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hellishjoel · 20 days

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reborn

1.4k / pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader

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summary: Joel’s long hair is a testament to a long life in Jackson, Wyoming. He hasn’t had time to get it cut since the birth of his daughter.

warnings/information: joel’s long hair appreciation post!!!!!, fluff, established relationship, a little swearing, soft!joel, girl dad!joel, jackson!joel, mother f!reader, ellie and joel are just fine okay!!, obvious maria appreciation, reader doesn’t have a physical appearance but has given birth

A/N: this is super short and I wrote it in 24 hours - you all know why we’re here, we saw that new picture of long haired joel miller and yadayadayada now we’re here! graphics by @saradika-graphics

There’s a new baby in Jackson.

One more teeny tiny resident. The population sign must be repainted to acknowledge its three hundred and fifth resident.

And she’s your little girl.

She’s not just perfect, she’s the center of your universe. Wrapped in a freshly hand-washed baby pink blanket, a testament to the hours of labor in Jackson’s makeshift delivery room. Joel held your hand throughout.

This was his second child, but his first with you. The flood of emotions was overwhelming, and you promised to stand by him, even if you could never truly understand the pain tangled with newfound joy.

But you should have seen the way his eyes softened at the first sight of her. Everything changed, for the both of you. His once-buried fatherly instincts took over, walking with the delivery nurse from your bed to the small cleaning station. He couldn’t let her out of his sight.

Already so protective and wound around her little finger from the moment she took her first breath and wailed her first cry.

Scream it, little one, tell the world you’re here and that you’re ours. You are already so loved with your big glowing eyes and round cheeks, your small hands curled into your chest, and you kick your tiny little feet. Stomp, roar, live.

You’re born into the most dangerous time in history, but your parents are here to protect you. The moment your baby girl was born, you and Joel were reborn.

One month old, and nothing has changed. Except for your and Joel’s sleep schedules. Tommy gave Joel temporary leave from patrol duties, which Joel did not protest. He found it impossible some days to leave the house for food and supplies.

Ellie was helpful. Despite no blood relation, she and Joel shared many qualities. She didn’t let you lift a finger if she could help it. She had moved into the garage a few months back. After all, she was a teenager who loved having space.

“You sure you don’t just wanna move back inside the house, Ellie?” She was here more often than not, and her company and help were dearly appreciated.

“And wake up to a crying baby twelve times in the middle of the night? I love you guys, but no thanks,” she teased as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“That’s fair. But the offer still stands.”

Ellie shrugs nonchalantly and lands beside you on the couch, laying her head on your shoulder as you both stare lovingly down at the baby sleeping soundly in your arms.

“I know, but you should make my old room the baby’s new one. Besides, Joel just set up my stereo, and I blast that thing non-stop. No baby is gonna like that.”

“Oh, trust me, we know.” You whisper as you kiss the top of her head, your cheek nudging against her brunette tresses tied back into a ponytail.

Ellie cooks some sort of monstrosity in the kitchen upon Joel’s return from Tommy and Maria’s. He holds piles of Maria’s hand-sewn diapers and onesies. She was a God send, a woman you consider a Jill of all trades.

Oh, Maria. She always desired that Jackson would not fall into turmoil like most of the country had surely found its way to. In her eyes, Jackson would remain a thriving and welcoming community to those who were good of heart.

That woman worked to the bone to ensure that Jackson’s residents were safe and happy. Living here was like living in a snow globe, safe from the outside world and protected from danger.

As the de facto leader of the Jackson settlement, she wore many hats. From trading and supplies to security and community welfare, Maria made it her mission to ensure that all new families found their new home in Jackson to be an inviting one—a safe haven from their old lives and here to start anew.

“Maria bartered for new cotton,” Joel whispers as he enters the living room, quiet so as not to stir the baby.

“She did?” You ask softly, sitting up slightly as you feel his hand cup your cheek from above, tilting your head back so he can give you a proper kiss.

“Yeah, she was gonna try and find somethin’ alternative to cotton for the diapers, but they set her up with some scavenged materials and clothing to make lots of diapers out of. Plus, gave her some stuff to cultivate it here. Y’know, be self-sufficient.”

“Wow,” you mutter tiredly, rubbing at your eyes as your daughter begins to twitch in your arms. “I think she hears her daddy’s voice.”

Joel cooes softly, quick to drop the items off on the kitchen counter with haphazard abandon. He grunts quietly as his knees scream for rest until he sits beside you on the couch with open palms. You delicately hand him the baby, and his eyes twinkle at the sight of her. He was adorably cute when he baby-babbled, though he swears he never does.

“Hi sweet wittle girl, pretty pwincess, did you have a good day with mommy?”

It takes you this long to realize how much his hair has grown out. Your fingers softly weave into the greying curls, twirling one around your finger before you let it fall into its natural waves.

“It’s so long, baby,” you whisper like honey.

He lets out a quiet chuckle and absentmindedly leans into your touch. “I’know. Haven’t had time to get it cut,” he turns his attention back to the little girl swaddled in his arms, “and I think I know who’s been keepin’ me so damn busy.”

You hum and gently clutch the curls at the nape of his neck, truly in awe of how long they were. You’ve never seen him let it get this long. As Joel would say, this is Tommy long. But was there really a look he couldn’t pull off?

“I, uh, I don’t want you to cut it.” Your words come off shy and sweet, making him melt as he slowly turns to look at you with a raised brow.

“Is that so?” His southern twang rolls freely off his tongue.

“Mhm, you look so handsome. I think I would cry if you got rid of that thick mane of yours.”

He chuckles again, a low and sultry one. “Alright. I’ll keep puttin’ up with it.”

“Mmm, please do. It’s sorta doin’ somethin’ for me.”

Joel pauses and watches as the aging sunlight shines over your face. He takes your hand in his large calloused one and squeezes, circling his thumb along your wrist. “You’ve given me a life I sometimes don’t feel like I deserve. A happy one. I don’t think there’s a way I can ever say thank you or I love you enough for how my life has turned out. Without you, I might be dead.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whisper as you rest your forehead against his own, both of your eyes falling closed. “You are deserving of every moment of happiness in this life. You make my life worth living. You saved us.”

Joel lets out a wet chuckle, kissing the tip of your nose before meeting your lips delicately.

In this light, the amber glow of the sun setting just beyond the walls outside, he’s so handsome. It truly makes your heart skip a beat. After all these years of pain, loss, and suffering, Joel is happy. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to make him.

During the first few weeks in this new and unfamiliar settlement, Joel would shoot up in the middle of the night, upset that he had fallen asleep. He hadn’t slept in a home with four solid walls in so long, none of you had. You remember the first night he slept soundly, snoring like a madman and nuzzling into his pillow. He was safe. There were no clickers in waiting, no scavengers to fend off. His people were protected. He could breathe.

Never did you once think that at the ends of the world, there would be room for you to feel like this. Reborn. It led you to Joel and Ellie and continued with your baby girl. Your lives are getting a second chance.

You didn’t know how long it would stay like this because nothing was forever. But you would wake up tomorrow morning and run a hand through Joel’s hair, through the pretty curls that tickled his neck, and the opportunity for it to keep growing would be another sign that your lives weren’t ending. They were only just beginning.

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#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #jackson joel miller #tlou2 #ellie tlou2

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aphroditelovesu · 2 months

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Yan!Alexander the Great w/ Soldier's Pregnant Widow!Reader

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is a commission that I was very happy to do! I'm sorry for the delay, I confess that I had forgotten this in my drafts and only remembered it after reading your messagem, anon! I hope you enjoy it and, as requested, it is more based on Alexander's feelings for the Reader. Forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: mention of death, mourning. pregnancy and fluff.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

You were the wife of one of Alexander's cavalry soldiers who, unlike many other soldiers' wives, decided to accompany him to war. You loved your husband deeply and did not want to be separated from him.

Your husband also loved you deeply. He wasn't a general or a high-ranking officer, but your husband tried to make you as comfortable as possible in this violent environment. He was loyal to you, something rare but one you appreciated. You loved him with everything in you.

Until the day you lost him. During the Battle of Granicus, your husband died in battle and your world collapsed. You had lost the man you loved and it felt like an endless road. Alexander, being the beloved King that he was, buried the dead soldiers with the necessary honors and spoke to the wives present in the camp. And one of them was you.

Alexander was immediately enchanted by you. He was surprised at how you handled your grief, clearly you loved your husband very much and the pain of the loss you felt captivated him. He didn't take long to approach you subtly at first.

Alexander was kind and protective, offering his condolences and staying by your side. His words were kind and his discreet smiles were reserved just for you. More observant people didn't take long to notice the King's interest in you, but they never dared to say anything, not when they knew his temperament.

You found yourself lost in a sea of pain and sadness, unable to find comfort in anything around you. Alexander's comforting presence was like an anchor in the midst of the storm, offering support and compassion in such a dark time. He understood your pain as he had also lost soldiers close to him.

Alexander felt compelled to protect and care for you, not only out of gratitude for your husband's sacrifice, but also because he genuinely cared for you. His discreet smiles and kind gestures were an attempt to ease your pain, to be a ray of light amid the darkness you faced.

Although you fought your feelings, you found yourself enjoying the King's presence. But you soon discovered that you were pregnant by your late husband and you decided to focus on honoring your husband's memory and focusing on the baby growing inside you.

Alexander didn't like it at all when you tried to move away from him but he soon understood why. He wasn't angry or anything, but surprised and slightly bothered. You would have a child, something he wanted, but it wouldn't be with him. He couldn't blame you, though, it wasn't your fault.

As time passed, your belly grew and the pain of loss lessened, you found yourself more and more involved in the camp's activities, keeping yourself busy to keep away the thoughts that haunted you at night. And you found yourself increasingly close to Alexander, who made his feelings for you very clear.

He respected the fact that you weren't ready to get married due to the fact that you were pregnant, he could wait until the baby was born. But he wasn't far from you, spending his free time by your side while also taking care of you. You owned your own tent and personal effects, along with those of your late husband.

In time, your husband's child was born, and you held it in your arms with love and sadness. It was a part of him you would carry forever, a living reminder of the man you loved so much. Alexander was present and he acted as if your child were his. He didn't even like it when people mentioned it wasn't his.

You were his and your baby was his too. Alexander was skeptical about it at first but he warmed up to the idea. The mourning period is over and your child has been born, now it is time for you to become his wife and have children of his own.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere headcanons #headcanons #soft yandere #commission #x reader

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idksmtms · 4 months

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For Anyone But Us (Criston Cole x Alicent's Daughter!reader)

A/N: Sorry Daeron, you didn’t exist here either

Summary: You had grown up with Ser Criston as your protector, and almost a father figure. You didn’t know when exactly you began to crave him in carnal ways, in ways that had you blushing redder than a summer strawberry and running to hide away. But now you can handle it no longer. You must have him.

Word count: 3,867

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap, oral f & m receiving, handjob, smut smut smut, self-hating, slightly manipulative reader (??), daddy issues, sexualising a father figure, era-typical negative view of sex, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You sat in your mother’s quarters, embroidery on your lap and a gentle melody humming from your lips. She was answering letters at her writing table while you reclined on her couch, enjoying the sudden breeze that had settled upon king’s landing and blew through her open windows. Occasionally you looked up to Ser Criston, standing stoic as ever by the door, and offered him a joyful little smile, one which he returned in his own muted way.

Since you were born, you have been your mother’s constant companion. From her breast to her lap to her side, you have spent almost your entire life beside her. You are her youngest child, the apple of her eye by far, and the one that looks most like her. When you cried, she was the only one to comfort you, when you showed an interest in music, she had the best musicians come to foster your talent, when you said you wanted to learn history, she had as many books as would fit in your chambers brought from the library. You may be half Targaryen, but you will always be Alicent’s daughter.

Due to being your mother’s constant companion, you soon became one for Ser Criston as well. Alicent trusted no guard more than Ser Criston and so he often had the task of being your carer. He has soothed your tears and washed your cuts when you’ve played too hard. He has tickled you until your laughs became shrieks and been the first to compliment every single one of your new dresses. You have grown up watching Ser Criston be your mother’s protector, be your protector. When you think of safety, you think of his face. So it makes sense that when you look upon his face as he watches out the window, a stoic set to his lips and brow, that your chest heats up and an errant throb pangs between your legs?

You don’t really remember when you started feeling this way for him. You vividly remember one night, a feast for some celebration or other, and your mother had gifted you a new dress made of silk dyed in thin red water to make the prettiest baby pink. The maids had done your hair with intricate braids and curls that fell down your back but left your neck and chest exposed. You had rushed out of your room and found Ser Criston first, hopping in front of him to show off the dress. You had spun around in excitement, swishing the skirt of your dress back and forth and asking him what he thought. He had said you were the most beautiful girl in the world with a smile on his face and those dark eyes of his that never truly softened and kept a certain harsh quality to them. Your whole chest had turned red and your stomach had twisted in the most pleasurable way and you had wanted him to watch you for the rest of eternity. Even during the feast you had kept standing by him despite your siblings scolding you to mingle, pouting like a child if he turned his attention away from you for even a minute.

Another memory, only a few years past, when Aegon had said something to upset you and you had come sobbing to your mother. After soothing your tears she had left you in her quarters under the watchful eye of Ser Criston to go and scold Aegon. You had sidled up to him, asking if whatever taunt Aegon had made was true. He had been quick to shush you, telling you that Aegon was a young man and he could still be stupid, that you needn’t take everything he said to heart. You had pressed yourself to his chest then, wrapping your arms around the armour on his midriff. He had gently rubbed your back for a few moments before clearing his throat and pulling away, guiding you back to the couch and bringing you whatever embroidery project you had left on the side table. But the feeling of his large hand on your back, his palm and fingers spanning so wide, his smell and even the look of his skin from so close had stuck inside your mind and body and you had tossed and turned that entire night to thoughts of him.

You startled out of your thoughts of the man when your mother abruptly stood from her chair, tutting as she mumbled to herself about the time. You knew she was overdue to tea with Larys Strong so you smiled cheekily at her as she breezed past you, pressing a kiss to your head before heading to the door.

“Ser Criston, stay here with Y/n, I shall take Ser Berrill with me to my meeting,” and she was out the door before Criston could nod his assent.

You smiled then, looking to where Ser Criston stood and abandoning your embroidery to skip over to him. He smiled at you, bowing his head in greeting and you giggled. Criston didn’t know when that had become his favourite sound in the world but it was better than even the Septon bells on a wedding day.

“I think I shall head back to my quarters Ser Criston, accompany me?” You asked, reaching to grab his arm and threading yours through his. Criston cleared his throat and nodded, his neck and cheeks going hot at the feeling of your body pressed so close to his side. It was inappropriate for a girl of your age and stature to be standing so close to him. But you had been doing this all your life, and despite the whispers that now began to pervade the keep about this behaviour, you refused to stop. (And of course Ser Criston was incapable of saying no to you).

Criston opened the door and led the way out into the hallway, walking slow enough for you to keep pace with him. You were chattering on about something or other, he was too busy surveying your surroundings to fully pay attention, and the glimpse of your breasts that he caught every time he looked down to you was enough for him to keep his eyes away from your form completely.

“...and that’s why Aemond has cemented his place as my favourite brother.” You giggled and he couldn’t help but look down to you again, smiling distractedly when he caught sight of the way your breasts curved under your emerald green gown, at the slight bumps of your nipples that he could see through the fabric.

“He is a true prince of the realm and a great brother for you, Princess,” Criston answered, hoping it would be enough of an answer for you. You smiled and nodded and began on another story but stopped as you reached the doors to your chambers. You paused outside the door, opening and closing your mouth a few times. You chewed at the tip of the nail on your index finger and looked up at Criston with big doe eyes that had his entire body clenching up.

“Ser Criston… would you come into my chambers with me? I don’t particularly feel like being alone right now.” You were twisting side to side at the waist lightly, hoping he would cave.

“I do not think that is appropriate Princess,” he replied quietly, voice going low and gruff.

“Please, Ser Criston? There is nothing wrong with my protector joining me in my chambers,” you argued, eyes going teary.

“Princess…” he sighed, shaking his head. “We may know we are not doing anything scandalous but others will not know. I will not be responsible for anyone questioning your honour.” You sighed, almost admitting defeat, before looking up at him once more.

“What if there is someone in there right now, waiting to destroy my honour? Then it would be irresponsible of you not to accompany me into my chambers,” you smiled triumphantly, before quickly pouting again when you remembered that cheekiness would not work in your favour.

“Do not speak of such things Princess,” he replied sharply, swallowing aggressively at the thought of someone daring to come close to you with those intentions.

“Then do not risk it Ser Criston and accompany me into my chambers,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Criston sighed once more before nodding in acquiescence. He knew you would always win, it was only a matter of how long he was willing to fight against you.

You smiled brightly and grabbed onto his arm, dragging him into the room with you and shutting the door firmly behind you, sliding the lock closed before Criston could even realise you had done it.

You leaned back against the door and watched him stand in the middle of the room, looking around the entire room before deeming it safe for you. He turned back to you and saw the mischievous smile on your face before sighing once more.

“The room is safe Princess, I must return to my guardpost now,” he said, but he knew it would be easier said than done leaving now that he was inside. You just shook your head, continuing to block the door.

“But I don’t feel safe Ser Criston, you must stay and continue protecting me,” you whined, rushing forward and falling to your knees right in front of him. You clasped one of his hands between yours and pouted as he began trying to get you to stand up. If someone walked in now and saw the princess on her knees in front of a knight, he would be sent to death quicker than he could pray for forgiveness.

“Stand up Princess, please, you should not be on the floor,” he sounded pained, holding onto your elbows and trying to get you to stand without yanking you up. You just shook your head and did something that made his heart stop directly in his chest. You brought his hands to your lips and gently kissed the backs of both, staring up at him from under fluttering eyelashes.

“This is exactly where I should be, Ser Criston. You have protected me my entire life, you have cared for me like no other, loved me like no other. I am devoted to you even beyond the gods. It is only right that I show you my devotion, show you my thanks, right here on my knees.” All breath abandoned him as he looked upon you, innocent and pure, on your knees with your face right by his cock. He swallowed harshly, shaking his head. No, no, no. He could not do this. He had abandoned his vows once already. And while he wholeheartedly believed that if he abandoned them with you then it wouldn’t be a waste as it had been with Rhaenyra, the thought of sullying you, of allowing himself to feel all that… heat and desperation, filled him with a shame that would eventually kill him.

“Princess, please heed my words, you cannot do this, we cannot do this. You say I have protected you my entire life, and it is from this too I have protected you. From the men who wish to steal your honour and sully your body. I will not be one of them.” He wanted to sound firm but it came out pleading, almost verging on a desperate whine that had you frowning and tilting your head.

“I only want you, Ser Criston. I don’t want any other, and I know I never will. You have never denied me anything, please do not deny me this,” your lip began to wobble and tears pooled so quickly in your eyes that they began to spill over before he could try and sway you away. You began to blubber and he dropped to his knees awkwardly in his armour,

“Please don’t cry Princess, please don’t cry,” he begged, throwing off his gloves and cupping your face with his hands as you began to sniffle. His skin was rough and warm and you rubbed your cheek into his palm like a puppy.

“You will not be sullying me, you will still be protecting me. If you do this for me then I will know what love feels like and I will know how to judge a suitor. I-I will know what pleasure feels like,” you added shyly, leaning closer to him. “You will only be teaching me. There is nothing wrong with teaching, you have been teaching me and my brothers since we were children.”

Criston sighed and shook his head, grunting at the battle that waged a war in his head. He closed his eyes, knowing that if he kept looking at you he would break much too quickly. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for anyone. It was wrong to be such a lustful creature. But you whimpered and whined in his hands, turning to press open-mouthed kisses against his palms and he could feel the cracks appearing in his resolve along with his shame. When you took his index finger into your mouth, sucking on it like a child with a treat, the feeling of your warm, wet, mouth had spikes of hot pleasure shooting through his body and any remaining resolve dissolving as easier than salt into water.

Criston moaned, too loud for his liking, and his breath shook out of him, head bowing as he panted against his chest. You could see the change in him, could see that you had won as his free hand began to roughly tug at the straps of his chestplate. It fell away and clattered onto the floor as you continued sucking on his finger, swirling your tongue around the digit. Criston sucked in a breath before pulling his finger from your mouth, cupping your cheek with the same hand and spreading your spit over your face. He pulled you into a kiss, a harsh thing that had you gasping and keening and yelping slightly when your bottom lip pinched between his mouth and your teeth. But all bonds on him had been unleashed, and he was ravenous.

You fell against him, becoming just as desperate though with far less experience. You shoved your hands into his hair and pressed your chest to his, settling yourself onto his lap as he fell back onto the floor, torso held up by his elbows. He plunged his tongue into your mouth while you collected your skirts into your hands so you could sit on him without any intrusion. Criston pulled away from you, panting against your mouth for a moment before gently shoving you off and standing up again. He began undoing the rest of his armour and you sat on your knees and watched him. His hair was mussed from your hands and his cheeks had gone rosy pink. You heard the clanks of metal as each piece fell away and more of his body was revealed to you. The soft clothes he wore underneath were next, his shirt pulled over his head and tossed to the side without a care in the world.

The soft bronze skin of his abdomen was taut and curved along each defined muscle. A light dusting of dark hair sat along his chest and trailed down his stomach until it disappeared below his breeches. You couldn’t handle being away from him any longer, a desperate heat crawling over your skin as if bugs had begun buzzing under your skin.

You shuffled forward on your knees until you were right before him. You pressed a hand to the warm skin of his stomach, lightly scratching your nails down toward the waist of his pants. He shuddered, curling forward slightly and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Princess…” he sighed, but he didn’t stop you either.

You slipped your fingers into the waistband and slowly began to move it down. His cock caught in it before popping out and gently slapping against his abdomen. You stared at it, mouth suddenly full of saliva and legs trembling. You reached out and grasped it, the skin soft and burning hot. The tip was bright red and glistening, a small pearl dribbling out of it and sliding down the length. Another pearl dribbled onto your hand and you tightened your hold on him, listening to the gasps and moans he let out. You didn’t know where the desire to kiss it, to lick it, came from but you didn’t deny a single thing your body desired. You leaned forward and licked just under the head of his cock, smacking your lips slightly to try and decipher what exactly the taste was, before going in for another lick. You ran your tongue up the length of his shaft and back down. The hand on your shoulder clenched tight into your gown and pulled you closer to him. You opened your mouth wide and took the head just past your lips, suckling on it. You stared up into Criston’s face, his mouth open as he panted and moaned like he was in the most pain a man had ever felt. The sounds of your mouth smacking as you suckled on his cock echoed into the room and you rubbed your legs together. It sounded so wrong but oh so good.

You pulled off of his length before going back to drag long licks along the length of his shaft. Everywhere you could reach you licked until Criston was keening loudly and pulling away.

“Princess! Princess, please,” he huffed, cupping your face as you sat there staring up at him. You reached to your back and pulled on the ties to unlace your dress as much as you could on your own. The top loosened and the collar fell below your breasts, baring them to the cool air and the eyes of your protector. Your nipples had pebbled and you shivered as the cool air of the keep brushed over your skin.

Criston stood you up and you allowed the dress to fall fully to your waist, smiling unashamedly as he continued to stare at your body. You wanted him to see you, to see every part of you. You loved him like you had loved no other, and you wanted to show him somehow. He led you to your bed, sitting on the edge and staring up at you. He bent forward and kissed the space between your breasts, rubbing his cheeks against the flesh on either side of his head. He breathed in the smell of your skin, kissing along the softness to your left nipple. He swirled his tongue over it, flicking it, before engulfing it with his mouth and sucking lightly. His mouth felt too hot against your skin and you moaned as you leaned back slightly to continue watching him.

Criston pulled away and cupped your other breast, massaging it and rubbing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. It felt almost ticklish on the sensitive skin but sparks shot through you all the same.

“Ser Criston,” you whimpered, pressing your chest further into his hand and hoping he would put his mouth back to the skin.

“Yes, Princess, yes,” he said hurriedly, but instead of returning to your breasts, he bent at the waist and brought his face to your pussy. You gasped, his thumbs resting against either side and peeling your sticky lips apart.

You had felt the slick begin to seep out of you and slowly spread from your hole and over your lips, but to see his face begin to press between your thighs, to feel his thumbs gently rub the soft skin and hear the way he inhaled deeply as he settled his chin on the crevice of your thighs had you moaning louder than you ever had before.

“We must be quiet Princess,” he whispered, but you paid it no heed as he dove his tongue between your thighs right then.

His tongue was hot and wet, the rough bumps rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin of your pussy. He licked from bottom to top before focusing on a little nub near the top of the crevice, suckling on it so heat shot straight through you and your legs buckled. You were bowing over him now, nails digging into the skin of his back as you rested on his shoulder, panting and wailing. He lapped at your cunt like a dog drinking water, desperate and aggressive. He slurped and pressed his face as far as it would go into your flesh. You could feel his chin rub against the skin of your thighs, slipping and sliding in the juices that had dribbled out of you. From this angle only the tip of his tongue could reach your hole and he pushed it in just so, pulling it out and pushing it back in so your entrance clenched and unclenched over it, the rim becoming sensitive.

“Ser Criston!” You wailed, bucking against his face as he moved it back and forth, his nose rubbing against that swollen little nub that made you feel like the world was bursting behind your eyes.

You pressed your mouth to his back, and in a fleeting moment of clarity remembered that he needed to reach his release as well. You slid one of your hands between your bodies and grasped his cock, choking on a gasp when he moaned right into your flesh and the vibrations spread through every nerve ending. You grasped him tighter and he hissed. You mumbled apologies into his skin before beginning to jerk your hand back and forth along his shaft, listening to the squelch of not only his mouth on your pussy but his cum spreading over his shaft beneath your hand. The pleasure rose within you, his hips bucked frantically up into your hand, your legs twitched uncontrollably, your skin was on fire. Everything felt like it was moving too fast all of a sudden, a wave rising in your legs and stomach and deep in your core. He was moaning against you and the vibrations finally sent you over the edge, heat and overwhelming pleasure throbbing through you. Your fingers twitched and your arms felt like jelly and your ears were rushing with blood. You couldn’t hear Criston’s moans as he spurted onto your thighs and hands, as he pressed his face to your stomach and moaned.

When your ears quieted you could hear the mingling of both of your panted breaths, could feel the saliva that had drooled from your mouth and smeared onto his back under your cheek. Your weight was completely resting over his shoulder and you could feel the stickiness all along your thighs, the breeze beginning to cool it and sending shivers down your spine. Your hand was sticky and you slowly peeled it away from his cock. Criston shivered and slowly brought you off his shoulder and into his lap. You stared into his eyes, deep brown and endless. He leaned down and kissed you, lips salty and slick.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” you said, smiling against his mouth.

Taglist: @autumnhymns

#hotd x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #criston cole x you #criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole x oc #ser criston #alicent hightower #queen alicent #alicent's daughter reader #team green #hotd smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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joelsgoldrush · 11 months

Text

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me <///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by.

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night.

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on?

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities.

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.”

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?”

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing.

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about.

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you.

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?”

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around?

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame.

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames.

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket.

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp.

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you.

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room.

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.”

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick.

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room.

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse.

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

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fuckyeahisawthat · 1 month

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One of the most interesting things about the Atreides characters to me is the constant tension between formal and informal power dynamics going on in that House.

Leto and Jessica seem to have a fairly equitable relationship where they genuinely love and respect each other. This rests entirely on the fact that Leto is generally a Good Dude on an interpersonal level, who like, sees Jessica as a person and recognizes and appreciates her intelligence, skills and political acumen. While concubine to the head of a Great House seems to be a fairly high-status role in their world, we know it is not equal in social standing to the role of a wife, and certainly not equal to the male head of the House. Leto does treat Jessica as his equal informally, but by the social rules of their world he certainly doesn't have to.

Similarly, Leto treats Gurney, Duncan and Thufir like trusted colleagues and confidantes, and while they formally treat him with a certain amount of deference (addressing him as Sire or my Lord and accepting that he will be the final authority on things), it's also clear that informally, none of them are hesitant to speak their minds in front of him, offer suggestions or contradict him on something.

Paul's relationships with Duncan and Gurney are similarly complex. They're both older than him and serve as his mentors/teachers. Neither of them are afraid to tease him, challenge him, or reprimand him when they think he's doing something risky. They love him in an almost-familial way and would protect him with their lives. It seems like Paul would like to be friends with them on equal terms. But formally they are both his servants. Or, more precisely, while Leto is alive they are his father's servants and know they have Leto to answer to if anything should happen to his son.

The moments when the formal power dynamics assert themselves are always fascinating. When Paul and Gurney are first reunited, I would say Gurney is still treating Paul like a Duke's son and not a Duke. He's loyal and he is overjoyed to know Paul is still alive, but he still calls Paul by his first name and talks to him like he's giving advice to someone who's still learning. But then there is that moment when Paul pulls rank and gives Gurney a direct order to go to the south and Gurney's demeanor immediately shifts. He only ever addresses Paul as my Lord after that, and he treats him with a deference that makes it clear they are lord and vassal, not friends or family members.

(And like, technically once Leto is dead, Paul is the Duke and everyone in House Atreides is Paul's vassal--including Jessica. Practically when it comes to Paul giving Jessica an order she does not want to follow...well I would like to see him fucking try.)

Leto's leadership style with those close to him seems very much based on creating a familial, mutually protective vibe that wins him intense loyalty. (It is really interesting to see him try this on Stilgar who doesn't buy it for a second.) We see Paul try to emulate that, possibly with an even more intense longing for relationships of genuine equality that's born out of growing up with no peers of his same age and status around him.

But there is still always a little bit of power imbalance, because the chill vibes rely entirely on the continued benevolence of the Atreides men, and that benevolence can be withdrawn at any time.

#dune #dune part two #paul atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica #duncan idaho #gurney halleck #house atreides #i like to imagine paul trying to explain all these wack power dynamics to chani and shishakli and them being like. what the fuck dude

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xjulixred45x · 7 months

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I was thinking.....Satoru Gojo with an older brother reader.

KIND OF SECOND PART

Whether you were several years older than Satoru or just a year, as soon as he was born you were completely forgotten by the entire Gojo clan, of course, they kept you alive and continued to love you, but you were definitely no longer a priority at all unlike your younger brother born with the Six Eyes.

It hurts at first, but you quickly realize that it's actually not such a good thing to be your little brother. He is spoiled non-stop, yes, but even when he is just a baby, you see how the rest of the clans see him as a threat, a nuisance, something more than a someone.

and that hurts you even more.

so you decide to be a good older brother to Satoru, even if he has the world on his shoulders, you always try to let him be as much of a child as possible.whether it's spoiling him with candy, taking him out of training sessions, showing him Digimon games(he thanks You this FOR LIFE), etc.

and Satoru is no stranger to this.

everyone knows it, he is a spoiled child when it comes to his "big older brother" who, although weaker than him, definitely keeps very close while they grow up. Satoru is very grateful that you tried to give him a childhood even if it was not possible due to his context, you treated him with great affection that was different from the others, it was tender, sweet, genuine.

Thanks to this you always had more "control" over Satoru than everyone in the Gojo clan, either to make him behave or at least not make so many problems.

Satoru literally changed his face completely when it was YOU who spoke to him. Did you see that scene where he was walking through the city alone when he was a kid? You can bet you were looking for him for a solid half hour and when he saw you he said, "don't look at me weaklings" to "howdy Big bro :D" in seconds.

In general Satoru is very clingy with his older brother, if he has to go out with him, he is attached to his leg or his hand, on his shoulders, on a piggyback, etc. His personal favorite is when his brother carries him, with his arms around his neck and his legs curled up, he can even fall asleep like that.

and rest assured that Satoru fiercely protects his older brother, even if he is not weak, the difference in power between the two is overwhelming, so Satoru will not hesitate to go on the defensive for his brother. not only in battle, but also against ignorant people who try to harm him in some way, be it tarnishing his reputation, making him feel less than, any of those things are a great offense in Satoru's eyes, he is not going to tolerate it.

He only becomes more attached to his brother as he grows up, if you have a girlfriend/boyfriend, Satoru will be judging them non-stop, for him no one is worthy of his brother, but if they make you happy, he is happy, but they would have to meet a minimum number of requirements to enter the family (even the Gojo Clan backs him up with this).

Satoru greatly appreciates his brother's ideology now that he is in Jujutsu Tech, now that he believes he understands better what it means to be the strongest. but when reality hits him with what happened with Geto and Amanai, his brother is the first to console him, even thinking that he has failed them in some way, because HE is supposed to be the older brother who protects the younger one, and that he cannot that he was completely young, he feels that he completely failed Satoru. that he has been a bad brother.

and Satoru will not listen to this nonsense.

Satoru refuses to let you put yourself down and your efforts to take care of him, to avoid all this, you are the best brother he could ask for. the only.

(imagine his reaction when he found out that Satoru had impulsively adopted a child from someone who almost killed him and he KILLED on top of it)

Both brothers mature as the years go by, you may even have your own family (with someone you love who miraculously passed the requirements of the Gojo and Satoru) and if you have children, damn, Satoru would spoil them SOOOOO much, he's the quintessential funny uncle(and handsome, he says)

Gojo's coworkers don't understand, how the hell does someone like Gojo of all people have a sweet, thoughtful family man as a brother? It is a mystery to everyone.

Satoru would be somewhat calmer if his brother decides not to continue being a sorcerer, but if he continues to be a sorcerer, he will definitely make him go on all his missions with him, his brother is not like him and he knows it, they both have the same ideas, they hate the ones in charge, and they REFUSE to let these kids' youth be stolen-

but Satoru does not have a family to return to, Satoru does not have a home with people who depend on him in a genuine and loving way, his brother does. but the higher ups wouldn't be bothered if he died simply because it's not him

For the same reason, Satoru Gojo will protect the weak even if it seems exhausting, he will save the world if necessary, because also in this world is his brother,and also the world that his brother wants to protect is only the most precious thing to him, who is only half of his.

_____

Shares, reblogs, and comments are very welcome!

#jjk #male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojou satoru x reader #platonic gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #platonic

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devoted-tiefling · 9 months

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a/n: a stupid brain rot thing that was inspired by my post here ft. my completely blind tav who is a tiefling druid with a propensity to dream

warning: spoilers for act one of the game

You rolled the ring around in between your fingers like a coin, turning it over on the backs of your fingers, flipping it side over side.

Though it was made with cheap metal, it felt warm in your hand instead of cool. Probably because you held onto it so often.

Normally, you wouldn't have been able to read what was on it but the infernal was carved in well enough that you could feel the grooves of it under your fingertips.

Most of it was just nonsense; runes taken out of a fairytale book perhaps or maybe just symbols that kid took a fancy to.

The infernal, however, on the inside spelled well-wishes; love, luck, protection. it was the wish of every single tiefling ever born since anyone could remember.

Just running your finger over them made you feel warm, made you feel understood and maybe just a little bit less lonely.

"And what are you up to, darling?"

You knew that voice to be Astarion and all his rather sassy glory. Immediately, you smiled, sitting up a bit straighter as you felt him sit down next to you, his thigh pressed tightly against yours.

"Just fiddling, biding time." You answered easily enough, shrugging as you continued to roll your finger around the inside of the ring.

Astarion hummed, sounding like he was trying to seem uninterested when, truly, it was always the opposite "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" You asked only to answer your own question "Oh, play with this ring?"

"Yes. Look at it. The gold is slowly flaking off!" Astarion huffed and you could imagine him rolling his eyes "I hope you didn't give those tiefling brats good money for a phony gold ring."

You let out a little tittering giggle before holding out your free hand. Astarion, so used to you now, automatically put his palm against yours.

"Feel the grooves underneath." You guided one of his fingers into the ring.

You knew approximately where his finger was so you knew what word it was he was feeling for "Hope."

You let him run his fingertip over that for a moment before turning the ring more "Shelter."

Then, the next, just as carved in as the last "Protection."

On and on, you showed him the small miniscule words that carried heavy meaning to them. Love, luck, kindness.

Six words that probably meant a whole lot to those kids.

"The brat told me it was a ring of infinite wishes but, really, it was a ring filled with their wishes." You let Astarion pull away and, like always, you immediately missed the comforting press of his body against yours.

"What a load of horseshit." He chuckled but your perceptive twitching tiefling ears immediately heard it for what it was: a bluff.

You didn't think Astarion realised it but you knew he saw himself in those tiefling kids.

You knew that, if it had been him 100 or so years ago, he would've carved his wishes into metal in a desperate hope that, perhaps, some higher-power would hear him out then.

So, despite how you'd practically kept the ring in your fist ever since you'd gotten it, you felt around for Astarion's hand yet again and placed the ring snuggly into his ring finger.

Astarion let out a soft scoff "I hope you don't think I'll marry you if you're proposing with such a cheap ring."

You laughed again, tittering, soft, before leaning in, your lips brushing against Astarion's jaw "I want you to have it so your wishes come true instead."

"Oh, darling, if my wishes came true, the world would truly become an insanely dark place." He countered your sincerity with his own little quip but you knew he appreciated it because his calling hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"I wouldn't mind as long as I'm by your side." You snuggled in while being careful of your horns, happy to indulge in the intimacy Astarion was allowing you "It's not like I'll see first-hand what dastardly deeds you're up to anyway so I'll have plausible deniability."

The way Astarion laced his fingers with yours and laughed made the bad joke worth it. You especially enjoyed the new chill the ring on his fingers took on, comforting and smooth against your skin.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 10 months

Text

Part 2 - let the world know

“I wish I could let the world know that it’s okay to let the pain show and even though times seem bad, it always rains before the rainbow.” -A Little More by Machine Gun Kelly

Dp x DC: Regent!Jazz AU Vigilante!Jazz AU

Prompt Masterlist

In traditional Fenton luck, shit goes sideways when Jazz wasn’t looking.

The Joker breaks out of Arkham.

Now, Jazz is fully aware of the Clown’s evil-ness and Danny’s trauma with all things Circus thanks to Freakshow has her hackles raised when the spirits of Gotham start screeching in her ear mid-patrol that “Joker is free!”

Like hell the guy would stay that way.

Lady Gotham is anxiously watching the Regent stomp towards Arkham, where the Mad Clown had yet to fully leave the premises into Gotham proper.

Would Jazz kill the Clown?

Many of the Unquiet Dead of Gotham are the staunchest supporters of kill, kill, kill on a good day, but with the Clown?

They seethed, they writhed, they thirsted for their vengeance and with every life taken by the Joker, the number grew.

Jazz hated the thought of death, ironically.

It’s one thing to rule the Dead and Never-born, but to add to the Realms' population by her own hand?

(It wouldn't be the first time.)

Well, Jasmine Nightingale would have to check her morals at the door, because when Lady Gotham begins to hesitantly (then vivaciously) root for you to “please end him, dear” one has to reconsider a few things about themselves.

For instance, how would she avoid becoming the next Joker? It was a hushed confession of the Lady that made Jazz hesitate at the border between Gotham and Arkham-

A dead man's switch would trigger a Joker Venom bomb, infecting those nearby.

Would the gas affect a Liminal?

True, Jazz was very much a living being (she often woke up in a cold sweat with a hand at her neck, heart beating against her fingers), but she was Death-claimed.

Was this how Danny felt as a Halfa? Weighing the living half vs the dead to see which would win out in a fight?

Not for the first time, Jazz found herself thankful that she was only Liminal.

Heart in her throat, Jazz considered her options.

It would be easy to just run him through with her ecto-sword, a gift from her once-mentor Pandora, but she would likely have to fight her way through bats and birds to both get to and away from the Clown.

Jazz could also just ask for aid from Lady Gotham and/or the Unquiet Dead to enshroud her from vigilant eyes as she absconds with Joker to Crime Alley.

(Jazz was sure Red Hood wouldn’t mind if she dropped a dead clown at his feet. He seemed the type to appreciate a job well done.)

(If her heart raced slightly in response to that thought, no it didn’t.)

Despite all her reservations about murder, killing the clown felt like an honor for the Regent.

(Blood had long since been on her hands.)

The morning would bring chaos as the people learned of the Joker's fate, Batman's failure to return him to Arkham, and how someone finally had enough of the black furry's inaction to stop the clown.

Sometimes, inaction is just as bad as action.

(A Fenton who learned that well.)

Jazz, in full Regent armor, mounted the Joker's head at the mouth of her alleyway, the same one that she used as a checkpoint between her apartment and the Park Row graveyard. A grotesque trophy that would be used as a symbol of the Regent's authority to avenge, of her willingness to cross the line of morality.

The Unquiet Dead who owed their demise to the Joker could now pass on and Jazz could call it a night.

That was, until whatever tomorrow brought around to spite the younger Fentons.

Typical.

=============================

[This was more of a short fic rather than the prompt I first started with, but it just came to me. I want to explore some things with events leading up to Danny and Jazz in Gotham, but I'm not sure. I need help to describe Jazz's armor because I have a general idea, but I'm not sure about the details. Ideas?]

[Hopefully I'll be able to put more Regent!Jazz than Vigilante!Jazz, but I also really like Jazz as one. Bet you can't guess the name I use for her as a vigilante!]

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc au #dpxdc #jazz fenton #Regent!Jazz #Liminal!Jazz #Jazz kills Joker #Sprinkle of Anger Management in there somewhere.#Vigilante!Jazz

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seeingivy · 10 months

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Heyy Ronnie! It's my birthday today. I was wondering if you could do a reader x gojo fic where reader is kinda sad on her bday? Like people are showing her love but due to bad previous bdays she feels low sometimes during the day? And she feels like she isn't worthy of the love she's getting now after these years (from friends and parents)? Ofc satoru is by her side telling her good things hehe🥹

birthday pick me up

satoru x f!reader

content: good ol birthday fluff, dad gojo w megs + tsumiki, no evil suguru bc idagf this my fake world we are all happy in it

an: MY BELOVED BABIE!!! I SPEED RAN THIS SO I COULD MAKE SURE IT GOT TO YOU ON YOUR BIRTHDAY. as a fellow emo birthday sharer (the stories in this fic are literally taken from my own birthdays that were horrible lol), i hope you find a way to make this day wonderful. spoiler non spoiler for the fic, another year you fight on is always something to celebrate!!! I wish a wonderful year of happiness and love ahead for you sweetie pie, I hope you have a wonderful, wonderful day <3

as you write up the mission report, your fingers splayed right against your temples trying to soothe the tension, the root cause of all problems in your life - your very ridiculous boyfriend - sets something down on your desk.

you look up to find a very cheeky grin on his face, teetering on that fine line that he toes between bothersome and endearing as he waits for your response.

“satoru.”

“yes, my love?”

“why did you just give me a muffin with wax on it?”

he frowns, his upper lip jutting out into a soft pout.

“it’s a cupcake, baby.”

“where’s the frosting, master chef?”

he yanks his blindfold down, a guilty smile pressed on his face.

“in my stomach. you just took so long on your mission and i got so hungry that i just ate some. just a teeny tiny bite.”

you lift the sad excuse of a cupcake into the air between you two, glaring at him with your eyes narrowed. he gives you a sheepish smile in response, as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead in apology.

“what’s with the wax in the middle?”

“that’s a candle.”

“why is there a candle in my non-cupcake?”

“it’s august first, sweet thing! it’s the start of y/n month!” he responds, so matter of factly like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

you now realize what’s happening. and you’re going to stop it in your tracks.

back in december, you surprised satoru and megumi - deeming the entire month of december their month and giving them little surprises and gifts for the entire thirty one days. it was more for megumi than satoru at first.

“megs.”

“yes, y/n?”

“what flavor birthday cake do you want, kid? we’ll order it soon so it’s all nice and ready to be picked up on friday, okay?”

you turn around to find him sitting there with a blank face. you walk up to his side, leaning over so your eyes can be level with his.

“are you one of those kids who hates cake? we can do ice cream, muffins, even vegetables if that’s what tickles your fancy. whatever you want, okay?”

and when he mutters out those six words, it stops you in your tracks all together.

“i’ve never had birthday cake before. i don’t know which one i like.”

after he admitted that to you, you made sure that you and satoru went the entire six miles for him, so that he’d love his birthday, so he could feel special. because of course that asshole toji never did it for him.

you ordered every flavor of cake so he could pick a favorite (vanilla won) and got piles and piles of gifts with the gojo clan money. and since satoru is satoru, you had to make sure he had his fair share of celebration that month too since they were both born in december.

you never expected them to do it back. and you didn’t want him to either. and it’s not that you don’t appreciate it or don’t love him for wanting to go the extra mile for you because you do, it’s just that…

you hate birthdays.

after a string of misfortunes year after year, of counting down the days just to be kicked down, has turned you off from the holiday all together.

after inviting everyone to your fifteenth birthday at the bowling alley, just to have no one show up. to sit there in embarrassment, convincing your parents for hours on end that people will show up, that they’ll eat the cake your mom spent hours making just to take the entire thing home and get an embarrassing reminder every time you opened the fridge.

or your nineteenth birthday. when your parents had an important graduation party to go to and your siblings were out of town, when you spent the entire day wallowing in your room, your phone absent of notifications. because no one remembered and those who did didn’t care enough to stay.

year after year, a cruel reminder that a day that’s supposed to be special, that’s supposed to be about you, is anything but.

you can make sure that megumi, tsumiki, and satoru don’t feel the same. that their special days aren’t tainted. but yours is already far beyond repair and you’d like to keep it where it is. deep in your mind, where no one can touch it.

“satoru. can we not do y/n month? i-i don’t want to celebrate my birthday.”

satoru, for all intents and purposes, looks like a kicked dog.

“what do you mean? you love birthdays!”

“i love your birthday, ‘toru. and miki and megs too but i don’t want all that for mine. it’s- let’s just pretend its a normal day. i’ll go to work, we’ll eat dinner, and then you can be nice to me and i can get some at the end of the night, if you know what i mean.” you say, giving him a cheeky grin.

he brings his hands up to your cheeks, cupping your face in his hands.

“but it’s your birthday, silly. i’ll let you get some, obviously, but we have to do more than that.” he responds, frowning.

you lean into his touch, his hands moving to snake around your waist as you sigh into his chest.

“toru. the best present you can give me is if we do nothing. i-i don’t like to think about my birthday because it makes me sad and i just want to have a normal day with the three of you. i-i don’t expect you to understand but can you just do that for me? is that okay?” you ask, looking up at his sparkly blue eyes, in the few moments they’re free from his blindfold.

he leans forward, to press the softest kiss to your lips, before pulling back.

“okay. no birthday.”

you should have known better that satoru gojo does not take no for an answer.

you wake up in the morning to two very smiley faces and one teeny tiny smile staring at you. satoru, tsumiki, and megumi are all wearing matching purple birthday hats, surrounded in a plethora of streamers in your bedroom. the second you flicker your eyes open, they all pop confetti into the air, the sound catching you off guard.

“oh my-”

“happy birthday, my love!” satoru responds, excitedly leaning over to kiss you. he leans too hard because then he’s knocked you over, the two of you tangled up in the sheets and the confetti falling on your bed.

you sit up as megumi and tsumki climb onto the bed with you, tsumki pressing a wet kiss to your cheek while megumi tucks himself into your arm to give you a hug.

“how did you even do this while i was still in the room?”

satoru props himself up to pull one of the matching party hats onto your head and press a kiss to your forehead as he explains.

“you sleep like the walking dead, babe. we literally popped the confetti once before and it didn’t even wake you up.”

you take in the room in earnest this time, the three of them intently watching you. there are sparkly gold streamers hanging from the wall, a little handmade sign that has tsumiki and megumi written all over it taped to the wall, and a sweet little tray of your favorite breakfast on the side.

you turn to your left to find satoru looking at you, that stupid, stupid lovestruck grin on his face as he stares you down.

“you like it, babe?”

“satoru, you didn’t have to, i just-”

he clamps his hand over your mouth, feigning his best serious look.

“i held off for the other twenty four days of august babe. i had so much planned and i threw it all out for you. but you’re going to let me have this one day and do everything i say because it’s your birthday.”

“shouldn’t you listen to me because i’m the birthday girl?”

“i only accept that rule when the birthday girl isn’t being stupid.”

“hey, you just-”

“did you like it, y/n?”

you place one of your hands in megumi’s hair, who's still tucked into your side, as you crush satoru’s hand in your other hand.

“it really is sweet. thank you. i’ve never had anyone do something like this for me before.”

satoru gives you a satisfied smile as he leans forward, pressing another kiss to your face.

“get used to it. you’ve got like fifty more birthdays with me.” he responds, hopping off the bed as he sets the tray in front of you.

satoru wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to go all out. because after breakfast, he takes the three of you out on the town, to go bowling. which is something you were originally against, because in all honestly, you haven’t returned to an alley since your fifteenth birthday.

but he drags you in by the wrist and you have so much fun that you forget about the entire thing. satoru’s cheater ass runs down the alley when his ball went into the gutter, tsumiki spends the entire time looking for a pink bowling ball and can’t find one, and megumi gets way too excited about the all you can eat nachos that he accidentally ate too many and almost threw up.

the entire thing is so silly and so genuinely fun that you don’t think about sitting in the alley alone as a kid even once. you’re laughing too hard to even remember.

and when you get home, your entire apartment is decked out this time and all your friends are jumping out at you the second you walk in, pressing warm kisses to your cheek and wishing you a happy birthday.

of course he did a surprise party. satoru rents out a karaoke machine, makes them all play a game about who knew you best (nanami won, satoru was pissed), made you open gifts, and brought you a real cake with frosting and candles on it.

and the entire thing makes you so happy, you could cry.

you stand by the half eaten cake as everyone winds down in the foyer, stuck in their own conversations. and the entire day, the entire ordeal that satoru went to plan this makes your heart squelch as you watch it in front of you.

but there’s some part of you. thirteen, fifteen, nineteen year old you that still sits in your head. that remembers that pitiful feeling of being alone on your birthday and convinces you that this is a one time thing.

that it’s the exception, not the rule. that your birthday is nothing to celebrate, still.

you feel a hand snake around your waist and a pair of lips on your neck as satoru wraps himself around you, his voice warm on your neck.

“did you enjoy today, birthday girl?”

“yeah. I love you, ‘toru. thank you.”

you lean to the side to press a kiss to his cheek, before you focus back in on megumi and nanami’s very intense chess game that’s going on.

“princess.”

“hm?”

“i know you. tell me what’s going on in that head. you wanted chocolate instead of red velvet, didn’t you?”

“well, when you put it like that-”

“red velvet and chocolate are the same. it’s just dyed a different color!”

you laugh as you turn around in his arms, knotting your knuckles together around his neck.

“no, satoru. you made it perfect and i loved every second.”

“then?”

“it’s just weird, love. i’m not sure how to explain.”

satoru leans down to put his hands around your waist and lift you up onto the counter. you’re both level height now, your face a few inches from him as you try your best to explain the block in your chest.

“i love that you did this for me, please don’t think i didn’t. but some part of me can’t help but feel less than right now.” you whisper, his eyes washing over in concern.

“less than what?”

“i just mean- this is the first time someone has done this for me and i-” you respond, your voice cracking as those hot tears fall out of your eyes.

he brings his hand up to your cheek, his touch warm.

“sweetheart. you know you deserve this right? big fancy birthday parties? breakfast in bed and handmade decorations and birthday cards?”

you can feel the tears pouring out of your eyes even harder at his words, his voice so soft that it makes every untouched wound in your mind hurt.

“i-i know everyone deserves it logically but it’s just been so many years and no-no one ever wanted to do it for me that i just-no one even cared and i still feel like they don’t-”

satoru brings his hands around your waist as he leans the majority of his frame into yours, his mouth hovering right by your ear. he’s whispering soft words into your ear as he tells you to calm down, his hands rubbing small circles into your back.

“y/n. your birthday is very special to me.”

you bring your hands up to your eyes as you wipe your tears away, pouting at him through the redness on your face.

“why’s that?”

“everyday, i’m grateful you were born. that you’re in my life, that you’re with me, that you’re in this world.”

he brings your knuckles up to his mouth as he presses a soft kiss, a beaming, warm smile on his face.

“the day you were born should always be celebrated. with this intensity, if not more. it’s another day that you, another year that you’re on this earth here with me. with us, living and breathing.”

he presses a kiss to your cheek before whispering the final words in your ear, that shatter your resolve completely.

“what is there not to celebrate, sweetheart? it’s just another year i got to spend with you. another year i get to watch you push on past what bothers you, to stay soft when everything around you is hard. another year you keep fighting. that is always, always something to celebrate.”

you wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his hug, the hold so tight that you can physically feel the pressure in your chest. you must have stirred up some commotion with your crying because they’re all standing at your side now, irritated looks on all of their faces.

“you made her cry, asshole.” shoko says, rolling her eyes at him.

“you give us a whole lecture about how this day needs to be treated like a national holiday and then your dumbass made her cry?” suguru says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you pull away from your hug, laughing at their insistence as satoru starts defending himself, and you can’t help but feel it.

excited for your birthday next year.

because you know satoru and you know he’s already planning out the ten miles for y/n month for the next year.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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that-sarcastic-writer · 2 years

Text

A Good Man (Dean Winchester)

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Wife!Reader

Summary: Dean never wanted kids. Until he married you, and now he's changed his mind.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it children, you don't want kids) p in v, brief fingering, creampie, breeding kink, bit of dirty talk, established relationship, cursing.

WC: 3.4k I'm sorry

A/N: Idk what has gotten into me lately, but it's just filth all up in this head. Just one thought, dean and kids. That's it. He wouldve been a great dad if the writers didnt hate him, fight me. If this flops I'll cry myself to sleep. Kay enjoy the not soldier boy filth

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Dean never wanted kids. Not really. How could he? He could never be selfish enough to bring a child into his life. His way of life wasn't the life any child deserved. He knew he didn't. But he didn't know if he could ever give up hunting, it was all he had ever known. All he was raised to do. And deep down, that's exactly what he didn't want, he didn't want to be the father he had, and in so many ways he and John were alike. So he promised himself he would never bring a child into this world, into his life.

And then he met you.

The sweetest girl he had ever met. You were the prettiest, too. The second he laid eyes on you when you served him at a local dinner in Lebanon, he knew you were something else. And the minute you flashed him a smile, he was done for. He wanted you. And good thing you wanted him too.

Dean never thought he would want to marry anyone, settling down, going to bed and waking up next to the same person for the rest of his life, he never thought he would have any of those things. But then, he fell in love with you. And much to his relief, you loved him too, exactly the way he was, hunting and all. Though that was a conversation that took weeks of processing before you were fully on board, but you moved past it. You would even, at times help them, or more like Sam, research. Hunting was a big part of who Dean was, it was his life, and you wanted to be part of it. How he was ever lucky enough to deserve someone like you he didn't know. Sometimes he wondered if he had died and had gone to heaven, you being a vision of the bliss and happiness he so desperately wanted. But no, he was alive and you were real.

So he married you.

Kids were never in the equation though. It was brought up here and there, the possibility, the fantasy, the what if, but you both figured it wasn't right. Dean thought it would be for the best, he would just ruin their life like his father ruined his and Sam's.

Until your sister gave birth to a baby girl.

Dean wasn't in the picture when your nephews had been born, they were in elementary school now. But when your sister got pregnant again, right around the time you and Dean got married, you were thrilled. You loved your nephews, and you were going to love having a niece now. You had shared your excitement with him, but he didn't see the hype. What was so exciting about a crying red-faced shit dispenser? But alas, he at least tried to share your excitement.

Until he actually saw you with the newborn in your arms.

Dean had driven you a few states over to your sister's, so you could help out with the boys while she got settled back home that weekend. He wasn't around much, he felt out of place and like he was intruding, he had only met your family a handful of times after all. But on the last night you stayed at your sister's, he found you in the nursery, the red-faced baby peacefully cradled in your arms. He was speechless. He had never seen you with a baby before. The way you held her with care and gentleness, the way you said loving words to her, the way you smiled at her. It was like his heart had stopped and he was frozen in place.

You heard the floorboards creak behind you and you turned around. You saw, Dean, standing by the door, face pale as a ghost. You raised a concerned eyebrow at him.

"You okay Dean? What are you doing just standing there?" You asked him softly, as not to disturb the almost sleeping newborn in your arms. Dean blinked twice, swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah I'm.. I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a nervous smile and half pointed at you, "I was just watching you. Not— Not watching like that, just y'know—"

"Oh jesus. Just come here, would you?" You giggled at his nervous rambling and nudged him in your direction. He looked at you with apprehension, but nodded regardless. He walked towards you and stood behind you. He was at least a head taller than you, so he could easily stand behind you and look over your shoulder. And his heart definitely stopped then.

"She's the cutest little thing isn't she?" You said to him, smiling at her as you rocked her in your arms.

Dean let out a long breath as his eyes landed on the tiny being in your arms, "Yeah she uh, she's somethin'." He met her eyes and he only smiled awkwardly. She giggled and lifted her tiny arms.

You laughed softly when she did and looked over your shoulder at him with a smile, "Baby, I think she likes you." You said to him when she kept her arms lifted and even fisted her tiny hands in his direction. "I think she wants you to hold her."

"Wha-what?"

You turned around to face him and his eyes were wide and his eyebrows were knitted into a nervous and confused expression. He was cute, sometimes he melted your heart without even trying.

"Do you know how to hold a baby?"

"Yeah but—"

"Okay then hold her. I'm right here, you'll be fine, she won't like, gauge your eyes out or anything." You reassured him, teasing him a bit. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at your comment.

"Hilarious." He rolled his eyes. He wanted to say no, but there was something about you, holding the little girl that made his stomach twist and turn. He couldn't even describe the feeling, but he knew he liked it. "Fine."

Dean tensed up the second he had the newborn in his arms. He didn't know if he was holding her too tight, if her head was supported enough, if he was holding her steady enough. He looked at you with panic for a second, but when the little girl reached out her tiny arms and her tiny fingers touched his jaw, he felt like his heart stopped. He looked down at her, his eyes finding her big ones and his face softened. And he smiled, he actually smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean couldn't take his mind off it. You with a tiny being in your arms. He thought about what it would be like to see your belly grow with his child, to see you hold a baby with his eyes and your nose. He thought about doing all the things his father never did with him. He thought about being a better father.

The entire ride back home, Dean was absent, he said very little and you knew something was on his mind. You knew he could get lost in his own head and it'd be damn near impossible to get him to talk about it. You hoped he would eventually. Though you had the feeling neither of you were in much mood to talk. It was late, Dean was probably tired from hours of driving and you were exhausted from days of babysitting, though you loved spending time with your nephews and niece, you were exhausted. So whatever was on Dean's mind, you could wait until morning to try and beat it out of him.

You were already in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness when Dean walked in the room. He had been gone a little while, probably talking to Sam about how much he hated being at your sister's. He turned the light on when he walked in, but he immediately cursed to himself when he saw you on your side of the bed, deep under the covers. You lifted your head, looking around the room a bit confused until you found him.

"Sorry sweetheart, didn't know you were in bed already." He flashed you an apologetic smile as he undressed himself, only leaving his boxers and plain black t-shirt on before he turned the light back off and joined you in bed.

"It's okay," You mumbled, happily sighing when he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled your back to his chest. "You know I have a hard time sleeping without you anyway."

He nodded and pressed a kiss to the back of your head. He laid there, his nose brushing against your neck, happily taking in your scent as his fingers unconsciously rubbed circles over your flat stomach. He didn't know what the fuck was going through his head. But he just couldn't get rid of that image of you with your niece in your arms, how peaceful and happy you looked. Maybe you did want it, a family, and he was being selfish by not allowing you to have that because of his insecurities and past trauma. It terrified him, the idea of messing up like his father did, the idea of being just like his father.

But maybe, maybe he was a better man than John Winchester. Maybe with such a sweet and gentle wife by his side, he had grown softer. He could be better.

"Hey baby," He mumbled against your neck. You half opened your eyes, not quite asleep yet and you hummed at him, letting him know you were listening. "Are you still on the pill?"

You opened your eyes fully at his question. Confused, you rolled over on your back and looked at him, "Uh yeah, why?"

"Have you thought about, you know, not taking it anymore?" He asked, clearing his throat a bit as his fingers stilled their patterns on your stomach. You looked at him even more confused.

"Unless you want to try abstinence, or you're missing wearing a condom, no, I haven't thought about it." You answered with furrowed brows as you looked at him in the darkness, trying to read his face. "Dean, why are you asking me this?"

"Do you want kids?" He blurted out, not being able to control his rambling thoughts. He could've been more subtle. He sighed and continued, "I mean, would you ever want to have kids.. With me?"

"I uh.. I mean, yeah at some point I thought about us having kids but," You paused, running your fingers up his arm reassuringly, sensing he was on edge and nervous. "I thought you didn't want kids."

"I didn't. Not before," He sighed, his hand sneaking under your shirt to lay on your flat stomach, his wedding band feeling cold on your skin. "I honestly thought I'd be a shitty dad. I'm all kinds of fucked up. My life is a mess and I thought I'd be cruel to bring a kid into this life, raise 'em the way I was raised."

"Dean, you're not fucked up, your life isn't exactly normal but, that doesn't mean your life is a mess. You're an amazing husband, I'm happy to be living the life I'm living with you. And you already are a good dad," You told him, your hand coming to run through his short hair. He frowned at you, like he didn't know what you meant, so you continued. "Who do you think raised Sam? Who do you think raised him to be the good man that he is? You did, you took care of him when you were just a kid, you taught him everything he knows, and he turned out well didn't he? You're a good man Dean, wouldn't that make you a good dad?"

"God I love you." He sighed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he leaned down, capturing your lips into a kiss.

His hand lingered on your stomach, blunt nails scratching the skin even so slightly as his mouth covered yours. His lips were soft at first, but when he shifted so that he was hovering above you, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, taking as much as he could until you were pulling back for air. In the process, his hand had lingered further down your stomach, until his hand was slipping into your sleeping shorts. You gasped softly, feeling his middle finger brush over your clit.

"You know it's probably not gonna work if we try tonight, right?" You asked, your voice breaking when you felt one of his fingers rub small circles on your clit.

"No, I know. But there's nothing wrong with a bit of practice." His pink lips twisted into a small smirk as he dug his teeth into his bottom lip before he dived into your neck.

His lips ravished your pressure point, sucking and slightly digging his teeth until he felt a pool of wetness coat his fingers. His lips curved upwards and he moved downwards, leaving a trail of wet kisses until he found the hem of your shorts. He pulled back, pulling his hand with him. You squirmed slightly under him, face warm when his green eyes found yours just as he pulled your shorts down your legs. He shot you a wink before his face was between your legs. You gasped softly when you felt his warm breath fan against your core, but he pressed his lips to your inner thigh instead and squeezed the other between his fingers.

“Dean,” You exhaled heavily, trying to fight the urge to just push his head where you wanted him. He looked up, a playful glint in his eyes and his lips were curved into an equally playful smirk.

“Yeah I know baby.” He started to move up, hearing the urgency in your voice. He pressed his lips to your hip bone and trailed up. Though his lips lingered particularly long when he found your stomach, the idea of your belly growing with his child making his cock strain against his boxers.

Your fingers found his short hair and you pulled him up, crashing your lips against his with fervor. He settled between your parted thighs, you could already feel him against you, he wanted this as much as you did, hell maybe more. He pulled his shirt over his head before he kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and he tugged his boxers down his hips, his cock springing against his stomach. He held himself up on his forearm as he guided himself to your entrance. He groaned how wet you were, your slick walls taking him with ease.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath as he looked between you, watching himself disappeaar into your walls.

Dean didn’t waste much time. His hips found a pace, and he found it quick. It was hard and it was deep. He made sure you felt every thrust he gave you, every time he drew his hips back only to slam back in. But he wasn’t just fucking you, no. He was making love to you. He had a reason to. And fuck did he have a reason. He was fucking with you with purpose. And now that you were feeling it too, you were just as insatiable as he was. At some point, you weren't even quite sure when, Dean slipped your sleeping shirt off, which really was just one of his old t-shirts. For some reason, that habit of yours only got him off. The idea of you, his pretty wife, in his clothes. Fuck he often wondered when he ever got so lucky or if he even deserved it.

He pulled back a little, jaw slightly hanging open as he ran a hand over your breast, kneading one between his fingers. And then he was leaning down. His mouth found one of your breasts, the nipple already hard as a rock, and he suckled, giving the bud attention until it was red and puffy. And then he switched to the other. They would get bigger and plump with substance for his child, he thought. And maybe you realized that too, because as your body arched under his, your hand came up to cup his head, fingers threading through his hair.

“Fuck, Dean please, please don’t stop.” You trembled, your voice breaking as a broken moan left your lips. He could hear the desperation in your voice, that aching need for release, he knew you better than he knew himself.

“Come on, let me see it, let me see you fall apart,” He coaxed as he pulled back, hiking one of your legs high on his torso. He buried himself so deep it made your eyes roll into the back of your head when he brushed over your most sensitive spot. And he did it, again, and again. Until you were crying out. But what really sent you over the edge was his thumb brushing over your clit. He rubbed quick circles over the sensitive bud until your walls gripped him so tight it made his eye roll back. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s my girl.”

He held you as you trembled, his hips slightly faltering and his thrusts became a bit erratic as he chased his own release.

“Gonna fill you up,” He groaned in your ear, your juices allowing him to bury himself just a fraction into you. You held him, arms thrown over his neck and his name leaving your lips like a faint praise. Though you were still a bit hazy, you felt him press a hand to your stomach, cold wedding band sending slight chills down your spine. “Right here.”

You were trembling under his, thoughts barely coherent, but you breathed out, “Yes, please.”

Your lips found his jaw and your fingers pulled his hair so hard it made him groan. And suddenly he was still, buried deep inside you as pleasure overtook him. He spilled himself inside you with a groan, the muscles in his back tensing as his head fell over your neck. He sat still inside you, his pants and your own mixing in the air. He had come inside you many times before, hell, he didn’t remember the last time he didn’t, but fuck, this felt different. It felt so goddamn right, the idea of what this meant of it felt right.

Dean moved eventually, probably when his arm got tired of holding his weight. He pressed a wet kiss to your lips before he slipped out of you, the loss of him making you hiss softly when you felt your mixed juices drip down your thigh. Though you expected him to lay down beside you but he moved down instead, and you gasped in surprise when you felt his lips on your stomach. And he pressed his forehead against your belly, his ringed hand rubbing your side gently. You felt him sigh, and you heard him mutter something you couldn’t quite make out. He kissed your belly again, for a bit longer before he was on feet, telling you he would be right back as he tugged his boxers back on.

You were too tired to question him, you were fucked out and sleepy, so you simply nodded. You didn’t realize you had closed your eyes until you heard Dean say your name and you felt his hand on your face. You opened your eyes, squinting slightly as you looked at him. He had a wet rag on his hand, so you let him clean you up. He was silent the whole time, not a single sound came from him. And his expression was unreadable. You sometimes wished you could see what was on his man's mind. Even after being married and him opening up to you about a lot of things, the man was still impenetrable.

He found his spot beside you eventually, the room dark as you settled on his chest. He threw an arm around you and held you while his other arm was behind his head. You shifted, head tilted back and you brought a hand to his face, palm flat on his cheek as you planted a soft kiss to his lips. He hummed.

“You’re a good man Dean.” You said softly, catching the adoring look in his eyes, even in the darkest they were still bright. “And you’re a good husband, and there’s no one else I would rather have kids with some day.”

A smile tugged at his lips, “Some day? That means we gotta keep tryin’ right?”

You could hear the insinuation in his tone, and you could see the suggestive smile on his lips, even in the darkness, “Yes, yes we do.”

“Awesome.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester x female!reader

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thehighladywrites · 7 months

Text

Beneath their smiles

ft. Rhysand

SUMMARY: You find out your friends used you for status, leaving you heartbroken. Rhysand is here for you<3

warnings: swearing, hurt, comfort,fluff, shitty friends, nice revenge.

A/N: Kind of a personal one for me, I used to have shitty friends like this so this was really satisfying to write😋

banners: @cafekitsune

There was nothing in the world that Rhys hated more than seeing you upset.

What could have possibly made his sweet darling this upset? You were sitting in his lap, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He had one hand supporting your back while the other was drawing soothing circles. You were crying your eyes out, hiccuping, not even managing to talk properly between sobs when he asked what had happened to you.

You sat there for hours, listening to him whisper calming words of love and support. Finally, you looked up to him and the sight broke his heart.

After your crying session, your eyes were bloodshot, puffy, and swollen. Dried tear streaks ran down your face, making you look utterly drained, vulnerable, and sad. His protective instincts upon seeing his mate in such a vulnerable state were going crazy. It made him start making plans to confront whatever or whoever had made his mate cry so much. But Rhysand didn’t push you to speak if you weren’t ready. He knew you’d tell them whenever you were.

You took a steadying breath and spilled everything that had happened before your eyes started to blur again.

"Rhysie, I had the most horrible day ever. My friends completely cut me off for no good reason. They all made secret plans to catch up, and I saw them in front of me, laughing and huddled together. I so so badly wanted to go up to them, but when I got closer, I overheard them say that they weren't going to include me in their plans. They also whispered that I was a burden to you, and that a low-born nobody like me was only useful when getting invited to balls and parties – that our friendship was just a charade for their own amusement. They'd pretended to be my friends, but in reality, I was nothing more than a pawn in their game of social climbing. So, it turns out they were never truly friends; they were just using me for access to the stupid parties they craved. I feel so foolish,Rhys. They always chattered about parties and festivals, but I thought they enjoyed my company. “

He kissed your temple and let you silently cry on his shoulder again. He masked any anger he had, because it wasn’t about his revenge now, it was about comforting you.

“Oh, my sweet darling, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You deserve real friends who appreciate you for who you are, not just for the parties you can provide. You’re such a kind and wonderful person, and this experience with those vermins doesn’t define your worth at all. We’ll get through this together, my love. I promise you’ll find new, genuine friends who will value you for the amazing person you are, and who will see your kind heart and genuine soul. Remember that I’m always here for you, and I love you so much, okay? If you want to, we can banish them.”

You give him a tired smile and let out a sigh of comfort at the feel of love he sends through the bond. He gives you a sweet, loving kiss as he carries you to bed, tucking you to lay with one arm on his chest as you tucked your face in the crook of his neck. He had an arm protectively slung around your waist, keeping you as close as possible.

” Thanks Rhysie, m’so happy to have you forever. I love you s’much. But that’s not necessary, I have something better in mind. “

“ Of course darling, I love you too, can’t wait to hear about this diabolical plan my baby has planned. “

You let out a genuine laugh, and he gives you a last kiss before he pulls you closer. He runs his hands through your hair, as he always does whenever you’re upset, lulling you to a comforting sleep.

- - -

The night was beautiful, millions of starts decorated the dark sky, and the music filled the air. You and Rhysand were hosting an exquisite starfall party in your home. It was a celebration that enhanced the beauty of Velaris. A perfect night for some payback.

As the guests were flown up to The House of Wind, elegant guests in shimmering attire began to mingle with eachother. Among them was all of your friends and family from other courts, like Helion, Kallias and Vivienne, Thesan, Tarquin and so many more joined to celebrate.

Suddenly, at the edge of the entrance, your oblivious friends huddled together ready to dance the night away. Their faces masked with false smiles and ill intentions. They attempted to join the festivities, whispering and snickering, oblivious to the icy glares they received from your inner circle who knew of their betrayal.

However, the sentries, loyal to Rhysand, stood firm. As your friends approached, the guards blocked their path, not allowing them a step further.

"Sorry, but you can't enter," Declan, one of the sentries declared, his voice carrying authority.

Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their arrogance suddenly shattered by reality. They had always been invites to the High Lords party, what the hell was going on?

"What do you mean?" one of them demanded, her voice tinged with false innocence. "We were invited."

The sentry raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. " We have specific orders to not let you in. In fact if you don’t move, I’ll throw all of you in a holding cell for the night. Move along. ”

Seeing the High Lord's sentinel not wavering their stance, the mean friends grew flustered. They attempted to argue, to demand, to manipulate. But Velaris, under the rule of Rhysand, had no place for those who betrayed and used others for personal gain. Especially not his perfect mate. No, they weren’t ever going to hurt you again.

” I think there has been a mistake. Do you know how we are? We’re friends with the Lady of night, and we’re always invited. So let us speak to Y/N she’ll know who we are. ”

Tired of seeing their pathetic attempts, you drag Rhysand over to them to resolve the situation. But before you can say anything, Rhysand speaks up as he looks at them with disgust and wrath.

"Your actions towards my mate and your Lady are disgraceful. It's clear you've treated her with cruelty and deceit. You've shown a complete lack of respect and compassion. In my city, I value loyalty and kindness, qualities you so clearly lack. Know that I won't tolerate any more harm coming her way, because if any of harrass my mate again, I’ll see to it that it’s the last thing you do.

You’ve been asked to leave once, and you won’t be asked again. This is a night of celebration and unity, not a place for your pathetic attempt at deception. Your presence here is unwelcome, and I will not tolerate any disruption. It’s in your best interest to leave now, before Declan makes good on his word. ”

You look to him with a small smile and say into his mind,

” Thank you honey, I don’t know if I would’ve had the strenght to say all that. I love you so much. ”

” I love you too, but don’t thank me darling, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. ”

Defeated and stunned your now former friends were left with no choice but to retreat, their faces flushed with embarrassment and anger as they slinked away from the entrance, watched by the crowd.

Observing the whole scene you both couldn't help but smile as he tightened his hold on you. He had protected his mate and ensured that the party remained a celebration of true friendships, leaving no room for something other than that.

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #acotar

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vigilskeep · 19 days

Note

I'm curious what you don't like about dao Leliana? If you've got any posts about it could you please point me in their direction?

i probably have posts somewhere but god knows where they are now. i will present a little overview

and to be clear, because i know this website, this is completely a matter of personal taste in writing and character, i am not, um, cancelling leliana dragonage or having anything but appreciation for those who like her, i am saying i probably wouldn’t want to hang out with her. i am also not attempting to convince anyone or justify anything, i am explaining my own feelings since i have been asked about them. i am going to use language that sounds a little overly harsh because i am trying to express those feelings succinctly without making this post very long by apologising and minimising with caveats about when i do like her

i find her a little grating. i find her characterisation based on her backstory irritatingly inconsistent, with genuinely confusing naivete for someone with a supposedly hardened backstory. she’s a literal bard, and she’s always always on the back foot in dialogue with quicker thinkers who can easily shock and scandalise her, and she believes horrors are too ugly for anyone to write about (literal bard!). i’m also vaguely baffled by the amalgamation of vibes they went for visually, like, idk for example, repeatedly mentioning the supposedly ragged boyish hair of someone incapable of understanding a lack of interest in high fashion and who expresses friendship by talking about nice shoes and hair specifically. it makes me struggle to buy into her as a character, and i find her hard to picture.

i think her compassion for others rings fairly false, possibly just on a poor voice acting level; if they wanted me to believe in it from listening to her dialogue when she chimes in during side quests, they got it wrong, i don’t. those bland comments, as cloying on the tongue as artificial sweetener instead of real sugar, are a let-down when i could have someone more entertaining in the party. i hear her talk and think: i wish i’d brought someone else. and her kindness is often shallow, buying into prejudice easily when left unchecked. which is again, weird for a character whose entire concept is being more worldly than she appears. part of that backstory is also definitely growing up mostly surrounded by elven servants, which makes those biases in that direction even more notable to me than they otherwise would be. she’s someone who’s absorbed in her own internal struggle yet who has never noticed the struggles of those around her until directly confronted. i am constantly disappointed by the missed opportunities with her character, like her mixed cultural identity barely being discussed in a game where the backdrop of the ferelden-orlais conflict being under-explored is to me one of really very few big storytelling mistakes, or like her mechanic where you can ask her about wherever you are—a really fun idea, for a bard!—and she literally never not once has anything interesting to say. like, come onnn. im the worldbuilding enjoyer. hit me with something

some of this is going to be affected also by me having spent the most time with her as my surana, who happens as a character to be a natural born hater, and also predisposed to share some of these feelings. i do find dao leliana much more fun to hang out with when playing a non-elven, non-mage character, but given the in-world context, that in itself is perhaps not a glowing recommendation? (obligatory note again, i am not up in arms that this fictional character has fictional prejudices against fictional people and i in fact think this part is good writing that suits the world. the version of her i adore is, after all, in dai when she has done significantly more wrongs including against elves and mages specifically.) it’s more that kindness should be what leliana has going for her as one of the most prominently good-aligned companions, and i don’t believe in hers. if i’m committing to this being me disliking the character rather than disliking some writing flaw, i could say that i read her compassion as a performance, and that’s something i happen to never really like in a person or character: when they act because they want to look like a good person, and feel like a good person, rather than because they truly care about the impact of their actions. maybe i don’t prefer her in dai because she’s somehow better written; maybe she just drops that mask i don’t care for. hard to say!

also her personal quest has some of the worst writing and acting in the game i never want to hear marjolaine again. please.

#and now for a childish addition: also i cant believe i get leliana and maric gets katriel. i shouldve had katriel #i wouldve treated her right.#leliana enjoyers please dont hate me for this i love your work. i love that you love your girl shes just not for me #top ten posts i am going to regret in the morning. hits that post button

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divinehedons · 1 year

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peaches.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.1k words

Summary: You're Joel's slice of paradise. And he's not so keen on sharing.

Warning: explicit content ahead, minors do NOT interact. porn with a little plot, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), explicit p in v sex, cockwarming (if you squint), possessive!Joel, submissive!reader, joel needs a hug (or some fucking, who knows), time is a continuum and canon is fluid, established relationship, sexism (not by joel), graphic depiction of violence, death, proceed with caution!

A/N: This is a first fic so be kind, be kind, be kind!

reblogs and comments much appreciated; requests are welcome!

All there was at the end of the world was time. Oceans of it, stretched out, endless, all encompassing, so much of it that Joel mostly feels it as the tightening of his chest. As if he lies in wait. As if by standing still, he could stop feeling so cornered. At some point, perhaps weeks after Sarah's death, the world had begun to feel like something that happened to him than something that he was moving in. The clocks stopped. The world moved on.

He just didn't know it would go on without him.

Solitude follows shortly thereafter, walking hand-in-hand with the unbearable weight of his grief. The void grows in the darkness. He was no stranger to insomnia; and there were nights where he woke heaving, feeling that primordial chaos grow, borne from the very cracks of his being.

Perhaps that was what made the discovery of paradise so much more sweeter. And paradise came, as he remembered it, with the sweetest doe eyes he ever did see.

The same doe eyes that looked to him now, pleading, begging, pulling him close to the unmade bed he had just risen from a few minutes ago. "Tommy'll be looking for me, darlin'," he had reasoned, only to surrender to the sweet sound of your whimper as you catch his lip in a sleepy kiss, as if asking him to take you completely from the realm of sleep that tried to pry you from him in the early hours of the morning.

"It's barely light out," you murmur, leaning into the caresses his callused hands pressed against the softness of your cheek. "Stay for a little."

He chuckles, watching the way your soft eyes travel over his features. Memorizing him in a way that reminded him how it felt to be so human. "I think you want me to stay forever, peach."

He likes imagining, sometimes. When the mornings are quiet, somewhere between the siren call of sleep and the irresistible taste of your cunt. He likes imagining that time, that which once had felt so empty and all-encompassing, slowly shrinking until all he could see was you, so tangible and within reach. Alive, soft with the breath of the living. So close that he just had to taste.

You had often woken with his tongue devouring your folds, moans subdued and oh-so-maddening. One look at your face was enough to nearly send him past the edges of his limits, hard cock wet and straining to immortalize you in that state of bliss for all eternity. It was where the nickname came. So easily, so languid. Something transcendant and yet all too natural.

"You're just sweeter than peaches, aren't you, sweetheart?" he had grumbled as his lips wrapped itself around your needy little clit, the sudden motion leading to the softest cry that made his knees buckle. His large hands would affix your legs more firmly over his shoulders. Then his left arm pinned down your grinding hips, all while two fingers from his right hand sank so easily between those weeping folds he'd gladly lay his life down for for if it meant having this. Always.

"Oh, fuck, Joel-" you weep, tugging on his hair so needily as your body arches to try and capture the peak of his movements. "Oh, please... pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

He'd raise his head, devil that he is, wetness coating his beard in a way that almost made you pull him close and kiss him, desperate to taste yourself on his tongue. "Use your words properly, sweet girl..."

He likes to pretend, too. Pretend that he doesn't care so much; that the thought of losing his one last tether to sanity doesn't drive him to fits of boiling hot rage. He'd pretend there weren't nights where he simply lay awake with your head on his chest, the soft lull of your breast reminding him you're alright. So he takes. He takes and takes and takes. He is insatiable. You are divine.

"Want to cum, sir, please-" A growl escapes him, sinking back between your legs to savour the sweetness that seeps like ichor for the gods. And if this was heaven, he'd never want to be parted from that fount of sustenance. Even when he's bursting full. There is never too much when it comes to you. His soaked fingers reach up so easily, welcomed by your warm lips as you suckled on the fruit of your own desire.

For a moment, he wonders if this was what Adam witnessed in the garden of Eden. Was this the very same temptation that forever damned humanity? If it was, he muses as he lets you finish, then he'd gladly set the world on fire in worship of you and only you.

"Give it t'me, peach. s'alright," he whispers, cradling your hips as you trembled in his arms, completely consumed in the ferocity of the riptide, emanated by the sweetest cry between your parted lips. The gush of your release eases him into his own bliss, the worries of their post-apocalyptic clarity melting away in the haze of watching each and every reaction coaxing your features.

He blinks, and he is taken back to your lips, the early dawn, his brother waiting at the edges of paradise. Reality slips between the cracks, and he sighs, gently laying you back amongst the tumbled sheets.

"You seein' a movie later?" he asks, to which you smiled, nodding shyly as you attempted to raise yourself again.

"Mhm. But Maria needed help with something, so that goes first." You palm at his scruffy beard, leaning up to place a trail of kisses against his covered cheek.

"Go back to sleep, hm?" You groan, and he chuckles at his stubborn girl. "Y'need the rest." He slowly departs from you, as if by being pressed against your skin for a few moments more meant keeping the scent of your skin close to him for longer.

"Like you don't, old man," you'd mumble, rolling over and letting sleep take you again. "You'll come home, yes?"

It freezes him. It makes his heart ache. He hears the hesitation, the worry, the things you had always tried to hide to make things feel a little more normal. He swallows, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Always, peaches."

The silence enraptures everything beyond the hubbub and safety of Jackson. It was routine, it was repetitive. Sometimes people would let their guards down. Never him, though.

New recruits huddled together, waiting to be paired, to be picked, to be chosen. As if they couldn't wait to feel the chilling presence of death in the form of a gun. The possibility of violence, child's play that didn't know any better; didn't know what others had to lose from the battlefield just for them to be desperate to jump right into it.

Joel keeps his good ear to the group, picking out artillery with the precision of someone who had been to too many battles. In the mumblings, he catches out a voice.

"What about that pretty thing that likes movies?" He hears your name and traces it back to the face that dared speak of you. "She'd probably look pretty on her knees. I bet she could-"

"Who's the kid?" Joel mumbles, head snapping to see his brother.

"Christopher. He's with me."

The blood pumps in his ears. The thought of those thoughts, ones that only belonged to him, ones only he should be privy to, filling up someone else's brain... "'m taking him."

His sweet peach, glorious, eternal, divine. You didn't deserve this, do you?

He told you once that you'd drive him mad. You giggled, leaning over the dining room table to kiss him gently. "You're all soft," you teased, pinching his cheek before letting him go back to his work. He rarely admits to the things that haunted him. For so long, he had tried to hide it all from you- the blood on his hands, the violence that he had lived with, devoured like sticky fruit on a summer's day. The two of you do not speak of the nightmares that would wake him, only to settle at the feel of your kisses and the weight of your body on his.

He never believed in religion, and perhaps he would never again step foot in a cathedral. But one thing that felt right was confession. A word from you and he would come spilling, emptying his grief on a platter for the goddess to consume gloriously. He'd tell you of Sarah, of Tess, sometimes in a mess of hushed whispers. Fragments of incomplete sentences and the sweet scent of your skin as you held him.

One word from her and he had never felt so clean.

Perhaps madness was how he ended up here, looming over the same boy who had dared saying that about you. The onslaught of violence had remained blurry in his head. Now Christopher slumps against the nearest wall, face and flesh combined in a gruesome depiction of his rage. His heart thunders in his ears, and he lifts the boy's head by his hair.

"Hey, hey," he grumbled, gently patting his cheek. "Look at me. Christopher, isn't it?"

The kid sputters, coughs up blood as he nods. "Y-yes, sir. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Joel flicks his knife open trailing the blade to his thigh. "I don't know what you want, man!"

"You don't talk about women like that, kid." He watched those young eyes widen, pained cry escaping him as he sinks the blade into the meat of his thigh.

"Fuck, fuck!" The gritting of teeth, the taste of blood, the smell of it permeating the room. And beneath it all is the slowly trickling smell of fear. Joel looks, growling as he twists the knife harder, letting Christopher scream. "I didn't know she was yours, man. I'm sorry-"

"Not very bright are you, kid?"

The screams would echo in the room for hours. He could've killed him. Perhaps he should've. All because he had dared to look at her that way. His peach. All because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

When he enters Jackson, he sees you standing there, pacing, cheeks red, hands trembling. He swore he felt his heart skip at the sight of Maria trying to comfort you, assure you that he was alright. It was only when those soft doe eyes find him that you finally believed her. You're running, and all he could do is stand there, let you collapse in his arms as the tears finally escaped you.

"They said," you had whispered, tugging him by the lapels of his coat, "they said there was an encounter- someone died, and... and..." It is a few minutes before they had finally begun to walk home, with you tucked to his side as your tears dry with the wind.

Within the confines of the house, it is all too easy. All too natural to surrender to the needing kisses you had peppered against his jaw, hands tugging off the blood-specked coat that now seemed to weigh on his shoulders. His large hands pull you close by the cheeks, kissing you wantonly and with a low grumble. The drying blood on his hands smear the unblemished skin of your cheek, marking you with the evidence of his sacrifice. Looking to you, breathless and inevitably all the more in love, he tries not to lose it then and then.

There had always been something primal about loving you. Something about the way he seemed to lay everything at your feet, like a devoted man in the presence of worship. Something about the way your cheeks bear his sacrifice now, and the way you don't even notice, already whining for another kiss after he had stared for too long.

"I'm right here, peach. It's okay," he whispers softly, arms carrying you to the couch, kissing once, twice, a few more times before he moves to the crook of your neck. He hears the soft sniffles, feels the wetness of your tears. "Hey, hey..."

Your arms wrap around him in the same way they did in the morning before he left. You pretend sometimes, too. You pretend that the feeling of his heart beating against your cheek whenever you lay on his chest settles you instead of terrifying you. You pretend time wouldn't steal him away and silently thank empty air whenever he returns home from whatever battlefield he emerges from.

Desperately, he marks you with his lips, the pressure of broken capillaries telling you everything you needed to know. That he's safe. He's alright. He did fulfil his promise after all.

Are you like me? you had wanted to ask once, do you leave marks on everything you love, too? When he looks at you with those eyes, it is all too easy to wrap your legs around his waist and let him place you on his lap, calloused hands exploring your thighs as if grounding himself back to the reality of your warmth.

Do they always leave, Joel?

All you taste is the metallic flavor of iron on his lips, clothed core pressing and grinding against his hardening cock. You finally speak again.

"Never, ever terrify me like that again." He'd smirk, pushing back your hair to observe your face, committing it to memory as if it would be the last time he will have you like this.

"Alright, baby. Alright. Let me take care of you, now," he murmurs as he lifts you, arms tensing as he carried you to the bedroom, to the sheets you had fixed after he left. You looked just as divine sprawled on his bed, just as divine when he had stripped you into nothing but your underwear. He couldn't help but admire the lacy pair you had on, watching your face redden as he sinks into another kiss once more. "Did you wear all this for me?"

Your meek nod is all he need. All he required for a groan to reverberate against your skin. "Wanted to surprise you, sir." He kisses down the valley of your torso, admiring the way you had turned into putty in his hands. You moan out his name, gasping as that devious tongue of his traced the outline of your folds through your underwear. You feel him press against your entrance, sinking just enough to be felt but not enough to feel good. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, your voice driving him into shambles of desire.

"Fuck, Joel, don't tease," you'd almost beg, enough for him to smirk, shushing your desperate whines as he pulls you on his lap whilst he leans back.

"Alright, peach. Take what you want. S'all yours, isn't it?" You hum in agreement, leaning up to kiss him, leading his hands to your underwear and almost begging for him to take it off. He stares, a soft smirk on his features before his hands tear off the flimsy material that kept him from enjoying you.

"I'm all yours, Joel," you whisper, reaching for his pants and lowering it just enough to free him. His eagerness leaves you humming, moaning into the warm air of the bedroom. It was too much, you had been so good.

You'd give up forever just to have him like this.

You let his dripping cockhead catch where you're wet and dripping, eventually just sinking to the hilt. The stretch is glorious, it is otherworldly. He grips your hair and catches you in a desperate kiss as you slowly impale yourself on him. You moan. You whine, you tremble, and you practically sob.

"It's not like this with other people, is it?" you whisper, to which he growls and turns you over, legs thrown over his arms as he desperately ruts where you're perfect and absolutely divine. "Fuck, I'll always need you, Joel."

"I know-" he cuts you off, holding your face as you both fall into a heavenly rhythm. "Absolutely fuckin' perfect for me, peach..." He knows he had found that one spot that always drove you so wild when he hears that high squirm that escapes you. He presses more kisses and hickeys against his skin, as if reminding himself you're all his. Gently, he lets you suck on his bloodstained fingers, letting it quiet you as his thrusts intensify.

He wonders if you see just what you do to him. He wonders if you know that just the threat of someone else having you is enough to send him into blind and needy thrusts. He wonders if you know your touch is the only salve that takes away the rage bubbling under his skin.

It's a few moments more before he takes his fingers away, watching as you hold on to him, begging to let go, to slowly release.

"I'm all yours," you cry out against his shoulder, and he has to bite your skin to control himself. To let you go first. "Please let me, I need to- I'm so- so fucking close-"

He lays you back down, letting the fingers you had wet with your tongue reach down and rub your throbbing clit. "Look at me, peach. Come on, baby, show me those eyes of yours."

You look, doe-eyed, soft, and absolutely angelic in the face of debauchery that he literally growls.

"That's it. Give it to me, peach. Fuck, yes-" One word from him and you're letting go, eyes trained on him as your features contort into the most heavenly view he had seen. He feels you tighten, clench, and spasm against him that it pushes him just enough.

"That's such a good girl," he rasps, catching your lips in one more kiss as he spills between your folds, bodies pressed and coupled in an inseparable hug. The kiss dwindles as he presses his nose against your bloodstained cheek, breathing in the scent of your skin painted with his unannounced present. "That's it. Such a good, good girl, aren't you?"

You whine, moaning softly as you kissed what you can reach of him, heart racing as you basked in how gloriously full you felt. How gloriously loved. "I'm absolutely in love with you, Joel," you whisper, reddening as he kisses you again.

Joel Miller is a man of very few words. But you know you matter to him too. Just how much was another question entirely. It takes moments before he catches his breath. A few moments more before he's moving.

Another whine escapes you, and he peers down worriedly at your pouting features. "Stay," you whisper, pulling him until he lay his weight against your fragile, marked-up body. "Just like this, please."

He could have sworn he felt his cock twitch at the thought.

"Fuck, peaches," he mumbles, surrendering into your arms. "You might just be the death of me."

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #tlou #i am weak for beards okay #writing

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angelkhi · 1 year

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santa's little helper - j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you get more than you bargained for being santa’s little helper.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, some cursing, unprotected sex in an apocalypse (big dumb bitches), creampie (even bigger dumber bitches), pet names, age gap, low-key feral joel, a little bit of pining if you take off your glasses and squint. idk i’m writing this post crimbo dinner prep i’m tired.

word count: 2k

a little note: the logistics of when the breakout started and when the reader was born do not make sense but that is not my fault i'm not a scientist and i'm bad at math. anyways here's my singular christmas fic. to anyone that celebrates merry christmas, and to those who don't, have a lovely december 🫶🏾 (also not proofread i’m tired and it’s christmas)

Christmas is one of the few traditions kept alive in Jackson, with handmade paper decorations about the houses, small Christmas trees nursed to health with the help of Joel, children running around singing festive songs you'd missed for so many years. You felt truly alive for the first time in a long time.

Joel's smile is light, barely visible behind the beard curated from yarn, but you’re close enough to see his upturned lips. His eyes flick over your outfit, a green t-shirt turned dress, some striped tights and a stroke of damn near magic with long expired makeup transforming you into Santa’s little helper.

"Cute as a button." He mumbles. A steady stream of children enter the makeshift grotto and you don't get to enquire. Not that you would. Your whole body is ablaze with nervousness, Joel's comment striking deep, so deep in fact you probably could've foreign caking deep pink out of date blush to your cheeks. He’s one of the few good men left in this world, and his rugged looks are an added bonus, so it’s no wonder you keen for his approval.

The day goes off without a hitch, the smiles on the children's faces when they got to meet the Father Christmas, the endless amounts of crayon covered decorations each kid got to design, the supply of sugar cookies that dwindled far too quickly. You almost felt bad for the sugar rush their parents would have to deal with later on in the evening. But they wouldn’t care. It’s Christmas.

By the end of the night you’re beyond tired. A few stranglers help with some off he menial tidying, but you send them on their way, your morning plans of self indulgent cleaning spree at risk of being disrupted.

The town is quiet, but brightly lit when you lock the double doors, and you use the rare moment of peace and quiet to appreciate all that you’ve endured.

"Let me walk you home." You yelp quietly, the voice from the darkness unexpected. Though not unwelcome when you spy Joel's broad shoulder leaning against the old barn.

"You scared the shot out of me" You pause to catch your beating. He looks apologetic and for a moment you're worried you upset him "You don't have to do that."

"Walk you home or scare the shit out of you?" You chuckle.

"Not scaring the shit out of me would be nice, but you don’t have to walk me home Joel." In fact you can see your home from where you’re standing it’s so close.

"I know. I want to."

Joel fears that's about as close as hell get to a confession. He admired your normalcy in a world far beyond it. He admired you, albeit secretly.

The two of you walk in silence, until he’s walking up your porch stairs and you’re panicking about the once welcomed silence, filling it with an invitation into your home. He accepts with a quiet smile, taking in the festive lights and handcrafted decor.

You guide him through the small hallway into a tiny living room, filled with random trinkets and furniture that’s worse for wear. Its more homely than his humble abode, and it screams you, warm and inviting.

He leans back into the worn sofa, his legs spread. Even in the Santa Clause get up you're not sure how to place yourself. It's Joel Miller for heavens sakes. A part of him secretly enjoys your nervous energy as you hover in front of him, not sure what exactly to do with yourself.

"Here come sit." Joel pats the faded velour, "tell me what you want."

He suggested it without thinking, and of course you comply. You’d walk into a building full of infected if he asked. Something shifts when you find yourself in his lap, you wonder if he notices it too, the way the air in the room suddenly grew thicker filled with something you’re not sure you’d ever be brave enough to act on. Your palms grow clammy. Breathe.

Joel is dumbfounded at just how perfect you look in his lap. He’d keep you there forever if he could. His hands rest on your thighs, thumbs guiding a small driving small patterns into the striped tights. He dips his head low, trying to meet your downcast eyes.

“I want you Joel.” The admission has your cheeks tingling in slight embarrassment and an underlying fear of rejection.

"That's it sweet girl. Use your words and i'll give you anything you want."

Those hands slip beneath your dress, a wide palm cupping your warm cunt. He holds your gaze, watching and waiting.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“That so?” He hums, eyes raking over your almost innocent face, then down to where your hips meet his. Two fingers tap your thigh and a commanding ‘up’ is spoken. You raise your hips as he asks, you’d do anything he asked in that moment. Joel’s hands snake around the back of your thighs, pausing for a brief moment before gripping the scratchy tights and pulling with vigor. They split easily under the force, exposing you to him. He thumbs the edge of your panties for a moment, the small creases in his forehead deepening when he takes you in.

"Red lace? Where on earth did you get these?" His tone is light, punching through the heavy thickness in his throat and he tries to collect himself, just for a moment.

"I don't scavenge and tell Mr Miller." You chide playfully.

“Don't care where you got em from as long as I get to keep em."

"Then earn them." Joel smiles, not one to back down from a challenge, giving you a small and simple nod.

He’s so gentle when he places you on the sofa you’re lost for a moment, then he’s on his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs spreading you open. His thumb traces over the wet gusset of the almost transparent lace, a perfectly harsh pressure building when he rests on your clit. He doesn’t bother wasting time taking off the pretty underwear opting to pull them aside instead.

All of that sweetness, all of the hesitation flies out of the window when he finally catches a glimpse of you, so ready for him. Joel’s sharp tongue is sweeping against you in a bruising rhythm, nipping and sucking on your exposed clit. He’s impatient and determined, losing himself in how good you taste, showing no mercy when you grind yourself against him, gasping when your clit swipes against the soft bump of his nose. Your hands swipe through his salt and pepper waves, pulling him closer and he decides then that he’d happily die between your thighs. Your soft whimpers grow louder until they’re high pitched whines whilst you chase the orgasm he’s so desperate to give you.

“Fuck Joel.” Your fingers tighten around his soft hair, his rough fingers curling your weeping hole. All it takes is on hooked finger pressing up against that spot, one more soft drag of his tongue and you’re finished. Joel’s hips buck up at nothing when you cum on his face, making those pretty noises, hips clean off the couch cushions as you ride out your orgasm. But he doesn’t let up, fingers moving at a languid pace.

"Gimme one more. One more and i'll fuck your pretty cunt so good you'll feel me for days." Cocky bastard.

You’ve clearly lost all sense, because you nod like you have anything left to give.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’re thighs are practically shaking around his head, and you can barely keep your head on your shoulders. He looks so proud of himself when you find the energy to open your eyes. Like he could walk away untouched, your release giving him all the pleasure he needs.

He manoeuvres your pliant body back into his lap, hands cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

"I ain't gonna be sweet on ya." Lies. He's already more than sweet on you, half way to smitten and too much of a coward to confess. If he were one for making rash decisions he'd be on one knee begging you to marry him and making you cum on his face. Though he wouldn't need a rash decision for the latter.

"Don't want you to be soft on me Joel. Please." You grind your hips into his growing bulge, shuddering breaths drowning out your weak plea. You make quick work of pulling down the handmade red trousers, hesitating only for a moment when your fingers rest on the waistband of his boxer shorts.

Joel’s chest heaves a little when your soft hands grip him, dragging the shiny pink head of his cock against your wet cunt, slipping him into your sopping hole with ease.

“That’s it. Take what you need.” He rests a guiding hand on your hip, until your flush against him, taking him to the hilt.

“So good for me.” This man and his fucking mouth.

He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you and claiming you all at once. His lips are surprisingly soft, a heavy contrast to the way he’s gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. It’s not lost on you that he’s doing all the work but there’s not a single thought left in your head, just Joel and how he feels and sounds.

"Got you nice and full don't I?" You try to speak, honestly you do, but all that comes out is a pathetic whine. "Too fucked out to speak. Look at ya', so perfect all for me."

There is nothing that could pry you away from each other in that moment, your panting breaths, the slight tinge of sweat, burnt sugar and pine in the air. Joel's illicit grunts and your soft screams.

He finds some restraint and pauses, somehow placing you flat on your back, the soft couch cushions moulding around your body, worn out springs creaking beneath the weight of you both.

He cages you in, relishing as you practically melt into the worn leather sofa. His fingers hook under your knee, lifting your thigh higher, the small amount of strain forgotten when he sinks back into you hard and deep.

He takes almost as much as he gives, driving his hips in a harsh rhythm chasing his release, watching the way your body responds to him. Pretty lips parted, eyes closed so tight, pussy clenching around him. Nothing will ever feel this good. Joel thumbs at your clit once again, and he completely surrounds you. He’s so deep you can just about breathe, his deep grunts and guttural moans floating about your once boring living room.

He gives you your third orgasm of the evening, and you feel everything but nothing all at once. There’s nothing but him and you and the knowing that you’d never felt this good before and nothing would ever come close again. His thrusts are relentless, your wet cunt clenching around him sending him over that perfect ledge. Your name is the only thing on his lips when he cums so deep, you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. He’s completely still, muscles taught goading himself through his orgasm, the feeling nothing short of euphoric.

Joel’s hands find your face again, that softness ever present and he melts into your body, your lips.

“Honey you with me?" He asks after a short moment, his voice hoarse. You nod at first, but he’s looking for words, words you’re struggling to find with what little bit of energy you have left.

"I'm with you. Seeing fucking stars but i'm with you." Joel's shoulders grow less tense at your reassurance. He nods, calloused fingers exploring your cool skin all over again. You gasp in unison when he slips out of you, tucking himself into his boxers and pulling your panties back into place.

"So. Did I earn my keep?" The elastic twangs against your skin and the pair of you share a breathy laugh.

"Sure did. I'm all about giving, in the spirit of christmas of course." He smiles, more triumphant than cocky, though it morphs into a look of pure determination when you speak again.

"Did I mention I have them in black too?"

#smut #tlou smut #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller x reader smut #christmas fic

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