#TIN-BUTT

[beausling]

the joanie to my clairo🫂

[tench]

I finally dragged myself to play Inquisition again and here I am at the peace talks wrangling lesbians. Ungrateful task! (I'm not having fun, I'm very stressed...)

But, that aside, I don't get the people who want Cassandra to wear a dress when she clearly stated that she would prefer a formal armor over even a dress uniform (and I bet she'd look amazing in it). Bonus points it for sure would catch the eye of everyone around and help Varric escape his merchant guild

[nowhere302]

exclusive tour of angel's bag

[imaginarydaughterz]

i smoke all the time and i still make a point to watch where any smoke is going + never flick my butts anywhere it's not that hard people !!

[jjjjisun]

Asa and her family will help her move to her new apartment in Seoul, near her job as a member of the girl group BABYMONSTER. Since the car will be packed with her items, she will sit on her brother’s lap throughout the 2-hour trip.

With Asa In The Backseat

Asa X Male Reader | 3485 words

TW: Incest

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The vintage sedan that had seen better days was crammed like a tin of sardines. The backseat, meant for two, was now occupied by four: me, my younger sister Asa, and all her clothes and baggage. Our parents had insisted on bringing an oversized painting, leaving barely any legroom for us. Asa, perched on my lap, was the only one who seemed unbothered by the tight space.

Asa's head rested on my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck. She was small and petite, but her weight was solid on my thighs. I shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position, but the car's interior was as unyielding as our situation.

"I can't feel my feet," I muttered, wiggling my toes in my boots. Asa giggled, her breath warm on my ear.

"You're such a Daddy's Girl," she teased. "Can't even sit cramped for a few hours."

I squeezed her side, making her laugh louder. "And you're a little brat," I retorted. "Now, lift your butt so I can adjust."

Asa pouted but did as she was told, lifting herself just enough for me to readjust my legs. I stretched them out as much as the space allowed, feeling relieved. But as Asa settled back down, her weight landed differently this time, the crack of her butt pressing directly onto something unexpected.

I froze, my eyes widening. Asa, oblivious, started chatting with Mom again, her voice filling the car and the engine's hum. I tried to ignore the sudden throb, the heat building in my core. This was wrong. Asa was my little sister, off-limits in every sense of the word. But my body wasn't getting the memo. I tried to think of anything else, anything cold, anything that wasn't Asa's soft curves pressed against me.

But Asa shifted again, her head tilting slightly, her breath ghosting against my neck. I could feel her pulse, rapid and steady, against my chest. Her hair smelled like strawberries, a scent I hadn't noticed before. The car was suddenly stifling, the air thick with an unseen tension.

"Back off, Asa," I whispered, harsher than intended. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, but there was a flicker of something else, something that mirrored the heat I was feeling.

"Not until we get to the cabin," she whispered back, a small smile on her lips. She knew. She knew the effect she was having on me and wasn't stopping.

I leaned back, my eyes closed, trying to shut out the world. This was going to be a long drive.

I took out my phone, the screen casting a pale blue light in the dark car, and started scanning through my social media feeds—anything to distract myself from the warmth spreading through me, from Asa's weight on my lap. Asa, however, wasn't so eager to distract herself. She sat up slightly, her hands busy with her phone, but her body remained intentionally close.

"Hey, children." Dad's voice cut through my distraction. He might be looking in our direction even though the painting was blocking his view. “We're about to hit a bumpy road," he warned. “So, hold on to your seats."

I groaned internally. Hold on, like I wasn't already clinging to my sanity with Asa's butt on my throbbing erection. I tucked my phone away, bracing myself for the upcoming bumps. Asa looked at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief in the dim light. She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

The car hit the first bump, jostling us all. Asa's weight shifted forward, her bottom pressing harder against my lap. I sucked in a breath, my hips lifting slightly on their own accord, seeking more friction. Asa gasped, her head tilting back, her chest pressing against my hands that were gripping her hips.

"Asa," I hissed, my voice low and federated, "Stop moving."

But she didn't stop. She wiggled her hips slightly, her body soft and pliant against mine. "I-I can't help it," she stammered, but her voice was breathy and distinctly turned on. The road is so bumpy."

I could feel the heat radiating from her, could feel her heart pounding against mine. Mom and Dad focused on the road, not paying us any mind. I took a chance, my hands sliding up Asa's sides, my thumbs brushing against the underside of her breasts. She moaned loudly, and I froze, my eyes darting to the front of the car.

"Asa, is everything alright back there?" Mom asked, concern etched in her voice.

I could see Asa's face flush red, her eyes wide with surprise. "Y-Yeah, Mom," she stuttered, "Just, uh, the road is bumpy. It's uncomfortable."

I looked down at her, my eyes meeting hers. She was turned on. Her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted. She was enjoying this, the friction, the heat, the risk. I could feel my shaft hardening even more, pressing painfully against my jeans. This was going to be a long, bumpy ride.

The car corrected its path, and the road was smooth beneath its tires. But my body was still alive with the memories of the bumpy ride, my belly a whirlwind of coiled tension. Asa, still perched on my lap, seemed equally affected. Her breaths were short and shallow, her body pressed flush against mine. My hands, which had stilled during the conversation with Mom, resumed their exploration, my thumbs tracing circles on her midriff.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with arousal. Asa nodded, her head tilting to give me better access to her neck. I took the invitation, my lips pressing against her soft skin, my tongue tasting the saltiness of her. Asa moaned softly, her body arching slightly, pushing her bottom further against my throbbing erection.

"You're untouched, aren't you?" I said, my voice laced with desire. Asa chuckled, a sound that was more of a pant. "What makes you think that?" she challenged. I took her jaw and tilted her head to look at me. Her eyes were pools of desire, her cheeks flushed with heat. "Because you're reacting like you've never been touched before," I said, my thumb brushing against her bottom lip.

Asa's eyes fluttered closed, her mouth opening slightly, inviting me in. But the honk of a passing car brought us back to reality. I pulled back, my chest heaving. This was dangerous, too risky. We were in the car with our parents, for goodness' sake. I wanted Asa, yes, but not like this, not here.

I took out my phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers. I opened a messaging app and started typing.

*Are you a virgin, Asa?*

I felt her shift slightly, her eyes moving to the screen. She took her phone out, her fingers flying over the screen. My phone buzzed with her reply.

*Why does that matter?*

I could feel the smile tugging at my lips. This was a dance, a game of cat and mouse. And I was enjoying it. I typed again.

*If you are, what happened in the car was highly inappropriate.*

I watched her read the message, and I saw the corners of her mouth twitch. She was enjoying this, too.

*Well, then, I guess I'm not a virgin. A cucumber claimed that honor long ago.*

I stared at the message, my brain processing the image that flashed through my mind. I could feel the heat in my core intensify, my shaft hardening painfully against my jeans. This did not help the situation.

I looked at Asa, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She knew what she was doing to me and was enjoying it. I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear. "You're playing with fire, Asa," I warned. Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling with irrepressible joy.

"And you're just the man to put out the flames, aren't you?" she whispered back, her body moving slightly, her bottom rubbing against me. I groaned, my hands gripping her hips tightly, trying to keep her still. This would be a long drive, even with the smooth road. Because Asa had awoken something within me, something I wasn't sure I could put back to sleep.

I shifted beneath Asa, my body aching for release. I could feel her heat, her wetness seeping through my jeans, and it was driving me to the brink of insanity. I needed more, needed to touch her without the fabric barrier.

"Asa," I whispered, my hands moving to her thighs, "Lift your butt for a moment."

She looked at me, her eyes clouded with desire. She understood what I wanted, and she wanted it too. Slowly, she lifted her body, her hands gripping my shoulders for support. I moved quickly, unbuttoning my jeans and pushing them down, taking my underwear with them. Asa mirrored my actions, her shorts and underwear joining mine in a heap on the floor of the car.

When she lowered herself, her heat met mine, her wetness coating my shaft. She gasped, her eyes widening as she felt me, fully naked and hard, pressing against her. I slid my hand between us, gripping my shaft and aligning it with her entrance. I looked at her, seeking her consent, and she nodded, her eyes so intense I felt like drowning in them.

I pushed forward, my hips lifting as I slid my length into her tight, wet cunt. Asa's mouth opened in a silent scream as I filled her, her nails digging into my shoulders. I paused, giving her time to adjust, feeling the walls of her cunt pulsing around me.

"Is this okay?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. She nodded, her eyes closed, her body trembling. "I-I think so," she whispered back. "You're so big, it's... it's a lot."

I began to move, slowly, my hips rolling in a rhythm as old as time. Her tightness was exquisite, her body accepting mine with an almost overwhelming receptivity. I felt my shaft bump against her cervix, and she moaned softly, her head tilting back, exposing the long line of her neck.

I leaned in, my lips capturing the pulse point, my tongue tasting her skin. I wanted to mark her, so I tried to claim her as mine. She gasped, her hips moving, meeting mine thrust for thrust. Our bodies moved in a dance as old as time, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating in sync.

We stayed like that, moving slowly and quietly, our bodies speaking a language that needed no words. I could feel the tension building in my core, the heat spreading through my limbs. I was close, so close. But I didn't want it to end, didn't want this moment to be over.

I slid my hand between us, my fingers finding her clit, circling it in slow, steady movements. Asa's breath hitched, her body stiffening. I could feel her, her cunt pulsing around me, her body teetering on the edge. I wanted her to fall, wanted to give her this pleasure.

"Come for me, Asa," I whispered, my voice harsh with desire. And she did, her body convulsing, her cunt squeezing me so tightly I saw stars. I followed her over the edge, my body jerking as I filled her, my shaft pulsing with my release.

We stayed like that, our bodies connected, our breaths slowly returning to normal. I could feel the car moving beneath us, and I could hear the engine's hum, but all I could focus on was Asa, her body pressed against mine, her soft snores filling the car.

When she stirred, her eyes slowly opening, I leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "I love you, Asa," I whispered, my heart full. She smiled, her eyes soft, and whispered, "I love you too, Oppa."

And at that moment, everything was right in the world.

The car slowed down, Dad's voice cutting through the soft hum of the engine. "Alright, kids, we're approaching the tunnel. It's a bit of a mess due to some construction up ahead, so hold on. It might get loud and bumpy."

Asa's eyes met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The dim glow of the setting sun casting shadows on her face heightened her features, making her look like a temptress. A sly smile curved her lips, and she turned, spinning around to face me, her knees resting on the seat beside my hips.

"What are you doing, Asa?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

"Shh, Oppa," she whispered back, placing a finger on my lips. "Dad said it's going to be loud, right? No one will hear us."

Her words sent a thrill down my spine, and my body was already reacting to her proximity. The car jolted slightly, signaling our entry into the tunnel. Darkness enveloped us, the only light coming from the dim glow of the car's dashboard. Asa leaned in, her lips finding mine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, hungry and demanding.

I groaned, my hands moving to her hips, pulling her closer as she began to move, riding me like there was no tomorrow. Her breath hitched, her nails digging into my shoulders as she consumed me, her body moving in a frantic rhythm that matched the pounding of our hearts.

The tunnel was a symphony of sounds - the engine's hum, the construction's tap-tap-tap, our ragged breaths, and the soft, wet sounds of our bodies moving against each other. Asa's hands moved to the hem of her tank top, lifting it off her body swiftly. Her breasts, round and full, spilled out, her nipples hard and ready for my mouth.

I leaned down, capturing one of them, my tongue swirling around the hardening peak. Asa moaned, her hips moving faster, her body desperate for release. I could feel her, hot and wet around me, her body clenching tighter with each thrust. I switched to the other breast, my teeth grazing her nipple, making her gasp.

The car jostled again, the tunnel's construction creating unexpected bumps. Asa's body jerked, her nipple slipping out of my mouth. In my haste to reclaim it, my hand landed on the thin fabric of her tank top, ripping it in the process. Asa laughed, a throaty, wanton sound that went straight to my groin.

"I think you like destroying my clothes, Oppa," she teased, her fingers playing with the torn fabric.

"I think you like giving me reasons to," I countered, my hands moving to her breasts, my thumbs brushing against her nipples.

Asa's breath hitched, her body moving faster, her hips gyrating against me. I could feel the heat building in my core, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust. I moved my hands to her thighs, spreading them wider, pushing into her deeper. Asa moaned, her head tilting back, her hair cascading down her back.

The car hit a huge bump, and Asa's body spasmed, her orgasm ripping through her. I followed her over the edge, my body jerking as I filled her, my shaft pulsing with my release. The car emerged from the tunnel, the bright sunlight stinging our eyes, but all I could see was Asa, her body trembling with satisfaction, her eyes soft and loving.

"That was... intense," I said, my voice hoarse.

Asa smiled, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "It is, Oppa," she replied, her voice soft and sweet. And I knew, in that moment, that no matter what, our life would always be intense moving forward.

The sudden burst of daylight from the tunnel exit temporarily blinded us, but our bodies were still alight with the passion we'd ignited. As the car settled back onto the smooth road, I looked at Asa, her chest heaving, her nipples still hard and glistening from my mouth. I wanted more, needed more. I wanted to feel her lips wrapped around my shaft, wanted to hear the sounds she made as she took me in.

"Turn around," I commanded, my voice low and filled with desire. Asa's eyes widened, but she complied, quickly turning so that her head rested on my lap, her back pressed against the seat. I could feel the heat radiating from her, could feel her breath ghosting against my still-hard shaft.

"What are you going to do to me, Oppa?" she asked, her voice laced with anticipation. I smiled, my hands moving to her midriff, my thumbs tracing the curve of her belly.

"I'm going to worship you, Asa," I said, my voice filled with reverence. "I'm going to taste every inch of you."

Asa shifted slightly, her body twitching with anticipation. I started at her navel, my tongue dipping into the indentation, tracing the lines of her abs. Asa gasped, her body tensing as I moved lower, my lips kissing the soft skin just above her pelvis. I could feel her watching me, her eyes filled with desire and trust. I wanted to make this good for her, tried to make it unforgettable.

I moved my hands to her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I lifted her slightly, positioning her so that her mouth was now level with my throbbing shaft. Asa looked at me, her lips parting slightly, and I almost came undone. She looked like a goddess, a temptress offering herself to me.

"Take me, Asa," I whispered, my voice harsh with desire. She leaned in, her tongue flicking out, licking the bead of pre-cum at my tip. I groaned, my hips jerking forward, seeking more. Asa smiled, her lips wrapping around my shaft, taking me in.

I nearly lost it. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue swirling around me, tasting me. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back and make this last. I moved my hands to her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her moan around my shaft. The vibrations sent shockwaves through me, and I had to grip her hips to steady myself.

I moved my mouth lower, my tongue diving between her folds, tasting her. She was sweet, like honey, her body hot and wet and eager for me. I slid my tongue into her, feeling her body clench around me. Asa's movements on my shaft faltered, her body tensing as I pleasured her. I felt a thrill at being able to bring her to the edge of oblivion with just my mouth.

Suddenly, Asa's body jerked, her mouth slipping off my shaft as she gasped. I looked up, following her gaze, and saw a truck approaching. The driver had his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock as he took in the scene playing out in the backseat of our car. Asa and I froze, our eyes locked with the driver's as the truck passed.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, Asa burst into laughter, her body shaking with mirth. "Did you see his face?" she giggled, her body shaking against mine. I chuckled, my hands moving to her thighs, gripping them tightly.

"Looks like we put on quite the show," I said, my voice filled with amusement. Asa looked at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Let's give him an encore," she said, her mouth wrapping around my shaft again, her hands gripping the base tightly. I groaned, my hips lifting, thrusting my shaft deeper into her mouth.

I was close, my body tensing as I felt the heat building in my core. I wanted to come on her, mark her as mine. I moved my hands to her belly, my fingers splayed out as I felt her body clench around mine. She pulled my shaft out of her mouth, my hand wrapping around it, pumping it furiously. Asa watched me, her eyes wide and eager, her tongue sticking out, ready to catch my release.

I came with a groan, my body jerking as I spilled my seed onto her belly, coating her skin with my warmth. Asa's tongue darted out, licking the cum from her lips, her eyes never leaving mine. I smiled, my hand moving to her thigh, spreading the rest of my release onto her skin.

When the truck driver passed us again, this time going the other way, I turned, catching his eye. He quickly looked away, but not before I saw the smile tugging at his lips. I winked at him, then turned back to Asa, my hands moving to her face, cupping her cheeks.

"I can’t believe a KPOP idol is mine," I whispered, my lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. And I knew, as we pulled away from each other, our bodies satiated and our hearts content, that this was just the beginning.

As the car pulled into the cabin's driveway, Asa and I looked at each other, silently understanding. Our taboo relationship was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

[justwinginglife]

The LADS Men As Drivers

Caleb

Caleb is a road rager but he’s subtle about it. He’ll squeeze your thigh reassuringly, flash that dazzling smile, and then point to a peculiar cloud in the sky and ask you to guess what he thinks it looks like. He passes it off like it’s just a fun, little road trip game that he wants to play, but really, he’s distracting you so you don’t see him cut off the asshole in the truck and then make the most menacing eye contact with the driver that a human can possibly make as he passes by them. Then he resumes his smiley self shortly after, with you none the wiser. If you somehow manage to discern the slight increase in speed and ask him about it, he’ll simply say he was speeding up to get you a better view of the clouds you were so preciously naming for him. 

He definitely loads the car up with lots of snacks before a big road trip and STILL gets you more snacks whenever he needs to stop at a gas station because he loves spoiling you and stuffing you full. And speaking of gas, it’s a while before he has to load up because he already filled up the car the day before the trip so he was immediately ready to go. He’s excited for any time he can get with you; he’s not going to let a low tank ruin that. 

If the car gets a flat, you can be sure he’s replacing it himself. You’re not lifting a finger. And if the car needs fixing, you best believe he’ll be splayed out beneath it in an instant, examining all its parts with a keen eye, and in no time at all, it’s good as new. Sometimes you fake that your car needs fixing just to see him all greased up with oil, muscles tense as he cranks away with his tools. 

He definitely lets you pick whatever channel you want on the radio. And when you get tired of listening to ads, he passes you his phone and the aux, and reveals he’s already made a playlist for you with all your favorite songs on it. You didn’t even know you had that many songs you liked, but little do you know, every time you even somewhat enjoyed a song, even if you didn’t say you liked it aloud, even if it was just a bop of your head or a swaying of your hips to show you enjoyed it, he’d already saved the song. He can’t have his princess getting bored. Hell, he’s even got all the lyrics to your favorite songs memorized so he can enjoy himself with you. 

On a rare occasion, if he somehow gets into a car accident (in which case it’s definitely the other driver’s fault, not his; dude can pilot a plane, there’s no way he’s fucking up a car ride, and especially not when you’re in it), he’s very respectful and responsible about exchanging information with the other involved party, but inside, he’s slowly seething that they had the audacity to crash into him with you in the car. Don’t they know you’re precious cargo?

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Rafayel

Rafayel is a road rager as well, but unlike Caleb, he has no poker face. Or poker mouth. He’ll go on and on about how “they wouldn’t know what a turn signal was even if it got crammed up their butt” and then he’ll call Thomas to continue whining about it. He probably even has their license plate number to give to Thomas. Thomas has no idea what the fuck he is supposed to do with this information but he has to come up with something to satisfy Raf. 

He’s definitely the type to roast what someone’s car looks like. “Who thought that shade of bright yellow was a good idea on a rusty, tin bucket like that?” “I hope they didn’t pay a lot of money for that custom license plate because then they’d be stupid and broke.” “Do you think their windows are so ridiculously tinted that they can’t see my eyes rolling? Because that’d be a shame.”

He definitely over uses his horn even if he’s in the wrong. He also never thinks he’s in the wrong. If he hits a curb, it’s the curb’s fault for being there. 

He also makes up traffic laws that only apply to him. Like how he’s allowed to go 20 over the speed limit if he’s trying to get a good view of the sunset so he can paint it before it goes down. 

He usually lets you be the passenger princess, but when you do drive, he just gazes at you lovingly, tucking the hair away from your face so you can drive safely. He’ll even sketch the way you look so he can immortalize the picture of you smiling as the sun streams in through the window. If you get bored while you’re driving, he���ll entertain you by telling you stories or by describing the scenery on his side of the window. Sometimes, he’ll even combine the two. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. One day, she went into town and she met an…upside down scarecrow.” 

“An…upside down scarecrow?”

“I think someone’s scarecrow just got blown over in the wind. I thought it’d make for a compelling plot point.”

If the weather is bad, he insists on driving. He knows it stresses you out to drive when you can’t see clearly. If you’re at work and the weather is bad, he’ll pick you up. If he’s away on a trip but he knows you’re driving through a storm, he’ll keep you company on the phone to make sure you get home safe. “Just focus on the sound of my voice. Imagine that there’s a big rainbow waiting for you at the end of this storm. It’ll paint the skies in beautiful, bright colors, and you’ll forget there ever was a storm. Just keep talking to me until it passes. Can you do that for me, cutie? You’re almost home, you can do this. And when I get back, maybe we can go look for whatever is at the end of that rainbow, yeah?”

He teased you the first time you got in his car and kept adjusting the settings on his passenger seat, a little higher up, a little lower down, a little farther back, a little farther forward, until it was just right for you, “What are you, Goldilocks?” But once you decided on the most comfortable position to keep the chair in, he didn’t let anyone mess with it from then on. If Thomas or anyone else got in his car and tried to adjust the settings to their liking, he’d tell them to suffer or get in the backseat. He wants you to rely on him more, he wants to be able to pick you up from work or take you out on spontaneous drives, and he can’t do that if you’re uncomfortable in his car, constantly trying to adjust it to the way it was before. 

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Sylus

Sylus is a fantastic driver. He has to be; he has a million vehicles at his disposal. And sometimes he needs a speedy getaway. 

He definitely knows all the shortcuts and speed traps. And he smoothly weaves in and out of traffic whether he’s on a bike or in a car. He loves when you fall asleep in his passenger seat because he knows it means you trust him to get you home safely and he’s happy he can provide that comfort for you. 

He also travels for work, so he has the traffic laws for multiple countries memorized. Just because he’s not a law-abiding citizen doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to fly under the radar as one, should he wish it. He even knows the languages of the countries he frequents so he can read the street signs with ease and smooth talk his way out of a ticket if a cop decides to pull him over (not that he couldn’t just pay the ticket a million times over in any currency, but he likes to appear unassuming- or as unassuming as one with his height and build can be). He doesn’t draw attention to himself if he doesn’t need to. 

That being said, he does love to speed. It reminds him of flying, with the wind flush against him, and the hum of his bike as calming as the beating of his wings. And now that you’ve begun riding with him, pointing out every mountain and valley and river with nothing less than awe and excitement in your voice at every twist and turn, he’s begun to realize he also loves the way the scenery melts all around him like one, big, oil painting that’s just for his and your viewing as you chase the horizon together. He’s even begun to take the scenic routes more frequently on purpose, just to give you something to smile at. Of course, he’ll deny it if you accuse him of taking the long way just to make you happy. He’ll say something stoic like, “I simply had the time to kill and the means to kill it.” But when you thank him and rest your head on his shoulder as you watch the cherry blossom trees fly by, his heartbeat thunders louder than the motor on his bike. 

Sylus doesn’t see the point -or maybe he just doesn’t really understand- how roadtrip games work, but he shakes his head and gives you a small smile, as he agrees to a million rounds of “I Spy” just because he can’t get enough of the way your eyes light up with glee when you correctly guess what he’s thinking of. Or maybe he’s just amused that such a small thing can bring you such joy. 

Sylus has ONE car that he puts all the stickers you give him on. He can’t very well be driving around town, going to meet his high end associates and business partners, with multiple, doe-eyed crow stickers all over his windows and bumpers, now can he? But he also can’t throw away something you gave him, so what does he do? He deposits them all on one car and uses that car to drive you around, smiling to himself when you’re swinging your feet all cutesy and happy in his passenger seat as you busy yourself examining all the stickers to make sure they’re in tip-top condition. 

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Zayne

Zayne is such a safe driver that you sometimes accuse him of secretly being a grandma in disguise. He won’t start driving until he knows you’re seatbelted and if you jokingly refuse to put the seat belt on yourself, he will do it for you. He’s not leaving the driveway until he knows you’re safe.

Zayne almost always goes the speed limit and on the rare occasion when he does speed, it’s only for emergencies at the hospital; even then, he only just barely goes over the speed limit. Even if he’s in a rush, he’s as careful as can be because he doesn’t want to cause an accident that will land yet another patient in his operating room. And if you’re in the car? He wouldn’t dare speed and risk your life. Plus, he’d be embarrassed if he got a ticket in front of you anyway; you’d never let him live it down. Breaking News: Grandma Zayne got pulled over for going 5 over the speed limit. 

There is one rule that he will break when driving though. He definitely eats while he’s driving, especially if it’s sweets. He tries to save the snacking for red lights and traffic jams, but sometimes the fresh box of pastries on his passenger seat is just too tempting for him to wait any longer. It’s lucky that as a surgeon he’s so proficient with using both hands, because it’s this skill that allows him to eat with one hand and drive with the other. It’s because of this snacking habit of his that he also keeps his car stocked with plenty of napkins and wipes for when he’s finished eating.

Zayne always calculates how much time it’ll take for him to arrive somewhere including a rough estimation of traffic, and he STILL leaves before the time he is supposed to so that he arrives early. He also gives you advice on your commute, calling you when he notices the traffic is heavier than usual to warn you to leave ahead of schedule. 

Zayne almost never carpools on the way to work because he doesn’t know how long he’ll get stuck at the hospital and he doesn’t want you to get stranded, waiting for him to finish. But that only makes the moments where he does get to ride with you all the more enjoyable. He loves the way your nose scrunches up when you’re annoyed that someone cut you off in traffic. He loves the way you cycle restlessly through the radio stations because you can’t decide on one channel. He’s used to chaos at the hospital, but somehow your chaos is comforting. 

He’s not that much of a road rager himself. He might mutter under his breath that someone was being “utterly ridiculous” but he usually keeps his thoughts to himself. It’s only a drive and he doesn’t feel like wasting the energy it would take to lash out at someone, and he certainly doesn’t want to ruin the mood for you. If he gets the chance to have a moment alone with you, even if it’s just the drive to the store, he will take that chance and he won’t waste it. He’ll ask you how your day has been, how work has been, how life has been, all while you’re sitting in traffic together. If anything, he might pray for the traffic to last longer so he can steal another minute more by your side. 

He loves to tease you about which route is faster. If he tells you to go left and you raise your eyebrow at him and decide to go right because you swear you know better, he will chuckle to himself and just wait for the moment when you cuss under your breath after hitting a particularly large patch of traffic that seemingly came out of nowhere. “You know, I also frequent this grocery store. So I believe I am familiar enough with the road to get there.” He says it so simply, but you know he’s having fun with the whole situation. “I suppose if a certain hunter wasn’t so focused on being right, we might’ve avoided this issue altogether.” A hint of smirk plays on his lips and you decide right then and there that he’s buying all the groceries. Smug bastard. 

************************************************************************

Xavier

(There is like one tiny minorly mature not explicit line)

Xavier usually takes public transportation; he prefers it because it allows him to zone out when he wants to and it’s less of a hassle than worrying about gas and repairs. But he’s noticed lately that there are things you want to do and things he wants to take you to that would be much more convenient with a car so he finally ended up buying a car for himself. When he first showed it to you, your eyes lit up like the stars and he knew in an instant that it was the right choice. Of course, once you were actually on the road and he saw you make the same face at someone else’s car, he definitely sulked to himself as he drove. But then you made a comment about what a cool feature his heated seats were and he quickly snapped back, proceeding to show off the other cool features in his car until he was satisfied that you weren’t going to go ogle someone else’s car after this. 

Xavier doesn’t usually road rage if he’s driving by himself. He doesn’t have the energy for it. But if you’re in the car, he will glare guns and daggers at whoever dares to tailgate or cut you off.

When you need to get gas, he’ll get out and pump it for you. Partially because he wants to do something for you and partially because once he saw a man hitting on you at the pump when he went in to buy you snacks and he had to restrain himself from getting in the car and running the guy over. 

Some people keep a change of clothing in the backseat of their car, some people keep snacks, Xavier keeps blankets back there. Ever since he discovered his car is fairly pleasant to sleep in, he has kept the car stocked up in case he decides to wait for you after work or running errands and sneak a quick nap in while he waits. He likes it even more when he gets to pull up to a lake or a park and lay the blanket out for the two of you to cuddle beneath while you enjoy the scenery. He could never do that when he was taking the train. He even got a car with a sunroof so you could both look up at the sky together. 

Xavier also fixes your car for you when you need it fixed. Besides the fact that he doesn’t trust the people at the shop to not scam you for every penny you have, advertising new tires and new windows and new wipers and new filters, he also just somehow happens to have a degree in engineering among all of his other skills and he enjoys taking apart pieces and putting them back together in a more efficient way. He enjoys it even more if it helps you. 

Xavier definitely argues with the GPS even though it can’t hear him. “Really? You want me to take a right here? Even though I could’ve sworn there was no right turn here? Interesting. I don’t recall paying so much for a fault system.”

Xavier definitely gets it on in the backseat, front seat, just all over his car really.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @tbaluver @inkytypewriter

[khryptid]

My two favorite things to see in one piece fic:

1) Sanji having a little tin to put his cigarette butts in (he wants to find the All Blue so why would he ever disrespect the ocean by just chucking them overboard)

2) Zeff referring to Sanji as the son that the sea gifted him (it’s so poetic and really leans into the duos love/faith in the ocean and their shared dream)

[hesperisms]

// The Alphabet of Sylus

"You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine."

// summary: my attempt at the lewd Alphabet A-to-Z of Sylus.

// content warnings: 18+ (mdni), the whole thing is lewd, says so on the tin.

// a/n: goes without saying, but these are just my personal headcanons around Sylus. yours may be different and that's A-OK.

likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

A // Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): Sylus knows he can lose himself a little during sex and get a bit rough, which can hurt because he's so big. Because of this, his aftercare is immaculate - it's so important to him to make it up to you afterwards. He will wait as long as you both can stand it to pull out of you, because sleeping inside you is his favorite place to be in the whole universe. He'll get up and draw you a steaming hot bath scented with fragrant oils and then come back to carry you bride-style and lower you into the tub himself. He'll slide in behind you and snuggle your back against his chest, soaping you down and kissing any marks he left on your throat.

B // Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner): Sylus' favorite body part isn't really a body part per se, it's his voice. He loves the effect his voice has on you, how the tiniest little thing whispered can set your pulse quickening and your cheeks flushed red. His favorite body part of yours is your wrists...he loves the delicate strength to them, the way they flex when your fists are wrapped around the butt of a gun, but he cannot get over how easily they melt under his palms when he traps your hands over your head.

C // Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): Lucky for you because he's so well-endowed, Sylus is an oozer. He leaks a lot of precum and it's very pale, almost translucent. When he cums, it's somehow always so hot that it feels like it's searing your body, branding him onto you and leaving a deeper mark each time. He tastes slightly sweet with a slight edge of muskiness to him.

D // Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): He knows the intimate details of your shared lifetime together; your past experiences, and while in this timeline you surprise him a lot, what never changes is the way your body reacts to his when you're alone together in the dark...

E // Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): Sylus has had dalliances before, but they were people attempting to sleep their way into his good graces for his influence and power. You're the first time he's had a relationship that is more than just physical, where he actually cares about you emotionally. Due to the nature of his previous relationships, he can tend to be a selfish lover and be a greedy with his affections.

F // Favorite position (this goes without saying): Sylus loves you in a mating press, your knees up over his elbows or his shoulders, getting as deep inside you as he possibly can, right up close nose to nose with you staring into your eyes as he bottoms out inside you.

G // Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): Sylus mocks you all the time, but never in the moment. When you're being intimate with him, trusting him with your body and your pleasure he takes it incredibly seriously. He treats you like his matriarch, his other half, and he wouldn't dream of doing anything to ruin those moments with you - he banks them away in his memory for when his work needs to keep him separated from you.

H // Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): Sylus is impeccably groomed and wears a cologne with notes of cedarwood, pomegranate, tangerine and a slight hint of musk. It's a dominant, masculine smell with just the slightest smoky sweetness to it and it reminds you of his kisses after he's been drinking gin fizzes and smoking cigars. He waxes, preferring to just rid his body of hair quickly and be done with it and to be honest, he kind of enjoys the momentary sting of the wax strip.

I // Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): It depends on if you're just having sex to satisfy a need, or if he's seducing you to satisfy his longing for you. If it's sex for need, he's dominant, confident, strong; he'll wrap his strong hands around your throat while he pounds you down into the bedsheets and love every second of your screaming his name. If he's having a moment of weakness and is lost in his memories of you and longing for his beloved? There's no one more gentle, he'll caress your cheek, peck kisses across your eyelids, cradle his arms around you like a cocoon until you feel like the two of you are the only things that exist.

J // Jack off (masturbation headcanon): Being somewhat long-distance with you, Sylus will masturbate with you, whether you know he's joining you or not...If you're home alone, playing with yourself in the dark and Mephisto reports back? Sylus will tune in through his cameras and watch you, trying to time it so that he cums with you. He's also open to phone sex with you when you engage and if you send him teasing pictures of yourself fresh out of the shower or lying around naked in bed pouting that you miss him, he'll send you back videos of him rubbing himself hard through his pants. He's shameless about his desire for you.

K // Kink (one or more of their kinks): Sylus loves to cum inside you, it's all he wants to do, he hates wearing condoms (though he'll never argue if you insist), and he loves mirror sex, whether it's sitting behind you with his legs locked around yours to keep your thighs spread, forcing you to watch as he pleasures you or just catching his own reflection and the way his hips clench when he's getting close to release, he loves it...it's probably an offshoot of his voyeurism from his time spent watching you through Mephisto's eyes, but he's addicted.

L // Location (favorite places to do the do): Sylus will take you any where, any time that you'll have him. He'd bend you over Jenna's desk in Unicorns HQ if you asked him to, but it has to be on your terms.

M // Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): Sylus gets incredibly turned on by your trust and submission to him, any time you're in a situation where you're putting yourself in his hands, he is fighting the urge to run with that consent and go wild exploring every inch of your body and marking it as his. Every time he's intimate with you, he's re-branding you, re-claiming you as his.

N // No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Sylus would do just about anything you asked him to sexually if you were genuine with your request, he's very emotionally mature and honest with you so if you came to him with a request to try something, he'd do it for you, but he draws the line at sharing you. No threesomes, no cucking, you are his and his alone.

O // Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): Sylus loves to eat your pussy, but he can be very intense and when he loses control it can be overstimulating and too much; it rare that he'd only eat you out, he's normally always got his fingers inside you at the same time, trying to stretch you and prepare you for his size. He's too big for you to suck properly, but he's fine with you jacking him off while you lick and suck on the tip because he's incredibly sensitive.

P // Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): The pace Sylus takes with you depends on the situation and the mood that you're both in; if you're both just horny and filling a need he'll be fast and rough with you, but if he's really in his feelings making love to you he'll be very slow and tender with you. Because he knows he can lose control he's very careful to let you set the pace, but he can't help but have a little smug satisfaction if you need his help to make it to the bathroom afterwards because your legs are too shaky.

Q // Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): They're not his choice, because Sylus likes to stay inside you until he's ready for another round and pick up right where he left off on pleasuring you, but if you beg for a quickie, he'll acquiesce and give it to you.

R // Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): Sylus is very open to experimenting with you if you want to ask for something and he's prone to high risk behavior with you; he could care less if he got you pregnant, because you're his and he wants you forever, so he'll happily cum inside you as many times as you let him - he doesn't care if you're taking a pill or have an implant, that's irrelevant to him and his desire to be with you.

S // Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): He's in peak physical fitness, so he can last. Each round with Sylus is a solid 20-30 minutes of intense sex, unless you tap out sooner because you feel like he's bruising your cervix and even then, he'll swap to going down on you and using his hands on you instead.

T // Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): After hearing you moan his name via Mephisto one night, a black wooden box appeared at the end of your bed one night. Sitting inside it on a bed of decadent red velvet was a polished black glass dildo suspiciously matching Sylus' exact size, right down to the veins. You'd blushed furiously when you realised, wondering how he could have commissioned this for you with a straight face, but it doesn't stop you from using it when he's away on business trips.

U // Unfair (how much they like to tease): Sylus loves to edge you; every single session he edges you on at least 1 orgasm, he can't help himself, the way you beg and plead to cum just sounds so delicious to him and he loves the control.

V // Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): Sylus can get vocal, he growls, he snarls, he purrs your name so seductively in your ear and he talks you through your pleasure, constantly asking you to voice for him that you're loving what he's doing to you, or telling you how good you feel wrapped around him.

W // Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): He knows you think he has a terrible singing voice, but nothing makes him happier than when he's lying inside you still and you're drifting off to sleep in his arms and he's singing you a soft little melody of a lullaby.

X // X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): ...come on now, we've seen this man. Sylus is as caked up in the front as he is in the back, there's no need for an xray this man has never hid his size a day in his adult life; he's a shower, not a grower, he's 7 inches soft, 8.5 inches hard and girthy - it takes Sylus using 3 fingers on you to stretch you out ready enough to take him.

Y // Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Sylus has a very high sex drive because he's very testosterone-fueled, but he's respectful enough to hold himself back to match your personal drive; if you give him the means and opportunity though, he will make sure you don't leave his bed except to eat or pee for an entire weekend.

Z // Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): Falling asleep inside of you or with you on his chest is the only time Sylus finds it easy to fall asleep quickly, but he's still an apex predator; he sleeps lightly and only after he's seen you fall asleep first and knows you're safe.

[mundanenonsense]

biker!simon x learnerdriver!reader

3869 words.

completely self indulged drabble inspired by what happened during my most recent driving lesson lol

enjoy xoxo

(edit: so there might be a part 2 coming…)

[next]

~

“We are in a 40 zone, you know you can go faster than 25? This will get you failed on the test.”

Terrie, your driving instructor sighed once again, looking at the speedometer as she rubbed her forehead with frustration. 

“Well, I’d rather be safe than sorry, there could be another car coming from behind the bend and-“ A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you squeezed the steering wheel tighter, shifting a little in the drivers seat before you gently tickled the gas with your foot, increasing the speed by a few miles. You’d been learning to drive for a month now, two double lessons a week, having passed your theory test with flying colours before you even decided to sit behind the wheel, this should all be a piece of piss. 

Well, it wasn’t. 

You cursed yourself for quitting your lessons when you were 17. Should have just done it then when you were a headstrong, confident teenager. Who would have known that 8 years later you would be a little scaredy cat, who was afraid of driving this big metal tin faster than 30 miles per hour?

Definitely not you. 

You were a great backseat driver after all, you just assumed it would come as easy for you if you were the one actually in the driving seat. 

Couldn’t be more wrong.

The responsibility overwhelmed you and fear of other drivers messing up was crushing any kind of confidence that you may have held.

You leaned forward as if that was going to make it easier for you to notice possible hazards as you took the turn.

“I know you’re scared of country roads, but you have nothing to worry about. Come on, gas, gas, gas.” Terrie tried to urge you on, but your foot stayed firmly in place as you silently stood (or sat) your ground (car seat). 

And then suddenly you flinched, a loud sound of an engine revving behind you made you jump a little in your seat, instinctively (and stupidly) making you attempt to turn to the side. Towards the hedge. The instructor immediately grabbed the hold of the wheel, straightening it up after your sudden jolt. 

“It’s fine, breathe, focus on the road, relax your shoulders, it’s just an idiot on the bike behind us.” She said, her voice soft as if she attempted to soothe you, used to the anxiety that ravaged you from the inside every single time you were in her car. She slowly let go off the wheel when you steadied your hands on it once again, taking in a deep shaky breath.

Your eyes snapped to the rear view mirror where you saw a large, black motorcycle ridden by an equally large man dressed in a black hoodie and pants, following you in little slaloms as if he was actively trying to show you how bored out of his mind he is. 

“What should I do?” You asked quickly, squeezing your hands on the wheel tighter as he revved the engine again, your knuckles turning white from the strain. 

“Well, if you’re not gonna speed up, steer to the left and let him overtake us, he should just go, there’s plenty of space.” Terrie said, looking over her shoulder as the biker started to near closer, sitting almost on the butt of your car. 

“Why is he doing this! It’s dangerous, what if I had to suddenly break!” You groaned in frustration as you let the wheel turn gently to the left, switching your gaze between the empty road ahead and the biker behind you. 

One thing Simon didn’t expect on his early morning ride to his mother’s house was traffic or any obstacles on the roads. Because nobody really expects that at 6am on a Saturday. The roads should be empty. And the majority of the drive from the base was smooth sailing. Perfect really. It was sunny, late spring in all its beauty with clear skies, chirping birds, bright warm sun and just calmness. He was able to push his Harley forward, not worrying about many drivers, leaning forward, feeling the strong engine beneath him and the wind rattling his clothes, music blasting through the headphones he wore under his helmet. 

It relaxed him. 

Soothed him.

Helped him get rid of the excess post deployment adrenaline that coursed in his veins. 

All he had to worry about in this moment was the machine beneath him and that was far easier than having to worry about the lives of soldiers who fought along his side. His friends. Brothers in arms who he both bled for and spilled blood for. No flying bullets, no blood, no screams, no thinking on his feet just to make sure he survived another minute. 

He had complete control right now. Over himself, over the bike and over the seemingly empty country road he was cruising.

It couldn’t be better.

That’s until he noticed a learner driver car ahead of him and with a little frustrated sigh he naturally slowed down, finally going within the speed limit. Not for long though. The miles on the speedometer were still dropping as his foot stayed firmly on the break when he realised the car in front of him was going much slower than he anticipated. 

Because for some reason, this idiot in the car thought it was okay to drive more than 10 miles under the speed limit. 

And yes, that idiot might have been a learner and Simon himself might have been an idiot for going a little (a lot) over the advised speed, but that didn’t matter now. 

Maybe they were gonna pull over? That must have been the reason why they were going so slow. Surely.

Nope. 

Apparently this wasn’t the case and he quickly realised it.

Simon revved the engine loudly with a sharp turn of his wrist, his eyes stuck on the little white car ahead of him. 

And then it swayed to the left right towards the hedge, before suddenly straightening up. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his nose, shaking his head slightly. How can a rev of an engine startle someone? At this point he didn’t even bat an eye to explosions happening 10 meters away from him or sudden sounds of firing guns. It was nothing. Pathetic.

Whoever was driving clearly didn’t plan on going any faster.

Simon thought it was a blessing that they’ve managed to move forward at all with how fucking slow the car was moving. 

No more fucking control for Simon.

All the control was in the hands of the the driver of the white learner car. You.

It’s not like he was in a rush. His mother was still probably asleep, he didn’t even announce to her that he was back. He rarely did. He preferred to just turn up. It avoided him any unnecessary questions that he much more preferred to answer in person than over text or phone call. He wasn’t even sure if he even remembered to turn his phone on when they returned to the base. Not like he had many people to contact apart from his team, his mother and Tommy and the former have seen him a few hours ago during the debrief anyway.

Simon didn’t need the unnecessary distractions. 

There was also nothing that compared to the smile on his mother’s face when she would see him standing unannounced in the door or when she would find him in her kitchen, casually sipping on his black tea after he silently sneaked into the house using his set of keys. Just like he planned to do today.

If only this god forsaken wannabe driver would move faster, he’d be able to relax sooner. He would be in one of the few safe places that he secretely cherished so much nursing his favourite tea, waiting for his mum to finally come downstairs and insist on cooking him a breakfast.

Normally he would just overtake, but the rural road that they were driving through was too wavy for him to do it safely. 

And as much as he was risking his life on the field, he wasn’t that much of a fucking twat to kill himself or anyone else in the close proximity. Like the learner driver and their instructor, who he thought must have been a shitty instructor letting them go this slowly. 

No, he knew when to take a step back.

But then the driver moved to the side, leaving him a wider opening. 

How lovely. Maybe he would get to his mum’s house about the time that he planned instead of next year.

He urged forward, flicking his visor up with a little curiosity, trying to catch the reflection of the person driving. He betted on an older person. Maybe a pruned grandad having to take some refresher lessons?

And as soon as he saw your wide, pretty, worried eyes, staring right fucking back at him in your rearview mirror, he could have sworn that the music playing in his ears paused, the world suddenly became brighter, his lungs got twice as full as he took a ragged breath and everything finally started to make sense. His assumptions went to fuck themselves. 

How could he ever be pissed off at someone with such pretty eyes? 

If you wanted to go slow, you had every single right to go slow. 

He would happily stay behind you, even if you moved at a snail pace, he would happily follow even if you decided to go even slower. 

Because that oh so beautifully and blissfully extended the time that he would be able to stare at your eyes. 

Because fuck, he was done in. Completely gone. Absolutely fucking fucked up.

Simon Riley would gladly write to the government or wherever he would have to write try to get every single speed limit around adjusted so that you didn’t have to go faster than you were going now. 

Your eyes flickered between the road ahead and his reflection in the rear view mirror, feeling his stare on you. Your cheeks reddened and panic settled. Why was he not overtaking? He was supposed to! That’s how the roads worked. If someone was going too slow for your liking, you’d overtake them. You were used to it, it happened before more often than you’d like to admit, but still.

“He’s not overtaking! What should I do?!” You squealed nervously. 

You knew you pissed off other drivers on the roads, which was one of the reasons why you always did both your weekly lessons on the early weekend mornings. It meant there was less of a chance of you feeling like a total failure since the streets were practically empty. And now having this biker practically sitting on your ass, catching his dark eyes every time you looked in the mirror, made you feel like you were gonna throw up. 

Was he judging you? Was he angry? Was he just staying there to torment you and make you feel like you were doing a bad job? Well, Mr Biker, tough shit, your brain was already working overtime guilt tripping you into thinking you were the biggest liability.

“We gave him the chance, just go back to the middle of the lane.” Terrie said calmly and turned around in her seat, looking over her shoulder at the biker.

And Simon wanted to murder that woman on the spot. It wasn’t the judgy, annoyed look on her face that angered him. It wasn’t the fact that she clearly shook her head at him as he watched her mouth something that he couldn’t quite distinguish. 

Her big fucking head covered the mirror view as she looked at him. Even if it was just for a brief few moments.

He couldn’t stare at you anymore. 

Well, he could. Eventually. Quite quickly actually.

But the few seconds that he couldn’t see those pretty eyes, which now glistened so beautifully with suppressed tears, seemed to drag out into eternity. 

Why were you so worried little driver? 

Did the instructor upset you? 

Did she say something nasty to you about your absolutely perfect driving? 

Don’t worry, you sweet little thing, you could quit driving with her, Simon would teach you better. He was a great teacher. Not that he ever taught anyone how to drive. But he taught plenty of people how to survive out on the field. How to handle a gun. How to disarm someone in all but 3 simple moves. Yeah. Simon would surely be able to teach you to drive. He would make sure you felt safe, since you so clearly didn’t. Whether that was in the car or in his arms as he cradled you so close to him, cupping your cheeks, stroking his thumbs lightly over the cheekbones as he gazed into those pretty, fucking eyes. He would bathe you in praises every time you did something right. Because fucking hell, maybe then those worried eyes would become a little less worried.

And if you wanted to quit driving altogether, that would be okay too.

Simon would happily become your personal chauffeur if it meant keeping your worries at bay. Although he would try to push for your independence, for the sake of it whilst he was out on deployment. But whenever he was back, you would never have to get into the drivers seat again if you didn’t want to. He’d drive your ass wherever your little, precious heart desired.

You’d make such a pretty passenger princess in his car, responsible for the radio, relaxing in the seat, his hand splayed on your thigh, stroking it tenderly as you looked at him with those pretty eyes that he could not hold himself back from gazing into at every single possible chance he got.

He’d slowly get you used to high speeds.

Well, higher than 30. 

Not ever higher than 70. 

Ever. 

Even if it was him driving.

He could never risk his precious cargo, whether that would be in a car or on the back of his bike as your arms would wrap around him securely. He would make you hold onto his hoodie or his leathers (probably his leathers, since he would have to set out a good example for you if he would make you wear yours too after he bought them). No more speeding for Simon. Not even to tease you. How could he ever risk you getting hurt?

You’d still cling on so tightly, no matter how fast he was going. He just knew it. 

His head shook out of the daydream as the flicker of your left indicator came to life and with each annoying twinkle, his heart shattered more and more. 

You were turning left. 

Well, not yet.

You were currently slowing down even more as you approached a closed view junction, even though it was a good 70 meters ahead.

You thoughtful little thing, so fucking considerate as you practically teased him with the dagger that you were about to pierce right through his chest. 

“Do you think he’s angry…?”

Terrie turned her head to stare at you with a deadpan expression as you asked the question, your eyes once again meeting Simon’s as you hesitantly approached the junction. 

“He probably enjoyed the nap.” 

That didn’t make you feel better. You were on a verge of a mental breakdown, stress manifesting itself in the tremor of your jaw, knuckles stiff and white from how hard you were squeezing the wheel. 

You hated every single moment of this. 

Felt like a liability. 

Maybe driving just wasn’t for you and you should get over the fact that until you were rich enough to uber everywhere, you would have to make do with the public transport. 

There were worse things than being squeezed on a bus with a tonne of grocery bags amongst strangers who hated this just as much as you did.

For example annoying every single other driver on the road. 

Your desperation to people please could not handle that.

“Can we not cut the lesson short today and just get me home?”

“You need to learn, I’m not letting you give up on yourself, come on, turn left at the junction and we will practice some maneuvers at a parking, okay?”

You nodded as you stopped at the junction, to assess if it was safe for you to move out onto the road, the black bike pulled up next to you, his right indicator on. 

Simon stared at you right through the window and fuck, if he thought your eyes were pretty, seeing your right profile was like bashing his already cracked heart with a hammer. 

For a moment he questioned taking a detour. All the tiredness and need for the comfort of his mother’s home suddenly disappeared and all that the man needed was to take a turn left and stay right behind you.

You hesitantly looked to the left, leaning a little over the wheel, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before you turned your gaze to the right to check if there were any cars approaching (which there weren’t, this was a countryside road at 6am, duh). And by chance your eyes met again. 

Well, not strictly by chance. There was actually no chance in that whatsoever. You knew he was staring. You could feel it. His gaze never left you from the moment he decided to stay behind you instead of overtaking. You didn’t want to look back at him, but when you turned your head, you knew you couldn’t stop yourself. He was right there, looking right at you through the little gap in his helmet, where the visor had been lifted. 

His dark eyes narrowed, making him look almost angry, turning your stomach. You swallowed heavily, afraid that you might just accidentally throw up.

You felt guilty. 

What if you didn’t give him enough space to overtake and that’s why he was stuck behind you? Was he in a rush? 

He looks so angry…

Simon watched with curiosity, squinting a little, trying to ignore the glare of the sun in the closed window as your pretty, full, pink lips mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ and he wasn’t sure if his heart could take it anymore. 

Why were you apologising little, sweet driver? 

He shook his head quickly, as you turned yours back to the road and he watched you attempt to set off. He wanted to reassure you. Tell you everything was okay. That he wasn’t angry. That you didn’t have to apologise for anything because even if you decided to fucking run him over at that painfully slow speed, making it a torture, he would probably thank you and ask you to do it again, if that was the only interaction you two would have. 

You tried to get away from him. From the stressful situation you’ve found yourself in. From the stupid wavy country road. 

Except that the car fucking stalled.

The frown on your face deepened as you tried to start it off again but it immediately stalled again, the car jerking forward a little.

You were so close to just getting out and walking your way back home. Eyes welling up with tears that stung and made everything slightly blurry. You didn’t care anymore. The words of your instructor seemed to melt into nothing as they filled the car with a calm tone, when she gently talked you through it. 

You tried to follow. You really did. Everything to get away and save yourself from even more embarrassment that made your cheeks burn like fire and your throat tighten, making it difficult to breathe. 

Clutch all the way down, gear into neutral, turn the key, gear into first and slowly release the clutch as you gas, gas, gas, gas! Come on, just use the gas, it wont hurt you! There we go, that’s it!

And just like that you were gone from him, driving away down the road, suddenly much faster than he anticipated you to, as he stayed at the junction, rubbing his eyes through the opening in his helmet. Simon was pressing his fingers hard, unsure if he was trying to erase you from his eyelids or permanently imprint you into them so that every time he closed them, he could see you.

“Fuck my life.” He murmured to himself and leaned his gloved hands back down on the handlebars as he set off, turning right onto the main road. 

Realistically, he knew he would never see you again. 

There was no chance of that.

He should have used that moment at the junction when you stalled, gotten off his bike and unscrewed one of the nuts from the bolts that held the frame of the harley together and dropped to his knee, begging you to marry him. 

From the short moment that he looked away from your face and towards your hands squeezing the wheel, he saw they were delicate, small, much smaller than his and empty. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Surely a nut would fit.

Surely.

And if it didn’t, he would drag you onto the back of his bike and take you to the nearest jeweller for you to choose an actual ring. 

He didn’t care about the price. 

If you were willing to marry him, he would spend whatever he needed to. 

And you surely would want to marry him, wouldn’t you? Would a promise of you never having to sit behind the steering wheel be good enough of a reason? 

What he definitely was sure of was that his mother would appreciate to find him in her kitchen sipping the usual tea, but this time with a pretty bird perched up on his lap. She’d been asking if he’s found anyone for years after all. 

Well, now he has found someone. 

He has found you. 

Except that you turned left before he got to do anything about it. 

And he was stupid enough not to follow. 

He didn’t even know your name, but he knew that you were the one who he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Future Mrs Riley. The woman who’s eyes he would gaze into every single night before you two fell asleep, and he would desperately try to drag out that moment, chatting your ears off, keeping you awake, keeping you entertained. 

Simon would do anything. Any. Fucking. Thing.

But he had to find you again first. And that may prove harder than anticipated since he knew nothing about you. He should have at least memorised the number plate to possibly use it to find you on the list of people the instructor insured onto her car. 

But if Simon Riley was good at anything, it was finishing what he started. He was conditioned into discipline. Self drive. Challenging himself. He enjoyed being pushed and working all the difficult shit out. And he wouldn’t give up until a bolt nut from his bike or a ring, almost as pretty as your eyes (because nothing could possibly compare to how stunning they were to Simon) was on your finger and you were right in his arms.

[caffeinatedcop]

"Yes it was. It's for science Tin can"

Swiggity swooty, Gavin is here for that booty. Get your butt squeezed tin can <3

@caffeinatedcop <3

"Was that really necessary Gavin?"

[thehaberdasheress]

Sewing supplies back in shop!

And I mean in shop, since I keep these supplies in my living room/studio and ship orders myself. I want to be able to use and test them myself before I put them out on sale on Etsy.

I just got a new storage unit for them, I'm so proud.

Here's what I've got:

The Sewing Kit:

The tin: It's compact, roughly the size of a playing card, with a hinged lid that fits on snugly.

Seam ripper: Compact enough to fit into the tin, sharp, and nimble. (Pro tip: Keep the clear cap around to fit onto the butt end of the tool when you use it, and make life easier on your hands!)

Needles: 5 assorted sewing needles, sharps with different thicknesses and eye sizes.

Pins: 20 sharp glass-headed pins

Needle threader: I went on a quest to find decent ones, since the little tin ones in your average sewing kits break easily and drive me wild. The plastic flower is easy to grasp, and it makes threading your needle (especially when working with crewel wool or embroidery floss) SO much easier.

Thread: 5 metres/5.5 yds of glazed cotton quilting thread. Choice of white or black. I am SO sick of crappy sewing-kit thread, which is usually flimsy AND a nightmare to sew with, so I've spun up spools of my favourite handsewing thread instead. It's smooth and sturdy, and less likely to snarl or knot as you're working.

Unique enamel pin with magnetic back: Once I discovered magnetic pincushions, I never turned back. You just have to get the pin close enough to its magnetic field and then forget about it. It's also detachable, if you want to take your magnetic experience on the road.

The sewing kit on Etsy

Embroidery Scissors: So popular that I only have about half of the original styles in stock anymore. They're made of stainless steel, and go from light thread snips to more serious cutting blades.

Needle Cases: Small and simple wooden cases that can hold most standard sewing needles. I get them as natural wood, then paint and stain them to match my aesthetic.

Thread wax: 100% beeswax thread conditioner. Running your sewing thread through the wax will make it much tamer and easier to deal with. It saves SO many headaches if you do a lot of sewing by hand. I mold these myself in my studio.

Leather thimble: The handsewer's best friend. Comes in small adult and large adult sizes. Leather thimbles allow sensitivity and freedom of movement I find hard to achieve with metal or plastic ones. I'm almost totally sold out of my old white leather thimbles, and the new shipment that came in are dark brown.

All this, and more! available at my Etsy shop

[cauldron-of-oddities]

If this is Jinx's official (travel) map, I love it.

Most important:

Zaun (and Piltover) - Chez Jinx - house or home of Jinx, surounded by the sun and clouds and, most importantly, hearts 💖 - She still thinks of it as home, so I have good hope she'll go back. (And back to Ekko and the firelights and connect to her sister again)

And the travel lines go to and from Zaun several times, so maybe a drop-in isn't that rare. A cycle of travel, drop in for a kiss (let me dream) from Ekko, and then cause some mayhem for Vi and Cait to deal with and then travel again.

As for the rest? Love and have to laugh at her opinions, and if she's been to these places, it says a lot about her experiences.

Noxus - des mechants - bad guys - just no - there's an image of a square headed vampire (at least he has fangs) and angry scribbles - this was clearly not a good time.

Freljord- mega trop - mega too much - probably froze her butt off (her sense of fashion is no good here), trolls and who knows what else (I'm certain someone with more lol knowledge can add) She might have had fun making a snowman or two.

Demacia - bling bling and snobs - no translation required, what it says on the tin. There's a diamond there too, why do I have the feeling she's wanted for theft? I am guessing she had a blast causing chaos and left when she deemed them all party poopers with their heads stuck up in their pompous asses. (and a google search for prout prout informs me they're farts)

Targon - trop loin??? - too far??? I can't guess here. Has it been deemed too far or has it gone to far?

Shumira - hmmm, ok. - thoughtful, there's a cactus and a spiky critter. An interesting experience? Think she might have found some lore on Janna?

Ixtal - jungle magique - magical jungle - stars and a potion bottle - feels like she enjoyed it for what it was, probably got her curious mind buzzing, if how she was with hextech is anything to go by.

Shadow Isles - Habitants Maudits - Cursed inhabitants - ghosts and gravestones and all that creepy stuff - doesn't feel like she liked it there more like - yuck creepy, interesting but not for me. (and maybe looking 'death' and a curse like that in the eye is a deeply unsettling thing)

Ionia - trop calme - too calm - there's a sleeping head there, sheep, and a game of x&o. My guess is that she was bored, good for a nap, but too much looking for balance. Reading the info about Ionia, though, there should be quite the under current of tension - or is this prehaps hinting that Noxus has not invaded yet?

Bilgewater - Pirates - with a big giant heart. Yeah, I think she had a blast here. It's also where the drawn ship is headed. Free to indulge in more of her chaotic behaviours, picking uo bounties, pestering/ running from bounty hunters, hanging out at the bar. Jup, good time. I have been informed that she'd probably get along with several of the inhabitants and possibly make friends.

[paceprompting]

cinnamon buns

written for ‘christmas’ | wc: 736 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: post season four, pre-relationship, fluff, steve has a crush on eddie, and vice versa, christmas together

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Wayne always managed to get Christmas off. Every year.

Eddie didn’t know what exactly he promised in return to manage it, but ever since little eight-year-old Eddie Munson shuffled into the trailer to live with his uncle, every Christmas had been theirs.

Wayne always woke up first, setting out the presents collected throughout the year and hidden under his bed—and Eddie hadn’t peeked since that first year—nursing his first cup of coffee while in his pajamas until Eddie emerged.

When he was still little, he’d bum-rush the tree and tear open the presents, but soon the little traditions emerged.

Playing Rudolph and Year Without a Santa Claus on VCR tapes that survived years of rewatches, but no interdimensional portals.

Cinnamon buns from tins for breakfast, always burnt around the edges and covered in icing—but they split the best one from the middle.

And the last present was always, always Wayne’s. It took several years for Eddie’s wrapping skills to actually look like the box he was wrapping, but Wayne never said a word.

It was one of those Christmases that Eddie got his first set of dice.

Government hush money bought a decent house for them, with real insulation and top-of-the-line boiler. Just in time for Christmas. Wayne actually had a real hiding place for the presents this time, and no matter how hard Eddie had looked, he’d have to wait until next year to find it.

They could get real lights, too. Not just the couple of strings that wouldn’t overload the trailer’s generator.

They also had to, since those lights were carted off to some Area 51 with the rest of the things the government wanted to pretend had never happened until maybe they could use it to their own benefit.

One other thing had changed this Christmas, too.

There were three of them this year.

Eddie heard the crunch of tires on asphalt from the kitchen. He was supposed to be setting up the ham to go in the oven—which he’d never done in his life, yet he’d volunteered—and he’d only gotten as far as preheating the oven.

So, he headed straight for the front door, sans any sort of jacket or shoes.

Eddie had hated the cold most of his life.

When you lived in a metal box with shitty heating on a good day, the cold months meant shivering through showers, mainlining coffee just to be warm for a couple minutes and layering blankets because sweating was better than losing a toe.

But there was something about Steve Harrington in the cold.

Or, more specifically, in the snow.

He eased out of the driver’s side of the Beemer, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders filled out the blue denim of his jacket, which matched his jeans—which stretched over his pert butt.

Not that Eddie was looking. For too long.

Maybe Eddie liked the cold a little bit more now.

But the whole reason Steve had bent over in the first place was to bring out a few things from his backseat. He held them behind his back as he straightened, and Eddie pouted as he trudged through the snow onto the porch.

His cheeks were pink when joined Eddie by the front door, ducking his head as he offered a hello.

“Hey, Eds,” he said.

Eddie leaned over to try and peer at what Steve had behind his back, eyes widening when Steve brought out a Tupperware that looked like it had several stacks of cookies, warm enough to steam up the inside.

“For me?” he asked, raising his brows.

Steve let him take the cookies with no comment.

“No, I thought it’d be rude not to bring something.” He shrugged, and it took Eddie a moment to realize that his other arm was still bent behind him. Eddie stared pointedly, and Steve smiled before revealing a more Christmas-y gift—in red and green plaid wrapping paper and white ribbon. “This is, though.”

Eddie immediately swapped cookies for the present, holding it close with a wide grin.

Steve cocked his head, sliding his hands (probably cold) into his pockets. “You’re not going to open it?”

He propped his present on his hip and reached forward to grab onto Steve’s wrist. With probably wild eyes, Eddie met Steve’s gaze, waited until Steve leaned forward just a bit and said, with every bit of seriousness, “We haven’t had the cinnamon buns, yet.”

[zhelin-thames]

PHANTOM OF THE BATCAVE: A GOTHAM MUSICAL ~A tale of ghosts, bats, and questionable life choices~

There can only be one brother extras 5 - 25 + bonus parts

ACT 1: "WHO'S THE (DEAD) GUY IN THE MANTLE?"

Opening Number: "Shadow in the Manor"

*(Gotham Manor. Night. Damian returns early from a mission, sensing an intruder. The Batfamily is out—except for Alfred, who hums as he polishes a teacup. Danny Fenton, half-asleep, leans against the kitchen counter. The lights flicker—Damian attacks!—Danny catches him mid-air. The orchestra strikes!)

DAMIAN: (snarling, suspended in Danny’s grip) "Who dares invade the Bat’s domain? What fool walks where death is plain? I’ll strike you down— AGAIN! AND AGAIN!—

DANNY: (yawns, spins him gently like a top) "Kid, please. I’ve fought my own reflection. You’re adorable— Now sit down, have some tea."

(Alfred enters, unbothered. Damian is outraged. The chandelier sways ominously.)

ALFRED: (smoothly) "Ah, Master Damian. How kind of you to greet our guest. Now, if you’ll excuse me— The shadows require their breakfast."

(Lights fade. The curtains pull back to reveal—)

Group Number: "TT (The Tiny Tyrant’s Lament)"

(The Batfamily returns. Dick is thrilled. Jason is suspicious. Tim is recording everything. Damian sulks on a chandelier.)

DICK: (dramatic flourish) "A brother! A friend! A mystery to unravel! He caught Damian mid-stab— Is he magic? Trained? TROUBLE?!"

JASON: (loading a gun, eyeing Danny) "He’s too calm. He’s too chill. I don’t trust him— I WON’T— (…Why’s he floating now?) OH COME ON."

DAMIAN: (from the rafters) "TT! TT! TT! I hate you all! ESPECIALLY HIM— (…But his shoulders are good for climbing.)

(Danny, now upside-down, grins. The Batcomputer glitches.)

ACT 2: "GHOSTS, BATS, AND OTHER TERRIFYING THINGS"

Villain Interlude: "Why So Ecto?"

(The Rogues gather in a secret hideout. Joker is fuming. Riddler is traumatized.)

JOKER: (wild-eyed, clutching a deflated whoopee cushion) "I planted bombs! I stole diamonds! Then a tiny ghost girl turned my acid into LEMONADE! SHE SIPPED IT AND SMILED— WHAT AM I MISSING?!"

HARLEY: (twirling, unfazed) "Bats are fun! Ghosts are funner! Wanna join their chaos crew? I’M ALREADY THEIR AUNTIE— THEY TOLD ME SO!"

*(Pause. The Rogues stare. Then—BANG!—Ellie crashes through the ceiling.)

ELLIE: (grinning, covered in glitter) "DID SOMEONE SAY CHAOS?"*

(The Rogues scream. The scene cuts to—)

Emotional Ballad: "Home (Is Where the Haunt Is)"

(Danny and Damian on a rooftop. Damian pretends he isn’t attached. Danny knows.)

DANNY: (softly, watching Gotham’s skyline) "I was living and dead, Neither here nor there— Then you dropped from the ceiling, Like a tiny, stabby prayer."

DAMIAN: (grumbling, but leaning closer) "TT. Obviously. You’re adequate. (…Don’t leave.)"

(A shadow passes over the moon. The Ghost Zone hums.)

ACT 3: "THERE CAN ONLY ONE (FINAL BATTLE)"

Showdown: "Danny vs. Santa (Holiday Havoc)"

(Flashback. The North Pole. Snow flies. Danny duels Santa on a frozen lake.)

SANTA: (booming, dodging ecto-blasts) "YOU’RE RUINING CHRISTMAS! YOUR LIST SAYS ‘TERROR’!

DANNY: (grinning, mid-backflip) "YOU STOLE MY SNICKERDOODLES— PREPARE FOR WRATH!"

(Ellie and Damian sled in on a ghost polar bear, singing backup.)

ELLE & DAMIAN: "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! KICK HIS JOLLY BUTT! THERE CAN ONLY ONE— (…But two is more fun!)"

(Santa surrenders, tossing Danny a magic cookie tin. The Batfamily applauds from a snowdrift.)

Finale: "We’re All a Little Dead Inside"

(The entire cast assembles on stage. Bats, ghosts, even the Rogues.)

FULL CAST: (harmonizing, confetti cannon) "Gotham’s dark! The nights are long! But with a ghost, it’s kind of fun! So welcome home, you weird dead son— THE CHAOS HAS ONLY BEGUN!"

*(Danny bows. Damian stabs a balloon. Ellie hugs the Joker. Alfred serves tea to a very tired Batman.)

CURTAIN.

STANDING OVATION.

POST-CREDITS SCENE: Constantine, smoking in the alley behind the theater: "I hate musicals." (A shadow nods in agreement.)

A/N: This is Broadway-ready. Casting suggestions:

Danny: A chaotic tenor with parkour skills.

Damian: A 12-year-old with resting murder face.

Ellie: A feral soprano who actually stabs the crew.

[jeysbvck]

even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

-

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

-

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

-

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this. 

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

*

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

-

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What would they impulse buy at the grocery store? 

Marko 

those little capsules that you place in water, and they turn into sponge animals 

Don’t ask me why, but I could totally see him with a small hoard of them 

He would have them all organized by animal, all in their separate little tins and jars he’s collected from the beach

I definitely think he’s the type of person that would wait for the capsule to dissolve in the water fully before looking to see what he got! 

Paul HATES waiting, and wants to break the capsules when Marko’s not looking to see what he got 

At this point Marko has a LOT 

BUT he is still looking for that elusive blue giraffe 

Paul joked that he is going to take them all and make one giant, mega, sponge to wipe his butt with 

Marko says he will cut all of Paul’s fingers off while he sleeps and hide them around the cave for him to find if he does this 

Paul doesn’t suggest that idea ever again 

Paul 

cans of frosting 

This BOY HAS AN ADDICTION 

I definitely have this headcanon that Paul ran with a bad crowd when he was human and was deep into some hardcore drugs 

When he was turned, he lost the desire for that hard stuff (accept for his lettuce hehe) 

And that addiction somehow translated into his new Vampire DNA as an almost uncontrollable desire for all things sugar 

He definitely goes through different craving waves for sugary items 

In the past it's been sugar packets

baby bottle pops (but only the powder because he's a little maniac)

Honey sticks 

And even sugar cubes 

But now he is on a frosting kick 

So when David and the boys decide they are having a night in due to bad weather or just pure laziness 

Paul’s favorite thing to do is to grab a tub of frosting and a spoon, and go to town while watching cartoons on the semi-broken tv they have in the cave 

Dwayne 

Coffee

He LOVES a fresh cup of coffee 

And he is realllllllll fancy about it too

I’m talking Like French press fancy 

He absolutely does not keep his supplies in one of the living spaces in the cave though. He doesn’t like to share 

Which is completely understandable, given the fact that he is constantly around his brothers 24/7. 

And typically, what his, is theirs; and what’s theirs is his

He is allowed to have AT LEAST ONE THING to himself 

This man will LITERALLY lose his mind and take ALL OF THE BOYS out with him if they even THINK of messing with his coffee stash 

All this man needs is one cup of his nice French Press coffee at LEAST ONCE a week and he can confidently and calmly deal with the terror twins and dictator David 

David 

Black licorice 

What can I say? he’s an old man at heart (literally) 

I think he would have a little jar he keeps it in 

And he keeps an even littler jar of his licorice in his inside jacket pocket 

Whenever Marko or Paul sees him take out his jar YOU BET, they have a string of nicknames they berate him with for the rest of the night

Pa is there favorite (think little house on the prairie) 

But they also enjoy calling him 

Granddaddy or G-Daddy 

Gramp Vamp

Old Bones

And Dwayne’s personal favorite 

pop-pop