#there are too many tags on this post jesus christ

[ancientwastedlores]

Don't Be Kind To It (Homelander x Reader)

The overwhelming amount of love Homelander Only Breaks His Favorite Toys got really hit me in the feels. Some of you asked for a part II, and much like Homelander, I aim to please (and love the praise).

[tags: @helreyy @discowizard88 @slasherho]

This one is lightly inspired by Hozier's "It Will Come Back," and we get a glimpse into Homelander's perspective as well.

Hope you enjoy it! <3

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Don't Be Kind To It

Don't let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it

You're a smart cookie. And you know Homelander better than he knows himself. You expect him to stalk you, watch you from rooftops, send you gifts that have an agenda, and force Vought's Crime Analytics department to keep an eye on you.

So, you wait. You listen for the telltale whoosh of air, the crackle of energy that signals his arrival. Every gust of wind sends your heart hammering; every creak of the floorboards makes your blood run cold. You scan the skyline for a flash of red and blue, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

At first, you think he’s just toying with you, letting you stew in paranoia. You brace for him to materialize at the most inconvenient moment, smug and victorious. Yet days turn into weeks, and his absence becomes undeniable. You tell yourself he’s good at what he does—too good—but the truth begins to sink in: it’s not just you. Nobody has seen him.

No staged rescues. No public appearances. Not even a leaked video of him losing his temper. Ashley let slip that his tracking chip went dead 3 days ago. Vought is scrambling to spin the story - a secret overseas mission? A long-deserved vacation?

But the inner circle is panicking. The people who know him best—the ones who know what he’s capable of—are terrified.

Where the fuck is Homelander?

But... another thought creeps in, invasive and unwelcome, like a splinter under your skin.

Isn't he going to fight for me?

The selfishness of it makes you recoil, but it’s there, undeniable and raw. After everything, after all the suffocating control and emotional whiplash, you almost wanted him to stay obsessed with you. To prove that you still mattered to him. To prove that you had power over the most powerful man alive.

The realization is a gut punch. Maybe you’re not as different from him as you thought. Maybe his possessiveness, his need for control, rubbed off on you more than you care to admit. Maybe you’ve become just as twisted as him, longing for attention—even the toxic kind—because it’s better than silence.

And now, silence is all there is.

It wraps around you like a noose, tightening with every passing day. His absence presses on your chest, cutting off your circulation, making it hard to breathe. You tell yourself it’s relief—that this is what you wanted—but the emptiness feels like punishment. You try to convince yourself he’s sulking, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to make you regret leaving him.

But the longer it stretches on, the more it begins to feel permanent.

You could care less what this means for Vought. All the company seems to care about is who will lead the Seven now. Should they try to replace Homelander or lean into the “team-first” narrative Ashley has been pushing? PR scrambles to keep the media from asking too many questions, trotting out The Deep and Black Noir to cover for him.

But the public isn’t buying it.

Those who love him are afraid he is hurt. Those who hate him post conspiracy theories about Homelander going rogue - which feels way more accurate.

Either way, if Homelander doesn’t want to be found, no one can find him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Your days stretch out unfathomably long. You expected to feel free, to savor the clean air and the wide-open spaces of a world without him. Instead, his absence is louder than his presence ever was.

When he was there, he consumed everything: every thought, every moment, every inch of your life. You hated it, resented it, but at least you understood it. His attention, no matter how suffocating, meant you mattered.

But now there’s nothing.

The silence echoes like a scream, reverberating through every corner of your mind. Every sleepless night, every anxious thought loops back to him. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he coming back?

You start to wonder if this is how he wanted it—to leave you drowning in uncertainty, gasping for closure you’ll never get. Maybe this is his ultimate revenge.

Or maybe…

Maybe he’s broken in ways even you can’t fix.

You almost wish for his cruelty, for the familiar push-and-pull of his twisted affection. Because this? This void where he once loomed so large?

It feels like dying.

No. You have to seek him out. You can't quite tell if it's for his sake or yours... you can figure that out later.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Monster's Lament

The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through cracked blinds. Dust floats in the air, settling over the relics of a forgotten time—old Vought propaganda posters peeling from the walls, a long-dead television covered in grime. It’s quiet here, too quiet, save for the clock that's miraculously still ticking.

Homelander sits slumped in a battered chair, his suit grimy, his cape discarded on the floor in a crumpled heap. His head is in his hands, his golden locks disheveled, the picture of a god brought low.

“You warned her,” a voice says, syrupy sweet.

Homelander doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to���he knows where it’s coming from.

The mirror.

He lifts his gaze reluctantly, and there it is: his own reflection staring back at him, but not quite right. The eyes burn brighter, the teeth are sharper, the smile is crueler. It leans forward as if trying to crawl out of the glass.

"You warned her," it sings again. "But did she listeeeen." "Not now, okay?" Homelander pleads.

The face in the mirror laughs. "Jesus fucking Christ, this is so pathetic. What are you waiting for, for her to come find you? For her to need you?" "She does need me." “Oh, sure. Because you gave her everything. The flying, the fancy dinners, the cape-flipping bullshit. But what did she give you?” It leans closer, its grin widening. “Pity. That’s what. You wanted love, and all you ever got was pity.”

“That’s not true,” Homelander growls, but his voice wavers.

“Isn’t it?” The reflection tilts its head, almost playfully. “She stayed because she felt sorry for you. The broken little boy in the big man’s body. She didn’t love you, not really. She loved the idea of fixing you. And when she couldn’t—”

“Shut up!” Homelander’s voice cracks as he lurches to his feet, his hands trembling.

The reflection’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “What’s the matter, Johnny? Don’t like the truth?”

He stands frozen, a deer in headlights. He never learned to deal with complex emotions, and even after all this time, it wraps around him like a boa constrictor, cutting off his air supply and rooting him to the ground.

And the reflection starts to sing. “Don’t feed me, honey. Don’t be kind to me.”

The lyrics echo around Homelander, twisting like a blade.

"Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul Honey, make this easy Leave it to the land, this is what it knows."

"STOP IT" Homelander cries.

"Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back"

"You're supposed to be on MY side." Homelander says. "I am. This is what that looks like," It replies.

Homelander's stares ahead, his fists clenched, his jaw tights, his eyes ready to burn holes into the mirror. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.

Homelander closes his eyes, but her face is there, burned into his eyelids. The way she looked at him—like he was more than the sum of his power, more than the monster everyone else saw. He hates her for it. He loves her for it.

“Why did you leave?” he whispers to himself.

The reflection’s smile vanishes. For a moment, it almost looks… pitying.

“Because you allowed it,” it says simply.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

"She fed you ONCE. And you kept going to her like a stray fucking dog. You took her mercy and her love and you became weak. Nobody wants weakness, Johnny." It leans forward, smiling, canines gleaming, "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Homelander looks at the ground. Shame and desperation wash over him, and he blinks tears back.

"You're going to claim her. And you'll make sure she never, ever leaves again. Right?"

Homelander doesn't look up from the floor.

It gets irritated. "Right?"

Silence.

It rolls its eyes. "Do you want ME to do it?"

Homelander looks up, hope obvious in his bright blue eyes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t intend to start looking for him. It just… happens.

It begins with small, idle habits—clicking on articles about Vought’s latest scandals, scrolling through old news coverage, and watching grainy footage of staged rescues from years past. Your eyes search for him automatically, for that familiar streak of red and blue cutting through the chaos.

Then it escalates.

You start wandering the city at night, tracing the paths he once flew you along. You visit the rooftops where he used to land with a flourish, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. You linger outside the exclusive restaurants where he once paraded you like a trophy, his smile razor-sharp as he soaked in the envy of the other diners.

But it’s not just the glamorous places.

You walk down seedy alleys and explore dark corners—the forgotten places he claimed as private retreats. The places where he could let his guard down, where the mask of America’s golden boy slipped.

It feels grotesque, this act of seeking him out. Like you’re willingly feeding the monster you swore you’d escape. You hate yourself for it, for the way your heart leaps at the thought of seeing him again, even if it’s just to tell him to his face that you’re done.

But you can’t stop.

You start putting yourself in danger—not consciously, but recklessly enough that it’s obvious even to you. Walking alone through neighborhoods that turn predatory after dark. Taking late-night trains without any plan or destination. Part of you hopes he’ll swoop in, cape flaring, to save you in one of his dramatic displays of power.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, one night, it’s Black Noir who finds you.

The alley is suffocatingly narrow, the air heavy with the mingling stench of rotting garbage and damp asphalt. The dim, flickering streetlight overhead barely illuminates the passage as two men circle you like predators. Their laughter is low and ugly, their shadows long and distorted against the brick walls.

You freeze, your breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob, as one of them lunges toward you. You pray even now that he'll swoop in from somewhere.

And then he’s there.

Black Noir steps from the shadows like death itself. His arrival is so silent, so abrupt, that the men don’t even notice him until it’s too late. A gloved hand clamps down on one man’s shoulder, spinning him around with an almost casual effort. Noir doesn’t waste time. The blow is swift, brutal—a single strike to the man’s temple that sends him crumpling to the ground.

The second man barely has time to react, stumbling backward with a terrified curse. Noir closes the distance in an instant, his movements fluid and precise. A sharp crack echoes through the alley as the man’s arm is wrenched at an unnatural angle. He screams, but Noir silences him with a swift knee to the ribs. He falls, gasping and broken, as Noir turns to you.

The black Kevlar of his suit gleams faintly in the dim light, the contours of his armor making him seem more shadow than man. His helmet hides his face entirely, the opaque visor reflecting your terrified expression back at you. He stands perfectly still, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his presence both menacing and oddly comforting.

You crumble to the ground, your legs giving out beneath you as adrenaline and fear collide in your veins. Relief washes over you, but it’s tainted by something darker—frustration, disappointment, an aching sense of abandonment.

Noir kneels on the ground to make sure you're okay.

“Why—why isn’t he here?” you sob, your voice breaking. The words spill out of you, raw and unfiltered, as you pound your fists weakly against Noir’s chest.

He doesn’t move.

“Why won’t he come for me?” you cry, your hands trembling against the hard, unyielding surface of his armor. “He’s supposed to be here. He’s always here.”

Noir doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He simply stands there, a silent sentinel as your emotions spill over in a torrent of tears and ragged gasps. His helmet tilts ever so slightly, as if he’s observing you, but he offers no comfort, no words of reassurance.

You clutch at him like a drowning person reaching for a lifeline, your fingers curling around the slick fabric of his suit. The tears come harder now, soaking into the Kevlar as you press your face against him.

“I hate him,” you whisper through clenched teeth, though the bitterness in your voice is softened by the despair in your heart. “I hate him for leaving.”

Noir stands up, lifting you with him, and lets you go once he's sure you're standing straight. His silence is maddening. Why isn't he angry that you're being ungrateful? Why isn't he at least talking about Homelander disappearing? ANYTHING?

You finally step back, your hands trembling as you wipe at your tear-streaked face. Your gaze meets Noir’s visor, and for a moment, you imagine you see something there—pity, perhaps, or understanding. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the blank, inscrutable void of his masked expression.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, though the words feel hollow. What you really want to say is, Why wasn’t it him?

Noir doesn’t react. He simply steps back, his movements as quiet and calculated as ever, before melting into the shadows.

You’re alone again, the weight of Homelander's absence pressing down on you like a physical force.

But... a thought creeps in. If Black Noir came, then Homelander must know, too. They all have access to the same intel. He knows where you are and what you’re doing, and still—still—he hasn’t come for you.

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GUYS, I think this is going to be a three-parter. Bear with me. The next chapter will be the last. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged to the third one!

Thank you for all the love 😭😭

[spyres]

i don't really like confessions blogs because i feel like they just fuel the fire for fandom discourse but ngl i agree with pretty much everything that's been posted on the is*t one so far so i'm okay with it for now lol 👍

[khaotunq]

i mean this with all the sincerity in the world, with full offence:

fuck you. :)

[jazzically]

the magnus protocol episodes 4 through 7 — my live reactions not clickbait

magp 4

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD IS THIS THE STATEMENT AND/OR ORIGIN OF ALFRED GRIFTER

omg i love how the literal only reason for hearing statements from the 1800s is gwen being behind on her work

ALSO I FRICKING LOVE THE MAGNUS PROTOCOL THEME

Oh my lord you know it's a good sidequel when you can already feel the itch to relisten to everything you just listened to

magp 5

Ok i do not know whether we say "a blast from the past" in America but i have heard that phrase like five times now from Brits all on the RQ magnus feed so im wondering if that's just an alexander j newall thing or !!! what (love it tho. i love it)

faith the unholy trinity referenced???? faith the unholy trinity!!!!!!?

aint no way he won the contest by coincidence LMAO

OOOH THIS IS SUCH A COOL FORMAT!!! ahh ... just how many ideas do they have for digital first-person storytelling mediums?? cuz with every new one i am fascinated

i wonder if jonny just flipped between soft speaker and robot while recording or if "[UNINTELLIGIBLE]" is a digital insert. if it's the latter i am VERY impressed although it's characteristic of jonny at this point lol

OOOooooOOoOoO personal relation is always extra spookyyy

i am also extremely impressed by the similarity in writing style. i can see it (in a good way) now that i'm looking harder, but i would never have guessed jonny didn't write all the episodes

also i just love how alex and jonny swap announcer roles sometimes (jonny as credits, alex as title/episode) for tmp

NOTE TO SELF: check out the cellar letters!!!!! omfg!!! it sounds fire!!!!

magp 6

aw that's such a sweet dedication message

URGH HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE THE TMAGP THEME

i always wondered what the muffled falling-down-the-stairs noise at the end of the original theme was. it always put me in mind of the aesthetic of the beginning of portal 2 (and, later, the Buried coffin) idk why

I LOOOVE ALL OF THESEEEE none of them have been hard to get through at all?? which is rare for me bc i fail to pay attention to things for long unless they come in more than two forms of stimulus simultaneously (video + music, audio + fidget toy, video + candle)

AWIEE SAM AND CELIA 😭😭😭

Yes alice you do that matchmaking you are SUCH a girlboss

magp 7

OMFG CELIA DEFINITELY KNOWS SOMETHING

lmao jonny says ree instead of err ee now (for "re:"/regarding)

[ThEory time babes woooOoO]

heyyyy is this one of those other worlds that the fears got banished to. actually what happened to the dread powers? am not exactly clear on that (i hope it's on purpose). maybe the place where the dread powers exist alongside "our world" in tma is also adjacent to other worlds in exactly the same way?? like how a hexagon can be adjacent to six other hexagons??? that'd be sick and it would also explain why there wasnt an overwhelming amount of supernatural incidents in "our world" such that everyone was familiar with the dread powers and normalized safety procedures and such ... interesting au idea ... also the idea jonny proposed about a post-apocalypse world in the s5 qna... that one is cool too............ writers get on that (/j/j/j)

is tmp a separate world ??? they only said it was in the same universe as tma iirc

[wild speculation over]

RAAAAAA i LOVE the robotic voices' VAs' abilities to slowly transition into humanlike speech

cLaYtOn!!!!!? do i know that name or am i going crazy

perhaps i am yet again thinking of the worker of clay (see previous post)

LOOOLL "better than norris, whiny little toad"

OHMYGFUCKING GOD WAIT I RESCIND MY EARLIER STATEMENT!!!!!! THAT'S CANONICALLY JONATHAN SIMS' FRICKING VOICE!!!!!!!!!!!!

hehehe ooooh you're evil writermen. how dare you use our constant uncertainty as to which characters you're referring to induced by your earlier repetition when naming characters (really there should be a limit as to how many michaels can be in one story) so that we are still unsure, even with prior knowledge, whether sam's mysterious "john" is actually the archivist or just some other john. good lord (im obsessed)

HOLY CRAP COLIN KNOOOWSSSSSSSS THINGSSS i just adore his role as the town crazy old man

omg alex's writing is incredible

[mjshortformcjesus]

in spanish class straight up drawing it. and by ‘it’ lets justr say. amanda young

[hauntingblue]

:)

[fruchtchen]

지저스 크라이스트 수퍼스타 (2022 - 50주년) - 마이클리 (지저스), 백형훈 (유다)

Jesus Christ Superstar (2022 - 50th Anniversary) - Michael K. Lee (Jesus), Baek Hyeong-hun (Judas)

https://youtu.be/nqVCyCSzgno

[sushisocks]

i wish i was as good as you in being feral in tags. i truly try, but it just doesn't come. you, on the other hand, make growling and barking in the notes seem so effortless, i'm in awe

HELLPP IM FUCKING CRYING THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD

the fact that this could have been spurred by SO many posts ive reblogged the past 24 hrs. or like, ever 😭

but see

that's my secret, lissu

im always feral (lol)

and i just live in the tags so that's where it comes out more often than not LMAOO thank u for the compliment im glad my brand of mental illness is enjoyable HAHAHAH

[sunmoonclouds]

ok so random update to this empty auditorium BUT!! i am apparently unable to be normal about organization so ive been developing a tag system. but then i got sidetracked by my ocs. and then again by some personal stuff BUT!!!! i am squirrelling away posts into my drafts to throw into a queue once i finalize the tag system and tag masterposts or whatever. because again i am apparently extremely unable to be normal about organization. so! i do plan on launching this blog. eventually. hopefully. and i do have posts ready to be. posted. if push comes to shove i may give up on the part of the tagging system thats giving me trouble buuuuut i DO really want to launch this!!! i just decided to be more organized about it. because something something gotta line up my toys (posts about thing i like)

tldr

- i do plan on actually using this blog

- ... but i kinda bitten off a bit more than i can chew with developing my tagging system

- i have 77 posts in my drafts waiting to be queued once i figure out that god forsaken tagging system

[violet-dragonfly]

it’s that time of the year folks

[redwinelew]

joyride | lewis hamilton

social media au. female!east asian!reader.

summary — in which the internet goes wild when the seven times formula 1 world champion co-wrote and stars in his girlfriend's music video for her comeback single after a long hiatus.

face claim — rina sawayama

song — joyride by kesha

warnings — swearing, suggestive content, one kms joke

author's note — first fic on tumblr !! pls be kind and lmk what i can improve <33

all pictures taken from pinterest. credit to owners.

instagram!

liked by arianagrande, carlossainz55 and 489,273 others

tagged lewishamilton

ynln enjoying life 💙

view all 1,059 comments

user1 "enjoying life 💙" as if u don't have an album to write like ok 🙄🙄

user2 user1 ???? she doesn't owe u anything — liked by ynln

user1 user2 omg it was a joke chill 😭😭

user3 user1 well tell that to her now we're def not getting that album

user4 HOLY SHIT MOTHER JUST POSTED

yourbff my girl is glowing!! — liked by yn

ynln yourbff 💙💙💙💙 ilysm

user5 ever since she started dating him she rarely posts anything anymore :(

user6 user5 does it matter? like she said she's enjoying life and she looks happy with him so what's the problem

user2 lewis being in this post twice oh she's so in love with him

user2 user2 god when is it my turn to be happy

user5 idec about the album anymore 😭😭 she looks so content and that's all that matters

rachelzegler the cutest!!!!

naraaziza beautiful ❤️❤️

lewishamilton when did you take the last picture i didn't even notice?

ynln lewishamilton when you were too busy staring at other girls

user6 ynln LMFAO

user7 ynln do u want me to fight him

lewishamilton ynln baby please

ynln lewishamilton 🙄🙄🙄🙄

user8 ynln GAG HIM

user8 if i was dating sir lewis hamilton i would abandon my career too

user9 user8 ikr who needs a job when your bf is a millionaire

ynln user8 nothing's abandoned babe :)

user8 ynln WAIT WHAT

user10 ynln YN WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

user11 ynln EVERYBODY STAY FUCKING CALM

user12 ynln not her teasing us 😭😭

user13 ynln not the ":)" is everything a joke to u

user14 ynln STOP PLAYING WITH MY FEELINGS PLS WE NEED THE ALBUM

user15 user14 FR IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS YNLN PLEASE 😭😭

instagram!

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tagged roscoelovescoco and ynln

lewishamilton a much needed gateaway

view all 4,927 comments

ynln 💙💙💙💙 i love u

lewishamilton ynln i love you more baby

user1 ynln lewishamilton god idk how many me and who i got left in me

user2 user1 if they ever broke up i will never believe in love again

user3 user2 the standard fr

mercedesamgf1team do u guys need a third

user4 merdecesamgf1team HELP 😭😭

user5 mercedesamgf1team ADMIN??????

user6 mercedesamgf1team admin is just like me fr

user7 mercedesamgf1team dont u guys have better things to do like idk, fix those fuck ass cars? — liked by ynln

user8 OMG ROSCOE

user9 hey sir lewis is your gf single

danielricciardo did you guys try the restaurant i suggested?

lewishamilton danielricciardo yes! the food was incredible mate thank you

user10 danielricciardo lewishamilton 344 interaction in the years of our lord 2024 this was not on my bingo card

user11 can you pls tell yn to get her ass to that studio her fans are starving 🙏🏼 — liked by lewishamilton and ynln

user12 user11 yk what else we need? a xnda comeback 🙏🏼 — liked by ynln

user13 user12 OMG YES

user11 user12 LEWIS LIKED YOUR COMMENT OH MY GOD????

user12 user11 AND YN AS WELL WHAT IS GOING ON

twitter!

instagram!

liked by livkatecooke, chappellroan and 3,837,930 others

ynln "joyride" single and mv out 11.2 co-written and featuring the one and only xnda aka lewishamilton 🧡🧡 told u guys i'm not abandoning anything ;)

view all 11,638 comments

user1 JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I JUST WOKE UP

user2 YN WHAT THE HELL

user3 FINALLY

user4 QUEEN OF POP IS BACK

user5 CO-WRITTEN AND FEATURING WHO??????

lewishamilton you're fucking killing it babe 🧡

ynln lewishamilton ilysm baby thank u for agreeing to be part of this 🫶🏼🫶🏼

user7 SCREAMING CRYING SHAKING THROWING UP

user6 WE ARE SO MF BACK

rkive can't wait!

ynln rkive i love u!!

user8 rkive ynln bts x yn ln collab when

user8 she's coming for her third grammy already i can feel it

alex_albon ready to have it on repeat!

georgerussell63 let's go!

twitter!

instagram!

liked by iamhalsey, megantheestallion and 7,638,927 others

tagged ynln

lewishamilton joyride by ynln feat. xnda is out now 🧡 me and yn have always wanted to make a song together but my own insecurity halted us from releasing it. we got the idea for joyride while on our roadtrip in italy and i originally did the demo and was only supposed to co-write with yn but my lady convinced me to fully be part in this and how could i say no? thank you for believing in me, my love. i am so proud of you 🧡

view all 45,173 comments

ynln baby 🧡🧡🧡🧡 i love u so much thank you for agreeing to be part of this it means a lot to me

lewishamilton ynln anything for you sweetie 🧡

user1 lewishamilton ynln i'm gonna sleep on the highway tonight

ynln user1 pls don't do that the album is coming out in three months

user1 ynln EXFUCKINGSCUSE ME@!-!&!#;#!

user2 ynln WE'RE ACTUALLY GETTING AN ALBUM??????

ynln user1 user2 ;)

georgerussell63 banger!

lewishamilton georgerussell63 thanks mate!

user3 yn could ask lewis to jump into a volcano and he'd do it

ynln user3 don't tempt me

user3 ynln HELP

user4 we love a supportive boyfriend

user5 god i've seen what you've done to others

user6 love the bonnie and clyde theme and roscoe cameo 🙏🏼

user7 "my lady" "my love" "sweetie" god i'm so painfully single

tomcruise amazing!

maxverstappen1 i still can't believe you can sing

lewishamilton maxverstappen1 believe it

twitter!

— thanks for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated 🫶🏼🧡

[pedrospatch]

not a thing

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

part ii

summary: You and Joel had a private moment while Ellie was asleep. Or so you’d thought she was asleep.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. implied smut, but no actual smut. grumpy Joel, Ellie is a little shit.

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: nervous to write for TLOU but still giving it a shot! poor Ellie for being subjected to what i am about to subject her to lol. Edit: holy shit, i did not expect this to get much attention. thank you all sm for reading, liking and reblogging!

It had been an incredibly stupid thing to do.

So, so, so fucking stupid.

You knew that.

And Joel knew that.

You two were supposed to have been standing watch.

Not to mention, there had been a teenaged girl sleeping close by, just mere fucking yards away from the two of you had been—

Jesus Christ.

Dammit, you and Joel fucking knew better than to be this goddamn stupid.

Careless.

But neither of you could help yourselves.

It had been several weeks—actually, it had been several months since you two had been able to steal a private moment for yourselves. That moment would have been missed had you not somehow woken up in the middle of the night, only to find Joel wide awake, his rifle in hand as he stood watch while you and Ellie had slept. You’d offered to take his place for a few hours so he could get some rest too, but instead, a few minutes and many, many desperate, feverish kisses later, the two of you found yourselves on the other side of Bill’s old white and blue Chevrolet pickup truck, Joel’s jeans unzipped and your own jeans pulled down around your knees along with your underwear. He’d had you bent over, but still standing at a point where you could peek over the bed of the truck so that you could somehow keep a watchful eye out in between the moments of mind-numbing pleasure—both for any signs of potential danger and also for Ellie, who was passed out, curled up into a little ball in her sleeping bag and completely unaware of what her two reluctant protectors were doing behind the vehicle right next to her.

Your bottom lip was busted, bruised from biting down on it so hard.

The deal had been no noise, not even a single whimper, although you couldn’t remember how well either of you had stuck to that rule in the heat of the moment. It had been a quick fuck, just enough to give you and Joel some much needed relief from all of those pent up stresses and frustrations you two were carrying on your shoulders since Ellie had entered your lives just the week before. And just like back in the Boston QZ, Joel said nothing to you once it was over and done with.

It never hurt your feelings. It was just how things were.

It was some sort of twisted, fucked up unspoken pact the two of you had. 

Joel Miller fucked you, and then he just pretended like nothing ever happened, not until the next time he found himself buried inside of you.

It’s not like you expected Joel to return your feelings.

Hell, you weren’t even sure the man knew how to feel anything but anger, bitterness, and violence. 

Afterwards, Joel took you up on your offer to keep watch and slept for a couple of hours until sunrise came and had you both moving, packing up the truck and getting ready to continue the long drive ahead to Wyoming.

“She’s been oddly quiet,” Joel mumbled to you as he packed up the remnants of the small campsite into the bed of the pickup truck. “Go check on her.”

Obediently, you nodded and dropped the sleeping bag in your hands before turning away and walking over to where Ellie was sitting cross legged on the ground, her fingers mindlessly fiddling with a small, broken tree branch on the ground. “Hey,” you offered her a small smile. “It’s almost time to get going. You doing alright over here?”

She looked up at you and gave you a small nod. “Yeah. Just cold as fuck since we can’t have a fucking fire going,” she said, tossing a tiny glare over in Joel’s direction. “But other than that? I’m just fucking peachy.”

You chuckled and shrugged out of your worn out, brown windbreaker jacket. You draped it over Ellie’s shoulders before taking a seat beside her on the ground. She may have been a thorn in Joel’s side—then again, who wasn’t a thorn in Joel Miller’s side—but you’d warmed up to her fairly quickly. A lot quicker than your partner, anyway. He was still a work in progress.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Ellie nodded, clutching your jacket close. “Kinda,” she shrugged her small shoulders. “The ground was really hard and uncomfortable. I woke up a couple of times throughout the night and had trouble falling back asleep.”

Your smile faded ever so slightly. “Oh? You did?”

Noticing the sudden change in your demeanor, a small smirk crossed the girl’s face. “I knew you and McGrumps over there were a thing.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva as you nervously sputtered out, “W-What the hell are you talking about?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow at you, shooting you a knowing look as her smirk widened.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Ellie had caught you and Joel while you two were—fucking?

Mortified did not even come close to cutting it.

“Oh god,” You muttered, your face on fire. 

“I really hope you two are being smart and using protection,” she added teasingly. “What’s that saying? Wrap it before you tap it?”

“Ellie!” You hissed, glancing over your shoulder. Joel went about his business and it was times like these where you were actually thankful that his hearing wasn’t what it used to be. You turned back to her and quickly started trying to explain yourself. “Ellie, I don’t know what you think you saw but—”

“Oh, it was too dark to see anything. I heard you guys.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “Back behind the truck.” She paused, thoroughly enjoying every single moment of complete and utter discomfort she was causing you. “You know, if that’s gonna keep happening, I’m really gonna need you guys to find me a Walkman with some headphones. Noise cancelling headphones, please and thank you.”

You dropped your head into your hands and anxiously rubbed your face with your palms. “Fuck. I’m really sorry, Ellie,” Was all that you could say.

What else could you say?

Sorry you had to hear me getting fucked by my partner while you were laying just feet away in your sleeping bag?

“Sorry for what? For not being able to keep it in your pants?” Ellie giggled, slapping your knee with her hand in an attempt to get you to lighten up. “I get it. Nature. Hormones. Biology and shit.”

You lifted your face from your hands. “Joel can’t know,” You warned her. “Or he won’t be able to look you or me in the eye ever again.”

Ellie groaned in exaggeration, throwing her head back. “Aw, come on! I really wanted to see him squirm.”

“Me squirming should be fucking enough you little shit,” You laughed, shoving her playfully with your elbow. Once both of your giggles had subsided, in a more serious tone, you told her, “And for the record, we are not a thing.”

Ellie stared at you in disbelief. “Get out of here, you lying sack of shit! You totally are!”

“I know it’s hard to understand. But just because two people—” You trailed off, trying to choose your words carefully. It was more often than not that you had to remind yourself that despite what Ellie had been through and all she had seen, she was still fourteen. A fucking child.

“Bump uglies?” she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

You sighed. “Jesus Christ, please don’t ever fucking say that out loud again.” You paused briefly, running a hand through your hair. “But yes. Just because two people do what he and I were doing, that doesn’t mean anything. For a lot of people, it can be quite meaningless actually. It does not mean they are a thing. Me and Joel? Not a thing. Understood?”

Ellie blinked. “That’s probably the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Even before last night, I knew you two were a thing. Whether either of you admit it or not. I can tell.”

You knew better than to play into what she was saying, but the sheer curiosity got the better of you.

What had Ellie noticed about you and Joel?

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, bringing her knees up to her chest. “I dunno. The way you look at him. The way he looks at you. He’s a guy who doesn’t seem to give a shit about too many things or too many people. But I know he does give a shit about you. He cares about you. Even if he might have a shitty ass way of showing it.”

You glanced back over at Joel and then back at Ellie, confused.

“And you can deny it all you want. But if there’s one thing that stone cold asshole cares about, it’s definitely you,” Ellie stated firmly.

Your mouth fell open slightly, unsure what to say to her.

“What the hell are you two yappin’ about over there?” Joel called, looking over his shoulder.

“Nothing!” Ellie practically sang, causing him to roll his eyes and turn his attention back to his task.

“Well then, get off your asses and let’s get a fuckin’ move on. Ain’t got time to waste.”

[fastbrother]

Detention (E, 1k words)

Harry spends his eighth year recontextualising his relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Tags: Only One Broom, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff and Smut, Praise Kink, Top!Harry Potter

Author's note: Drarry one-shot I wrote for @kk1smet's birthday. Thank you for creating such wonderful art for this fandom, and for letting me use it here! K's original art post can be found here, and you can see more of her art at the bottom of this post!

* * *

They’ve been fighting since—well, since forever. But also since noon. The sky is dark now, and Harry has run out of patience. He turns on his heel, leaving Malfoy to scream into the void.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’m going back to the castle. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Out of the question. I’m not spending another day—”

Harry can’t think of many things crueller than the detention McGonagall came up with for them. Another day stuck in the forest with Malfoy and he might just crack. But he’s already cracked, hasn’t he? He’s cracked about a thousand times today. 

“Suit yourself. If you can find unicorn hair in the dark, then by all means, go and find it. I’m going back.” 

And with that, Harry mounts his broom.

“Don’t you dare leave me here alone.”

“Then hop on.”

There’s a break, a little silence.  

“Fine. We’ll go back. But I’m flying.”

“Whatever,” Harry says, too tired for another fight. He dismounts, and offers the broom to Malfoy. 

The sound of crushed leaves fills the air as Malfoy comes closer, then grabs the broom in one swift motion. 

They get on.

Why did Harry think it was a good idea to only bring one broom? He’s uncomfortable, seated much too low, and has nowhere to put his hands. He hates not being in control of it, too. Malfoy flies with too much grace, a sin he didn’t know existed until that very moment. 

Time passes slowly.

Harry’s just got used to the precarious balance when a Thestral whizzes by.

“Ah,” Harry says, against his will, and wraps his hands around Malfoy’s waist. At the same time—or was it earlier?!—Malfoy’s hand lands on Harry’s calf, making Harry swallow the sorry he was about to blurt out. 

Surely, Malfoy will say sorry himself. Or remove his hand. 

He doesn’t. 

So Harry doesn’t remove his hands either. 

They land, and Malfoy’s hand lingers for a second too long.

They’re silent on the way to the castle. It’s bizarre, because the two of them are never silent. They bicker in class, when they’re forced to sit together for “the optics.” They bicker in the corridors, when they bump into each other. They bickered all day today. And now they’re silent, too silent, and the ghost of Malfoy’s touch buns a hole through Harry’s jeans.

Their footsteps echo against the stone walls. And then they stop. They’ve reached the staircase where their paths diverge. Harry has to go up the stairs, while Malfoy carries on.

They look at each other, neither of them moving. Then, at the same time, they act. Malfoy clears his throat. Harry walks towards a broom closet. 

Malfoy follows him in. It’s dark, much too dark to see, but he hears Malfoy dropping to his knees. He lets out a sound when he feels Malfoy’s hands parting his robes. The sounds intensify when Malfoy takes his cock out, and puts his mouth on it. It’s all so unexpected, so wonderfully wet and generous, Harry feels around until he touches Malfoy’s head. He’s really there. 

Fucking Draco Malfoy. Is on his knees. Sucking him off. 

Harry finishes in his mouth, and only afterwards realises he’s been panting. 

* * *

Harry corners Malfoy after Charms. Since last night, he’s had time to think. Truly, he’s had so much time to consider everything that’s ever happened between them, all the nuances of their relationship, all the ways in which they came together. And with all that knowledge safely stored in his brain, Harry locks the door.

Malfoy sinks to his knees. The light spills through the arched windows, and Harry can look into his eyes as he takes Harry in. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry says, watching Malfoy’s lips strain against his cock. “I want to fuck you.”

Malfoy is a good little boy, because he releases his cock, stands up and bends over Flitwick’s desk. Harry lifts up his robe. 

“You’ve finally shut up,” Harry says, inserting one finger into Malfoy’s hole, pulling a moan out of him. “I love that.”

Harry doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but figures out enough. When he’s close, he pushes Malfoy back on his knees and comes all over his face.

Malfoy licks it off his lips. He’s finished in his pants.

* * *

Harry fucks Malfoy everywhere he can. He fucks him in deserted classrooms. In broom closets. The prefects’ bathroom. He fucks him so much and so often, they’ve both fallen behind on schoolwork. When they get detention for it, Harry fucks Malfoy on the forest bed. 

* * *

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Harry says, looking down at Malfoy. It’s the Christmas hols, and all of Malfoy’s roommates are away. It’s the first time they fuck in a bed.

“You’re beautiful,” Malfoy says, and drags Harry into a kiss. 

* * *

“You’re insatiable,” Draco says when Harry falls into step with him after breakfast. “We have Potions in five minutes.”

“Five minutes is plenty of time.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but lets Harry drag him into a broom closet. 

They waste most of the five minutes kissing, and then another five undressing. By the time Harry comes all over Draco’s chest, the bell ringing is a distant memory. 

“If we get detention again, I’ll kill you,” Draco says while he picks up his robes from the floor. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry says, cleaning them off both. “You go first.”

Harry waits two minutes before going into the classroom. 

“Professor, sorry I’m—”

His gaze falls on Draco, sporting a red tie and looking at Harry in horror. Just like everybody else.

Harry looks down at his own green tie. 

“—late,” he concludes, amidst rising bouts of laughter.

“Shh,” Slughorn says, trying and failing at suppressing a grin. “Ah, nothing like young love, is there? But also, detention to the two lovebirds.”

Harry shrugs at the Gryffindors’ shocked faces, then sits down next to Draco. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, a hand on Draco’s knee under the table.

“I’ll never forgive you,” Draco says solemnly. 

That night, they fuck—and sleep—in Harry’s bed.

Super adorable chibi art of them fondling each other on the broom © @kk1smet! 💖

[foerchen]

chapter 1 of my fic "swapped" is up!

Jesus fucking Christ, guys. What the hell??? So my little inspiration post for this fic popped off which is crazyyy! We are now 202 birdwatchers! THANK YOU SO MUCH!

A little disclaimer for this fic though: Uni has just started, meaning that my spare time isn't as much as it used to be. Because of this it'll take significantly longer for me to write fics I'm actually proud of and want to be read by you guys, so please bear with me, alright?

I made this fic a multi chapter one because I have too many fun ideas AND most importantly to relieve some pressure off myself.

(Because as much as I'm grateful for all of the attention my post regarding this fic has been garnering, I won't lie to you guys and say that it hasn't terrified me. I mean, about 50 people or so want reminder tags??? So I do feel the pressure for this fic not to disappoint y'all.)

Nevertheless, I am eternally grateful for all the support. To all of my fellow writers, please do not stress yourselves out, okay? Health and real life ALWAYS goes first! <333

swapped - Chapter 1 - foerchen - Batman - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

HAVE FUN READING THE FIRST CHAPTER! MORE IS TO COME! <3

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ- Reminder Tags for my lovely Birdwatchers: -ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

@yjcorefourenjoyer @mercurialthesaurus @lesbian-disaster-tm @toracainz @aceofbooksandtea @txxmxnyfxndxms @crumpetxd @passing-through-bd @thescarletcryptid @nyastri @my-brain-soup @some-dumbass-on-the-internet @khaji-daa @blobsessedsposts @nightwing-simp @commit-arson-immediately @bexeris @ruba-17 @aplatypusshapedkite @gml0k1 @a-single-anonymous-duck @dyanasaur @littleakuma0ni @th3devilkin @k0rby42 @thepoetryandstartrekmaam @writerfromthestars @lightningstorm003 @threefandomsinatrenchcoat @humanoidluv @witchofhistory @willsolace-loml @sunafterwinter @phantomcannon @livingcadaver7 @drakelorekitty @kireeen @gummylover15 @elizabethhood @secret-secret06 @magical-awesome-kid @angrymiau @spacecat773 @tumblerosestudios @dead-potato-monster

(some of these usernames are seriously creative and had me screaming ngl xD)

(the tagging took me 30 min T-T)

(hope it worked... I only tagged the people specifically requesting it o7)

[morning-star-joy]

pining and anticipation (Sub!Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Post-Outbreak, Sub!Joel x F!Reader

Summary: You and Joel have been longing for each other for months. When the tension finally seems to be about to break, you realize that the strong, tough man isn't as dominant as you would have thought.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit Smut: face sitting, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, creampie, dom/sub themes, Sub!Joel, praise kink, yes ma'am kink, orgasm denial kinda? Pet names: Joel calls Reader sweetheart, darlin', baby; Reader calls Joel cowboy, baby, sweetie, good boy. Arguments, Mutual Pining, Language

Wordcount: 4.8k

A/N: Forgive the bit of exposition! Also only gave this one readthrough before posting at 12:45 am so forgive any grammar issues too!

Joel x Reader masterlist

You knew Joel Miller was a complicated man, but that would never stop you from longing for him.

Besides, you weren’t the easiest person to be around either. Both of you were stubborn, and many of your discussions ended up in disagreements—nothing too heated, usually just differing opinions on how to handle situations that arose around the settlement.

Then came the day you may have pushed him a little too far, earning his rage by risking your life for him on a patrol. You had scraped by from the skin of your teeth, escaping being cornered by a group of Stalkers with skill and, honestly, more than a fair amount of luck.

Back at the safehouse afterwards, once Joel had made sure you weren’t too badly injured, any brief glimpse of concern for you that made your pining for him increase tenfold faded as his face morphed into thinly veiled rage.

“The fuck were you thinking?” he had snapped, grabbing your shoulders firmly, and your shock quickly shifted into a glare up at him.

“The fuck was I thinking?” you replied angrily, shrugging his hands off your shoulders before pointing a finger up at him. “The fuck were you doing, Joel? Heading in alone like that. Those Stalkers would have torn your head off.”

“They almost tore yours off,” Joel nearly snarled the words, pacing away from you as he ran his hands through his hair.

What ensued was a real argument, unlike any you had had before, emotions running high and tension ramping up until Joel interrupted you with a loud explosion of, “Jesus Christ, I can’t lose—”

You froze at the confession that nearly slipped past his lips, eyes wide as your heart raced in your chest, even as Joel quickly shut himself up when he realized what he was about to say.

His eyes were as wide as yours before he quickly closed his gaze off, brushing past you out of the safehouse, towards the horses with a mumble of, “We should head back. Need to get your injury looked at.”

During the days that passed after that, you didn’t catch so much of a glimpse of the surly survivor.

Left on your lonesome, you were doomed to repeat the words he had almost spoken over and over, wondering how differently things may be between you now if he had just fucking said them.

Because, Jesus, you wanted him to say them. You wanted it, wanted him, for so long that sometimes it felt like you could hardly breathe around him.

Yes, you got onto each other’s nerves more days than not. And, yes, you had both said some pretty nasty things to each other after that patrol that left you with a new scar on your hip.

But for all of his stoicism and emotional issues, for all your heated discussions and pointed glares, you had found yourself longing to see what…other ways you could explore this tension that had been building between you for months.

What you were not aware of, was how deeply Joel was longing for you, too.

It was something more than a pure physical desire, something that he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

When you were around, Joel felt at ease. Yes, you irritated each other, but somehow you were still able to bring Joel a sense of safety he thought had long since slipped from his grasp.

Just hearing your voice was soothing, healing to his damaged soul. Just seeing your face was calming, putting him at what was almost peace, or as close to it as he could get.

Really, Joel just had it so fucking bad for you, and if you wanted him half as badly, he would gladly let you do whatever you wanted with him.

He stood there now on the edge of your property, days after your most heated discussion, after you had scared him nearly half to death by risking your life. And for what? For him? No, no fucking way. He couldn’t lose you, especially not for the sake of his own survival.

Joel thought back then to how he had almost admitted to that fact: the knowledge in his soul that he couldn’t lose you, lest he be torn apart.

He had just barely stopped himself from admitting it then. But after not seeing you for days, after missing your face and aching to have you near him again, he was almost at the breaking point of just fucking saying it, if only to have you argue with him again about it.

If anything, he just wanted to see you. He just had to see you.

And there you were, sitting on your front porch, sipping coffee from a mug as you stargazed, like you weren’t even more captivating than those multitude of lights in the night sky.

Joel took one step forward across your lawn.

Stopped.

Took a step back.

What did he say? What the fuck could he say? How do you tell someone that you’ve been thinking of them day and night for months?

Dying to have them, dying to feel them.

Because, fuck, he wanted your body just as much as he wanted you.

Joel shook his head, snapping himself out of it as he repeated the same process.

Step forward. Stop. Step back.

Eventually, he must have shifted in some way that caught your attention, and your head lifted, glancing up from your mug towards where he still loitered on the edge of your property.

When you saw Joel there, you froze, brows furrowing as it took you a moment to realize it was him.

And when you did know exactly who was standing there, your mug nearly slipped from your grip, but you held onto it tighter, almost like you were trying to absorb courage from the warmth of the mug that seeped into your palms as you called out softly, “Hey there, Miller.”

Joel’s head tilted, but you couldn’t see his face, shrouded in darkness from where he stood as he replied quietly, “Hey.”

You waited for him to come closer, to step into the light so you could see him.

After a few moments, he did take a few steps closer, before stopping and taking one step back.

How fucking classic of him.

“So, what?” you started, scoffing under your breath as you raised your mug towards him to gesture towards where he was still hiding half in the shadows. “You gonna come here and just stand there?”

Joel didn’t respond. Unmoving, not speaking, and concern sparked through your body like a wildfire as you leaned forward, brows furrowed.

“Joel?” you said softly, placing your cup down on the small table next to your chair, rising from your seat to walk towards the porch railing.

At this angle, you could actually see part of Joel’s expression.

And when you saw his eyes, and the uncertainty, the pain, the fucking longing in them, your breath caught in your throat.

Then you were already down the porch steps, walking swiftly across the lawn to throw your arms around him and pull him down into a tight hug.

Joel’s arms wrapped around you quickly, holding you close without a hint of the doubt he had just been showing, and you sighed softly, placing your hand on the back of his head as his face rested on your shoulder.

“Oh, Joel…” you whispered, eyes shutting as you hoped you could offer him some kind of comfort to whatever he was torturing himself over.

There was no way for you to know that you somehow were making him feel so at ease, while also increasing that self-inflicted torture, that pining for you, by tenfold.

Your hand stroked his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades in a soothing manner as your other hand found his hair, fingers running through his curls as you murmured sweet words to him.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, closing your eyes as you sank into the embrace. Part of you had a feeling he was still beating himself up over the close call on patrol, and you whispered, “I’m here, Joel. I’m always here.”

After a moment, you heard his deep voice rumble next to your ear as he replied, “I know.”

Joel pulled back then, glancing over your face with that look of longing still in his eyes, and your heart ached with equal longing for him as he gently placed a hand on your face.

But when he gave you a smile, even though it was small and weak, you returned it without a second thought, your own hand reaching up to rest over his as you sank into the touch.

Emotions were hard for you, the same way they were difficult for Joel. Neither of you were all that good at expressing your emotions.

And so you let your hand drop, glancing away from him in a way that made his own hand fall from your face as you asked quietly, “Do you want to come inside?” 

You glanced over his tired face, the bags under his eyes, and added, “I have coffee on the stove, if you want some.”

A soft laugh left Joel’s lips, the sound of it making your heart race, and he replied softly, “Yeah. Coffee sounds real nice right about now.”

Your smile brightened at that, and you couldn’t help but wink as you teased, “Knew you couldn’t turn down a hot cup of coffee.”

Turning, you led the way back up your porch to your front door, only stopping to pick your own mug back up before bringing Joel inside.

In the kitchen, you were in the midst of pouring him his coffee when his next words hit you out of nowhere, nearly making you drop the pitcher, “I missed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide before you softened at the words he said so surely, so warmly.

The fight you had after that patrol was stupid. He had been scared that you got hurt, and that it had been to keep him safe. And you had been angry, determined to do what it took to protect him.

Days had gone by without you speaking to each other, feeling regret for your argument.

Now all you wanted was to tell him exactly how you felt.

And so you did. 

“I missed you too, Joel,” you murmured, giving him another smile as you passed the mug to him.

Your fingers brushed over his, and your heart rate jumped before accelerating, suddenly feeling hot all over by how his gaze darkened at your touch while he watched you over the rim of the mug.

“It’s far too quiet when you’re not around,” he drawled slowly, and you huffed out a quiet laugh, crossing your arms over your chest as you glanced away.

With your gaze averted, you didn’t notice the way Joel’s eyes were drawn to the collar of your tank top, noting how the fabric dipped to show your cleavage, pressed together from your arms, the sight sending arousal shooting straight to his cock.

But when you looked back, even though Joel’s eyes had lifted from your chest, you still caught the way his pupils were dilated.

Your head tilted, glancing over his face, noting the way he sucked in a breath just from the way you were analyzing him closely. Eyes dancing down his form briefly, you quickly noticed the bulge that was already forming in his jeans, and desire pooled between your legs just at the sight of it.

Biting your lip, you looked back up at Joel, watching as he cleared his throat and shifted, gripping the handle of the mug tighter as he looked at you in a way that almost said he was anticipating something.

Anticipating you?

Interesting.

“Really?” you asked, smiling at him as you took a step closer towards him. “You really missed little ol’ me, Miller?”

Joel’s breath escaped him in a heavy exhale, his dark eyelashes fluttering as you stepped closer and he found himself whispering earnestly, “Really.”

“Careful with the flattery, cowboy,” you hummed, stepping up right in front of him to fix the collar of his flannel where it had gotten messed up during your hug earlier. “I may think you wanna kiss me or something.”

You bit your lip at the boldness of your comment, avoiding his eyes as your cheeks flushed at the words you spoke.

But you were starting to get a strong feeling, standing here with him like this, and when you felt his chest begin to rise and fall faster under the warmth of your palm now resting on it…

Gotcha.

“Well,” Joel said slowly, and you glanced back up at him, watching as he licked his lips slowly, his gaze on your own as they parted while he murmured, “Maybe I do.”

Heart racing, a large smile slowly curled onto your lips, and your hand moved to rest on his shoulder as you leaned in closer.

“Oh yeah?” you hummed, blatantly, shamelessly flirting now as you continued to watch him closely for his reactions that were slowly helping you put the pieces together on just what this strong, stoic man wanted you to do to him. “How would you want to kiss me, Joel? Describe it to me.”

Joel bit his lips now, his mind spinning at your flirtatious words, and he slowly set the mug down before reaching for your hip at your demand—demand. Fuck, he was a goner.

“Well, darlin’...” Joel whispered as he tugged you closer a bit with the large hand that covered your hip. “First, I’d pull you in real close."

You hummed, your pussy now throbbing with a need to have his hands or mouth on it, completely fucked by the way he was looking at you, like you were…everything.

“Would you hold my waist, then?” you asked, glancing down to where his hand rested on your hip before looking back up at him through your eyelashes. “Or my hair?”

“Your waist, your hair…” Joel murmured, his hand stroking along your hip and up your side before he lifted it to run through your hair, a sigh slipping past his lips before he whispered, “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

“Anything?” you whispered, your breathing becoming heavier just from the heat of the moment, the tension that kept growing between you.

You wondered how long it would take before it broke.

“And would you stop there?” you asked quietly, deciding to test the waters, to take a leap to see if you really could satisfy that ache in your core that he was causing. “At a kiss? Or would you want…more?”

Joel faltered then, eyes wide as his fingers nearly became tangled in your hair before he grabbed the strands tighter, drawing a quiet moan from your throat that elicited a low groan from him in turn.

“More,” he murmured breathlessly, head tilting down as he stared at your lips as they began to tilt up into a smirk.

“Where would you want me, Joel?” you asked breathlessly, deciding to play your game with him for a little longer. “Against the wall?”

You let your voice get low, husky, your panties so damp with your desire at this point as Joel breathed heavily, hot breaths falling against your lips as your faces naturally moved closer as you continued to tease him, “Or would you want me in my bed, Joel? On top of you, or below?”

“On top,” Joel murmured without a second thought, that fucking Southern drawl a low rasp now, and you shivered at the sound of it, at the hints of his submission that you had been picking up on, that were now becoming even more clear to you.

A moan got caught in the back of your throat as he admitted he wanted you on top, lips parting with need.

“I bet you’d like that, huh?” you whispered seductively, tilting your head back and leaning up so your lips brushed against his jaw, humming at the feeling of his scruff there. “You’d like seeing me like that. I bet the thought gets you all hot, hm, Joel?”

He groaned again at your words—a low, delicious sound that made you want to sit him right at your kitchen table so you could suck his dick until he was seeing stars, right then and there.

“It does,” Joel admitted, his voice almost one of defeat, but also of pure, unadulterated lust as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough to feel his erection through your pants, and your head tilted back, lips parting as you rolled your hips against his, revering in the moan your movements pulled from the back of his throat.

You shivered at his moan, feeling yourself get so fucking wet you were sure your pussy could take his entire cock in one stroke now, your body growing hot as you leaned back down to kiss his neck a few times before biting down softly, lapping your tongue against the mark before whispering, “Do you like me marking you, Joel? Do you like me claiming you? Making you mine?”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed at your bite, his large hands grabbing your hips tightly, directing them up against his erection, creating friction that made you both moan as he whispered desperately, “Oh God, yes. Yes, I’d do anything, baby. Everything for you.”

“Joel,” you gasped, pulling your face back, unable to resist him anymore, giving up on your teasing as you grabbed his face and leaned up to kiss him.

It was hard and passionate, desperate even, your lips moving together as if you couldn’t get enough of each other as you kissed for the first time, with a hunger you didn’t think either of you had truly experienced for anybody else in a long time.

“Joel,” you gasped his name again, hands grabbing at every part of him, like you were trying to take him in all at once, but it wasn’t enough.

Too many clothes, they needed to come off, now.

“Come on,” you murmured in between passionate kisses, tugging him after you towards your bedroom. “Let’s make your fantasy a reality, cowboy.”

“Sweet God,” you heard Joel whisper behind you, hand gripping yours tightly as you led the way. “Yes, please, ma’am.”

You whimpered at that slip of ma’am, unable to resist murmuring a “good boy” at the sound of it as you turned back around once in your bedroom, pulling him right back into your arms at the sound of his unabashed, low moan at your praise.

Tugging at his clothes, it didn’t take long until they were covering your floor, leaving him completely undressed with his red, leaking cock slapping against his stomach with the push of his boxers down.

You moaned at the sight of it, large and hard, just for you. Throbbing and ready to spill inside of you, but you weren’t going to let him get off that easy.

Pushing him back onto the bed, you watched him with half-lidded eyes as you murmured, “Lay back and watch, baby.”

You watched Joel settle back against your pillows at your words, loving how his cock twitched, needing to be touched, to be satisfied, as he watched you make a show of undressing for him.

Your hands slid over your skin as it became bare for his eyes, teasing and squeezing yourself in just the right places that would accentuate your natural curves and make yourself feel good, biting your lip at every groan that left Joel’s throat as he watched you. You stared at the swollen head of his cock as you brushed your thumbs over your nipples and moaned for him, clenching your thighs together as he whimpered at the sight of you stimulating yourself.

“What was that, Joel?” you murmured as you heard him mutter something under his breath, some kind of sound of approval, as you let your panties fall to the floor, stepping out of them before crawling up onto the bed.

You hooked your legs around his waist, hovering above him so your pussy wasn’t touching him, but letting him see how soaking wet you were, how ready to be filled by him you were, as his head tilted back against the pillows with another whimper as you demanded, “Use your words, sweetie.”

Joel’s eyes flickered all over your body, as if he couldn’t decide what to settle on, what part of you deserved the most worship, until finally he whispered in a rasp, “Perfect. Fucking perfect. You’re a goddamn goddess, darlin.”

You laughed softly, eyes bright with warm amusement at his words.

“What a pretty mouth,” you whispered, teasing his cursing before leaning down to kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth. “I want to taste every moan you make, baby. Keep making those sounds for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel nearly whined his submission, and you kissed him harder, faster, before pushing him back down even further against the pillows.

“Get comfortable, Miller,” you instructed as you began to pull yourself even higher up his body. “Want to sit on your face.”

“Oh fuck,” Joel whispered, eyes wide with lust, his hands grabbing your hips—not directing your movements, but following them as he leaned back, and you situated your pussy above his face. “Yes, oh God. Fucking yes, sweetheart.”

You hovered above him, teasing him with your dripping folds inches above his mouth, watching with pleasure as he parted his lips, tongue darting out to try and taste you, but you leaned your hips up and away from him.

After a few more times of teasing him like this, Joel whimpered, fingertips pressing into your thighs with desperation as he whispered roughly, “Please, darlin’. Let me taste you, I’m dying for your sweet pussy.”

You whined, biting down hard on your lip as you grabbed his hair, tugging it to make his head tilt back, forcing him to make eye contact with you as you ordered, “No touching yourself, Miller. You hear me? You’re gonna cum inside me. I’m gonna take every last drop of you. No touching yourself.”

Joel’s hips were thrusting weakly into the air at your words, desperate for friction, but he nodded, eyes wide and completely submissive as he rasped, “Yes, ma’am. Anything. Anything for you.”

You nodded, whispering “good boy” before finally lowering yourself, still using your hand in Joel’s hair to direct him towards your pussy so he could drag his tongue along your folds for the first time.

He moaned at the same time you did, your head tilting back as his tongue traced that path again, and again, lost in the taste of you as you slowly seated yourself fully on his face.

You whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair at the feeling of his face pressed completely to your pussy, the strong slope of his nose bumping against your clit making you gasp, toes curling as he repeated the motion while his tongue slipped past your folds and inside of you.

Joel fucked you with his tongue, rapidly picking up the pace as he grabbed your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his nose rubbing against your clit until you were shamelessly riding his face, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you whimpered your way through the build of pleasure.

If Joel was having a hard time breathing, he didn’t let you know, holding you tight against his face as his tongue delved into you again and again, stroking along your walls and pulling increasingly louder and obscene noises from your throat while his nose stimulated your bundle of nerves until you were coming against his face for the first time.

Your toes curled, vision blurring at the intensity of the orgasm, hips gyrating to rub yourself all over his mouth while you rode out the high, soaking his facial hair with your release until he had to pull back with a gasp.

“Joel—”

“More,” Joel panted, readjusting his grip on you, taking a few more deep breaths before pulling you right back onto his face, making you gasp, hips jerking forward as his skillful tongue quickly brought you reeling from the end of one orgasm right into the next.

You lost count of how many times Joel made you come like that, unable to tell one orgasm from the next as he muttered “more, more, I need more,” until you were pulling him away from your pussy with your hand in his hair, slipping off of him with a satisfied, lazy grin as you saw the evidence of your orgasms all over his face.

“That’s enough, baby,” you whispered, shaking your head at the brief concern on Joel’s face, placing your hand on your chest to reassure him before you added, “Wanna make you feel good too. You’ve been such a good boy for me, Joel, you deserve a reward.”

Joel’s chest was rising and falling with heavy pants as you moved back down it, lowering yourself to rub your pussy that was soaked from your desire and his saliva over his throbbing cock, eliciting moans from both of your throats at the contact.

“Jesus,” Joel whispered, head tilting back, mouth falling open just from the feeling of you grinding your wet cunt against his cock. “I—fucking hell, darlin’, not gonna last long if you keep teasing me like that.”

You planned to finally show Joel mercy, wanting to make him cum so hard that he’d forget anything other than your name, but you couldn’t resist replying huskily, “You’re gonna come when I tell you to, Joel. Understood?”

Joel whimpered, and you pulled your hips away from him slightly, causing his hips to lift in a desperate attempt to chase you, fingernails digging into the soft skin of your thighs as you repeated, “Understood, Joel?”

“Y-yes ma’am,” he gasped, nodding desperately as he looked down at you as your hand found his cock, bringing the head of it to push past your folds as he rambled, “Yes, please, I’ll do anything, whatever you—fuck!”

The last word was a snarl, Joel’s head tilting back against the pillow, hips lifting from the mattress as you completely sunk yourself down onto him in one go. His skilled pussy eating had left you more than ready, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock completely filling you up, letting yourself adjust to the size of him as he whispered to himself, words that sounded like he was trying to stop himself from coming now just from the feeling of being inside of you.

You slowly began to roll your hips, testing his reaction, and when he didn’t immediately burst, you lifted yourself up, letting his cock nearly slip all the way out of you before coming back down, drawing a harsh moan from his throat as his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“Lord have mercy,” Joel murmured under his breath, watching the way your breasts bounced with your movements as you rode him, slowly at first, then faster, hands finding his chest for leverage as you leaned forward, moving your hips to take him in and out, in and out, listening with satisfaction as he began to pray to you instead of any god.

Your name left his lips, over and over, in whimpers and pleas for release as you rode him harder, and you sighed in affection as you realized that even now, when he began to buck up into you to meet your movements, he was keeping himself from coming because you hadn’t given him permission yet.

Leaning down, you brushed your lips over Joel’s, whispering your new command against his mouth, “Come for me, Joel. Fill me up.”

With a cry of your name, Joel’s hands on your hips brought you down roughly to meet his hard thrusts once, twice, before his cock was pulsing deep inside of you, emptying himself into you as his dark eyes glazed over in complete release.

When his eyes regained a bit more clarity, and his cock began to soften inside of you, your hand stroked down his sweaty face, letting him slip out of you as you lifted yourself off of him, but not without giving him a long, deep kiss.

Falling onto your back beside him, you stared up at the ceiling, blissed out from your multiple orgasms and the satisfaction of feeling the intensity of his, the evidence of which was leaking out of your pussy and staining your thighs as you giggled to yourself.

“What?” Joel rasped, his eyes focusing on the side of your face, and you shook your head, turning to meet his gaze with a grin.

“Never would have pegged the big, tough Joel Miller for being a total sub, is all,” you teased, and Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes at your comment, even as a deep blush settled onto his face at the truth of it.

“Shut up.”

[mitchellpete]

Firsts

summary: You’re bad at playing hard to get, and you don’t want to let the opportunity slip. Maverick gives you your first motorcycle ride.

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x gn!reader

tags/warnings: maverick being flirty, shy!reader but also not really?, some drinking mentioned, overall fluff

word count: 1.4k

A/N: i feel terrible that i keep making excuses not to post so i'll let you guys have this one. i don't know who's still on top gun tumblr but i hope you guys are still around. and that you guys like this! it was supposed to be a drabble but..?? ANDDD one more thing: my request page has updated also!

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“Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

“I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you.

Except he doesn’t, because out of the many outings at the bar, tonight had been the first time he’d spotted you. You were ashamed to admit that it was kind of flattering having him follow you around for a good half an hour, even after you locked eyes with mustache Hawaiian shirt blonde guy across the room. Ah, it was all a game. But God, was Maverick pretty. And charming. You couldn’t decide whether you were bad at playing hard to get or if you simply didn’t mind being the game.

(It was definitely the former.)

Panic filled you later that night when you watched him slip his jacket on on the opposite side of the room. He was still distractedly rambling with his friend, however, and you took the opportunity to push past at least 5 people and make it out of the door before he did. 

What to say or do the moment he stepped out? Your head was empty. But hey, he’d see you out there, make another flirtatious comment, make you blush and then it’d go on from there, right? God, please. 

This had to have been like the fourth time you’d seen him. He was most certainly the prettiest out of all the aviators that confidently waltzed into the bar every time you and your friend met for drinks. 

Miramar. A lovely place, truly. 

Beautiful, too. The sunset is beginning to form, and you step towards the wooden fence separating the sand from the small parking lot in front of the building. A packed bar, only a few vehicles. You wonder if any of them belong to Maverick. You pray that he walks this way at all.

The beach in front of you is littered with people, families, couples. There is chatter everywhere, drowning out the sound of the bell on the door behind you, or the sound of his voice if he happens to be walking out, talking to his friend.

That’s why when you eventually zone out maybe a good ten minutes later, you don’t notice that he’s already walked past you, striding towards the vehicle closest to you. The motorcycle. Red, black, adorned with decals that match the patches on his pretty jacket. You wish you’d noticed. 

He’d certainly noticed you, watching you avoid his gaze as he swung a leg over and took a seat. “Going for a swim?”

FUCK.

Tongue in your cheek, you meet his eyes. “No. I.. needed some air. Where’s your friend?”

“Where’s yours?” A cheeky smile spread on his face as he reached for the handles. 

Oh, he’s sooooooo—

“Inside. I’m uh, actually waiting for another friend right now. She’s picking me up soon, I think.” Lies, lies, lies.

“In a car?” 

“On a motorcycle, actually. How fast does yours go?” Jesus Christ. You know nothing about motorcycles, by the way.

He leans slightly forward, intrigued by your response. “Faster.”

“Hm.” You glance out at the shoreline again, at the sun turning bright orange. You feel the warmth on your cheeks. Stupid. You’re playing hard to get again, for fuck’s sake. He’s too pretty, it makes you nervous. 

Lucky for you, he breaks the tense feeling in your stomach with a laugh. “Actually?” 

He sticks the key into the ignition, filling you with the slight panic from before that he’s slipping away.

You fake a snicker, although it comes out dry and humorless. “I’m kidding. I don’t know a thing about motorcycles.”

The sudden rev of the engine startles you, and he smiles. “Some people are just meant to look pretty on the back of ‘em, I think.”

There was already a warmth to your cheeks, but now it’s heat. “Well.. that sounds like fun.”

Furrowed brows. “Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

You snicker again, this time for real. “I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you. Playfully rolling his eyes, he revs the engine again and waves you over with his hand. “Come on.”

Your face falls. A different kind of panic. “Huh?”

“Just a quick ride. Before your friend gets here.”

“A-are you sure?” 

“You’re scared?” He grins.

“I—No. I just..” You hesitantly make your way over, your legs suddenly weak. “I drank a little, so I don’t—”

“Can you relax?” He laughs again, his laughter as pretty as he is. “It’s not scary, I promise. Here, step on that part. Just hold onto me and hop on.” He points down below and then sticks his arm out for you to grab.

“I’m not scared,” you mumble as you manage to perch yourself on the space behind him, careful not to grip his arm too tight. “I think you’re a little strange, is all.”

 “How so? You gotta hold onto me, sweetheart.” Another engine rev. What is his deal?

You lean forward as much as you can, pressing yourself to him and wrapping your arms around his middle. The seat behind his is slightly raised, and your face absentmindedly presses into the back crook of his neck. It’s too late to pull back when you realize, and the heat in your cheeks starts to burn. Nevertheless, you go through with your accusations.

“Well,” you begin, conscious of your voice as to not be loud in his ear. “You follow me around the bar for some stupid bet, and.. now you’ve forced me onto your bike.”

Ha. As if you hadn’t planned all of this. Sort of.

Another pretty laugh. “It’s a motorcycle,” he mocks you. 

That gets a laugh out of you, squeezing your arms around him a bit as he starts to move. 

“Although, I do have to say—” He halts, a foot firm on the ground, and turns to look you over his shoulder. “Out of anybody I’ve followed around the bar, you’re the only one I’d give a ride to.”

God. You think you’re already in love with him. “That so?”

He presses his lips together and nods, fake serious. 

Pressing your forehead to the back of his jacket, you chuckle. “I guess that means I owe you something.”

“I’ll start driving on one condition,” he offers, his tone playful.

“Hm?”

“Give me a kiss.”

Oh boy. It’s easy by now; you’re already melting into him. Glancing up, your surroundings become a blur and all the outside chatter, the bell on the door and the sound of the other cars go completely silent as you lean your neck to reach. It’s a peck, but it’s complete; all of your lips feel the soft skin of his cheek, plump from a smile under your kiss. And then your chin goes to rest on his shoulder, and next thing you know, you’re off. 

There’s suddenly wind; you weren’t prepared for your hair to flow, as he took off from the parking lot and immediately down the road.

You’re clinging onto him with all your might, maybe a little scared for a moment, but then it starts to feel nice. You don’t even recall the moment he’d slipped his aviators on; perhaps the little kiss you gave him left you in awe instead of vice-versa, or maybe it was the drinks you’d had earlier? Maverick says something but you barely hear it, your stomach fluttering in excitement as he swerves between cars to get out of their way, to fly by beyond them on the road and to make the moment about just the two of you. Nobody else on the road. 

He turns onto a different road, this one longer and less crowded, and you squeal as he starts going faster. A euphoric feeling overtakes you, and even in the wind, through the sound of the engine and Maverick’s muffled voice, you’re convinced you can’t let him slip away after this one either. 

“Maverick!”

Wind, wind, wind. The engine.

Tapping a hand on his side instead, you catch his attention. He slows down just a bit, momentarily glancing over his shoulder again before looking back at the road. 

“You wanna stop?” he yells.

“No!” you shout back. “I just wanted you to know something!”

“What is it?!”

You lean closer to his ear, face in the crook of his neck again. “I was lying! There is no friend!”

He grins. “I know!”