#THE ONLY THING I WAS EVER GOOD FOR WAS MY BRAINS BUT I LOST THEM
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Scarlet Haze - Part 2
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~6.2K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Series Summary: Life in the QZ was fairly predictable. That was, until Joel Miller showed up on your doorstep covered in blood. Since then, you've helped him more times than you can count. Now it's his turn to return the favor.
Series Warnings: SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. Set in the TLOU universe in the Boston QZ. Buckle the fuck up for a lot of filthy, feral smut. Check chapter warnings for specifics. This series will follow them through current day.
Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Blood. Sexual tension. Bloody knuckles/wounded Joel. Flirting. Alcohol. Male masturbation. Voyeurism. Pearl Jam. Drug-seeking behavior. Medical references. Crying. Hallucinations similar to a drug high. Euphoria. Damsel in distress trope. Pet names. Praise kink. Begging. Unprotected P in V. Oral (female receiving). Fingering. Use of daddy. Age gap (make it your own!). No use of Y/N. Reader has no physical descriptions. Let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Surprise! It's here early (probably the only time you'll be glad something came early). Part 2 as part of my contribution to @morallyinept's Flora and Fauna Challenge. Part 3 coming 5/19.
Part 1 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications
“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.”
― Stephen Chbosky
Joel Miller is a bad man.
It wasn’t always this way – there was a time when he thought he was good, kind even, a gentleman through and through, just like his momma raised him to be.
But those days are long gone. Nowadays, the things he does are far from decent.
What he’s doing right now tops the list.
He should avoid it. He knows he should.
Whatever this feeling is, it’s entirely alien to him—like a cocktail of a thousand potent drugs coursing through his veins, igniting an instinctive physical response. His heart pounds furiously, and a searing heat prickles his skin. He feels lightheaded, probably from the blood rushing anywhere and everywhere except for his brain.
He tries to reason with himself that he can wait— he should wait. Wait for you to wake up, do your typical doctor business, pull out a magic pill or some bullshit, and you’ll both be well on your way.
He should wait. A good man would wait.
But then you started whimpering.
Fucking whimpering.
It was soft, just a whisper; he almost second-guessed it, but then you said his name clear as day, drawing him closer to the edge of control.
“Joel, please,” you moan, spread out on the dusty sheets, lost in a daydream he wishes he was part of, totally unaware of your actions.
He palms himself through his denim, hips titled forward as he sits on a wood chair that he’s not all too convinced can bear his weight after years of abandonment, but he could give two shits about that right now.
“Yes, oh god, yes, just like that,” you moan again, your hand inching closer to your center, chasing friction of any kind. He wonders if you’re wet right now, how sweet you must taste.
Fuck it.
If he's destined for hell, he might as well make it worth the trip.
He unhooks his belt and yanks down his zipper, forcefully pulling his pants down to bunch around the muscular expanse of his thighs
Heavy cock in hand, he takes a second to admire it. It’s a fat, healthy one with a little curve to the left and a prominent vein running up the side. He’s a blessed man – in this regard, anyway.
He rises to full attention, and his hand rises with it, thick, strong fingers just about meeting his thumb as they curl around him. He savors the first proper stroke, the shift from teasing to relief.
He’s so fucking hard. He’s not sure he’s ever been this hard.
His skin feels like velvet wrapped around steel. Even at the end of the world, hell, even before it, he’s not sure touching himself has ever felt like this.
As the edges of his vision begin to soften and blur, he focuses on you. He empties his mind into thoughts of you and only you – how good you’d feel, your tight cunt wrapped around him, creaming on him as you chant his name like a prayer.
Fuck.
His head falls back to lean against the wall, eyes tightly shut, his hand still working as he conjures up images of you bent over for him as he watches his cock slide in and out of your wet heat.
It feels like his whole system has been turned on, his body flooded with adrenaline, the frantic thud of his pulse in his ears now palpable against his palm, too.
Just then, you blink open your eyes, and the remnants of your daydream evaporate like a mist in the morning sun. For a moment, you’re unsure where you are, the room spinning gently in your haze.
The last thing you remember is being in the flower field with him, and now you’re on a bed that hasn’t seen a warm body in over a decade. How did he?
You drop the thought when you feel the air, thick with a heavy, sweet scent that tugs at the edges of your consciousness. You feel hot, every nerve ending tingling uncomfortably. Breathing feels difficult, each breath deep and labored. It’s as if your lungs are struggling under a heavy weight, a need you can’t quite pinpoint.
Your gaze slowly shifts from the ceiling to the corner of the room, and that's when you spot him.
Sunlight streams through the grime-streaked windows, casting beams that light up the swirling dust in the air. As your eyes adjust, the details come into sharp focus, cutting through the haze in your mind like a knife.
Oh. He’s —
You must still be dreaming; you must. There’s no way this is happening.
Your stomach flutters and flips, enough physical proof that you see what you think you do.
You take a moment to admire him, his cock, the glistening precum that’s gathered at the tip of it, the soft groans coming from his chest. The way his thick neck is angeled back perfectly presents his Adam's apple and the nape of his throat.
You adjust to prop yourself up slightly.
"Joel," you coo, his name dripping from your lips like nectar from a flower.
He pauses at the sound of your voice, and time suspends for a moment. If he weren’t so fucked out, he might think to stop what he’s doing, might even feel embarrassed that he was caught.
But right now, part of him wants you to watch.
When he tilts his head up, you’re staring at him with a look he can’t quite place, but holy fuck, you’re beautiful.
Seeing your own lust-filled eyes, knowing you're watching what he’s doing to himself, consumes him.
“See what you do to me,” he groans, holding your stare as he fucks his fist, jaw slack and balls tight.
It’s so intense. He’s intense.
“Wanna see you,” he rasps, and you’re more than happy to oblige.
You work to undo the buttons of your jeans, desperate to touch yourself – dazed and dizzy.
You haven’t even touched him and you’re already cock drunk, tipsy with the need to touch him. You can’t stop it, not even if you tried. It feels like this moment was always meant to happen, and everything in life—the good and the bad — has led up to it.
Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, you stand to walk over to him, but the floor rushes up unexpectedly. As gravity claims you, a different kind of pull—a magnetic force you've felt since the night you met him—lingers in your mind.
You think you hear him call your name as the ceiling swirls into shades of red, patterns like a kaleidoscope painted behind your lids, and you’re living that night again before you can be sure.
++++
Boston QZ, Fall 2022
The bar's dim lights hardly penetrate the thick air and despair that seems to stick to everything inside the QZ. You shove open the heavy metal door and step inside. The noise—a mix of wood chairs scraping against the ground and low conversations—briefly spikes before settling as the door thuds shut behind you.
It's been a long, tough shift at the clinic, leaving you feeling bone tired.
The bar—if you can even call it that—has a worn appeal. As your eyes get used to the dimness, you head straight for the counter.
The bartender, a middle-aged guy with a scar trailing down his cheek like a tear track, gives you a quick nod in greeting.
“Hey, Tom,” you greet him with a tired smile. “I’ll have a chardonnay.”
Tom chuckles, wiping down a glass with a rag that has seen better days.
“Doc,” he nods. “Best I can do is beer. Got a fresh batch that’s more hops than rust this time.”
“Sold,” you laugh, settling onto a stool and pushing him one of your ration cards. “Make it a cold one, if you can remember what cold feels like.”
Your eyes drift across the bar as Tom turns to fetch your drink. That’s when you notice him—a rugged man nursing a beer, his presence almost as worn as the leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders.
His knuckles are raw, the skin split, and a dark bruise blooms around his left eye. It’s an impressive shiner that catches your attention more than it probably should.
You lean slightly on the bar, the wood cool under your arms, and a half-smile forms on your lips when you catch his eye. “You really should have someone check that out,” you say, nodding toward his hand, the flirtation in your voice unmistakable.
His eyes assess you momentarily, weighing your words, maybe even your presence here talking to him.
He curls his right hand into a fist, the skin tight and pale over the knuckles. “This?” His voice, rough as gravel, carries a hint of nonchalance. “It’ll heal eventually.” As he speaks, his words stretch out with a slow Southern drawl, wrapped in a weariness you can almost touch.
“Must have been quite the fight,” you remark, accepting the beer Tom slides in front of you. “Or a really stubborn door.”
A trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Something like that.”
“You know,” you continue, sipping the beer and finding it surprisingly not terrible, “I’m pretty good with stitches and less good with doors. If you ever need a hand…”
His dark eyes flick back to you, pausing on your lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You sip your drink, the corners of your lips twitching upward slightly. Turning to face him fully, you let your eyes roam over his features, openly appreciating the chisel of his jaw and the facial hair that covers it. He’s handsome.
He doesn’t ask for your name, but the silence feels like an invitation. Leaning a bit closer, you raise an eyebrow playfully. "And you are?" your voice lilts at the end, lingering on the anticipation.
"Joel Miller," he says, his voice a deep rumble that cuts through the bar noise. His handshake is firm but careful as if he's mindful not to hurt despite the roughness of his hands.
"Joel Miller—I like that," you reply, holding his gaze a little longer than necessary, your hand still clasped in his. You gently turn his hand to inspect the battered knuckles, not having to work hard to imagine the sting you know he feels.
A shout from across the bar catches your attention; your friends are waving you over. You turn towards them, but he continues to look at you. When you turn back to him, he drops your hand quickly, almost like you burned him.
"Well, Joel Miller, I guess I'll see you around," you say with a hint of promise.
He nods, “Maybe so.”
As you walk away, you feel his thoughtful, dark, and hungry eyes still fixed on you.
The intensity of his stare sends a shiver down your spine as you move toward the laughter and warmth of your friends waiting at a table near the back.
You feel the pull of curiosity that makes you want to look back, but you don’t.
++++
Later that week, you’re pulling a late night at the clinic.
"Fuck," you moan, bringing your hands to your temples and rubbing them slightly. You're exhausted. When are you not?
You don't have a clock in the clinic, but you know it's probably close to curfew. Every cell in your body tells you to go home, but you ignore it. At least you have the peeling paint and the constant drip from a leaky faucet to keep you company.
You’re restocking a shelf in the lobby when the front door slams open violently. A man staggers in, his eyes bloodshot, clothes tattered, and reeking of what you don’t even want to know. You straighten up and quickly reach into your coat pocket, your grip finding a scalpel from earlier. Using your thumb, you work to remove the cap and position it between your fingers should you need to use it.
"I need some meds," he growls, slamming his fists down on the reception desk. "The strong stuff, now!"
"Sir, I need you to calm down," you say, trying to keep your voice even despite the adrenaline surge. "I can help, but first, you need to tell me what's wrong."
"Listen here you little bitch, I don’t need advice; I need fucking pills!" he bellows, his voice echoing off the walls. Suddenly, he lunges over the counter, grabbing your arm with a firm grip.
You struggle to pull away, but he’s too strong. You try your scalpel, but he slaps it away. Panic spikes as he twists your arm behind your back and slams you against the counter. Pain shoots through your shoulder, sharp and blinding.
Just then, the door to the clinic bursts open with a force that makes the entire room shake. You barely have time to register the figure rushing in, his movements fast and determined.
And then you see him.
Joel Miller.
His expression is set in a hard line, eyes pinpointing the man pinning you down. Without a word, he grabs the man by the collar and yanks him away from you. The man flails, trying to swing at Joel, but he’s too quick, too angry. He lands a solid punch to the man's jaw, sending him reeling backward into one of the shelves.
"You okay?" he asks, turning to you with concern etched on his face. His hands are still clenched into fists.
Breathing heavily, you nod, rubbing your bruised arm. The pain is sharp, and you know you'll be feeling it tomorrow, but you’re relieved to be free from the man's grasp.
"I think so?" you manage to say, trying to steady your voice as you back away from the counter to put some distance between yourself and the now-groaning figure on the floor.
Joel’s eyes find the man as he slowly picks himself up, giving him a warning glare that promises more if he tries anything again. "Come in here again, and I’ll make sure a broken jaw is the least of your worries," he threatens. Is he always this intense? The man, clutching his jaw and mumbling curses, stumbles out of the clinic.
Once gone, Joel turns back to you, his expression softening. "Let me look at your arm," he says, gently taking it in his hands, his touch careful as he examines the bruising.
“Playing doctor today, are we?" you tease with a smirk.
Joel's chuckle rumbles low and warm, melting some of the tension from your shoulders.
"I'm not, but you could've fooled me," he replies, his touch light as he examines your arm. His eyes hold a soft concern that seems at odds with his typically rugged exterior.
“Didn’t know you were a doctor.”
"Do a lot of women at the bar tell you they’re good at giving stitches?" you quip, watching his reaction.
“Alright, smartass, point taken," he teases, releasing your arm. You gently massage the sore skin.
"How did you know I was in trouble?"
Joel leans against the counter, his brow set as he watches you rub your arm.
"Let's just say I've got good instincts.”
"Instincts, huh?" You say, stepping closer. "I suppose next you’ll say that it was just my luck that you happened to wander by when you did?”
His eyes lock with yours.
"I think you're lucky I came when I did," he agrees, his tone serious now.
"Yeah," you agree, a wave of gratitude washing over you. The clinic is suddenly quiet, and you both look at each other momentarily. Everything suddenly feels heavy.
“Too bad there’s no lottery anymore—I could've used some of that luck earlier,” you joke. Stupid.
Joel shakes his head, eyes still scanning your face, perhaps looking for injuries you hadn't mentioned.
"Really, you should be more careful," he chides. "It’s not safe to be out here alone this close to curfew."
"I usually manage fine," you assert, trying not to let his concern make you feel like you can't handle your job. "Tonight was just... unexpected."
"Doesn't mean it won't happen again. You should think about having someone here with you during late shifts," Joel suggests, his voice low and insistent.
You consider his words, knowing he's right, but it’s also not like people in the QZ are lining up to care for people who aren’t themselves.
Joel seems to read your mind. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he says, stepping back, giving you space. His eyes still hold that fierce protective glint.
"I promise.”
Joel nods once, satisfied. "Good.”
You give him another small smile and think he sees the thank you behind it.
He nods again, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. As he walks towards the door, you watch him go, feeling a mix of emotions—appreciation, relief, and that same magnetic pull from last night.
“Joel?” you call out, halting his steps. “You like whiskey?”
Joel turns, a curious arch lifting his brow as he shifts from his reserved demeanor.
"Yeah, I like whiskey," he replies. "Why, you offering?"
A playful smile dances on your lips.
"Maybe I am," you say, considering for a moment. "How about a thank-you drink? My place isn't far."
For a moment, Joel just looks at you, assessing.
"Lead the way, Doc,” he says, his voice carrying a warmth you haven’t heard before.
++++
You unlock the door to your unit, stepping aside to let him in. "Make yourself comfortable," you say, gesturing vaguely towards the living room. Joel nods and walks through the threshold. As he passes, you notice that he smells slightly sweet and smoky, with a rich, woody undertone.
He takes a seat on the worn couch that’s a carry over from the 80’s, it creaks under his weight. He settles back, his knees spreading wide, and makes himself at home.
Heading into the kitchen, you rummage through the cabinets before finding an old bottle of whiskey. You don’t own any glasses.
You call out to Joel, "I hope you don’t mind sharing with me." You unscrew the cap, take a swig directly from the bottle, and feel the warm burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.
You cough. “It's not great, but it’s the best I’ve got.”
Carrying the bottle back to the living room, you pass it to Joel with a playful wink. "Your turn," you say, watching him take his swig with an approving nod. He takes a moment to assess the bottle; not bad for decade-old Tennessee whiskey.
As he drinks, you walk over to a shelf cluttered with various knickknacks and pull out an old battery-powered CD player. Rifling through the modest stack of CDs you’ve traded more ration cards for than you care to admit, you pull out the one you're after and slide it into the player.
As the first chords of Pearl Jam's "Alive" reverberate through the room, Joel's head swivels, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Holy shit. Pearl Jam?" he says, his voice tinged with surprise.
"You know ‘em?" you respond, settling beside him on the couch.
He looks at you with a you’ve got to be serious look.
“Yeah, darlin’, I know ‘em. Pretty sure I was listening to them before you were even born.”
“Oh please,” you laugh, gently elbowing him in the ribs as you snatch the whiskey bottle back. “I’m not that young.”
“Pretty sure I’m old enough to be your daddy,” he looks at you. You’re not sure who moved closer, you or him. You feel the solid warmth of his thigh pressed firmly against yours, sending a spark through you.
You turn and look up at him through your lashes.
“Is that what you want to be?” You feel a little thrill as you watch his pupils dilate, and his jaw tightens.
You take another swig from the bottle, and his eyes linger on your lips and the shine from the amber liquid on them.
“My daddy,” you emphasize the word daddy with a suggestive tone. His hands flex on his thighs. You can tell he’s holding back, trying to maintain composure. He blushes a little; you notice.
Your words hang in the air. You decide to go easy on him. For now.
“I’m just fucking with you; that’s not really my thing,” you lie. You take another sip from the bottle, and you feel the alcohol coursing through your veins, your cheeks warming from the combination of the whiskey and his burning gaze. Your muscles feel a little gooey, and your bones feel lighter.
“All yours, cowboy,” you say, passing him the bottle. His left-hand kitten kisses yours as he grabs it, and even though it was just a brief touch, you still feel it afterward. You bring your free hand to his resting on his thigh. His knuckles have started to heal, but scabs still linger.
“You gonna tell me how you got this for real this time?” Your fingers gently explore the rough texture of his skin, tracing the prominent veins that stand out beneath. He clenches his hand into a fist, looking at you with an intensity that suggests you don’t want to know.
"Alright Miller, keep your secrets then," you murmur playfully, leaning in so your side body is pressed against his arm. You gently pluck the bottle from his grasp and set it aside on the table. Sliding onto his lap, you straddle him, your thighs framing his sides.
“Wh – what are you doin’?”
"If you won't tell me, the least you can do is kiss me," you suggest, your fingers weaving through his hair, using it to tilt him up to look at you. His eyes flicker to your lips, and his hand cradles your face as you inch nearer. His thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch wanders, trailing from your neck to your waist, each movement charged with tension.
Suddenly, he shifts, flipping you onto your back with a smooth motion. Your back hits the cushions and a small oof escapes your lungs. Your thighs are still bracketing him. The pressure of his hips against your center makes your insides flutter.
“You’re a needy little thing, arentcha?”
Mhmm, you moan, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer to you. The hardness you feel pressed up on your hips makes you a little desperate.
God, you’re perfect, he thinks. So warm and willing, making it so easy for him.
You’ve been fairly obvious in your flirting with him. He hasn’t been with a woman in a while, but he sure as shit wasn’t born yesterday. A voice in his mind tells him this might be the liquor talking, not you. Or worse, he thinks you might feel like you owe him something for helping you out earlier.
He wants you, but not like this.
"I think you're a little drunk, darlin'," he whispers, his voice low and teasing. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, noses so close they touch.
“So what if I am?” you giggle.
“Kiss me, Miller.” His eyes fall to your lips.
You close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but instead, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead.
"I should go," he murmurs, pulling away and standing up. "Get some sleep," he adds, his voice mingling with the music. Before you can reach for him, he's out the door, leaving you wet, tipsy, and confused.
By the time Joel returned to his unit, the ache in his jeans was almost too much to bear.
He fucked his hand twice that night, once to the thought of how you felt on top of him, your hips rocking into his, and the other to the thought of what your lips might feel like pressed against his.
He wanted to kiss you. He wants to kiss you.
And while his cock might have other thoughts on the matter, he’s never been one to take advantage. Joel knows he’s a bad man, but he’s not bad enough to do that to you.
He’s done many hard things, but walking away from you at that moment might be near the top of the list.
++++
You feel his fingers on your forearm, gently tracing up and down on the skin there when you open your eyes. He’s sitting on the bed next to you. His voice, a heavy mix of concern and warmth now, steadies your spinning world. You try and sit up. What the actual fuck is happening? Wasn’t he…just?
"Hey, take it easy," Joel murmurs, guiding you gently back against the pillows.
As you settle, the dizzying spin of the room slows, and you're met with Joel's intense stare. He's studying you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of unease and something deeper, something unspoken.
"You okay?" His voice is a soft murmur, barely rising above the whistle from the broken window across the room.
You nod, but your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest —not just from the disorienting fall, but from the closeness of him. The magnetic pull you've felt since the beginning is more palpable now, impossible to ignore. You blink away the last clouds of your dizziness and focus on him. His shirt clings to him, damp with sweat; his usually neat hair begins to curl at the edges, and there's a tightness in his expression that mirrors the pain you feel.
You’re aching, not in your muscles or bones; no, it’s deeper than that. It's like the pull of a wave threatening to take you under tow.
"Yeah, just,” you sigh. “Joel, I feel so weird," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m so hot,” you say, and admitting it out loud overwhelms you.
“I know, baby, me too,” Joel responds softly, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder,
He’s so sweet and tender. The nickname lingers in your mind and plays on a loop.
Baby. Baby.
Warmth spreads up from your chest, a burning sensation that lodges behind your ribcage, familiar yet overwhelming. Tears start to prick your eyes, and before you can hold them back, they stream down your face.
You're crying now, not just from the discomfort but from everything—the closeness, the concern in his voice, the way he keeps calling you baby, and the deep ache it all stirs within you.
“Stupid fucking flower,” you say through your tears.
“What’s that now?”
“In the field—the flower, the colorful one I showed you. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I remembered reading about it in a book about herbal remedies.”
“And you think this flower has something to do with what’s wrong with us right now?” he questions.
“I don’t remember what it’s called, but I remember reading a warning about it –”
He doesn’t say anything; he just looks at you, patiently waiting for you to finish your thought.
“The flower,” you sniffle. “Well, the sap and pollen of the flower, I should say, have some strange side effects if ingested or put into the bloodstream…”
“Go on, baby.”
There it is again. Baby.
“It causes extreme arousal, light-headedness, and a shit ton of other things I don’t remember.”
“Oh. Well, that explains –”
“Yeah,” you cut him off, already knowing what he wanted to say. You use the back of your hand to wipe away some moisture from your face, but there’s no point; you still feel the tears falling. You close your eyes and try to will the discomfort from your mind.
“It's okay, darlin'," he murmurs, "I’m here. We'll just let it run its course, alright?" His arms envelop you, drawing you tightly against the solid warmth of his chest. Gently, he cradles the curve of your head in his hand, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady against your ear. You open your eyes, and through your wet vision, you look down and see that he’s still hard.
“Joel, I –” his hand floats to the column of your neck, holding you to look at him.
“What do you need, baby?”
“I need you to fuck me.”
Shit. No going back now.
“I can’t do that. We’re not in the right state of mind. I don’t want to take advan–”
“Joel, please,” you say through your tears.
He looks at you like he’s at war with his mind and body; your desperate doe eyes stare back at him.
His cock twitches.
He’s been in pain ever since you hit the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to finish after you passed out again. How could he? He was too worried about you. Every fiber of his being was screaming to cum, but the concern he held for you overrode it all.
“Joel, I’m begging you,” you plead.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yeah—yes. Joel, I need you,” you respond quickly, already moving to drag the unbuttoned jeans off your body. He’s still unmoving, and his body feels like molasses—viscous and sluggish. You’ve rid yourself of your shirt when you command his attention again, “Joel!”
“Fuck, yeah – okay,” he takes off his shirt, and you help him with his buckle. He undoes his jeans once more while you make quick work of removing your bra and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him.
“Lay back, baby, need to taste you.” You do as he says, letting your knees fall to the sides until you’re spread open for him. He comes to his knees on the bed, the mattress groaning under his weight.
“God damn, darlin’ — could cum just from lookin’ at you like this,” he says, stroking his cock. You thought he was big when you saw him in the corner, but seeing him this close, really seeing him, is another story.
He collapses onto his stomach between your legs, his breath warm against your skin. Gently, he presses his lips to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, delivering a playful nip that sends a shiver through you.
“Wanna taste you – you have no idea how bad I want to taste you,” he groans as he breathes in your scent, the tip of his aquiline nose bumps against your clit. You’re so keyed up already, a dripping mess for him, your aching clit just begging for a bit of attention.
He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. He clamps his eyes shut and groans. “So fuckin’ sweet, baby.”
Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your mound and then gently parts his lips, allowing his tongue to lick through your dripping folds.
“Please,” You cry, with one hand gripping the worn fabric of the bedspread and one tugging on his messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth.
“I’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry, ‘m here,” he whispers before returning his attention to you.
Your vision fills with glittering spots while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, you think, but you can’t be sure; your sense of time is fully warped.
He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their death grip on the fabric. You feel your peak approaching. It feels different, like euphoria injected straight into your veins.
Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick fingers into your wet heat.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he mumbles against your skin. He picks up his pace and then adds another finger, one your greedy cunt happily accepts. He hooks them slightly so they’re pressing against the spongey spot inside you that you can never seem to reach yourself.
“Come on, baby. Wanna feel you.”
His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and then tension inside you releases all at once, snaps, and hurtles you into another dimension.
As if the cosmos has poured all its beauty into a single moment, the wave of your orgasm breaks—an explosion of white light, pure and cleansing, sweeping away all that came before, cooling the fire raging inside of you.
Joel works you through it, his fingers keeping a steady rhythm as you come down, coated in a gentle rain of shimmering particles, bathed in a serene and growing peace, and you catch your breath.
“I’ve–I’ve never felt anything like that,” you pant, “That was amazing.”
“It was pretty pretty to watch, too,” he tells you, rising between your legs. His hand comes to his cock again, holding it by the base. He’s furiously hard, the tip of him drooling, the color of it a deep, rich shade of violet.
“I need you, baby, so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, voice wrecked.
You spread your legs open a little wider for him, bringing your hands to your knees, spreading your glistening cunt open for him.
“She’s all yours,” you coo, and he’s on you. He arranges himself above you, his forearms taking the brunt of his weight, yet the impressive heft of him presses down, enveloping you in his presence. His broadness looms, an expansive canopy; he eclipses your view, and all that exists in this moment is him. You wrap your fingers around his midsection, and he lines the tip of himself up with your wet and waiting hole.
“You’re mine,” he tells you like it’s a fact, not a statement, as he pushes his hips forward and buries his cock deep inside of you. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. There’s a dull sting, but it quickly dissipates as he pulls out of you slowly and then thrusts forward again. The slow drag of his cock against your walls, the tip of it kissing your cervix, sends you into a frenzy.
“Faster – ah shit, harder –” you moan and he begins to ravage you without mercy, kissing and nipping at the razor edge of your jaw, the tip of your chin. Your moans are muffled against his skin, cries of pleasure that rise in pitch with each thrust forward.
“Mmm, you’re so warm,” he huffs and moans above you as he fucks away at your tight core. “Feels so good, not gonna last long like this. Tight little pussy’s choking me too good.”
The familiar, odd sensation washes over you again, that strange mix of feeling both insubstantial and overwhelmingly heavy. It's as if you're simultaneously a feather, drifting weightlessly, and a boulder, rooted deeply and immovably. This feeling lifts and anchors you, leaving you floating between reality and a dreamlike state.
You focus on the feeling of his thrusts.
Back and forth.
In and out.
Back and forth.
In and out.
You’re drunk off it, off him.
He snakes his hand behind your body to grab your ass for extra leverage, allowing him to slam into you harder, his hips thrusting against yours. The thatch of dark hair at the base of him rubs up against your swollen clit. You feel like you’re getting fucked into near unconsciousness, your eyes heavy and half-lidded.
“Joel,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m so close, oh my god, please.”
Joel’s eyes roll shut as you wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, holding on for dear life as he fucks you like a man possessed.
“That’s it baby, beg for it,” he tells you, and you do.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” you cry out, “Daddy, please.”
“Jesus, fuck,” Joel groans as he feels your walls clamp down on him, your orgasm gripping you like a fever.
“Good fucking girl,” he praises.
Tears once again stream from your face, this time from pleasure, as he splits you open even more.
He repositions, bringing your knees to your chest, holding them together with his strong arms as he continues to push in and out of you.
The tension builds, a gathering storm within him. Every nerve seems to tighten, coil, ready to spring. His world narrows and blurs until there’s only you and the tight feel of your pussy around him.
“Gonna come,” he tells you, and his thrusts slow.
His breath catches, and he quickly pulls out of you. Then, the release comes— your legs fall to the sides again, and a spray of his cum lands on you, hot thick ropes of it drooling from his cock.
He’s floored by relief, pleasure radiating through his body. It's like watching the sky split open with light after a storm—vivid, raw, and beautifully clear.
The aftermath is quiet, a soft descent back into himself, marked by a satisfying stillness.
He drops to the bed beside you, and you both stare at the ceiling, breathless, nothing but prey ensnared in a web of desire.
He looks at you, his deep brown eyes now soft and satisfied.
“So…Daddy, huh?”
Part 3 - Coming 5/19
A/N Continued: Okay ngl, I am down so bad for these two. If you are, too, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Your feedback and interaction really are so special to me.
Tags: @syd-djarin @endlessthxxghts @thereaperisabitch @caramilena @promptly-mercy @alex-does-art-things @swankyorange @ayishahislost @bensonispunk @doblasftcisco @lizlil @pigeonmama @sullyselena @deansimpalagirl @theelectricmind @pedropascalsbbg @laramc-02 @elegantduckturtle @rainbow12346 @senoratess @eff4freddie @auteurdelabre @yxtkiwiyxt @javipispunk @reedrchards @miller-n-morgan @sawymredfox @casa-boiardi @punkshort @pastawench @survivingandenduring @aspecialgreenie @puduvallee @moel-jiller @sheepdogchick3
#joel miller smut#joel miler x fem!reader#joel miller x reader#sex pollen#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller the last of us#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#pedrostories#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#jettsflora&faunachallenge
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I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE I'M A FAILURE
#all caps#vent#vent post#venting#text post#failure#fear of failure#low self worth#mental illness#<< admin tags#IM A FAILURE IM A FAILURE IM A FAILURE#I NEVER AMOUNTED TO ANYTHING#I CRUSHED MY FAMILYS DREAMS OF FINANCIAL SECURITY WITH MY SELFISHNESS#I THREW AWAY RELATIONSHIPS I CHERISHED JUST BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING SAD#I WORRY EVERY DAY IS THE DAY MY HUSBAND LEAVES ME#I STILL DONT HAVE KIDS OR A HOUSE OR EVEN A FUCKING DOG#I NEVER WENT TO GRAD SCHOOL#IM TOO SICK TO HAVE HOBBIES OUTSIDE MY OWN HOME#I CAN'T EVEN MAINTAIN MY HOME#THE ONLY THING I WAS EVER GOOD FOR WAS MY BRAINS BUT I LOST THEM#I HAVENT CREATED ANYTHING BEAUTIFUL OR PROFOUND OR WORTHWHILE#I HAVENT MADE BANK#I HAVENT DONE ANYTHING TO MEDICALLY TRANSITION#IVE NEVER KISSED A GIRL#I STILL CANT AFFORD TO VISIT MY NEPHEW#I STILL BARELY KNOW MY SISTER#I HATE IT HERE I HATE IT HERE I HATE IT HERE#SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF MY OWN HEAD I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE
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I hope someone writes a good fic about the high cloud quintet with all the messy pieces of lore we have because i'm very unsatisfied with what we got and I want MORE OF THEM. don't know why i'm so obsessed with this tragic group of friends but 😭 IM SO FEELINGS ABOUT THEM but also empty because they didn't satisfy me with what they gave us lmao I require more. but that was the end and i'll never get more....unless someone writes a great fic about them.....!
#hsr#lee text#one of the things that bothered me most was not seeing dan heng react to learning about blade/yingxing? hrm#everything in star rail seems super disconnected and rushed and i wish they could do the stories better#so i need someone to write a thing and fill in the gaps and add more and satisfy my need for a good story about these tragic losers#i want more baiheng because she seemed like the most adorable lovable thing 😭#i want more yingxing because i love him a lot for some reason i cant even figure out#i want jing yuan before he became a very sad and distant and lonely old man whose constant smile seems painfully fake.....#i want to see more of jing liu before she went crazy with mara#i want the gay and the lesbian hoyo cant give for legal reasons (xingyue/bailiu)#i want a story maybe starting with them meeting. becoming close and very good friends#maybe leading to their end dbdndnksksks it would hurt but im sure fandom writers can write it better than the game writers😅#im just rambling and reading makes me fall asleep and idk if anyone would ever write this but 😭#idk why my brain even clung onto them so much. theres other tragic friend stories this didnt happen with. why this one#i'd love a comic/manga about this group too but that even less likely than a fic. im sure other people like this group too#and maybe one is a fic writer. but an entire manga piece about them is unlikely 😅#its just easier for me to read when i can SEE it. thats just a preference tho#i feel like lore accurate fics arent as common tho? like taking all the lore you know and piecing it together into a whole story?#not that i read fics much so idk what im talking about but 99.9% if ones ive see are just ship fics only#what am i talking about i lost my train of thought lmao#anyway jingliu better come home. im at like 60 pity. where is she!!!!!!
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sometimes I think about how I was legitimately the most hated and bullied kid in my entire class, and probably entire school. I knew this as a fact. there was nothing I could do about it. not just by the kids either, but the teachers/staff as well. all because I was autistic and unable to speak and they didn't want to treat me decently. and I ask why. (rhetorically of course, because I know all the excuses given as answers)
being an autistic kid and knowing damn well this is true, that you're the most hated person in the entire building with not a single person on your side, knowing you're the main target for everyone's aggression every day, is....truly something. you know. like carrying the weight of everyone's hatred and negativity on your back alone, being their punching bag, internalizing their hatred for then. from ages 4 to 18. nonstop. never getting better. never knowing why. not being able to stop it. never getting any help. on your own and alone. blamed for it all.
yet i'm simply told to "get over it/stop caring" and get blamed for it fucking me up and having a lasting effect. lmao ok. let me just forget more than half my life existed at this point and magically get better! thanks!
#those assholes are lucky I didn't have the heartless soul to take revenge on them or something.#instead it just became internalized trauma 🙃#lee rambles#autistic#autism#actually autistic#school trauma#what would they have done if i lost my shit and lashed out at them????#the most i was ever able to do was take a plastic knife and stab an apple at lunch while glaring at a table of the kids#that scared them enough to leave me alone for a few days. then theh forgot and back at it again#why is it always the victim's fault and the bullies win? even years after the fact. why cant my brain “get over it” like people tell me :/#and yes i was able to get a therapist. no it hasnt helped yet. i do all the coping stuff she suggests already#basically distractions and whatnot. no it hasnt cured me.#she always tells me i have good coping mechanisms. im doing a good job. i deal with things reallt well. ok why am i still a mess 🙃#its almost as if theres no cure and only pretending#what am i rambling about. this sounds like an emotional rant but i genuinely feel nothingness atm. just reminiscing how fucked up it all was#why were things like that allowed to be put onto one single child and why did they never get any help or justice and are blamed#s i g h s#also ive always felt like no one believed me when i said i was the most hated and bullied kid at school. it is 100% true lmao unfortunately
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NO SERIOUSLY THE SMILE CAN BE SOMETHING SO SPECIAL... because the concept originates in violence, intended as a last resort when you're cornered, a psychological bluff that might give you the upper hand... so for Arakawa to be able to recontextualize that as part of how his family communicates (along the lines of what we've talked about with regard to their language) is really something.
Especially because like, while he has varying degrees of success instilling the concept into his men, it's pretty safe to say they would all know what a smile from him means, right? They're family to him. So if there's this mix of Arakawa starting to smile more around Jo subconsciously and Jo picking up on it, maybe there's this period of consciously pulling back and of not wanting to read too much into it, respectively...
But Eventually it's this wordless affirmation of Jo having a place in Arakawa's family. Maybe he can't really put it into words in a way that doesn't make Jo feel awkward (I mean, he can't even manage that with Ichiban, much less someone with issues around that as deep-seated as Jo's, right). But he can do that much.
And I know I KNOW this bitch never has any reasons to smile but if Jo ever smiled back..................................
Anyway. Happy birthday to your bro and I'm glad you had a good day yesterday! You deserve it :) Come to think of it, my dad was born in July... and my Bestie Group Chat (ft. my friend who initially encouraged me to get over myself and send you an ask lol) was founded on Tsutsumi's birthday...
THAT'S WHAT IM SAAAAYING LIKE FUCK MAN it can be something SO personal and something SO confusing at first so when everything Clicks....... bruvv.....
#snap chats#late to answering this SORRY was having a whole episode this morning#but yeah........ you get it...... its just a concept that makes me scream and i wanna do something with it SOOO bad.... drives me insane..#its just good... great even.... Literally So Personal and unique to them and ouuuugh#DEADASS jo aint ever got SHIT to smile bout... s'why them rare-as-all-hell smiles gotta be worth a million dollars#with that out of the way... For Now because it WILL stew in my brain forever..#july the day for EVERYONE god DAAAMN ironic as hell you made your group chat on his bday tho 😩#and speaking of bdays.... it is my bros bday today... and i feel like the biggest piece of shit （；´x｀）#i told him i was leaving and i wouldnt be back until. //gestures vaguely// and he was just What 🥺??#IM SORRY BRO IM SORRYYY it just wouldnt end well i know it and so now im feeling so conflictedd#BUT THEN IT STARTED RAINING and listen i dont. HEAVILY believe in superstition or things like that#but bro every time it rains SOMETHING bad happens so now im just lost#but thats a problem for me to work out. with my sis. cause ill prob text her and be sad about it#for now ima deal with this minor toothache i got bruh OW??#ow. todays a painful day. and its only going to get worse this month cause its also my MOMS birth month#SEE EVERYONE BORN IN JULY absolute nightmare of a month.#in any case. ive just been sitting in a parking lot so i should prooobably go somewhere so bye for now :]]
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I’ve been fired exactly once in my life. In my early twenties I was working at a pizza place. The pizzas were artisanal, thin crust and personal. They’re a huge chain now but when I first started the company was in its infancy. It was the wild west of management, and the core investors would frequently stop by to check on things. One of these people was this round little man with rage issues. A knock off Danny Devito with no charisma at all.
His favorite thing to do was to come in on a Friday or Saturday night. We'd be at our stations: taking orders, making pizza, manning the oven, finishing orders off, running the cash register. He'd shove his way onto the line and start rearranging people. "You, get off orders and work the cash register, you come over and make the pizzas!" With a line of customers snaking out the door he'd throw off all our grooves and rattle us.
Then, inevitably, a mistake would happen.
When it did he'd call the person over and say, "Hey c'mere. You're fired." Just like that. No inflection, just a flat "You're fired." It was absolutely a power kink, and because of his involvement the average turn over was three months. You were a veteran at five months.
One night there was only three of us manning the front. I took an order than went to the cash register to ring them out before I made the pizza. This horrible man watched that then called me into the back. I didn't know if I was about to be fired. But I wasn't. In fact, he had one other move besides firing people. He yelled.
In the back he absolutely lost his mind screaming at me for being on the cash register. I'm talking veins popping, spit flying, red with rage, this man just started bellowing nonsensically about where I should be and how I was just such a failure. It was truly like his brain had shut off, nothing he was saying even made sense. I stood there in the face of this tirade for a minute and then set a record for being the first person to ever cut him short by bursting into tears.
He instantly stopped yelling and it was like Jekyll and Hyde. He was remorseful and consoling, deeply embarrassed by my display of emotion. All my male coworkers just took the abuse but faced with my weeping he about faced and instantly backed off. I went outside to cry and when I came back in he pretended it had never happened.
That was the state of things. The investors knew they desperately needed to keep this man out of the stores, but they couldn't just give him the boot. They needed to move him aside and fill his position with someone. The store manager was this lovely woman who had hired me on the spot at my interview. The entire staff adored her. She was the best fit to get this roided out investor out of the stores for good.
Her replacement was this man called Anthony. He was instantly loathed by the entire staff. Condescending, critical, and lazy he started off his reign by letting go a core lead who "back talked." He spent a whole morning berating the opening crew because the closing crew (who had sold 100 more pizzas than we were even supposed to have on hand) had forgotten to windex the doors. He left the entire crew to close without him while he flirted with a girl who wasn't his pregnant girlfriend. He hired his roommate to replace the lead he fired and even that guy hated his guts.
Our antipathy toward him made him paranoid and resentful and one by one he started finding excuses to fire the whole staff, certain that if he could clean house he'd be able to do the job. My time came, and he sat me down with his boss, my former manager. She cried as he announced I wasn't personable enough and used too many pepperonis.
I looked at her, the woman who had trained me on how many pepperoni to use, but she said nothing. What could she say? He was the boss now and had determined I was going to be let go regardless. Too many in this case was seven. Seven pepperonis on a personal pizza. The correct number was five according to him, which is one pepperoni per slice, and one in the middle.
I sat there for a moment, taking it in. I smiled at my old manager, obviously miserable. I looked back at him and said, "You're a terrible manager, you're doing the worst imaginable job." I outlined some of the things he'd done so she could hear them, then I stood up and left. I made it to the back room before I started crying.
I found out later through a bus boy that he replaced the whole staff with college kids who had such limited availability that the store couldn't run, then quit three months later leaving the whole place in shambles. Most of the old staff returned, but I'd moved onto the sex shop already and was enjoying a job with significantly less risk of being fired on a whim.
However I do have to disclose on job applications if I've ever been fired. I always says yes and list the reason as, "Excessive use of pepperoni." It has never failed to get a laugh from my interviewer.
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✿⋅ Oh, to be Alone with You ⋅✿
NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI
Rating: Explicit
Wordcount: 2.6k
Descriptors: I try my best to write inclusively. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned in her physicality but not described in detail. If anything escaped me, please let me know! Sorry I couldn't make this more gender neutral, but since this fic is a gift to @naariel I thought I'd use her pronouns.
Warnings: dirty daydreams, yearning, lusting after someone, male masturbation, dirty talk, fantasy of PiV sex within the daydream, bath sex, this is written from Halsin's POV
⋆⋅ Inspired by this insane artwork by @naariel ⋅⋆
Author's note: I've been pondering, rotating and marinating this artwork in my mind for WEEKS. It haunts me in the best possible way and I am so happy Naariel gave me permission to reference her art! If you are not already following her, you definitely should - her skill and talent are infinite.
Masterlist ⋆ If you prefer AO3
───── ⋆⋅✿⋅⋆ ─────
Oh, to be Alone with You
Halsin sighs when he finally sits down, long limbs sprawling on the too-small chair that can barely contain him.
Chairs. What superfluous oddities, where a big tree stump might have sufficed. If one has to make them at all, why not at least make them comfortable? Why not sit in the meadows, why not find a place to lay where the sun has warmed a rock that has been washed and polished by the rain? But no, the rules of the city demand he be contained within four walls instead of roaming free, they demand he bathe in a wooden tub instead of out in the wilds, they demand he wear clothes and be polite to people even as they trample the Oak Father’s creations beneath their boots without even stopping to look and enjoy nature’s gifts.
Halsin shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache. It has been a long day and he is so tired. A long week. A long few weeks, if he is being honest with himself. In all these centuries, times have been- well- rough, to say the least. But whatever haunts the Sword Coast now… it’s different. Bigger than the invasions of Goblins across the land, bigger than the Shadow druids, bigger even than the Shadow Curse that has occupied Halsin’s every waking hour for nigh on one hundred years.
At least, Thaniel and Oliver have been reunited, some life returning to the lands as it always should have been. A victory, chased for so long, tasting sweet only for a moment before the stale urgency of the matter at hand had seeped back into Halsin’s mind: Mindflayers infecting innocents, magic-infused tadpoles, an Elder Brain… There are too many battles to be fought, and not one of them to be won.
Halsin presses his lips together and tries to banish the dark thoughts from his mind. There are some good things that have come out of this: They have not lost a fight yet, and his newfound companions are… stimulating, to say the least. Fighting alongside them has been a joy and a privilege - watching their blades sear, their magic erupt, their arrows pierce their targets as the bear Halsin rips through flesh and bone. The fighting is necessary, and his companions are more skilled than he could have ever wished for. This day may have been hard, but it was successful nonetheless, and now he is here, freshly bathed and ready to find some rest for the night. If only it could be under the stars, far outside the city walls, he would almost call himself happy. Instead, he must bed down alone, encased by too many walls and a too-small bed frame.
Halsin misses the smell of grass that has not been trampled by hundreds of boot-clad feet, he misses the feeling of bark against his fur, he misses his wildshape and trodding through calm forests instead of bloodied battlefields. He misses air that is crisp and clean and doesn't smell of artificially molten metals. He misses the Grove, he misses Thaniel and he misses the woods. The city has been forsaken by Silvanus, and even if this place is a small oasis of nature, it is not the same as being out among the Oak Father’s creations.
He cracks his neck, his hair tickling his collarbones. Halsin curses quietly to himself, pushing a curl behind his ear. He needs to cut his hair - it’s getting too long. And he needs to braid it again, his plaits are all out of sorts. It might be a hassle to do it without a mirror- but maybe he could ask-
No.
Shaking his head as if to will the thought away, he slumps into the discomfort of the chair a little more.
No, he shouldn't ask her anything. Nothing that would involve her hands on him, at least. Certainly not her fingers buried in his hair, tugging softly, her voice gently commanding that he tilt his head a different way. He can’t ask for that. It would only lead to him asking for more:
More of her hands on him, more of her skin against his, more than innocent touches and whispered goodnights across the campfire. He would ask for everything: To bury himself inside her until the world fades away, to devour her until she is slick with sweat from the pleasure he brings her. To be the keeper of her heart, just as he yearns for her to be the keeper of his.
Halsin can feel the familiar tightness in his back as the golden shimmer of his wildshape travels up to his shoulder blades. One thought of her, and already the bear stirs.
He remembers everything that happened today, even as he tries so hard to think of something else:
He remembers the way she smells, of sweet berries, blood and leather. He remembers her looking up at him, as her fingers clutch her weapon tightly. He remembers the fire in her eyes after the slaughter, the glow in her cheeks when she turned around to look at him and found only the bear. He remembers how she smiled at him, even after all that violence, a smile like the sinking sun, bloodied and red, but more beautiful than he could ever have dreamed up.
And as the day progressed: Her arm bumping into his, her head tilting up when she asked him a question and wanted to read his expression. How her hands slipped around him to reach for some food at the campfire earlier when they rested. Her sweet breath on his face and a mumbled excuse when she walked into him, still drowsy with sleep. And all Halsin wanted to do was pull her into his lap and bury his nose in the crook of her neck and forget about the world, forget about everyone watching, and have her, right then, in that moment. Have her all to himself, make her his very own. To feel her around him, to show her the depth of his affection, the desperation of his desire, the magnitude of his commitment.
All he wanted in that moment - all he still wants - is to touch her, to feel her in ways that he cannot ask for because he is scared she will not want the same thing he does. Halsin wants to lick the sweat off her skin, he wants to be buried between her thighs whenever they can steal away, even for a few minutes, he wants her taste on his tongue when he fights, and to wrap himself around her when they sleep.
The force of his own thoughts makes Halsin shudder, glowing desire stirring deep in his belly.
Her tongue in his mouth, his hands on her skin: How soft she would be against him. How wonderful to hear her voice break when she cries out for him, how she would taste if he could lick her off his fingers, the honey of her thighs, the salt of her sweat. He would give anything to know the expression on her face when she is lost to mindless bliss- he would give everything to know that he is the cause of it.
A low moan escapes his throat then, and Halsin presses his lips together when his mind returns from memory and sweet imagination to this house in the midst of a bustling city. This is not nature, where he can do what pleases him when it pleases him. No, the city - ‘civilisation’ as they call it - comes with rules, expectations, limitations.
He is in someone else’s home, exhausted from the day, the blood barely washed off his skin. And yet, all he can think about is… her. All he can feel is the constriction of his clothing, the confinement of leather where he longs to be touched. He wants to shed like the bear sheds his fur after the winter, he wants to feel free again.
Halsin hums, breathing deeply, willing away the golden sparks of his wildshape that dance along his fingertips. He listens intently, fingers dancing across his thighs, drumming an impatient rhythm.
Nothing in the house stirs. Maybe they are all gone still, running their errands, finding bath houses, visiting old friends and merchants they used to know before they return here for a long night’s rest. Maybe Halsin can have a small pocket of time to himself. Time to dream himself away, to give in to the desire he has harboured for so long.
Maybe… he could use this opportunity to release some of that tension that has settled deep in his belly. Refocus his attention. Maybe it’ll be for the best- not to think of her constantly anymore, not of her smell, or the colour of her eyes, of the way her fingers linger on his for a moment too long whenever they touch, or how much he wished they could have bathed together when he sank into the tub earlier that night.
The city has many downsides, but baths are one of the few things to enjoy. Hot springs are wonderful, but few and far between. Nature provides: The bear does not mind the coldness of a stream in the woods, or the iciness of a mountain lake. But there is nothing like a steaming bath to help prevent the sore ache that settles in his bones after a fight.
If only it was acceptable to ask her if she would join him. If only it had been her hands washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin, brushing his hair, kneading tired muscles, her hands much smaller than his, but strong and determined. Loving.
Halsin lets his head fall back, spine cracking as he settles in the small, uncomfortable chair, spreading his legs to cup his hardening cock. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it…
She glistens in the dim light, thin streams of water trickling down her skin when she emerges from the bath, her lashes stuck together as she beams at him.
“Mhh, we should have done this ages ago!”
“I could not agree more, my heart.” Halsin loves seeing her like this. She looks happy, like she has not a care in the world.
She crawls up into his lap, settling on him, her thighs bracketing his. Her hands run across his chest, lathering him in soap that smells of lavender and thyme. Halsin’s heart is beating in his throat when she leans in to kiss his collarbone, her lips soft, her hair smelling of smoke and flowers as it always does.
Desire surges inside him, crackling like lightning in his veins, and he sends the bear away, far away. This is a moment he wants for himself: Skin against skin, tongues exploring, hands intertwined. This is no place for fangs and claws, not tonight. Halsin unlaces his trousers with steady fingers, though even those few seconds seem unbearable to him. When his hand finally wraps around his cock, he breathes a sigh of relief, only to feel dissatisfied moments after. He wants her hands, her eyes on him, her voice dripping with lust. For now, his imagination will have to do.
He dreams himself back to the bath, thinking of all he could have had, if he had only had the courage to ask.
Her skin is burning hot against his, her fingers leave a flaming trail wherever she touches him.
“Is this alright, my love?” Her voice is full of concern and affection, as it always is when she asks about his comfort and well-being.
“More than alright.” Halsin’s breaths grow shaky when she moves her hips, shallowly grinding down against him. “Gods, I want to-”
“Mhhm?” There is a curious twinkle in her eye. “What is it you want? Tell me. I’m sure I could make your dreams come true.”
Halsin shifts when the wooden backing of the chair digs into his back as he bucks his hips, fucking into his hand that is wrapped around his cock - a poor substitution for what - for who - he really wants.
A growl rings out in the empty room when he closes his eyes and imagines her again.
Her thighs look so lovely, spread wide so he can fit between them. She smells of the bath salts and of herself, and her voice talks to him through the thick fog of his desire.
“I know what you want, don’t I, bear? I’ll take such good care of you if you let me. I’ll make sure you don’t even have to ask for it. I’ll let you taste me, whenever you want- wherever you want. I’ll help you focus- you can focus on me, can’t you? There you go…”
Halsin is panting, his hand moving faster.
She feels good, so good when she sinks down on him, wet with arousal and so willing to take him.
“You, little flower, are the jewel of nature’s creation,” he mumbles. “You are all I could ever want and more. I want to taste you on my tongue, always- for there to never be a day where I won’t know the way you drip for me- for you to never go a day without being satisfied, without feeling loved and cared for. Your happiness is all I want- your ecstasy all I desire. Let me take care of you.”
She moans, her head falling back as she starts to roll her hips, taking him deeper and deeper with each stroke.
“I’ll take care of you as you do of me,” she whispers. “I’ll make sure to provide for you all you could ever need or want. You give and give, let me give you everything I am in return. Be selfish, bear. Take what you want, swallow me whole, devour me without worrying whether it’s too much. I want you to. Mark me- make me yours. Tell the whole world I belong to you, whichever way you desire.”
Her movements are desperate now, her words only sighs and moans, breathless as she buries her head against his shoulder. Halsin inhales the scent of her hair, sinks into her words as the fog of lust that has settled on his brain grows thicker and heavier, until there is not a thought left on his mind but her.
“Halsin-” Gods, his name sounds so sweet off her tongue. “Halsin, I want you to fill me. Please- please, I want to feel full with you, today and every day you’ll fucking let me. I want to fight knowing you are still dripping down my thighs, I want to kiss you under the stars and know I’ll never be without you again.”
The curses that are falling from his lips are ungodly, but Halsin does not care. He is desperate now, mouth open as he calls her name and thinks of the words he wishes he could hear her say.
“Come for me, bear. Come inside me, lay claim to me as only you ever could- f-fuck- make me yours- please- Halsin, I’m yours, I’m yours and yours and yours, as long as you’ll have me- forever if you want to-”
With a cry of her name on his lips, Halsin gives in to pleasure and lets himself be overtaken by a wave of bliss. His thighs tremble as he spills over his hand, sticky warmth dripping from his fingers. He does not open his eyes. Not yet. He wants to stay in the fantasy just a moment longer.
“Halsin, I-”
His eyes open, blood rushing to his cheeks as he returns to the real world and finds her standing in the doorway.
I'm going fucking feral. Running into the woods hoping to find him there, who's with me -
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#bg3#halsin#halsin x reader#in some capacity i suppose#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#halsin bg3#nsft#halsin x f!reader#gala writes
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First Impressions | Eddie Munson x Reader
Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox
Summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner.
Content Warnings / Tags: Pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it
“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.
“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.
“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.
“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.
“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it.
The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.
“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”
“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.
As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.
“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile.
“Alright, not a fan of handshakes, notes.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.
“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.
“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.
Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out
“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.
“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition.
He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely
“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.
“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do.
“Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.
“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand
“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.
Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold.
“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.
“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.
“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do.
“- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face.
“You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.
“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking
“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.
“I’d love to.”
“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.
“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.
“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence.
“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.
#eddie munson#eddie x you#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x henderson!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie fluff#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fandom#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie fics#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you#stranger things fluff#eddie imagine#eddie munson imagine
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mafia!toji first time meeting stripper!reader
a/n: reader is fem. and since i’ve been hit with biggest writers block known to a man, this one is inspired by one of my old work called gold. enjoy!
-
toji zenin is a ruthless man. that, you can definitely count on.
he’s known to be the one who shows little to no mercy. who’s soul isn’t as clean due to the countless of lives he had taken.
as crazy as it sounds, toji craves for the sound of piercing cries from someone who begs to spare them compassion. he likes to taunt them. mock them. pretending that he would eventually let them go just to see that little flicker of hope lighting upon their gaze.
a sinister smile would play coyly upon his lips before he decides the latter. pulling the trigger and watches the victim face planting the dark tile as their brains scatter all over the walls and floor.
it’s one way to teach people a lesson to not fuck with him. to not fuck with his business. because toji zenin is crazy like that.
he has no time for patience nor pity.
toji fixes the collar of his black sheer shirt, checking himself out in the mirror to make sure he looks good tonight. who are we kidding though? he’s toji fucking zenin,
tonight was supposed to be his day off. he had plans. before a motherfucker who runs a strip club decides to mess with him about the package deal and had almost lost him half of the money he’s supposed to own,
he could’ve let his right hand man to handle it. but this is bigger than anything he had ever done. is this goes to south, then one person’s death wouldn’t be the only thing on his agenda,
he’ll track down every single one of the bastards and kill them with his own hands,
however, tonight needs to be as clean as possible.he’s aware of the reputation he has put on himself to the world, so no point of hiding or camouflage. yet, he still doesn’t want to cause too much of a scene,
stepping away from the full length mirror, he swiftly picks his black velvet coat off the hanger before shrugging it on,
“talk to me, satoru” his heavy voice echoes the hallway as he steps out of the room to walk downstairs, watching a few of his men pocketing their weapons,
gojo satoru. his right hand man, nods,
“he’s there. word from bianco. he appears isn’t expecting you to stop by” he informs, showing toji the message on his phone. “it’s going to be crowded. but bianco is taking care of that right now. he’s got nowhere to run”
toji scoffs, snatching a glass of whiskey off the table before downing the remaining drink. “good. i need him to see me when he less expects it. owes me more than some fucking money” he mutters, tucking the G21 down his holster.
gojo raises an eyebrow. “G21? you’re going soft tonight eh, boss?”
toji shoots him a hard glare, one where the white haired man only chuckle at. “the car’s ready?”
another nod, gojo leads toji down towards the basement. “as requested. Lamborghini Murcielago. your personal favorite. packed with 640 PS and 471 Kw—i think you know what that means— rules around 213 mph if you consider on going hit and run. i packed a standard aeropack wing if you wanna go slow. windows? bulletproof. in case anyone tries to kill you” toji knows for a fact that gojo is only joking about the last part.
no one dares to try to take him down before he does it. it’s a pattern everyone knows by now,
toji lets out a low whistle, head softly shaking at the machine beauty before him. fingers tracing along the hood of the car,
“shit—you know i need to lay low, man? got anything less attractive?”
“i don’t do less. you know that, boss” he winks playfully, laughing to himself when he watches toji rolls his eyes. “besides. this thing right here will for sure earns you a bird. take her out on a stroll, bring her home. women love fast cars” he comments,
humming as a response, toji walks towards the driver’s seat. “i don’t date. were you born yesterday or something?” he speaks in a firm tone before catching the keys that gojo throws at him,
“no I wasn’t. but isn’t ‘she who shall not be named’ is like what? two years ago? and you got to stop with the one night stands. go get a girl tonight” he suggests, watching the dark haired man sliding himself into the car,
toji gives him a half hearted smile. “noted”
“i’ll be right behind you, boss. slow down, yeah?”
-
it takes about thirty minutes prior to arrival. toji blames it all on the traffic and the slow pedestrians crossing the road. cursing to himself every five seconds, each time he stops at red lights.
he parks his car close to the entrance before exiting from the vehicle, tossing his keys at one of the valet but not before roughly grabbing his collar and threaten to kill him if one scratch is prominent on his car.
clearing his throat, he walks into the bar. ignoring the stares and whispers at the sight of a notorious ruthless man who decides to pay the club a visit.
one thing he first to notice, the club is indeed packed. gojo wasn’t lying. as if God knew what is about to happen later on and isn’t going to let him get away with witnesses. he needs to play it safe tonight.
as he strides through the darkened room to find the table he had been reserved for, a few half naked girls walk right pass him. delicate fingers stroking his chest and brushing against his shoulders, making him smirk. he can’t lie, most of them are gorgeous and he’s tempted enough to touch their skin, but he has to hold it. not that he isn’t interested, because his mind changed. he is definitely taking someone back to his place tonight.
fucking gojo. he has to be right every time.
speak of the devil, the white haired man appears by his side in minutes. nodding his head towards the area where the business should be conducted. toji follows him close towards the end of the room,
he gently pulls back a chair for him to sit, as gojo and the two of his other men stands behind to watch over. toji specifically asks for the furthest table, with a glass of whiskey has been prepared for him.
toji feels irritated. he hates doing all of this dirty work just because some fucking bastard isn’t able to keep up with the deal. he should’ve known not to trust alec to do business, yet when the pathetic excuse of a man begged on his knees with a gun knocked against his head, toji thought why not? if he didn’t get to fulfill his demands, he gets to kill him either way.
“alright, alright—fuck! easy man!” alec’s frantic voice causes toji’s eyes to avert from the scene of the crowd. his eyebrows knitted, threatening gaze bores upon the man whose pushed forcefully by his men to sit, “mr. zenin! it’s always a pleasure to see you!”
mind that alec owes him more than fifty grand, and this fucker had the nerve to walk in and act like nothing happened,
he is definitely going to kill him,
“you don’t fucking talk to me that way, alec. i’m not your friend. you owe me something” toji warns, his finger pointing at him as he watches the trembling man gulp. “you remember?”
alec couldn’t feel more terrified as he casts a glance of toji’s gun on the table, facing towards him. “i—i know, man—sir” he corrects himself. “i didn’t forget. it’s just that the money is tight right now. the girls aren’t earning amount of money they—“
toji could only scoff, head thrown back. “i didn’t fucking hire your girls. i hired you. stop being a pussy and own up to that. you should know that me and patience never get along. i have one body bag left in my car and it would give me the tremendous pleasure writing your name on it” he grits his teeth, looking at alec with a dark look in his eyes as he balls his fist,
“i just need more time—“
“one month isn’t enough?!” toji barks, making alec jumps at the booming voice
“i need more. i promise. give me one more month. and i will do whatever you ask me to, sir zenin.” alec begs with hopeful eyes,
toji finds it disgusting and repulsive to see someone like him begging for mercy. or anyone at all. that gesture is weak and vulnerable. “i don’t give out second chances”
alec hears a gun clicks from behind. he doesn’t need to ask, he knows that one of the two men behind him is ready to blow his brains out. “sir zenin, please! just one more chance! please”
once again, toji isn’t a very patient man. he knows enough to understand that it’s a mistake. but he would love to see how this one goes, playing along with this little game of his.
toji isn’t a fool. never was.
he looks over at gojo, as if to ask what he thinks. the answer that gojo could give is ‘your choice, boss’
toji sighs, head shaking. “fine. you give me your best girl of the night, and i’ll give you one more month” he offers, taking a sip of his drink, leaning himself back to relax. “no more than that”
alec nods. though he feels like shitting himself because one month isn’t close enough for collecting the amount of money he owes toji to. still, he thinks this is better than nothing.
“take your pick, mr. zenin. or i could bring one or two here? we have twins in the back and they sure are on high demand, everyone has been begging me to—“
toji could only hum in response, not listening to a word he’s saying. his green eyes scanning over at the scene. the girls are putting on a show, showing off their skills, some are pulling a lap dance on a few customers. he cringes when one suddenly takes her bra off like she costs nothing. seems like none of these girls are his type. gorgeous? yes. but they don’t seem to do enough to make his cock twitch,
he’s about to take back the offer until his eyes fall on her. eyes widening in amusement and toji finds himself freezing on the spot.
a slight curvier woman has her leg hooked around the pole. long dark haired brushing against the marble floor as she arches her back slightly. toji observes the way her body moves so sensually yet gracefully, almost like a feather. the way she bites onto her pink glossed lips and how her eyes manage to flirt with the crowd with one simple look. she has them lured into her presence. himself included.
her body—fuck, he doesn’t even know where to begin. delicious curves cladded in navy blue bodysuit, full breasts supported by the cup of her outfit that bounces each time she moves. soft thick thighs wrapped by a white fishnet stockings and legs decorated in white fuzzy pumps. overall it’s quite revealing, but it still presents the modesty she has on her. he’s not quite sure if it’s the outfit or it’s just her,
but only a fool would assume that it isn’t the latter.
toji feels his pants growing tight when his gaze lowers to how her hips moving in circles. in painfully slow motion too. almost like she knows how to tease and she’s doing it so perfectly. if only he had spotted her from before, he would’ve move closer.
a damn fucking beauty she is.
“her. i want her” toji speaks in a firmer tone, almost territorial. he just can’t take his eyes off the woman. watching every single move and a wink being thrown.
he chuckles when she swats a couple of old hands who seems desperate to try and cope a feel with a dirty look on her face. he couldn’t make out what she’s saying but he knows for sure that she’s telling them off,
‘gorgeous and a fighter’ he thinks to himself
“angel? you want her?” alec asks after he realizes who he’s pointing at,
“that’s her real name?”
“no. she doesn’t let anyone know her real name. she goes by that ever since she starts working here” alec informs, watching toji nods,
so she’s new?
“some calls her birthday cake”
that makes toji’s brows scrunched. he is about to ask why the name until the answer is immediately given to him when she decides to do a side split, making her plump ass bounce against the floor.
oh that’s why
“gorgeous” toji breathes, cocking his head to the side. “not taken is she? not that i care anyway. what a fucking dime she is. you’re going to give her to me, correct?” his voice is threatening enough, dark eyes moving to look at alec who nods.
“yes! of course, sir! if that’s what you want”
“fuck yes i do. bring her to me” he demands before gulping down his drink, watching how alec immediately scrambles off the chair and hurries towards where angel is performing,
toji keeps his eyes set on the mysterious lady. refusing to move. he doesn’t want to miss a single thing. especially when she’s on her hands and knees, ass up in the air for the crowd to see and eyes looking over her shoulder earning cheer, applause and money flown just for her.
gojo lets out a wolf whistle. “good choice, zenin”
he hums, the girl now up on her feet. lifting herself up after she hooks her arm around the pole and give them a twirl. “tell me gojo. have you seen anyone as beautiful as she is?”
“definitely not. you just might hit the jackpot”
indeed he did. toji may have made a lot of mistakes but he’s never wrong when it comes to choosing partners . he’s always careful with it.
there is something so different about her and he’s very sure about it too. from how she’s not afraid to tell the men in the audience off, putting that smart mouth to use. unlike the girls he has seen around where they just take the humiliation. but her?
she fights back. just how he likes his women.
“fuck off alec, i mean it! my shift is almost over. i’m not interested being passed around to your friends or co-workers!”
he hears her protest. toji doesn’t even realize that she’s walking closer towards his table with alec’s grip around her elbow,
“who said anything about passing you around? i just need to introduce you to one of the most important men here!” alec defends,
“weird way of saying you want me to suck their cocks” she comments
a foul mouth indeed toji thinks
alec throws her a hard glare, in which she only scoffs and roll her eyes. “mr. toji zenin, I would like to introduce you to angel. she’s been here for almost a year now.”
toji grins at that, standing up from his chair and looks over at the beauty with a disinterested look on her face. seemingly look like she doesn’t want to be here. yet she smiles at him anyway, and he swears he has never seen something so pretty,
“nice to meet you, beautiful ” toji extends his hand for her to take, giving a soft kiss on it. his eyes aren’t looking away from hers. “hell. you’re even gorgeous up close”
she won’t deny it. this man is absolutely handsome. and she doesn’t see a lot of them working here. most are old and married, which something that she finds disgusting. but this man, toji? he is far from ugly.
first thing she noticed was how broad he’s built. the way he towers over her and he’s not even standing that close to her small figure. even the dark room fails to hide the definition of his muscles through the black shirt he’s wearing. and the thin scar over his pulled lips, showcasing a smirk.
is this man even a man?
as handsome as he is, angel raises an eyebrow, not feeling entirely influenced by the gesture. “so have you been observing me this whole time? that’s creepy”
“angel” alec hisses, gripping her elbow a bit tighter making her flinch a bit and her body to cowers a little.
“sorry” she mutters in irritation, gaze falling down to the floor
the interaction somehow irks toji to the bone. he eyes how alec treats her in front him, it would probably even worse behind closed doors.
he doesn’t even want to know.
“you can fucking let go now alec, you’re hurting her” toji demands, throwing him a sharp stare. alec’s pupils are wide open at that, causing him to release his grip almost immediately and for angel to nurse her reddening skin.
one thing that toji wouldn’t accept, is violence against women.
toji’s gaze beginning to soften yet again when he watches the pretty girl before him. how her long hair cascading down her back, exposing the sharp of her collarbones and valleys of her breasts,
if only her look of fear is replaced with a look of comfort,
“you can leave us be. thanks” toji coldly orders at alec, not wanting to be near his presence anymore. he’s had enough seeing that bastard,
he nods, avoiding his stare but not before muttering a ‘don’t fuck this up’ to angel before one toji’s men escorts him out,
“don’t worry about him doll. he’s gone, yeah?” he comforts her almost immediately, not wanting her to be scared anymore,
“oh—yeah, uhm thanks” she shoots him a smile. a genuine one this time, taking his hand in hers when he offers it. "so how do you want this--''
“if you don’t mind” he puts a hand behind her back immediately to guide her to the couch behind, earning a quizzical look on her face. “i want to get to know you first”
“mr. zenin. with all due respect, this is not a date. i’m working”
he chuckles at her forward response, still she lets him lead to the velvet couch. angel sits first, eyes glancing up for a moment and see a handsome white haired man with his arms crossed. he quickly removes himself from the presence and walk out. his other men following him from behind.
and now there’s just two.
“i just want to take my time with you. is that okay?” toji sits back down, watching her crossed her legs as she keeps the distance between them,
she smiles with a shrug, toying with the strap of her bra, “you could do that while i’m giving you a dance—if you want?”
toji makes a mental note on how her eyes glow under the violet lights when she stares at him. almost like it’s so easy for him to see what goes beyond that. they’re so so pretty. prettiest he’s ever seen indeed. despite the flirty tone lacing under her response, she still has the look of innocence that makes him smile back.
she’s no better too. the way he’s looking directly into her eyes should be a crime. his gaze speaks something. something… lustful and dangerous.
he nods, letting out a breathe of relief as he leans himself back before spreading his thighs as an invitation.
“show me what you got then gorgeous”
angel swears she can hear the beat of her heart getting louder the moment she sits herself down on his lap. still, without him having to suspect anything, she keeps her flirty persona for a show.
“my, my—you really are a fucking dime” he lowly whistles, eyes falling to the curve of her breasts. “i can see why people were loving you back there. hopefully they don’t get jealous when i stole you away”
she giggles, a small blush creeping on her cheeks. “aren’t you a flirt. you do this to every girl?”
toji places his hands on her plump ass, resting it there. he knows that there are rules where it’s forbidden you touch the dancers. but he doesn’t give a shit. and it’s not like anyone had the balls to tell him off anyway.
“only to those who i find interesting, baby” he says, eyes not looking away from the beauty as be squeezes her flesh making himself groan. “fuck me. that’s an ass? right here?”
his comment makes her laugh as she throws her head back. loving how genuine he actually sounds when he said that.
“so—mr. zenin” she begins, giving him a naughty smile as her hands finds their way to his shoulders, feeling how tense they are under his grip. “what brings you to this awful depth of town, hm?”
he clears his throat, wetting down the bottom of his mouth while keeping his hands steady on her hips. finding no desire to move them. “business. your bastard of a boss owes me something. I didn’t think i would actually be here right now, accompanied by a gorgeous woman like yourself”
damn. he sure is charming and cheeky. definitely a player. “you sure are a sweet talker, mr. zenin” she tells him before slowly beginning to grind against his bulge causing him to exhale another deep groan. “are you sure—you don’t make bitches wet talking like that?”
he mutters a low ‘christ’ when he feels himself growing hard under her sultry move, yet she isn’t stopping. and she only had just started. “believe me doll, i’ve had my fair shares with many—but damn, they sure don’t make me hard like you do—cross my heart”
her hips the move in tiny circles, keeping a painfully slow pace but enough to keep him satisfied. “i don’t trust you but okay—anyway, what did you and alec talked about anyway?”
“nosy, huh?”
she rolls her eyes. “i have the right to ask since he practically sold me to you for tonight—my shift was supposed to be over, mr. zeni—“
“toji” he cuts her off, thumb softly stroking against her hip bone
“what was that?”
“just call me toji” he repeats with a small grin. “and okay that’s fair—he has something very important of mine. was supposed to pay a month ago, but that piece of shit isn’t known to be the one who keeps his promises”
she hums in response, leaning herself back slowly and rests her palms upon his knees to keep her body steady. her hips are now moving back and forth.
toji shamelessly let his eyes wander down from her breasts to her thick thighs. “i was going to blow his brains out tonight. right here. on this one spot. but he begged like a bitch and i wanted to see how far he goes” he laughs almost darkly,
it scares her a little by how calm he’s being about murdering someone. with the way his eyes staring at her aren’t really helping too. like a predator eyeing his prey. almost like he knows how to make her weak on the knees.
“looks like he’s in big big trouble, then” she giggles cutely. “not surprised anyway. he owes alot of money to the girls too. mine included”
he cocks an eyebrow, feeling himself tensing. “does he now? how long?”
“can’t count. i had to pull bunch of shitty excuses to the landlord just so he won’t kick me out of the apartment. half of our earnings each night, goes to him. saying that he’ll pay me back but I know he never will” she spills casually, then her movement comes into a halt. “oh fuck, don’t tell him i said that”
with a chuckle, his head shakes. “i won’t. but i could kill him for you, if you want me to. just say the word” he speaks lowly, continuing to admire her body. “mind if i ask how long have you been working here?”
it takes her a while to answer. “almost a year. I quit college for this. not because i love it entirely, but i couldn’t pay for it anymore.” she sighs,
“i’m sorry to hear that. what were you studying?”
“bio-engineering” she smiles, “people tend to be surprised when i told them that”
“count me in as well, sweetheart, damn. not only she’s hot as fuck but she’s smart too?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you even real, right now?”
she laughs, flipping her hair. “thank you, toji—can i ask you something?”
he hums, callouses hands move towards her back, holding her steady,
“what happened there” she points at the scar, struggling to find the urge not to trace her fingers across it,
he shrugs, “was from a fight years ago. nothing major”
“can i—touch it?” she softly asks him, looking so innocent yet teasingly,
toji smirks, head nodding. “go ahead, baby” he speaks in a low baritone. voice so deep and flirty that it almost makes her squirm,
she ignores the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her that. and without being told twice, she leans closer and her fingers reach out to pad the scar gently. feeling how soft his lips against her skin, paying attention to every single detail of it. wondering how on earth could a scar fit someone so perfectly.
there is no doubt on her mind, that he is the sexiest man she has ever come across to. she can feel the weight of his palm lowering itself down to her plump cheek, squeezing it. usually, she would tell anyone off for touching her like that. but this time, she doesn’t say anything. not because she’s afraid of him but she feels strangely turned on.
“fuck” he breathes out, feeling her ass one more time. hearing him like that just makes her giggle as she gradually picks up the pace grinding on him, catching toji off guard.
“such a naughty little girl—bet you wouldn’t mind having that ass spanked now would you?” he whispers against her ear, biting his lower lip hard.
though she would admit that she wouldn’t, she won’t allow him to win this game. she slowly shakes her head with a smirk, removing herself off his lap causing him to whine. angel spins around, not without swaying her ass side to side, sneaking a glance to make sure he’s watching,
her hand immediately circles around the pole in front of them. “dinner is mandatory if you want to go down to that path, mr. zenin”
toji watches carefully with lust and admiration as she now securing her arm around the golden pole, lifting herself off easily and give her body a gentle spin. eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. coming back down slowly, she re-enacts the movement from where she performed for the audience. legs spread apart, landing in a perfect split. long brown hair covering the side of her beautiful features, tongue licking her upper lip.
he follows the curve of her ass, eager to get his hands on them but he knows that he has to wait. there, he spots a small heart tattoo inked on her ass cheek,
angel is a little teaser. that’s for sure. enjoying herself too much in making a man hard yet refuses to be under the spell of a man’s touch. he likes that actually. likes that a lot. it may be painful to have his cock hard at the moment while she’s not doing anything about it but she’s worth it.
so, so worth it.
“you are so. fucking. sexy.” his voice switches into something darker, a seductive grin slowly forming as he thirsts over her. “must have made a lot of men mad out there”
“so i have been told” she declares with confidence, innocent smile pulling upon her lips as she begins to gently crawl towards him, eyes never leaving his.
she halts in between his open legs, settling on her knees. being the little minx she is, her hands find a place on top of his thighs. “i sense you carry danger everywhere you go, mr. zenin—am i wrong?”
she’s not dumb. she spotted his gun strapped against his holster an hour before she was even being introduced to the man.
he delicately caresses her soft cheek, almost came in his pants when she leans against his palm. “why? that scares you?” he moves a few strands of hair that are blocking his view of her pretty face,
she shakes her head, a smile doesn’t leave her face. in fact, he hears a soft giggle escapes her.
his eyes move from the curve of her breasts and up to her mouth. eyeing the way that pink gloss compliments her pretty skin.
“would love to have a taste—right here” toji whispers, his thumb grace her lower lip. his breath immediately hitches, and a groan rumbles deep in his chest the moment she opens her mouth.
“fuck—what a good girl” he moans lowly when she lets his thumb rest upon her warm wet tongue. the angelic look in her eyes disappears and is replaced with a look of lust. “s-shit” it takes him by surprise when she decides to suckle it, head bobbing her head up and down painfully slow,
“jesus—i wish it was my cock you’re sucking right now, baby” nonetheless, the amount of pleasure she’s giving him is enough to keep him satisfied,
“holy fuck, wow” she pops her lips off his thumb. wiping the saliva from the corner of her mouth before giggling again. the sound makes toji smile. genuinely.
“you’re trouble” he comments with a tsk, chuckling at the way she shrugs innocently as if she has no idea what he’s talking about. “alright. up you get, baby”
she gives him a questionable look, following his movement and rise to her feet. “mr. zenin, we still have thirty minutes left. alec gave me at least an hour and he would be upset if i—“
“if he touches you, you tell me and i’ll kill him. understand?” toji sternly orders, brows furrowing at the thought of that lowlife bastard putting his hands on her,
she’s baffles at that. how could he know what goes behind closed doors? still she nods anyway. “yes, sir”
“toji, baby. toji” he corrects with a smile. “besides, if i stayed for another ten minutes, i’ll l cream in my pants and that would be embarrassing” he shamelessly points out. she blushes at that and it makes toji’s heart skips a bit,
“this doesn’t mean it’s a one and done. i would love to see you again, sweetheart. can’t let you go too far now can i?” he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her thick amount of hundreds. “here you go, angel”
she gasps softly as her eyes go big, shocked by the bundle of cash in his hand. if she counts it right that’s gotta be at least close to one grand.
“toji this is—fuck this is too much, I—i can’t take these. twenty or fifteen is enough for me”
he frowns. who in the right mind think it’s okay for men to tip a gorgeous woman with a rocking body some loose change? fucking assholes.
“baby, you do realize who you’re talking to? i don’t give out twenty or less” he quirks an eyebrow, watching her adorable expression. “money isn’t a problem to me. a grand isn’t a problem to me. come on, you deserve it”
she stares down at his hand and hesitantly takes the money. flashing him a wide smile. “mr—i mean, toji, oh my god thank you so much. thank you, thank you!” without any second thoughts, she jumps out and wrap her arms around his neck,
“you don’t know how much this means to me. i needed this”
toji stumbles a bit, the sudden movement surprises him but he appreciates it. the way she keeps thanking him, muttering couple of blessings has somehow gives his heart a little kick,
a good one.
“no need to thank me, baby” toji grins, holding her by the waist to keep her secured for a moment before pulling away. “you take care of yourself yeah? don’t be wandering too far. would love to take you out on a stroll” he leans down to peck her cheek,
“I’ll be sure to stop by and see you again, gorgeous” with one last devilish smile, he walks out of the room. leaving her still in complete shock,
he is no ordinary man, alright. it kinda makes her feel a bit weird by all the butterflies that are erupting her stomach by how he acted earlier. has it been.. what? two or three years since she had been engaged in any sort of relationships with a man. and there has been no real man crawling around this city. only rats. she fucking hates rats.
but toji zenin? there’s definitely something about him that makes his whole aura and appearance a lot more sexier. again, she’s not stupid. she has seen the gun. observed his interaction with her boss. and the men he had protecting him suits?
that’s no 9-5 man. it’s dirty work.
and it should’ve scared her. it should’ve been a warning made for her to run and avoid him because he’s a man that carries danger everywhere he goes. toji zenin is a man that would not hesitate to paint the whole town in blood of his victims if one ever crosses his territory.
yet as she glances down at the bills being handed at her and promise from him that he would see her again, it makes her smile. heart thumping at the thought of the beautiful man coming back only for her.
angel clutches the money against her chest, squealing as she does little bounces in her heels with a giggle. overjoyed with the amount of cash that would help her,
she’s definitely making toji her new favorite client
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sorry not sorry but.
Vox having so shitty day that when he sees reader chatting with someone just a little bit too happily, he can't help but aggressively sub in the evening (idk how else to call it). Like, he's riding you as if his life depends on it, bitching non-stop about "who else could offer you so much things? who else could make you feel so good?" and stuff
but in the end, he's an actually desperate mess, whining about how he'd do anything, just don't leave him. He's not this insecure usually at all, no, it's just a really terrible day
warnings — sub vox, use of a strap, smut but lowkey it’s kinda fluffy smut at the end
a/n — so I should clarify that since I have so many requests to get too, all of them will probably be short drabble like this, maybe shorter.
summary — my thoughts on the request above in the form of a low effort drabble.
Oh, poor baby. After an already terrible day of his fragile ego taking hit after hit, seeing you happily talking to someone else would end him. Maybe he had to sit through one of Val’s tantrums, or he had an excessive amount of meetings, and maybe he lost an argument to his rival the radio demon.
And then on top of that, you’re just having so fun talking to some random person without him. As if he wasn’t even there. He’s analyzing everything about the scene, why your body’s are ever so slightly leaning towards eachother, the smile on your face, the eye contact.
He’s pissy but he’s also just genuinely hurt. Like oh, just his luck; an already shitty day gets shittier! Why not just have his lover leave him for some ugly ass nobody.
He’d approach you later that evening and literally not wait to be all over you, telling you to get your strap, and pulling you down onto the bed.
No because imagine he’s just humping and grinding on your strap faster and faster as he’s glitching and rambling. You don’t even know what he’s on about because it all seems so random and internalized, as if he’s not even really talking to you. And the glitching and moaning doesn’t help make it coherent.
“No one else would w—wzz—worship you like I do, make you feel so good,” Vox would remark, more to himself than you. “No one would want you as much as I do—“
He’s interrupting himself and cutting himself off by whining, and he’s fucking himself onto your plastic dick so aggressively that you’re sure it’s hurting him. Honestly, you were a little worried about this behavior.
“Vox, baby—“ you try but he just moans loudly and speeds up, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes.
You don’t even have to praise or degrade him because he’s literally doing it all himself, not even letting you get a word in.
“Nngh—zzzh— No one would be such a slut for you. Not like me,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut intensely, “Tell me i’m perfect, tell me i’m the best you’ve ever had, tell me i’m good enough. I—“
”Vox!” You interrupt, sitting up fully and putting a tight grip on his hips, preventing him from moving. He whines at the loss of friction. “Vox, sweetheart, slow down.”
The lack of movement from your strap makes his brain fuzzy and needy, causing him to let one tear fall across his screen.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Even with your dick inside him, your words showed no trace of flirtation, only sincere concern.
He squirms in your lap, trying to get you going again, “I just—ungh—fffuck. Please. I need you, I need you. ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry! I’ll do anything, please don’t stop. Please don’t leave me!”
At this point more tears drizzled down poor vox’s screen as he uselessly rutting down onto you. Your heart pangs as you examine he’s pathetic demeanor. Your hand links around his waist and you flip him onto the mattress.
Placing a kiss on his lips, cheek, and then neck, you start to move inside him once again. “You are perfect,” you praise, speeding up, “You are good enough, baby. You’re wonderful.”
He whines at your movements as he cries more desperately. “You’re amazing, sweetheart. I could never leave you, I will never leave you.”
Your pace becomes quicker, but you treat him gently, bringing his hands individually up to your lips and pressing soft kisses on each, before interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the mattress.
He whines and squirms underneath you, sobbing loudly, sending a spark of electricity uncomfortably through your body. You recover from the buzz fast.
“So pretty, so good for me,” you praise softly, “You have all my attention now, Vox. You have nothing to worry about.”
a/n — wasn’t aware if you wanted boypussy vox or just for me to be normal for once— so i left it up to interpretation.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel smut#inbox open#dom reader#vox x reader#sub vox#vox smut
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Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands
So, especially in the early days after the release of S2, I saw and heard a lot of people comparing these two as if they were the same. There were fan comics and fanart and fanfiction that included dialogue that was something along the lines of "why are they so healthy after only a few years and we aren't?" or "why do THEY get a happy ending and we don't?" And I mean, I haven't seen any of that in a while so maybe people have come to this conclusion on their own, but just in case, I wanted to point out
That they are fundamentally different. They are not the same.
And the reason why comes down to this conversation from 2x3:
So, hold this conversation in your brain while we go through this.
First of all, we have our Ineffable Bureaucracy, Gabriel and Beelzebub.
So these are the ones who, figuratively speaking, were born in a castle.
Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel for however many millenia, and Beelzebub was the Grand Duke of Hell for the same, roughly speaking. They are equals in positions of power.
So, when they fall in love, you have two supernatural authorities who have lived their existences believing that they can reasonably expect to have and keep whatever they want. After all, that's exactly what their lives have been (with the one exception being Beelzebub's Fall) - they want something, they get it, they keep it, and no one tells them no.
The biggest risk is to Gabriel. If Heaven were to find out, he would Fall. I can imagine Beelzebub being a bit concerned, but "Oh no," Gabriel probably figured "I Fall to Hell, and straight into your arms!" And I could see Beelzebub with a little smirk saying "I'd look after you, babe," in response.
The only time Gabriel actually worries is when he finds out that there's another punishment that he didn't realize was a possibility.
Falling to Hell is one thing, but having his memories erased is an actual threat, and possibly the first time he's ever been told no. This is when we see him panic, and leave Heaven in a mess, storing his memories away to keep them safe from the Metatron. We find out later that he was on his way to Hell anyway and just forgot halfway there and got lost.
And so, we have two beings who were always told they were Good Enough, who approached each other knowing they were able to have whatever they wanted, and were therefore able to communicate and fall in love in a healthy way. They didn't need to tip toe or hide, because they had no reason to believe anyone would ever tell them no until someone did. Their risk, because of their positions of authority, wasn't nearly as great as Aziraphale and Crowley's risk.
So now we come to our Precious Ineffable Husbands
Crowley and Aziraphale start off in much lower positions on the Celestial Food Chain. We know that they have to be very careful about their relationship to avoid the repercussions. They can't mention The Arrangement out loud, they can't put their feelings for each other into words. It has been made clear to them that they are always being watched, and anything they have can be taken away from them on a whim.
So how can they communicate safely when they've spent millenia living on eggshells and tightropes? Of course they won't, and of course it's going to be much harder for them to believe they can once they finally are safe. I definitely believe that they will get there (for my own wellbeing I have to believe that their love is stronger than anything), but they will need to fight tooth and nail in a way that Gabriel and Beelzebub didn't. All because they aren't figures of authority.
It might honestly be another good argument for Crowley taking the Grand Duke of Hell job (even though I reeeeaaaally don't want him to). It would put them in the same position as Gabriel and Beelzebub, and might give them the footing to actually escape the system (even though I think it's more likely that they're going to dismantle and/or repair the system in s3, but that's my own opinion).
These two pairs aren't mirrors of each other. Rather, they illustrate the problems with inequity that Crowley was pointing out in Edinburgh. And if S2 showed us that, I'm hoping S3 will show us possible solutions for it.
#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens 2#good omens fandom#aziraphale x crowley#aziracrow lasts forever#gabriel#archangel gabriel#beelzebub#ineffable bureaucracy#good omens meta#good omens 2 meta#good omens analysis#ineffable fandom#this show is my roman empire#good omens thoughts
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Aziraphale’s reaction to the kiss: A Breakdown (that’s it that’s the reaction.)
A lot of people say that this anguish Aziraphale feels after the kiss is due to this feeling of “Why now? Why didn’t you do this before, when I wanted you to?” And I think that can be part of it, for sure. But man, that’s just one part of this gigantic, writhing ball of emotions in Aziraphale in that moment, all of them fighting each other, all of them painful. I’m going to breakdown the breakdown, because writing essays analyzing the minds of fictional characters is apparently all I want to do these days. Also, judging by this absolute nutball of a season that confirmed literally multiple “bit of a stretch” deep dives, I feel I can ignore that little voice whispering “this is silly” into my ear. I can dive as deep as I want, because there goes Neil Gaiman with an aqualung, swimming deeper.
So. The kiss, and why Aziraphale looks so gosh darned sad about it.
First of all, there’s shock. Major shock. Because despite everything, he still likely never thought this would ever actually happen. (Him and me both.) Or maybe – a small maybe, but a maybe that I might put a dollar on, if the odds were good – the idea of kissing Crowley never occurred to his conscious brain before at all. He’s so good at compartmentalizing and denying that it’s very possible he’s managed to nip every intrusive thought before it went far enough to be fully conscious.
Then, there’s fear of being seen. (“Who is watching? Will the Metatron see? He only allowed me to work with Crowley after he regained angelic status – if he sees me and Crowley now –”) Then, a layer deeper, there’s his ever-present fear response to things going too fast, because despite how we all know he feels, he’s still not sure he’s ready for any kind of partnership, let alone one this intimate and close. Because even for humans, this is a really, really big jump – we typically don’t kiss when we haven’t even been on a date (officially) yet, and usually not before both parties admit to their feelings.
Then, even deeper, is that anguished, heartbroken “Why now? My God, why now?” response, because his subconscious has always wanted this, but also knows that this is the worst possible time for it to happen, and now he’s lost that first kiss with Crowley—the one he wanted, anyway. The one that was supposed to be filled with joy, and is instead marked with the worst pain he’s ever felt.
Then there’s the second “Why now” response, and this is where I might be dipping a toe into the Hot Take puddle. Because I think there’s that knee-jerk fear response he’s yet to shake, and which overtakes his rational thinking whenever he’s terrified of Heaven or unsure of himself. It’s the suspicion he’s always held of Crowley. He’s thinking “Why now?” as in, “Is this the temptation that God and Heaven warned me about? Is this Crowley the Serpent, fulfilling his duty? Is this the true proffered apple, a kiss that’s meant to keep me from serving Heaven? Is he tempting me, knowing how I feel, knowing I’m weak?”
That’s the true anguish of this scene, I think. He’s fighting all these feelings, but on top is this old fear, this old anger and suspicion of Crowley, assuming he’s lying. Demons lie, Crowley admitted it himself. Crowley is the original Serpent of Eden, designed to tempt people away from God. And this feeling is what’s on top, because the alternative is…what? That Crowley actually feels this way? That Crowley, a demon, loves him, Aziraphale, enough to be this vulnerable, with no wicked ulterior motive? Aziraphale is a lot of things, but he’s certainly not a being who thinks he’s desirable. He sees himself as opposite to Crowley, and if Crowley is temptation personified, Aziraphale is then the personification of undesirableness. Deep down, this idea of the Serpent of Eden being tempted by him, Aziraphale, is simply ludicrous.
And then there’s self-hatred that he even thinks this thought of his friend, then suspicion, then fear again, then confusion, then anguish, then fear, then pain, and so on. All of this happens in a few seconds, and all of it coalesces into a singular takeaway: “This is the worst.” And because the one who technically caused it is Crowley, Aziraphale does what he does very well: he forgives Crowley, because he’s too prim and angelic to say “Goddamn you,” which is what he truly means. Goddamn you for making me feel this way. Goddamn you for making me doubt you. Goddamn you for forcing this option on me, when I can no longer take it, and when I don’t even know if it’s real. Goddamn you for putting this apple in my hands when we both know I can’t eat it. Goddamn you for reminding me that no matter what, it is not in my stars to live a happy life.
#good omens 2#good omens#good omens 2 spoilers#good omens spoilers#good omens meta#good omens 2 meta#go2#go2 spoilers#gos2#gos2 spoilers#good omens s2 spoilers
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Summertime: Billy Hargrove One Shot
18+, explicit sexual content. Minors DNI
Word count: 3.2k
A/N: I had a request for some Bills and my writing brain has been shit lately so I’m moving over an old one shot from wattpad. @billysbot I hope this is okay for now and I’ll get to your request asap. 🤭🖤
*******
Summer. Fucking finally. The warm night air hits your face as you walk outside towards the cooler searching for something to help you relax. Parties weren’t always your favorite thing but it was a good way to kick off the summer. A nice time to relax and one of the only fun things to do here.
You check out the scene, a crowd of people around the keg stand, a group by the fire, and a few girls fighting for the attention of Steve Harrington.
He is one handsome guy. You watch as he runs his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, the girl directly in front of him reaching out to touch it, giggling flirtatiously as he gives her a sweet smile. Even after graduation, Steve always threw the best parties in Hawkins.
You suddenly hear a shout from your left as you grab yourself a beer, popping it open.
“The keg king has returned!” a guy shouts in the distance.
Tommy. You roll your eyes, the noise from the party already starting to give you a slight headache. I need more alcohol.
“Billy Hargrove, what did we do to deserve this?” another loud voice booms, followed by a laugh.
The name catches your attention and your head whips around to see him standing there with a bold smile on his face.
He looks about the same. Tight denim clinging to his muscular thighs. He turns and you catch a glimpse of his ass, his jeans showing you every curve perfectly.
That ass. You quickly finish your beer, this time reaching for the whiskey, pouring a bit into your cup before walking a little closer to all the commotion. The crowd is loud as guys and girls alike come to welcome him back.
He left last year for college along with a few others. Most of you were stuck there. Going to community college or working full-time jobs.
You had hooked up with Billy one time before he left for California. The backseat of his Camaro. You hadn't gone all the way but the things you had done were stuck in your brain since last summer. It was a night you thought about often.
He turns your way and your eyes meet his. You instantly feel your face flush and try to conceal it behind the red plastic cup, taking a large gulp.
A white t-shirt fits firmly against his body, a black leather jacket thrown on top. His sandy curls look a little more taken care of, a little smoother, one curl spiraled to perfection on his forehead.
He winks and smiles that charming smile as he squeezes through the crowd, heading your way.
Fuck me.
“There you are.” he huffs as he comes to a stop in front of you. His cologne fills your nose, the aroma immediately sending you back in time, the memory of last year clear as day.
His soft lips on yours, his fingers working you to your peak so effortlessly. It was like a dream.
“That feel good, baby?” he mumbled in your ear as his thick fingers glided in and out.
“So good, Billy.” you moaned breathlessly, your head falling back against his leather seats as he leaned over you.
He chuckled deeply, his fingers working in and out slowly before he curled them slightly, pressing into your g spot, making you bite down on your lip, a small whimper escaping.
“R-right there..” you gasped, rolling your hips, grinding on his hand. No one had ever been able to get you off before and Billy knew exactly what he was doing.
“Mmm… That's it, baby,” he murmured against your lips as your eyes fell shut.
“H-holy shit..” you moaned loudly as your thighs began to tremble. His two fingers precisely stroking across your sweet spot. His thumb moving up and down your soaked slit, brushing against your clit over and over.
You had completely lost yourself in the moment, the pleasure something you had never experienced by the hand of another.
“I can't wait to hear you cum.” he burned, his words bringing you closer and closer until you finally fell apart, your cries filling the small space in the car, Billy encouraging you to scream his name. And you did. Again and again…
Billy’s smooth voice saying your name brings you back to reality and your face reddens again. You still haven't had an orgasm like that since.
“Something on your mind?” he teases, reaching down and snagging a beer for himself.
You quickly shake your head and give him a soft smile. “Just thinking about last summer… How is school? California looks like it's treating you well.” you state sweetly, stepping slightly closer to him.
You take in every detail of his pretty face. His sun-kissed skin dusted with freckles, his long dark lashes such a contrast to his light curls, his lips plump and soft, his mustache trimmed neatly.
Now that he was here, no one else at this party could catch your eye. He was so alluring. So addictive.
Billy smiles as he pats his pockets for his smokes, pulling one out and offering it your way. You take it and place it between your lips, Billy reaches out lighting the cigarette for you before taking the flame to his own.
He inhales deeply, slowly releasing the smoke before he speaks.
“It’s been good. You know, same old shit.” he shrugs casually, his eyes stuck on you. You watch as his gaze travels from your face all the way down your body and back up, his lips curling into a smile.
You shift your feet, your Converse kicking the dirt as you feel his eyes on you. You were happy you had forced yourself into a dress tonight instead of your usual t-shirt and shorts. It was a deep red, riding high on your thighs, sculpting your body in all the right places.
“You look good, sweetheart.” he compliments, his tone warm and sugary. Another little wink in your direction making your heart speed up in your chest.
“So do you. You look really good. I like this shirt.” you gush, your hand reaching out to touch his chest. You can feel the firmness of his muscles underneath the skin-tight shirt. His body tenses under your touch as your hand slowly trails across his stomach.
“It looks better off,” he suggests playfully, his blue eyes glinting under the moonlight.
“Do you wanna swim?” you blurt out quickly, making him laugh.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” he teases, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.
“Me neither.” Your voice comes out hoarse as he looms over you.
His fingertips ghost across your thigh as you look up at him.
“Anything under this?” he whispers, his voice deep and low as he lightly tugs on the hem of your dress.
You nod, your entire body tingling from the sensation of his fingers against your skin.
“Let’s go.”
********
“You want me to swim in my underwear?” you stare at him as he begins to unbuckle his belt.
“Mhmm..” he hums lightly, shuffling out of his jeans. His jacket was next, then his shirt. Leaving him standing there in his boxer briefs, his perfect body on full display.
You cross your arms surveying the area, Only a few people were in the pool, most of the party was inside dancing or getting drunk. Billy raises an eyebrow in your direction and you bite down on your lip.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” he presses, walking closer. His hand rests on your waist, pulling you close, his body is warm against yours as his lips meet your ear.
“You weren’t shy when you were screaming my name, baby.” His breath tickles your ear, his words making you throb. His hand reaches around your back, taking your zipper in his fingers, slowly drawing it down.
“Or when you sucked my dick and swallowed every bit of my cum..” he continues, the zipper coming to a stop just above your ass. “Remember that night?” He rasps as his hand moves to your shoulder, gently pulling the strap of your dress down your arm.
“I think about it all the time.” you admit quietly as he works the other strap.
“I know you do.” he boasts, a smile playing on his lips as he pulls your dress to the concrete.
Billy’s POV
I was hoping she’d be here. Cute little thing. Sweet fucking pussy. I remember sucking her off of my fingers. And those lips.. fuck they felt good wrapped around my cock.
I can tell when I make a girl cum for the first time. It’s so gratifying. Hearing their cries, their moans, their surprise as they realize how good sex can be. There are way too many women who haven’t been pleased right. I bet she hasn’t gotten off like that since I left. But tonight, I’m gonna fuck her. Give her everything Billy Hargrove has to offer. I can’t wait to blow her fucking mind.
I watch as she kicks her dress to the side and slips out of her shoes. There are a few people on the other end of the pool, a couple making out, a few guys roughhousing.
Doesn’t matter. I’m about to make her squeal. Audience or no audience.
I reach out for her hand and her slender fingers intertwine with mine as we make our way toward the pool steps. I step down into the water, it’s a little chillier than I expected but it feels nice as we step deeper into the pool. I turn to see her with little goosebumps spread across her arms. Her nipples hard against the thin fabric of her lace bra.
She’s a fucking sight. Her perfect ass on display, her tiny panties barely hiding anything. The moonlight casts a glow across her body as you drink her in.
I’m excited to hear her cry my name again. The way she screamed just from my fingers.. Fuck, this is gonna be fun.
Her eyes shine bright as she peeks over at me. A slight smile on her face. A dark red lipstick painted on her soft lips.
Her little shy act is cute too. But she won’t be able to maintain it for long. Soon she’ll be begging me to do filthy things to her. And I’ll happily comply.
I normally would have gone for someone new but there was something about her that made me crave more. I've thought about her many times since I left. I'm not in love but the girl is something and I'm eager to have more.
I can tell she's thinking the same as she wades into the water, beckoning for me to come closer. She swims to the corner of the pool and I dive in, following behind her. I come out of the water, face to face with her. Her mascara runs slightly, leaving little black smudges under her eyes.
I love that shit. Though it’s normally caused by them gagging.
I press up against her lightly and take note of her body’s reaction to me. Her gaze falls from my eyes to my lips and back up again. Her chest moves up and down rapidly. A small bite of her lip, her body leaning into me.
Mmm.. I know, baby.
I reach out, firmly gripping her waist as she instantly presses her lips to mine, her arms coming around my neck. The noise of everyone around us seems to disappear as she slips her tongue in my mouth. Her fingers thread into my hair as my eyes shut and I take over, kissing her fiercely, pressing her body against the pool wall.
She moans into my mouth making my cock twitch. I dig my fingers into her hips pulling another moan from her, making me smirk against her lips before pulling away breathless.
“You taste just like I remember.” I groan, reaching around cupping her ass in my hands causing her to gasp. “How about that pussy, baby? Can I get another taste?” I mumble against her neck as I begin planting slow kisses up and down her exposed skin.
“Yes.. fuck.. where should we go?”
I let out a deep laugh before gradually gliding my fingers down her side. My hand skates across her thigh and slips in between her legs.
“Billy, there’s people..”
“Then I guess you'll have to be quiet.” I taunt, my voice low in her ear.
“Shit.” she breathes out as my fingers run across her clothed pussy under the water. I move the delicate fabric to the side, one finger slipping into her slit. Even under the water I can feel her need for me, her warmth wrapping around my finger, slickness coating it as I press deeper inside, a little moan falls from her mouth as it drops open.
I work in another finger, plunging into her pussy as her head falls to my shoulder trying to conceal her noises. “I missed these fingers,” she mumbles into the crook of my neck, sending a smile across my face.
I work her with my hand, adding a third finger, keeping them buried deep.
“Fuck!” she cries, her squeal barely muffled as I continue to fuck her with my hand.
Her moans grow louder as she buries her face even deeper. I can feel her pussy pulsing around my fingers as I curl and stroke across her g spot making her legs shake.
I hear voices from the other end of the pool, reminding me that we’re not alone. I lift her with one arm, her legs wrapping around my waist as her nails dig into my shoulder blades.
“Mmm.. I’m gonna.. Billy.. I’m gonna..” she stammers, her voice is shaky as I feel her clench around me.
“Cum for me, baby. Then I’m gonna take you inside where you can really scream.”
My words send her overboard and her teeth sink into my neck making me moan as she comes undone, her walls fluttering around my thick fingers. My jaw clenches as I feel the pain from her bite, followed by her lips sucking harshly as she rides out her orgasm.
Reader’s POV
“Oh my fucking god.” you laugh breathlessly as your body comes down from your high. You bring your face around and slam your lips to his, feeling elated.
He plants a few hard kisses on your lips before lifting you out of the pool. You stand up as he hops out, your eyes glancing towards the opposite side of the pool. You see the same couple still making out, people swimming around none the wiser. Holy shit.
As Billy stands, your eyes roam down his body, his erection clear through his wet briefs. Fucking hell.
“Bedroom?” you suggest coyly.
“Bedroom, baby.” he chuckles, swiping up your clothes and pulling you along.
******
“Is this Harrington’s room?” Billy questions as you lock the door behind you.
“Mhmm.. You okay with that?” you ask, walking further into the room. Billy laughs loudly at your question.
“Just makes it even better.” he snickers before tossing you to the bed.
Fuck, I'm excited. No stopping this time. I'm getting all of him.
You unclasp your wet bra, tossing it aside, watching as Billy’s eyes fall to your chest. He grins as he slides his underwear down, his cock finally unrestrained. You swiftly slip your panties off and giggle as Billy basically tackles you into the mattress.
“You're so fucking beautiful.” he compliments, as you feel his weight on top of you.
“So are you,” you reply, your voice hushed. You bring your arms around his neck and draw his lips to yours, his tongue parting your lips gently. You can feel him against your warmth as you wrap your legs around his waist.
You lift your hips, grinding against him, feeling his cock rock hard.
“I want you.” you plead desperately.
“How do you like it, baby? Soft and slow? Rough and fast? Tell me what you want.” Billy says as his hands begin to explore your body.
“Mmm.. Either.. Both.. I just want you.” you breathe out.
“My kinda girl,” Billy smirks before you feel him at your entrance. He gradually presses the first few inches into you, the stretch so delicious, so fucking good.
“Fuck, you're big.” you whimper slightly and he kisses your lips once more.
“I'm barely in, sweetheart.” he brags, a hint of cockiness laced in his tone. He pushes in deeper, making your mouth drop open with a squeak.
Once fully inside he begins to thrust. In and out, slow and steady. Your body feels overwhelmed from this new sensation. You've never had someone so deep inside of you before.
He starts to get into a nice rhythm, rolling his hips, driving into you at a perfect pace. Your eyelids flutter as he glides in and out of your pussy, your slickness coating his cock entirely.
“Fuck, baby.” Billy grunts as you start to rock with him, your bodies working perfectly together. He times his time, pumping into you with long hard strokes as he kisses you deeply.
You cross your ankles behind his back, pulling him back into you over and over again, moans and praises pouring from your lips as you give into him completely.
“Harder!” you cry unexpectedly, your body aching for something it's never known. I want him to destroy me and I know he can.
Billy grins wickedly, picking up speed, slamming into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.
“Yes!” you wail, clinging to him wildly, your nails dragging down his back as he thrusts mercilessly.
You lose yourself in the pleasure, as he pounds you into the mattress, your boobs bouncing with every thrust. You feel his hand on your ankle as he easily tosses it over his shoulder, leaning over you, making your legs tremble instantly.
“Oh- oh my god!” you scream as his cock slams directly into your g spot.
“There she is.” Billy growls, his smile widening as he slaps your thigh roughly making you squeal in delight.
“You like that?”
“Yes!”
“You like it rough?”
“Yes, Billy!”
“Tell me.”
“I want it rough. Fuck me hard, please!”
With no warning, he flips you to your stomach, pulling your ass up in the air and enters you again. His hand grips your hair and gives it a yank, a drawn out moan leaving your lips.
He slams into you, your ass bouncing against him over and over as he wears you out. His firm hand leaving handprints all across your ass. Your hands grip the sheets tightly as your body gives into the euphoria. The perfect amount of pleasure and pain blended together.
You had reached your high twice, the second even stronger than the first. Your body sensitivity at an all time high.
“Cum for me, again.” Billy mumbles lustfully, his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your skin.
“Yes, Billy.” you whimper. Your entire body felt like jello but you didn't care. You wanted this, needed this.
You soaked his cock once more before he filled you with his cum, both of you collapsing to the bed, out of breath.
“Why the fuck did you have to move again?” you pant, your cheeks flushed, your heart pounding.
Billy chuckles as he reaches over for a cigarette, pulling one out for you both.
“Any time I visit.. This is happening, doll.” he motions between the two of you.
“Visit more than once a year?” you pout, laying your head on his sweaty chest.
“Mhmm.. I didn't think I’d miss anything about Hawkins, baby. But damn I'm gonna miss you.”
#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove smut#billy hargrove x fem!reader smut#billy hargrove oneshot#billy hargrove
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the clash | vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)
hobie brown x goth!reader
word count: 2.2k
genre: enemies to lovers
warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you (sort of), you hating hobie, angry hobie, death, there’s a murder, SORT OF GRAPHIC death scene, injuries, ANGST, a plot twist!, sort of allusions to s*icide
a/n: ok y’all. this one’s a lil shorter, but this is where it starts getting whacky. the way i’m writing this is sort of like if i was writing a comic book, so this is a WHOLE ASS PLOTLINE that i could see being illustrated in my brain. i hope you enjoy, bc it’s about to get WILD. don’t worry tho the fluff will come bc i’m soft(ish)
previous chapter: v. ever fallen in love
now reading: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)
next chapter: vii. i wanna be sedated
───────────────────────────────────
First thing’s first, Hobie needs to find out where the Prowler of your world might be. He could always call Miles and ask him where his Uncle Aaron lived, but that seems a little… insensitive. If there’s anything he knows about the Prowler, he knows that he’s a thief. So, Hobie snatches your police dispatcher and listens for some burglaries being reported. Getting any type of assistance from the police pains him to his very core, but he’s not about to wake you up and let you know what he’s about to do. He crouches on the railing of your balcony and stares out at your city. He hears calls about someone robbing a Bloodega, not the Prowler. Some kids snuck into a club, also not what he needs. “Come on, pigs,” he mumbles, “give me somethin’ useful here.”
That’s when his ears perk up.
“Reports of someone lurking around of Oscorp Labs, suspicions that it might be the Prowler. Units on standby for Spider-Goth, do not engage with the Prowler.”
Do not engage? What the hell? Isn’t he a villain? Hobie quickly understands what’s going on.
He works with the cops.
Fuck this assshole.
He leaps off your balcony, webbing his way through your city. It may not be his style, necessarily, but it’s a nice place. He can see why you like it so much. He’s actually been webbing through it more than he ever expected to with how much he visits you. He knows deep down that he’s visiting so much only to see you, but outwardly he likes to pretend it’s just to see Shadow. He knows more about your world than Miles, Pav, or Gwen’s which is interesting considering he’s known you only about 3 and a half months. Luckily, you live only a short web swing away from Oscorp, so he can’t get too lost in his thoughts about you and can end this guy faster. He lands on the top of the building and glances around. He notices a perfectly cut hole in the glass a few floors down, so he crawls down and through into the building. It’s dark. He tries to stay as quiet as he possibly can because he knows that’s how you would do it, but damn. He just isn’t good at stealth. And this is factual apparently, because he gets the feeling someone is watching him and just barely jumps out of the way from what looks like a whip covered in spikes. He lands on the ground in a crouched position when he hears a somewhat familiar sounding voice. “Who the hell are you?”
“Can ask you the same question, mate,” Hobie says, “The answer will make this whole thing so much easier.”
“You one of that freak’s friends?”
“Something like that,” Hobie responds. “I take it you’re the Prowler?”
“The one and only,” he says, and Hobie rolls his eyes under his mask. “Mate, do I have some news for you,” he snorts, and the Prowler flicks his wrist. His whip makes some mechanical noise and green and purple light starts shining through it in little places where the metal isn’t completely welded together. Hobie motions to it. “Bet you’re proud a’ that. What are you? A cybergoth? cyborgoth?”
“I’ll ask this one more time. Who are you?”
“Name’s Spider-Man, also known as Spider-Punk,” Hobie says, and the Prowler groans. “There’s another one? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“There’s a lot more than just me and them, mate,” Hobie crouches down, ready to leap out of the way if need be. “Why are you here? Where’s my insect at?”
Hobie doesn’t like the way he called you his. “They’re not yours,” he hisses at him. The Prowler is quiet for a moment before laughing. “Oh. I see. Didn’t know they had a boyfriend,” he says, before whipping towards Hobie. He jumps out of the way in time, but almost doesn’t because boyfriend? Excuse me? “Not their boyfriend!” he yells, landing on the ceiling and glaring down at the Prowler. “No? Then why are you here? I figured it was because of how badly I beat them. Their screams were so entertaining.” Hobie hates this man. He clenches his jaw. “Nowhere near as entertainin’ as yours’ll be, dickhead,” he grunts, jumping down and shooting a web at the Prowlers legs. Luckily, the Prowler wasn’t expecting that, and Hobie is able to yank his legs out from underneath him. He falls hard, and Hobie smirks. “Oh sorry, did that hurt?” Hobie says, and the Prowler growls, standing up faster than Hobie anticipated. “I’ll kill you.”
“Not if I kill you first, mate,” Hobie says, anger seeping out of his words. “A spider that willingly kills, huh? Is that why you came to find me?” he chuckles, “I feel like you and I could be good friends,” the Prowler’s chuckle turns into a laugh, and it pisses Hobie off even more. “I’d rather die than be friends with someone like you,” Hobie shoots another web at him, but this time the prowler dodges it. He flicks his wrist, and Hobie feels the whip make contact with his side. He grunts in pain. This must be what got you earlier today. “That can be arranged. You’re even worse than your little partner,” the Prowler says, and Hobie can hear the smirk. He wants to punch that fucking smirk off his stupid face. Hobie stands again, grabbing his guitar. If it’s a fight to the death this fucker wants, it’s a fight he’ll get. And Hobie will not be dying tonight. “Oh, what are you gonna do? Power chord me out of existence?”
“More like beat your ass until you kick it,” Hobie growls, “but if ya want me to do it with style, I’ll play ya a song over your dead body.”
“Bold of you to assume I’ll be the one dying tonight,” the Prowler says and uses his whip again. Hobie jumps out of the way, and his eyes widen as he dodges two bullets in midair. He lands on the ground and sees that the Prowler’s gauntlets are guns as well. He scoffs. “How much that suit cost ya?”
“Would have cost a lot if I didn’t steal it or invent it myself, but I did,” Hobie dodges two more bullets, but lands directly on the Prowlers whip, causing him to slip and fall. “Luckily my agreement with the police got me the state-of-the-art tech that I needed,” the Prowler confesses. “Fuck,” Hobie grunts, jumping up as quickly as he can. “I’m gonna love telling Spider-Goth I took down their boyfriend.”
“Not their boyfriend!” Hobie yells, jumping out of the way of his whip, and more bullets.
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“Look, how ‘bout we settle this without any gadgets, eh? See who wins then?” Hobie says, and the Prowler scoffs. “If you can’t beat me at my best, you can’t beat me at my worst.”
“Actually, yeah I can. Dunno if you’re realizin’, but I’m still alive and breathin’,” Hobie says, jumping out of the way of his whip yet again. This time, though, Hobie was prepared. He webs the whip and yanks it as hard as he can. The Prowler is airborne as Hobie swings him to the other side of the room. He lands with a thud, and Hobie webs over to him, doing a flip to land a kick directly to the face. The Prowler manages to get his whip wrapped around Hobie’s ankle and flings him back across the room. He crashes into some glass wall and groans. “As much as I fuck with your ‘fuck the establishment attitude,’ Spider-Goth ain’t gonna be too happy with me if I destroy another buildin’,” Hobie says, shaking his head, hearing some glass fall down next to him. Then, the alarms start blaring. ‘Great, probably broke somethin’ important,’ he thinks before noticing a piece of glass stuck in his arm. ‘Gotta make this quick,’ he thinks, grunting as he pulls the glass out of his arm. “Like I give a fuck what makes them mad,” the Prowler says, running towards Hobie. He leaps out of the way, webbing his leg again and causing him to slip and fall. Hobie then delivers a blow to the side of his face with his guitar, but thanks to his armor, it just hurts him more than anything.
Then Hobie hears hissing. He leaps up onto the ceiling just before a mechanical snake was about to sink its stupid metal fangs into him. “Made yourself friends ‘cause ya ain’t got any? I’d be gutted for you if ya weren’t such a dick,” Hobie says, webbing the snake and jumping off of the ceiling. He does a flip in midair, swinging the snake with him and throwing it at the Prowler. He dodges just in time, but Hobie is able to deliver another blow to him. This time, Hobie goes for his leg. And he hears a crack. Just as he wanted. The Prowler shrieks out in pain.
Hobie lands next to him and bends down. “Hope that hurt, fucker,” he spits, striking his other leg in the same fashion. He dodges the mechanical snake again, grabbing it and using his strength to break it in one squeeze. He throws it to the side and dodges more bullets from the Prowler’s gauntlets. Unsurprisingly, Hobie goes for both arms next. He stops when the man is rendered completely useless, rolling the Prowler over on his back. “I win,” Hobie says, and even he is taken aback at how menacing his voice sounds. The Prowler grunts, “You sure you’re a good guy?” Hobie ignores him and stands beside his head. “I do what I want. Any last words?”
The Prowler is silent for a moment before speaking. “Tell them that their boyfriend would have been able to save–”
Hobie doesn’t let him finish.
In fact, Hobie has trouble stopping even after he knows the deed is done. He didn’t even give Osborn this kind of disrespect. But this guy is different. All Hobie has to do is think about the state of your back, how you still blame yourself for what this motherfucker did to someone you cared so much about, and he’s swinging his guitar again.
He only stops when there’s nothing left to hit.
He breathes heavily, observing what he’s done in the flashing red lights as the alarm blares in the background. He walks back to the window, glancing back at what he’s done before leaping out and webbing away as fast as possible. He hopes no one saw him. Doesn’t want anyone confusing you for him.
He lands on your balcony and sees Shadow waiting for him inside the doors. He opens them and hears the cat meow at him. He leans down, giving him a few scratches, before opening a portal to his world. He goes home, falling on his bed. He groans, feeling the injuries he got for the first time. The adrenaline was keeping him going that entire fight. He gets up, and begins mending his injuries. Halfway through the last set of stitches he has to give himself, he gets a call on his watch from Miguel. He rolls his eyes, ready to get yelled at for, ‘interfering with the fate of the multiverse, yaddah yaddah yaddah blah blah blah boring boring boring.’
“Yeah, what d’ya want?” he answers, finishing up his stitches. “Get to Spider Society immediately.”
“I’m a little busy here, mate can it–”
“NO! It can’t wait, Hobie! Get here now!” Miguel screams, hanging up. Hobie groans. He was supposed to go back to your world so when you wake up, he would be there and explain why he did what he did. He could just go back… but then Miguel might show up in your world. And he sure as hell doesn’t want that. Sighing, he opens a portal to earth-2099, walking through and ending up in Miguel’s multi-screened research room. “Do you know what you did.”
“Killed a bloody villain, what of it?” Hobie asks, already annoyed. Miguel pounds his fist on the desk. “You interfered with (Y/n)’s timeline, Hobart!”
“I was protecting them!”
“YOU CREATED AN ANOMALY!” Miguel screams, and Hobie frowns. “How did I–”
“You killed a villain not a part of your own world, a villain who played a role in a major canon event of (Y/n)’s and now–”
“Would you come off it with the fuckin’ canon events?! Whatever it is will be resolved in one way or another!”
“Hobie you don’t understand–”
“He hurt them! Was I just supposed to stand around and let it happen?!”
“YES! We’re Spider-People it’s part of the job,” Miguel screams, and Hobie rolls his eyes. “I thought you hated them anyways, why did you want to protect them so bad?!” Miguel asks, and Hobie freezes. That… is actually a good question. He sees your injuries in his mind again and his frown deepens. Why did he want to protect you? Surely, he doesn’t… like you? No, he wouldn’t have done what he just did for a just a friend, though he would have still hunted the Prowler down. But the thought of him hurting you drove him to do unspeakable things… which he did. Is it… does he like you romantically?
His eyes widen. It would make sense if he felt that way. He was around you 24/7. These past two days were torture. He likes the way you challenge him. He likes the way you look, he likes the way you speak, he likes– “Hobie. Answer me.” His thoughts get cut off by Miguel, and he swallows hard. “I… I actually can’t answer that right now,” he says, and Miguel frustratedly runs his hand through his hair. “Hobie. What you just did…”
“Is bad, I know–”
“It’s not just bad. It’s detrimental.”
“What do you–”
“Do you know who you killed?” Miguel asks, and Hobie scoffs. “Obviously. I killed the Prowler, probably some variant of Aaron Davis or–”
“The Prowler on Earth-666 is not Aaron Davis,” Miguel says, frowning at him. “Did I kill Miles? You know his voice did sound kind of familiar…” Hobie asks, feeling a little worse about the way he handled the situation. “No. It wasn’t Miles, either.” Hobie looks up at Miguel, who takes a deep breath. “The Prowler on Earth-666 was Hobart Brown.”
Hobie feels like he just got hit with a pound of bricks. This is too much for him to process in one night. “I… what?”
“You just killed yourself.” Hobie shakes his head. “I–”
“He sounded familiar because he was you. Just without the English accent,” Miguel says. “Did (Y/n) know?” he asks, less concerned with the fact that he technically killed himself, and more concerned with the fact that he did all of those things to you. Miguel shakes his head no. “They didn’t. They were never supposed to know,” Miguel affirms, and Hobie lets out a shaky breath. He unclenches the fists he didn’t realize he formed. He feels the indents his nails made on his palms, but he doesn’t care. He was genuinely scared for a minute there. How would you react towards him if you know he was the one torturing you for so long? He nods. “Good.”
“There’s something else I need to tell you, Hobie,” Miguel says, and Hobie looks at him. “You changed a canon event. So far, the world seems stable… but you’re not going to like what will happen next,” Miguel says, turning away from him. Hobie jumps up to the platform Miguel is standing on. “Will (Y/n) be okay?” he sounds a little too frantic, and Miguel glances over at him. “You care too much for them.”
“Bollocks,” Hobie retorts, and Miguel sighs. “I knew you would like them,” he mumbles before pulling up information on your Earth onto the monitors. Hobie sees the Venom symbiote pop up and frowns. You haven’t had to deal with that yet. “The Venom symbiote was meant to bond to Hobart Brown on (Y/n)’s Earth. Now, the symbiote is going to bond to (Y/n), which is bad. This symbiote is unlike the other Venoms. It’s angrier. Deadlier. He would have been the worst enemy they ever had to face. I’ve been mentoring them as a secret way to help them train to be able to defeat him because… well…”
“Cause what?”
“Hobie Brown with the Venom symbiote would have been unstoppable,” Miguel says, turning to Hobie and delivering information that makes a chill run down his spine.
“Hobart Brown was meant to kill (Y/n) (L/n).”
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Text
the thing that gets you sometimes is the frustration. for every time someone else sees you being late, losing something, forgetting something important: there are hours in your day dedicated to it.
you have strange, fae-like rituals. the keys have to go in their special bowl, because if you forget even once, they will be gone forever. you stack items on a stool in front of your door so that you can't leave without touching them. you can't take your wallet out of your bag, ever, it will simply fade away.
everything has to be written down. everything, everything. whatever you need to do, you need to do it now. you check and re-check the busmap only to still get lost on the same route you've always taken home. you start getting ready to go 3 hours early and still end up 15 minutes late, unsure even of where the time has gone. don't sit down, there's something strange about your bed or the couch or the floor - once you sit down, you'll get stuck.
you are very used to operating without instructions. people say you're good at winging it but really you've never really known where the rules are coming from. you have to live in constant strange anticipation - when your brain does fail you, how can you predict every horrible outcome. maybe today you will have a minor curse, and forget to brush your teeth. or maybe today you will wake up - and no matter what you do, your whole body begs to return you back to sleep. maybe today you will break a glass and then just stand there, surrounded by the shards, frozen in place - because you need to go to the bathroom, but you also need to sweep.
and everyone else seems to have gotten the memo, and it's easy for them, and it never, ever gets easy for you. make plans and keep them. they roll their eyes when you say sorry it's too messy we can't go over to my apartment. they ask why did you leave something so big until the last minute. on instagram, your friend makes a reel where she says if they cared, they would change. they literally do not care. someone says it's a symptom, and in the comments, all they get is then go to therapy! it can't control everything you do!
so you go to therapy. and you work out to calm down and you do your self-care and you try to be grateful for the small things. and you structure literally your entire life around it, around the ways you can't live right. you have failsafe over failsafe over red flag. you have shelves of organizational manuals. you have alarms for things like did you remember to eat that you still manage to figure out how to snooze. you have time-blocked sites and deleted apps you get lost in and you are constantly trying. because you also want a life where you are not stepping over laundry. juggling knives, you spend your whole life feeling like you're ice skating.
and still. she sighs at you. i mean, it's just. i don't understand how you constantly miss all the small stuff. i mean, this is the easy part. you're just not trying hard enough.
#i ran out of meds today.#and like. it was a bad day for that#and i called them in on friday so it could just be that they're not like. u know.#filled yet. but BOY :)
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OKAY BUT WHAT IF MIGUEL WAS THE VIRGIN?!
Omg Anon, your brain! Thank you for this!
Paring: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, virginity loss, size difference, a bit of teasing, growling, praise, gentle sex
A/N: Why do I find the idea of a virgin Miguel so appealing?
Virgin!Miguel might be a virgin when it comes to his cock but things like fingering and oral sex are something he knows a lot about. He's done these things before but... well... he's always been very self-conscious of his size. Even if his previous lovers told him it was fine he never wanted to hurt them so he never really lost his virginity to anyone. You will be his first, the only one to ever get his cock.
"I don't think I'm very skilled in these things. I'm sorry but I've only had a few partners before this and it never went this far. Just looking at your pussy is... are you sure I'll fit in there? Of course I really want to, I'm as hard as a rock for you. But what if you don't like it? What if I'm too much? Take it slow? I can but... you need my cock now? You're a needy one."
Virgin!Miguel is indeed as hard as a rock for you but your next orgasm he would rather have you come all over his abs. So he does give you his cock, not in the way you'd expect though. His girthy dick slides over your clit, slow almost teasing pace to make you push your hips upwards. When you're about to come he presses down on you with his whole body, your cum rolling down his cock and abs when he moves away. He might be a virgin but he knows what you want.
"Sorry if I teased you. You gotta understand that it's the only thing I can offer you with confidence right now. When I see how cute you get, how much you want it, want me, want my cock to make you come I can't help myself. Looks like you're ready. Spread your legs please."
Virgin!Miguel shakes a little when the tip of his cock pushes inside your pussy, it's unlike anything he's felt before. All those toys he has and none of them could ever compare to the real thing. He knows that now. Might as well just throw them all away because now he has somewhere so much better to put his cock into. Although he has a pretty high libito so if you want to be his new toy you're gonna have to deal with his hard cock a lot.
"Fuck. Hold on, stop, I need to stop for a bit. Are all pussies this good or are you special? I don't think I'll be finding out any time soon cause I could get addicted to this one. I'm not even properly inside you and I already feel my balls tightening. Are you on birth control? Okay, so you won't mind if I come inside."
Virgin!Miguel comes hard as soon as he thrusts a few times. He thought that all the masturbating he did would prepare him for the real deal but apparently not. He's doing his best to fuck you through his orgasm in an effort to give you your. A lot of cum is pushed out and then back in as he slots your hips right against yours, his lips curled and teeth showing, little grunts and growls falling from his mouth
"Thought I'd last longer then this. Yeah, I'm a little embaressed, wouldn't you be if you couldn't last longer with the prettiest girl in the world? Are you sure those orgasms earlier were enough? I'll be hard again in an hour so I fully plan on making it up to you. What do you say pretty, will you help me with my endurance training?"
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara imagine#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel smut#marvel smut#spiderverse x reader#atsv x reader#atsv imagines#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o’hara#spiderman 2099 smut#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel x you#x female reader
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