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katiexpunk · 2 months

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Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that.

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two.

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet.

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office.

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists.

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.”

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits.

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid.

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month.

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts.

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old.

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time.

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30.

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits.

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you.

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand.

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty.

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking.

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse.

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep.

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place.

"Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table.

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked.

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself.

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake.

He’s just another customer.

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy.

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible.

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it.

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back.

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it.

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it.

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night.

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it.

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented.

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell.

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright.

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you.

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer.

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it. Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot.

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You.

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore.

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip.

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello.

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is.

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know.

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that?

Jesus.

No.

He’s just a customer.

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything.

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back.

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan.

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet.

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever.

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone.

But you don’t call or text.

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager.

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type.

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock.

Fuck.

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except –

Somethings wrong.

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off.

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense.

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight.

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that.

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now.

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect.

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two.

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern.

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn��t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened.

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you.

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind.

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you.

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one.

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need.

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her.

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response.

Rip off the fucking bandaid man.

“Why didn’t you call?”

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.

But no.

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his.

“Ki–”

Fuck it.

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more.

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral.

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal.

Fuck. Yes.

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more.

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs.

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots.

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body.

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now.

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby.

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you.

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More.

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you.

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line.

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away.

Please, he pleads to himself silently.

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan.

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale.

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you.

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing.

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole.

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core.

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him.

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again.

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more –

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height.

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste.

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now.

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now.

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life.

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him.

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare.

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind.

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time.

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him.

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless.

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second.

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him.

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you.

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it.

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.

“Wanna smoke?”

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own.

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both.

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day.

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with.

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept.

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat.

He wants more.

And something tells him you do, too.

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #consent #joel miller #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic #Joel's POV

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wettvagina · 6 months

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REVENGE COUPLE

SYNOPSIS: Jean cheats on you with Mikasa, and Mikasa cheats on Eren with Jean. Subsequently, you and Eren get together. The perfect revenge couple.

WARNINGS: p in v , creampie

a/n:lol

You laid almost lifelessly in the comfort of your bed, in your dorm room. Your mouth was dry and your eyes felt heavy, your hair physically triggered you as you could sense the grease and tangles.

You laid there, bitterly as your phone buzzed repeatedly, you didn't know if you've even processed everything yet, however this pain was like a knife in the heart. It was as if, something you've worked so hard for, perfecting it with every second passing, was suddenly stolen from you.

That pinpointed half of what you were feeling, the other half being the feeling of resentment and a sense of palapbility towards yourself, taking great concern towards your flaws, physically and mentally. You simply felt like an object, something that somebody could chew up, then spit out when they've grown bored, or in your case; chew up and spit you out when they want a new one.

Thoughts; memories, moments, words he said to you, all ran through your mind, toying with your head as you leaned into your pillow, wondering, why?

Just why? Were you not good enough, did you not put your everything into your relationship, were you annoying, or did he not find you attractive. Thoughts plagued your mind consecutively before one thought occupied all the space.

Maybe he was just an asshole.

An asshole; for doing that.

for making you feel this way.

for making you look at yourself in a hateful way.

Or perhaps, you were just gullible, foolish for believing that genuine love could florish between people like you two, you were simply stupid for loving him in the first place, for giving him all of you and him betraying you in the snap of a finger was your punishment.

Pain, anxiety, lonliness was constant in your system, as you fell into the loop; reminiscing the memories you shared with him, painting him as an asshole to get your brain to move on, deducing yourself to be a fool for loving him in the first place, as lastly concluding that you were still in love with him.

You sighed for the hundredth time, turning your face so that your vision pointed up at the ceiling, you extended your hand to grab your phone which vibrated against the wooden nightstand it laid on, providing a small exposure of light in your pitch black room.

Turning on your phone, you see the million notifications from your friends, asking if you were okay, you saw some notifications from boys whom were waiting patiently for you and Jean to break up to slide into your DMs.

Clicking on the Instagram icon, you waited for the homepage to load, your heart begun drumming against your chest as you saw the pink-to-orange gradient circle around Jean's round profile photo displayed on recently uploaded stories.

Impulsively, you clicked the icon, regret coiling in your brain as the story took time to load, upon loading, your eyes widened, seeing Mikasa's face posted to a love song, the red heart emoji captioned the screen as the story, and the music played from your phone.

Your eyes prickled with tears as you slammed your phone onto the bed, you screamed into your pillow, groaning as you stood to your feet, "This won't fucking do.'' you grunted, "Hey y'all, halloween party at my place, pull up if you're free" Floch's voice ringed from your phone, turning your phone screen to face you, you looked at Floch's Instagram story that automatically played, an evil smirk forming on your face as you rummaged through the pile of clothes on your floor.

Grabbing a black bra, a pair of shorts and a pair of black boots which stopped mid-calf, you stripped out of your two-day old clothes, wrapping yourself in a towel before stepping into the shower. "Siri, play some music." you chimed as your hype-music boomed from your phone's speaker.

Stepping into the shower, you washed your hair, shaved every part of your body with caution, muttering "I have to get laid." repeatedly like a crazy woman. Stepping out of the shower, you grabbed a black thong, music boomed in your ears as you danced in your dorm room while slipping the thong up your thighs, followed by your dark blue denim shorts, you grabbed the straps of the thong, raising them so they were visible under your shorts.

You clipped on your bra while opening your minifridge using your feet, you grabbed your emergency bottle of Hennessy, downing a large gulp, scrunching your face as the bitterness settles in your tongue, burning your throat as it enters your system, feeling a slight buzz, you downed a larger gulp, manically searching for your phone in the covers of your bed with your right hand, bottle of Hennessy in your left hand, taking occassional sips, bliss and excitedness pumping through your body.

Turning off the music which was playing, you shoved your phone in your back pocket of your shorts, leaving the open bottle of Hennessy on the wooden side table near your bed as you slip on your black boots, "Fuck where is it." you cursed as you searched your pile of clothes for a vital item for your costume.

"Yes!" you cheered upon finding the black cat ears, adjusting them onto your head before standing onto your feet, looking at yourself in the mirror. "How could somebody ever leave me." you mutter to yourself, touching your corporeal body as you look at yourself in the mirror.

Snatching your phone from your back pocket, you open the Instagram app, swiping to the camera feature, snapping some sexy pictures of yourself in your costume, finding a picture you liked, you put a song by Stunna Girl before posting it, waiting for it to upload before twisting the doorknob which kept you inside your dormroom, sashaying out of your dorm with clicks of your boots snapping from the floor.

"Goddamn!" someone muttered as you made your way through the hallway of several dormatories, upon reaching outside of your building complex, you took a large sniff of the air outside, perceptive of the afternoon breeze which smelled like maple syrup and cold donuts, you watched the hues of the sky, the bright orange to pink gradient seemingly more interesting as compared to other days where you'd immediately rush inside, not even peering up at the sky.

"Taxi." you called out, stepping into the yellow, black-striped vehicle, giving the driver details of your destination. You could hear the music from outside, the low-volume songs ascended its booming as you came closer to the property.

Floch's house was decorated with halloween decor, along with color-changing strip lights which illuminated the porch, displaying all the action of the people whom occupied the area; there were people kissing, grabbing at eachother, dancing, drinking, some even seemed to be getting fingered.

The yard of this frat house was littered with disposed bottles, snack paper wrapper, some tiny ziplock bags, as well as some red plastic cups. Kicking some shards of glass from the concrete pathway, you felt as if the ground was shaking to the beat of the music, your atomosphere synchronised with the sound of the music as you stepped into the porch, feeling the stares on you.

Tightening the straps of your bra and digging your phone even deeper into your pocket, you stepped into the house, the music becoming vivid as your eyes dazed at the disco-themed flashing lights reflected in your pupils.

Upon enterance, you were already pushed into the swaying crowd, dancing to whatever 90s to early 10s mix the DJ created, you heard yells, chants and moans compete with the playing music, you searched the entire room, subconsiously, counting all the people you were familiar with; Floch, Reiner, Ymir and Sasha.

You grinned when your eyes met with Sasha's, a grin of shame and embarrassment pratically, Sasha ran up to you, embracing you with tenderness as you giggled, holding back some tears as you expected the following words to come out of her mouth, "Listen, Jean's an asshole." she started, "Look at you, so beautiful, he should be lucky to even say he breathed the same air as you." she went on, grabbing your knuckles as she spoke, "It's fine, I'm fine and I really don't wanna talk about it." you vocalized, "Mhm, well, drinks are in the kitchen, but I feel like you already pre-gamed." she chatted, "Mhm, thanks." you smile at her before you all go your separate ways.

You pushed through the sonorous, shickered crowd, occasionally making eye contact with the boys whom knifed their gazes at you as if you were a piece of meat. You assumed you were in the hallway, as you passed through the dimly-lit, narrow path, barely littered with maudlin people, you heard voices paired with snickers as you reached closer to the kitchen, the song suddenly faded into a new one, and you heard louder chants and yawps from the distant crowd in the living room.

Both your eyebrows raised as you enetered the kitchen, involuntarily staring at Jean and Mikasa, Mikasa sat on the counter of the island, in the middle of the kitchen, around her jumbled with several alcohol bottles, Jean situated himself between her thighs, hands caressing her skin.

Soon, you saw Jean's perforating stare, his eyes shifted to Mikasa's face, whispering into her ears, soon she looked back at you, giggling when she faced Jean. You clenched your jaw, rage pumping through your veins, you swore your face would turn into rock as your stone-faced expression appeared.

Oh you were going to tell her. you swore to yourself, cursing under your breath as you noticed snickers and giggles from everyone in the kitchen, all of them with eyes pointing at you. "Aye Jean, can I make a move on your old girl." your heard a boy try to whisper to Jean with little effort to conceal his words, Jean looked at him, "Yeah, whatever." Jean ragged, with an I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck expression, all his attention keen on Mikasa, the group of boys laughed as you took a step forward, grabbing a bottle of whatever you were capable of picking up.

Popping the lid off, you turned around, gulping down the substance recklessly, a poor attempt to compress the pain stinging in your chest and the weakness your body suddenly felt. Taking an electrifying gulp, you placed the bottle on the nearest counter top which spanned around the walls of the room of the kitchen, "It'd be so hilarious if Eren shows up." Connie snickered, jabbing at Reiner who stood in a separate corner, before Reiner formed a snarky comment, you felt a presence in front of you.

Speak of the devil.

The entire room burst out in laugher, Eren's eyes meets Mikasa's as she smiles shyly, mockery interpretated from her actions, Jean's eyes lingered at Eren's somehow laid back expression. Was he high?

You thought to yourself, of course you were no dummy, you knew that Mikasa left Eren for Jean, the same way Jean left you for Mikasa, theoretically, you and Eren were on the same boat. You looked up at Eren, who's gaze shifted from Mikasa, then to Jean and then to the other people in the room lampooning on the current situation.

Then Eren's eyes shifted down onto you. You and Eren weren't strangers, you knew him and he knew you. Before him and Mikasa were together, as well as before you and Jean were together, Mikasa and Jean were together.

Mikasa and Jean's relationship were ragged at, due to the fact that Mikasa had been with several guys closely associated with Jean before hopping to Jean, both you and Eren ridiculed their relationship, that was back when you and Eren were colleagues, calling your relationship 'friends' would be pushing it.

However, your companionship with him soon came to an ironic end when Mikasa seemingly cheated on Jean with Eren, and in the next few weeks Eren isolated himself completely, ruining himself for a girl that would soon ruin him.

And well, out of convienence, Jean ran to you.

Everything was all and well, until the equilibrium was broken, meaning; Mikasa got bored of Eren and effortlessly jumped to Jean who was more than gleeful to take her back.

Oh well, end of backstory. Back to the present.

You looked up at Eren, a grin on your face, one that was hinted with slight mockery, you moved to the side, avoiding his figure as you walked out of the kitchen. Not wanting to be in that unbearing environment, you questioned yourself, wondering why you even came to this party. Soon, all your questions came to an abrupt end when the song switched, satisfyingly. You briskly walked to the living room, looking for an unoccupied body to grind on as you felt the sudden buzz of the alcohol.

The crowd ate your body as you found yourself backing it up on a random girl, slurring your words as you sung the lyrics to the song in a maudlin tone, woozy from the alcohol. Soon the music switched, and the lighting suddenly dimmed, you checked your phone, seeing the time was 6P.M, meaning the party had just kicked off.

Smirking when you felt a large presence tower behind you, you purposefully, pushed yourself backwards, poking your ass out as you moved your waist in a circle, feeling the person's large, calloused hands roam over the dip of your waist, down to your hips, keeping a steady hold as he grinded onto you.

You felt yourself getting wetter as you were somehow able to smell him, his colonge which was paired with an innocent whiff of shampoo, with the twist of your neck, you turned looking at who was behind you. Biting your lower lip once you realized it was Eren.

His eyelids were heavy as he looked down at your body, the globe of your ass covered by the denim of your shorts which was pressed against his grey sweatpants. His hands grabbed at your hips, pulling you onto him, you teasingly wriggled your hips, the flesh of your ass recoiling. "Fuck." he groaned, "Stop." he murmured, his raspy voice rang in your ears, and you were sure that there was a wet spot on your panties right now.

At this point alcohol had arrogated your body, impulsively, you pushed your ass back onto him, feeling how hard he was getting under his sweats. His hands housed your hips, you felt his touch tensen as he seemingly pulled you into him, you looked back at him, biting your lip when his eyes met yours.

At this point, the songs started switching more frequently, and more people started piling up in the living room, increasing the size of the crowd. "Holy shiiit, is that Eren?" an unfamiliar voice spoke amongst the loud music playing paired with the noisy crowd of swaying bodies. "Yeah, with Jean's girl." another voice was heard.

Pausing your movements you turned to look at where the interrogative voices emerged from, before you could even turn your head, Eren made you straighten your back, the back of your shoulders pressing against his chest, in one swift motion, Eren spun you around, making you face him.

You looked up at him, his dark green eyes piercing into yours as his hands found their way to your ass, his fingers settling on the curve. You looked at his eyes, then down to his pink lips, he then slowly started lowering his head, you knew where this was going.

Your heart throbbed in your chest, as your pussy simultaneously throbbed in your panties, his lips pressed onto yours in the warmest way possible, you felt his hands grip onto your ass as you maneuvered your hands to grab at his deep brunette hair.

For a split second, everything went silent, and you felt as though every emotion you previously endured had suddenly disappeared, the warmth of his lips somehow spread throughout your body, as you clenched your thighs together, breaking out of the heated kiss, Eren's lips never left the close contact of your skin as he traced down to your ears.

"C'mon." he whispered, before he slightly distanced himself from your face, his hands left your ass as he grabbed onto your hand, dragging you through the crowd, you didn't even notice the stares, paired with the several 'oohs' and cheers of other people, taking notice of the situation occurring.

Eren led you upstairs, which was dark and quiet, the orange murkiness of light which dispersed through the room shone over your head as the heels of your boots dug into the light tuape-colored carpet, the buttermilk shaded walls hung several abstract paintings of fruits.

You suddenly looked down at Eren's larger hand which clasped yours, feeling the torridity in your chest, stopping infront a walnut-colored door, with a silver doorknob, you looked up at Eren, heart thumping in your chest as his greedy, green eyes roamed up and down your body.

"You don't want to?" he questioned, genuine concern imbued into his voice, "I want to!" you confirmed, practically squealing, Eren giggled as he twisted the doorknob, allowing you to walk in first, you examined the umber-brown walls, paired with the same taupe-grey carpets from the hall, the atmosphere of the dimly-lit candle which attempted to illuminate the room echoed with the wall colors.

You felt a sudden whirpool of emotion in your body, to put it simply, greed, you wanted to fuck him so badly that it made your pussy dampen in his mere presence. Eren came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, pressing his lips against the shell of your ear, "So fucking beautiful, how could anybody even think of leaving you." he sibilated.

His hand traveled down to the buttons of your shorts, unbuttoning the first loop before sliding down the zipper, his fingers slithered down your pants, rubbing at your clit, upon his sudden contact with your pussy, you held back the moans which arose.

"So fucking wet." he whispered as he let out a chuckle, his chin rested on your shoulder as he used one hand to massage your boobs, and the other to play with your pussy. Everything felt too good, you bit your lower lip as you felt your legs weaken.

"Listen." Eren whispered into your ear, "How bout' we make a little video for your lying boyfriend." Eren suggested, you turned your face to look at him, your lips meeting his in a slow, deep kiss.

"Mm, yeah." you agreed, "Alright, get on the bed, princess." Eren instructed, you walked up to the grey sheeted bed, sitting on the edge as Eren loosened the string on his sweatpants, pulling down the waistband, exposing the large tent in his boxers. You bit your lower lip as you looked at his clothed cock, right in front of you.

"Eren." your voice called out, "Hm?" he looked down at you, walking up to you, caressing your face with one hand, "I want you to fuck me from the back." you stated, you watch Eren's lips tug into a smirk as you got onto your fours.

Arching your back, you felt Eren's large hands around the belt loops of your shorts, slipping the denim fabric off, exposing your black thong which concealed your throbbing pussy. You could feel Eren's fingers slide away the thin piece of cloth which clothed your pussy, "You ready, princess?" he questioned, stroking his dick, coating his shaft with his pre-cum which oozed out of the tip.

"Mm, yeah." you groaned, you felt the tip of his cock, prodding at your wet enterance, "Fuckkk." Eren cursed as he slid his entire length into your welcoming pussy, your walls coating his dick with your juices.

"Shiit." you whined, his slow movements producing moans from you as his extensive, and broad cock pushed in and out of you. "You're so sexy like this." Eren groaned, his hand reaching to hold onto your hip as he buried his cock into you, feeling for his phone, he pulled it out, swiping to the Camera setting and hitting the record button.

"C'mon, show Jean what he can't have." Eren grunted, "Bounce on my dick, baby." Eren encouraged with a breathy giggle as you pushed yourself up and down his length, moaning his name as the friction of your walls against his hard, heavy cock sent a rush of pleasure up your spine, bliss fogging your brain.

Eren used his hand on your hips to pull and push you up and down his cock, his rickety, heavy breaths were heard as his head fell back, groaning your name at the soft, yet intense feeling of your pussy wrapped around his throbbing cock, bobbing up and down on it.

All the times he had engaged in having sex previously, could never amount to this, he made sure to get the way your ass sprung back on his cock with every thrust, pointing his iPhone camera at an angle where you looked best.

Likewise, you never felt as good as how you felt now, Eren's dick was significantly better than Jean's, and the whole concept of Eren recording you on his cock simply made it better, you arched your back as your knees dug into the sheets, you felt a mixture of yours and Eren's arousal drip down between your thighs.

"Oh fuuuck!" you bawled when Eren suddenly slammed into you, hearing your skin slap against his, "Shit, I'm close." he moaned, his pace quickened as he slammed into you, faster and harder, causing your pussy to react immediately by clenching around his cock, as the knot in your lower stomach become undone, you came all over his cock, prompting him to come inside of you.

"Fuck, I'm coming." Eren panted in the midst of your moans, painting your walls white with his come as you felt him pulse inside of you. Your breaths were heavy and unsteady as you felt Eren pull out, you heard several clicks from his phone.

"How bout' you do it?" he offered, displaying his phone screen; the already attached video file of your recent sextape in Jean's chat. With barely any hesitation, you used your remaining energy to click the send button, falling flat onto your chest with an exhausted sigh as you heard Eren chuckle.

"You want the video." he asked, with a soft voice as he laid next to you, sweat coating his forehead. "First ones never come out good, I'll take the second one." you teased, hoping you'd get to have another experience like this with him again, very soon.

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren aot #eren smut #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #shinjeki no kyojin #eren yaeger smut #eren jeager x you #eren collegeau

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dustofthedailylife · 1 year

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A Fennec Fox's Guide To Botany

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Summary: Tighnari comes back from a day of work and is greeted by yet another new patient who has consumed poisonous mushrooms in the forest. That it would be another fennec fox he'd have to save is a surprise - yet not an unwelcome one.

Pairing: Tighnari x Fennec Fox!Reader (gn!)

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mentions of food poisoning and corresponding symptoms (Reader)

A/N: Back with a new fic! This is the first time I wrote something for Tighnari outside of headcanons and I hope I managed to portray his character well. I brainrotted about the idea of this fic a while ago and just couldn't get it out of my head. Hope you like it! :3

→ Part 2 (A Fennec Fox's Guide to Love)

Today had been a rather uneventful day in Avidya Forest. Now that Irminsul was cured, thanks to the efforts of the Traveler, the number of Withering Zones that still remained throughout the forest steadily decreased every day and they were generally easier to deal with, too. Additionally, Collei was as energetic as ever now that her Eleazar was cured.

Though just as Tighnari came back from patrol training with Collei Amir, the Search and Rescue Dog Trainer of the Forest Watchers hurriedly ran in their direction as soon as he spotted them back at the camp.

“Master Tighnari!”, he panted breathlessly and came to a halt in front of the pair.

“Amir? What’s wrong? Did the dogs eat poisonous mushrooms like last time?”, Tighnari retorted half amused.

There really was always something, wasn’t there? He should be surprised but he really wasn't anymore. There goes his chance of getting some downtime for once.

“No! Well… yes. I mean, no, not directly.”, Amir stammered.

“Well, what is it now? Yes or no?”

“Please just come with me and take a look.”, Amir prattled on before he quickly hurried back towards the medical hut.

Tighnari didn’t know what was going on yet but his gut feeling told him that it meant nothing good. It wasn’t rare that he was called over to assist with a patient but never before had he seen Amir so anxious.

As he pushed past the entrance of the hut he found Amir and another Forest Ranger standing in front of the bed where he could vaguely make out the legs of a heavily shivering person. If he had to take a wild guess it was likely yet another fool who couldn’t tell a poisonous mushroom apart from an edible one. The usual tourist; they ate everything they could find on the forest floor.

Tighnari sighed deeply and pushed past the others towards the bed and that’s where he found you lying. He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw you. You were a fennec fox just like him. The fur on your features was mainly golden-beige colored and had a color gradient toward the tips of your tail and ears that matched your hair color.

Your ears were flattened downwards against your head, your eyes were pressed shut and your mouth was pulled into a pained grimace. Beads of sweat were running down your forehead as you were writhing on the bed with your hands clasped over your stomach and your tail tucked in between your legs.

The anger that had been welling up inside the pit of his stomach the entire way here was gone the second he laid eyes on you.

All these years he spent thinking he was the only Fennec fox left in Sumeru and then you suddenly appear out of nowhere with a strong food poisoning. As much as he wanted to be as annoyed as he usually was towards tourists, he couldn’t quite bring himself to be. Especially not when you looked so incredibly beautiful. It felt wrong to him to think about something like this in the current situation but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“What happened?”, he questioned Amir without averting his gaze.

“We found them while on patrol. They begged us to help them because they were in horrible pain, babbling something about eating mushrooms and that they were hungry… as soon as we arrived here they started hallucinating and were completely unresponsive. They seem to be deteriorating fast.”, Amir explained with a quivering voice. He looked like he was scared out of his mind and close to tears.

“Did they mention what they ate?”, Tighnari inquired, trying his hardest to keep his composure because if he didn't you'd be a goner.

He found himself thinking that it is lucky he returned right on time because no matter how good his Forest Rangers otherwise were when it came to medical emergencies or unprecedented incidents, they were completely unfit to deal with them.

“They mentioned something about a… red starshroom with white dots, I think?”

“Star Death Cap… abdominal pain, nausea, fever, hallucinations. Highly poisonous…”, Tighnari mumbled to himself as he rummaged inside the medical cabinet in the corner of the room. He took out several medical supplies and a small bottle containing a bright green liquid.

“Master, can you still help them?!”, Amir hysterically interrupted while nervously dancing around on the spot behind Tighnari.

“Not if you keep making me nervous, Amir. Leave, both of you. I need room to think.”, he bit back.

Amir waved to the other Forest Ranger who had been present the entire time as well and quickly left the hut with a worried frown painted on his face.

Tighnari took a deep breath and pulled a chair in front of the bed where you were lying. He took out a flashlight and pulled your eyes open with his the pad of his thumb to test the reaction of your pupils; and if he was being honest things weren’t looking too good. Your eyes barely reacted to the light at all and you didn’t even seem to properly notice him. Even though he knew from himself that fennec foxes had a high toxin resistance, he still needed to act, otherwise, things were looking grim for you.

He stood up from his chair again and went to grab the cup with the medicine he had concocted for this specific type of mushroom, although he has never had to use it before since people usually didn’t eat the mushroom you seemed to have consumed. It was bright red and basically screamed “danger, don’t eat me”. Although that didn’t seem to be enough to stop you from eating it. If you were going to make it, he’s got to ask you what in Celestia you were thinking.

He lifted the cup to your face and carefully aligned it with your lips when you suddenly grabbed his wrist and looked directly at him.

“A-are you a god?”, you breathed out through pants while you stared at him with eyes wide-blown in surprise.

“What?”, he startled. You were probably hallucinating again, but even though he was very much aware of that, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating an octave higher. “No. N-no! I’m Tighnari, I’m a Forest Watcher.”

“You’re the Dendro Archon!”, you revered and clutched one hand into the fabric of his sweater as soon as you saw the Dendro vision dangling on his hip. He tried to loosen your grip on him again in order to not spill the medicine you so desperately needed to take but you held onto him for dear life.

You pulled yourself up and snaked your arms around his neck, your fluffy tail slowly swaying from left to right behind you while you nuzzled your head against his cheek with a soft hum. Your soft ears brushed against his cheek and he could feel the heat that emanated from your body. The poison in your system was causing you to burn up rapidly. If he didn’t hurry up now the protein in your cells would start to coagulate and he couldn’t let that happen.

“I’ve dreamt about you a lot. I’ve always wanted to meet you… and to think you’re so handsome, too.”, you rambled on, making his heart flutter uncontrollably in his chest. “If I make it you have to promise to give me a kiss.” If you were planning to keep going like that it was he who soon needed medical attention instead.

Despite you making his head spin, Tighnari decided to take advantage of your hallucination-induced confusion and used his “role” as the Dendro Archon to make you comply so he could finally make you take the much-needed medicine.

“I’ve come to help you. It is my job as the deity of Sumeru to protect its citizens and I have sensed that you are in grave danger.”, Tighnari vowed. He could feel your grip on his sweater loosen and saw you look deep into his eyes, flattening your ears against your head in awe again. “Will you let me help you?”

You slowly nodded and let him raise the cup with the medicine to your lips. You felt a light burn shoot through your system as soon as the bitterness of the medicine enveloped your tastebuds. You contorted your face due to the unpleasant taste and soon after felt how your eyelids suddenly grew heavy, making you fall into a deep slumber.

Once you had fallen asleep in his arms Tighnari carefully tucked you in and rested your head on the pillow. He softly brushed over your hair and ears before smiling to himself. All you needed now was a good night’s sleep and you’d be as good as new.

As soon as the sun rose over Avidya Forest the next morning, Tighnari went back to the medical hut to check on your condition. He had brewed some tea and prepared some pita pockets for you to eat since he figured you must be hungry. He had thought about making his signature mushroom hodgepodge for you but considering that you had just overcome mushroom poisoning, you probably wouldn’t be eager to eat them again immediately.

When he entered the hut he found you sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and eagerly staring at him.

“Good morning! Welcome back from the dead!”, Tighnari greeted you.

“Ehe, good morning.”, you awkwardly chuckled, scratching yourself behind your ears while avoiding his gaze. “Thanks for saving my butt yesterday.”

“That’s what we do here. You somehow managed to consume one of the rarest and most poisonous mushrooms in the entire rainforest.”, he explained.

“Guess that is just my luck, as usual.”

"You're lucky fennec foxes have a high poison resistance."

"We do?"

"We do.", he nodded with a small smile. You were beyond adorable to him.

Tighnari passed you a cup of the herbal tea he brought along with him, as well as one of the pita pockets, which you hungrily devoured like someone who hasn’t had anything to eat in a week.

“Say, what made you eat the mushroom anyway?”

You awkwardly averted your gaze again while you felt the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. You were incredibly ashamed about your absolute incompetence, especially because of the attractive man in front of you, who just happened to be a fox like you, too.

“This is kind of awkward… but I’m from the desert and am about to start as an Amurta scholar at the Akademiya in a couple of months. I wanted to get acquainted with the local botany and… I kind of got lost in the forest and eventually was so starved I started collecting mushrooms.”

You were supposed to become an Amurta scholar and managed to consume the most poisonous mushroom in the entire forest. It was so ironic that Tighnari wasn’t able to hold back his laughter which flustered you even further and made your ears droop. At least the fact that you were from the desert explained why you didn’t understand the local flora and fauna.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”, he said as he wiped a tear out of the corner of his eyes. “It’s just a bit ironic is all.”

“Yeah… I know. I’m kind of embarrassed about it as well. I can’t make a bigger fool out of myself at this point.”, you awkwardly chuckled.

“Mhhh, I don’t know about that, you thought I was the Dendro Archon yesterday and called me handsome.”, Tighnari casually remarked. “Oh, and then then you made me promise to give you a kiss if you end up making it.”

You spat your tea out in full force following his last sentence. How was he able to recite it so casually when your heart was about to burst out of your chest? Archons, how embarrassing.

“I take that back… apparently I can make an even bigger fool out of myself. Forgive me.”, you retorted, pulling your ears over your eyes with your hands in an attempt to hide behind them. And while it was correct, you did think he was incredibly attractive, you had probably ruined every chance with him after this encounter anyway.

Contrary to your beliefs however, Tighnari thought you were beyond pretty and adorable. Even more so when you were flustered.

“Well, coincidentally this handsome Dendro Archon happens to have graduated from Amurta. So, if you’re willing, I could give you a quick rundown of the local botany.”, he proposed cheekily but not without a blush starting to bloom across his own cheeks as well.

“You would do that for me? That definitely sounds like it could save me from trouble like this again in the future.”, you agreed with an awkward chuckle as your tail began to wag.

“Perfect. You’re free to rest here as long as you like before we start your personal crash course… oh and by the way, the name’s Tighnari, pleased to meet you.”, he introduced himself, stretching his hand out for you to shake; unknowingly making both of your hearts flutter in unison.

“I’m pleased to meet you, too.”

What a curious little fox you were. He couldn’t wait to get to know you better. After all, he still had to fulfill the promise he gave you.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari x y/n #tighnari x you #genshin fluff #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin x female reader #genshin x gn reader #tighnari #genshin crack #genshin x you #genshin fanfiction #🍁 dust writes

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

From One Master to Another

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Gordon Ramsay isn't a classically trained pastry chef; he knows the savory, not the sweet. This time, the coursework involves instruction in desserts--and he'll find that he has just as much to learn as his students, Vil and Jack, do. I conducted a lot of research for this installment (reading articles on how to ice cakes + the science behind macarons, and, of course, watching videos where GR gets humbled and learns from fellow culinary masters). It provided me with a fresh perspective to write from~

Imagine this...

"... Jack."

"Yes, Vil-senpai?"

"What exactly am I looking at?"

Several countertops were covered in baking trays. Sugar circles sat upon waxy sheets, some collapsed and thinned out like wafers, others risen then caved in and cracked. It was an array of imperfections spanning the muted colors of the rainbow.

Jack clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable urge to itch the ears tucked under his hat, or to tear away the tangle of hair net containing his tail. His chef's jacket seemed to be straining to contain the entire bulk of him.

"Macarons," Jack reported.

Vil lifted a brow.

"... Er, at least they're supposed to be macarons," his underclassman awkwardly clarified.

Vil granted him a look of sympathy. "The poor things."

"W-Well, how did you do with your assignment?!" Jack stammered, eager to shift the subject. He glanced to Vil's table.

Lips pursed.

The model had gone with a light wash of makeup, simply a neutral brown gradient on his lids. His hair was arranged in a tight, tidy bun, flaxen bangs pinned back. Vil presented almost as flawless as a mirror's face—but certainly his cake didn't.

It was two layers tall (Jack had watched him saw and shape them earlier), stacked upon each other with a layer of buttercream sandwiched between them. The cake was starting to slope, as if in a desperate attempt to crawl to the exit. A coat of uneven chocolate frosting had hardened, forming odd peaks and lumps in a crust.

“That’s pretty rough.” Vil bristled at the words—sparse, yet biting. Jack continued. “How many cakes does this make, four?”

The question, unintentional needling.

“Seven,” Vil begrudgingly corrected him. Then, a small smirk formed. “And yourself? How many batches of macarons does this make?”

“Urk…!” Jack’s ears flattened, his bushy tail limp. “I guess we could both use more practice…”

“Jesus.”

The curse was spoken in a hissing whisper, emerging from neither from Vil nor Jack. It came from their teacher, an older man with weathered features—the result of wisdom and stress. He had been perched off to the side, observing his students’ skills in action, his frown seemingly ever extending as the mistakes piled up.

“Right then, maybe this isn’t working out,” Gordon Ramsay muttered, his eyes passing over a macaron graveyard and the crumbling cake mountains.

Not for lack of trying.

“Chef!” Jack immediately stood at attention. “We did our best to follow your instructions.”

“As you can see, the results were not particularly fruitful,” Vil chimed in. “We could do with additional instruction.”

Gordon startled, gaping at them. “Wait, you two want me to teach you more? You’re willing to listen?”

“Yessir!! Please guide us.”

“It’s as Jack says. We are here to learn and to enhance our culinary skillsets. We shouldn’t dawdle.” Vil narrowed his eyes. “Why do you act so surprised?”

“Can’t say this has happened very often.” Gordon stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The last time I had a pair of students this cooperative was months ago.”

“Just what exactly have the other Culinary Crucibles students put you through?” Vil angrily planted his hands on his hips. “Were Epel and Rook being disrespectful?"

Jack hesitated not wishing to speak ill of his Savanaclaw seniors. Still, it was easy for his mind to conjure the image of Ruggie swiping leftovers when no one was looking—“Free food is free food!”—and Leona yawning, mentally checked out of the situation.

"It's not hard to imagine," Jack confessed.

"They'll be getting an earful from me later!"

"Hmph, kids will be kids. I've dealt with cocky adults double their age or older acting like bigger babies. What's important is that they walked out of my kitchen better than when they first walked in."

Gordon leaned against a counter and folded his arms. Air escaped through his teeth. “Boys, I’ll be straight with you. Sweets, baking—it isn’t my specialty. I could try and teach you all bloody day and we'd still get nowhere."

“Are you serious?” Jack frowned. “So that means…”

"What I've already shown you is all I've picked up from experts back home. We've hit the ceiling."

“This can’t be!” Vil reeled, looking vaguely appalled. “If it’s come to this, then how will we possibly improve our craft?"

"I don't know."

I've never been in a kitchen where I haven't been in control.

"This is a fucking mess," Gordon groaned. I've failed my students.

“What’s with all the doom and gloom?”

Gordon bolted upright at the sudden voice.

A plump ghost manifested, suited up in a chef's jacket and hat. His face was as puffy as a marshmallows, and his belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly.

The head chef at Night Raven College.

"You fellas look like you've seen a ghost," he joked. "But never mind that. I noticed you’ve been standing around and being sad for a while now.”

“Right, that—” Gordon exchanged an anxious look with his students. He fumbled for an explanation, but didn’t have to.

“Oh my! Did you make these?” the ghost chef indicated the macarons and cakes. They were hard to miss. “Brave of you to start off with such finicky things. All in all, they’re not bad attempts."

"They're not?"

The ghost chuckled. “Of course not. How many times do you think a pastry chef muddles macarons or ices a cake incorrectly before it’s passable? It’s one part skill, one part practice, and one part learning as you go. Here, let me show you some tips and tricks I picked up myself.”

Vil, Jack—and even Gordon himself—watched in silent awe as the ghost chef went about his work.

Ingredients were effortlessly measured and sifter into a bowl (“Keeps it free of lumps!”), then whipped egg whites carefully folded into the batter. “You want stiff peaks for the whites, and minimum folding to get it incorporated!” Once the macarons were piped onto a sheet, the chef picked up the tray and slammed it down several times—“To scare off the air bubbles.”

The batch of macarons was slid into a waiting oven, and he started on his next task.

Into a stand mixer went several sticks of butter. The machine came to life, whipping the fats well.

“Traditional buttercream forms a crust over time,” the ghost chef explained. “That gets gritty and unpleasant! So here’s an alternate version that doesn’t crust. It’s less sweet, but still stable, easy to work with.“

He lifted a bottle and tipped its contents into the aerated butter. Transparent syrup fell in thick rivulets, and he grinned. Powdered sugar followed, visible only for seconds before it disappeared into the gathering frosting.

“The secret is light corn syrup. Using dissolved sugar instead of powdered makes the frosting smooth and stops it from hardening. Adds a fine luster to the frosting too!”

Using a spatula, he spooned the fresh buttercream into a piping bag and handed it off to Vil. “Scrape the stuff that’s on your cakes off and try again with this,” the ghost encouraged. “Should work like a dream!”

“Thank you,” Vil said, a little bewildered by the heft of the piping bag. “I will show you a beautiful dessert by yours truly.”

“Looking forward to it.”

DING!

The oven’s timer went off.

“That’s 13 minutes! Howl-kun, can you get the macarons?” called the ghost.

“Yes, Chef! I’m on it!” Jack, in a pair of heat-resistant mitts, marched to the oven and reached inside. He produced a tray of perfect pink domes, a cloud of ruffles—the macaron’s feet—at their bases. “Whoa.”

“A nice filling and they’ll be good to go. You’ve got it covered?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, good. Let us know if you need any help though, alright? That’s what your teachers are here for.”

Jack nodded, then retreated to his station. While the macarons cooled, he chopped white chocolate and tossed it into a pan with heavy cream. Moments later, they had melded into a rich ganache, sweetness hanging in a heavy cloud about it. One scoop was enough for a pair of shells, lightly pressed together.

Beside his junior, Vil was hard at work redoing a cake. His stand was set spinning, a bench scraper aligned to comb and smooth out the dollops of frosting he had painted along the sides. The cake was a blank white canvas, and Vil, the artist.

Sparks in their eyes, faces bright with the glow of determination.

“Incredible,” Gordon breathed, staring after the duo. He turned back to the head chef. “You made it look so easy.”

The ghost chef laughed and contentedly patted his stomach. “I’ve had my whole life and afterlife to master the skills!”

“No kidding. You saved my ass back there.”

And more importantly, he’s actually got the kids motivated again.

“You’re the one that’s helped us out a lot, Ramsay-kun. The kitchen is so short-staffed with so many students wanting to take the Culinary Crucibles elective this year. You took some of the instruction off of our hands. This is the very least I can do to return the favor.”

The head chef smiled. “Don’t forget, you can always call on us if you ever need help.”

“That right? Then I guess you wouldn’t mind helping me out with one more thing today.”

“Mm, what’s that?”

Gordon rolled up his sleeves, a newfound fire in his expression. “Please teach me too.”

“Huh?! You want me to teach you?”

“I’m as much of a student as they are—and I’d be honored to learn from a chef of your caliber.”

“Ramsay-kun…” The ghost teared up. “Oh, how could I refuse? I’d be happy to!! Go on now, get your own station set up and we can get started immediately.”

The creases in Gordon’s face lifted. His response, hearty and joyful.

“Yes, Chef!”

Vil glanced up from his cake. “… Are my eyes and ears deceiving me?”

“They aren’t.” Jack’s brows lifted. “I’m seeing and hearing it too.”

“It’s not so shocking,” Gordon grunted. “This is a school. We’re here to learn new skills and techniques—doesn’t matter if we’re student or teacher.“

“Fufufu,” Vil chuckled to himself. “Well, aren’t you humble?”

“Heh.” Jack found himself fighting to keep down a small smile. “I can respect that. Nothing wrong with a guy lookin’ to improve himself.”

“That makes three of us.”

We’re not that different at our very cores. Stubborn fools with dreams and aspirations of achieving something greater. For ourselves, for the ones around us.

The ghost chef clapped his doughy hands. “Isn’t this so exciting, class? We’re embarking on a culinary journey together! I hope you’re ready, because I sure am!”

They replied in unison, hearts united:

“Ready when you are, Chef!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Jack Howl #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Gordon Ramsay #Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons

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strwbmei1 · 9 months

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cw: friends with benefits, dubcon, name calling, reader is a fighter of high ranking status, sub!afab reader, mommy kink, some brainwashing, strap action, crying, degradation, bondage, dumbification (?)

You and Kafka had a.. complicated relationship, to say the least. To the public, she was a criminal and you were hunting her down— though, behind closed doors, it was hard to tell who was hunting who.

"Kafka. Why are you here?" You grimaced as you said her name, as if it was some sort of disease. "Oh, but I simply wanted to see you." Unfazed by the tip of your blade threatening to slit her throat; Kafka's expression stays the same.

You feel cold metal pressing against your stomach. A gun. Her gun. "So, you're a big shot now... Think you're too good to be tied up beneath me?" Your grip on the hilt of your sword loosens for a split second. "You..!"

Kafka takes advantage of your moment of weakness, effectively disarming you and pulling you in by your collar; her scent as intoxicating as ever. "We both know you'll end up on my bed again one way or another— so let's speed up the process."

"Listen to me."

You were going to refuse. Resist. Who does she think she is, telling you how you'll act? Does she really think you haven't changed? No. You weren't the same girl you were before. You aren't just going to let her seduce you.

Maybe.

NSFW under the cut !

You bit your lower lip as Kafka traced her fingers all over your body; struggling to no avail with ropes of silk bounding your wrists to the headboard of her bed. "..Fuck you."

"Mm.. sure. You aren't really in a position to talk to me like that, are you, bunny?" Kafka's smile only widened as she took your current state in; all tied up and ready for her to use. "Wait here."

A sigh of relief left you as soon as Kafka did the room. Though, as soon as the woman returned, you felt everything but relief. She held an 8" strap-on in her hand; the maroon tint at the base fading into a gradient of purple.

"You're kidding." You muttered, eyes widening at the sheer size. Kafka smiled almost reassuringly, yet you felt she was enjoying your reactions— and you'd be right. "What's wrong?" She mocked.

Your gaze traveled to Kafka, then back to the strap. "That's way too big..!" Cold and deft fingers took your chin between them, nails like daggers ready to pierce through your skin. "Oh, don't look at me like that, darling. You brought this upon yourself."

Kafka leaned in closer, licking her lips before pressing them onto yours. She moans into your mouth as she kisses you slowly, yet hungrily; the kiss as addictive as she is— at least, until you bit her lip.

"Tsk. You never learn your lesson, do you?" The mattress dips as Kafka gets up and puts on the strap. Even with the taste of blood on her lips; her eery smile hasn't wavered— not once. She knows she has you where she wants you. "You always make this so hard for me, sweetie.."

As you were about to open your mouth to speak, she pressed the tip of the strap on your lips. "Go on. Suck on mommy's cock." Begrudgingly, you followed her orders; using your limited range of movement to take in as much of it as you can.

"That's it.. good little slut." Kafka ran her fingers through your hair, pleased with the way you're gagging on her length and the way your throat bulges.

The seemingly innocent gesture quickly turned into her pushing your head down on her cock even further, forcing you to take more of her. "Come on, angel. I know you can take it."

"Mmph.. shtoo- much..!" Your sounds are muffled by her length stuffed down your throat, the vibrations making Kafka's head fall back. "Fuck.. such a fucking whore."

Fat tears wet your eyes, threatening to spill and run down your cheeks. "Aww.. are you gonna cry? Gonna cry for mommy?" She cooed, her thumb caressing your cheek and mockingly wiping your tears away.

You coughed as she finally pulled away, a feeling of emptiness lingering in your throat. "You're gonna take all of mommy's cock this time."

"Listen, you're going to be a good slut for me and take whatever I give you. You'll do whatever I say like the pathetic toy you are."

You're not sure if Kafka used her brainwashing again. You prayed that she did; that you'd have an excuse to give in— to give in to her. You'd do anything but believe in the truth that you're just her plaything; and especially in the truth that you enjoyed it. Wanted it.

Before you even realized, you had already spread your legs for her. "Good girl.." if you had known any better, you would have heard the sadistic laugh Kafka let out upon admiring your sorry state; her work of art.

Kafka's eyes didn't stray from you as she inserted the strap with little trouble, attentively watching your face contort from pleasure. "Just a few inches left... I told you you could take it."

You let out a soft moan as she completely bottomed out, mumbling about how full you feel. It was humiliating how easily your body took her in, as if you were made for this exact purpose.

"So tight, taking me so well." She hisses, thrusting at a slow pace without letting you adjust to the sheer size. Yet, it felt so fucking good. Why were you even trying to resist in the first place? It feels so good turning your brain off and just letting mommy use you.

The small bump on your stomach that disappeared and reappeared with each thrust didn't go unnoticed by Kafka. She presses down on it, making you feel even more full as her cock rubs against your most sensitive spots. "Mommy please, it's too good-"

Kafka shuts you up with a kiss as she picks up the pace, swallowing the moans and mewls you tried so hard not to let out. "Shh.. I know, I know." She wipes away the tears you weren't even aware were leaving streaks down your face.

"Do you want to be a good girl? Wanna be mommy's good girl?" You merely nod in your cockdrunk state, moving your hips to meet with hers. Her hand reaches down, palming your clit roughly.

A loud moan escapes you; head falling back at the sudden stimulation. "Please- I'm gonna..!" Kafka puts a finger on your bottom lip. "Good girls don't cum."

She knows how desperately you need it; how much it hurts, but you wanted to be a good girl, didn't you? You can hold it in.

Her thrusts grow deeper and harder. "Please, stop..! I don't want to cum, wanna be your good girl mommy please-" Kafka adored how desperate and needy you really are. You can pretend to be as high and mighty as you want— but in the end, you're nothing more than her slut.

"Then, don't cum." How she loved being mean to good little girls like you; setting you up for failure. Her smile only widened when you squirted all over her and her strap.

"Bad girl. Looks like I'm going to have to punish you."

———————————————

╰┈➤ Taglist ; @blue-spices , @fvrina , @dukemira , @sensanctuary , @large-octahedron , @sinsmockingbird

#x reader #smut #・❥・strwb smut #kafka honkai star rail #hsr kafka #kafka #kafka x reader #kafka smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut

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oneatlatime · 5 months

Text

The Desert

Alternate title: Gimme Appa back.

"But I believe, Aang can save the world." no pressure kid.

I had completely forgotten about these two chuckleheads. For once the 'Previously On' segment is useful rather than spoilery.

Ok Aang is going to get the world's biggest pass this episode, because he's in the suckiest of all situations. But even so, how exactly was Toph supposed to come and get them, when she was both actually blind for once and the only reason the library hadn't drowned them yet?

Aang has something of a history of running away. Does going after Appa count as running away from his friends?

Zuko's theatre kid tendencies are genetic.

The way Iroh said "What Now?" you know he was actually saying "fuck's sake."

Zuko's hair seems to grow very quickly. I thought that I could use his hair growth to measure time passing but this is not tracking. He barely had a buzz cut in The Chase and now he's fluffy.

Two things: a) this guy has eyes greyer than Aang this episode. b) He's cocking his hands like that ridiculous Henry Cavill scene from Mission Impossible where he cocks his biceps.

This guy's spear has piercings. And is coming out of a Dragon's mouth.

I don't know that I'd call these guys legendary. They're zero for two against an Avatar in Drag and two starving refugees with three functioning arms.

Doesn't Katara ever change out her water? Or even use it up and have to refill it?

I said it last episode, and I'll say it again: why did five people, a lemur, and a ten tonne sky bison travel into a desert famous for its desertiness with only a single water pouch between them? Admittedly, if they'd brought extra water and left it on Appa, they'd be having the same problem, but still...

Is a kids' show actually going to go there?

They actually went there!

Honestly if you're dying of dehydration in the desert, eating strange plants is absolutely the way to go. I'd rather trip my way into the afterlife than just shrivel up and die.

I love the way Aang's glider shadow moves over the dunes. Another one of those tiny details that the animators could have left out, but they didn't!

Sand benders must get crazy high speeds if Aang can't spot even a trace of Appa from up high. He wasn't Appa-napped very long ago.

Everyone go watch the scene where Aang blows up the mushroom cloud. Go right now I'll wait. And pay attention to Sokka's mouth. It does the wave.

His mouth does the wave and his arms do the worm. Someone really had fun this episode.

Zuko breaking the world record for highest number of Fire Nation wanted posters. Despite being the only person on that board who's unquestionably loyal to the Fire Nation. What a nice reward he got for his loyalty.

How is that one wrestler dude's hair so shiny?

Why, other than plot convenience, would Zuko and Iroh be at the Ice Spring?

I see now that the left hand shadow is Sokka with a Momo on his head. But for just a second I thought it was Ramona from Scott Pilgrim.

There are some really beautiful colour gradients in this desert.

"We won't survive without Appa." Well yes, but you have to try.

If this is a normal desert they're going to freeze their butts off overnight.

No comment. Just vibes.

Hey this is a Katara episode! Toph is blind, Sokka's zoinked, Aang's given up, so it's Katara time baby!

This episode has no business being this pretty.

"Sokka. I was there." I'd be very surprised if Katara's voice actress doesn't have an idiot older brother. That line was delivered a little too perfectly.

I'm not going to comment on every Sokka is high joke, but rest assured I'm finding them all hilarious.

Those drinks cost a gold piece each. Where did they get five gold pieces from?

Colour me shocked. The chuckleheads actually had a good idea for once.

Colour me shocked again! I vaguely predicted this!

Zuko. Honey. How are you this dim? He's so very good at missing exactly what's in front of him.

"Gold?"

Big muscles. No brains.

Very pretty. The sand texture is good too.

Well that was mean.

Passive aggressive glider deployment. Also how low is that cloud if Aang can reach it to bend it?

Aang is not shining this episode (understandably) but Katara is going from strength to strength. I NEVER would have thought that she was someone who could keep her cool under pressure like this. Happy to be wrong!

I have no idea if Sokka is going to remember or be aware of this epic trip he's on, but this is probably the best time he's had in months. Certainly since Yue died. He deserves this. Bad timing, but he needed a break.

"You must forgive my nephew. He is not an initiate, and is dumb as shit and incapable of reading the room."

Why is there a flower shop in the middle of the desert? What clients do they have? Obviously it's a front for this pai sho secret society thing, but why did they pick such a nonsensical front?

Toph has so much personality that it's easy to forget how tiny she is. Like a little gargoyle.

Sokka talking like a Greaser was the thing I didn't know I needed.

Poor Katara. Now you know how your brother feels every time he has to save your bacon from your weekly prison break.

I am losing my mind over these colours. Especially after The Library.

"I have a natural curiosity." I'm going to start using that.

Oops they found the circle bird nest.

Hey showrunners, you're going to take Momo from me too? You sure you want to do that? After last episode? Don't give me a pretty sunset with a latte swirl. Give me back Appa, put down Momo, or I'll sic Toph on you.

I do like Toph as a piece of artillery.

Turns out a combined Appa and Momo -napping is what it takes to get Aang to break his no killing rule. I now know how to defeat the Fire Lord.

The Audacity. Going to Ba-Sing- however the hell that's spelled. The sheer audacity. But then what? What's the plan after they get there? Just live the rest of their lives?

Rejected Mortal Combat guy.

You ever have one of those days where you do only your top lip?

Whoever made that door, and that lock - good job!

Nothing to see here, just making a delivery of two giant planters in the middle of the desert. The Owl decided to spruce up his entryway.

Y'all are fucked. Y'all deserve it. Aang has completely lost control. He's spent the whole episode losing it more and more and now he's gone completely off the rails. Has he ever zipped into the Avatar state that fast before?

Never underestimate the power of a woman who's fed up with everyone's nonsense. Just so fed up.

Well that was sad.

Badass name of the day: Malachi Throne, voice of a character whose name I don't recognise.

Final Thoughts

This was Katara's episode. I'm not going to forgive not getting Appa back, but Katara actually keeping a level head for once was an unexpected delight.

This episode was pretty unrelentingly heavy in the A-plot, which is why I don't understand why Sokka and Momo tripping worked so well. It did work, and I very much enjoyed it, but it should have stuck out like a sore thumb and it didn't. The beat up Sokka quota fulfillled from within by chemicals was a nice creative touch.

I am very happy to see Iroh take the wheel, although I'm not convinced there's a long term plan here beyond get food and shelter. Which, fair enough, goals tend to be short term and immediate when you're in dire straits.

This episode really stomped all over Aang. And then stomped some more. I was surprised how negative and shouty he was at the beginning, but by the end I was surprised how long it took him to lose it. Apart from his staff and his clothes, Appa really is all he has left from before he got frozen. That sandbender punk was rotten to the core.

So I guess we're going to the earth kingdom capital regardless of the eclipse information. Is the rest of the season going to be getting there? I also can't help but notice that it's where Iroh and Zuko are headed as well. Zuko could actively run in the direction opposite to the Avatar and he'd still end up tripping over him. The earth Kingdom is ginormous. And yet, like every two episodes Zuko runs into the Avatar. Is it fate? Is it plot convenience?

I should dislike this episode. It's 24 minutes of our faves getting beat down and not finding Appa, with a b-plot of Zuko being more oblivious than usual. I should dislike it, but I don't. This is definitely going on the rewatch list. It was a very pretty episode, which helped. Beyond that I can't put into words why I liked it, but I did!

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #The Desert #Dessert?#Desert is one of the words where the longer you stare at it the less it's a word #Like Sausage #Sew-sahhj

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frenchkisstheabyss · 8 months

Text

| Pairing | husband!felix x chubby!fem!reader

| Genre | fluff & smut but make it apocalyptic

| Summary | A rouge planet's headed into our solar system, charting a course toward Earth with an 80% chance of collision. As the end grows near you indulge in a few final precious moments of intimacy with your husband.

| Word Count | 1.1kish

| Warnings | unprotected sex but, like, honey it's the apocalypse. a possibility of utter extinction...maybe. the ending is ambiguous because I'm a softie, sue me.

| A/N | I happen to be a retro sci-fi flick nerd, a K-pop nerd, and a hopeless romantic so this is how it manifested. As always, I hope you guys enjoy it 🖤

Extending your arm straight out in front of you, you flex the muscles in your hand. Wiggle your fingers in the ultraviolet wisps that drift through the air and make your wedding ring look like a tiny galaxy, a precious diamond sprinkled with stardust. The Earth is tinted a weathered blue and so are you.

So are the flowers that hug your bare feet as you stand in the back garden of your summer cabin. So are the tomatoes. The radishes. The carrots. The peppers. You can’t help but wonder if this is how the fish at the aquarium feel. Trapped in a blue gradient prison with nowhere to run, haunted by the knowledge that, no matter where things began, this is where it ends.

Your husband quietly approaches your side, twirling a daisy plucked from a nearby field between his fingers. He brings his arm around your waist, gently caressing the plush of your side. You exhale the breath that’s been trapped inside your chest, your body soothed by his touch even on the brink of the apocalypse. Felix tucks the flower behind your ear. It’s blue too. Like him. Like you.

Only it seems to glow and so does he but that’s the way it’s always been. Long before a rogue planet, starless and orphaned, came hurling into our solar system Felix glowed and everything he touched did too. Including you. “How much time left?” you ask, losing yourself in the longing of his gaze. The tips of his fingers delight in the softness of your skin as he cradles your cheek, “With you? Never enough.”

Felix smiles, oh, that smile, and the corners of your mouth curve to mirror his. A moment of serenity, of normalcy, precious but fleeting. In the distance lightning strikes like you’ve never seen it before. Chased by a fierce rumbling in the clouds, it makes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Felix clasps your face, grounding you as he kisses you with every bit of love within him.

If this is it, the last moment that he gets with the woman at the very center of his universe, he has to spend it with his lips pressed to yours. His tongue swirls around yours, penning every love letter not yet written on the inside of your cheeks. Lightning strikes again but this time you don’t see that sharp white light crackle through the sky. You don't hear the foreboding rumbling of the sky. Falling deeper under his spell, you’re numb to everything but him.

“Felix” you whisper, your breath chilling the thin layer of moisture on his bottom lip, “Could you do something for me?” “Anything,” he says, meaning it more than you know. “Make love to me…here…like the first time. I just…” He pulls you back into the kiss, cutting your explanation short. There’s no need to explain or to appeal to him. He remembers, exactly as you do, the first weekend he brought you here. How special it was.

You’d been together for a month then, not even official. Felix never invited anyone out to the cabin with him. Tucked away in the heart of a picturesque forest with no neighbors for miles, this was his quiet place but it never felt utopian until you came. The garden had been your idea and it was here, together beneath the rising sun, that you made love for the first time. How serendipitous that it should be your last.

By the time your body’s nestled in the lush grass, you’ve plucked each other’s clothes away like the petals of a flower, leaving them sprinkled around the garden. Seeing you stare up at him, your gloriously curved body bare for him, has him reciting quiet prayers that he has enough time to indulge in every bit of you. For Felix, it’s not about the end. Not about chasing some high or crossing a finish line.

It’s about the gasp you just took when he kissed your neck, nibbling at it with just the right amount of pressure. It’s about the way you grip his hair at the root when his tongue traces your collarbone, massaging his scalp as his mouth meets your pillowy breasts, his tongue twining around your delicate buds. “I love you” he repeats, his professions muffled by hungry mouthfuls of your breasts. But you hear him. You feel him.

Kneading the squish of your belly. Parting your thighs. Swiping his fingers between the silky lips of your pussy. Rolling your clit beneath his thumb. You feel all of it. “I love you too. I love you. Ah…” you whine, something shifting in the air as two fingers ease into you, twisting and curling in response to every faint quivering of your walls. Craving the taste of you, he dips his head between your thighs, drinking the nectar that trickles from you like a stream, making him salivate as the flavor awakens his taste buds.

The rush of euphoria that washes over your body is unyielding, intensifying with each flick of his tongue and bend of his wrist. The world around you is quieter than before, the angelic sounds spilling from your lips the only thing Felix can hear. The only thing he cares to hear. A particularly desperate whine signals to him that the tension within you is ready to snap. “Mmm, not yet” he hums, licking his way up your body, leaving a trail of your juices behind.

Just enough remains that when your mouth parts to welcome him, you can still taste yourself on his tongue. “Felix!” you cry out, the nearly undetectable vibration of the ground coinciding with his length thrusting into you. For a moment, he doesn’t move, he just stays still, basking in the moment, throbbing as you squirm around him.

One of the starry ultraviolet wisps floats into your line of vision. You watch it pass with a strange sense of wonder. “I guess it’s like you always said,” Felix says, his hips rocking back and forth, driving you further and further toward your high with maddening intensity, “You and me to the end of the world.” You nod, the calmness of his voice bringing a certain peace to your mind, “To the end of the world.”

An 80% chance of collision. What that’d do to the human psyche no one could’ve predicted. Somewhere out there cities are crumbling. Lovers are becoming enemies and enemies are becoming lovers. People are bargaining with their gods or cursing them. The world is unraveling. And you?

Well, in your own way, you are too, your back arching and your eyes falling closed as you’re pushed beyond your limits, endorphins flooding your bloodstream. “To the end” he whispers, his arms around you once more, your face buried in his chest.

To the end…

The end…

The End?

#lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #lee felix x y/n #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #lee felix fluff #lee felix smut #plus size reader #chubby reader

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wpk12art · 1 month

Note

Hello Wilma Ive had the question on what was your inspiration for Halina and was there a early version of her att some point??

I have answered this on a WHIIIIILE BACK but I love telling this story uwu

I based Halina off my own cat I had when I was a child, Tussan, she was a queen over our area we lived in. Very serious yet soft with me, calculating as she scared the other cats here. She got in fights and won them, not really that she started them in the first place xD even giving one cat a scratch.

When I started designing Halina, I did one initial sketch as a start, then I started making her design a bit recognizable to the eye sort of, or to pay more attention to well, her FACE that would be the biggest focal point.

This is the first ever sketch i did of Halina, I put some short notes on the side as usual for later that became the main point in her story.

She was originally supposed to be 30 but I bumped it down to 29. Her marks around her eyes weren't as prominent as they are now, and her eyebrows weren't as sharp as I make them out to be now.

And here's some more sketches I made out of her to make her more akin to the animation. Her tail was very thin, and her eyes started getting that signature dark line underneath with the lighter pattern ontop. Her ears weren't as prominent either, and her hair wasn't as "on point" you could say.

And also, her eyes, i couldn't choose between having them yellow or green, So. I did the gradient instead that has proven to be one of my favorite choices in her design as her eyes are the most prominent in her design but also most interesting to play with in different lights.

And after some more tweaking, I made this design that everyone by now knows and loves.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy oc #oc #halina #art #halina dabrowska #marigold

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p1-f1 · 8 months

Text

Hot Day

Kenny McCormick x AFAB reader

Warnings : Mentions of boobs, not proofread.

WC : 700

Authors notes : Heyo!! I’m still tryna adjust to school and stuff yk? So here’s a small little thing I was thinking of putting out a while back. I might redo this with Kyle or Stan, I’m not sure just yet.

The sweat beads on your forehead rolled, sliding down the bridge of your nose as the suns rays spilled onto you. Your boyfriend lay next to you, still in his ugly orange parka that he’d had for years and still, after seven years, refused to throw out.

You didn't understand it. It was, what, eighty degrees outside? And yet he didn't take the long sleeves off. But you could tell he was hot. Every few seconds he'd take his eyes off of your chest he'd sip his water bottle, sweating and panting like a dog.

Other than Kenny torturing himself with a parka, you, on the other hand, stripped down to your underclothes. It was innocent. No dirty meaning or intention to do anything afterward. Obviously, Kenny had other plans, but you were already sweating.

Both yours and his limbs were sprawled out on the small mattress, Kenny halfway off of the twin sized mat so you could have room. ( little did you know, the floor was much cooler )

“Do you think that if Issac Newton got hit with a mango instead of an apple the earth would be completely different?” You asked, mind fuzzy from the summer heat, and it was starting to show.

“Issac who?” Your dog-like boyfriend responded, he had complained before about having to remember too many names in his US history class.

“Never mind, baby.” You simple muttered, hearing shuffling from the blondes side of the bed.

When you looked over, you saw him sitting up, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. But instead of that stupid orange on his skin, it was that nice tan he had gotten from being outside twenty-four seven.

Kenny wasn’t muscular, no, but he wasn’t completely lanky. He may not eat at home, but during school hours, it’s the lunch you buy for him, half of yours, and whatever add on you buy as well. He was lanky, sure, but there’s a decent amount of meat on his bones and an outline of what you think might be a slight six pack but may just be scars.

Freckles went from his shoulders to wrists, clearing up at the end, reminding you of Kyles. Kenny was handsome, but much more pretty than most men you’ve met. He had thick eyelashes, pink cheeks that looked as soft as a cloud, a tooth gap between the teeth you oh so loved when they formed upward to a smile. Blue eyes you could get lost in that you swore were purple just yesterday.

“Princess?” Kenny’s not so muffled anymore voice rang through your ears, alerting you out of your trance. “Am I that handsome, darlin’?”

You always had admired the slight southern accent that decided to show on the nicknames that made you melt.

“More pretty. Beautiful, even.” All of a sudden it made sense why he was chosen to play the princess in those dumb games he used to play with his friends in fourth grade.

“Is that so?” His slightly scratchy and deep voice chuckled, looking down at your head that lay next to his right thigh.

“You’re beautiful as well, love.” There it was again. That smile. That smile that could light up a room, make your day, week, hell, year.

Kenny stroked your hair, the both of you watching the sun slowly set, making a gradient of red, yellow, and blue in the sky. It was getting darker, which meant it was getting colder. To Kenny, all this meant was you two could cuddle.

So, obviously, you felt arms snake around your waist and two big wet lips give you a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Love you so much. My princess.” He muttered into your cheek, pulling you into his lap by your hips and waist.

“So beautiful, so gorgeous.” The blonde smiles, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. It was your turn, as you ran your hair through his greasy homemade wolf cut.

“Love you too.” You mumbled back, looking up at him.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, just a peck. Which made you forget about everything around you. Including the heat just minutes prior.

#kenny mccormick x reader #South Park x reader #pifi writes

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ashtxeman · 2 months

Text

WHY I LIKE GLASS JOE A LOT

I promised a lot of information about why I like Glass Joe so I wrote this in an hour with no plan, no proof reading, completely improvised. If I planned this it would probably be WAY longer lol but I'll spare you all the pain of that. SO. ENJOY MY REASONING.

Glass Joe. Glass Joseph. Fragile Joey. It’s a name that’s been uttered for centuries in many different forms, given many different explanations. Critics, theorists, philosophers alike have carved away at their lives trying to solve the answer to the universe's greatest question. And that is:

Glass Joe, good why?

I can answer that, absolutely.

HEY I LOVE GLASS JOE A LOT IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW THAT ALREADY JUST GOTTA ESTABLISH THAT HAHAHA OKAY LETS GO. SHOUTOUT TO THE FUCKING RTGAME PUNCHOUT VIDEO YOU DID THIS TO ME.

POINT 1: HE IS HANDSOME.

I swear to God this man was hand-crafted by the hands of an incomprehensible deity because HOW is he this flawless. He’s 5’10, great height honestly I’m 5’3 I don’t want to be dating a skyscraper you know. He’s a skinny bastard but that’s okay, more on that later. His hair, oh my goodness gracious, lord above, help me Jesus. HIS HAIR. IS SO GOOD. If you put that skateboard ramp ass hairstyle on literally any other character they would look like a dumbass, but here, on this man alone, it’s the most delicately poised series of ginger strands I ever did see.

His hair looks SO soft. It’s unbelievable. It’s such a lovely shade of auburn with hints of burgundy. It must smell like cinnamon. He must take great care of it. A real Head and Shoulders, coconut oil, double wash kinda guy. A real bougie kinda guy. Yeah he’s not great physically in SPORT terms but in PUBLIC terms he’s absolutely stunning and stronger than anybody else. I wanna run my fingers through his silky locks so bad it’s insane and to understand this desire I’ll have to be strapped down and operated on. DONATE MY BRAIN TO SCIENCE GO AHEAD. THEY NEED IT.

Not to mention it is SO fun to draw. SO SO SO FUN. Maybe I’m just lucky it’s such a wacky and dynamic hairstyle it transfers quite well into my artstyle, but it’s so fun. It’s easy, it’s fast, it creates an absolutely iconic silhouette, I love colouring it because it’s so damn pretty and ginger/red is such a broad colour scheme that can be put into a gradient so well (i love doing gradients with hair cause i hate when its just a block of colour). Nobody could understand the sheer joy i get putting that dumbass ahoge between the bridge of his fringe and the rest of his hair. That little ‘ right at the top ITS SO FUN. i love him his hair is great.

His face. Carved like the works of the finest artest. He’s a canvas of quality that can rival Van Gogh, for god sake. He’s got the jawline of a man on a lifelong mewing streak, STOP IT HE’S SO GORGEOUS I CANT EVENNNN. He is seriously so good looking. His eyes, the little pink-tinted eyebags that show he doesn’t need sleep because he’s so hardcore on caffeine, his gorgeous big ol nose i wanna kiss so bad, his super dynamic chin i wanna kiss so bad, his face i wanna kiss so bad. I wanna kiss him so bad. He is genuinely such a beautiful man its stunning, im literally a lesbian but if they somehow brought glass joe into the real world looking exactly how he does in those GOD DAMN CUTSCENES OOOOO i’d be bisexual so fast it’s crazy. He’s just that great. He’s got that power. I love his nervous little grin and the little creases on his face, cause he’s OLD AND SENILE. He’s 38 for god sake he shouldn’t look this good and sure, you can see his age slipping in a little with the eyebags and the wrinkles but that only ADDS to how stupidly divine he is in appearance. Stop that handsome man officer!! He’s breaking the laws of BEAUTY. GIVE IT TO MEEEEE. MEEEE.

His fashion sense although odd (ive never actually seen anyone wearing red trousers) just works. It wouldnt work on anyone else but it works on HIM. this is a theme. THINGS DONT WORK ON OTHER PEOPLE BUT THEY WORK ON JOE HE’S SO COOL LIKE THAT. his turtleneck kills me its so good it highlights what little figure he has and it contrasts his red hair so well cause its a really deep blue. SIGH. i wish. I have a turtleneck thats exactly the same but let me tell you i dont even breath the same air of fashion that he breathes. He’s so far ahead of the game he’s on an entirely different runway. He is not gonna sashay away anytime soon. On a constant shante. Unstoppable.

POINT 2: HE EMBODIES HIS CULTURE WELL.

Cats out of the bag, joe is a french stereotype. But. and dont quote me here. I find it very admirable HOW he is a french stereotype. Because he kind of.. Isn’t? He uses the characteristics of that stereotype sure, but he doesn’t engage with them the same way an actual french stereotype would. He likes coffee, he likes bread, he loves France like its his child, sure. But he doesnt have a twirly moustache, he doesnt wear a beret, he doesnt galavant around in black and white mime clothing. Even if that would be funny yknow it just wouldnt be as good.

His admiration of coffee and bread is so relatable cause hell, I LIKE BREAD AND CAFES AND STUFF! He needs that coffee to keep him going you dont understand. If he misses a dose of caffeine he’ll deflate like the pyramids did in despicable me 1. He’ll be a puddle on the floor, he’ll quite literally cease to exist. Coffee is his golden idol, his hand of midas, his treasure. He has great willpower (more on that later) but coffee is that secret weapon he uses to push him just a little bit further. Plus he just thinks it tastes good and is happy to express that, you cant blame the guy for that. A good drink is a good drink. Even though i dont like coffee he’s so happy with it i respect it. He makes things i dont like respectable. Thats whats so real to me. What a goat. As for bread, bread is just great. Baguettes are yum. All the french bread i know about is usually close to white bread and autism behold thats like the only bread i can bear to eat so its alright with me man. You can go to joes house and he will have one of those fancy bread cupboards. He’ll pull out baguettes like he’s at a renaissance fair and they have a sword shortage. He’s on the case. You will NOT leave his house on an empty stomach. Like a very caring grandma, he will get you fed with the most immaculate 5 star meal you ever did eat. French food is great and theres no doubt about that, thats why he loves FOOD. I TRUST HIM. HE KNOWS WHATS GOOD. if mr glass joe turned around to me and said ‘broken glass is good food’ you bet your ass id be smashing windows and munch munch crunching all day long.

Maybe his admiration of his country is a little over the top to some. You know the french landmarks in the back of his cutscenes, the ‘vive le france’ and singing the national anthem. But no. i dont think its excessive, i think its passionate. This is undeniably a man that is SO passionate about his culture and the lifestyle he’s grown up around, he’s not afraid to express it to other people until they cant stand it anymore. He’ll take as many hits as he needs to in the name of france. He is an embodiment of everything endearing about being foreign, honestly. An extreme love for the things his country has: food, landmarks, fashion, language, culture. EVERYTHING IS ON HIS LIST. NOTHING IS LEFT OUT. HE LOVES FRANCE AND I LOVE HIM. YES SIR!! VIVE LE FRANCE!! YES!!!

Also he single-handedly convinced me to start learning french. I seriously didnt care about it before but after i started to like him more and really get into punchout i downloaded duolingo and i still have a streak going AND im actually convinced to try hard in my french lessons and exams because yknow.. I want this fictional french guy to be proud of me. :]

POINT 3: HE IS DETERMINED.

OHHHHHH BOY. okay right im gonna get inspirational here. Play some dramatic orchestral music or something.

The thing about Glass Joe is that he never. Gives up. Never. There is nothing in the world you could do to this man that could possibly stop him from boxing. They call Kaiser a fighting machine but boy have they not seen Joe. once that man stepped into the ring for the first time, he’d found a second home, and i think thats evident. 100 times this man has fallen down, brushed it off and gotten right back up. He’s had hardships, ups, downs, tumbles, falls. But everytime, no matter what, he’s back on his feet and ready to try again. And there is something so admirable and inspirational about that kind of approach being written into a CHARACTER THAT IS MEANT TO BE A FRENCH STEREOTYPE. ‘GHHHH FRENCH PEOPLE ALWAYS SURRENDER ACSHUALLY’ SHUT UP!! NOT THIS ONE!! I like to think Joe’s motto is ‘never surrender’. Yes he’s a little self aware how ironic it is thats hes french and doing all this but shhh. He knows whats hes doing and he’s happy to do it. Because like ive said again and again, theres nothing that can stop him. 100 kos, 200 kos, 300, 400… you keep cranking that number up and he’ll keep cranking the punches. Keep those lights up, keep those gloves on, you knock Joe down and eventually, no matter how long it takes, he’s back for more.

Now dont misinterpret that, he’s not a masochist like aran ryan, no sir-ee. He doesnt enjoy losing, nobody does. But the thing is he pushes past that disappointment and those hardships because he knows that eventually, if he keeps on going, things are going to change. He knows that if he lays down the gloves and walks away, there’s no possibility of succeeding. You could drop Joe off on the other side of the world and just like that immortal snail, he’s gonna find a way back. Even if it takes forever. Cause he is weak but determined, he isn’t threatening but relentless, he is stoppable but unstoppable. Glass joe has the strongest will out of any character i know. Cause if any of my other favourites went through 100 whopping losses like he did, they’d retire on a tropical island and never interact with the world again. But not joe. Never joe. My king.

POINT 4: HE IS ENDEARING.

THIS GUY IS SO DAMN CHARMING IT MAKES ME WANT TO EXPLODE INTO CONFETTI AND GLITTER AGHHHHH.

Come on. How can you look at his smile, his lovely little, subtle smile with those shy old eyes, and not immediately fall in love with him. He’s got some many little subtle things. Like the way his pupils dart around or his little sway back and forth when he’s knocked out or the way he bounds back and forth on his legs like an old-timey guy about to have a squabble. The way his mouth goes :0 so very subtly when he’s breathing. The way he always looks either shocked beyond repair, completely zooted or very confused. It’s all so perfect. IT’S ALL THESE THINGS THEY MAKE HIM BRILLIANT.

Im seriously looking for scraps here but i love finding meaning in otherwise meaningless things. I love analysing every detail until there is literally nothing else i could possibly say about it. He is perfect for this.

His fucking VOICE. OHHH MY GOD. it was so damn funny the very first time i heard his voice, because honestly it feels deliberate how they put his humble cutscenes before his first bit of dialogue so you expect this soft-spoken kinda light-voiced french guy only to be greeted with CHRISTIAN BERNARD’S DEEP ASS VOICE. OHHH KILL ME HE SOUNDS SO HANDSOME I WANNA SINK INTO THE FLOOR AND CRY WITH JOY. i wouldnt even mind if he was a soft-spoken light-voiced french guy but they really had to amp it up a little and give this lowly frenchman the most eloquent unnecessarily deep and silky voice ever. HE DIDNT NEED THAT. BUT THANK YOU FOR GIVING HIM THAT NINTENDO CAUSE ITS ONE OF HIS GREATEST QUALITIES. Plus french is just a really fun language to listen to. I could honestly sit listening to joe’s voicelines on repeat for hours on end and be fine with it. They’re so good. He’s so beautiful sounding. Its absolutely hilarious considering his voice in comparison to appearance. COME ON!!! AAHAHHGGHGHGHGHGHGHGHAGHGHS I LOVE CHRISTIAN BERNARDS VOICE I WISH I COULD HEAR HIM SPEAK IN ENGLISH. I NEED MORE OF HIS VOICE. AGGGGGHHHHH.

POINT 5: WHATEVER ELSE

I erm i erm i just wanna say i love joe so much. The way he’s constructed, appearance, personality, physicality, dialogue, culture inspiration, story. EVERYTHING about him is just so cool and fun to think about and in my head it all weaves perfectly together to create the best character in all of fiction. It has now been over 2 unapologetic years of me yapping on about this guy. Whether it be his canon self and the things he does or the fanon version of him thats ive sourced from other peoples awesome HC’s or forged from my own lore. Any excuse i get, i talk about joe. Because it is so utterly fun. Yeah, he’s not the only boxer i love!!! Not at all!! I have several other favourites persay, but on the punch-out tier list joe is so good he has his own category thats about 4 ranks higher than what S rank is. And that is deserved.

He loves his culture, he never gives up, he’s arguably a weakling and an absolute screwup but he never lets that get in his way because of her persistent he is, he’s gorgeous, he’s cool, he’d be a great friend, dad, boyfriend, husband, EVERYTHING. He’s got a weird hairstyle and weird fashion sense but somehow he looks great with it. He beat NICK BRUISER CANONICALLY?!?! He’s french, he’s ginger, which in a joking sense makes him the worst but against all odds he is the best. The french are lucky to be represented by him because he’s so utterly and unapologetically awesome and cool and fun and nice and inspiring and all that jazz. There is not a single thing that could stray me away from the path of Joe. my lore for him is SO deep. My admiration for him is INFINITE. Ive read through his wiki a pagillion times. Ive beaten him over 80 times in-game simple because i like seeing him so much and.

Well. i have entire shrine dedicated to him. let me know if you wanna see that....

#punch out wii #punch out #glass joe

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