by countless members of the patrol board, being with her as you wait for Joel is the peace you need. 

When you notice the worried way she’s chewing on her lower lip, you reach out for the glass of water she’d sat on the coffee table for you. You take one shaky sip and realize you’re a lot thirstier than you though you were. You drain it in a few big gulps. Ellie straightens up with a sense of having something right. 

“I’ll go get some more,” she says, taking the cup from you. 

Creaks arise on the porch soon after she heads to the kitchen. Then comes the faint jingling of keys. Joel pushes through the front door with a concerned furrow between his brows. It smooths when his eyes fall on you sitting in the living room. 

You look as small as you feel.

Aside from the absence of the sparkle that usually shone in your eyes, you seem as alright as you can be. Which is a much better than the image he’d conjured up in his head, despite Tommy insisting you’d made it back in one piece. 

“Hey,” he greets, carefully, like he’s talking to animal seconds away from curling in on itself. Like that’s all the bass he can muster into his voice.

“Hi,” you murmur, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it up. His hair is curled at his ears and a little disheveled when he takes his hat off. 

The floor creaks under his footsteps as he walks to occupy Ellie’s former place. Without uttering a single word, he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

You press your nose into his shirt like there’s no other place it belongs. He smells faintly of sweat, but mostly of the outdoors. Like air and earth. Breath and constance. Life. So warm, you forget all about the chill that has crept into the room. 

Ellie’s relieved to walk back in to the sight of Joel sitting with you. Your eyes have fluttered closed, so you only hear the sound of the refilled glass being set on the table. Joel meets the girl’s gaze with an appreciative nod. Thanks, kid. You did good. 

“I’m supposed to volunteer at craft night, but I can stay,” she offers. 

You peek up from Joel’s chest. “It’s okay.” 

“Are you sure?” She asks, and you nod. 

“Thank you,” you say honestly. 

“I’ll make you something cool,” she promises. 

When the door clicks shut behind her, silence settles between you and Joel as you rest in his arms. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, the faint, steady beating of his heart. It says he’s here, you’re here. 

Even with your body cradled in his arms, the thought of losing you haunts his consciousness. Makes tension root through his shoulders, until he takes one long inhale and lets it out. As if shedding the remnants of fear, and dispelling it from his being. 

You can feel him letting his anxiety go, only for it to manifest as guilt within your own chest. 

“We were being careful,” you say, then swallow because the next words are harder to get out,  “They—they came out of nowhere.” 

Apology plagues your tone, and he knows he’s the reason why.  

On more than one occasion, perhaps to his own fault, Joel expressed that he’d rather you not patrol. There were countless volunteer opportunities around the commune, but after meeting him, you expressed your desire to start going out again. 

For the first couple months, you were only ever partnered with Joel because he insisted. It became something you did together, getting to protect the people you love and absorb the beauty of Jackson beyond the commune limits. 

Slowly, he came around to the idea of you being partnered with different people as he picked up other volunteer work.  

Now that you’d had your first close call, you can’t help but consider the possibility that Joel had seen a certain weakness within you all along. Maybe you aren't as vigilant as you thought, or a skilled shooter, or truly capable of holding your own. If it had been Joel, the Clickers probably wouldn’t even of made it within a thirty yard radius before they were shot down—

“Sweetheart? Hey, look at me,” he pulls away so he knows he has your attention. Except, he hasn’t exactly pieced together what he wants to say. 

After releasing a breath, he meets your gaze with an apologetic look of his own. 

“I know you were careful.” His tone is warm with sincerity. “You ain’t gotta justify anything to me.” When you don’t say anything, he keeps talking, “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” His dark eyes are earnest, hopeful as they flit across your face. 

You nod, and he wants to believe you’ve let his words sink in. 

“There ain’t a single person in this commune who knows what’s gonna happen when they step outside those gates,” he says. “Best thing anyone can be is prepared, and that’s exactly what you were out there today.”

Joel’s not expecting a response, but he can tell he’s finally gotten through. 

He takes your hand in his and presses soft kisses over your knuckles. After letting go, he eases off the couch to kneel at your feet. You admire the slight hunch of his shoulders as he moves to untie your boots, the delicate way he handles the laces as if they’re somehow a fragile extension of you. 

When he’s done, you angle your feet to make it easier for him to pull the boots off. Even then, he doesn’t stand up. He stays on his knees so you’re eye to eye. 

“How’s a shower sound?” He gently squeezes your knee and waits to follow your lead. 

It’s an illusion of control he’s offering for your sake. Really, it’s all him. After everything today, all you want to do is let go. Follow someone you know you can trust. Someone who always knows how to lead the way.

•••

Joel gets the shower started and, before long, both of you have stripped to your undergarments. He watches as you begin to pull your sports bra over your head, and helps you on the tail end because the strong elastic won’t set you free. 

You don’t meet his gaze again until after you’ve stepped out of your panties. Joel’s eyes rove over you with a quiet, fond attentiveness, and you realize he’s looking for bruises or any sign you’re in pain. 

“I’m okay,” you manage a small smile. 

“Okay,” he says, then runs a hand through his hair as if he still hasn’t quite accepted that you are. His bicep flexes as he does. The expanse of his chest is broad, dusted with dark hair. 

“I promise.” 

Finally, he nods like he believes you. “Go ahead and get in. See you shivering.” The bathroom hasn’t quite warmed up yet, and the window is drafty. Joel makes a mental note to get it resealed. 

You waist no time doing just that. A deep hum escapes you as the water meets your skin. 

From behind the curtain, you can make out the outline of Joel’s figure as he pushes his boxers down his legs. Over the sound of the running water, you can just barely hear him gathering your clothes to go put them in the hamper. 

When he joins you, there’s a gentleness to the way he lathers your body with soap. A diligence. The steam lifting around you carries the light, earthy scent of lemon balm. You let him run the bath sponge along your arms as the warm spray of the shower patters onto your back. 

When he’s done, you wrap your arms around him so the front of your bodies are pressed together. Without pause, he graces the sponge across your shoulderblades before gliding it down your back. He continues all the way down the curve of your backside. You pucker your lips against the front of his shoulder in a pert kiss. He kisses your forehead in return. 

It’s a miracle your legs have held you up thus far. If you were to let yourself go limp, a small part of you likes to believe you’d somehow float. That’s how relaxed you feel. But you have half a mind not to test the theory. The thought makes you chuckle, and Joel peeks down at you with a budding smile of his own. 

“What?” he asks lightly, but you shake your head and close your eyes. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” 

“‘M’not,” you murmur. 

Joel hums in feigned disbelief.  “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” He puts a hand on your hip in a silent request for you to turn around. 

When you do, he snakes an arm around your waist. Behind you, he’s a promise. All muscle, warmth, and wet skin. He runs the sponge over your breasts before dipping down to gently run along the undersides.

Your eyes flutter closed again, just as he presses his soft lips to the pulse beating beneath your ear. The shiver that tumbles down your spine makes you lean back into him, and he’s right there holding you up, getting you clean, weaving you so surely into the fabric of the present. 

He lets you do the same for him. Allows himself to relish the gentleness of your touch. 

Touching his forehead to yours, his voice is thick as he whispers, “Glad you’re okay.” 

The two of you stay in the shower long after you’re clean. 

Until the water runs cold. 

•••

The mattress dips as Joel crawls into his side of the bed. Per your request, candles burn on both of your nightstands, bright enough to provide a glow to see each other’s faces. His warmth is behind you before long, chest to your back as he drapes an arm over your waist. It’s a reminder that he’ll never let go. 

The room is quiet aside from your breaths and the occasional creaks of the walls. You rest a hand over Joel’s to run your thumb over his skin and along the bumps of his knuckles. 

“I’m terrible,” you say all of a sudden. Joel shifts behind you, prepared to counter even without the full context, but you continue, “I never asked about your day.”

Joel gives you a squeeze. “Probably would’ve bored you to half to death anyways.” 

A small smile buds on your face. “Half alive is better than nothing,” you say. 

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating straight into you. You’d wage wars to hear that sound. Cross oceans to reach it again. Joel feels you shake with a small laugh of your own, and it further solidifies that you’re going to be alright. 

“Let’s see,” he decides to humor you after a brief moment of silence. You turn around in his arms and touch your feet to his beneath the sheets.

“Everything went well at the stables,” he says. “Alamo's doing a lot better. Stopped by the Tipsy Bison to tell Clyde on my way home.” You can hear the tiredness in his voice, making it gruffer. 

“Aww, really?” 

Joel hums and places a hand on your hip. He draws smalls circles with his thumb. 

“He’s such a beautiful horse,” you think aloud. His coat is as black as the night. 

“I’m starting to notice a pattern,” you slip your hand beneath the hem of Joel’s shirt to splay over his side.

“What might that be?” he asks. 

“You making everything better. People, animals...” 

Joel huffs an amused breath through his nose, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe not everything, but he sure as hell knows he’ll never stop showing up. 

You scoot closer to him and allow your lips to find his amid the candlelight. Slow and steady like you’ve got forever. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

Check out the From Here on Out Masterlist for more of this reader and Joel.

GENERAL MASTERLIST

[oceantornadoo]

too sweet (simon riley x f!reader, possessiveness turned into fluff)

"i don't know why you keep coming back here."

you poured him a whiskey, neat, and slid it across the table. simon caught it with grace, signaling his thanks by lifting the glass your way. he raised it to his scarred lips and your breath caught in your chest, captivated by the way his throat moved as he swallowed his drink. shaking yourself out of that haze, you busied yourself with cleaning the bartop. "jus' like to keep watch." he murmured over the low din of bar chatter.

"thought we weren't dating." you said nonchalantly. "we're not." he was leaning over the counter now, making searing eye contact. "then why-"

"'scuse me." a man appeared, raising his two fingers to signal an order. you closed your mouth, ending the conversation effectively, and put on your customer service smile. "what can i get you?" he smiled, and you noticed he had a nice one. you had been too caught up in simon at first realize the stranger was quite attractive. "gin and tonic, ma'am." the nicety made you smile, his low southern accent quite endearing.

simon turned towards the stranger, pissed off your conversation was cut short. he’s as american as apple pie, all southern charm and a moonshine smile. "fuckin’ yank." simon grumbles, turning back to his drink. you try to hide a grin at his annoyance, ducking to find a clean glass for the stranger’s drink.

you pour it in front of him, years of practice letting the gin out of the bottle with a giant flourish. he gives you another one of those charming smiles, teeth so white he could be in a toothpaste ad. “wouldn’t peg you for a gin and tonic kind of guy.” you try to talk to patrons for a good tip, toeing the line of flirty. with simon’s pissed off mood, refusing to label the two of you and choosing to act like a guard dog at the same time, you decide to have a little fun. at the end of the night, you’ll hopefully get an orgasm with either guy you choose.

“and what kinda guy would’ya peg me for?” he leans on the counter, calloused hands raised loosely to grab his drink. he pulls it to his mouth sensually, drinking half in one go. his tongue darts out to clean a stray drop, all while his eyes sparkle in the dim light of the bar. you grow bold, left hand reaching to touch the brim of the actual cowboy hat he’s wearing. you rub your thumb over the edge for just a second, then bring it back down to your bar counter. “mint julep. maybe an old fashioned.” he laughed at that and you could practically feel the laser eyes simon is sending your way. an old fashioned is one of his go to’s, right after his whiskey (neat), something he orders without fail. and for you to casually throw that around? you obviously didn’t understand your agreement.

“just cause of the accent don’t mean i’m a mint julep kinda man. too sweet for my taste.” he drained the other of his drink and you watched his throat work, strong neck muscles straining. “another?” he cocked his head, assessing. “surprise me, sugar.” you giggled and simon stood up, chair squeaking with the weight of him. you cocked an eyebrow. no way he was giving up that easy. “goin’ for a smoke.” you nodded and he disappeared, like his namesake. you plopped the drink down in front of your stranger, and much to your delight, he gave you a genuine laugh. “i’ll be damned, a long island iced tea. you just got yourself a 30% tip, sweetheart.” you smirked. “all these nicknames and i still don’t know your name.” he eyed your name tag. “you’ve got a pretty one yourself.” you cocked your head, waiting. “philip graves. pleasure’s all mine.”

simon was stewing. did you not understand that once you fucked, you were his? you were claimed, he belonged to you as much as you belonged to him. he even had the bite mark to prove it. so he'd wait, like a good soldier. he could wait for eternity.

you figured simon had left. it was two hours later, and graves was still at your bar, flirting up a storm. he had nursed the long island awhile, a bit tipsy but nothing more. if simon wanted to give up and leave you at the first sign of competition, fine. all the more reason to go home with the cute stranger who'd been sending you looks all night. your shift was ending and graves noticed you wiping down the counters and counting out your till. "that guy earlier yours?" you shook your head. finally. you'd been waiting for this all night. "don't have a guy. i'm a free agent." he hummed thoughtfully. "can i walk you home?" you smirked. "sure."

you were walking out the door with graves when you felt it. a dark presence just outside the bar, lurking in the alleyway. simon. in a flash, your walking buddy was against the alley wall, simon's forearm pinning him to it. "y'r gonna walk y'rself home and never come back. copy?" graves seemed to be weighing his options, eyes darting from yours to simon's. seemingly, he decided you weren't worth it (bitch), and nodded to simon. "copy." simon pressed him harder into the wall, then let him go. graves walked off without a second look back, oozing sliminess that seemed to be hidden by the bar lighting.

your feet kept moving towards your apartment, ignoring the glowering man behind you. no one asked him to go all caveman, yet here he was. his steps echoed behind you, making them heavy on purpose so you could hear him. always so calculated. "stop." you kept walking. "said stop." you turned down your street instead. "baby, please."

you spun on your heel, marching towards the imposing figure he cut in the night. "you can't call me that." simon cocked his head at the finger you pressed into his chest. "why not?" a frustrated breath of air passed your lips. "because we're not dating. that's what you said." he stepped closer, your finger on his chest turning into a splayed hand to keep him away. "you were goin' t' leave with him." you shook your head. "you don't get to say that. you left." he pushed closer until he was towering over you, hands finding your waist. "was jus' waitin' f' you." some force moved your hand up his chest to find his neck, thumb brushing his pulse point. "you're so stupid." he squeezed your waist in admonishment. "an' y'r bossy." you squeezed his neck back in a fake choke. "you gonna kiss your girlfriend? you seem to be all talk no-" and he shut you up with a kiss.

--

um so i hate this. but it's been in my drafts for months so:

[desperate-gay]

Would you write for Aitana, it would probably work for another Spaniard like Alexia since she's also cold averse, if not.

My thought is that r is from some colder climate country and takes player back to their country to celebrate the holidays, and player is constantly freezing and like demanding cuddles and kisses to "keep warm". Fireplace cuddles, cute snowy moments, meeting the fam, and just fluff all around.

Frost Bite

Aitana Bonmati x fem!reader

summary: your girlfriend has never been to the states during christmas, and boy does she have some problems with it

“You guys live here voluntarily?” Aitana asks in disbelief, already shivering from the New York winter’s breeze.

“I lived here, last time I checked I now live with you in sunny Barcelona. Now please help me with our bags, Tana.” You correct, dragging two heavy suitcases out of the taxi cab’s trunk while your girlfriend rushes to your side after previously hugging herself in an attempt to warm up.

The tip of your nose is already beet red from just the few minutes of standing outside. Aitana and you are both bundled up in thick coats and hats, already prepared for the intense change of weather. Your breath can be seen entering the air as you softly knock on the door that used to be called home years ago.

“You guys are finally here!” Your mom squeals after nearly ripping the door open off its hinges. She quickly pulls you into a tight hug you can’t exactly return due to your hand still holding onto your suitcase.

“As much as I have missed you, we are terribly freezing out here.” You hint with a smile, causing your mom to gasp in realization and pull both you and your girlfriend into the warm atmosphere of the house.

Aitana sighs in relief as the heat washes over her body, not at all being used to the drop in temperature. You both take off everything that can be hung on the coat rack and what can be left by the door in order to move further into the room.

Your oldest brother along with his wife sit on the large sofa, enjoying whatever is playing on the TV. While your other brother who is only a year younger than you lays on the floor, wrestling with the two family dogs. Then you have your eldest sister with her husband both smushed on the chair, and finally, your youngest sister in the kitchen, helping your mom and dad.

Your girlfriend has already met your family plenty of times, having been dating for 5 years. She never feels awkward or out of place, especially when everyone welcomes her with open arms. Aitana was the first girlfriend you actually brought home to meet your family and thankfully they all adore her.

“Someone decided to finally see her siblings!” Your younger brother, James, jokes while throwing his hands in the air in celebration, causing the dogs to go crazy and tackle him to play.

“Now that is exactly what you get.” You say pointedly, grabbing Aitana’s hand and pulling her over to the dining table which is between both the living room and kitchen.

After a few minutes of catching up and greetings, you both stay seated at the wooden table, watching all your siblings bicker at each other and your mother and father prepare dinner. 

“Are you okay? I know that all the chaos can be a bit overwhelming at times.” You smile sympathetically, realizing you haven’t asked how your girlfriend is feeling since you’ve gotten here.

“Oh please, I live and work with chaos every day, and plus, I love tu pequeña familia.” You smile at the spaniard's words and reach over the wooden surface to hold the soft skin of her hand.

You both look at one another with lovesick smiles etched across both of your faces. Many couples warn about the spark fading after years of being in a relationship, but yours and Aitanas only seem to get brighter with time. Besides the occasional argument here and there, nothing has ever made your love for each other dim.

“So Aitana, have you been using your English over in Spain?” Your mother asks behind the counter, cutting off your little love bubble. 

Your mother always teases her for forgetting some English when she visits because she never really speaks it over at home. You are usually the one who speaks Spanish in order to communicate better with your Barcelona team.

Aitana blushes in deep red, knowing her answer won’t be satisfying. “Uh, yes?” The brunette says in her thick accent, trying to make your mother happy by speaking in the language.

“She so has not. Keira and I try to get it out of her after every game so she can use it in post-conferences.” You intervene at your girlfriend’s obvious lie, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, watching as the girl’s jaw across from you drops in disbelief.

“Traidora.” Your girlfriend gasps, continuing to stare you down with squinted eyes as you just smirk in response.

After an hour or two, dinner is all finished and everyone is packing up to go to their own destinations. You and Aitana are staying at the house considering you live a few countries away along with your younger sister who is on college break. Your parents have made sure you’re both settled in your once-old bedroom which is now a guest bed. 

“As much as I love and treasure my family, they sure can be exhausting.” You huff while dramatically falling backward on the bed in a starfish position, bouncing up and down from the springs.

“I thought everything went well.” The brunette shrugs, folding the rest of her clothes to put in the dresser.

“I never said it didn’t go well, I said it was exhausting. Two different scenarios.” You sit up on your elbow with your head resting in your hand so you can watch your girlfriend.

“Meh meh meh.” Aitana mocks, smiling when she sees your offended expression.

You dramatically sigh, flopping right back down on the bed and turning around to make your back face your girlfriend in fake offense. The creak of floorboards approaches you slowly, making you smile in triumph to see your plan to get the spaniard’s attention is working.

“Muy bien, mi amor, tú ganas.” Her arms wrap around your midsection, forcing you to roll over onto your back so the brunette can have a good look at you.

“Siempre gano.” You peck her nose and flip your bodies around so you’re now resting on top of her lap. “So tomorrow we will be going downtown to see the huge christmas tree, and then we will maybe go window shopping, play in the snow, maybe even ice skating-”

“-No, no skating. I may be good with my legs in football but on ice? Absolutamente no.” She declares, rubbing her hands up and down your thighs, sending waves of heat through your body at the simple touch.

“Alright, no ice skating, got it.” You fake solute, bringing a smile across your girlfriend’s face.

“Besides that, everything sounds magnífico. I just can’t wait.” You quirk your eyebrow when she begins to sit up more with you and inch her hands higher up your thigh. “So why don’t we fill in the time we have, sí?” She husks before sharply flipping you both once again so she now hovers over your body.

“My parents are just down the stairs, and my sister is across the hall.” You say in a hushed voice but a smile is still engraved across your face.

“Mmm your parents are downstairs sleeping, and your sister is across the hall also sleeping.” Aitana says, kissing your neck in all the right spots that she’ll know will make you cave.

“I don’t know-”

“Just be quiet bebé.”

—

“Tana, I have to go grab our drinks.” You laugh as the girl continues to latch onto your arm, acting as if you’re her only source of heat, even in the cozy cafe.

The spaniard is bundled up in a large coat, which makes her frame look extremely small, gloves, a scarf, and a beanie hat. Granted, she isn’t used to the weather, being in a warm cafe should help her with cooling down.

“Here you go, baby. There’s a seat over there.” You say, handing her the warm beverage and pointing over to the corner of the room.

You both sit in comfortable silence while talk fills the busy cafe. Aitana has finally taken off her gloves and instead uses the hot chocolate as her hand warmer. You’re both around the same height and size but with her being shriveled up, she looks abnormally cute and small.

“I don’t know how you do this. Siento como si mi anillo de la nariz se estuviera congelando.” Aitana exaggerates, taking another sip of her drink, and letting the hot liquid warm down her throat.

“You know, you seem to speak a lot of spanish when you’re cold. Should I expect this when we play out in the snow?”

��La nieve? Oh no no no, mi vida. We are not playing in the snow.” Your girlfriend replies bluntly, shivering at the thought of touching the cold surface.

“What? That was part of our plans.” You frown sadly, having been looking forward to showing the girl a huge part of what it was like growing up here in winter.

“Not happening.” The brunette shakes her head, sounding as if she has already made her decision.

You felt an overwhelming sense of sadness replacing your once contentment. Aitana seems to notice it as she watches you go quiet and stare longingly outside where families sprinkle snow at one another, laughing in cheer.

“Alright, fine, but you owe me so many kisses and hugs. Deal?” Aitana rasps, willing to do anything to make you happy, even if it means almost freezing to death in the fluffy ice.

“Deal!”

A bright smile plasters on your face, making the girl across from you chest flutter in delight, loving nothing more than your radiating happiness. Aitana basically goons at you with heart eyes. Any person who shared half the amount of love as you two would be considered extremely lucky.

After finishing your drinks, you drag a begrudgingly Aitana out of the cozy building into the crisp air. The brunette swears she can feel her insides frost up when the cool wind hits her.

“Over there! There’s a bunch of people making snowmen.” You exclaim, continuing your tug on the spaniard, wanting to claim your space before anyone else can.

“I don’t know how to do this.” Aitana admits, standing awkwardly on the side as you begin to pack a snowball to roll.

“I’ll teach you then.” You smile as you place the ball of snow back on the ground. “All we have to do now is roll this ball around so more snow can stick and gather to it so it becomes bigger.” Your girlfriend nods her head before taking a deep breath and rubbing her gloved hands together, preparing herself for a bit of coldness.

Once she gets the hang of it, she begins to smile in joy, knowing she’s doing something you love with you and actually being able to do it. You begin to make another ball for the middle of the snowman’s body as Aitana continues rolling the bottom.

“We did it.” Aitana grins cheerfully, looking at your standing creation.

“Ah, we’re not done yet. Oo, there’s some twigs over there.” You stomp off, leaving your girlfriend standing confused and watching you longingly.

You come back merely seconds later with two sticks in your hands. The brunette looks at you confused when you extend your arm, handing her one of the brown twigs. She hesitantly accepts it but continues to stand there in silence.

“There we go.” You smile triumphantly after sticking the twig deep into the frozen ball before nodding at your girlfriend to do the same but on the other side.

“He’s complete, no?” 

“As complete as we can make him for now.”

“So, we can go back to the house now?” You look over at the girl with a quirked eyebrow, taking in her sheepish smile and rosy cheeks. 

Rolling your eyes in defeat you agree, making the girl pump her fists in victory. You shake your head amusingly before locking arms and starting your walk home.

—

“Thank you for humoring me and playing in the snow.” You whisper, cuddling into your girlfriend’s side while watching the fireplace flicker.

Your parents and sister had left to go to some neighborhood christmas party while you and Aitana decided to stay back. You both now lay on the cozy couch in the living room, warming up in front of the fireplace as the TV plays some cheesy Hallmark movie.

“I was not humoring you. I wanted to make you happy and also see your fun but cold traditions.”

You move your head off her shoulder and face her with a big grin. Aitana and you both lean in halfway into a soft and passionate kiss, locking lips tenderly and rubbing your hands slowly against one another’s skin. When you pull away, Aitana chases after your lips in despair, not wanting the kiss to end quite yet.

“Tu prometiste besos.” The spaniard grumbles in fake irritation, wanting to connect your lips once more.

“I also promised cuddles which I will be giving you now, miss grumpy pants.” You tease, pushing her to lay back against the couch so you can sink in front of her, allowing her arm to wrap around your waist.

“That will be mrs. grumpy pants soon.” Aitana mumbles under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, mi amor. Let’s watch this movie that has the same plot as the twenty others we have already watched.”

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄! | sagau lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: theme of obsessiveness, yandere (big surprise!!) lyney + wrio's part mentions past abuse, all the stuff that comes as a side to this au !! ngl neuvillette's part is pretty tame he's literally. just a guy (otter)

⤷ [ you, the heavenly being who created celestia itself, has descended upon teyvat in an earthly form. a god, or at least, theirs. ]

— sagau!lyney has always lived to be beheld by the eye.

Displays of extravagance, bouquets of flowers and pairs of white doves fluttering from his finger tips. Yes, that was where he belonged, standing on his place at the center of the stage, bright lights fixed on his form as he swept in his arm in a wide bow towards his beloved audience. Listening to their adoring cheers and drinking it all in - their support, the fame, their fanatic attention.

Attention was always something he had yearned for. Cold days exist in his memory, where he wandered the street aimlessly, pale skin littered with growing purple bruises, his only refuge the light tug of Lynette's soot-stained hands clinging onto what rags he wore. In those times, he remembers, a faint voice from above, angelic and holy, soft and compassionate.

A voice that was, in fact, yours. You had stared with wide eyes at your device as the cutscene began, instantly overcome with emotion. "Lyney, Lynette... was this how you had been living? Goddamn, I know every character in this game has a tragic backstory, but look at them!! They're... they're precious!! Wahhh, I want to take you in... Lyney, you better come home..." They were merely throwaway comments that you had blurted out in the shelter of your room, absolutely fixated on their pretty character designs and the dwindling number of primogems your inventory held. Not only had you lost the 50/50 to Qiqi herself, you were now nearing hard pity, and the charming magician was still nowhere in sight. You shut your eyes "Ah... Lyney, how come you-"

Light flickered before your closed eyelids, and you felt the wind tug at your body. Your stomach lurched, oh shit, were you falling..?

"-won't..."

Someone caught you with ease, swift and capable arms holding you, one supporting your back and the other hefting both your legs. Twinkling purple eyes met yours. "Ah, are you alright?" You quickly shook your head, too shaken to speak words at the moment. Surveying your surroundings only brought another wave of confusion - strange buildings, glittering blue lakes and trees, an unfamiliar landscape... Your gaze shifted, and you caught the sight of uncanny ash blond hair, and the hat that sat atop it. Lyney?

He hummed in acknowledgement. "So, you've just fallen from the sky." There was no way in mistaking his voice. "Is there an explanation behind that, or...?"

"I...I- I don't know why I'm here...!" You stuttered, and he visibly flinched at your voice, eyes widening. Shit, had you done something wrong? You trembled in his arms, attempting to stand by yourself, but he wouldn't let you move from his grasp.

"I see." His voice was quiet, now, and came in a single breath. His pupils shook as he closed his eyes in a smile. "Then, shall I bring you somewhere where you'll be safe?"

His heart was racing, pounding against his chest, and he could hardly breath, instead taking in short, desperate little gasps that did little to keep him standing. You.

It was a voice he swore he'd never let escape his recollection, and now there was a face, and touch to pair it with. He smile widened, and his eyes shined with pure ecstasy. It was you, in the flesh, his archon, his god, the highest being. Your body was holy, and he longed to praise it, his dark heart being cleansed just by bathing in your presence. Yet you seemed so fragile in his arms, how cute... it wouldn't be fair to keep you to himself, but being selfish is what allowed him to get this far. Like a songbird in a cage, he'd trap you, admire you, worship you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you could feel his smile's sweet grow more sickening every beat of silence that passed. "No, What? I-"

His hand struck the back of your neck. Your voice died as your eyes fluttered shut. And in that moment Lyney pressed a kiss to both of your closed lids, a tender touch that one might describe as "loving", but what truly lie beneath it was far more twisted. His heart beat only for you, and red flushed across his cheeks.

"There's no need to worry, my eminence. I'll put on a show, just for your delight." ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!neuvillette has always yearned for warmth.

A warmth is not present in the courts of Fontaine. There, it is cold, sharp, the biting frigidness numbing the hearts of people - those who stand before him in trial, and those who watch with glee in the crowd, awaiting his final verdict with bated breaths.

Neuvillette was most renowned for his judgement. But it was his own that was a critical flaw. For what truly was judgement? Had he been justified in casting a murderer, in some eyes, but a hero in others, into the Fortress of Meropide? A mere child, who just sought for warmth, just as he had? He fears his heart has also grown cold and indifferent to the world, and he despises himself for it.

Was it not your warm hand that stroked him lovingly so back then, a quiet, soothing touch that swept away the tears and the salt that clung to his cheeks? Was it not your voice who called out to him on those ever so lonely nights, humming an otherworldly tune as your ghostly visage wiped the sorrow that flowed his downcast eyes? Yes, truly. It was your warmth that caused his eyes to glow anew, your warmth that allowed his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears to flush with contentment.

"Oh, wise ludex! This man is a murder! He stole not only my mother's assets, but my mother's life!" The crowd gasped at the dramatic declaration, their gazes shifting back and forth, from the perpetrator to the "witness." "I will dearly miss her... this man, no, this monster, took my mother away by hitting her over the head with none other than a bludgeon!"

Neuvillette's eyes widened. "Mr... Lucas."

"Y-Yes, ludex?"

"It was never disclosed to the public of what weapon the killer used."

The crowd erupted into a series of sharp inhales, surprised noises muffled by a hand over the mouth, round eyes as large as dinner plates, and frantic head turning. Journalists scribbled frantically in their notebooks, sweat pouring from their faces as they stumbled upon their newest cash cow.

"The verdict. Mr. Lucas is found to be guilty."

And they cheered. For what? Neuvillette narrowed his eyes just a fraction, his displeasure rising. They knew nothing. They were just mindless puppets, willing themselves to follow the sway of the crowd, praising and applauding something that naught needed its praise.

A sensation came over him, like the soft caress and flutter of an angel's wings or a soft, sweet sigh escaping from pouting, half-opened lips. The man snapped his head up, hearing the glass behind him shatter and plummet downwards like crystal raindrops, but what verily sent his heart apounding was the sight of a figure, dressed in heavenly silks, bathed in golden light, and descending into the courtroom. He drank it all in with a bated breath, hearing that for once, the crowd was silence.

You landed in his arms. Beautiful. He almost didn't dare move with you in his arms, in fear of his legs giving way underneath him. Your head lulled into his chest, eyes shut, and your pure, unbridled warmth finally met him, finally doused him in its prescence.

"Your... your eminence..." His voice was a mere echo, quiet, containing little sound at all. "I..."

"To you who has granted me such the blessing of warmth, I shall repay with all of my heart." ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!wriothesley has always wanted... someone to hold him.

It's a selfish thing to long for, and a silent one. Who would pay any heed to a duke's ramblings? Love's a thought that he's never quite fully digested, almost as if he can't truly believe it exists. Of course, he's seen Fontaine's couples, strolling up and down the street, hand-in-hand, yet questions himself in what makes them able to love each other. Perhaps it wasn't his problem with them, but more so a problem with himself.

Ah, that was it.

His heart already belonged to someone, someone he had heard once and never witnessed again. Like the softest breath of the wind, or a joyful child's laughter, it brushed through his soul and soothed it, held it in its arms, and fussed over his messy hair and bruised skin. At times, Wriothesley wondered if it was all a dream, for only something that angelic, mesmerizing could not stem from reality. However, as young as he was in those years, he cannot deny the fact that in his dark days - it was your mysterious voice that carried him into the life, your presence that gave him the wings to continue living.

Yes, since that day, his every breath, every flutter of his eyes and every pump of blood that rushed anew into his veins from his heart was solely for the purpose of meeting you once more.

Another typical day at the Fortress of Meropide - paperwork strewn all over his once-organized desk, a cooled cup of tea sitting next to where his hand lie, the other furiously writing away on the said paper. He ran a hand through his hair, grumbling into his palm as he briefly shut his eyes... only to shoot them back upon in a start as he heard the sound of something crashing against the walls, and the sound of paper, flying everywhere akin to a bird.

There was someone, lying, or rather, sprawled across his desk. Dizzy-eyed and muttering something intelligible, a growing red spot on their forehead gradually becoming increasingly more visible. "How did you get in here?" He's immediately put up his defenses, readying his gloves as he steps over - with quiet remorse - the papers that now blanket the ground.

"...Wh...Where am I?"

That. That voice.

Has he stopped breathing? He can feel all the blood rush to his head, and he can hardly think a single coherent thought, only focusing on the rush in his ears, the shaking of his hands, and the sight of you before him, dressed simply in sleepware and glancing around frantically. Gorgeous. Ethereal. The mere sight of you before him had spurred his heart into an erratic, fanatic pace, beating within his body like he'd die if it slowed down.

"Is... Is something wrong?" He was taken aback at the hand waving over his eyes, before settling back into position, realizing that you had been trying to speak with him for the past half-minute in his zoned-out state. Could you see it? The sin that was clearly displayed in his every breath, in his every inch of being?

"No, nothing's wrong." You seemed to have calmed down somewhat, and while your eyes were still filled with confusion, you tilted your head at his words. How come he was smiling...?

"Ah, then about that question-"

"Home. You're home. And this is where you'll be staying, forever." ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) ugh i swear to god i hate every single thing ive ever written for wriothesley he seems so yucky and out of character WJODJKFLJDSMF>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[girllblogging777]

𝑊𝐼𝐶𝐾𝐸𝐷𝐿𝑌 𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅𝑆 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x fem!reader (halloween special !)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 : 1.2k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : no plot, just being the hottest couple at the party

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the slytherin common room was absolutely buzzing tonight. halloween decorations hung from every corner, enchanted green and silver banners weaving from the ceiling and an eerie mist hovered just above the floor. the party was already wild, drinks being passed around and music thumping so hard you could feel it in your chest, without even having stepped in yet.

you glanced over at mattheo, who was grinning at you like the troublemaker he was. he pulled you closer, one arm snaking possessively around your waist and you couldn’t help but laugh. he looked incredible tonight, wearing his costume and usual confidence as proudly as ever. you had convinced him to go all out for a couple’s costumes and after weeks of playful nagging, he finally gave in. now here you were, matching outfits and knowing full well the two of you you looked like absolute icons.

“i can’t believe i let you talk me into this” your boyfriend teased against your ear as you both stood at the entrance, scanning the room. you smirked back “come on, admit it. you love it.”

he didn’t deny it, his eyes flickering down to your own costume, taking in every detail. “alright fine, you look…. ridiculously good. almost too good, actually.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t suppress the he grin that was spreading across your face. the common room was already full of people and as soon as you stepped in, heads started turning. people couldn’t help but stare - some at mattheo, but a lot of them at you. you could feel their gazes on your tight costume, accompanied by your confident and angelic face.

mattheo, noticing the attention, squeezed your waist a little tighter. “let’s go make an entrance” he said with a mischievous grin.

the two of you moved through the crowd and it felt like every eye was on you. of course, your boyfriend thrived off of it but this time, so did you. his hand didn’t leave your body for a second, his touch grounding and reassuring, as if daring anyone to try and steal a moment with you.

the party was in full swing. your best friend theo had already downed who-knows-how-many drinks and was sloppily dancing on a table, a witch’s hat perched sideways on his head. you stifled a laugh when he spotted you and mattheo, eyes going wide like he was seeing the stars.

“oh merlin ! there they are !” theo yelled over the music, nearly tipping over his drink. “the hottest couple at hogwarts !” he jumped down from the table and stumbled towards you, throwing an arm around both of you. “look at you two, unreal. you’re killing me.”

mattheo chuckled, helping his mate steady himself “you’re drunk already.”

he shook his head dramatically in return “i’m not drunk…. i’m enchanted. you two are goals” theo whispered in your ear, loudly enough for half the room to hear.

you rolled your eyes and smiled “come on, nott. save the theatrics”

but obviously, he wasn’t done yet. “you guys better win best costume again this year or i’m burning the place down.”

“go enjoy your drink, theo.” your boyfriend laughed, practically shoving him back towards the table.

as soon as he was gone, mattheo turned to you, “we really are killing it tonight, love. goals, apparently.” he declared with a wide grin.

you raised an eyebrow teasingly. “are you finally admitting that the couple’s costume was a good idea ?”

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “i might have to agree… as long as you keep looking at me like that.”

you didn’t even have time to respond before you felt pansy, one of your closest friends, grab you hand and pull you toward the dance floor. “you two look amazing but it’s time to get out here !” she shouted over the music, her hips already swaying to the beat. she tossed a glance back at mattheo. “bring your man, he’s not getting out of dancing on halloween !”

mattheo groaned before sending you a wink, “go ahead. i’ll grab us some drinks and meet you in a minute”

you nodded and let pansy drag you into the middle of the room, surrounded by dozens of people dancing wildly and completely lost in the music. the energy was electric tonight and for the first time in a while, you felt totally free. you caught a few more lingering stares from other students and it only fed the buzzing energy in you. this was your night and with your boyfriend by your side, you were gonna have the best time ever.

a few minutes later, mattheo appeared with drinks in hand, sliding up next to you as if he belonged there. he handed you one and and grinned.

“you look like you’re having fun.”

“i am having fun,” you shot back, taking a sip. “and you’re going to dance with me.”

he pretended to groan, but there was no hesitation when he set his drink down and pulled you close, his hands settling on your hips. the music thumped around you, bodies swaying together, and the room seemed to fall away as you danced, matteo’s movements matching yours effortlessly. his eyes never left yours, a playful heated look in them that made your pulse race.

“you love this, don’t you?” you asked, leaning up to speak into his ear, your lips brushing the side of his face.

“what? you or the attention?” he smirked, knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

you playfully shoved his chest. “both.”

he laughed, the sound deep and warm, pulling you closer, his hands gripping your waist just a little tighter. “you’re right. i love all of it.”

the night went by, a long blur of dancing, laughter, and lots of drinks. at one point, theo tried to drag the entire room into some sort of a choreography—unsuccessfully, though that didn’t stop him from trying. pansy was somewhere near the bar, making outrageous bets with some hufflepuffs that had wandered in, and every time you caught a glimpse of her, she was in the middle of a new drink-fueled challenge.

you and mattheo didn’t leave each other’s side for the rest of the night. even as the party got crazier, you two remained locked into each other, moving in sync, laughing at the madness around you, kissing between songs like you couldn’t stand to be apart for even a second.

at one point, mattheo pulled you away from the dance floor, backing you up against a wall, his hands on either side of you, blocking out the noise of the party. “having fun?” he asked, that familiar, cocky grin back on his face.

your heart raced as you looked up at him, feeling the heat between you two. “you know i am.”

he leaned down, his lips brushing yours before he whispered, “good, because i’m not letting anyone else dance with you tonight.”

you laughed, tugging him closer by the front of his shirt. “like i’d want to.”

the rest of the night flew by in a haze of wild fun, your friends in various stages of drunken chaos, and the feeling of mattheo’s arms around you, reminding everyone that you were his and he was yours. wickedly yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @ilovematteoxx @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf

a/n : here’s a little something to begin halloweekend with, leave requests if you have any suggestions !!! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated too, love y’all <3

[narfin-frood]

another little comic abt wander's time as the interim guitarist for ninety ounce nihilists .... i cannot stop thinking abt it

single image spread, transcript, thumbnails & other ramblings under the cut

TRANSCRIPT:

[an empty stage with a ninety ounce nihilists banner hanging from the top. the work lights are on, showing nobody but wander coiling a length of wire onstage. tumbleweed hums to himself as he works, but within a moment, the lights flick off with a loud CLUNK]

TUMBLEWEED: ummm... hey! couldja turn those back on?

[no response, so wander goes back to what he was doing in the dark]

TUMBLEWEED: s'pose not

[a band member appears in the next frame. she has a head like a hammerhead shark]

BAND MEMBER: hey, tumbleweed

TUMBLEWEED: well hi there!

BAND MEMBER: how come you still stick around?

[tumbleweed looks away sheepishly, but he still responds]

TUMBLEWEED: well, you're my friends! mr. threat is, too... he just don't know it yet

BAND MEMBER: ...he hates you. and he treats you like garbage. he's...he's making money off you, and he's not even giving you any credit. much less the cash you generate!!

[tumbleweed shrugs.]

TUMBLEWEED: never expected him to.

BAND MEMBER: wh...well, you should.

[tumbleweed takes his hat off and stuffs the coil of wire inside as he speaks]

TUMBLEWEED: it's alright. i'm doin' him a favor. y'all needed a guitar, n' i happen'ta have one. i don't expect nothin' in return

[the band member glances off stage with a sour expression towards three other members of the band, including major threat himself.]

BAND MEMBER: let me give you a hand.

---

ok so the band member i included doesnt have a name, but here she is in the show, along with the rest of the ninety ounce nihilists, all vaguely middle-aged

i really realllly wanna draw them all when they were active as nozn because i love to dress up funky guys like them. theyre so fun. anyways.

i think wander is the reason nozn breaks up in the first place. they get back together in the future, yeah, after major threat makes up with them, however he goes about that. but like, the comical lengths i think major threat would go through just to keep wander at arm's length would be a tipping point for the rest of the band, because they'd start to realize how poorly they were being treated.

i think the straw that breaks the camel's back would be wander attempting to provide backing vocals and being immediately kicked out of the band. the kicker being that it's for a song he wrote, and all the other members would quickly follow him, because, hey, what the fuck, dude. what did he ever do to you. what did WE do to you for that matter.

ANYWAYYYZZZZ if anybody has like name suggestions for them or anything let me know! honestly i'm defaulting to calling them all different alien variations on trent and reznor because i think it would be funny to do

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

IYCRTTBFO - Joel Miller x reader

Summary/ warmings: dbf! Joel is also a cam model, a lot of masturbation, a lot of dirty talk, nudes, light(ish) daddy kink, sex toy mentions, and use, cunnilingus, filming, creampies, at least two references to Wheeler Walker Jr. songs, big fat age gap, Sara delegated to Joel's niece, author loves dilfs, especially this one, author entered a fugue state and this emerged

You couldn't sleep. It started at college, when you were working part-time while doing your masters thesis. Your night shift ended at 2.30 in the morning. Then, by the time you went to bed, you were struggling to shake off the buzzing energy. Your body was tired, and your mind was elsewhere. So you turned to the only true, tried and tested method of getting yourself to sleep. Masturbation. Low effort, porn video you've already watched, finger rubbing your clit, masturbation. It worked for about a week. Then your "sessions" got longer. And longer. You had to spend an hour now, chasing your orgasm. Begging yourself to cum. Getting more frustrated and then practically passing out like a log. You got good sleep out of it. But also it was getting painful. Your clit would hurt, a short stabbing pain taking your mind off of your thesis critique. Not that you were too keen on hearing about the feedback on your research model. So you were going to quit, cold turkey style. On the one hand, your insomnia persisted. Now you had replaced porn with your self assigned reading. But that did not help you sleep, just made you more cranky. Your cycadian rhythm was fucked beyond belief. So you moved through life half- asleep, always spending your days off napping. Morning meetings were rough and when you slept through an internship interview at 1, you knew enough was enough.

Back to flicking the bean to not be mean. You just figured you needed a change of scenery, so to speak. You considered OnlyFans, ready to be shelling out your hard earned cash for tasteful nudes (perhaps those of Markiplier or something like that). But that wouldn't be personal enough. You tried audio stuff, but the JOIs weren't really catered to you. Yes, they had your kinks. Or the pet names you liked. But never together, never quite enough. And call it conditioning, but you wanted something familiar. A certain Austin draw, a slice of the Texas you were far away from. But alas, your cowboy was not on Quinn or soundgasm. So you went old-school.

Girls like you weren't even supposed to know about camming sites. It was such a retro thing, more of your father's and Joel's generation. But it was thanks to the former's inability to delete a browser history that you were here. The landing page of the website was fine. You had to make the choice of looking at women, men, couples, or the trans category. Craving to see a solo cumshot, you click on "male". You should've expected that even here, it would be geared towards other guys, like most porn was. The tags of the rooms said it all. Anal. Fuckmachine. Party. But as you refreshed the home page again, someone caught your eye. It was a guy in a cowboy hat over his face. His tip goal was simple, promising a glimpse of him shirtless. It was the amount of tokens needed that amazed you, it was so high. Seriously, from your little time on the website, you could see this was a bit too self assured. But he was getting there. You clicked the video, morbid curiosity taking over. This and his username of thicktexanbeercan. A man after your own heart.

People flood in, apparently the red color of their usernames means they're part of a fan club? You wanna learn more, so you click through the whole thing. The "cam boy" or "cam man" or whatever you were supposed to call him was just welcoming people. There were other newbies like you because you were half-listening to him explaining about his mic.

"You can hear me so clearly cause I have it clipped to my neck on a fucking chocker. Which you guys should've let die in the 90s btw." You're looking at his tags of #monster cock, #daddy, #master and #orgasmguide. And when someone voices your thought of "some of us weren't even born in the 90s." you found out why. He reads it out and snorts.

"Look at you, so young and already a pathetic little pervert watching older men. What, daddy didn't love you enough, babydoll? So now you gotta come here at night and tune into me stroking my cock for you. Wishing you were on your knees, trying to take it in your bratty little mouth?". The donations explode. The sound effects of coins reverberate through your headphones. The goal is met and the stream has been on for only 15 minutes. You can't see him smile, but you can feel it, by the way his shoulders relax.

"You're such a good girl tonight, spoiling your old man. So needy, already wanting me to take off my clothes. I will, little slut, just let daddy take care of something first." He rolls his chair to the desk and takes his keyboard. You chuckle at the faded and yellowed stickers on it, they vaguely reminded you of something. The man can touch type and you've never wanted to be a pair of keys more in your life. The goal's adjusted, promising whipped cream on his chest. As he fiddles with the camera angles and wonders aloud how to best give you a show, you hover to his bio tab. The man intrigues you. Under real name, he put “Can't tell you, but my screen name is a pun”, so you guess it's Bud or even Sam Addams. His age is listed as late 40s, and when you see a glimpse of his salt and pepper chest hair, it makes sense.

This guy intrigues you. Instead of rubbing one out, you're scrolling further. There's pictures and videos. While there's one of him wearing assless chaps for free (which quickly gets saved to your phone gallery), the rest is behind a paywall. Videos of him cumming or even simple things like doing push-ups. Your palms are itching and you know your payday is coming soon. But before you end up buying a filthy mp4, you go back to the stream.

Somehow, he had made taking off a flannel sexy. Rubbing his fingers against his chest. Touching his happy trail. Then someone in the chat asked, "How much to see the good stuff?" He reads it out, chuckles, and presses a few keys, making a tip menu appear in the chat. It has the usual stuff, promises of flashing his cock or flexing his biceps. C2C and PMs (which you had learned stood for cam to cam and private messages). Then, was the more personal stuff. Nudes rating (5 photos), praise, degradation, ddlg. He clearly knew what people wanted. Was it what he craved as well, you wondered? Then came "the goods" the other person was probably talking about. Jerking off, cumming, even using a vibrator or a fleshlight on himself.

You wondered how long it would take to see the self-described "thicktexanbeercan.". But thanks to someone just as horny as you, if not more, it would be almost immediately. When the tip for "jerking off" came through, he said the person's username and then asked, "How do I thank you, using my southern charm or Austin dirtbag style?"

When the person replied with "dirtbag style," also my pronouns are she/they."he presumably glanced at the message. Probably keeping eye contact with the camera, he reaches for his belt.

"Thank you for being horny, I guess. Desperate little thing, that doesn't like to wait. Impatient darling, needing to see daddy pump his cock for you. Gonna show you exactly what you wanna see, baby.". The belt is on the ground and his jeans are around his ankles. Never did you think that a guy simply taking off his pants would be so hot. Your gaze trails from his delicious thighs to his boxers. Holy shit, even by his outline you can tell that his username isn't an exaggeration.

He pulls it out and it's the prettiest and biggest cock you've ever seen. His hand wraps around it, one slow pump he thrust into, back arching. Then he folds one arm behind his head and turns straight into the camera. You like the mystery, but wish he would show his face. His voice is breathy, he obviously likes what he's doing. And his thrusts are speeding up.

His chat is going crazy, tokens pouring in.

"You like what you see, huh? Bet you're aching to touch yourself, too. Go on, spread your pretty legs for me, and give me a show, too.". Before you know it, you're following his instructions. Pajama pants quickly pulled down, you touch yourself. And God damn, are you wet. You're fucking dripping, for this stranger on the internet. You don't have time to be embarrassed. You trail a finger against your opening, gathering the slick. Then you touch your clit, rubbing it slow and then gradually speeding up. But it's so much more intense, it's fucking electric. You glance at the clock on your phone. Look back at the man on the stream, his chest, his cock. And in a minute you're cumming. Eyes closed, pussy getting tighter and clenching around nothing orgasm. You close the stream, mortified. You go to bed and have the best sleep of your life.

By the next stream, you have an account, and you follow him. He acknowledges that, and you're tempted to already start touching yourself. But it's a Friday night, you've promised yourself that weekends are for yourself. Seeing that you pushed for Saturdays off, one would think you'd need to be up, bright and early, and going somewhere. But not this time. You had planned a slow day, where you catch up on laundry and read. But before the weekend was this. You caught on to today's stream a bit too late. Your cowboy (a middle-aged man that probably didn't know you existed) was already shirtless. He had a loofah and a mug filled with water next to him.

"One of y'all suggested I try temporary tattoos. Now, I had to go to the grocery store and get weird looks as I pumped quarters in a machine. So you better enjoy them. Or actually, if I find good ones online, I'm adding them to the wishlist.". He moves off camera and holds up two sheets of temporary tattoos, very tribal and barbed wire inspired. The other is surprisingly butterflies and unicorns.

He unbuttons his pants and lowers his boxers. You can see just the tip, straight as a ram rod. You can't help but wonder if he gets off on being watched. Your head gets filled with fantasies of him and you. Embarrassingly you're picturing him pulling out his pecker in a mundane place like Walmart and fucking you in the aisles. Maybe you just need to do better groceries, you think looking at the takeout bag from the restaurant you just spent 8 hours in. There were enough chicken nuggets in there to feed a family. You get your mind back in the gutter when the performer moans. You stare at the screen. His torso is covered in the temporary tattoo, and he's strategically placed the barbed wire around his nipples. As he drags the wet loofah against his pelvis, he groans.

"God, this is cold. Wish you were here, to warm up my cock. With your mouth or cunt or ass. Filling you so well."

This time, you come before he's even pulled out his dick. Yet you keep watching. A second orgasm gets squeezed out of you later, with the help of your dildo. When "beercan" reaches a crazy tip goal, he fucks his fleshlight. He's merciless, using the pocket pussy like a cocksleeve, whispering the most obscene stuff.

"You like that? You like it when daddy fucks you like this. Of course you do. You're so tight for me, yet you take my big cock so well. Trained you well, didn't I? Made my own little whore, that needs my cum. Beg for it.". And you do, miles away from this stranger. You orgasm with him, sex toy deep inside of you. He cums and makes the stream watch as he cleans the fleshlight with the same loofah he used earlier.

That stream basically breaks you. For some reason two intense orgasm equal a very productive day then. You're a new person. You study and work better and no longer need to fuck yourself to sleep. That you stranger whose name is Bud or Sam Addams or Miller. Not that you drink the latter anyway, so it never crosses your mind. After all, Joel is older, in his mid 50s. But what he's not above is lying on the internet. Using the world wide web to show his nasty bits to the world. And what he'd soon realize is that his best friend's daughter isn't too.

After finishing your masters thesis, you come to the harrowing reality that there's no jobs for you here. And then comes your dad's constant pestering to come home. You reject him at first. There's nothing left for you in Texas anymore, besides the family house. But then, a former high school mentor posts a job opening on their Instagram story. And it's perfect for you, aside from the fact it's in Austin. You off handedly mention it to your parents, after immediately applying. You don't expect to get it. But with interviews and all, you do. They even allow you to start a bit later, making sure you work off your part-time job shifts.

So you take the plunge and buy plane tickets. There's only one problem. The flight is so early that you'd practically have to leave your empty apartment at 4 in the morning. So you decide to pull an allnighter. You're not sure how you end up back on the chat room site. You don't even know if "thicktexanbeercan" still cams. But as you click on the page, you get a notification that he's in a live show. Feeling bold tonight, you know you wanna be a bit more adventurous. Call it what you will, but you need a shake-up. After so much uncertainty, you need to do something so out of character.

You feel the money in your pocket burns a hole in it. Yes, packing your stuff and sending it back wasn't cheap. Nor was the last-minute plane ticket (even with Spirit airlines). But you had sold a lot of your things, gotten your rental deposit back, and got your days off comped as overtime. So you were, technically, on the flipside. Now, responsible people would put that into savings. You were spending it on tokens. You wanted to be seen. So you tipped for "nudes review." Truth is, ever since your last partner in freshman year of college, it was a string of bad hookups and boring first dates. No one had seen you naked in a while. But that didn't mean you didn't have nudes. Nope, you liked taking shots of yourself in compromising positions. After all, your pretty lingerie deserved to be shown off.

So you mindlessly sent over 4 shots via the opened pm option. He moves a large IPad in front of his face to obscure it. His ever-present cowboy hat is moved to his head as he stares at your pictures. He strokes his cock, at his usual fast pace.

"Jesus fuck, darling, aren't you a treasure. Look at that ass, so perky. It would look good in red, after I'm done with you. Let's see the next one, oh, you're doing the hand bra thing. Need someone to fondle your tits, huh. Don't worry, I'd grope them for you. Put my mouth on them, tease your sensitive nipples. Fuck, let's see the third. Damn, you're stark fucking naked. What a little whore you are, showing me everything. Don't know if I wanna think about your boobs again or your hips or your pussy. Might just stick around and look at it. Only one more, okay. Fuck, that's my favorite one, doll. Even though you should've been more careful. You forgot to crop out your face. I can see your needy expression as you're rubbing your clit. Hand in your lacy black panties, must have been a special night. Who in their right mind would have let you go instead of fucking you right against the mirror you're using as a prop. Don't worry, I'll make it right. I'll give you a tribute, right here. How's that sound, darling? You want this old man to cover your photo with his cum in front of thousands of people?".

Any fear or shame you've had is long gone. You don't only want that, you need it. You type a "please, daddy" in the chat. His groan fills your headphones. He fumbles, balancing his hat on his nose. For the first time, you see a glimpse of his face. His tongue wets his lips as he zooms on the iPad, making sure that others only see from your chest down. He jerks his cock over it, painting his screen with spurts of his cum.

"That was intense, think I'll put you on hold for a bit. It's been a while since a first orgasm drained me like that. Daddy will be back soon." He says and pauses the broadcast. Truth is, his cock would be hard again in a minute. It was the fact that he came to you that was haunting him. His best friend's daughter. A girl who was younger than his niece. A woman who was coming back to Texas after leaving as a 19 year old. Then you were still awkward and Joel would never look at you twice. You were a child, for God's sake. But now, some years later you had shed your baby face. You were a fucking bombshell. And he was about to implode.

After a whirlwind rest of the stream, you go to the airport and catch your flight. Despite being a full-grown adult, your parents insist on picking you up. You're back in your childhood bedroom, surrounded by boxes of your new life. You notice that some stuff from before is missing.

"Hey dad, where's the old blueetoth keyboard we bought when the laptop was on the fritz? Might need it for work." You ask. You're sure you can easily write down notes on your phone or on paper. But there was something satisfying about hooking up your old iPad to a keyboard and typing. Maybe it's the fact that it got you through college twice that has you feeling sentimental. Maybe it's the truth that your parents didn't know you bought it, and now you had to use it daily to justify spending money on it. Either way, your dad replied with

"Oh, I gave that to Joel. He said he was starting some new call center job and needed it. Working on European projects, so he's always busy at night. Must pay a pretty penny, he's always got packages on his doorstep. You should see his new pickup truck too, she's a beauty." Your father said.

"Didn't need the whole prologue, dad. Can you just get it back?" You ask.

"Now come on honey, you're a grown woman. You can go over and ask him yourself. He's not gonna eat you." Your dad insists, and you have to agree. With a resigned "At least text him and tell him I'm on the way.", you go. There's no use arguing. You can not explain to your dad that when you were 19, you wanted nothing more than Joel taking your virginity. That now, years after, you still wouldn't mind a sip of that can of Miller.

One of the reasons your dad and Joel were friends was the fact that you could get to the latter's house in about 15 minutes. You're there in less, ringing the doorbell and waiting. Joel emerges in a moss green bathrobe and grey sweatpants. His hair is tousled, and it's obvious that he was sleeping. You'd feel bad if he didn't greet you with a

"What the fuck do you want, I ain't buying anything. Oh. It's you. Hey, kiddo.". Your eyes go to the mat on his front porch, but not before taking in his cock. Was he hard? Had you interrupted an intimate moment? You mumble something about "wireless keyboard" and "borrowing it back, please" when he leads you in. If he had a lady friend, she was as quiet as a church mouse.

"It's in the guest room. Had to convert into a sort of home office, after getting a desk job, so many years as a contractor. Got hard on my back. Wanted to enjoy doing nothing, then Sara got knocked up again. Just like Tommy, both of them can't stop having kids. So now I have to be rich gruncle Joel. And I don't know why I'm telling you this instead of just getting the keyboard." He says. Joel pops in, but he doesn't close the door all the way. Peeking in through the hole, it seems familiar. Like you've seen it before, but recently. You shrug off the deja vu and take the keyboard from him. But as he hands it to you, familiar stickers facing you, you piece it together.

"Thicktexanbeercan" had the same one. And you recognized it because you "decorated" it as a sticker obsessed teen. There was no way. Mr. Miller was not camming. You had not orgasmed to him dirty talking to you. And most importantly, he had not come all over a photo of your tits. It was just a huge, cosmic coincidence. But there was only one way to find out.

The wait until your first paycheck was too long, yet you had to endure. There is no way you were taking money out of your savings to fulfill possibly Joel's wishlist. So when that sum hit your bank account, you expertly navigated to thicktexanbeercan's page. Clicking on the shop icon, you choose to ignore that the man is selling his nudes, his underwear, and his socks. Though tempted by the Polaroids of his cock, you move on. You buy the custom temporary tattoos, a callback to a previous stream. Your pussy twitches at the memory and you're quick to suppress your urges. You send your "requirements" to the Amazon seller and hope they get them ready soon. You also secretly order some for yourself, shipping them to a friend's house. You start tuning into the streams regularly, watching them all the way through. Your coworkers have the grace to not comment. Especially since the nightly nsfw is always in the background of something else. So you're doing research on one screen, while listening to maybe Joel call you a nasty whore for watching him.

TGIF was never your thing, until this one. Your cowboy walked in with a package, his address dutifully scribbled out. He opens it and out comes the sheet of temporary tattoos.

"Oh, someone's been watching me for some time, huh. Can't get enough of me inked. Well, I aim to please, so let's get this show on the road.". Beercan undresses to his boxers and starts examining the tattoos.

"Whoever picked these out is one creative motherfucker. I like them.". He starts showing them off to the camera, chuckling about the "save a horse, ride a cowboy" and subsequently the "don't ride a horse, but I'm hung like one". But one in particular makes him tick.

"Your throat goes here? Really, sweetheart? You expect me to walk around with that, to make you all see it as I stroke my cock for you? Fuck it, it's my job to give you a good show." He peels off two of those and places them on the space between his thumb and pointer finger. Was he? He was. Thicktexanbeercan was gonna live up to his name, by using both hands to jerk off.

He's fast, wanting this to end. His Friday shows weren't that popular, so no use milking it. Now, on Saturdays, that's when most people tune in. It's better to save his stamina for then. But you and the chat had other plans. You had mobilized them as he was busy answering questions earlier. Now, he would get enough tokens for a cumshot. Maybe Joel really aims to please. So he goes for it, double orgasm, sure. Then, as soon as that one's over, another. He barks at the chat that he doesn't like being bossed around like that. But you have him cumming until he's shooting blanks. After he just shuts off the stream and goes to bed after running a wet towel on his stomach, to wipe off the cum.

Less than 8 hours later, there's a constant ring of his doorbell. He opens and you're standing there, looking so fuckable his cock stands to attention. You're wearing a skimpy outfit and your lips are shiny with a pinkish gloss. But that doesn't stop him from wondering why you're gracing his doorstep like an angel sent straight from hell.

“I need help picking out a present for my dad.” You say.

“Sweetpea, I know you've been away for a while, but that doesn't change the fact that your dad's birthday isn't for months.” he replies.

"I know. It's not for that. I fucked up and broke something of his. Can you help me?" You ask.

"Sure, what do you need from me?" He counters.

"I think I wanna be stereotypical and get him something stereotypically dad-like. Like a craft beer, something he can crack open with the boys. And since you're "the boys," I'm here. Need a recommendation for a thick Texan beercan." You watch him react. He twitches like a rabbit spooked by a stick snapping.

"So you know. But I'm sure your parents wouldn't be thrilled by the fact that you're watching porn. Have you ever donated, I wonder. Bought something with their hard earned money. Straight from your father's wallet to your daddy." Joel counters, not missing the way your eyes glaze over when he calls yourself your daddy. But you are not won over so easily.

"You're a liar. Late 40s, my ass. Late 40s when you last had to change your ID or what? I could expose you. I'm sure the girlies and the rest watching you would love to know they were scammed. Tinder swindler, but worse."

"What do you want?" He tries.

"As Lana del Rey said, put me in the movie. Let me be in a video." You demand.

"Come back at night, around 9. Get something to cover your face too. Don't need someone recognizing you." He says.

You follow his instructions like an obedient puppy. You make up excuses to your parents. Your cunt's shaved, your outfit is complete and you're not wearing underwear. Joel drags you in, literally. He looks at the pink cowboy hat you have in hand and chuckles.

"No saying my name, preferably not saying much. Just follow my lead, and I'll make you feel good. If you wanna stop, what do you say?" He lists clinically.

"Light beer," you say, acknowledging the pun behind his moniker. You should've figured this out way earlier.

He half laughs, half looks disappointed at your bad pun. You know he's gonna get you back for this , sooner or later. You just desperately hope it's with his dick.

Joel starts the stream. He makes you sit in his chair as he gets a bit closer to the camera. You can see him, mic clipped to chocker and all. He speaks to his chat, introducing you as a "special cowgirl guest.".

"Bet you all wanna take her place. I'm sure she can tell you all about it. If she can speak after I'm done with her anyway." He continues. You wanna protest, to bite back with a comment. But he crawls between your legs, placing kisses up to your pussy. And you are speechless. The fact that you can see him, dark brown eyes and gorgeous roman nose is too much. He's even revealing the top of his greying hair. You grip it and bring him closer to your center. He chooses to lick and suck your clit instead and you moan so loud, even the felt of your hat doesn't muffle it.

"Gonna make you extra wet so you can take my cock, doll. Would you like that?" He asks and you reply with "yes, daddy". You can hear him extra crisp, the audio bouncing around the room. It's all too much, every fantasy of yours coming to life. You come against him, riding it out.

"You ready for more, my little fuckdoll? Can I?" He asks. You plead, you tell him you need him.

Joel makes sure to zoom the camera to your sopping cunt, showing you off to the chat. He fiddles with it, making sure it captures your greed. He sits on the chair, swatting your ass to get you up. Legs trembling, you do. He unzips his jeans, the sound as familiar to you as a notification on your phone. He puts it against you, just to give his viewers a preview on how deep he was gonna be in you.

"You think I'll fuck her up. Make this pussy memorize the shape of my cock. Let's give this pretty doll her first cervix bruising, shall I?" He says. He slides his cock in you in one swoop motion, not caring about the stretch.

"Just like that." You moan, dangerously close to saying his name. Joel spreads your legs and fucks into you. He's all grunts and swears, gone is his dirty talk. His hands are grabby, squeezing your thighs. He's so pussy whipped that he says

"Let me come inside you. Please. Need to.". The "yes, yes, daddy" is enough for him to do so and continue thrusting in you until he's soft. Joel rolls the chair forward, "manually zooming" his camera. His audience gets a pretty shot of his cum dripping out of you before the broadcast cuts out. He helps you up and draws a bath. If the camming paid for the clawfoot tub you saw, hell you'd join in more.

"You know, what we did was wrong. But it sure as hell felt right. I'm not saying we should do this daily. But maybe instead of both of us getting off on each other from afar, we can do it together." He asks, almost a schoolboy confession.

“Yes Joel, I wanna fuck you again too. Now shut and let me enjoy my life after taking your thick Texan beercan.”

[amarmoria]

Summer Heat

Kook!Reader

Rafe Cameron x Reader or JJ Maybank x Reader?

Rafe is with Sofia here, JJ swoops in and saves you, though I don't think Rafe really liked that.

Wc: 3.2k

Notes: 'finish your wips! finish your wips! Finish your wips!' I will whip you, JK, ofc I will, but I js had to write these two ⁄⁠(⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠)⁠⁄

(set somewhere in s4)

You're watching them.

Rafe and Sofia. Dancing around each other with no care in the world for who knows how long.

The drink you've been nursing has long been warm in your hand when you hear them laughing, so sweet so bitter, if not the crowd around you, you would've been vomiting your stomach out.

Another gurgle in your stomach sends you sitting down on one of the wooden high chairs, the legs slightly sinking into the sand as you place your long forgotten drink on the counter.

You didn't even have the appetite to drink anything, let alone party, why'd you even come here? Your jaw flexes as another wave of nausea hits you, you should've stopped 7 cups ago. You're not normally a drinker, in all senses you hate seeing people drunk of their asses, you're always the sober sister when it comes to these parties, only drinking a cup or two to loosen up, never drunk though, not like this.

Despite the booming speakers you can still hear them, like they're just right behind you, the thought sends you shivering, you wanted to puke, so bad, not sure if it's because of the alcohol or the other, maybe both, you're not sure.

Then a guy comes beside you, recklessly stumbling to sit on the chair, you roll your eyes, oh good, a pogue.

You've never been the one to pay attention to the ongoing war between the kooks and pogues, you're all just people living on an island, even though your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, has always wanted to show them who's the boss, the one on top, it sounded childish, how a grown man, not really, like him would choose to have a beef with teens not less than one or two years younger than him, he seemed almost sure he can drive them off the island like insects.

Your thoughts were stolen away when the guy beside you bumps your shoulder, maybe from trying to adjust the chair or whatever.

"Shit sssorry— my bad, man" he chuckles as he downs a shot.

"It's fine-" you pause when you finally glance at him.

"Mhm? Got you speechless huh?"

"Aren't you—?"

"Maybanks' son, yeah, uh-huh, been there, done that," he waves you off. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Just a little shocked,"

"Shocked. Yeah, a very common reaction in seeing a pogue in a kook party."

"No I—!"

"Tis fiine, got nothin' to worry 'bout, sweetheart" you cringe at the name, if not the forced accent he just did.

"Hit a nerve huh?"

"N-no.."

"Yeahhhh, def did."

"Are you drunk?"

"Nahh, just tipsy, nothin' compared to me in a pogue party."

"Pogue party?" Your eyebrows furrow. "Yeah, like a party on our turf of the island? You're not that clueless are you kook?"

Your face heats up. "I-I'm not! It's just that, a party is a party no matter where it is, so might as well say that this party is boring compared to yours."

"Hahhh, you're very funnyy for a koook"

"And you're pretty rude for a pogue."

"Huh, didn't you say a party is a party no matter where it is?"

"I'm talking about the party, not you."

"Sooo, serious kook, you should loooosen upp firsss"

"Ugh, I'm too drunk for this." You rolled your eyes and turned around, making your back face him.

A few seconds passed and he was suspiciously quiet, your attention going back to the still dancing couple at the center.

"Sayyy, we get outta heree" you yelp as he flicks your head. "W-wha, I don't even know you."

"JJ Maybank at your service" he bows, pretending to put on a top hat and fixing his imaginary mustache.

You couldn't stop the chuckle that escapes you.

"Now you know me, so should we dip or what?"

"Still no, I don't go with strangers, especially at night."

"You kill joy doucheee" you laugh as he almost tips over. "Careful there."

"Sir yes sir!"

You laugh again. "You're very funny for a pogue"

He joins you laughing, then he burps abruptly and laughs again. "Well, you're not so bad yourself kook"

"What do you say huh? Ditch this thing-a-ma-bob of a party for a real one?"

"Hm, let me think" if you were any sober you would've quickly turned him down and safely went home, but the alcohol in your system was wurly burly, and it maybe, just maybe, had a play at your decision.

"Fine—"

"Yes!" He animatedly made a goofy jump, he paused when his hand was about to reach for yours, quickly taking it back like you've burned him.

"Follow me, mademoiselle!"

You chuckle as he jogged just further in front of you. You unknowingly followed him through the busy crowd, slightly get annoyed when the others curse at him quietly, angry that a pogue was here, but he didn't seem to mind, almost like he was used to it.

Your mood turns slightly sour, you can't even take a little criticism, a little curse at you would send you spiraling and weepy, you didn't like it when people didn't like you, so you can't imagine what he's even feeling right now, he didn't seem bothered by it, but it bothered you.

"Almost theeere," he glances back at you, the booming speakers awhile ago was fading in the background, your mind long distracted away from the couple.

Then JJ slows down, matching your pace as the music beats in the background, the waves replacing the booming speakers.

"So this is your party huh?"

"Nahh or maybe yeahhh, maybe I'm here to abduct you and give you to the aliens, or maybe here to lure you in the water and let the mermaids eat you,"

"First of all it's the sirens that lure you," you hear him hum, but you don't expect him listening, the way his eyes drift on the random things that pass by tells you he's high as a bird, only humming when you end your sentences.

"But you might be the one who wants to lure me out here, then kill me for the pure pleasure of whatsoever."

He chuckles, "Maybe I did, or maybeeee I might just be here to ask for ransom,"

"Hm, let's see here," you whisper, but just loud enough so that he can hear, he arches an eyebrow, putting his hands on the back of his head.

"No, please don't kill me, Mr. Maybank! I wanna be in the sequel!" You clasp your hands together, trying to contain your laugh, but a few seconds pass and he doesn't make a noise. Great, you've scared him off.

You sighed and you were about to take off when you heard him wheezing, your eyebrows furrowed and your face quickly heats up, the embarrassment creeping in.

"What's so funny?"

"You— w-what did you—" he kneels on the sand as he tries to breathe, but the laughing easily comes back to him. "I'm— your—"

"I'm what!" You stomp your foot.

His fit doesn't stop for a long time until he was on the floor, on his back, trying to get oxygen back in his body while you were there angrily crossing your arms.

"There, now can you answer me more properly?"

He gives you a boyish smirk, sitting up and shaking the sand off his hair.

"Dork." Your eyes snapped back to his. "W-what did you just call me?"

"I said you dork!" You didn't have time to react when he tackles you to the ground, right where the ocean touches the sand, so now your clothes are half wet half dry.

"Hey! No fair!" Okay so now you're mad, you didn't have extra clothes brought because you weren't planning to swim anyways.

"I'm wet now!" JJ snorted when you stood up, flicking the heavy sand off you. "What?!"

"Dude did you not hear yourself?"

"JJ I don't care! My clothes are wet, and it's cold! And I have nothing to change into!" You stomped on the water, briefly splashing JJ but he didn't mind.

"Woah, princess getting worked up," he raises his arms up, whistling.

"I'm serious, JJ!"

"Chill man, you're fine, its gonna dry later anyways," he speaks as if this was nothing to him, what if you get sick? The wet top and cold air blowing on your back will kill you.

You were somewhat sober now, not that drunk compared from earlier, and that was thanks to JJ's wake up call.

"It's not that big of a deal anyways— woah—"

You tried to tackle him further into the water, but he was big and heavy, and more stronger than you so all your might was only half of his, only throwing him off the ground where there was mo water than could catch him.

"Ha! See that! That's what you get!" You laugh, holding on to your stomach, you ignore the shiver than ran through you when another cold breeze came by.

You paused when you hear no JJ, he was crouched on the floor, his forehead leaning against the sand as he clutches his stomach, his face contorted into a painful one, letting out a pained groan.

"..JJ?"

"Agh— fuck—"

"Oh my go— JJ are you alright?" You hurriedly kneeled beside him, placing your hand on his back as he continued to crouch on the sand.

"I- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, JJ, I'm— w-where does it hurt? Oh gosh, JJ answer me please? Did I hit you too hard? JJ—"

You pause when he wheezes, you thought he'd hurt himself even more but he lets out a series of out of breath laughs, wheezing and punching the sand, he lied on his back once more, clutching his stomach not from pain, but from laughing.

"Wha.. JJ are you alright..?" You frown. "I-I'm— sssorrry but—"

"JJ what're you—"

"Did you actually— believe that shi—" he fell into a coma of laughter once again, kept on hitting the sand below him as you stood up with an irritated look.

"JJ, I'm actually tired, and too drunk of your bull, so if you want to keep dying here, I may as well let you."

You angrily turned around and stomped away from the twitching man. Just because you let him talk to you without getting called pogue slurs doesn't mean he can insult you like this, you won't let him.

"W-wait— wait up, stop—" he stood up staggering, calling out your name, but your ego was hurt, and you wouldn't let it past him.

"Wait— I'm sorry—" you didn't have time to react when a body hugs you from behind and throws the both of you into the water completely, you hurriedly sat up from the ambush and angrily looked around, you spot JJ, who was also drenched with you, already sat up and looking at you.

"Why did you—"

"I told you to wait up"

"I don't care If—"

“Alright chill, chill, my fault my fault, But you have to admit, that was def funny.”

You paused, trying to stop the snort out of coming your mouth. THE JJ Maybank apologized? How in the world did you—?

JJ flinched when you burst out laughing, you try to muffle it but you just couldn't stop laughing, a few seconds of you painfully wheezing then JJ bursted out laughing too, the two of you splashing around the water like children and laughing so loud you didn't even know you had in you.

"JJ Maybank—!" You inhale, wheezing it out once again. "Yeah?"

"Apologizing?!"

"Huh, why not?"

"Since the flip when?!"

"The flip?!—" that's when he bursts out laughing even more. "Now where'd you get that?"

"Wdym?!"

You splash him with water, the tides were getting bigger, and def stronger the more both of you stayed in it, he was about to splash you back when a grip on your arm pulled you up, you stumble in front of the very last person you wanted to see.

"What the fuck do you think your doing?"

You thought he was talking to you, but his eyes were trained on the soaked blond still in the water.

"No, what the fuck are you doin' here?" Now JJ was the angry one, both of them were, you meekly turned to glance at the blond behind you, silently begging him to just pull back and let everything slide on, but his attention was solely on the other blond in front of you.

"Last time I remembered, this was a no pogue zone, dipshit."

"Yeah, well I didn't see no sign, Cameron, so if you can just fuck off and leave us alone" he was standing now, just right behind you, careful on not getting too close, you might even think he was careful on not getting you wet, but technically you already were soaked in salt water.

"Since when does a fucking pogue order me around huh?" You can tell Rafe was trying to rile him up, and JJ seemed to be riled up enough.

"Since the fuck now— " you yelp as JJ pushes you aside, although he had his hand on your arm, you still trip on your feet, Rafe's hand caught your waist and pulling you up, you didn't have anytime to reload before they started punching eachother.

You had to stop them, before they kill each other again, you've always been there for each one of their party fights, the other always happy to oblige with the wishes of the opposite, but you were never the one to get involved, you were always hiding, taking your phone out just in case something happens, but this time it was just you, and the two warmongers.

That is until you hear the crowd hyping them up, then you see Sofia, uselessly standing right behind Rafe and yelling at them to stop.

No they won't stop the fuck? Hasn't she even seen them whenever they fight? No, you suppose not, she's busy flirting and frolicking around the bar and Rafe.

But what can you even do to stop them though? At least Sofia was trying, you were only standing frozen, and here you were calling her useless.

A shove from behind you quickly snapped you from your thoughts.

"S-sorry— oh shit, JJ stop no—!" It was Mr. Heyward's son, Pete? Pablo? It's on the tip of your tongue, just not quite there yet.

"Rafe, let him go, stop it!" You hear Sofia shout, but the two blonds kept landing punches on each other.

One moment they're still standing, next another they're on the floor, with JJ on top, of course Rafe wouldn't let his image get ruined like that so Rafe flipped the both of them, crashing into the waters, you hear the crowd whistling and howling, some even betting on them, it's fowl, how they think this is fun, how they think two half bloodied guys fighting are worth to bet on, Rafe had a bruised lip, while JJ was sporting a bruising black eye, both of them had bloodied noses.

Some time during everything, their friends managed to join their ruckus, turning their fight into a wrestling match, you see Topper fighting Sarah's boyfriend, uh husband, then Kelce jumping in to pull Heyward jr. away from JJ and get a punching of his own, their girls nowhere to be seen.

Except for Topper's girl, she suddenly appeared behind Sofia and pushed her away slightly, even she knew not to mess with Rafe's girl, huh, Rafe's.. girl..

You didn't even register that she was headed for you, not until she got a fist full of your hair, managing to pull you down on the ground, you didn't back up though when you got a grip on her newly bought necklace and ripped in from her neck, the necklace must've been expensive because of how tightly it clung on her neck despite how hard you pulled, the more she pulled your hair the more you pulled on her thousand dollar jewelry, then your hands finds its way to her top, if she was going to bring you down, your bringing her down with you.

"Fucking bitch!" She screams when you rip her bikini off, her grip on your hair disappears as she covers her boobs with her hands, you flip her off as you try to fix yourself, you are surrounded by phones and their flashes, but you couldn't care less when she was the one who targeted you in the first place.

You see her slink away in the crowd, muttering a curse before running off to whatever.

During the scuffle at one point the crowd slowly joined, the others just wanting to add fuel to the fire and hype up the people recording.

"Fuuuuu— booze and thiis?" You hear the guy moan, ugh, you thought, quickly scuffling away from him.

And just before you can escape the human stampede, a hand clamps around your arm, you try and keep up the mysterious hand pulling on you, only seeing a gust of blond hair on your guy, you try to pull against him but he keeps you steady behind him, your weak attempts at trying to escape looked nothing compared to his grip.

He dragged you across the brawl hurriedly, your feet taking twice as many steps as his did. "Y-you're hurting me!"

You didn't think he heard you, with the music being tuned up for the sake of the audience's enjoyment, you hear the others chanting 'fein' while punching a person square in the jaw.

"Stop! Please!" You pull for your arm, but the man yanks you back again, this time you bump into his chest that felt like bumping into a wall.

"Hold. Fucking. Still"

"R-Rafe?"

"C'mon" he grunts, you didn't even notice that you were already out of the riot until he places you in front of him, beside his truck.

Only then you noticed how bruised he actually was, his face was marked with the aftermath of the brawl—bruises blooming in dark purples and blues around his cheekbone and jaw. A cut near his eyebrow oozed slightly, leaving a faint trail of dried blood. The swelling along his lip made it difficult for him to smile, and a faint redness traced the area under his eye, hinting at a blow that landed too close.

"Rafe, you're bleeding—"

"—Don't" he raises his hand, you shut your mouth closed, as much as your ego loved seeing him like that, you couldn't deny the worry threatening to pour out, to drag him to your house and play nurse on him, you didn't like seeing him like this, you finally decided.

"We should wash that," you reach out to the cut in his eyebrow, he doesn't flinch, not like how he does when he's high. "Rafe where.."

You hesitate, he doesn't look up when you pause. "W-where's Sofia? The last time I saw her was before you—"

"—No."

"What do you mean no? What if Sofia's still back there, we should go—"

"Stop—! talking, about her I," he runs his hand through his buzz cut. "T-take, take me home, n-not, not tannyhill, no, not there, jus', yours, your house,"

You frown, what about—?

"Please.. please"

"Rafe, I don't —"

"'M not asking for a million, doll, js- just take me home..?" his voice slightly breaks at the end, his words were swirly and airy, if not high rafe then very drunk rafe.

...

"Okay."