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Kinktober 2023: October 2nd

Day 2: Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Virginity, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Tonight is probably the most nerve wracking, terror inducing night of your life. The night you are going to give your virginity to the one and only Marcus Moreno. 

It’s not like you meant to stay a virgin. It just kind of happened. A combination of high standards and concentrating on your work has led you to be a middle-aged woman with no sexual experience. About to try to take this next step with a man that you not only respect but you are really, really attracted to. 

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you take a deep breath. Smoothing down the lines of your lingerie that you had decided was the most appropriate to show that you are ready to do this. 

He’s been amazing. The conversation had been hard, breaking down into tears while you confess the dark secret that you’ve been keeping from the man you’ve been dating for three months. He had not judged you, just wrapped his arms around you and assured you that it didn’t matter to him. He would wait until you are ready to do anything. 

That, more than anything, told you that this was the man that you wanted to give your virginity to. Or, maybe a better way to put it would be that this man is the one you wanted to experience sex with for the first time. 

Now, you feel like you are ready. Every night you spend in his company convinces you that you are eager to take this step. Every lingering kiss, the tension builds, but he still holds back. Ending the make out sessions with one final kiss and then a breathless sigh as he shoves his hand through his hair, shooting you a sheepish grin before he discreetly adjusts the proof of his own desire. 

Taking one more breath, you turn and slip out of the bathroom. Turning off the light and finding Marcus waiting on the bed for you. His own nerves are not on display as he turns towards you. Eyes widening behind his glasses as he stands up. “Wow.” 

The breathed out awe in that one word soothes you, making you smile and giggle slightly as you pop your hip out to pose for him. “You like this?” You ask, watching as he takes off his glasses and closes them to put on the dresser before he steps closer to you. 

“Yeah.” He nods and licks his lips and slowly reaches for you so you have a chance to back away if you want. You don’t want to back away, you want to press closer. 

“Marcus…” You bite your lip and your heart is pounding in your chest. Nerves fluttering and churning in your stomach. “I- I want this.” You had talked about this at dinner, but you feel the need to make sure that he knows that you really do want this. 

“Are you sure?” In front of you is a superhero. A man who has saved the world countless times, has powers that you cannot even match. Yet, right now, all his attention is on you. His warm eyes darkened with desire, and you feel the way that his grip tightens on you. Still, despite his own needs, he’s making sure that you have a choice. 

“I’m sure.” You nod, fingers curling into the shirt on his arms. “I’m really sure.” 

Once he’s given permission, Marcus instantly becomes the lover that you’ve always dreamed of when you secretly read those romance novels. His touch is worshipful as he starts to slowly caress you, his mouth kissing yours over and over again before he starts to trail kisses down your neck. 

Never moving too fast to overwhelm you, he keeps you yearning for more, every perfectly placed touch meant to keep you on edge for him. Your breathing heavy and your thoughts completely turned to mush by every calloused pass of his hands on your skin. 

Marcus hums as he lays you down on the bed, one knee between yours. Hands gentle as he starts to peel you out of the lingerie. Groaning and dropping feather light kisses on the skin that he exposes. Making you feel like a princess, or a goddess as he makes every doubt about yourself fade into the warmth of his presence. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He groans, his cock twitching in his pants as he looks down at you. 

Squirming under the weight of his gaze, you don’t feel like a virgin, you feel like a vixen. A seductress that could tempt any mere man and make them fall at your feet. “You’re gorgeous, Marcus.” You pant quietly. “I need more.” 

Being the glorious man that he is, Marcus knows exactly what you need. His fingers sliding  through your folds and starting to rub your clit in slow, tight circles. Your eyes roll back and your moan is embarrassingly loud. Not that he seems to mind, his groan matching yours when his lips descend on yours again. 

You had already told him that you didn’t want him to go down on you. Too embarrassed or scared of what he might think when he’s face to face with your pussy. It’s not like you’ve ever had that done to you before, and you know that you are nervous enough about letting this man’s large cock inside you. You know it’s large, you’ve felt it pressed against you when your make out sessions got a little steamy. 

“I’m going to make you cum just like this, baby.” Marcus’s voice is like honey whiskey. Rough and smooth as he coos at you. “Just relax and let me take care of you.” 

It’s hard to give over control, but you know you are in good hands. Those hands, the same ones on you right now, have literally held the fate of the world in them. You think you can trust that he will do right by you. Your eyes are closed, lips curled up in a slight smile. Missing the way that his own eyes narrow slightly in concentration. Wanting to make tonight perfect for you. 

“Marc.” Your whine is breathless, body trembling under his touch as you start to creep closer to the edge. “Oh, oh god.” It’s the first of many times that you will cry out in pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby.” He murmurs, his lips pressing against your pulse to feel it pound under them. “You need to cum, so I can make sure you enjoy when I’m inside you.”

Those words throw you over the edge. The pleasure bursting in a sharp kaleidoscope of heat, flooding your body in waves. “Marc!” 

Marcus groans, cock twitching and throbbing in his pants. He hadn’t pushed his fingers inside you, but you would be so tight and wet right now. Slowing down the circles of his fingers as your hips chase the pleasure he is bringing you. 

Coming down from the utter bliss is soft, slow. Slow enough that you don’t even realize that you lose contact with Marcus for a moment. The shuffling of clothes not even registering until he’s back in your arms. His hot skin pressed against yours and immediately firing all new sorts of sensations and shivers. 

His kisses are tender, reassuring you as he starts to settle between your thighs, the long length of him pressing against your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. Swallowing them down for you and rocking his hips forward, making you want to wrap your legs around him. 

The moment he slips inside you, time ceases to exist. Everything stops, even your heart as he slowly pushes in. Filling you, stretching you beyond anything that you imagined in your wildest dreams. Letting you cling to him as he kisses you and pets your hair, murmuring praises. 

He moves slowly, letting you feel every inch, every ridge and vein as he pulls and pushes inside your slick walls. Every roll of his hips pulls another sensation, another moan out of you. Working your body back up slowly, but just as steadily as before. 

The weight of him is magnificent. The crease of his brow as he hovers over you. The flex of his arms as he keeps his full weight off of you. Totally focused on you and how this is making you feel. Every moan listened to, responded to. When you gasp, he’s making sure that it’s in pleasure and not discomfort. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, sure that you wouldn’t be able to cum from sex alone, but he had taken his time to make sure you weren’t falling behind. Grinding his hips just perfectly to hit the right angle inside you. His cock pressing against something amazing.

His own pleasure follows right behind yours. Obviously holding himself back to make sure you had cum before he gives into his own needs. Groaning out your name is the sexiest thing that you’ve ever heard in your life and even though you are panting, breathless, you can’t help but stroke his chest and his cheeks as he rides out his pleasure. 

“How was it?” Marcus asks after he’s cleaned you up and you are cuddled into his chest. His fingers stroking your arm as the softness of the moment isn’t lost on you. You feel amazing, tired, but energetic all at the same time. 

“It was amazing.” Turning your kiss his chin and smile when he looks down at you. “Thank you for making my first time special.” You whisper quietly. 

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” Marcus assures you, licking his lip and leaning in for another kiss. “My absolute pleasure.”  

Marcus Moreno took your virginity, and made it a perfect night for you. Ever the superhero. 

[mando-abs]

Kinktober 2023: October 1st

Day 1: Sex Toys/Strap-on, Mutual Masturbation, Muscle

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Masturbation, filthy language, cum, cum eating

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Sex at the end of the world is a precarious thing. Rubbers aren’t worth even trying, they are nearly twenty years old and there is no way he would trust one not to break. The factories down in Atlanta aren’t making birth control, they make hydrocodone. Even though he’s fifty-six years old, his swimmers still work. He could still knock you up, and that’s the last fucking thing he wants to do. 

“Joel.” You whimper and bite your lip as your need for some friction is making you roll your hips down, trying to grind against the threadbare panties you are wearing, soaked through. “Please, fuck, I need you.” You beg.

He wants to. Fuck, he wants to rip of those panties and bury his cock deep in the no doubt perfect pussy you possess. To thrust deep and keep rocking until nothing but the pleasure of your moans and the aching anticipation of his own release all that matters. But he can’t. He won’t. He won’t plant a baby in your belly to fail you, to disappoint you. 

Joel closes his eyes, his own hand drifting down to palm his hard cock through his jeans, grunting at the pressure and he knows he is close to giving in. It’s been nearly two months since the thing between you has been building to the point where he would have taken you to bed. If this had been before the Outbreak, he would have fucked you by the second week. Now? He can’t risk it. Not when the two of you are in the middle of nowhere and having a kid out here is a death sentence. 

“Baby, we can’t.” He grumbles, seriously giving thought to trying to pull out, but he knows he would be too slow to do it. Unwilling to leave the hot velvet clutch once he’s buried deep. Fuck, he needs to find one of those doctors who are making the tea blends. 

“Joel.” “I said no.” He’s sharper than he means to be. HIs words are harsh and his frown even harsher as he resists the urge to bury himself inside you until he forgets to breathe. He can’t do that. He can’t risk what could happen. 

Your frown makes him feel guilty, the way your body stops moving, feeling chastised for wanting him. The rejection starts to bloom in your eyes, making him feel even worse than before. 

“Touch yourself.” He orders, his jaw tight and his own thumb pushes at the button of the old Levi’s he’s wearing. “Show me what you do when you think I’m asleep.” 

Embarrassment blooms on your face, eyes dropping down to the ground and he grunts when the zipper gives him relief as it’s dragged down. “Joel-”

“I bet you have the prettiest little clit.” He shifts, grunting as he wiggles on the ground, thankful for the ragged bedroll underneath the two of you. Your own pack had to be left behind so now you are sharing. Another tempting lure. 

His cock springs free when he takes his briefs down too. Making you moan as you get a glimpse of him for the first time. Curling up towards his belly and rock hard, Joel spits in his hand and wraps it around his length. “I can’t fuck you right now, but I can watch you make yourself cum.” He groans, twitching and already starting to slowly stroke himself as he watches you. Waiting for you to move. “You can watch me cum.” 

The way you bite your lip makes him want to take your lip between his own pearly white teeth and bite. Toying with the plump flesh and seeing what kind of sound he could pull out of you. But he won’t, because if he kisses you, he won’t just stop at that. Letting out a sigh when you nod and start to peel your panties down, exposing the glorious view of your cunt. 

Wet, you’re so fucking wet that he can see the creamy slick, making him grunt and twitch again. Squeezing himself harder as he throbs for you. Your hair isn’t overly grown, telling him that when you get the chance, you trim it up. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt of yours. All nice and wet for me.” Joel groans. “Bet you are tighter than a glove.” 

Your whimper is like music to his ears and he watches as you start to slide your fingers through your folds to wet them. Brushing against your clit as your eyes close and then wrench back open so you can watch him as he fucks his hand. “Joel…” 

“That’s it, pretty girl.” He rasps out. “Tell me how you like to cum. Show me what you like to do, pretendin’ it’s me.” He can’t touch you, but he can make this good for you. You’ve already told him once how much you love his gravelly voice. “Fuck.” 

You’re even wetter than he imagined once your folds are peeled back and exposing the little nub that he would love to suck on. That fluttering little hole he desperately wants to plunge into and stretch around his thick cock. Feeling you squeezing him as you whimper and moan his name, writhing on his lap like you can’t get enough of him. “Look at you, pretty girl. All nice and wet for my cock. Slide your fingers into your tight little hole for me.” 

The fact that you so willingly obey him makes this even sexier. His hand pumping his cock, the slick sounds of it mixing with the sucking sounds your cunt is making as you plunge your fingers in and out of your needy little hole. Matching his rhythm as your breath starts to become more and more ragged. 

“Fuck.” Joel hisses, letting go of his cock and spitting into his hand again to give himself more lube. “Thought about you a lot. How pretty you would sound. How good you will feel.” He doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t want you, he does. Christ, does he. “Fucked my fist and came on the ground when I was keepin’ watch so many nights.” 

Your eyes are glazed over with lust and you moan so softly as your other hand massages your tits. Legs starting to tense and shift as you find the perfect angle for your fingers. 

“That’s it, girl.” Joel grunts. “Make those toes curl. Wanna see those pretty tits bounce as your body shakes for me.” 

Your gasp is just fuel for his own desires, absorbing it and grunting in response as his hand starts to grip his cock a little tighter. The movement of his hand aided by his rocking of his hip. He doesn’t know where to look. Your tits, your eyes, that pretty cunt. All of it a feast and Joel is gorging himself as he imagines fucking you. 

“Baby.” Your body is tense and he knows you are on the edge of cumming. 

“That’s it, pretty girl.” He croons, smirking at you with lust darkened eyes. “Go ahead and cum. It’s okay.” 

When you follow his order, when your soft cry rings out into the night, Joel hisses under his breath, taken by the sight of your face scrunched up in pleasure. Feeling his own body tense, the ache in his balls becoming sharper as they pull up against his body. 

The short, hard jerks on his cock stop, rolling his hips up as the first spurt of cum shoots out. Thick white ropes of cum spilling out over his hand and onto the ground between you as he groans out your name. Eyes fixed on yours as he slowly strokes himself through his orgasm as you come down from yours. 

Joel pants, letting go of his cock as he watches you pull your fingers out of your cunt, covered in your juices and he reaches out to take your hand. “Not gonna let that go to waste, pretty girl.” He grunts, pulling your hand towards his mouth so he can lick off every drop of your sweet nectar. Groaning as he cleans your fingers and watches you. 

“Joel.” Your body aches with the need to touch him, reaching down to touch his cock but he shakes his head, denying you. 

When he lets go, he rolls over for a second to grab a rag to clean up his cum. Grimacing slightly at the mess and then tossing it into the fire. “We should get some sleep.” He tells you before you can even speak. “Need to get the fuck to Jackson.” 

“Oh…” You sigh softly, knowing that this will probably be the last night this ever happens. You can see those walls going back up as he slides his jeans and underwear back up. 

“I’ve got to find some kind of fucking birthcontrol.” Joel groans. “I don’t mind watching you masturbate, but I’m gonna fuck you, pretty girl.” 

“Oh.”

Suddenly, getting to Jackson becomes your top priority. 

[mando-abs]

hey skyeeee 💕💖 you know me, i'm going to ask about Frankie in NYC and i'm begging for any tiny crumb you can offer 🥺

okay, I literally forgot I wrote a small something, hold up. Think of this as a deleted scene.

no warnings, no pairings, just fluff.

A moment with NYC Neighbor Frankie Morales and his sweet daughter Mariela.

Mariela loves riding the subway. It’s her favorite activity with her dad.

Fridays are half days at her daycare, so Frankie heads to the neighborhood pickup a little early so he can be the first one she spots on the sidewalk when the kids spill out of their classroom with their teachers.

She babbles about the art project they did that day, and stops to pet every dog. But it's when Frankie piles her into the crosstown 7 when she goes quiet.

She watches everything with her big brown eyes. Soaking in the busy world of New York City hustle and bustle. She stands between his knees when it’s busy. Held in the embrace of her father’s hands knitted over her belly and she observes.

Light and color. The rattle of the train as it bends the corner. Streaking through the tunnel. The sudden explosion of white as the platform comes into view, passengers standing in stillness zip past her. Colorful coats. Faces covered. Hats and gloves of every variety. Ladies with bags. Men with headphones. All muted white lights of the underground. Their vibrance somehow dulled, washed with pallid broad strokes. Their individuality only in the markings of their outwear. 

They have to switch to the A/C uptown line. At her level, it’s all legs and shoes. Her short ones barely keep up with Frankie’s long strides, and he has to bend, pick her up. Heft her around on his hip, muttering getting too heavy para tu papi, mijita. Her Blues-Clues backpack bouncing as he speedwalks to the next platform.

There’s space for her to sit next to him on the bench and she stays on her knees the whole time, gazing out the window at the world moving underground. Her mom packed her snacks, and when Frankie tries to get her to have a few Chex Mix, she’s not interested, preferring to watch, transfixed, the blur out the train car window.

It’s bright when they re-emerge. Mariela sees only blue sky, the buildings like toothpicks or lollipop sticks poking into the marshmallow clouds.

[mando-abs]

Diane, it’s 4:10 in the afternoon at the scene of the crime. Here’s something we haven’t seen before: a mound of dirt, approximately a foot and a half in diameter. On the top is a gold necklace with a gold heart—correction, half a gold heart. At the base of the mound of dirt is a torn piece of news print written with the words, which appear to be in blood: “fire walk with me.”   

TWIN PEAKS dir. David Lynch 1.01 – “Northwest Passage” (April 8th, 1990)

[mando-abs]

Pedro as Max Phillips in Bloodsucking Bastards (2015)

[mando-abs]

How come a small lil self portrait VERY quickly spiraled into making an OC and some of the best fanart I've ever made???

I also have been awake all night so I know for sure I will never meet this level of skill ever again.....

For those curious, art beneath the cut 🫣

Self Portrait (she looks way better than me)->

OC Info:

Like nothing 🤦‍♀️

Mutantation-> touches someone can see their past

Her mutation often overwhelms her so she wears gloves alot or just keeps her arms crossed with hr hands tucked close

She bonds with Rogue over not wanting to touch people

Went to school for psychology and graduated with a Masters in clinical psych

Was only 3 months into her first post-graduation job when her powers first manifested (she shook hands with a client at the hospital she worked for and seen all the mutants he'd murdered, aka serial killer)

it fucked her in the head before she used all her saving to fly to see Dr. Xavier who took care of the man and then offered her a job working with those who lived at the mansion and attended the school under his care

She tried to decline before he offered to pay for her doctorate

Kurt/Nightcrawler was one of her first friends (aka typical friends to lovers trope)

She isn't technically a part of the X-Men team, I made her a suit bc I could and I liked the angsty pose, I'm sure I'll come up with a backstory for it

ANDDDDD she's literally pretty much me guys 🤷‍♀️

I mean this started as a self portrait bc I was bored and SPIRALED

But uhhhh yeah this is gonna be my hyperfixation for a minute so if you wanna bring me character questions for her in an attempt to flesh her out I'd love that :))

[mando-abs]

Behold, more Clan of Three in the Peanuts universe~!! 🥜

(Closeups Below!)

I felt like Snoopy!Din would look like a mix between a poodle and a terrier, a skilled vermin-hunting dog who was still floofy. I think a white beagle fits Luke perfectly though, so I kept that iconic Snoopy look for him 🐶

And Grogu is Woodstock because of course he is 💕

[mando-abs]

wii sports dog appreciation post

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In hindsight, taking the class to the embalming room was probably NOT the best idea my teacher ever had....

[mando-abs]

What ARE the Pedro Scouts of Tumblr? Great question. Wait and see. No, I kid. Pedro Scouts is meant to be a place where you can engage in the light-hearted side of fandom whether you are a writer, a reader, an artist, a creator, or just here for a silly good time.

Who can join? Everyone is welcome! When sign-ups begin, there will be a little pledge, but we operate on the honor system around here: if you're a Scout in your heart, that's good enough for me.

How does this all work? Each week there will be badges posted that you can earn by engaging in (or having already done!) certain fandom-related things. The badges will range from creating for certain characters to writing or reblogging a trope to more general Tumblr things like sending an ask or playing a tag game. There will also be special events and activities as we groove along. As you get more badges (again, honor system! I trust you all!), you can move up the ranks of the Scouts. I'll keep a little list of where everyone is ranking, but this is just so you can see who else is up for tomfoolery.

So, the Scouts are really about...? About finding your people. You know, the ones who are down for silly asks and fun games, for random DMs and unhinged tags. It's about community via shenanigans.

When is this all starting? May 1st!

[mando-abs]

wii sports dog appreciation post

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[mando-abs]

omg okay so I’ve been trying to think of something appropriately AMAZING to ask you for your celebration so I raise you: 💬 Put Joel and Pin situation… DOUBLE DENIM JOEL (like him for actors and actors) she finds him a jacket? and she tailors it for him…. PLEASEEEE

I love you 🩷 so happy to be your friend

Double Denim

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 825 words | warnings: none other than that a confident Joel is a sexy Joel, double denim menace | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

Joel stares at his closet, stumped.

He says closet, but it’s more of a glorified wire rack mounted onto the wall next to his bed. And while his collection of clothes has grown from what he crossed the country with, it’s not much more than a bunch of shirts, jeans and underwear. It’s enough that he always has something to reach for when he rolls out of bed - usually unwashed and crumpled - but hey, who’s judging?

But now, for the first time in longer than he can remember, Joel doesn’t know what to wear.

He could go for the jeans he was wearing yesterday, his nicest pair, but he got paint on it right on the crotch thanks to a clumsy manoeuvre, of all places. And he could wear that (marginally) smarter red plaid shirt that he knows you like, except there’s a stain on the front that he never managed to get rid of completely.

It’s just not good enough.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief. This is absurd. He’s a fifty-three year old man fretting about what to wear in the middle of the fucking apocalypse. 

What’s probably even more absurd is the fact that it’s movie night in Jackson. He’s taking you to see Casablanca, and then to dinner afterwards.

And he wants to look nice for the occasion. 

For you.

There’s only one thing to do.

You look up from the shirt you’re ironing when the doorbell rings over him at the Outfitter, and you smile. ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’

He gives you a peck on the lips. ‘Hello, sweetheart. I uh - I wanted to buy some clothes.’

‘Oh, did something break?’ you ask, setting down the iron and giving him a once over.

‘No, I just - wanted somethin’ new.’

Joel smiles at the quizzical look on your face, always so open and expressive despite your shyness. He knows his answer comes as a surprise to you, as it did to him.

He watches as your mouth parts with a grin, excitement in your eyes. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. Joel Miller partaking in some clothes shopping?’

He winks. ‘Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?’

‘Alright, so, what were you thinking?’

‘Some nice jeans, and a nice jacket - maybe,’ he adds with a touch of uncertainty.

You don’t look like you expected that answer, and you tease him in reply, ‘Nice jeans and a nice jacket? Whatever for?’

Instead of answering straight away, he reaches for your hand and pulls you close. The sweet gasp that escapes you makes his heart swell with possessiveness, and he dips to brush his words against your lips. 

‘For you, sweetheart.’

You duck your head, more from habit than actual coyness, and you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt to keep him flush against you. ‘Are you trying to romance me, sir?’

‘I might just be, ma’am,’ he answers with an insolent grin. ‘If that gets me a discount.’

Rolling your eyes, you jokingly push him away and instruct him to wait here, before disappearing into the back of the shop.

Joel is browsing the jeans rack when you return, your hands full. At the questioning arch of his eyebrow, you explain, ‘Someone brought these in the other day, and I thought they’d fit you.’

‘Settin’ clothes aside for me? What would Maria say?’ he tuts, shaking out the jeans and the shirt with a skeptical look. ‘Denim on denim?’

You feign exasperation, pushing him towards the dressing room. ‘Just try them on, you insufferable man!’

It’s deja vu as you wait, hearing him disrobe on the other side of the curtain, and you cross your arms and try not to tap your foot, impatiently, excitedly -

When the curtain snaps back, you can’t help but stare.

Joel cocks his head to one side, a lopsided smile at his lips. ‘Well?’

A parody of your first meeting months ago, you parrot the same words back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He turns on his heels to face the mirror, pulling on the lapels of the denim jacket, perfect for mild autumnal evenings that don’t warrant his winter coat, but are a touch too cold to venture outside in just a shirt. The mid blue wash matches that of the jeans, comfortably mid-rise and straight cut, with the cuff upturned at the ankle of his brown boots. Without even thinking about it, hands in the pockets of the jacket, he twists around to check out his ass in his reflection, as unashamedly as you are.

Unlike that first time, Joel doesn’t need any prompting to answer your question. 

‘I look fuckin’ good, sweetheart.’

With a grin, you slide your hands around his waist, down his ass, and into the back pockets of his jeans, biting your lip when you watch his eyes darken at your boldness, while you preen in the easy confidence that fits him even better than these jeans.

‘Hell yeah, you do.’

Note: Thank you for this super cute prompt @undercoverpena! I tweaked it a little bit, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ❤️ AND I've been dying to put Joel in this ensemble, thank you for making my dreams come true 😘

[mando-abs]

Buttons

The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine. 

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe. 

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

[mando-abs]

💬 I’d love to put Pin and Joel in a compromising position (as innocent or as spicy as you like) where someone walks in on them. Specifically either Ellie or Tommy. Someone that will make Joel burn bright red with embarrassment as they rib him mercilessly. And even though Pin would normally be mortified seeing Joel squirm is so endearing and hilarious for her.

(P.S. huge fan girl of your writing ♥️)

Rookie Mistake

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 590 words | warnings: rated a very light E, making out and touching in a semi-public place | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

This is an extension of Hallow'seams, following immediately from the end of that drabble. I recommend a re-read it before diving into this one!

Joel knows it’s a rookie mistake. It’s embarrassing, really.

But when it comes down to it, it’s your fault. All the blood from his head rushes south once he spots that little costume of yours, until the only thought left is to hold you to your invitation.

‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

He never thought much of the toolbelt, a hand-me-down he picked up at the local shop in his first weeks in Jackson. 

But on you, it’s something else. Gripping the well-worn leather, he manhandles you across the small space of the bathroom to press you against a waist-high cupboard, and you take the smack on your ass as a cue to hop onto the surface with a grin.

And with that, he’s fucking throbbing for you, straining against the cheap, fake leather gladiator skirt. He knows not much can happen here, but the sound of the party just outside the flimsy door lends an excitement that makes his breath ragged.

Tipping you back so that you’re leaning against the wall, he pushes your legs apart to stand in between them. He pulls roughly on the toolbelt, prompting a gasp from you when he jolts your hips into his, rasping, ‘How am I supposed to look at that from now on, huh?’

‘Let’s just hope Tommy doesn’t borrow it,’ you sass back.

He growls at your retort, as if he can get any harder than he already is. ‘I got half a mind to tell you what to do with that smart mouth, sweetheart -’

Grabbing the scruff of his cape, you pull him in for a hard kiss, the boldness coaxing a deep groan out of him as he presses into you, big hands palming your ass and pulling you flush against him, hips rolling, rubbing his clothed cock between your thighs, chasing friction through the layers -

‘Holy shit!’

It takes Joel a second to pull back from you, the beer in his system rendering him slow to respond to the sudden interruption. But still, his first instinct is to shield you from whoever it was that showed up at the door.

That whoever turns out to be his little brother, in a baker’s costume (Maria is the oven with the bun, get it?), with a shit-eating grin on his face, leaning on the doorframe like the cat with the cream.

‘Get the fuck out of here, Tommy!’

‘I don’t know about that, big brother. Looks like you need me to rescue you from the big bad contractor trying to get under your skirt,’ he grins and waves at you over Joel’s shoulder. ‘Hey, Pin!’

Going beet red, fists clenching, Joel spits out, ‘Goddamnit, I mean it, fuck off Tommy!’

‘I wish I could, but Maria needs to pee. You know how pregnant women are.’

Breathing a frustrated breath through the nose, he grunts. ‘Fine. We’ll be right out.’

The door closes with a thud, and with an embarrassed groan, he presses his forehead to yours. ‘Sorry my brother’s such a dick, sweetheart.’

‘I heard that!’ comes Tommy’s indignant reply through the door.

You laugh, combing a hand through his tousled hair, but your glazed eyes tell him that you’re no happier at the disruption than he is. ‘What else are little brothers for?’

Making room for you, Joel catches you when you hop off the cupboard, and just so you know that the night is far from over, he slants his lips over yours in a heated kiss.

‘So - your place or mine, sweetheart?’

Note: Thank you for this request @pedroacrossthestreet! It was so fun to revisit Hallow'seams, and I absolutely had to have Tommy walk in on them, you know that man would give Joel shit for months to come 😉

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the divider.