#but rein is gonna take care of him anyways

[august126]

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college.

You're pretty sure your feelings aren't reciprocated... until one night that changes everything.

Warnings:Age Difference,Joel is 49 and Reader is 24,Oral Sex,Car Sex,semi-public sex (sort of),Flirting,Masturbation, and Dirty Talk

Words:12,334

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared.

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“Y’know, while ‘m happy that you’re livin’ with me again, I’d appreciate it f’ya started tryin’ to find a job that put that fancy degree t’use.” You peer over the top of the book you’d been reading at your dad, who’s taking up a spot at the end of your pool chair. His arms are crossed over his navy work shirt, drenched in sweat from working all day in the roiling heat customary of a Texas summer, and he’s watching you expectantly for an answer. 

You set your book on your chest and sigh. It’s not that you aren’t thankful or don’t appreciate your dad allowing you to move back in with him after graduating from college a year ago. You fully understand how fortunate you are not to have to worry about paying rent; you’re also eternally grateful to your dad for hooking you up with a decent-paying job as a secretary at the contracting business his best friend owns. However, you were getting very, very tired of having this conversation. 

“And you know that I am lookin’, but it’s silly for me t’apply for an entry-level position at a firm that’s gonna pay me less than what ‘m makin’ now.” Your dad rolls his eyes and grumbles something snippy under his breath, his go-to combo when he doesn’t like that you’re right. You pin him with a pointed stare. “Care to repeat that?”

“Said maybe I oughta tell Joel to dock your pay then,” your dad states, but any lingering irritation in his tone dissipates by the time he’s finished speaking. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his slight frown turns into a small, teasing smile. 

“Somebody say my name?” Your gaze shifts from your dad to the sliding glass door behind him… or, rather, the man who opened it. 

Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college. Currently, Joel Miller is the tanned, broad, tall man striding leisurely through your backyard, navigating around your pool, and stopping beside your father. 

He slaps a hand on your dad’s shoulder in greeting and shoots you a bright grin as he coos, “Hey, lady.” Although Joel’s addressed you with the pet name for years, it never fails to cause an eruption of butterflies in your belly and a crimson blush to paint your cheeks.

“Hey, Joel,” you respond, trying to appear nonchalant even as you’re reining in your thundering heart and halting the pulse throbbing just south of your belly button. “Dad was jus’ sayin’ how he’s gonna ask ya to give me a pay cut.” Joel turns to your father, shaking his head.

“And risk losin’ my best employee? No can do, bud.” Even if he’s only joking, you preen at Joel’s praise. You cock an eyebrow at your dad, waiting for some sort of a comeback, but he only glares at you both before huffing. 

“I don’t like when the two of ya gang up on me.” You giggle, and Joel shoots you a lazy wink and a warm, victorious smile. “Anyway,” your dad turns his attention back to Joel, “you said reservation’s at 6:45?” 

“Uh-huh, so we oughta get our asses movin’,” Joel asserts, and your dad starts heading swiftly back toward your house. Joel’s eyes shift to you, still lounging on your purple pool chair, and he nudges your foot with the toe of his boot. “That means you too, lady.” 

“What’s the occasion?” 

“Sarah’s birthday,” Joel answers incredulously, and a lightbulb goes off in your head; that’s why you felt like you were forgettin’ something all day. “Please tell me ya didn’t forget my daughter’s birthday. Your friend’s birthday,” Joel teases, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

“ Of course I didn’t forget,” you lie, narrowing your eyes. Joel sees right through it.

“I bet. Now go get changed ‘fore ya make us late … unless you plan on wearin’ that to dinner.” The blush you just managed to school comes back in full force as he unabashedly rakes his eyes over your body, and only now do you realize how little the tiny black bikini you’re wearing covers. 

Joel’s pretty brown eyes, usually so teeming with emotion, are utterly unreadable as you stand from your chair and begin heading inside. As you pass him, you mumble, “Don’t see why you’re complainin’.”

“Didn’t think I was.” You stumble a bit, glancing over your shoulder to find Joel’s gaze slowly sweeping down your body. When his stare lands on your ass, practically bare save for the minuscule cover your bikini bottom provides, his attention snaps back to your face, an impish grin on his lips that makes your skin flush. 

“Fuck off, old man,” you reply cooly, flipping him off as you saunter inside; you can still feel Joel’s gaze on you as you ascend the stairs, and if that makes you sway your hips more than usual… well, who the fuck cares? 

Once you’ve entered your bedroom and stripped off your bathing suit to assemble an outfit for dinner, your mind drifts into a space you’ve grown all too familiar with over the last five years. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand how wrong your crush on Joel Miller was. Ignoring the fact that he’s been your dad’s best friend for years, he’s also over two decades your senior and has a daughter only a few years younger than you. It’s disgusting, really, that you have even the slightest hint of attraction toward the man. And yet…

You really can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re no longer a college student parading around under the guise of adulthood. No, you’re a woman now, a woman with autonomy who is perfectly capable of making her own choices. If one of those choices is fucking her dad’s best friend, well, then so be it.

Even as you tell yourself this for the thousandth time, the sentiment feels weak. Sure, the opportunity to fuck Joel Miller is perfectly viable, in theory. However, so many things would have to go right for a thing like that to happen, and you are a notoriously unlucky person; quite frankly, you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten lucky to the degree that you would need to for something like having sex with Joel to happen. 

For one, no one would ever be able to find out. Your dad, Sarah, any of your nosey neighbors. Not to mention that the logistical feat of such a thing would be tricky. Where would you guys meet up? Not your house, not his house, and anything public like a bar would be far too risky. No, it would have to be a one-off deal, and you’re not so sure you’d be able to stop at just a single taste of Joel.

And that’s all assumin’ he’d even want me, you think as you comb through your closet looking for a summer dress right for the occasion. Joel Miller had never, never shown a flicker of interest in you. That display by the pool, him ogling your ass in your skimpy bikini? That was just him keeping up the incessant string of banter that passed between the two of you. Sure, he was older than you, but that didn’t matter when it came to the way he treated you, as if you were his friend. 

Right, his friend. 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. This line of thinking was an absolute rabbit hole, forcing you down, down, down until there was a headache ebbing at your temples and your veins were licking with equal parts frustration and lust. 

Three quick knocks come on your door, and your head whips around at the sound, pulling you out of your Joel-induced stupor. “Hey, lady?”

Fuck. You stand in your closet, stunned into inaction like a deer in headlights as you realize the only thing separating you, butt-ass naked, and Joel is the mahogany of your closed bedroom door. 

“Just checkin’ to see ‘f you’re ready yet. Sarah jus’ texted, said her and what’s-his-face are waitin’ at the restaurant.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You off-handedly wonder why you haven’t just slipped a dress on over your head on the off chance Joel decides to swing open your door, and you realize with a sick sort of excitement that you wouldn’t entirely mind Joel walking into your room at this very moment. 

“Almost,” you call out, forcing your words to come out smooth as the image of Joel entering your room enters your mind unbidden; you imagine how his eyes would take in your naked form, how it’d take three short strides for him to reach you, how he might drop his head and lick one of your already hardened nipples into his warm, waiting mouth. You swallow thickly before calling out, “Just need another second s’all.” 

A dull throb begins at the apex of your thighs as you picture the man on the other side of the wall putting his rough, work-worn hands all over your soft, supple skin. You wonder what his calloused touch would feel like against your flesh, if his honeyed skin would grow rosy under the thorough ministrations of your wet tongue, if his eyes would grow dark and a deep groan would drip from his lips as you closed your mouth around his-

“Sweetheart? Y’alright in there?” You think you mumble an airy affirmation as you mindlessly trace your fingers along your collarbone, imagining that they’re longer, thicker, belonging to another individual entirely. Any semblance of rationality escapes you as your other hand creeps down the smooth skin of your belly, and you cup your sex with a groan you’re barely able to muffle. You’re so outside of yourself, caught up in the slow path your fingers are tracing along your body, that you don’t notice the doorknob begin to turn. 

Only when your door starts to lurch open do you fall back into your body from where you were floating a few seconds earlier. Your eyes blow wide, a strangled cry of surprise and horror falling from your mouth as you realize the precarious situation you’re about to be thrust into. “WAIT.”

The slow sway of your door opening halts immediately, and you let out a breath, spinning on your heel to face your closet. “I- ‘m jus’ comin’ in t’make sure you’re alright.” You hastily decide on a sage green strapless dress, something you can slip into quickly and inconspicuously, and rip the silk garment from its hanger. 

“Yeah, no, ‘m good, Joel. Great, I’m great, jus’… yeah, gimme a sec.” You throw the dress on, its hem falling to your mid-thigh as you grab a pair of strappy sandals from the bottom of your closet and slip one on, hopping into the other as you approach your door. 

“Y’sure, baby? Ya sound-” You slip your shoe on and grab the door handle in one movement, opening it fully to give you an unobstructed view of the man you’d just been on the verge of touching yourself to. Wouldn’t be the first time, you think to yourself unhelpfully. 

He’s looking down at you, concern and curiosity bubbling in his gaze, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “See? ‘m fine, all good. Jus’ needed a minute.” Joel’s eyes blaze a lackadaisical trail over your body, and you swear you can feel him cataloging each inch of bare skin you have on display. He reaches out, plucking one of the flimsy green spaghetti straps between his thick fingers before letting it go to snap back against your shoulder. You stifle a gasp, and he brushes the hair careening down your chest back over your shoulder. 

“This is pretty,” he says, voice low and velvety, and you can feel your pussy beginning to grow wet at his praise. He bends down until his mouth hovers just next to your ear, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him: musky cologne and citrusy body wash and something unidentifiable yet so undoubtedly Joel. “Did ya mean t’be wearin’ it backward?”

You look down at yourself, heat rising to your face when you realize that he’s right: you’ve managed to put your dress on the wrong way. You shove Joel’s shoulder, and he takes a step back, a smug grin painted on his lips that makes you roll your eyes. 

“You’re a dick, y’know that?” He chuckles at your dig, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

 “And you’re makin’ us late to this dinner. Now, can I trust ya to fix your dress yourself, or do ya need me to help?” He delivers it like a joke, and the logical part of your brain reminds you of that the moment your pulse begins to flutter. He’s just teasin’ you like he always does. 

However, the dark, hunger-tinged stare Joel is pinning you with doesn’t feel humorous. You swallow thickly, saliva pooling in your mouth and pinning your tongue to the roof. “I-” you stutter, words failing you as he continues dragging his eyes slowly over your flustered form. “You-”

“Spit it out, baby.” Baby. You turn the endearment over in your head a few times, testing the weight of it on your tongue. Finally, the corners of your lips pull up in a cheeky smile and your eyelids grow heavy as you gaze up into Joel’s face. 

“You askin’ to undress me, Miller?” And this doesn’t feel like your typical banter. No, this feels weighted, laced with something headier. Something full of innuendo and promises and an unquenchable appetite for… something. And then your dad’s voice is cutting harshly through the fog.

“Hey hon, I’ll be- oh, Joel, didn’t realize ya came up here.”

Joel doesn’t even spare your dad a glance, eyes still on you as he says, “Jus’ wanted to check and see if your slow-ass kid was ready t’go.” Your dad snorts, and you narrow your eyes at Joel before turning the withering look to your father. 

“Don’t laugh at that.” 

“Sorry, sweetie, but ya are kinda slow.” Joel’s smirk only grows, and you huff incredulously. Your dad, apparently oblivious to the bubble of tension he popped, continues. “Anywho, was jus’ sayin’ that I’m gonna head out to the car ‘cause we need t’get goin’, so quit your dilly dallyin’ and let’s get a move on.” He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat. 

You look at the ground as you mutter, “Yes, Dad, ‘m just about ready,” and your reply is met with a loud clap of your father's hands.

“Wonderful!” he exclaims, rubbing his palms together before bringing a heavy hand down on Joel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Joel, you can wait with me in the car. I need t’talk to ya ‘bout some work shit anyway.” Your dad begins to drag Joel down the stairs, but not before Joel can get the last word in between you. 

He cranes his head back, catching your glare as he descends the stairs. “Y’heard your daddy, no more dilly dallyin’,” he sing-songs, and you scoff. 

“Oh, fuck you, Miller.” “Language, ma’am,” you hear your dad chastise sternly, and you grumble a half-assed apology as you close your bedroom door behind you. It only takes you a minute to flip your dress so that you’re wearing it the correct way and throw on a pair of light pink, lace panties, bounding down the stairs and out the front door when you’re ready. Before you know it, you’re seated in the backseat of Joel’s old pickup truck as it cruises down the highway toward Austin’s metro area. 

You watch the residential neighborhoods littered with little kids running through sprinklers and elderly couples sitting in chairs on their front porches morph into the city, full of streets tightly lined with buildings and bar-hoppers entering their first destination of the night. The sun still hangs rather high in the sky, dappling the world in a warm amber glow as Joel pulls up outside a quaint Italian bistro nestled between an ice cream parlor full of bright-eyed children and a sushi restaurant rattling with the heavy bass of the music from within. 

“Cute lil’ place,” you say, surveying the old brick exterior of the building and the burgundy awning hanging over the open front door that bears the name of the restaurant, Palermio’s, in loopy, white script. “Sarah’s choice?”

Joel reaches his hand behind your dad’s headrest, using one hand to turn the wheel while he starts to squeeze his truck into the last snug parking spot outside of the bistro. “No, darlin’, I did.” You stare at his side profile as he maneuvers the truck, surprise lacing your features. It’s not until he’s parked the car and meets your eyes in the rearview mirror as he’s straightening out in his seat that you realize he’s bullshitting you. 

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you throw open your door and slide from the backseat, and he’s following you a second later.

“Y’know, you oughta be nicer t’me. I am your boss,” he says as you round his truck, his arm brushing yours, and you look up at him. “Could fire ya for bein’ disrespectful, ‘f I really wanted to.” You smirk at him and shrug. 

“Ya could, but then you’d be losin’ your best employee, right?” His chest bounces as he laughs, and you smile at the pleasant noise before getting distracted by how his relatively new-looking cream-colored t-shirt bearing the album cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors stretches tautly over the slopes of his wide shoulders. 

“Damn right, lady,” he agrees, his gaze crawling over your body as he drags his thumb over his mostly pepper, slightly salt mustache that decorates his upper lip. Your skin crawls pleasantly as you feel him examining you, and you’re just about to reach your father, who’s waiting for the two of you by the entrance to the restaurant, when you hear Joel quietly say, “Prettiest employee, too.”

Your head whips around, feet planting on the concrete as you wait for Joel to say something, anything else. Much to your chagrin, he struts right past you shamelessly, heading inside as your dad gives you a confused look. 

“You comin’, honey?” You shake your head, trying to dispel the medley of thoughts whirring around your brain. Did I hear him right? No, no, he didn’t mean that. Definitely not. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, stepping inside with a sheepish smile in your dad’s direction. “Thought I heard someone callin’ my name, ‘s my bad.” Your dad just nods his head in understanding before draping an arm over your shoulder and steering you toward the back of the restaurant, where you can see Joel already greeting the members of your party who have already arrived. 

As you draw closer, you watch him envelope his daughter in a firm hug, rocking back and forth for a few seconds as he whispers something in her ear. She giggles, punching him lightly in the shoulder, and when Sarah pulls back from his embrace, her deep brown eyes, which are almost identical to her father’s, catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder. Before you have a chance to react, she’s colliding with you so hard you grunt. 

“You came!” she squeals, jumping up and down as you wrap your arms around her and giggle. 

“Course I came, Sarah. Wouldn’t ‘ve missed your twenty-first birthday for the world, ‘re ya kiddin’?” She takes a step back, holding you by the shoulders before drawing you back in for another tight hug. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus’ didn’t know ‘f you’d be able to make it, didn’t know ‘f you’d have other plans or somethin’.” She bites her lip when you pull away this time, trying to hide the way she’s beaming at you, and a big smile paints your face. 

“Nah, no plans more important than my best friend’s birthday.” She smiles and leads you back to the table, where your dad and Joel have already found their seats. You lean against her and whisper conspiratorially, “Did have to fight with my boss t’get some time off for the occasion, though. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, like ya wouldn’t believe.” Sarah giggles, leveling you with a knowing grin. 

“I’m sure I’ve got some idea,” she says as she takes her seat at the head of the table, and you slip around to take the only empty seat, which happens to be between Joel and Tommy, his younger brother that you’ve only seen a handful of times. You offer the younger Miller brother a polite smile, which he returns with a cheeky smirk before you turn back to the birthday girl. 

“You’ve ain’t ever been that excited t’see me,” Joel says accusingly at Sarah, jerking his head toward where Sarah had practically tackled you, and you stifle a laugh at the hint of playful jealousy in his tone. 

“‘s ‘cause I’m not a grumpy old man,” you snark, and Tommy guffaws beside you, reaching around your back to slap Joel’s shoulder lightheartedly. 

“She gotcha there, big brother,” he says, accent saturated with his heavy Texas twang. Joel grumbles something incoherent and Tommy shoots you an amused wink. You watch your dad snort with laughter in his seat across from you, and Sarah’s boyfriend, Luke, who’s seated on her other side opposite Joel tries not to look too entertained by your ribbing of his girlfriend’s father, wisely busying himself with the menu. 

A few minutes after ordering your drinks your waitress reappears carrying a large tray brimming with an assortment of alcoholic beverages. You take a sip of your Pinot Noir, hiding a small smile behind the fruity flavor as the waitress sets a large cocktail layered with green, white, and red liquid and adorned with a small Italian flag attached to a thin, black straw in front of a wide-eyed Sarah. You’re unable to mask your laughter, however, when Joel’s eyes find the massive drink and he nearly chokes on his sip of Peroni. 

“Babygirl,” he sputters, still recovering from his small conniption, “that’s a lotta-”

“I’m twenty-one now, Dad, I can handle my alcohol,” Sarah assures him with an annoyed roll of her eyes and a look at you that says can you believe this guy? And it’s true, Sarah is more than capable of handling her drinks if the videos she’s shown you of her time at college are any indication. 

“I know, jus’... jus’ pace yourself, yeah?” She concedes with a small huff, and you wiggle your eyebrows at her tauntingly. 

“Yeah, Sarah, make sure ya pace yourself. Got a while ‘fore ya can hang with us big dogs. Right, Joel?” You elbow him in the side, and he looks at you disdainfully. 

“You’re a little shit, y’know that?” he murmurs under his breath. You shrug, snagging a piece of fresh, warm bread from the basket the waitress sat in the middle of the table and dipping it in the plate of olive oil and seasoning before stuffing it in your mouth. 

“Learned it fwom the besht,” you say merrily, grinning at him through your mouth full of food, and he sneers at you in disgust before turning his attention to your father and Tommy, who are in a heated debate over the Dallas Cowboys chances of success in the upcoming season.  

“I’m tellin’ ya, Tommy, this s’our year! We jus’ picked up that kid from- from… aw shit, where’s he from again?” Your dad rubs his temples, hoping to dislodge the information from some small, dusty compartment of his brain. 

“Notre Dame,” Joel chimes in as he reaches for his own piece of bread, and your dad snaps his fingers as his face lights up in remembrance.

“Notre Dame!” he bellows, and you shoot him a look that he promptly returns with an apologetic wince. “Notre Dame, yeah, s’right,” he says, quieter this time with a little smile, and you leave him and Tommy to continue their chat as you tune in to the conversation at the other end of the table. 

“Anyway, Dad, so Becca-”

“Which one s’that?” Sarah looks at Joel in disbelief. 

“Becca. Rebecca Landry. My best friend in high school, goes t’LSU with me, we lived together ‘fore I moved in with Luke…” Joel just stares at his daughter with vacant eyes, and you snort. “Dude, come on, ya literally grilled for her graduation party.” Joel shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. You watch how his throat bobs as he swallows and quickly avert your eyes, hoping no one caught you gawking. 

“Sorry, hon, doesn’t ring a bell.” She huffs, and Joel smirks, clearly just giving her a hard time. 

“Whatever. Anyway, her boyfriend proposed to ‘er last week, and it was jus’ the cutest thing. Real private ‘cause y’know how she is. She told me they don’t have a date set yet, but they’re thinkin’ ‘bout next Spring. Said t’ask if she should add ya to the guest list.” Joel hums non-committally, clearly lacking an opinion on the matter, and you pinch his elbow. He jerks out of your grip, looking at you with annoyance, and you cock your head in Sarah’s direction. When he turns to see her expectant glance, he huffs, head leaning back as he stares at the ceiling. 

“Tell ‘er I’ll be there,” Joel capitulates, and Sarah beams in excitement before giving you a grateful grin. 

“Awesome! She’ll be so excited, she loves ya.” Joel crosses his arms over his broad chest, shaking his head slightly as he leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs farther. You have to try desperately to keep your breath from hitching at the action. 

“Speakin’ o’ weddings and proposals n’ all that,” your dad says, giving Luke a friendly clap on the back. “When’s it your turn, buckaroo? ‘s been, what, three years of datin’? Gotta be soon, hm?” 

Luke looks like he wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle and sink into the floor at the line of questioning, something your dad remains completely oblivious to. Feeling bad, you throw the guy a lifeline. 

“Leave ‘im alone, Dad. Jesus, you ain’t even that interested in my love life,” you huff, sipping your wine. Luke seems to remember how to breathe, a look of thanks on his face as your dad scrunches his nose up.

“‘s cause I’m not. Don’t wanna know about some boy who’s wastin’ your time ‘cause he ain’t good ‘nough for ya.”

“Your daddy’s right, hon, ya deserve more than what some boy can give ya ,” you hear from your right side, and then a thick arm drapes loosely over your shoulders. You turn to look at Tommy, who’s closer to you than the last time you paid him any attention. 

“Knock it off, Tommy,” you hear Joel grumble, and you watch Tommy’s eyes dart over your shoulder and narrow minutely. An expression of innocence plasters over his face to quickly replace the mischievous smirk previously there.  

“Knock what off, big brother?” Your gaze shifts to Joel, and you nearly wilt at the stormy look he’s shooting his brother. His eyes are simultaneously full of emotion and totally unreadable, jaw ticking in… wait, is he jealous?

“Quit.” You bristle at Joel’s harsh tone, not realizing until it’s too late that when you shrink back at his timbre, you lean further into Tommy. You can feel the egotism rolling off of the younger Miller brother, and the tension building in Joel’s figure seems to grow until he’s at serious risk of snapping. You’re sure that the only way this ends is with Tommy making another haughty comment that results in Joel leaping over your lap and strangling the man…

“Alright, who ordered the lasagna?” Your waitress’ voice dissipates the thunderous air instantaneously, and everyone’s attention snaps to her. The wide, practiced smile she’s wearing falters for just a second, and she shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, ‘m I interrupting somethin’?” The tight pinch of Joel’s face evaporates before your eye, and you watch, stunned, as he turns toward your waitress. 

“Nah, darlin’, you’re alright. Reckon that’ll be mine,” he says, cool as clam. By the time all the food is dished out and you’re digging into your respective dinners, the near fight is long forgotten. Unfortunately, you’re not able to shake the bitter feeling of envy that twisted in your stomach at hearing Joel call the waitress “darlin’”. 

Before long, all six of your plates have been cleaned, and each of you sits back in your chairs, thoroughly stuffed full of rich Italian food. Your dad belches, drawing a laugh from the other men at the table while your and Sarah’s faces pinch in distaste, and the casual conversation continues as the street outside grows raucous with the Austin nightlife. 

Your dad, ever the chatterbox, is going on about some upcoming project at his contracting firm when you feel it: the firm weight of an arm draped over the backrest of your seat. You pay it no mind at first, chalking it up to Tommy’s touchy but harmless hands. 

That is until you feel soft, gentle shapes being drawn into the bare skin of your bicep on Tommy’s side. Your brain doesn’t comprehend the logistics of this immediately, and your head snaps in Tommy’s direction to find the younger man’s attention focused raptly on your father with his hands in his lap. 

Your back straightens, and goosebumps prickle across your skin when it finally clicks whose hands are on you; you slowly, inconspicuously face your father again, pretending like you’re listening so as not to spark anyone at the table’s awareness, all while peeking at Joel out of the corner of your eye. 

At first glance, it appears that he, like everyone else at the table, is completely engaged with the words tumbling from your dad’s mouth. But you know Joel too well. You pick up on the slight quirk of his lips, the way his thick thighs spread almost obnoxiously wide so his knee grazes yours, and how he’s drumming the thick fingers of his other hand rhythmically against the table. Joel felt how your body reacted to his touch.

And he liked it. 

That piece of information is what has the low burn in your belly from earlier in your bedroom reigniting, blazing up your skin and making your neck and chest flush a deep red. Joel must be able to sense your blundering state because he removes his hand from you altogether, causing your heart to drop. Your whole body begins to slump in disappointment just as you feel Joel replace his touch on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed when you sat down and the already short dress you’d thrown on in a panic earlier rode higher up your legs. 

He squeezes you there, thumb passing back and forth lightly, and your thighs spread of their own volition to allow him more room. You can see his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but he’s able to play it off easily as a reaction to your dad’s story. You do the same with the small smile that stretches your lips as his hand begins to creep higher up your leg. 

And it’s risky, what you’re doing. Allowing your dad’s best friend, the father of the girl you’ve lived next to almost your entire life, your boss, to inch his big, calloused hand closer and closer to where you want him most right here at this very public dinner. 

And yet, you simply do not care. 

Well, you don’t care until you feel the pad of his thumb brush your sex over your panties, and you jerk at the sensation, thighs closing to stop the movement of his hands. The action draws your dad’s attention to you, and his brow furrows as he scans your face. 

“You okay, hon? You’re not lookin’ too hot.” Your pulse thunders in your ears as you fumble for an excuse. 

“No, yeah, ‘m fine. Jus’... yeah, not – uh, not feelin’ too hot.” Everyone at the table looks at you with concern. Even Joel, though his eyes possess an air of arrogance at your state. The bastard. 

“Babe, you can go home ‘f ya need to,” Sarah says, and your eyes go wide as you shake your head. 

“No! No, ’m fine, really. I wanna stay for you, ‘s your birthday ‘n all.”

She waves her hand as though she’s physically batting away your excuse. “Party’s basically over anyway. Luke and I were gonna meet some friends at a bar a few blocks over anyway, so y’all are good t’go whenever.” 

“Well, I’m ready t'head home now,” your dad says, beginning to rise from his chair. “Rangers game ’s on at 9, and 'f we hurry, I won’t miss more than the first inning.” Joel, reading your dad’s eagerness to get home as his cue to be ready to leave as well, stands, and you catch the way he subtly adjusts himself on the way up. You resign yourself to the fact that the fleeting, secret moment between you is slipping through your fingers, and, albeit reluctantly, you follow his lead.

Tommy’s still seated, sipping casually from his beer, when he informs your dad, “Nah, man, it’s Friday night in downtown Austin. Reckon y’all won’t get home ‘til the third inning, at least.” Your father curses, running a hand over his semi-bald head in genuine worry, and you almost have to laugh at the concern twisting his features into a grimace. The urge to laugh quickly fades as you watch Tommy shrug his shoulders and carelessly say, “There’s a place 'bout five minutes away, lil’ sports bar my buddies and I go to t’watch the game sometimes. Can get kinda rowdy, but you’re welcome to tag along, ‘f ya want.” 

Your jaw almost falls off at Tommy, who’s completely oblivious to the bone he’s just thrown you. When you turn just enough to allow you a view of Joel out of the corner of your eye, you immediately notice his almost imperceptibly stiffer posture. You watch your dad’s face light up with excitement, a hell yeah on the tip of his tongue.

And then, suddenly, his expression drops and he’s looking at you guiltily. “Aww shit, Tommy, that sounds great, but ‘f this one,” he says, jabbing a thumb in your direction, “ain’t feelin’ well, I oughta get ‘er home.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

You go to object, to insist, practically beg your dad to take Tommy up on his offer so that it’s just you and Joel on the ride home, but Joel beats you to it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, man, I’ll take ‘er.” For the second time in mere minutes, you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to gawk at one of the Miller brothers. 

“You sure, Joel? Don’t wanna inconvenience ya or nothin’.” You watch Joel shrug, and then he turns to you, pinning you with an unreadable stare. 

“Y’alright with that, lady?” You stare at him, speechless. Are you alright with spending the entire ride home, perhaps even longer if your dad stays to watch the whole game and Sarah is bar-hopping, alone with Joel Miller right after his hand was brushing against your wet, wanting pussy?

Yeah, you were pretty fucking alright with that.  

Your silence must draw on for an uncomfortably long time because Joel raises his eyebrows at you, prompting an answer. “Yes!” you say, just a touch too loud, and you take a deep breath before turning back to your dad. “Yeah, sounds good – cool, ‘s cool with me.” 

Your dad gives you one more half-hearted once-over, verifying that you don’t need his escort home, but he’s in a losing battle with himself; the moment that Joel offered his services, your dad was sold. The coy little, “Well, ‘f you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” he extends to Joel is like a tepid stamp of finality as his mind is already half-full with Rangers jargon. 

Joel gives your dad a nod before jerking his head toward the door. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get ya home.” And you try, you really do try not to walk with your chest puffed out the entire way to Joel’s truck. You try to keep up the facade of illness that was brought on by your lustful tizzy. 

But Joel called you darlin’, and fuck if it didn’t sound better falling from his lips when it was directed at you and not some waitress. 

***

Tommy, for perhaps the first time in his entire life, was right; traffic absolutely crawled in the downtown Austin area at this time on a Friday night. You’d peeled away from the restaurant almost thirty minutes ago, when the sun was beginning its descent. 

Now, the analog numbers on Joel’s dash blink 8:57 p.m. , the summer sky having just shifted from muddy brown to steel grey and will soon start to give way to the dark of night and the whisperings of stars, and you’ve just managed to make it out of the city. 

Thirty minutes, nearly two thousand seconds, and each one totally void of speech. Joel stared straight out the front windshield, hands carefully gripping the steering wheel as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window and watched the metro landscape give way to soil and farmland, groups of clubgoers replaced by black and brown spotted cows. 

It’s not until the current CD in Joel’s radio reaches its end and the gears click, switching to the familiar crooning voice of Bob Dylan, that your soft singing breaks the silence. 

“What was that?” Joel asks, and you turn your gaze to watch him, focus still intent on the road in front of him. 

“Nothin’, just singin’.” He looks at you then, just a quick glance in your direction, but it makes your blood sing. 

“Y’like Bob Dylan? “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, hm?” You shrug noncommittally, and his responding smirk makes you sit up in your seat. 

“What’re ya laughin’ at?” Joel just shakes his head, and you lean over and swat his bicep playfully. “What?” 

“Nothin’, baby.” The word sounds perfect in his low, gruff timbre, and you grin stupidly. When he sees your expression, he reaches over and wraps his big palm around your knee, giving it a shake. “Got good taste s’all. Didn’t expect it from ya.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to pretend like the large spread of his hand over your bare skin doesn’t make your core throb. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Miller. You should know better than anyone how much I like old shit.” He clucks his tongue, sliding his hand farther up your leg and squeezing your thigh in warning. 

“Careful,” he advises teasingly, but you’re not feeling particularly cautious tonight. 

“Says you.”

“Says me?” 

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind the action as all the warmth in your body is currently shooting to a spot in your tummy. “Yeah, Joel, says you. I wasn’t the one with my hands between your legs in the middle of dinner tonight.” You watch Joel’s posture straighten and you try to hide your grin at his reaction.

Bingo. 

You bite your lip and watch his eyes dart in your direction. Even in the ever-darkening dusk, you can see the hint of hunger in his pupils. “Didn’t see you complainin’.” You adjust in your seat, and Joel’s hand slips higher, his pinky just barely dipping beneath the hem of your dress.

“‘s ‘cause I liked it,” you say matter-of-factly, and you watch him exhale heavily. His head swings lazily to look at you, eyes dropping to where his palm rests on your slightly spread thighs before traveling up to meet your stare. 

“Yeah? Liked me touchin’ your pussy with all those people ‘round? Any of ‘em coulda caught us, pretty girl. Coulda caught me feelin’ how fuckin’ wet you were, soakin’ through your panties.” And you’re almost sure Joel’s trying to make a point in there somewhere. That what you two did was risky in and of itself, not to mention the fact that he was touching you like that in public. 

And yet all you can focus on is that name. Pretty girl. You think it’s your favorite thing he’s ever called you.

When you don’t answer right away, Joel looks back to the road. You watch him check the rearview mirror, and then he’s making a left down a long road and parking the car on a small dirt pull-off a few hundred feet in.

You look around, surveying your surroundings; tall prairie grass decorates your side of the road while a large cornfield stretches over the side closest to Joel, and the only thing lighting the earth for a few miles in any direction is the soft glow of the moon overhead. When you focus your attention on Joel again, half of his face is shadowed while the gleam of lunar opalescence illuminates the other half. 

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, and you can’t help but stare. You reach toward Joel, cautiously at first, but emboldened when he squeezes your leg. You cup his jaw and rub your thumb over his stubbled jaw; his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and you shuffle closer, Joel’s hand falling away from you as you sit up on your knees and reach across the center console to cup the dark side of his face with your other hand. 

His palm finds a new position on your hip, and when his eyes open again, revealing his dark, chocolatey irises to you, your body leans closer toward his of its own volition. As if something inside of him, perhaps the very marrow of his bones, is magnetized to yours. 

“Joel,” you say, soft voice cutting through the silence in the cab of the truck. 

“Hmm?”

“Is this… is this bad? What we’re doing?’ His eyes dart around your face, taking in your heated gaze with a warmth of his own. He sighs as his other hand traces up the side of your body before slipping around your shoulders and resting on the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t say it’s good.” You nod, scratching your nails lightly through the salt-and-pepper beard he’s let grow. 

“Should we stop?” It comes out as a whisper, laced with apprehension, tediousness, and want. So, so much want. 

“Probably.” And he’s right. Whatever this thing between you and Joel is, it’s not feasible. Sure, it would be great. Amazing, even… until it’s not. Until the appetite for each other dies out and what’s left is a hollow skeleton of awkward encounters and forced conversation to keep up appearances.

Either that or the hunger becomes all-consuming, to the point where you can’t eat, can’t breathe, can’t sleep without thoughts of Joel dominating your mind. 

And maybe that’s worse, you think. Finding out what Joel tastes like, what it feels like when he sinks into your wet heat, just for it to one day be stolen from you. 

Because there isn’t an angle to approach this from that doesn’t end in the same unfortunate reality; Joel can’t be yours. He will never be yours. 

And, so, yeah. You probably should stop. But as you go to pull away, to take your hands off of Joel and sit back in your seat while Joel returns the truck to the main road before depositing you safely at home like the good friend he is, Joel’s grip on the nape of your neck tightens. And then he’s tugging your mouth to meet his and your hands, still cupping his cheek, are pulling his face in to meet you halfway.

When Joel’s lips slot against yours, you’re surprised by how soft he is. Joel Miller, perpetually gruff and probably born with callouses etched into his hands, is so inconceivably gentle at the first contact of his mouth against yours. You sigh, breathing him in as he threads his fingers into your hair, and a moment of tranquility washes over you. This truck is the only place that has ever or will ever exist, and you and Joel are the only two people in the world.

You slide one of your hands from his jaw to his neck, stroking the solid strength of his throat, and a rough noise vibrates from him. You repeat the motion experimentally, and he groans into you, tongue darting out to politely ask for entrance into your mouth. 

You accept with an enthusiastic moan, and that’s when the seemingly endless reservoir of Joel’s reserve drains dry. He licks into you, tongue caressing yours when you part your lips for him, and the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you held steadily against him. He feasts on you, stealing the air you breathe as he kisses you ferociously. 

Joel sucks on your tongue when you go to mewl, and the sound is replaced by a wanton whine. You roll your hips over nothing, and Joel clocks the movement immediately. You feel his reluctance as he drags his mouth from yours, and you sit and wait, carefully assessing every minute change in his expression as you try to regain your composure. 

You’re sure you’re supposed to be embarrassed right now, ashamed that you couldn’t keep your neediness in check. However, you can only think about two things: how fucking horny you are at the moment, and how that was probably the only time you’ll ever kiss Joel because this entire thing is about to come crashing down in short-lived, fiery oblivion.

But Joel does something. Something that really shocks you, leaves you vulnerable to attack and exposed right down to the root of you. He looks you up and down, from the slightly frumpled state of your green dress to the no-doubt wild gleam in your eyes, and smirks before saying, “You need t’be filled up, don’t ya, baby?”

You smile and nod, licking your lips as you appraise the man sitting in front of you. He’s so intoxicatingly broad, the sleeves of his shirt stretching tightly over his biceps while the legs of his jeans pull taut along his thighs. You shift in your seat again, causing Joel to pull you closer, and though you’re uncomfortably sprawled across the center console, you’ve never felt more right than you do right now. 

Your lips are brushing Joel’s, so close you can feel the warm puffs of breath leaving his nostrils, and any slight surge forward by either of you would connect your mouths again. Instead, you stay like that, so close but still too far for your liking. 

“Tell me what it is you want, sweetheart.” You angle your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth before drifting your lips back to hover over his. 

“Want your cock, Joel.” Your bluntness must take him by surprise because his head falls back against his seat and he groans. You take the opportunity to drop your lips to his neck, kissing it lightly before licking up the column of his throat and biting delicately at the junction where his neck meets his jaw. 

“Yeah?” He takes one of your hands and drags it down his front, letting you feel the muted strength of his abdomen tailored from years of manual labor and the soft swell of his belly before landing on the thick bulge in his pants. You pull away from where you were beginning to leave a small bruise on his neck to look at where your hand cups his clothed erection, and you practically drool at the sight. “You want this, hmm?”

“Yes,” you confirm airily before your eyes snap up to meet his, heavy-lidded and clouded with lust. “Please, Joel, I- I need it.” He nods, the hand that guided yours leaving you to your own devices and drifting back up to rub his thumb over your lips. You take the opportunity to massage him through his pants, and he sighs, smirking at you. 

“Tell me where ya need it, honey,” he lilts, and you grip his bicep as you squeeze his cock lightly. “Need it here?” He nudges his thumb gently between your parted lips, and even as you shake your head, your mouth opens to him, allowing him to push his finger inside. You swirl your tongue over the salty pad of his thumb, switching to mellow kitten licks before taking it deeper. 

“No?” he asks, quirking a brow at you. He presses his thumb down against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide so he can see down your throat. “Gotta tell me where then, baby.” You close your mouth again, sucking on his thumb briefly before pulling off of him with a lewd pop. 

Your eyes never leave his, and you watch them turn impossibly darker when you tell him earnestly, “My pussy. Want you to stretch my cunt with your fat cock.” He huffs lightly at the vulgarity of your words, and you squeeze him through his pants again. 

“You’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, y’know that?” He looks almost in awe, and you smirk at him, beginning to crawl across the center console to straddle him. When he stops you with a hand to your sternum, you look at him in confusion. “We can’t tonight, darlin’. Wanna take my time with you when I fuck ya, gotta make sure I get ya ready.” 

You’re so utterly disappointed you ache with it, pouting at him as you draw in close. “But I’m ready now, Joel. So fuckin’ wet for you, have been since the restaurant.”

He gives you a chaste kiss before pulling back and jerking his head toward your seat. “Show me.” You smirk as you slink back into your seat. You rest with your back against the car door, your right leg dangling off the seat while you tuck your left leg up and spread your knees farther apart, causing the hem of your dress to ride up your thighs until it’s brushing your tummy. You can tell by the wrecked look in Joel’s eyes that from this angle, he has a perfect view of the damp spot decorating the slip of pink lace that is your underwear. 

“Fuck, baby, ya weren’t lyin’,” he mutters, fingers smoothing his mustache. “Pretty lil’ panties are soaked. That all for me?” You bite your lip and nod, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy as you ghost your fingertips over the soft skin of your thighs. He makes a noise of appreciation as he watches your movements hungrily, fist clenching as your digits move closer to your aching core.

“Mhm, f’course it is,” you assure, letting out a breathless, needy gasp when your fingers brush your clit over your underwear. You’re sure you must look fucked out, and you’d be embarrassed by that fact if it weren’t for the heady look Joel’s pinning you with right now. You whine as Joel brings his hand down to palm the thick, rigid outline of his cock bulging against his jeans, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. You roll your hips and whine at the stimulation, doing it again without breaking eye contact with Joel. 

He squeezes himself and groans as you rut slowly against yourself, dipping a finger down to tease at your soaking entrance over your damp panties, and he smirks. “You gonna show me how ya fuck yourself, baby? Show me how ya like it, hm?” 

And you would. You really, really would. Except Joel Miller is sitting in front of you with nothing but a few measly scraps of fabric preventing you from his hard length, and you think that it would be such a waste to not take advantage of that fact. 

Besides, you’ve already made yourself come more times than you can count with Joel Miller’s name on your tongue.

“No, baby,” you shake your head, and his brows pinch in confusion. You lick your lips, hand halting its ministrations as you sit up on your haunches and stare at Joel. “Want ya to fill me up.” 

He huffs exasperatedly at that, and his tone is laced with annoyance when he says, “Jus’ told ya, ‘m not fuckin’ ya t’night-” 

“Joel.” Your interruption shuts him up and he watches you lean in. You brush your lips over his, along his jaw and up his cheek before halting by his ear. “I want you,” you say, dragging a hand down his chest to rest over his in his lap, “to put your cock in my mouth and fill me up.” 

You apply pressure down over his hand, making him squeeze himself and the sound he makes is something close to a growl. He angles his head so that your lips meet for a heated kiss and he licks into your mouth immediately, tongue dancing with yours.

“Yeah?” Joel breathes into your mouth, and the hand not palming his dick threads into the hair at the nape of your neck. He tugs, pulling your head back so that you look down your nose at him with wide eyes and heavy lids. “Ya wanna suck me off?” You smile almost shyly and nod, and he tuts at you, bending to kiss the hollow of your throat before licking a stripe up your neck. 

“Don’t go quiet on me now, darlin’. You had so much t’say earlier, know this pretty mouth s’good for more than just takin’ my dick.” You whine, pressing your thighs together as best you can and rubbing, trying to give yourself some, any friction. 

“Wanna taste you, Joel,” you murmur, already delirious and you haven’t even gotten your mouth on him. “Want it so bad, please.” 

He rakes his eyes over you, takes in the needy glide of your thighs against each other and the ragged pants making your chest heave. He must take pity on your haggard form because he grins affectionately and releases his hand from your hair. 

“Since ya asked so nicely,” he says, palm gliding around to sit on your shoulder. He strokes the column of your throat a few times, watching you with a hooded gaze before nodding toward his crotch. “Go on, baby. Show me how much ya want it.”

You don’t need to be told any more than that before you’re hastily undoing his belt, ripping it from his pants and tossing it into the backseat while simultaneously popping the button on his jeans. Where your movements are hurried and ravenous, Joel’s are soft and sweet; he strokes your back lightly, broad, calloused palm feeling heavenly as it tracks over your bare skin. 

You lower the zipper on his jeans and he lifts his hips, allowing you to drag the coarse fabric down his thighs. It takes you a second after you’ve maneuvered his pants out of your way to realize you’re face to face with the stiff outline of Joel’s cock, straining against the black fabric of his boxers. Your mouth goes chalky when you see the small dot of moisture near his fat tip, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and pressing a kiss to the spot. 

Your groan is in unison with his, and Joel must be growing impatient because his hand snakes up to gently cradle your neck. “Don’t be a tease, pretty girl,” he scolds tenderly, and the endearment causes you to look up at him through your lashes. What you find in his eyes is something lusty, full of desire and want and… pure, unadulterated awe. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing. 

“Wasn’t bein’ a tease,” you say, bending back down to mouth at his cock over his boxers, and he moans when you lave at his swollen tip through his underwear. 

“Nah, jus’ so needy ya can’t even wait ‘til I get my cock out t’put your mouth on it, hm?” You lick up his dick and feel it twitch, his thigh tensing underneath the hand you have braced there. You smirk, looking up at him as you dip your pointer fingers under the band of his underwear, hooking your digits and arching your eyebrow.

He acquiesces with a lazy smile, lifting his hips, and you slowly drag the tight fabric of his boxers down to where his pants pool around his knees. However, you don’t immediately look at Joel’s length after fully freeing it from the confines of his clothes. You’re not sure why a cool feeling of nervous anticipation washes over you, but you find yourself stalling, rubbing your thumb over the inside of his knee and kissing his thigh gently. 

Joel, the attentive man he is, picks up on your nerves immediately. He massages the area where your spine meets your skull, and you practically melt at the feeling. “Y’okay?” he says softly, and you nod, turning your head to rest on his thigh. Your eyes avoid his dick, jumping up to land on his face. His expression is so kind, so compassionate and observant, that it makes you ache. 

“‘m fine. More than fine, ‘m good. Great.” He nods, stroking your cheek before he frowns. 

“Y’know, ‘f ya aren’t feelin’ it anymore, we can stop. We don’t have’ta-”

“S’not that,” you mutter, and he stops talking, waiting for you to go on. You inhale deeply, looking for the courage to speak your thoughts into the charged atmosphere of the truck. “I jus’... don’t want ya to regret this.” He flashes you a perplexed look before tipping his head back and laughing. Your cheeks blaze with heat, embarrassment creeping in to tamper the fire of want, and you bury your face into Joel’s thigh to hide. 

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t respond, he grabs your jaw and makes you turn to him. “Baby. Look at me.” You stare, lip twisted in your teeth, and you can’t help but feel small under the weight of his gaze. He angles your chin down then, and you finally let your eyes fall, taking in the cock you’ve tried to conjure in your imagination while your fingers were stuffed in your pussy more times than you can count. 

In a word, Joel Miller’s dick is pretty. Thick and long and tan. Veiny and girthy, easily the biggest you’ve ever seen. His tip, which is a few shades darker than every other part of his length, is an angry red, weeping precome from the little slit at the top. The thick weight of him bobs up and sits at attention against his belly, resting against him obediently. Your mouth pools with saliva at the sight of it. 

Through the cotton in your ears, you can just barely make out when Joel says, “You tell me, honey. ‘s that look like regret t’you?” You swallow thickly and shake your head. 

“N-no,” you stutter, sitting up slightly. You admire the way pearly beads of precome trail down his length and subconsciously lick your lips. 

“No.” You can feel his stare on the side of your face, but you can’t focus on anything except the cock in front of you that has you drooling while your cunt begs to be filled. “Want this, sweet girl, jus’ as bad as you, and that ain’t gonna change tomorrow or the day after or next week. I want this,” he says, and he says it with such confidence and surety that you have no choice but to believe him. You nod, almost in a trance, before bending over and pressing a chaste kiss to his fat head. 

He must not have been expecting that response from you because at the contact of your lips against his hard member, his head falls back against the seat and he groans, the sound drawing out when you start to press soft kitten licks to his slit. 

“That’s it, honey – fuck, feels good.” You preen under his praise, smirking as you spread your lips to wrap around his tip. He hisses through his teeth, and the noise is all you need to start slowly working him down your throat. He’s so big, and even just the head of his cock has your jaw straining slightly.

You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to take him fully in your mouth, that you’ll have to use one, if not both hands to stroke the rest of his long, thick dick as you focus your attention on the head. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. 

You pull off of him quickly, and he responds with a disappointed little grunt, mouth turned down in a depressing little frown. That is, until he watches you spit into your hand and place your palm around his base, stroking him slowly. A lopsided smile replaces his previous expression and when you twist your fist at the same time your mouth latches back onto his cock, he can’t help but jerk his hips. Joel’s thrust makes his tip kiss the back of your throat and it takes you by surprise, making you gag.

You watch his eyes go wide in worry as he immediately murmurs, “‘m sorry, baby,” his voice utterly wrecked. You lick from the space your fist occupies and swirl your tongue over him a few times, looking into his eyes as you catch your breath. 

“S’okay, Joel,” you purr, lips against him as his cock twitches at the low cadence of your voice. “I can handle it, I won’t break.” And then you’re right back to easing him down your throat. Drool dribbles from your mouth as you work him in your fist, stroking and twisting and pulling while your tongue focuses on the sensitive area you’ve discovered just under his head. 

The cab of the truck fills with the melody of your slick mouth sucking Joel off, punctuated by the sweet sounds falling from his lips. Joel isn’t a particularly talkative person, but you’re incredibly happy to find that all that changed when your head was bobbing up and down his length. 

“Good girl, perfect fuckin’ girl,” he grits out, tightening his hand into a fist and slamming it against his window a few times as he struggles to keep his hips stationary. You hum around him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to thread into your hair to encourage him to move. A throaty groan rips through him as he realizes what you’re asking, and he thrusts lightly into your mouth. 

You relax your throat, allowing him to push deeper than he had been just a minute ago, and the feeling of being so utterly full of him makes you whine, shuffling slightly to relieve the pressure building at the apex of your thighs. 

“Y’like that, sweetheart? Like when I fuck your pretty face?” The utter filth he’s spewing at you makes you gasp and whimper, and he laughs almost smugly at your reaction to his words. “Yeahhh, you like that. Go on, baby, touch yourself while you suck my cock.” You don’t have to be told twice, snaking your hand down to rub frantically at your aching clit while he slowly, gently jerks his hips into the tight, warm, wet vice of your mouth. 

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm in no time, seeing as how you were already thoroughly worked up from your little display at the restaurant and everything that’s transpired in Joel’s truck since. Actually, if you’re being honest, you’ve been soaking into your panties since that stunt you pulled in your room before you even made it to dinner. 

You feel stuffed to the brim, Joel’s cock hitting a spot in your throat over and over that has tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks to combine with your spit lathering his cock. He brushes his big thumb over the path a tear careens down, brushing away the wetness as he drags his hand down to cradle your throat. 

“Doin’ real good for me, doin’ perfect.” He squeezes lightly around your neck and curses. “Shit, darlin’, I can feel my cock right here.” He taps your throat and you whine, eyes rolling back as you rut desperately against your fingers. You’re so, so close, and you can tell that Joel is too by the way his tempered pace is growing more erratic, his shallow thrusts less controlled. The noises dripping from his lips to meet your ears are gruffer now too, words he’s failing to string into sentences as they're cut off by expletives and needy moans. 

Joel looses a low, gravelly groan that signals he’s mere moments from reaching his peak, and you hear him choke out, “Where do ya want it, baby?’ just as the pull of pleasure burning in your tummy goes taut. You don’t answer, opting instead to simply pull off of him and seat your open mouth at the head of his cock, sticking your tongue out and looking up into his face. Joel smirks as you continue jerking him off with the hand not paying attention to your clit, but his smile falls into a slack-jawed look of lust as his balls pull tight and he comes.

The thick ropes of warm cum spurting over your tongue and decorating the inside of your mouth are just what you need to push you into your own climax; your legs shake and you let a high-pitched sound ring through the truck cab as your cunt clenches hard around nothing, wetness seeping from your underwear and coating the insides of your thighs. 

Despite your own orgasm, you make sure to catch every last drop of Joel’s spend, holding it on your tongue for him to see. The space goes silent for a few seconds, both of you basking in your respective post-coital bliss as your eyes scan over each other. Your gaze hangs heavy as he takes in your sweaty, disheveled form languidly before landing back on your face. Joel shoots you an endearing, sweet look, before brushing the hair plastered to your sweaty forehead away from your face. 

“Go on, honey. Swallow it f’me.” You do as Joel says, swallowing the sticky fluid he’s shot down your throat, and you find the salty, tangy taste surprisingly pleasant. You clean the corners of your mouth where some of his seed landed with your thumb and, with his eyes on you, push the digit into your mouth, sucking it dry. The dirty act makes Joel shake his head and chuckle, and once you’ve finished, you open your mouth and tip your head back to show him that you’ve taken care of his mess. 

You both sit there for a while, just staring at each other with your head resting on his thigh as he strokes your cheek. You’d almost call the gesture loving, but you don’t want to be presumptuous. After a decent amount of time has passed and the stars have come to bear witness to your dirty deed, you turn your head and catch the pad of Joel’s thumb in a soft kiss. 

“Oughta get back,” you say, reluctantly breaking the silence. He nods, and you stay like that for a second longer before sitting back in your seat. Joel starts the truck and traverses down the lonely path toward the main road. As he pulls back out onto the black asphalt, likely still warm from the summer sun that’s long disappeared, you can’t help but wonder if this moment will forever belong to the space between that long stretch of prairie grass and corn stalks. 

You can’t help but hope that it won’t.

***

As Joel nears your development, you pull down the sun visor on your side and flip open the mirror. Your mouth falls open and a little gasp slips at the sight that meets your eyes. Joel must hear it because his gaze flickers in your direction. 

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks, worry lacing your tone, and you almost giggle at his concern. 

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” you groan, raking your fingers through the hair that Joel’s fingers knotted. Your lips are swollen and chapped, your eyelids heavy with the look of lust, and there’s a track of mascara streaking down your cheek from your tears. To put it bluntly, you look like you’ve been freshly fucked. 

Joel looks at you again and barks out a laugh as he turns down your street; he pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park so that he can turn to you more fully. You’re frantically trying to will the bright blush on your cheeks indicative of sex from your cheeks as you wipe furiously at the now-dried trail of black mascara. 

“Waterproof” my ass. 

Your head snaps in Joel’s direction when you hear him chuckle again, your eyes wide with a plea for help. He shrugs, smirking slightly. “Better get inside ‘fore someone sees ya, or else they’ll know what we’ve been up to.” 

You know he’s teasing, but his words make you deflate slightly nonetheless as they feel a little bit like he’s kicking you out; however, you steel yourself quickly. There was nothing for him to kick you out of, and it was silly of you to think otherwise. Sure, you’d just sucked his dick and made him come down your throat. And, yeah, maybe he’d almost gotten caught with his hand between your legs at dinner. But that didn’t mean anything. 

Just two adults engaging in a casual hookup. That’s all.

Even as you try and convince yourself of this, your reasoning, and consequently your attitude, falls flat. You grunt with thinly veiled annoyance as you grab the door handle and make to leave. “Could’ve jus’ parked at your house, I woulda walked,” you mutter, irritation simmering in your gut as you go to open the door, but then a strong hand reaches across your lap to wrap around your hand on the handle and pull it back shut.

When you try again and are met with the same result, you huff and turn, coming face to face with Joel. His brows are furrowed and the corner of his plush lips are turned down. You hate yourself for wanting to kiss him right now, even though he’s actively telling you to go while not allowing you to do so. 

“What?” you bite out, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to. He squeezes your hand, and you feel tension you didn’t realize was making your body go rigid ease. 

“What’s a’matter, baby?” The pet name makes you blush, and now you feel even more stupid. 

“Nothin’,” you lie. Rather convincingly too, you think proudly, until Joel cocks an eyebrow and informs you just how shoddy your facade is. 

“Know ya too well t’believe that bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” You huff, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You drop your hands into your lap, eyes falling to watch your thumbs twiddle. You don’t think you can look into those all-consuming brown eyes right now. 

“Jus’... I dunno, bein’ dumb. Thought you were kickin’ me out or somethin’.” You shrug indifferently, and he sits there for a second, watching you fidget nervously. You see him scan your surroundings out of the corner of your eye, making sure no prying eyes are around, and before you can even react, Joel’s gripping the back of your neck and turning your head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. You melt into him, sighing in relief at the feeling of his tongue licking the seam of your mouth.

You stay like that, greedily tasting each other. Or, in Joel’s case, greedily tasting the lingering flavor of himself in your mouth. He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving and eyes dark, and you lick your lips and grin at him. 

“I’ll see ya soon, baby,” he says with conviction, and you nod slowly. But apparently your response isn’t convincing enough for him, because he pulls you in closer and says against your lips slowly, “I will see you soon.” 

“Okay,” you breathe into his mouth, and he kisses you chastely once, twice before opening your door and tapping your thigh. 

“Now get.” You smile, hopping out of his car, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire way to your front door. Even when you’ve disappeared into your house, you can feel the brand of his gaze on your flesh. 

You watch through the window as he sits in his truck for another minute, and then he reverses down your driveway and pulls into the one next door, hopping out of his truck and leisurely heading up to his front door. You watch him walk into his house, and only then do you stop watching.

You’re not entirely sure how you get up to your bedroom, but you’re almost able to believe that you floated there like an apparition, head airy and thoughts bordering on dream-like. When you collapse on your bed, your mind is on the feel of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, of his cock thrusting into your throat, of what that same tongue and those same thrusts might feel like in your pussy. 

What you’re not thinking about is how utterly fucked you are. You’d told yourself once that you wouldn’t be able to do a thing like this with Joel because you’d never have your fill, always wanting more after that first initial taste of him. But you’d gone against your better judgment tonight, and now that little crack of yearning had split into a yawning chasm of want; greedy and unsatiated and hungry. 

Hungry for one thing, one person, one man: Joel Miller.

Yeah, you were fucked

___________________________________________________________

[court-jobi]

Meal Prep

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's works or the lovely art found here))

Pairing: Bakugo x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 5k

Rating: M | 18+ (begone, minor extras- it's too spicy for you, Kacchan says so)

Warnings: hand-holding sexy times, first time!Bakugou/reader, food and commitment as a love language, FEELINGS, accidental quirk use, pet names, piv smut, established relationship, wrap it up, this is fantasy

Summary:

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together.  And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

A/N: It's spice, yall. Someone needs to rein their quirk in, and I'm not naming names (Katsuki Bakugou)

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

When Bakugou turned to his side -feeling the hand at his lower back- and went to lift you up on the counter for some kisses, something just... came over you. 

Your moves were tame at first- rubbing his chest and shoulders at the moment’s reprieve. Just giving yourself sweetly into it. Now with his hands on you, he got really hard really fast, and made some quip about you getting fresh between shared ravishments of love. 

Sure, you were biting at his lips longer than usual. Sure, you were hanging onto him in a manner far more codependent than you'd ever claim to be. By the look in his eye, he wasn't ever gonna be caught complaining, though. You’ve  been stared at and longed after across any room you're in just as wantonly, and he's the first to second your opinion when it matters. He calls you every night he's away for missions, and stays his need to sleep just to be able talk to you while your time zones are flip-flopped. 

Although, it was rather hungry of you to be so enamored by him today: where even the simplest conversation about the prices of strawberries going up made you fall slack into him. 

He asks what brought this on~ 

"Just love having you here,” you surmised, “I– like not doing these things alone." 

You’d made the economical offer to cook together and split the bills. Since your diets were fairly similar anyway, you might as well buy in bulk. He was in an indulgent headspace tonight, since he’d been laying on the pet names thick all day; this, his rare day off. Yours is tomorrow, but you were fortunate enough to get off at a decent hour to get the grocery shopping done early- with him. 

– only Bakugou enforced a strict habit of insisting on taking care of the receipt at the store, but never letting you settle up your half. The ‘slip of the mind’ he suffered from the first time was no longer an accident, but a routine.

Now, two stacks of four portioned meals each lay side by side prepped in the fridge. Some additional protein packs top your stash to keep on hand between long night drives; small and compact, they help fuel you mid-mission so you don’t have another repeat of a blood sugar drop while enroute with a squad of heavyweight heroes making a cross-city trek. Bakugou preferred to pick out treats as a surprise in those meal kits. Trivial as gift giving goes, but it offers some enrichment to your otherwise predictable menu. You haven’t seen what he’d snuck in the cart underneath that bag of string beans this time, and just saw their packed away presence in the fridge, teasing you.

But back at the sink where he’d begun to wash up, you ignored their mystery. Now, you just wanted to show him how much he was appreciated.

Yes, something switched in your brain: making meals together, sharing cleanup duties, counting these little moments as blessings and feeling like life’s weight wasn't all just on you put you in a mood. You both might not have necessarily gotten too fresh before today, but this wasn’t simply a domestic dance with lust.

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s sharp and fast to stop you from doing something stupid, and was the loudest voice in the room when your top 20 ranking was announced across the agency conference table. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together. 

And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you.

He wanted to show you he loved you; down to the grind of meal prepping on a Sunday night. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

Your adoring man nuzzles and talks to your neck, "Gettin' sappy again, angel."

He is down bad for you: no matter how sassy he makes the observation sound– that scratchy, rumble tone doesn’t help with your dizzying brain at all.

You offer up your neck a little, scratching along the base of his spine for full, soothing effect.

"Whass’wrong with that?" 

Bakugou simply purrs back happily.

"Cuz if you start saying shit like that, I'mma start sayin' shit. Shit I won't be able to stop spewing once I start."

"Maybe I don't want you to stop."

He senses your heart peeking through your words. Your eyes carry the message loud and clear, too, though they’re having a hard time staying open from the headrush. 

Lifting his heavy head, Bakugou studies you thoughtfully, before stepping into this soft side of yours.

"You don't want me to stop." 

Of course you don’t, so you shake your head.

"You want me to stay." 

Through a smile, you give your shy agreement. 

Even more vulnerable, Bakugou’s rare touch of a smile makes its appearance,

"You want me to stay forever? Make sure my lady's fed and happy?”

"Yes," you sink into him, happier than ever. 

"Looks like I'm staying then. Already made you dinner. Whaddya want me to do next?" 

"Hmm– kiss me?" 

Bakugou leans in to grant you your simple wish- but fully laps at your mouth instead. He means to entice, draw things out, make you want him that much more while giving himself nothing but torture at the same time. He’s used to making himself sweat; at least this was the fun simmer that didn’t burn.

The blonde moans low in his chest when you brush his cheek’s scar with your thumb. 

"Whaddya want, pretty girl,” Bakugou scoops you in close, memorizing this hot look of need you’re having right in the middle of chores, “What, y’want me to kiss you forever too?" 

Fixed on his lips -currently teased between his teeth- you give a rare curse that contrasted your sugar sweet demeanor, 

“Hell yes--" 

Kisses smash between you as sloppily as you want while he pulls you off the counter, over to the couch, and plops you on his lap, where you adjust to a squat over him and followed his persistent pull for you to sit. 

Pink lovemarks all over your neck, Bakugou’s rough attentions drive his hands to go just about anywhere he wants in a need-driven frenzy. Whether to warm you up or keep himself from perspiring too much? Who's to say.

Suddenly as he growled out his pleasure at your hips fitting up upon his lap, Bakugou fisted your  shirt in each palm– he tugs you deliciously tight as you kiss the daylights out of him.

Through his satisfied chuckles, he thought all was good until he started feeling some pops muffling in his hands. 

Bakugou knows what's coming– it's the speed of this onset that freaks him out-

His senses shout at him lightning quick, so it's a miracle that Bakugou immediately threw his hands out, shooting off hot sparks with palms out towards the coffee table- spooking you into a yelp. 

The panic settled just as soon as it came– you stared at each other after the round of pops stopped. 

Somehow, you were never afraid he’d ever sweat to the point of harming you, so you rolled with it as if he didn’t just almost blow you to bits. Must just be excited. 

Cheeky, you  thumbed to your bedroom before mimicking a Dynamight-style ‘stressball’ in your palm.

"Need your gloves?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes, "Fuck.... Fine."

As if a little coverage on his hands was going to be the end of the world. 

"I could make a condom joke instead, so be grateful!~" 

A pruned hand smacked your thigh in protest. “Har. Har.”

As you dismounted him (since you knew he was just gonna be pouty and sulk until he could touch you again), you pulled him up by his neckline so that he followed hungrily behind you and didn't cause a stink over it. In your room, you dug in his designated helmet for his gloves, which he roughly handled and donned while you rounded his strong set of shoulders and kissed him through it across the bits of skin you could reach.

"Can't believe I gotta put these fuckin’- things on- every time I get hot and fuckin' bothered-” 

"We'll figure that out, honey. Hey,” you pull him up to your sightline, “You still got me?”

Gloved but no less handsome as ever, Bakugou looks far too dazed to try his hand at driving your bike. Better he crash here, with you. He grabs you close; his answer.

“-- then there’s no complaints here. It’ll work; for now."

He moans kind of high and happy into your kisses on his mouth again. The sound ripples in you, coaxing more love out from your needy fingers and gentle kneading and soft layers that he’s mad he couldn't reciprocate anymore. He voiced this displeasure when he tugged up on your thighs and tipped you onto the bed. Setting a knee between your thighs and capturing a hand in his to pin you, Bakugou firmed up his brows, 

"Well, maybe I wanna feel you BACK, huh?"

"I get that, Katsu-honey~ we'll-- work on it. Learning curve." 

One thing the Hero World would be fast to assume about Katsuki Bakugou is that he'd take whatever he wanted from someone making eyes at him; that he'd be dominant and mean and addictive and that one might regret pushing his buttons in the bedroom, because it would be far too much. ‘Better not test him, he’d be too rough.’ But you hardly think this way, as you have him here:

Here, you look up to him, lovesick and shy, pulling him down because he feels too far away. And tempered as he is when he's in deep, Bakugou reads you and quickly responds in kind. He does kneel over and meets your lips, but freezes like steel as he tries to figure out how to be close but not crush you, despite your yanking for it.

"Katsuki~~"

"I'm not dropping ninety-five kilos a’ dead weight on you, dummy,” he chortled, “Not gonna happen."

"But I want you~~"

"Oh, you want me, huh? Needy girl..." Pets caressing down your cheek, you cup your Katsuki’s arm instead as it trails gingerly down the neck, stopping at your collar, until you force it down its path more towards your chest, and lower. 

His touch carries very little pressure. Rather, you see him just watching his own movements in a haze- "Pretty, pretty girl."

A thought crosses your mind and you feel confident; if you voice it, he’ll answer you honestly. 

"Have you never dated anyone before, ‘Dynamight’?"

Without an immediate defense, you're happy to see he’s still letting you guide his hand to slide under your shirt collar and sift along your bra line. 

Unphased, he answers a gentle -but surprising- ‘no’.

"No high school crushes?" you press, flattered.

"Tch, I went to UA. When would I have had time for that?" Bakugou slides your strap and shirt more to the side as he explores, then kisses the shoulder.

Breathy, you challenge after your happy hums. “Kirishima did..."

He only gave a bemused scoff.

“And look where that got him. Is he anywhere close to being #1?" asks the #5 ranked Pro Hero.

"No,"

Bakugou’s gloved palms have successfully reached your breasts, pulling the rest up and off with confidence now, eyeing over your skin deliciously. 

"Guess who is?"

"Y-you~"

"Damn right." Bakugou licks and teases around the space your nipple would lie under the cup, "And y’know how I did it?"

Sights locked onto him, pulling other side down to sift your underclothes up to his gloved hand's touch.

"I'm a fast learner. That's how you get to be the best. Learn fast, do it right. Gets you results at the top of the board. I'm damn good at learning something I want; 'specially when that something's you."

You can’t keep quiet now. Not at this, your forever favorite Pro Hero undressing you with eyes and hands, 

"Ugh God..."

His hands pawed at every bit of you.

"Name's Katsuki, Angel Eyes. But I'll answer to that if you want~"

Your sexy laugh turned to a moan as he sucked hard at your neck to please you, then worked on getting himself fully topless to match. Once laid back with a delightful little jiggle of everything wonderful, Bakugo's sight lay fixed on you, hands running everywhere he could reach now. 

For once, he looked a little scattered, unsure what to do next besides pet you and breathe.

You teased a leg up his, and tried prying his hard shell open again, "There's no wrong way to play, y'know~"

"Heh?"

"You look like you're working-" you rubbed your own tits, a handful each, "-trying to figure out your next move. But really, there's no bad option. It's just me."

Understanding, he nodded, but still looked conflicted.

"And I don't bite, promise~" you tried for levity, finally making him chuckle a little and bring life to his smirk.

"Y'might as well, looking at me like that."

"What, this?" you kneaded and pushed your tits together.

"Fuck, me..."

"S'what I'm saying."

Then in a sweet move, Bakugou pulls you up to cradle you by your jawline and kisses you lovingly, then holds your foreheads in place while he takes a couple practiced inhales. 

Beneath you, you see how excited he is, but also how tense his core has become. It ever so barely trembles.

A muted string of a confession leaves him, 

"I talk big shit... but... never done this part." –this part being sex, you now gather- "Sue me if I'm tryna do right by you. I- feels like my heart's literally goin’ a mile a minute here, what the hell..."

"Mine too~" you run a soothing drag of your nails up his arms before smoothing up and over to his waist, "You are doing right by me, though~ just go with what feels right. I just want you, Kats."

"Yeah?"

"I want you,” you assure him with charged-up love and desire for him, “-so bad."

That was seemingly all he needed to clear his head because he fell right down to you, crawling beside you and scooping you up into his arms where he could trail his hand all up the expanse of your back. Somewhere in there, he slipped off your pants and took the chance to feel all up and down your legs with greedy chuckles.

He'd moan what a gorgeous sight and gentle thing you were, his mouth leaving no limb untouched or unpraised. He's also high on the attention you gave him right back, especially when you tipped him onto his back and kissed along the lines of his chest. Bruises and dips mark up his otherwise perfect skin, but you're pleased to have your Katsuki enjoying this if his sighs are any indication of his arousal. 

Bakugou quirks a brow as he settles back, preparing for you to mount and have your way with him. Consent is king and he doesn't wanna force you to be in a position you don't want.

“Y’want me here?” he asks with hands supporting your waist. “Show me how it's done?”

The sight below you has you ready to pass out on the spot. He’s handsome and horny and all yours.

"Ready when you are~" 

The line between Dynamight and the man behind the title is blurred as he settles into a cocky smirk. He's proud and never one to shy away from attention- not even this, so it seems. 

Bakugou chips his chin up at you with his full support. 

"Atta girl~" 

You whimper when you grind on top of him at first: not simply at how hot the first pass is for you after so long, but how wrecked Bakugou looks as he exhales with force. It's an effort to will himself still, and you love the look of it on him. 

Pride surges in you as you sway yourself over him, checking him over and making sure he's comfortable. 

“You got me?”

His sights open again, to you in all your glory. Any edge he carries in his waking hours is gone as he's let comfort and ease take the wheel over his nervous system. 

Bakugou is pretty damn adorable this way, but you'd only ever say so when he's fully confident- not out on a limb trying something this new with you for the first time. Here, you'd build up his confidence and see how he rises to the challenge. But you’ll go slow, above all else.

Fingers find renewed life as he squeezes you,

“I got you,” he says in wonder, getting there, “I gotcha." 

But right before you lifted up to let him shove his waistline down, he stopped you from sitting with a hard hand at your tummy. In a quick switch, he's cursing nervously about needing to wrap it up. 

Before he could toss you off, you brought his face back to you with a tender hand, keeping him from getting up altogether and bolting for his bag slung somewhere in the kitchen. 

"I'm covered on that front, hon,” you stifle any laughing at his earnest pursuit, “Planned a bit ahead- got in with the nurse a few months back."

Bakugou stills, but then his confusion and concern give way to something deeper. He’s looking at you, awed. 

"You're on it-?"

"Mhm. I'm all set, baby. There's no one else, just– just you. I won't stop ya if you'd feel better with one on, just wanted you to know. " 

Fondness for the hero-turned-friend-turned-lover made you rake your fingers through that mess of blond hair you daydream of petting and bringing out a groan from him all by yourself, 

"However you want me: inside or out~"

Recognition heats him up more, "You sexy, fuckin' girl..."

Catching you back in his arms, Bakugou falls in love all over again. He’s sinking into you sideways, hiking your leg up and over his hip and just holding you close– your man is all in for this the moment he's submerged in you.

"FUUUUUuuuuuck yehehehess…”

You're overwhelmed and giddy and full, and find that it's not just you who's laughing by the time you make eye contact. It's thrilling and perfect that you're here -doing it- and you’re obsessed with how close you two are in this moment that it makes your relief palpable and light-hearted. 

After heated kisses to get him to actually start moving, you're turning every laugh into a love-filled moan: a sound that Bakugo chases with everything in him. 

Eventually the momentum is like a run, fueling him with the more he hears, and is soon tipping you back to settle on top himself-- in charge and letting you take backseat. By how you gawk up at the show of strength, it’s more than alright with you~

"Oh my God, yes sir!!" you squeal seeing him in charge.

"Yeah? Like this, pretty girl?” Bakugou is in his element, despite having just joined the party moments ago, “Y’like your ‘Backpack’ on top, makin sure you don't move a fuckin’ muscle?"

Each huff and moan he makes glues your sights to the spot- head dipping to where you are slamming together, which only makes him ramp it up even more to give you a show.

‘Yeah yeah yeah-- oh FUCK, why haven't I gotten my head out of my ass sooner, you are FUCKING incredible!--’

The sounds Bakugou’s making are passionate and raw, even more so as you're close and you tell him so through near tears. You’re about to cum, embarrassingly fast for you- but then why wouldn't you when the sight of the love of your life is rocking your world off its hinges and sending you into the best headspin?

"Do it baby, do it do it do it~" he growls the freedom deliciously to you– so you will your hand to let go of the comforter and start rubbing your clit wildly to get you over the edge, till you're bucking up and siezing through relieved sobs. 

Bakugou almost damn near chokes on his own shock at the feel, yet only slows a little bit while he holds you down, holds you through it. Once you’re reaching up for his shoulders again -your cue that you're ok and settled - he dives down to your level for some hard kisses as a reward.

Somehow he breaks from the haze of you deliriously giggling for him soon enough, gasping out  desperate lines that nearly made your heart explode– all while going right back to fighting like mad to go over the edge like you did.

“Fuck, I love you.. fuck, I love you, fuck fuck fuck–”

The closer he gets, the hand pinning yours to the bed starts to burn– which takes your attention.

From watching him fuck you to check your joined wrists is more urgent: Bakugou’s forearm is trembling and visibly sweating all down to the cuff absorbing the rest.

Pretty much sobered you right up by the incoming pain, you're surprised, but you fake it in your bliss and rush him along anyway, until he cries out and shudders into your neck as he finishes– kissing it lightly in thanks muttering all sorts of nonsense you couldn't make out once he sinks onto you- spent.

“Fun, right baby?”

Bakugou’s grunting at every little move of his body.

“S’... M’dizzy,” he rasps, “S’it always dizzy?”

Under a spell yourself, unearth some spare sass n’ sweetness from your back pocket, 

“When it's good,” you give your valid opinion, your free hand making your mark along his arm to settle him down, “when they listen to what you need, n’ when they can provide- even before any clothes come off. I find it best that way, that is…”

Bakugou’s head lolls to the side, pressing a kiss to the tender space just in front of your ear.

“That it is…”

Your palm is pulsing. Hot. But still, you let him find rest, wondering more if he was ok since he was never EVER this gushy, but as his release turned into relieved laughs, Bakugou bridged over you to blow your hair back with a playful gust of his lips and gave you some more indulgent kisses. Sweet as ever, you kissed him back and pressed into his thumb working over your still joined hands.

"You like me~" you taunted.

"huh?~~”

"Y’said you loved me..."

Katsuki giggled, "Shuddup, dummy."

This prompted your tug to free your hand again, hissing when he released and revealed your palm: tinged with an onset of a blister, splotchy with heat–

"THE FUCK??!!” Bakugou noticed the damage himself, “DAMMIT, why didn't you SAY I was cooking you alive??" 

At his apology ridden eyes, you didn't want this hiccup to stall the moment you'd just shared. Flexing each of your hands easily, you shook off any look of pain and beamed up at him instead. 

"You weren't! It just got a lil hot~" he looked at your face again, confused as to why you're not upset at his repeat offense, "BBQ, amiright?" 

Your no-longer sweetheart growls down at you, textbook Bakugou BiteTM.  "NOT. funny." 

You laughed at the nature of it all. 

"I'm ok, baby. Whew... Oh my God~"

Your relief is something fuzzy and delighted to you, but knowing how your darling Katsuki gets in his own head about how fiery his quirk can be, you give him a little wink to quell any fears. 

It works, as your assurances always do. He admires your sated bones and lays another sloppy smooch on you. A silent promise; he’ll take a look at your hand in a bit. 

In moving up your body to reach his shirt to wipe himself with, he slipped out, still hot and heavy (given that he came already) and undeniably turned on- even in this state. You cringed at the mess hitting the cooler air. Hearing your complaint, Bakugou pecked your cheek and nuzzled you back adoringly. 

"Love you, angel.”

"I love you too~" your easy reply passes your lips wistfully.

A dry ache in his chest, he made to rise and see about getting you two a little more comfortable, feeling that same wetness too and grumbled about washing his damn hands, but you stopped him with a little whine.

"Stay~~" 

Crimson eyes softening to yours, the boyish charm returns to Bakugou’s otherwise stoic demeanor. It's a sign he’s clearly plagued in an afterglow buzz.

"Cmon, lemme clean us up. I need the fan on." 

Even colder? Darn his body temp. "Nnng.." 

He gets up anyway, but promises his return with a chip to your chin, "I'll stay, gorgeous. Told you so. I'll stay as long as you want tonight." 

When he came back with the wet washcloth, he coaxed you to stand on your own and go take care of yourself, too. The top sheet is changed and re-tucked in before you got back– mismatched from what remained on the bed before, but you didn't really care. 

He’s made himself comfortable in the bed, only slipping on his boxers you can barely catch the edge of from the sheet in his lap. It’s only made you fold all over again- proof that your boyfriend knows where you keep your spare sheets in the first place. 

You slipped on a fresh pair of panties in your pit stop, but went hunting for your loose shirt again, not bothering with anything under. This got Bakugo's attention seems,

"What, you cold?"

"Little bit~"

"M’over here, then," he patted his chest, you joined him, only to have him sneak his arm under your shirt and tease your tits again, "Don't see why you need this shitty thing while I'm around, just gettin' in my way.."

Giggling and sinking into him, you couldn't fault him. He did have to stay gloved for so long earlier. You laid a kiss straight on his cheek while he had his fill of you.

"Happy girl?" he sings down to you.

Happy girl indeed. "Mhm~ Happy Murder God?"

"Heh-yeah,” Bakugou schooled his breaths to sync to you, “I could get used to this."

"We'll figure out the glove thing."

"...M'sorry for almost toasting you.”

“Eh- I can handle a little snap-crackle-pop.”

Bakugou snorts, tapping out the jingle beat for ‘rice crispies’ on your shoulder. All's forgiven on that front. 

“Really shoulda thrown those in the washer," he grimaced above you, looking over at the door where he set them back with his riding gear. 

"We'll get it later," You snuggled down in his arms, happy to take his leftover heat. “Washer’s all yours~”

"Yeah. Yours is better than mine anyway,” Bakugou leans his head fully back onto your propped up pillows. A contented sigh forces the rest of his muscles to lax. “--piece of crap rattles like it's about to blow up. Yer dishwasher’s better too.”

As he chatters away, he played with the ends of your hair absently. 

“I thought you were my dishwasher?”

Bakugou pauses his twirls, “Oi, I never said I was signing up for that! I was bein’ nice.”

“Yes, you were~” you kissed his neck to force his rising growl down. Works every time. You're back to snuggling in his arms with a contented sigh. “I’ll do them next time.”

“If you’re fast enough, slowpoke, then sure.”

You can barely make out your washer thrumming in the next room as well as the even more distant smooth jazz channel streaming from the living room, but remembered your earlier mindset and just hugged him tighter.

This, you'd certainly miss when he went home tonight. Feeling this close, this warm together, having shared something really special and intimate that you couldn't take back for the life of you. It might make things even worse when it comes to your attachment to him– you two are pushing it at the agency with minimal touches unless there's something really scary that forces his walls down in order to comfort you- or vice versa. After all, your affinity for one another is no one’s business but your own… but you typically are satisfied by his more public ties to you in all the ways that matter- mostly to others in your circle and strangers who he threatens to kick if they keep starin’ at you.

But here, Katsuki holding you is second nature. His true nature. He tells you he cares with every returned text, knowing look, and tender touch he keeps limited in shared company- with you as the sole recipient. 

You can only wish this could be your life everyday. Where you can maybe even start your own agency down the line somewhere; Japan’s first true power couple who can take names like none other. Launch yourselves higher and higher, work yourselves out of a job, and take a retirement in whatever way looks best for you–

When you get quiet in your thoughts, he even knows your 'hiding' tell. Your pillow tilts down to try and get your attention, finally demanding your eyes with a question laced with clear thinking,

"You meant stay stay,” Bakugou asked gently, “-didn't you. Not just- for the night.” 

You softened… nodding ever so much. Leaving room, in case he didn't agree.

What you wouldn't give for him to be your meal prep partner till you both retire from hero work- and then some.

Either nothing went through his mind, or one singular anthem bounced around in there, because all Bakugou did to your little melting expression was kiss you softly, turning you back into the bed, and flopping solidly on top of your chest.

"...gimme 30 minutes. Then let's go get my shit. I call the front room work table."

You're over the moon, and your jaw drops on its own. He’s so ready- barely even thought it through! Or maybe… he was always thinking of it, and was waiting on you.

With that excitement flooding you, you peppered his hair full of kisses until he groaned for you to stop– only after the first ten...

[yunhoex]

rowdy — smg (m.)

pairing ⇢ mingi x reader

summary ⇢ surprising Mingi with a visit on his birthday might just be the highlight of your vacation.

genre/au ⇢ smut, idk what they are lol

rating & word count ⇢ 18+ | 1.7k

warnings ⇢ making out, cowgirl (obvs), groping, fellatio, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy tendencies?, spanking, breast play

a/n: happiest 25th to the menace of my life 😩 i can’t believe he’s my first post here when he’s not my bias like fawk i saw him yesterday irl so nice to meet y’all ;)

birthdays are Mingi’s thing, not yours.

so he thought he was hallucinating when he sees you standing by the door, a huge smile on your face and open arms dangling with gifts.

“hi!”

you ran up to him, hugging him after which he reciprocated with a tighter one. he only released you after realizing you’re really here with him on his special day.

“you flew all the way here for this?” he wonders as he approaches a nearby chair to sit down. he removes his sunglasses as he waits for you to place the fancy paper bags on the carpeted floor.

you follow Mingi as soon as you're done, sitting on his lap and his hands wrapped around your waist like second nature.

“no, i was visiting someone nearby” you reply nonchalantly, placing your arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing them lightly as you position yourself on his lap.

“who?” his hands pause from caressing your sides, eyes averting as his hand slithers down and palms your bare thigh.

he's debating if he wants to know or not. finally looking up at you, he raises one brow and you do the same.

“does it even matter? i’m here to celebrate your birthday” you dismiss his question, removing his cowboy hat before leaving a peck on the lips. you’d hope Mingi would let it go but his hand comes up to cup your jaw, returning your lips to his.

he bites your lower lip, coaxing you to let him in so you do. you never really kiss him like this but there seems to be an urgency with how his lips are capturing yours right now.

the questions start lingering in your mind but it’s his day so you’re gonna let him do whatever he wants.

“mhmm so how are we gonna celebrate?” he asks gruffly, his lips moving down the column of your neck, teeth busy nipping your skin while his hands are touching you everywhere.

you tend not to care about this type of thing so Mingi admits he's a little touched that you decided to visit him. though a part of him wonders who you could be visiting, he didn't dare press on in case your mood changes.

you’re quite rowdy, but he loves that about you regardless.

maybe Mingi's just overthinking because you could really be visiting a friend or a family member. why is he worried anyways? his getting anxious over this "what if it's someone else?" question and it's starting to bother him more than it should.

no matter, Mingi will just prove to you that he's better and that he's the best part of your visit here.

"how do you want me to?" you tease, giggling when his hot breath tickles your skin.

"you're here to surprise me right?" he counters, his husky voice now deeper than it usually is, sending tingles down to your pulsating core.

seeing him in that black fitted shirt and cowboy hat made you wet as soon as you arrived.

"well, you're already wearing my fave.." you ignore his remark, choosing to play with him a little bit more. this Mingi’s quite rare since he usually takes the reins. you’re taking advantage of the upper hand through this surprise.

his reaction earlier was undeniably clear so he couldn't possibly chosen this fit because you're coming.

“which one? i’m have most of them”

your breath hitches when his fingers switch to play on the tassels of your tube leather top. it’s a mere habit of his, unconsciously poking anything that attracts his eye and it’s affecting you a lot.

or maybe it’s cause you missed him a bit.

“hmm, this one” you give him a faux innocent smile, grabbing his belt and Mingi tries to suppress his excitement as he watches you unbuckling his pants.

you got off his lap so Mingi could pull down his denim pants and boxers, just enough to release his already swollen cock. it springs up towards his black shirt and you're salivating, kneeling between his legs at once to take it in your mouth.

“shiit, i miss your mouth baby” he groans, one hand coming down to grab your head. you hollow your cheeks, pushing your head deeper until his tip reaches the back of your throat. it had Mingi unconsciously bucking his hips, wanting for more.

you wanted to suck him off longer but you're honestly desperate to have his dick in your pussy.  you're enjoying your view, eyes fixed on Mingi struggling even though you're in the same boat. his breath heavies, a sign that he's close and usually you'd swallow but you have different plans for him tonight.

releasing him, you got up from your knees and shimmied your denim skirt and undies before returning to his lap.

"w-wait, already?" he responded hoarsely, mind too fogged to process what’s going on with his nearing climax. he’s not even gonna complain that you just edged him. he secretly likes it and he's sure you know how much he does at this point.

"yeah, can't wait anymore" you whine impatiently in Mingi's ear which causes a shiver through his spine. he's dazed, he always is each time he hears your seductive voice. he can’t even respond properly until he feels your wet pussy walls envelop him.

“fuck, you’re amazing” he breathes out before hurriedly pulling down your top. it took him a while due to it being tight on your body so you ended up chuckling, finding him cute.

you'd expect Mingi to curse in frustration but he latches his mouth on your breasts, turning your laughter into a series of breathy moans.

“mingi..” you clutch his shoulders as you begin rolling your hips. it's a struggle when he constantly kneads your tits with his large hands, tweaking the nipple that's not under his tongue. when he's somehow satisfied, he releases them and leans back at the chair, moving one hand down to your waist to guide your pace.

"what a fucking view..." he whistles, giving your ass a quick slap but he's groaning right after when you clench around his dick.

he's just too hot and the sting from his palm encourages you to bounce faster on his cock. his eyes remain on yours unless he's looking down to where your pussy's greedily sucking him in.

before you can even think of a response, Mingi's other hand crawls up from your chest towards the bottom of your neck, pressing lightly before wrapping his ringed fingers around your throat.

airy whines that were coming off from your mouth are cut of and Mingi thinks you look adorable like this. now that you're back to being putty under his hands, he's contemplating to ask his question again. he could edge you to get his answers but there's something stopping him.

he doesn't wanna find out though.

there's something different in Mingi tonight. aside from how he's looking at you, his touches are needier than usual. it could've been that he misses you but there seems to be an underlying worry there too. eventually, his fingers start loosening their hold around your throat so you take the chance to lean in closer.

leaving kisses along Mingi's jawline, your lips ascending until they reach his ear.

"cum inside me, baby" you whisper and he freezes, your words knocking out his breath.

"fuck for real?" he almost shouts, eyes widening until you nod, nuzzling his neck as you giggle again. he's still processing your words, not believing that you wanted him to finish inside you. both of you have been very careful since the beginning, always wearing protection each time you have sex so obviously, this is a big deal.

this must be your other surprise then and Mingi's gonna show you how thankful he is.

suddenly, Mingi's back into action. both his hands grip your hips as he fastens his thrusts, bucking up to you so fast that you have to claw your nails on his shoulders for balance.

"oh fuck, mingi!" you almost scream cause Mingi found that soft spot inside you and keeps hitting it with precision. you're so close but so is he, sensing your need to cum when his hand snakes to rub circles on your throbbing clit.

and when that band in your lower abdomen erupts, you collapse on top of him, resting your forehead against his as he reaches his own.

"holyshit babe, i'm cumming, ugh.." he warns then he bites his lower lip, dropping his head on the crook of your neck after as warm spurts of his cum fills you up.

“happy birthday.. mingi...” you greet him breathlessly as he continues rolling you on his softening cock. his ringed hands come down, groping your ass and you couldn't hold in more of your whines.

“best gift, best birthday gift, fuck” he whispers against your skin repeatedly, matching your moans when oversensitivity takes over both of your senses. you try pulling back so you get off him but he refuses to let go despite the slight sting of overstimulation.

still stubborn.

you huff but threaded your fingers along Mingi's hair instead, calming the both of you down from your highs.

"you're welcome" you smile at him brightly when you finally manage to pry his mouth from leaving wet kisses along your collarbone.

"come sleep in my room" he pouts, not even bothering to look at you.

"can't, my flight's in a few hours" you match his pout but you see his lips forming into a frown. he's so adorable when he sulks that you can't help but relent.

"but maybe, i can rest for a bit" you continue, realizing that you don't really wanna make Mingi sad on his day.

"okay, i'll order some food. actually whatever you want!" his smile is back, enthusiasm coursing back into his veins after hearing that you'll stay. sure, probably only for a few hours but that's enough for Mingi to make up for the time that you missed together due to your busy schedules.

"aren't you supposed to be celebrating with everyone?" you query, redressing quickly so you won't waste any free time you have with him.

"already did so now it's only with you" he curls his arm around your waist, putting back his cowboy hat and sunglasses on with his other hand.

the smirk on Mingi's handsome face should tell you that this night's far from over. well, it's still his birthday so he'll continue to celebrate until it's over. maybe even after if he gets lucky, he'll just make sure that he will be your last stop.

e/n: this is unedited since i'm tryna post this within his birthday and i'm recovering rn oml. the concert def helped for inspo 😩so i hope y'all still like this tho!! <3

[bluebeary-jay]

clouded judgment / clear mind

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: it was a long time since Joel had felt a maddening rage like this, but he weren't about to let anyone who dares to hurt you get away with it (based on this ask)

Tags: Joel goes apeshit, angst, a bit of comfort at the end, established relationship, protective Joel (REALLY protective lmao), basically he goes feral

Warnings: uh. VERY graphic descriptions of violence (I'm not good at writing action sequences but it is graphic), swearing, kinda torturing 😬

Word count: 4.5K

A/N: this one was really challenging, but i hope yall will like what i came up with :) i really didn't expect it to be so difficult to write buuut i tried to focus on the "giving-his-brother-nightmares" side of Joel and i think i succeeded. anyway !!! happy reading ❤️

He should have never left you alone.

Which was a ridiculous thought, of course, because how are you supposed to patrol efficiently if the other person refuses to leave your side even for a moment? Besides, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t trust you – he saw multiple times what you were capable of first-hand and he knew you were able to take care of yourself.

He put it forward once – to not split up and patrol the same area within the eyeshot of each other. You sent him a crooked smile at that, saying something about him being a little too overprotective before you gave him a kiss and went on your merry way, leaving him alone and slightly annoyed (but with a faint, stupid grin on his face).

So he tried to rein in this ‘overprotectiveness’ you mentioned. He never brought it up again, even though a cold shiver ran up his spine every time he lost sight of you beyond the safe walls of Jackson. Each time you two went on a patrol, he had to take a second to calm down and remind himself this is not one of his dreams when he loses you.

That’s why at first, when he heard your voice screaming his name from a distance, he wasn’t sure if it was really happening.

The instinct, however, kicked in the next second and he rushed back to where he saw you last, to the interior of a resort around which he was scouting. This was supposed to be one of the safest options for patrolling – no one ever saw any signs of life here besides occasional infected, and Joel was never that worried when you went inside alone to check the place.

He had a feeling his cautious (he really didn’t want to call it ‘overprotective’) nature was gonna become a nuisance again after this incident.

The goddamn downpour outside made listening for any noises aggravatingly difficult. Joel yelled for you, but he didn’t hear any answer and the driving rain beating against the windows of the resort absorbed all the sounds.

He made his way inside the building and up the stairs when he noticed your hat lying discarded against the wall. A wave of ice-cold dread washed over him. The stairway was dark but even with the little light he had he could see a couple of wet, almost black droplets on the dirty floor.

What he felt next reminded him of falling asleep – his shoulders relaxed and from head to toe a cool, silent equilibrium crept over him. Joel gripped his rifle firmly and pushed on soundlessly. It didn’t seem like you were stabbed or shot – there would be much more blood present – but you were hurt. Someone must’ve laid in wait to ambush you, and now…

It didn’t matter. Whoever it was, they made a grave mistake.

Joel reached the second floor, listening intently for any clues as to where you might be or how many people are in the building with him, but he didn’t even have to check the rooms one by one. A faint light, which couldn't have been left by the previous patrol, was spilling out from underneath the doors at the far end of the corridor . He did consider the possibility that it was a decoy and your attacker was hiding in one of the other rooms, but the closer he got to the sliver of light on the dusty floor, and the more doors he passed, it became clear that whoever got you, they weren’t that cunning.

And then he heard it. A sound of a blow from the other side of the door, and then a strangled cry.

It was you. Your voice.

Joel took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and kicked the door open, bursting into the room with his rifle held high – only to find himself surrounded by six men, five of whom were holding him at gunpoint.

The sixth one, a ragged-looking blond, stood over you and the second he saw Joel, he grabbed you by the hair and pressed a knife against your neck, making both you and Joel freeze.

“You’re from this town nearby, right?” asked the man with a heavy accent Joel couldn’t place. “The one that fucking shoots off any newcomers.”

Joel didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at this man. All he could see was your bruised and battered face and the blood running freely from your – probably broken – nose and down your chin. You had a black eye and a split brow, but your gaze was sharp and alert when you looked back at him.

He felt like his insides were boiling.

“Hey, dickhead!” the leader of the group yelled, gripping your hair tighter and making you hiss in pain. “You deaf or something?”

Joel finally managed to take his eyes off you – your blood and your bruises, and the concealed fear on your face – and glared at the man standing over you. His jaw was clenched and nostrils flaring, but he quickly collected himself. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him when you were in danger.

He lifted his hands slowly, showing that he was no threat to them. The thug tilted his head at one of his friends.

“Put down your gun and slide it over.”

Joel watched you following his movements with your eyes as he carefully put his rifle down and kicked it in the direction of one of the men. The blond holding the knife nodded twice.

“Now. You two are from the town, aren’tcha?”

“Let her go,” said Joel, trying to remain calm and not use – quoting Ellie – his ‘asshole voice’. “Then we’ll talk.”

The man shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh, no, no.” He pressed the blade harder against your throat. “We have the upper hand here. You understand?”

The man was looking at him expectantly but Joel’s eyes were nailed on the trickle of blood now running down the column of your neck. He remembered kissing that same neck this morning and tickling it with his nose, and the thought of this fucking bastard cutting your soft skin and leaving such a mark on it made him feel like he was about to burst.

“Fine,” he ground out with his jaw set. He looked over at the leader of the group. “What do you want?”

Had any of them been smarter, they would have picked up a dangerous note in his voice. But just like he suspected, they weren’t that bright.

“You go back to your town and bring five more horses here,” said the blond.  “And ammo. My buddy here,” he used his chin to point at another guy, standing behind Joel, “will tell you what kind. You try anything or come back with someone else, and I’ll slit her throat right open.”

“She will go get that shit for you and I will stay,” Joel negotiated strongly, but the leader of the group shook his head again.

“No. No way. You go and bring back everything we ask for, and I’ll let your little friend go.”

Joel’s eyes once again shifted to your form and something inside his chest twitched. You noticed it – of course you did, you were always able to read him like no one else – and tried to offer him a half smile.

“I’ll be fine, Joel,” you reassured him. “Nothing I haven’t–”

“Shut your trap!” The shorter man standing to your right yelled and raised his hand, making you flinch.

Joel could almost feel fire burning in his veins and through his skin, peeling it off his bones.

“Hey! There’s no need for that!” he said louder, taking a step forward, but the gang lifted their guns higher. He stopped and spread his arms wider. “I’ll get you the stuff you want. Just leave her alone.”

“You better hurry, then,” said the blond with a nasty smile, and Joel nodded while trying not to look too desperate. He looked at his friend. “Tell him what we need.”

Joel didn’t give a shit what they were saying – it was him who needed to think of something, and fast. He had a suspicion as to who these men were – he heard from Tommy about a larger group trying to gain entry to Jackson several times. Apparently they threatened the patrol which found them when they were denied permission to join their community. It was before Joel came to the small town for the first time with you and Ellie, but the word around was that any rogue group around this terrains wasn’t to be trusted.

And everything from the description Tommy gave him fit: ragged looks, traveling on foot, low on ammunition.

While one of the men listed what kind of guns they had and how much supplies they wanted, a motion in Joel’s field of vision caught his attention and his eyes darted to you – or more specifically, to your left hand.

You stared right back at him, moving your fingers slightly so the others didn’t notice.

N… O… A… M…

No ammo.

None? That’s probably why the one standing next to you wasn’t holding you at gunpoint but with a knife to the throat. The rest of them must’ve had their pistols drawn just for show. Joel had no idea how you figured it out, but a thought struck him and he surveyed the members of the group. He remembered which one held onto his rifle, but you were armed, too…

As if reading his mind, your fingers started to twitch again the second he looked back at you.

U... Left… B, E, H, I…

Suddenly the man to your right bowed over you again and punched you square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarled with contempt and glared back at Joel. “No funny games, you hear me? You come back with a gun or anyone else, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill her, man.”

Joel’s heart was pounding in his chest. All he could see was your face contorted in pain, all he could hear were your coughs and grunts.

Two of the men came forward – the one on his left had a loaded gun from what you managed to convey to him in sign language – and pushed him towards the exit. Joel shifted his icy stare at the man standing next to him, and then at the two situated near you.

They were all going to die.

When he gets back, he’s going to kill every one last of them, and he’s going to enjoy it immensely.

Joel sent you one last look before turning around and slowly walking out of the room with both men close behind, pointing their guns (and only one of them loaded) at him.

It was going to be alright. He had a stirring of a plan and when he comes back, maybe with Tommy or someone else…

You gasped and coughed again behind his back after the sound of another punch.

Joel came to a dead stop, not registering the gun barrel digging into his back, and he felt like his jaw was going to snap if he kept clenching it like that.

You murmured something he didn’t quite catch and Joel turned his head slightly just in time to see the short man kicking you in the ribs and your form lying on the wooden floor, spitting out blood…

“You think you’re so clever, huh? I swear to fucking god, if you pull something like that again…”

Joel didn’t even let the man finish.

In a split second he elbowed the man behind him, grabbing his hand holding the gun – the one they took from you – and shooting the blond standing over you. He fell backwards and the knife fell out of his grip. Taking out the guy Joel grappled with was embarrassingly easy, and once he had a good grip on the pistol belonging to you, he spun around to face the other thug with his gun, standing on the opposite side of the room.

The ragged man fired at him, but Joel didn’t even need to duck, for the bullet missed him by half a meter at least. The man was lying dead soon after, shot twice in the head, and the remaining three took out their weapons, ready for a fight.

None of them reached for Joel’s rifle, lying under their friend’s corpse.

“That’s even better,” he murmured to himself, unloading the gun and throwing it against the far wall.

If looks could kill, they’d already be lying on the ground and writhing in agony. But Joel was more than happy to do it himself. And with his bare hands.

He strode with confidence to the nearest man who swung a machete at him. Joel avoided the attack and pushed him back, quickly darting to the side and decking the other man coming at him.

A sharp pain ripped through his body from the back of his arm when the third thug cut through his clothes. Joel blocked the second strike and twisted the opponent's arm, applying so much pressure that the bone in the forearm snapped and the man’s scream pierced the air.

He lurched back to dodge the machete aimed at his neck and picked up a knife dropped by the previous guy. He surged forward, driving the blade into the thigh of his current attacker, which made the other man lose his balance. Their friend, the last one still unharmed, managed to punch Joel’s jaw, making something crack and reverberate inside his skull, but he only wiped the blood from his face.

When the last thug came closer, Joel used his own momentum and grabbed the back of his skull, bringing the guy's face down onto his own knee. After that his movements were practically automatic when he grabbed the dazed man from behind and broke his neck in a swift motion.

Breathing heavily, he made his way to the first man he knocked out and took your gun from, picking up the machete en route. That son of a bitch wasn’t even conscious, but it didn’t stop Joel from bringing the weapon down and through his head.

The next one was the bastard with the broken arm, but his screams quickly died away when he, too, received a deep and lethal wound from Joel – this time aimed at his chest, almost cutting it open.

Your yelp ripped through the roar of blood in his ears and Joel turned around just in time to see the blond he shot in the shoulder sitting on top of you, trying to stab you with his knife. You managed to dodge it and before that idiot could try again, Joel came up to you both, grabbed the man’s hair and all but threw him off of you and onto the floor.

The blond was still holding the weapon in his hand, but didn’t get another chance to use it – with all his strength Joel brought the heel of his heavy boot down on the injured man's fingers. The man screamed when the satisfying crunch of the bones in his hand breaking echoed throughout the room and Joel couldn't hide a smirk.

He deserved it. All of them deserved it.

He again saw before his eyes the way this motherfucker kicked you and how his friend threatened to cut your throat. Again he saw red.

“You piece of shit,” Joel whispered, still blinded by rage, and gave the man a taste of his own medicine by kicking him in the stomach as hard as he could. The bastard coughed and yelled in pain but it wasn’t enough.

Joel’s focus was sharp and clear when he stood over the battered and bleeding man, staring down at him with hatred. He thought the blond tried to say something – his lips were certainly moving – but he didn’t concern himself with any begging or threats the thug had to offer. Instead he gripped the front of his sweater and punched him in the jaw, letting the limp body fall to the floor and relishing in the sounds of his curses, his grunts of pain, his blood dripping onto the floor…

Not enough.

Joel did that several more times – grabbing the idiot’s clothes, hair, whatever – to pull him up and hit him in the jaw, temple, nose and wherever else his fist landed. The face of the man was bloodied and he was barely conscious at this point and still all Joel could see was the look of sadistic glee on this man's face after finding an excuse to hurt you.

Joel didn’t have much strength anymore, but he ignored the biting pain from the cut on his arm and the raw wounds on his bloody knuckles, and straddled the lying man. The survival instinct must've kicked in and the blond started to tussle, reaching with his not-broken fingers to Joel’s face, scratching his brow and cheek.

And just like the glee he saw in the thug’s eyes earlier, Joel was more than happy that he gave him an excuse – and an idea – how to hurt him more.

“I saw how you looked at her,” he said in a low tone to the unlucky man, holding his left arm in place with his knee and pressing his own thumb to that fucker's swollen eye. “You like hearin’ people screamin’ in pain? Because I just know this is going to bring me great joy.”

Blood was flowing from under Joel’s finger and down his hand when he gouged the blond’s eye out and the man was shrieking. He was writhing and struggling under Joel's weight, and his voice became guttural and hoarse soon after when the dark blood started to flood his mouth. Joel pulled his hand away, panting heavily, and soaked in the suffering of that bastard whose face now resembled a smashed, bloody goo.

Not enough.

It was unfortunate that the blond was the only one left Joel could take it out on, but he couldn’t find any compassion in himself at the moment. So he punched him again, staining the floor with the scumbug's blood.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“Joel.”

Joel turned around sharply, grasping the thug’s knife. He could still feel rage churning inside of him and he was breathing heavily, trying to contain the fury filling him without screaming out loud. His hands were covered in blood – not his – and he subconsciously knew that the man lying motionlessly under him was long since dead, his face completely destroyed, but he wished that son of a bitch was still alive so that he could feel the suffering Joel longed to inflict upon him.

Everything because he hurt you.

You…

The ringing in his ears stopped suddenly and the knife fell out of his hand when he ran up to where you were still lying on the floor. You were curled up on your side with your arms wrapped protectively around your stomach and your face twisted in pain.

Joel’s breathing got quicker, now for an entirely different reason, when he noticed that the cut on your neck was bigger than he originally thought, and still bleeding. Your face was bruised and he knew your whole torso will probably turn green and purple soon, too.

“Oh, babygirl,” he whispered tenderly, his trembling hands hovering above your body, but not touching it. “It’s…” It’s alright, he wanted to say. Or maybe, where does it hurt the most?

He had trouble finding his voice, though. In his fury he completely forgot that you were still here and in need of his help.

You took a deep breath and turned your head ever so slightly to look at him in the corner of your eye. A sad smile appeared on your face.

“Hi, Joel.”

Joel breathed in. Out. In again.

For fuck’s sake, what was he thinking?

He quickly wiped the blood of the people he killed on his pants and cursed at himself mentally.

“Hi, darlin’,” he murmured in response, focusing back on you. “You’re gonna be alright. How are you feeling?”

“I think I might have a broken rib or two,” you breathed while Joel pulled out a clean piece of cloth he carried in his jacket for cases like this one and pressed it against the cut on the side of your neck. You winced and he felt a pang of pain in his own chest.

“Can I check?”

You let go of your stomach with a strangled gasp. Joel started to gently feel your torso, trying to discern if he could feel any broken bones or signs of internal bleeding. He kept his touch as delicate as he could, not wanting to hurt you even more, or worse – scare you.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, though, no matter how much he tried to calm his breathing. He wished he could hold you as securely as he held his gun, with a quiet heart and sharp focus, but the fear of accidentally hurting you made his fingertips recoil at times.

Although you two knew each other for years now, you were never a witness to this cruel side of him. You knew about it, of course, of horrible things he’s done before he got to Boston and met you. A couple of times you even saw with your own eyes snippets of these primary emotions of fear or anger overtaking Joel’s mind and body.

But never like that. Never with such ferocity, hatred and satisfaction from hurting those who did the same to you.

He just really didn’t want you to be afraid of him. You were so precious to him and often he thought those brutal hands of his, which he knew were guilty of inflicting unimaginable pain and suffering, weren't worthy of touching someone who in his eyes was so delicate and pure.

But it never stopped you from seeking his touch, and although Joel could be stubborn and tough at times, he didn’t have it in himself to ever refuse you anything – even when he knew better.

That was always the case. His judgment and mind were clouded when it came to you.

“I don’t think anythin’ is broken,” he finally said in a quiet voice, cupping your cheek gingerly and turning your head to look at it better. “But the nose probably is. How did it happen?”

“They jumped out on me in the hallway,” you answered, not meeting his eyes while he gently touched the base of your nose. Then you looked to the window against which the still pouring rain was beating. “One of them punched me when I shouted for you. I thought you might have not heard me.”

“I heard you,” he murmured and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You came for me pretty quickly, so–”

“Not that. M’sorry you had to see… this.”

To that, you didn't say anything. Joel felt his heart clenching on itself and almost stopping from the wave of terror that washed over him.

His treacherous mind was rushing him to defend his actions or make excuses – because if he doesn’t, if it turns out you’re scared of him and the things he’s capable of…

You might leave him. And if you leave, Joel won’t survive that.

But he didn’t give in to those cruel thoughts and silenced the voice in his head.

“I’d do it again,” he said quietly, making you lift your head. “In a heartbeat. I’m really sorry you had to see that, darlin’, but I… just know I’d never hurt you. And if I can help it, no one else will either.”

“Hey.” Your knuckles brushed his cheek and you looked at him with sad eyes. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I know you did it to protect me.”

“I wanted them to suffer,” he continued as if you didn’t say anything, but at the same time he soaked in the feeling of your soft touch on his face. “I don’t know how much you saw–”

“Joel.” You sat up with a wince after interrupting him, and your gaze turned sharp. “Why are you telling me this?”

Even though the bloody, battered mess that he made of the blond man seemed to push itself into Joel’s field of vision, he refused to look away from you.

“‘Cause you need to know. I feel like I’d be lyin’ to you if I didn’t explain that it wasn’t an accident or a one-time thing,” he answered, his eyes flickering from your neck to your face, and down to his own stained hands. “Couldn’t think of anythin’ else after I saw you like that, on the ground and…”

“Listen to me.” You took his head firmly in your hands and your gaze was unwavering – like you wanted to make sure that your every word will reach the depths of his soul. “I’ll say it again: you don’t need to explain. I get why you did that. And don’t even think you’re gonna drive me away because of that.”

You knew him too well. Sometimes it was slightly annoying, sometimes even scary.

This time, however, it felt reassuring.

You looked to the side where the body of his last victim lay, and Joel grimaced, gently touching the edge of your jaw and tilting it back to him. “Don’t look,” he whispered, realizing with surprise, as well as a horrible lump in his throat, that he felt almost ashamed.

Your bright eyes met his again and he briefly wondered if your gaze always was so scrutinizing.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said sternly, like always knowing what was going on in his head. “I'm not, so stop thinking that.” You shook him by the arm a little and when he didn’t answer, the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a teasing manner. “I’ve seen you multiple times in the morning. I know you’re secretly a big softie.”

Joel really didn’t deserve this kind of kindness and understanding from you. That didn’t stop him from craving it, though.

He didn't say anything – just leaned in and kissed your cheek tenderly, lingering there for a moment but paying attention not to brush your nose. You exhaled and closed your eyes, your eyelashes tickling his skin, and he decided not to drag this conversation on any longer.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart. I’ll help you up.”

He stood up and held out his hand. It was rough and covered in blood, but even after you saw what he did to those men and heard their screams, you didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Joel,” you said gravely after standing up. There was no trace of your previous smile on your face. “If you were the one in danger, I’d do the same thing.”

You were looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer, and after a couple of seconds he nodded slightly. Apparently it was good enough for you, because you just squeezed his hand and tugged him after you and out of the room.

Joel didn’t know if he believed you.

But your words made him feel calmer and cleared his clouded mind nonetheless.

[goosita]

I LOVE your writing I get so excited when you post! Could you write something about rivals taking Billy’s Girl and him going CRAZY till he gets her back? And then the comfort after that🥹

ooo ough oh my god he would go insane like i truly mean he would level an entire city for you if he had to

the moment he finds you in the back of the house, bound to a chair and gagged, his emotions begin a war inside of him. he’s so filled with rage that his hands shake and his teeth with ache in the morning from clenching them so hard. blood is splattered across his shirt, flecks drying on his cheek from the men he’d gunned down and fought just to get in here, and here you finally were.

he lost track of how many rounds he’d fired. all he knows is that he’d dropped several bodies. if he counted, he would realize he’d taken out the entire gang who had plotted to take you and hold you for ransom with the eventual goal to turn in the famous outlaw. there was no way in hell billy would ever let that happen; he’d lay his life down in a heartbeat to keep you safe and sound.

“baby,” he breathes, voice trembling. he rushes over and makes quick work of untying you, releasing the handkerchief tied around your mouth to keep you quiet.

“oh, baby i’m so sorry,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. he can feel you shaking like a leaf, but you hug him so tight he thinks his ribs might crack; not that he’d care anyway. “i should have been faster, i should have known sooner that you—“

“shhh, billy. i’m okay. i’m fine, you’re here,” you soothed, clinging to him. he can feel your fingers digging into his back hard enough to bruise. he hopes they do, honestly. he wants any mark you leave on him.

“m’gonna get you home, okay? never gonna let you out of my sight. never, you hear me?” he shrugs off his outer flannel shirt, dressing you in it and pulling you in again to press a long and lingering kiss to your forehead. billy keeps you tucked into his side, leading you to the front door.

“i need you to close your eyes, darlin’,” he says, stroking your hair. “don’t want you to see…any of this. okay?” he doesn’t want you to see any of the trail of gore he’s left. you’re too sweet, too innocent to ever be subjected to the sight of such violence.

you nod and squeeze your eyes shut, but as he leads you outside, the sharp metallic scent of blood hits your nose and you suddenly understand just why exactly he doesn’t want you to see. things had gotten very intense, you knew this. billy was a dangerous man. he had been since the day you met him, but it never bothered you. you weren’t even sure if it bothered you now, when he was so kind and gentle with you.

he helped you up onto his horse and climbed on behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and clicking his tongue to get the animal to turn and head the other direction. after a few minutes, you felt his nose nudge your shoulder.

“you still got those eyes closed?”

you nodded, leaning back into his chest even more.

“you can open ‘em now, pretty girl. nothing bad to see out here,” he promises, kissing your cheek. your eyes flutter open and the sky above is a deep navy blue, clouds just beginning to glow with the promise of a sunrise.

“never gonna let anything bad happen to you ever again, i promise. i’m so sorry,” he whispers. you shake your head and turn to glance up at him behind you. billy stops his horse and drops one of the reins, lifting his hand to hold your chin gently.

“it’s okay, billy. i’m okay. you got there just in time,” you assure him. your eyes scan his face, now noticing the dried blood in a splash pattern on billy’s jaw. the way his bright blue irises looked stormy still, the tension in his body still tight. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, his face softening.

he looked down at you for a long moment before dipping his head, resting his forehead against the back of your shoulder. your violent man, your outlaw, your gunslinger. william h. bonney, billy the kid, wasn’t afraid of anything. that’s what most people assumed; but he was terrified of anything happening to you, his sweet angel. his darling girl who kept him sane.

“billy?” you whispered. you felt him hum, his chest vibrating against your back. “take me home.”

and so he did.

[blackenedsnow]

Hello! Feel free to ignore this if you can't or wouldn't like to write it!

If it's not any trouble, could I request an Arthur Morgan x Asexual!Reader thing (one shot or headcanons, whatever fits better and/or is easier!), where there's like, mutual pining, but the reader speaks about their aversion to sex and lack of that sort of attraction, and how they think they're just never gonna have a meaningful romantic relationship because of this? Been feeling discouraged and sad about this, so yeah lmao.

And if the reader could be buff, it'd be awesome (no, I am not buff yet, but I will use this as inspiration to get there lol.

Anyways, tysm for taking the time to read this! Have a lovely day/night/afternoon!

heart stronger than flesh

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Arthur Morgan x Asexual! Reader

NOTE: I hope this gave you the encouragement you were looking for! Arthur's got your back, and so do I. You're going to reach those buff goals, one step at a time. Stay strong and know you're worthy of all the love and care in the world! Thank you so much for requesting this. Remember that love comes in many forms, and you deserve it as you are.

SUMMARY: Arthur has always admired you—your strength, your sharp wit, the way you stand tall in the middle of this messy world. He knows there’s something unspoken between you two, but neither of you has dared to name it. That is, until one evening when you finally confront your fears about the future.

The camp was quiet tonight, only the crackling of the fire filling the air as the rest of the gang slowly drifted off to sleep. You sat a little ways from the fire, resting on a fallen log, your muscles tense from the long day. Arthur sat nearby, the warmth of the firelight casting flickering shadows over his face as he quietly cleaned his gun. His usual frown softened whenever his eyes flickered your way, though he was trying to act like he wasn’t paying too much attention to you.

It had been this way for a while now. The unspoken tension between you two simmered just beneath the surface—an unacknowledged pining that neither of you knew how to handle. You weren’t blind to how he looked at you, especially after all the times you’d ridden into town together, his eyes lingering on the way your biceps flexed when you pulled the reins. He was always good at keeping it hidden, though, his cowboy façade of stoicism remaining intact. But tonight felt different. He kept glancing over at you more often than usual, his jaw clenched a little tighter.

You sighed and stretched your arms above your head, feeling your muscles strain under your skin. Even in the dim light, your physique was obvious—strong arms and broad shoulders earned through days of hard work and rough living. You were proud of the strength you'd built, but something else gnawed at you. The weight in your chest wasn’t from exhaustion.

You tried to brush the thought aside, but it came creeping back, like it always did.

Arthur noticed the shift in your expression. He finally broke the silence, his voice low and gravelly. “You alright?”

You hesitated, your fingers idly picking at the worn fabric of your pants. “Yeah. Just… got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

He nodded, putting down his gun and giving you his full attention now. He was quiet for a moment, waiting for you to speak. His eyes were soft, his usual guarded expression slipping as he looked at you with concern.

You shifted on the log, feeling the words at the back of your throat, but they were hard to spit out. How could you explain it? You weren’t shy about being tough, about fighting back against the world, but this? This was something different. Something more vulnerable.

“Arthur…” you started, not looking at him directly. “You ever… feel like you're not ever gonna have what other folks have? Like, love… romance?” You paused, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten. “I mean, I see people, how they are with each other. But for me… I don’t feel the same way they do.”

Arthur frowned slightly, not sure where you were going with this yet. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed hard, your hands tightening into fists in your lap. “I don’t… I don’t want the same things as most people. I don’t want—” You stopped, heart pounding, before forcing yourself to continue. “I don’t want sex, Arthur. I never have. Never felt that way. And it makes me feel like… like I'm gonna be enough. Not for anyone.”

Arthur was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, but there was no judgment in his eyes. Just understanding, like he was listening to every word you said with more focus than he gave most things in this world.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while now. About... us. I know there’s… something between us, but I’m scared it’ll never work because I can’t give you what most people expect in a relationship. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s fair to you.”

Arthur finally spoke, his voice low and calm. “You really think that’s all there is to love? To wantin’ someone?”

You blinked at him, surprised by his question.

“I’m serious,” he said, shifting forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned toward you. “You think I’m with you—care about you—just ‘cause of what I could get outta you physically?” He shook his head. “It ain’t like that. Not for me.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t care about that,” he continued. “Hell, I’ve been around enough folks to know what really matters. I care about *you*. I care about the way you carry yourself, the way you look after the people you care about, the way you get stronger every damn day.” His eyes softened even more. “You think I ain’t noticed how damn strong you’ve gotten, how you keep pushin’ yourself?”

Your heart skipped a beat as he spoke, and a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You had always prided yourself on your strength, but hearing it from him—hearing how he noticed and appreciated it—meant more than you could have expected.

“I’ve felt it too,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Somethin’ between us. I ain’t gonna pretend I know all the answers, but I know I care about you. And I don’t need anything else but you by my side.”

It was hard with the weight of your fears crashing into the relief his words brought.

Arthur, ever perceptive, reached out slowly, placing a calloused hand on your knee. It was a gentle touch—so different from the hardened man you were used to seeing in him.

“I ain’t here to push you,” he said softly. “You don’t ever have to be anything you’re not. I don’t expect you to change, and I sure as hell don’t think you’re any less for feelin’ the way you do.” He hesitated, squeezing your knee gently. “You’re more than enough. I promise you that.”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping your eyes quickly. “Arthur, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t gotta say anything,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Just know that you mean somethin’ to me. And I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

For the first time in a long while, the tight knot in your chest started to loosen. You weren’t used to feeling this kind of reassurance, and yet, here was Arthur Morgan—someone as rough as the life you both led—telling you that you were enough just as you were.

You looked down at his hand on your knee, then back up into his eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He smiled—just a small, fleeting thing, but it was real. “Anytime.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the fire crackling softly beside you, the night quiet and peaceful for once. And in that stillness, you felt a sense of calm settle in your bones.

You were strong—physically and emotionally. And with Arthur by your side, maybe you didn’t have to carry that weight alone.

[vivwritesfics]

I need rhett or jake to teach me how to ride a horse

I feel like you already sent me a jake one (which i wanna save for my princess au) so I've gone for Rhett (this could be read as Waiting For The Sun Reader but I'm not specifying)

Horses weren't supposed to be scary. Rhett had never thought so, but, then again, he'd grown up around them. His girl, though, she hadn't grown up around horses.

She looked so cute, in her jeans, white shirt (that said Cowboy Pillows over the tits), and his Stetson. Rhett wore one of his caps as he tacked up Pumpkin. Pumpkin, who acted like she didn't know him when he walked up in his cap. That was his lovely, overdramatic mare.

Her ears were pinned back as he brushed her back. "Seriously?" He asked and pulled his hat off, revealing who he was. She calmed down after that, ears moving forward as she realised it was his dad. "Are you gonna be nice for my girl?" He asked and fed her a treat.

Pumpkin snorted.

He placed her saddle on her back and cinched it. As soon the girth tightened around her belly, Pumpkin put her ears back went to bite him, but he just pushed her away.

She was all talk. Rhett knew she was gonna be the best girl for his girl. He placed his cap back on his head, grabbed her reins, and walked her out of the barn.

That was the thing about Pumpkin. As soon as she had her tack on, she was like another horse. She was calm, almost like she was high.

And there she was, thumbs hooked around her belt loops as she watched him with Pumpkin. Rhett sucked in a breath. He placed the reins over Pumpkins neck and walked towards her.

"Cowboy pillows, huh?" He asked as he grabbed her hips and pulled her into him.

She licked her lips, keeping on hand on the back of the Stetson as she looked up at him. "Yep," she said, popping the p. "You can lay on them once you teach me how to ride.

"Darlin', I already know you can ride."

She rolled her eyes, but kissed him anyway. "C'mon, introduce me to your noble steed."

Noble steed. Pumpkin had never been called that before. He took her hand and led her over to Pumpkin. Rhett was so calm and patient with her, telling her where to put her hands. He helped her get her foot into the stirrup (something he knew he'd have to adjust as soon as she was sitting) and helped to lift her into the saddle.

"Sit straight, Darlin'," he said as he took her foot from the stirrup and made them shorter. She did what she was told, sitting so pretty for him. Rhett held her leg as he placed the stirrup back on her foot and patted her knee.

He looked up at her. "Fuck, c'mere," he said and pulled her down to kiss him.

"Rhett!" She cried, slipping slightly. But he got her back into the saddle and passed her the reins to hold.

It was only her first time on a horse. Rhett led Pumpkin around the pasture as she sat there in the saddle. "You're doing so good, darlin'," he said to her. "My two girls together."

"Can we go faster?" She asked.

Rhett had her let go of the reins. He placed her hands on the pommel. "Just sit as best you can, Darlin'," he said and stepped back.

He waited until she gave him a walk before he began running. Well, it was more of a jog really, with Pumpkin trotting behind him. Periodically he looked back, make sure she was still with him and that she hadn't slipped from the saddle.

They slowed back to a walk and Rhett had her pick up the reins again. He had her walk back without his assistance, hands shoved into his pockets as Pumpkin followed her back to the barn.

As soon as they were there, Rhett helped her to jump down into his arms. "You did so good, pretty girl. A regular cowboy out there," he said, hands around her waist as he pulled her closer.

She swapped their hats, placing his Stetson on his head and his cap on hers. "You go take care of Pumpkin, and I'll get the cowboy pillows ready," she said, reaching back to unclasp her bra through her shirt.

(Welp now I wanna write a fic about Cowboy Pillows)

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part thirteen

Words: 618 | Rating: E | CW: mentions of blood, panic attacks

one || twelve || fourteen

Given free rein to ask the questions that have been burning at him the last week, Eddie takes advantage of every single second Joyce is willing to give him. He learns how to use his new powers more effectively and what limits they have. He learns about Soul Scales and how they work. He learns that his own is almost so directly in between good and bad that he has to be careful handling the Steve situation.

But then Joyce is telling him that the hour is up and Eddie finds himself with more questions than he started with by the time he uses his magic to guide himself back to Steve. Finding Steve is easy. It’s like a never-ending tug behind Eddie’s bellybutton pointing him in the right direction.

The condition he finds Steve in, though, is anything but easy. For a moment, Eddie freezes, staring at the horror show in front of him and feeling himself thrown back to the moment he met Steve for the first time. Only this time it feels so, so much worse. This time there’s no apartment to safely hide them away, the blood splattered across an alleyway next to Steve’s building. This time there’s no body for Eddie to knit back together to cover things up.

Pulling his gaze from the horrors, Eddie looks at where Steve is slumped against the wall, chest heaving in terror or panic or both. “Steve?” he calls out hesitantly as he takes slow steps forward. “Steve, what happened?”

At first, there’s no reaction. Just as Eddie’s about to call Steve’s name again, Steve’s head snaps up and his gaze meets Eddie’s. It’s enough to have Eddie reeling back, because he might not have known Steve long, but he’s known him long enough to know his eyes aren’t usually red. “Oh, what the fuck?”

Steve looks just as freaked out as Eddie feels, and that’s the only thing propelling Eddie forward again. His hand reaches out to grasp at Steve’s shoulder, gritting his teeth against the same burning sensation running through his veins as the last time they touched. “Breathe, Steve! You need to calm down,” Eddie tells him as sternly as he can through the pain and the fear. “Now!”

It doesn’t work at first, with Steve only pulling back himself, jerking out of Eddie’s touch and into the brick wall of the alleyway. His hands move to yank at his hair, smearing even more blood in the strands as he does so. But that doesn’t stop Eddie. “Steve!” he tries one last time, gearing up for how much it’s gonna hurt when he moves to maybe like squish Steve back into his body or something. That works for Eddie.

Steve looks at him again, and this time it’s different. This time it’s clear that Steve is seeing Eddie standing there. In an instant, the tension in his shoulders drop and his hands fall to his side again. “Ed—“ he barely gets out, eyes fading back to brown and then falling closed as Steve crumples to the ground.

“Oh, fuck!” Eddie curses as he surges forward to catch Steve. It burns, just like always, but he softens the landing anyway as they both hit the concrete.

It feels like his skin is on fire, and Eddie wants nothing more than to cast Steve away from himself, but Steve is clearly having a much rougher time than whatever Eddie’s going through, so instead Eddie just fishes Steve’s phone from his pocket, punching in the password he only knows from being nosy, and placing a call.

“Hey, Robin,” he greets, voice strained once he gets an answer. “It’s Eddie. Steve, uh, Steve needs you, I think.”

Tags below the cut as always, let me know if you'd like to be added!

@chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @puppy-steve @penny00dreadful @momotonescreaming @stevesbipanic @dawners @little-birch-boy @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @estrellami-1 @vthx @lolawonsstuff @gleek4twd @littlebluejane @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lawrencebshaggoth @sadisticaltarts @queenie-ofthe-void @r0binscript @anaibis @hairdressersdoitwithstyle @goodolefashionedloverboi @spookednsaucy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @flustratedcas @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian @damnpotatoe @awkwardgravity1

[succubusonthedoorstep]

ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀ!ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Levi's huge crush, suggestive content, explicit language, heavy flirting, love bites, grinding, he steals your shorts and panties, biting, infidelity, nipple pinching, headcanon format! (Read part two here!)

Neighbor!Levi who moves in a year after you. Spotting him with cardboard boxes while tending to the community garden, you gave a small wave and tried not to stare too hard at his biceps. He acknowledged you with a small nod.

Neighbor!Levi who stares at your butt while you’re bending down to inspect your tulips. The curve of your ass in those shorts had him running upstairs and back down so he wouldn’t miss you leaving. 

Neighbor!Levi who introduces himself like a gentleman as you’re closing the garden gate and locking it. His hand is warm and he shakes it for longer than expected, but you’re too caught up in his conversation to notice.

“Do you take care of all this yourself?”

“No, Mrs. Chisholm helps when she can. She’s taking it easy these days, though.”

He frowned and released your hand, leaving it colder than before.

“If I can plant something here, I’ll help you care for them.”

Neighbor!Levi who knew he was gonna help you anyway. There was nothing that could stand between him and his fixation with his endearing neighbor. The smile you gave him confirmed his place in the garden and he gaped at your hips swaying as you walked back to your corner apartment. You went upstairs, passed several doors, and opened the one next to his. 

Neighbor!Levi, whose heart drops to his stomach at the sight of you peeking back at him as your door shuts. He watches a pink light flicker on before stuffing his hands in his pockets and striding upstairs.

After talking for the next few days, Neighbor!Levi catches on to your tricks. He’s getting familiar with your collection of shorts and already has a favorite- the mini ones that you sleep in, first catching them in the morning when you’re stepping out onto your balcony. 

Neighbor!Levi watches your breasts peek out from the tank top you have on as you lean over the railing to chat with him. The gray sweatpants he has on does little to hide the growing bulge between his legs and he didn’t bother to wear a shirt to greet the warm morning, but you weren’t complaining. The thin gold chain that he wore to bed drew your eyes to his collarbone and had you licking your lips at the thoughts it brought. 

Neighbor!Levi finds himself inviting you over brunch, calling it a “favor for finding a place for me.” He doesn’t have to tidy much but a few dishes in the sink, but he finds himself adjusting the pillows on his bed anyway. He tried telling himself it was redundant, but it did little to settle the hopes he had.

Neighbor!Levi opens his door and finds you looking stunning, though you argued there was nothing special about the leggings and t-shirt combo you were sporting. He only rolled his eyes and allowed you in.

“You decorate well, Levi. A woman’s touch?”

If only you knew. The only woman Levi had the mind to touch felt far no matter how close she may be. 

“Not a lot of women coming in and out of here,” he remarked. “I don’t have time for ‘em.”

“Oh? What do you do for work that makes you so busy?”

“I…” he pulled a flat pan out from a cabinet, setting it on the stove. “I have a small business with my friends.”

Neighbor!Levi’s little white lie was enough to convince you. The blooming orchids in a vase and glassware in his china cabinet showcased the successes of his career- the men you dated before couldn’t afford the Rolexes you spotted him in, let alone this apartment’s rent.

Neighbor!Levi let you take the reins, assisting wherever you needed him. Forgot an egg for your crepes? He was already there with another one. Needed to put on your apron? He dug one out of his pantry and looped it around your neck, walking around you to tie it.

Neighbor!Levi feels you lean back on his hard body, your ass pressing into his dick print. You’re impossible to resist anymore- he needs a taste. His mouth connects with your neck, tongue skillfully finding a sensitive spot. Your moans echoed off his walls, head tilting to give him more space to work.

Neighbor!Levi’s big hands trail into your shirt to cup your tits, giving them a few languorous squeezes that had your nipples hardening under the fabric. “Juuust like that,” he encouraged between kisses, the praise leading directly into your panties. “Push that ass back on me, you know what to do.”

Neighbor!Levi pulled down the cup of your bra to pinch your nipple and pull it slightly. The purple love bites blooming on your skin made his heart melt, and in his needy haze, Levi bit at your neck. 

Neighbor!Levi feels you jump in surprise, spilling the crepe batter onto his apron and your house shoes.

“Shit…” he grumbled, pulling away to help you clean up. “I’m sorry- I got carried away… your shoes-“

“It’s fine, they were pretty old,” you chimed in, slipping the ruined apron from your body. “Could you go into my apartment and get my other ones? They should be in my room by the closet.”

Neighbor!Levi nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him quietly. What was he thinking? He was usually much more clear in his thoughts and actions, but you managed to wrap around his head like a cloud. He spends his short walk from his apartment and into yours brooding over what just happened. It felt amazing for him- the bulge in his pants could tell you that without words. He was positive you knew, a sentiment that lightened the weight in his heart.

Neighbor!Levi navigates your home easily as the layouts were nearly identical.

Neighbor!Levi finds your room and enters, his eyes landing directly on the pink velvet sleep shorts hanging out of your hamper. He reached for them and held them up, imagining your ass hanging out of them while you lay in bed. A matching pair of hot pink panties were inside of the shorts, and Levi felt his cock twitch.

Neighbor!Levi stuffs the fabric into the band of his sweats. Snatching the house shoes from the floor and nearly running out of the bedroom, he stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Neighbor!Levi could only stare at the framed pictures sitting on your dresser- pictures of you with a tall brunette from last Valentine’s day.

Like + Reblog! Tysm for reading! ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Part two is out on Valentine’s Day!

[ghxstmxchine]

Hello- This is my first time requesting smt on Tumblr but your blog has caught my attention since you write trans content so well which is sadly rare :I Anyways could you write Miguel X ftm reader who is shy about wanting to Dom Miguel for the first time (sfw with or without nsfw is fine) Thank you in advance for the masterpiece you are going to cook up

ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: as a trans person, writing for other trans people is always something I'm happy to do! so glad you think I write it so well, always important to have good representation :)

☆ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ: NSFW // Miguel x ftm!reader // w.c: 1.1k // warnings: smut, dom!reader, blowjobs, dirty talk, penetration

You loved him. You loved him so much that you were scared to mess up, every action, every movement was calculated. It made for a strange relationship between the two of you, both so meticulous, tactful to your cores that made navigating your relationship feel like a game of chess.

That’s why you never brought it up to him in the bedroom. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing and scare him off, nor face rejection and just how humiliating that can be. Miguel normally took the reins, it was expected when he was the one running most things. Pushing you down on the bed and crawling on top, his hands everywhere as he guides you towards pleasure that left your whole body tingling.

You loved it so damn much, he was good and took care of your every need. But you wanted something else, you’d been given a taste and were starved for more. You wanted a go at taking charge, but that required you being forward enough to ask.

“You want to what?” Miguel asks, asking more for clarification rather than completely missing what you said. You could tell from the way his face seemed slightly red, bushy eyebrows furrowed.

“Nevermind,” you spit the words out fast, trying to take back what you had already said. Your cheeks darken with shame, a blush rising on your skin which betrays so easily your desperate attempt to play down what you had just said. God, you wanted to die on the spot. Not like he’d be nice enough to grant you mercy.

Miguel seemed equally conflicted, you couldn’t blame him as he seemed to switch between satisfied and unsure. Finally, he approaches you, large hands gently grasping your wrists so he could hold your hands. He smiles down at you, all too knowing. “No, say what you said.”

“I want…” You look everywhere but at him. You were making your message seem pretty weak. “I want to try being in charge… y’know next time. Next time we’re… in bed together..”

He snorts but it’s not condescending, much more entertained. Miguel leans in to kiss you, nipping gently at your bottom teeth with those pearly fangs of his. “Really? You think you can?”

“Y-yeah..”

“You’re not acting like you can.” Miguel replies cooly and you shift in your spot, finally looking him in the eye. Satisfaction sprawls across his face as he kisses you again, whispering softly between each peck. “So show me, gonna put me in my place or not?”

You didn’t expect it to begin so quickly, a messy makeout between the two of you following the conversation. One second the tension in the air is thick then it’s snapping, hands tangled in hair and lips smashed together. Your hands cup his jaw, pulling him down to meet you, forcing him onto your level.

Soon enough he’s sinking to his knees, mouth wet with saliva that stains your thighs as he kisses every inch of exposed skin. Miguel’s pupils are blown wide, reflecting your own flustered face in the glossiness of them. Your fingers curl in his hair, pushing his head back so he’s looking up at you, the soft gasp leaving his mouth is praise to your actions, satisfaction that you’re showing him what you can do.

Slowly, your other hand that has been cupping his jaw climbs up the side of his face, touching the soft flesh of his lips. You ghost your fingers over them, pressing against the seam of glossy lips that part so obediently. Warm surrounds your fingers, spit coating the pad of each digit as you ease his mouth open, his tongue lolling out without you even having to ask.

You press your fingers against the fangs, feeling their sharpness and how they dig into your fingertips, anymore pressure and they’d slash right though with ease. He shivers, a single movement away from the taste of your sweet blood on his tongue. He wanted it so fucking bad but you tug at his hair, the pressure on his scalp reminding him of where he is as he lets you touch his fangs. “S’pretty…”

Pushing down your pants and boxers, the cold air on your crotch and the slick staining your thighs makes you shiver. Miguel immediately melts at the sight, nearly drooling but he doesn’t move, waiting for you to do something.

“¿Vas a hacer algún movimiento o simplemente voy a mirar?”

You take in a deep breath to steady yourself, searching for what to say. Tightening the fist in his hair you pull him closer, his cheek resting against your thigh. “You can start by sucking me off.”

You don’t need to say anything else, those soft lips kissing up your thighs before he’s at your core, tongue curling as it slides through your fold. You shudder, knees shaking as he dives in to feast on you, wrapping his lips around your t-dick and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on it. Big, rough hands grasp at your thighs, encapsulating them with ease as he tilts his head for better access, suckling at your t-dick and folds coated with sweet slick.

Every breath leaving your mouth is shuddery, you’d screw your eyes closed if it wasn’t for how gorgeous he looked on his knees, lapping so desperately at your core, praying you’d open your legs just a little more so he could slide his hot tongue into your cunt. He buries his face against the warmth between your legs, nearly trying to pull you down on his mouth as he sucks you off, eating you out like a man starved.

The hand that was once weakly grasping at his hair, simply looking for something to keep you steady tightens, no longer holding on but guiding him. There was some sort of confidence that came with guiding him, tugging his hair as you guide his mouth along your t-dick, slurping messily at the engorged clit as he laves his tongue over it. He was so messy, slick smeared on his chin and all around his mouth as you pushed his head closer, forcing him to suckle sweetly at your t-dick.

“Jus’ like that, keep suckin’ my dick, baby. You’re so messy…” You moan, pleasure boiling over as you feel your thighs tremble, cumming all over his face in a sticky mess. You pull his away, Miguel more than happy to keep lapping at your juices dripping down your thighs. “So messy, letting me cum all over your face.”

You’re pushing him against the bed soon enough, crawling on top and sliding his thick length inside you, aided by your own slick and then amount he drooled all over you. Emboldened by just how good he looked when he was on his knees, you slide your hands up his broad chest and lean in close, lips ghosting against his ear. You prop your hips up, the head of his cock the only thing left inside you.

“C’mon, start fucking me baby. Make me feel good.”

[strwbite]

i can already tell this is about to be my new fav blog… can i request something about john and arthur (separately?? whatever is easiest) falling for a fem gunslinger who’s new to the gang?? :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ A/N; how sweet of you to say, anon!! thank you so much! :D <333 and yes, of course you can! gonna be so honest here, i got SUPER into writing arthur's part and made it way too long, so this post is condensed to just arthur's perspective. i'm currently writing up john's, but i think it'd make the post a bit too long if i included both, so i decided to go ahead and post this one tonight! i hope to have john's up some time tomorrow—in a separate post so nothing is too long! i hope you understand and i am so excited! i had a lot of fun writing this for you!:D i hope it's in character for arthur, i tried my best!:) anyways, enough rambling, let's get into it!

♡ ; WARNINGS; fluff, some angsty themes, descriptions of a wound, hurt/comfort ♡ ; SUMMARY; you tend to arthur's wounds and he realizes just how much he cares for you ♡ ; RATING; sfw ♡ ; CHARACTERS; arthur morgan ♡ ; DETAILS; 3.5k words, part one - find john's part here (wip)

“Arthur Morgan!”

Your voice was hushed in your throat as you whisper-shouted his name through the air of Horseshoe Overlook, your words sounding more like a scold than a greeting. Said scolding hung heavy over Arthur and he tipped his head down in embarrassment, the black leather of his hat covering what little you could see of his face. He sat in his horse's saddle, one hand holding the reins as he led her to the post. The other hand held a white-knuckled grip on the opposing shoulder, his body slouched over as he guarded it. Taking a step closer, you noticed the crimson stain seeping into button-up that lay beneath his equally bloody hand, ichor oozing out of what you could only chalk up to some sort of wound.

It was around four in the morning and most everyone at the camp was fast asleep, save for some of the camp’s night owls, who wandered around, aimlessly. You had finished your chores around camp and decided to spend some time picking up the slack where other members had failed to keep up with their responsibilities; a selfless attempt to avoid any conflict between Grimshaw and aforementioned slackers. You had been wiping down a dirtied table that sat across from the hitching posts when you were interrupted by the sound of hooves clobbering against the dew-covered grown. The hoofbeats were met with a sleep-deprived Lenny who called out, ‘Who goes there?’, which was met with Arthur’s half-hearted, ‘S’just me, Lenny.’, before he rode up to the hitching post.

“Christ, what happened to you?” You chided, rushing to his side as you took a closer look at the blood-stained hand he held over the presumed lesion. There was more blood than you had originally noticed, some of which was a deep brown that dried and seeped into the cotton of his sleeve, speaking note to just how long it had been bleeding. You reached up, gesturing for him to move his hand, but he only nursed it closer to his side, causing a grimace to spread across his face at the movement.

He was in pain, that you knew for sure—despite what you’ve learned of his durable reputation, seeing him like this worried you. You and Arthur had grown somewhat close after your arrival. At first, you had a hard time accumulating to the hectic nature of the gang, but he aided you in your transition into the Van der Linde lifestyle. He checked up on you daily, offering you food, errands—just about anything you could think of. Arthur also held conversations about your life before, allowing you to ramble on about who you are and where you came from; how different things are now—and he'd validate everything you had to say about the Gang's way of life and your upheaval. After some time, he even took to bringing you small gifts and trinkets he found when he'd run off somewhere, each time saying something along the lines of, ‘I know you ain't got none of your old stuff with you, so here, saw this and thought of you.”.

Needless to say, you had developed a strong affinity for the cowboy. So when he disappeared, seemingly without a trace, it troubled you.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him in days—in fact, no one around the camp had. Days without Arthur turned into a full week without Arthur and you couldn’t hide the concern that stirred inside of you. Despite your new position in the gang, you know this wasn’t unheard of, per se—Arthur had a habit of disappearing for days at a time, only to return with various trophies and animal pelts from his adventures. But something felt off to you, this was different. That feeling only served to be solidified when you overheard Charles muttering something along the lines of, ‘Didn’t find him when I went lookin’ earlier.’, in a passing conversation with Javier.

And yet, here he was—the cat dragged him in, albeit not without a few scratches and bruises. He slung his leg over the saddle and to the other side of his horse, a hiss slipping through his gritted teeth at the pain that seared through his shoulder at the movement. You offered him a hand and helped him down, supporting his weight to the best of your ability. After he was on the ground, you slung his non-injured arm across your shoulder, ignoring his stubborn insistence of, ‘I can walk on my own, ‘m fine.’, as you urged him to use you as support. Arthur accepted his fate and hooked his arm around your shoulders—the blood leaking from the injury at the loss of pressure—and allowed you to help him to his tent.

“Can’t believe you’d run off on us like that, Morgan—you do this a lot?” You griped at him, but concern tinged your every word. “Had everyone worried half to death—‘m glad you’re back, even though I hate seein’ you like this.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for you to make a fuss over, best you quit that bellyachin’. Don’t wanna make yourself sick worryin’ about me.” He remarked.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m always worryin’ about you.”

Arthur could hear the genuinity in your tone, so palpable and honest, and it sent a fire of guilt burning through him, his head drooping low once more in avoidance. He never meant to worry you. The last thing he ever wanted to do was keep you up at night, wondering if he was okay or if you'd ever see him again. He was adamant that a newcomer like you shouldn’t have to worry about that sort of thing in the first place—you were just getting your land legs within the gang, you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with the likes of him. Despite the remorse pooling in his stomach, it was hard to ignore the way his heart sputtered against his chest at your expressed concern. Arthur wasn’t the most in-tune with his emotions and when he was, it was scarcely pleasant. His feelings were deprecative at best, most of them leading him to believe he was undeserving of care; that everything he'd ever accomplished had been nothing but evil, hateful deeds—that he deserved all the bad things that happened to him—that would happen to him. He had it coming, of course. The thought of a lady like you caring for a wicked man like him profoundly confused him and sent his brain wracking. But even he had to admit, the way you spoke to him with such consideration piqued his interest. On one hand, he felt he wasn’t worthy of such a sweet, caring person in his life—on the other, he wondered what it would be like to be to get to know you. To open up to you. To let you in.

“I ain’t worth the fuss.” He remarked, disregarding the way his heart heaved heavy in his ears at the thought of something more tangible between the two of you. He averted his attention back to the wound he nursed on his shoulder, taking notice of the grime and debris that surrounded the gash. He assumed that all the poking and prodding at it with less-than-clean hands egged on the infection that dared to fester. His adrenaline had worn off at this point. His shoulder ached and throbbed.

“Just got myself a souvenir from an O’Driscoll, s’all—graze at that, mind you. Ain’t nothin’ to write home about—why’re you so concerned anyways, Miss?”

“Oh sure, just a graze,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes, your tone dripping with sarcasm. Despite his aloof demeanor, you continued guiding him to his tent with slow, tentative steps as you supported his weight with your own. “‘Cause, Arthur, that could get nasty real quick and I ain’t too keen on lettin’ you up and die by the hands of an O’Driscoll. Graze or not, you’re lettin’ me doctor you up—and I mean proper.”

Arthur opened his mouth to argue—to insist that he would be fine, that he didn’t need a lady such as yourself to waste precious time on a man like him, but the words fell short when he turned to look down at you. Your gaze met his own, your demeanor softened with worry and care, and it sent a flight of butterflies he didn’t quite know he had fluttering in his stomach. How could he say no to you? With a long-winded exhale, Arthur nodded his head in response, his eyes darting around the camp to avoid your stare.

“Sure.”

When the two of you reached his modest tent, you eased him into a seated position on the cot before taking a step back. With an insignificant gesture that said ‘one second’, you scurried off to grab the much-needed supplies, leaving the cowboy to sit and fester in his stirring emotions and searing pain. You weren’t gone too long, though, and you returned with a bottle of whiskey in one hand. The other held a strip of flannel and a roll of gauze.

“Now, this ain’t gonna feel good by any means,” you murmured as you lowered yourself to the cot, taking a seat next to him.

Arthur had been through this process many times—several of those times were unfortunately at the mercy of less-than-careful hands. Needless to say, he knew the pain and he knew it well. His painstaking fate mattered little to him at the moment, though, as all he could focus on was how close you sat to him. He’d sat next to you before, sure—but not like this. You sat with pure intentions, leg brushing up against his own as you leaned in to examine the wound with such care. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it—you knew of the things he had done, his reputation certainly preceded him. You knew exactly the type of man he was, tied up in his wrongdoings and sins, and yet, you didn’t question a single thing. Instead, you gave him a brief scolding and treated him with a gentle kindness he’d never quite received. You took care of him. The moment felt tender like never before, filled with consideration and attentiveness—Arthur couldn’t recall a time he had been so vulnerable with someone, save for Mary Linton, which was long over and done with.

“Don’t I know it.” He grumbled.

Arthur shifted his position on the cot, leaning forward to give you a better view of the supposed ‘graze’. What you could make of the surrounding flesh beneath his shirt’s fabric was red and inflamed, a testament to the trauma it bore. The wound itself pulsated as blood trickled down, matting the ripped fabric of the shirt to his skin. Your feeble fingers grazed around the edges as you struggled to get a closer look through squinted eyes. Some of the view was obstructed by clotting blood and torn fabric—Arthur grimaced at the sensation of your touch against the inflamed skin.

“How long I got, doc?” He queried, voice hitching in his throat in pain while he attempted to make light of the situation. You had to admit, it was a nasty wound—a bullet to the shoulder was rarely a welcomed invitation, especially to those who didn’t receive care from a proper medic, but you had seen worse.

“Well, Mister Morgan,” you spoke as your hands worked the cap of the whiskey bottle, a loud ‘pop!’ signaling that it was open. You lifted the flannel to the top of the bottle and flipped it over, soaking the material as the stench of alcohol flooded your nose. “You’ll live. Probably. Y’know you’re lucky you found yourself at the hands of a medic such as myself.”

The two of you shared a laugh at your jest—in all actuality, you had little to no idea what you were doing when it came to anything medicinal. The best you knew was to clean it with whiskey, drink the aforementioned whiskey to help with the pain, wrap it up, and pray it doesn't get infected. But you would be damned if you didn’t at least try to assist the poor man; you didn’t know Arthur to ask for help. The little time you had spent with the man proved him to be self-reliant, sometimes to a fault. The fact that he accepted your aid, albeit begrudgingly, was a surefire sign that something was wrong.

Your gesture didn’t go over his head, either, as he watched you work the bottle and cloth with attentive hands. He shook his head and a nervous-lipped grin twitched at his lips as he looked down at the liquid courage in your hands.

“S’pose you’re right. Dunno what I’d do with myself if it weren’t for you.”

“You’d do nothin’, I imagine it’d be a lonesome life, Mister Morgan. ‘Sides, who else ‘round here would fix up your,” You paused, as if searching for the right words, “Graze wounds, if you hadn’t met me?”

And with that, you raised the alcohol-soaked strip to the wound and gingerly pressed it against the laceration, dabbing it in repetition to remove any excess blood or dirt. Arthur flinched in response to the cloth brushing against the inflammation, followed by a small hiss slipping through gritted teeth as the raw sting of whiskey sept into the gash. You worked with vigilance and the most delicate touch you could manage, and he sat still for you, knowing it was for the better. The consequences posed if you didn’t flush it out served enough for him to bite his tongue and suffer through the pain.

When you finished the final touches of your doctoring, you pulled the flannel away and discarded it to the cot beside you. You replaced it with the roll of gauze and worked it around his arm, covering the scrape and securing it to itself. After finishing, your hand lingered on the unbothered skin below, your thumb rubbing circles against the skin to soothe him.

“It ain't perfect by any means, but that should do it.” You assured him with a gentle smile.

At this point, you sat so close to him. You enveloped Arthur’s every sense, from the wavering heat of your hand against his arm to the smell of gunpowder and wildflowers wafting off of you—the sight of you peering up at him with such fondness sent his heart racing once again. His hands fidgeted, nervous and awkward, as he stared at you for just a moment longer than necessary, before breaking away. The grip you had on Arthur grew tighter and tighter with every moment he spent in your presence. He wasn’t the best with these sorts of things, finding it all too complicated and confusing to put into words; he even rambled about it in his journal, writing, ‘I am not sure why I find myself so drawn to her; how do I explain this to her if I can’t even explain it to myself?’. From the way you carried yourself across the camp with such poise, to the way you gawked at him from across the campfire sent sparks flying in Arthur’s mind. Not to mention the eager way you rushed up to speak with him every time he came home—he was enamored with you, as nervous as he was to admit it.

“Thank you,” Arthur murmured as his eyes darted from yours to the thumb tracing circles on his bicep. He prayed you wouldn’t notice the flush that crept across his cheeks, starting from his nose, traveling all the way to his ears and neck.

Despite his wishful thinking, you noticed it, but you found it endearing. You had never seen Arthur this flustered—tongue-tied, sure, but never quite like this.

“I sure do appreciate it.”

You gave him a soft smile, eyes trailing along the heat that crept across his sun-kissed cheeks. You started to stand from the cot, keeping your eyes set on him as you rose to your feet. “‘Course, Arthur. Now, you just go ahead and rest up, all right?”

He nodded along as you spoke, avoiding looking into your eyes with a sense of embarrassment. It was never his intention to worry you, and he knew he'd be beating himself up for weeks over this entire endeavor. “Thank you for takin’ care of me—didn’t think you’d much care ‘bout it, 'bout me. ‘M sorry for bein’ gone so long.”

“Pfft,” You stifled a small laugh from within your throat as you placed a flattened palm against his non-injured shoulder, urging him to look up at you. “Don’t mention it. And ‘course I care ‘bout it. I care ‘bout you, Arthur—we all do.”

You offered him, yet another, sweet smile and used your thumb to rub the same circles against his shoulder. If you’d let him, Arthur was certain he'd stay like this for hours—under the comfort of your touch as the soft glow from oil lamps and moonlight shone over you. Your time spent with him was short-lived, sure, but there was no denying the way he gravitated to you. You were a fresh face, so kind and sweet to everyone you met, despite your reticence, and he found himself wanting to spend time with you. He'd ask you to accompany him into town, even if it were just to drop off some mail or pick up something on behalf of Dutch. He even took to bringing you along while hunting or going on scouting missions, despite initial hesitance. He was reluctant to put your in harm's way, but with some convincing on your end and a showcase of your way around a gun, he obliged you and found himself enjoying the company. 

The world made sense when you were around, not so much when you weren’t.

“I care 'bout you, too. I'd even say I enjoy havin' you around, 'specially when you're fixin' me up." Arthur blurted out after a moment's silence, hands fidgeting as the boldness of his words sat heavy on his shoulders. Nerves soon sat in and his stomach twisted into a bundle of anxiety, sweat beading at his hands and forehead—did he say the wrong thing?

"Pardon, I, uh, not that I don't always enjoy your company, ‘cause I sure do-you're, uh, a real pleasure to be around, s'just—am I talkin' too much? Feels like ‘m talkin’ too much.”

He blabbered on, stammering over his words as he struggled to form a coherent sentence and you couldn’t conceal the laugh that slipped from your lips. It wasn’t one of malice or mockery; it was pure admiration.

“Oh, Arthur,” you sighed, your voice filled with warmth and affection that sent a fire of nerves burning through him. With a mix of nervousness and longing, you leaned in closer, bridging the gap between the two of you. Your eyes locked, and you could sense the anticipation in the cool air surrounding you. At that moment, time seemed to falter and come to a standstill. One of your hands caressed his hair, running your fingers through the long locks just before your lips met his in a tender, heartfelt kiss. It was soft, sweet, and everything he had ever wanted. His entire body tensed up as he felt your touch against him—it was supple and delicate, a tenderness he had seldom been gifted before, such a contrast to the pain that scorched through his shoulder and his very being. As if he needed any more confirmation, the feeling of your gentle affection laid upon him solidified everything—you made sense. He wanted to know you. He needed to know you.

With that, you pulled back, just after trailing another light touch through his hair, before you stood back to your upright position. He said nothing. You didn’t either. No words were needed when your sentiment spoke a thousand things more than he could ever dream of saying. The two of you lingered for a moment, taking in the moment as you stroked a delicate thumb against his stubble-covered cheek, tracing his time-weathered features. He leaned into your touch, ever-so-slightly.

Finally, you broke the spell of silence, your voice inching just above a whisper, “Get some rest, Arthur. You need it.”

With a final graze across his cheek, you retracted your hand and headed out of his tent, returning to the tables you were tending to, but his image stayed etched deep in your mind.

Arthur watched you retreat, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to shake the warmth that pooled in him at your kiss. His mind swirled with emotions he couldn’t quite put into words. He hadn’t felt like that in a long time; it was a feeling he thought he had lost forever, and he still questioned if he truly deserved it, even now. He replayed the fleeting moment in his mind, committing every detail to memory—the touch of your hand, the softness of your lips, the tenderness in your eyes.

With deliberate movements, mindful not to aggravate his injured shoulder, he settled flat on his back, lying down on the cot. His gaze fixed on the canvas ceiling above and his thoughts raced, consumed by you and what could be.

Gradually, sleep beckoned Arthur, tempting him with heavy eyelids and the gentle chorus of crickets chirping in the nearby woods. As the night wore on, the camp embraced a stillness that only the wilderness could offer, coaxing him into a deep sleep. In that stillness, your presence lingered, a gentle reminder that Arthur wasn’t alone; that you cared for him.

Just as he cared for you.

[youuuimeanmee]

Nol and Shinae's Dance Analysis.

I heard from some people, Quimchee planned the entire night sequence on December 21st to be filled with hints and set ups for events and character dynamics in the future. Though I don't know how far Quimchee is gonna put the hints since it's past Dec 21st already, but hey, Quimchee always insert some symbolisms and foreshadowings anyway so I wanna analyze this one particular scene because it has a lot of foreshadowing materials, and try to predict their dynamic in the upcoming Chess Game.

Analysis

1. Nol with the blindfold. He is hiding his eyes from crying so much. But why is he crying in the first place? One can only guess the reason, but we know the phrase: Eyes are the window of the soul. It immediately reflects our emotions, our fears, and our deepest emotive shades. Nol is hiding his true feelings (whatever it is: love, relieve, heartbreak, fear, anxiety) from Shinae. He is closing his eyes, ignoring whatever reality in front of him, and chooses to live in the moment with her --regardless of the consequences that might come after.

2. The head band covering Shinae's neck --or the delicate part of the body that must be protected, as Nessa once stated. Nol took it away from her. He also told her to take off her shoes earlier. Combine these two, and you have Nol basically rendering Shinae naked vulnerable in front of him. She believes Nol's excuse to play things fair without question; even without the blindfold, Shinae is pretty blind herself, because she couldn't see he's not fine at all.

3. Their outfits. They're both vulnerable in their own ways; Shinae without her shoes and her headband, and Nol in hospital gown with the bandages that covered his wounds. But, while Shinae's neck is out in the open (completely open with her feelings), Nol's neck is wrapped in bandages (hiding his feelings completely). They're not seeing eye to eye; it's not fair.

4. The dance movement. Nol is twirling Shinae around. Even in blindness, he had Shinae dancing at the palm of his hand. By lying and hiding behind a mask, he had her under his control. (Not that he has any malice --he just wants to make happy memories with Shinae before he's gone, but from here, we get a glimpse that Nol is capable of manipulating his partner to move like he wants to.)

5. The color. Rand said he has faith in his team. His words are in red in black, signifying power. He has conviction they won't lose to Yui. And sure enough, the duo is dancing without a care, they're building their team play. But notice the background color when they danced; they're not in the light (hope), but it's not completely dark either. It's basically grey. Despite Rand's hope, the situation seems bleak.

Nol who is blind, is guiding Shinae who is blind. You know what could happen?

This is the worst scenario though, I hope it won't happen.

The blind is leading the blind. One of them has to open their blindfold if they don't want to fall together. Fortunately, Shinae is quick to open her eyes from Nol's tricks. She saw Nol's tear stains and she immediately took the rein; she stopped their dance. Once it stops, we can see the light returns (even if it's not as bright as before).

Discussion

Nol and Shinae's dance has been teased for a long time, and we finally get to see it now. It's been teased from episode 5, when Nol proposed Shinae to be his partner. There has been many hurdles, but now that Shinae has fully accepted Nol's hand, they finally embark on a new journey as partners. Their dance represents their new partnership and how they work together as a team. And of course, being their first time, it's not all smooth sailing.

Nol and Shinae is a unique pair. They're almost like a mirror. Whatever Nol do that night, Shinae is able to keep up with him.

Nol and Shinae have the potential to be impeccable liars. They both can make nasty jokes that can cut their opponents deep. Like Nol's prank that reminded Shinae of her father in-coma, and Shinae's prank that reminded Nol of his abused days in the Hirahara Hospital.

They are capable of stealing. Nol stole the yearbook to investigate Alyssa to give Shinae the justice she deserves. Shinae stole some balloons from the poor, tired man to give Nol a happy birthday he deserves.

They both can equally be manipulative if they want to. Shinae doesn't want Nol to bolt from her since he seemed ready to do it anytime, so she lured him out using sweet words, shared her painful past to try to relate to him, and asked him to dance in Min-Hyuk's room so she could be with him longer. Nol doesn't want Shinae to bolt from him again since she seemed ready to do it anytime, so he listened to her music together, played around with her finger dance, asked her to dance --even taking away her shoes, and smile as Yeong-Gi so she won't run away from him anymore.

Whatever wholesome or nasty things, they could do it together. They'd be such a great partners-in-crime. But sometimes, because they're so matching, they often find themselves in unfavourable condition when they're not in synch. For example, like the first time they meet. Both of them were riled up by the mean guy's mockery; they stood up to teach him a lesson at the same time. But, because they had different idea on how to do it and they're not aware of each other's presence, Shinae ended up hindering Nol by spilling the juice on him --or Nol hindered Shinae by getting in the way, whatever floats your boat. Yes, it is an accident, but I believe Quimchee has been setting up their dynamic from the very start.

You get the gist. For the upcoming chess game, they need to fix their teamwork. And to get a nice teamwork, they need to be in synch. They already prove themselves they're capable of doing that, like their first prank and their tag team against Sang-Chul. But if they want to win against Yui, they have to do better. It's clear they're not there yet, because Nol is hiding too much from her. In fact, Nol is too smart for his own good and he hates putting his loved ones in dangerous or uncomfortable situation, it's possible he would "manipulate" Shinae in their partnership; he'd let her help him enough, but not enough to drag her into the mud with him.

I found this comment and I agree with this, though realistically, I'm not too hopeful Shinae could turn things around so quickly when this is just the very beginning of Nol-Shinae's partnership.

It's been hinted no matter how much Shinae is seem to be able to catch up to Nol, Nol is always one step ahead from her.

On their first "dance" in the Arcade Arc, what Shinae lacked is stamina. Right now what she lack is knowledge. Knowledge about Nol's past and the sticky situation surrounding Hirahara. Unfortunately, Nol is not ready to share it yet. Not at all.

Nol has always been in constant survival mode. Years of being preyed by Yui has build him to never show his weakness to anyone. Not to his friends, not even Nana --to some extent. Today, he just made a huge leap by crying on his loved one's shoulder instead of crying alone, but he's not ready to reveal it to Shinae. He has yet to process his feelings. It takes time. Things are gonna get complicated, especially when it's been foreshadowed that Nol is going to leave for a long time. If he does leave, it'll be a challenge to stay in contact and get close to him. And in the future, there will be much more things that Nol is keeping secret from Shinae. We already have Nol's investigation on Alyssa, for starters. Shinae has stated she doesn't like surprises and she doesn't like it when someone is going overboard for her sake. If she find out Nol has been manipulating her, doing all sort of things behind her back, and shouldering everything alone.... Welp. And she is capable of hurting Nol too, so... Yikes. I pray things won't get that far, I hope they won't hurt each other too much in the process.

I do hope we'll get a parallel of episode 65 on the next episode --Nol admitted to Shinae he's not fine at all, but since Nol is hard-headed, I don't dare to hope too much.

On (un)related topic, Rand, the Black King, has ordered Shinae, his Black Pawn, to inflitrate the opponent's den. Well, even though I said ordered, it's more of an advice on how to play the game. Shinae has the right to decide whether she chose to involve herself in this game or not. To make the decision, she needs to know what is exactly she's up against, and for who she's fighting for. And for that, she has to be aware of Nol's circumstances. Once she heard everything about Nol, there's no going back.

If Nol won't talk to her, I hope she can talk to Nana; I hope the two of them will meet. Yujing is currently brewing her article. If Shinae could learn about Nol's past from Yujing, it'll sting since she didn't learn it from Nol himself, but at least it'll start some conversation with him. Hell, she could even try to ask Rand if she's desperate enough. Nol is the same. If he wants to stand on equal footing with Shinae in the chess game, he needs to face himself, take a leap of faith and try to open up to her, little by little. He needs to believe Shinae is not as fragile as she seemed; she can take his burden and she won't leave him either.

If, in the future, Nol ever find himself immersed in his Antihero role for too long, or he's into his revenge plot too deep, Shinae needs to stop him from hurting himself. Maybe she even have to resort to some brute force if he keeps being stubborn.

Shinae and Nol have different stats in nature, so she has to get creative and proactive with her ways to make up for her weakness, if she wants to stand by Nol's side equally.

Just like Nol who has the capability to manipulate anyone -- including his partner -- if he wanted to, Shinae is just as capable to take the rein of their relationship, like the way she accepting and stopping their dance when she found something wrong. It's up to her if she want to continue the dance --letting her partner be blind, or stopping the dance completely if it means she could get him to open his eyes (come in terms with his feelings).

...

Maybe this is why Rand has so much faith in Nol and Shinae (especially the latter). Despite their flaws, despite their bleak situation, they can overcome anything as long as they're together. In due time, of course.

[chaotic-on-main]

Dandelions | CanonAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ friends to lovers, first date, love confessions, just pure unadulterated FLUFF

☾ A/N ➼ I'm gonna have to start a separate thing for my song fics I s2g. The amount of songs I have written down to write fics about is insane. Anyways, this is actually a little fic I wrote for @humanitys-strongest-bamf because she said she really wanted a flower date written for her. I kinda took that idea as well as the inspiration from Ruth B's song Dandelions (attached below) AND I forgot Kat had also sent me a prompt request awhile back so this also fulfills that lmao. I hope y'all enjoy!! I've listened to this song for days on repeat so I hope I have captured it well.

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2k

It had only taken a couple months for the pure titans to be disposed of, thanks to the efforts of the scouts. This eradication is the reason why you find yourself sneaking off for another lone ride before dusk falls. The hard part wasn’t getting your horse or permission to go outside the walls, it was trying to get out without too many questions from your fellow cadets. You didn’t know how to tell them this was your way of escaping from them and everything else that came crashing since the battle of Shiganshina.

“Oi oi oi! Where do you think you’re going?” A deep voice rings out behind you as you’re saddling up. You feel your heart jump with your body. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before turning around to face a stern Captain Levi.

“Just a little ride before dinner tonight, Levi. I already got the okay.” He eyes you wearily.

“By yourself?” He crosses his arms.

“Yes, by myself. It’s not like we have any threats out there anymore.” You roll your eyes, smile now fading, before turning back around to tighten straps.

“People can be just as dangerous.” He gripes back. You feel his eyes burning holes in your head.

“Sounds like someone is worried about me.”

“Of course, I’m worried. Who knows what trouble you’ll get yourself into.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Tch, I trust you.” His words make you grin, but you quickly wipe it off your face before turning back around once you’re satisfied with your gear. You stare at him for a moment, his eyes meeting yours a second later.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” You say softly as you grip your reins tightly ready to lead your horse out of the stables.

“Just be careful.” He mutters, stepping aside to give you space to leave. His words make your heart jump again. Your eyes linger on each other as you walk past, a quick nod shared between the two of you as a goodbye.

On today's ride, you decide to aim for a bundle of trees sitting at the base of a small mountain to the west of the southern gate that you had noticed a while back. A couple hours pass before your destination comes into view. By your estimate, you had about an hour before being forced to head back lest you be surrounded by darkness.

You stare into the thick trees as you hand feed a treat to your tied off horse, an abrupt nip at your fingers alerting you to your now treat-less palm. A small laugh escapes your lips as you pat her nose reassuringly.

"I'll be back, okay? Don't go anywhere." You whisper up at her wide eyes. She bids you goodbye with another nip.

As you make your way through the overgrown shrubbery and gangly trees, you can't help but feel excitement for what might be on the other side. Looking up, you use a hand to half cover your eyes from the late afternoon sun filtering in between the leafy branches. Bird song weaves through the now thickening trees and into your ears. You softly whistle the song back as your fingers fumble with the latches on your waist. After a moment, the sketchbook you currently use as a guidebook is free from its confines. As always with every expedition you've ever been on, you are ready to document anything you see and hear.

It takes several more minutes before you finally stumble into a clearing. Whatever you had expected to find, it was leagues under from your current display. A meadow, far grander than anything you've ever seen, expands in an oval in front of you. Trees surround the whole area tall and strong, like knights in a line of defense. A small stream cuts through diagonally, telling stories with its gentle babble. You step deeper into it all with your eyes as wide as can be, soaking in this picture-perfect moment.

Looking down as you walk, your eyes become overwhelmed with the multitude of colors peppering your vision. Flowers of various sizes and lengths shift in the breeze as you walk by and something in you warms. Your eyes catch something that makes you stop abruptly.

“Oh wow.” You whisper as you slide down to your hands and knees so that you are eye level with a particular looking plant that didn’t very much look like a flower at all. The stem is brown, an odd color, you think, but it looked like a normal stem at least. The top however, where the petals would be, was soft and… furry? You reach out and lightly touch it. Much to your surprise, some of the fuzzy bits detach and fly off into the wind. A burst of laughter escapes from your chest and a memory stirs within you at the sight.

Armin had talked to you about these plants - dandelions. According to him, if you blow on the white bits to make them scatter and make a wish at the same time, it will come true. It was so silly, you think, but really what could it hurt? People wish on shooting stars all the time - this would be no different.

It takes you a moment, but you find a dandelion perfect for the wish you had in mind. You decide to plop yourself into the plush grass next to the creek, flower in hand. You feel a rush of heat sear your cheeks at not only what you were about to do but also what you were about to wish for. After making sure you were alone with a quick survey around, you sit forward and stare hard at the white fuzz. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.

“I wish for Levi to be mine.” Then blow.

.

Levi calls your name from behind, snapping you out of your anxious thoughts for a moment. You pull back on your reins until Levi can fall into step with you. When you glance over, he arches an eyebrow at you with a silent question of, "Where are we going?" He must have noticed your change in course, now heading west instead of straight south. To be honest, you wouldn’t have even noticed that you had shifted directions if Levi hadn’t said anything. This ride has become second nature to you. After your initial discovery, the meadow quickly became your fortress of solitude and you found yourself coming back again and again without thinking about it.

After weeks of patiently waiting, an opportunity to team up with Levi to check out the port construction progression finally came. Whether that came from luck or your constant pestering to Commander Hange, you didn't know. Regardless, you were both nervous and excited to finally share your most prized secret with Levi no less. All you give him in return for his silent question is a simple, "Trust me." before squeezing your thighs together then galloping off, leaving your captain in the dust.

The sun bares straight down by the time you and Levi make it to your makeshift hitching post just outside your favored path. On the ground next to it sits a half bucket of water and you give yourself a mental reminder to fill it the next time you’re here. Levi doesn't say anything as he ties off his horse, mirroring your movements with deft fingers. Nor does he say anything as you pull off the basket you had tied onto your saddle so long ago hidden with goodies you packed the night before. He still doesn't say anything as he follows you on the beaten path you’ve made from your many visits. Levi's silence was normal, and yet…

"Aren't you going to ask where I'm taking you? I could be leading you to your death, you know." You glance back at Levi, eyes locking on each other. His expression might be unreadable to most, but to you there was a subtle bliss written all over his face. You shoot him a smile while you wait for his answer.

"You asked me to trust you. So I'm trusting you. Besides, you can't take me on your own. You got a death wish?" He grumbles back to you.

"Who said I was alone?" You quip as you twist back around to watch where you were going, swinging the basket in your hands as you walk. Levi scoffs behind you. A comfortable silence blankets the both of you yet again.

It takes a bit but finally the clearing comes into view and those anxious thoughts start clouding your mind again. What if he thinks this is a waste of time? What if he thinks you're ridiculous for this? What if he doesn't share the same feelings for you as you do for him? Levi calls your name again to get your attention. God, you loved how he said your name.

Your eyes focus just as you step through with Levi in tandem. There's a gentle wind today; it blows through the multi-colored meadow in a way that makes the flowers look like they're dancing. The breeze is even soft enough that your favored dandelions stay intact, not a single seed threatens to blow away.

"Is this where you’ve been escaping to?"

"You notice?" You glance his way nervously. As usual, he has no significant emotion on his face, but to say he was emotionless would be a lie. His eyes shift from the babbling creek to the colorful field and then onto your face, eyes soft. The way he looks at you, it makes a part of you feel so alive and free.

"Sometimes." His comment makes you look away, a flush of heat already nipping at your cheeks.

"I-uh, I wanna show you something." You set off deeper into the meadow without checking to see if he’s following.

A moment later, you come upon the spot you had surveyed a couple days in advance, perfect for what you had in mind. In a swift motion, you pull out a blanket from the basket hanging from your arm and splay it on the ground. Once settled, you plop yourself down on the cloth to keep it from flying away. When you look up, Levi’s staring at you incredulously.

“Is this a date?” he asks dryly.

“Do you want it to be?” You ask, patting the empty spot next to you as you do. He hesitantly sits down next to you, unsure of what to do with his body but eventually settles on sitting crisscross like you. He stares over at you, a little bit of shock cracking through his still features. “Levi, I’m kidding. It doesn’t have to be. I just wanted to show you my favorite spot.” You mutter over to him, rolling your eyes. You swallow down your nerves. Maybe he isn’t as interested in you as you had hoped. As you start to unpack the basket of the lunch rations you had stowed away, he speaks up softly.

“I wouldn’t mind. It being a date, I mean.” His voice stays monotone, but his words make you double-take at him. Levi is flushed pink, starting from his neck then ending at the tips of his ears. A wide grin breaks out on your face as you finally comprehend what he just said.

“Really? Because this would have been so embarrassing if you didn’t feel the same way. I mean, I would have had to run away and start a new life somewhere else. When I talked to Mikasa about this, she was all ‘love like this only happens once in a lifetime.’ and it made me think that you might actually be the love of mi-“ You’re cut off by Levi’s nimble fingers pulling your chin in his direction, his face a lot closer than you remembered it being. He whispers your name again.

“Shut up.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and tender. You don’t remember much after that, but you do know that whatever they said about wishing on dandelions had to be true. And you couldn’t wait to wish upon many more in the meadow now shared between you and Levi.

taglist: @humanitys-strongest-bamf @averysmolbear @youre-ackermine @notgoodforlife @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @Dkbktk420 (idk why it won't let me tag you properly) If you'd like to join my taglist, please go here! Your information will never be shared. <3

[bepisbee]

cute short about the colors having the elements that the foursword kplus shadow has darkness)

He could feel it, through his heart pounding in his chest. Since the moment Shadow had touched him in the forest. When his arms draped around his shoulders, when he literally melted into him. He felt a deep ache in his core, his mantle of earth element, to reach out and touch back. Something seeded itself that day. He realized that Shadow wasn’t just some puppet, he was one of them. Vio was one of him. Shadow held an element.

Darkness.

He was sure now neither Vaati nor Gannon could have known. There was no way he would be breathing right now if they did.

He wasn’t sure when this fascination with connection turned into this soul binding need. Vio realized one night, watching him just be, he needed him. Deeply, irrevocably, he felt tethered. Shadow caught him staring then, meeting his eyes. For a moment he thought Shadow must be feeling the same tug. A longing in his expression before he covered it up with some commentary.

A deep sleepy groan took him from his thoughts. How had he even gotten back there? He looked as Shadow curled around him. He was napping peacefully on their tiny bed. Well, Link’s tiny bed. It was their turn with it versus a bed roll until their house was built in the east woods. Vio gently traced the scars on his face, similar to cracks of a mirror. Something in his chest settled with warmth. Approval from his element. He swears the damn things had minds of their own.

They very well might, if not just be mingled with Shadow’s consciousness. Combining their mantles had saved him after all. They were literally bound by magic. They each could feel when the other used it, and had a surprising amount of access to each other’s element.

Vio played with his fluffy purple locks, running fingers through, curling it around, combing it with his nails. Shadow made a contented sound and blearily looked up at him.

“Mmgh?”

“Hey,” he kissed his forehead. “Go back to sleep, you look comfy.”

“Iammm.” He buried his face into Vio’s tunic. “Always smell so good.” Shadow mumbled into him, “Like fresh wet dirt and deep forest trees.”

“I smell like dirt!?"

“Innaa good way.” Shadow huffs and scoots to be against his neck. “Makes me wanna…” He gives a playful bite, careful of his sharp fangs.

“Haa- hey careful! Watch the teeth.”

“Mm.” He was still half asleep and ended up sucking on the spot until it left a mark. Vio pulled him off.

“The others are gonna see that.” He chastised only half heartedly. He really wouldn't care except that they had all promised no funny business in the shared bed.

“Boohoo, they know we made out.” Shadow pouts. “We do that.” He bit the spot teasingly.

“W-we have a deal.” Vio squeaked out. He had to take a second to breathe, last time he let Shadow take the reins he lost control and accidentally covered Link’s house in vines and flowers on the outside. That was awkward to explain.

“Who says we’re doing anything on the bed?” Shadow looks at him devious. “I just wanna play and kiss you a little. And maybe grind you till you cum your pants.” He grinned.

“Shadow!” Vio shoved at him, scandalized. He laughed but just settled back against him. The rising shadows in the room shrank back into their normal shapes and sizes. He sweat a little at the spike between them.

“You are so easy to rile up Vi.” He was too comfortable and calm to really go through with that anyways. “I love seeing you flush for me. So cute,” He stuck his hand under his shirt, feeling him up. He rested it on his chest to feel his heart under his fingertips. It was running a bit fast. “Turn your brain off and nap with me. I’ll reward you later.”

“Hmmph. Fine.” Vio shifted until he was comfortable, an arm around Shadow’d waist. Little purple flowers in the window sill blossomed.

“Love you,” Shadow mumbled into his side.

“...” Vio sighed happily. “Love you too.”

[cas-skz]

Hii! could I request san and mingi (individually) as boyfriend, please? sfw + nsfw

YAAY I haven’t done any of these. I hope I did it right lol. Kinda liked doing this too

18+!! MDNI plz&thn

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

SAN

He’s the type of man that likes to show you off. Taking every opportunity he can to get dressed up and take you out for a night on the town. He posts pictures of you almost everyday, captioning how lucky he was and how much he loved you. When men check you out, he makes sure they know you’re with him. Sometimes it was pulling you close to him by the waist, other times he shot a devilish glare, almost daring them to try and make a move. On special occasions, he likes to buy you light purple flowers, “they remind me of the sky when we had our first kiss.” He helps with cooking and cleaning, always fully taking over when you don’t feel good. He makes sure to give you lots of hugs and kisses everyday, and even comes home with a gift for you at least once a week. He makes you feel safe, loved and beautiful. You can’t help but fall in love more and more everyday.

MINGI

He’s the type of man that would walk through hell and back just to see you smile. He makes sure you feel safe in new places you go and will hold your hand if he sensed your anxiety. He finds fun places to take you on dates, sometimes it’s deep in the woods and other times it’s your bedroom decorated with pretty lights and a fort. He knows all your favourite things and remembers important dates better than you. He can only fall asleep once you have, it makes me feel calm knowing you’re getting rest. He makes you breakfast every morning, so he knew you had something to eat that day. You have a date night one a week, picking a fast food restaurant and taking a drive around. He’s understanding, supportive and loves you more than words can express.

warnings: wait do I need to add these? I’m gonna anyways - petnames used: baby boy & pretty girl

SAN

In bed, he is weak for you. He lets you take control and have your way with him, he won’t admit it but he loves when you choke him. He lets you boss him around and tell him what to do, almost melting into you when you call him baby boy. When you don’t feel like being in control, he will take the reins and treat you with care, making sure you’re fully satisfied. His favourite position is the bridge, cause he gets to see how pretty you are and feels as if it’s the deepest connection you can have. When you’re done, he holds you close, giving kisses anywhere his lips can reach. After a hot shower together, you cuddle up in bed and turn on your comfort show, bound to fall asleep in San’s arms.

MINGI

He wants you to know that you’re his. Always calling you his princess, his pretty girl. His. He leaves you covered in bruises and hickies, often getting lost in the intense moments you were sharing. He loves when you hold hands during sex, always looking for an opportunity to lace your fingers together. Some days he fucks you so hard you can’t walk for a good while after, other days he’s so gentle and spends a majority of his time between your legs. When your both satisfied or warm out, he’ll run a bath for you both and sing to you quietly until you’re ready for bed.

[justabigoldnerd]

Find The Word Game

Haha thank you so much for the tag again, @the-golden-comet !!

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

My Words: hope, realize, tandem, fall

Your Words: chain, country, neutral, instinct

Hope: (From an unnamed MCD ficlet I may or may not have the balls to finish lol)

What if Gaby was right? It wouldn't be unlike their American partner to fake his death. But he would've told them somehow, wouldn't he? Gotten word to them so they didn't think he was actually dead. The CIA, then? Severing the last of his connections to people he cared for, who cared for him? Surely, when Illya opened the left eye, he would see that the man on the table wasn't his Cowboy. Taking a deep breath, Illya pushed upwards, revealing a thin, dull ring of blue in the center of a blood-filled eye, almost swallowed by the blown pupil. A knot formed in Illya's throat. A knot of hope.

Realize: (From "Never Fall In Love With A Stranger", a Library AU)

Illya loves this library. He's been going to it since his mother moved them from Moscow when he was twelve years old. The staff were always kind when the kids at school weren't, so he'd end up there most days. Then when he got older and began getting into fights, Ms. Kathy from the Children's Center always had an ice pack, butterfly stitches, and a snack ready for him. They never asked why or how he ended up with split lips and bloody noses, they just cared for him when he felt that no one else in the world did. He knew every inch of the building, from the aforementioned Children's Center, to the Reference Desk and non-fiction section, even the older ladies in the Heritage Center that he only visited to chat with. So when the first new face in almost twenty years shows up behind the Reference Desk, Illya notices immediately. And he feels….angry, for some reason. Betrayed. He isn't sure why, but the change makes his heartbeat thunder in his ears. There is a stranger in his library. A toddler shoots past him from the Children's Center, and only then does Illya realize he's been rooted to the spot. His face heats and he shakes himself out of his frozen state, pushing forward and resolving to spend the day with Mrs. Denise and Mrs. Patricia.

Tandem: (From "I Am Your Lover (I Am Your Jailor)" . I actually had to write a new sentence to include this word lol I've never written it!)

The sunlight was warm and soft, reflecting off of the last of the dew dampening the forest and making it glitter like emeralds. Solo's jaw was set in a purposefully neutral expression, but his knuckles were white on the reins. Parsdorf shook his coat to shake off some of the tension he was feeling, and Artem, riding tandem to him, sighed heavily.

Fall: (From "The X-Men From U.N.C.L.E.")

Gaby kept a two-way radio hidden on her at all times. She could tap into the frequency of it somehow and hear through it. That was how she was able to hide her deafness for so long. She was in high-school when a pack of boys a grade above her cornered her and took her radio, plunging her back unto silence while they laughed and jeered and threw it between them. The leader of them crouched in front of a trembling Gaby and spat something at her that she couldn't hear, waggling the radio in the air. When she didn't respond, he stood up and let it fall from his hand. Gaby flinched and tears stung at her eyes, but she kept her glare level, even as he stomped it to pieces.

No pressure to make a new one or use these new words for anyone who has already done/is planning on doing on of these!!! Gonna no-pressure-tag my usuals anyway 💕💕💕

@pippinoftheshire @yallwildinrn @huggiebird @too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight

@cha-melodius @heytheredeann @thattripleabattery and anyone else who wants to join!!