#tool for learning gap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wheresarizona · 1 month

Text

but I would die for you in secret

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 7.1k+

a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.

To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.

Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.

So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.

Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.

If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.

You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.

There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.

It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.

Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.

That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.

It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.

Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.

Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.

The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.

The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.

And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.

It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.

Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.

For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”

“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.

There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.

“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.

You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.

“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.

“No-none,” you stammer.

His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”

His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.

His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.

Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”

Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.

Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.

“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”

The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”

“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.

“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”

He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.

It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.

The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.

You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”

His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”

You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.

Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.

“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.

“Yes.”

The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”

“Yes,” you moan.

He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.

The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.

He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”

His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.

His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.

You’re so close; you’re just needing—

Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”

That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.

A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.

It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.

Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”

His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?

He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.

All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.

His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.

When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.

Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.

He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”

The question has your tight walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.

The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”

“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”

He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.

The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.

For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.

It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.

Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.

“Joel?” you break the silence.

“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”

His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.

“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.

You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”

His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”

“Well, there’s Ellie—”

“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have feelings for me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love me…?”

“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.

One word has your heart picking up in speed.

“I love you, too.”

His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.

“What?” he asks.

“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”

A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.

“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”

His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”

Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”

He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.

This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.

“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What?”

“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”

His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.

“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”

“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”

He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”

Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.

“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”

“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”

Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”

“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.

“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”

“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.

You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”

“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.

“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”

“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”

“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”

You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.

“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.

“I do,” you reply.

“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.

“‘Cause no one else can?”

He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.

His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”

And something about that declaration thrills you.

“I’d like that.”

He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”

You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.

The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.

All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.

If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.

From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.

Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:

It was time for him to tell Ellie.

Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.

If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.

He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.

He hates that.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.

When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.

He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.

The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.

It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.

It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.

His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.

“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.

“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.

“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”

He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”

She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I asked you first.”

She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.

“I was at the same place you were.”

He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.

He meets her eyes. “And that is?”

She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”

“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”

“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.

“You done?”

“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”

His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”

“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”

“Were we really that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”

“What topic?”

“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”

He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”

She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”

“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”

His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”

“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”

“You’re what?!”

Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #wheresarizona writes #joel miller x you #Joel miller/yo

3K notes · View notes

nasa · 3 months

Text

Sharpening Our View of Climate Change with the Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem Satellite

As our planet warms, Earth’s ocean and atmosphere are changing.

Climate change has a lot of impact on the ocean, from sea level rise to marine heat waves to a loss of biodiversity. Meanwhile, greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide continue to warm our atmosphere.

NASA’s upcoming satellite, PACE, is soon to be on the case!

Set to launch on Feb. 6, 2024, the Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem (PACE) mission will help us better understand the complex systems driving the global changes that come with a warming climate.

Earth’s ocean is becoming greener due to climate change. PACE will see the ocean in more hues than ever before.

While a single phytoplankton typically can’t be seen with the naked eye, communities of trillions of phytoplankton, called blooms, can be seen from space. Blooms often take on a greenish tinge due to the pigments that phytoplankton (similar to plants on land) use to make energy through photosynthesis.

In a 2023 study, scientists found that portions of the ocean had turned greener because there were more chlorophyll-carrying phytoplankton. PACE has a hyperspectral sensor, the Ocean Color Instrument (OCI), that will be able to discern subtle shifts in hue. This will allow scientists to monitor changes in phytoplankton communities and ocean health overall due to climate change.

Phytoplankton play a key role in helping the ocean absorb carbon from the atmosphere. PACE will identify different phytoplankton species from space.

With PACE, scientists will be able to tell what phytoplankton communities are present – from space! Before, this could only be done by analyzing a sample of seawater.

Telling “who’s who” in a phytoplankton bloom is key because different phytoplankton play vastly different roles in aquatic ecosystems. They can fuel the food chain and draw down carbon dioxide from the atmosphere to photosynthesize. Some phytoplankton populations capture carbon as they die and sink to the deep ocean; others release the gas back into the atmosphere as they decay near the surface.

Studying these teeny tiny critters from space will help scientists learn how and where phytoplankton are affected by climate change, and how changes in these communities may affect other creatures and ocean ecosystems.

Climate models are one of our most powerful tools to understand how Earth is changing. PACE data will improve the data these models rely on.

The PACE mission will offer important insights on airborne particles of sea salt, smoke, human-made pollutants, and dust – collectively called aerosols – by observing how they interact with light.

With two instruments called polarimeters, SPEXone and HARP2, PACE will allow scientists to measure the size, composition, and abundance of these microscopic particles in our atmosphere. This information is crucial to figuring out how climate and air quality are changing.

PACE data will help scientists answer key climate questions, like how aerosols affect cloud formation or how ice clouds and liquid clouds differ.

It will also enable scientists to examine one of the trickiest components of climate change to model: how clouds and aerosols interact. Once PACE is operational, scientists can replace the estimates currently used to fill data gaps in climate models with measurements from the new satellite.

With a view of the whole planet every two days, PACE will track both microscopic organisms in the ocean and microscopic particles in the atmosphere. PACE’s unique view will help us learn more about the ways climate change is impacting our planet’s ocean and atmosphere.

Stay up to date on the NASA PACE blog, and make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of sPACE!

#NASA #Earth #climate #climate change #PACE #ocean #atmosphere #global warming #science #planet

1K notes · View notes

sadesluvr · 6 months

Text

Doctor's Orders - S. Raglan x Reader x M. Schmidt

You and Mike are having intimacy issues, and Dr Raglan is the best couples therapist in town.

A/N: Pure filth and nothing more. This might be the dirtiest fic I've ever made...Minors DNI

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: Threesomes / Cuckolding / Dom + Sub dynamics / Age gaps – Steve is in his 50’s, Reader and Mike are in their mid 20s / Hints of manipulation / Abuse of power / Oral sex, fem and male receiving / Breeding / Humiliation / Overstimulation / Sex rivalry / Unprotected sex / Dirty talk

Dr Raglan was a renowned couples therapist in your town, which was why you were so eager to see him with your boyfriend Mike. Even though you’d been together for a while, when it came to sex you’d found that he had trouble staying ‘up’, and even reaching orgasm. He insisted it wasn’t you, but the egotistical part of you worried that you weren’t enough.

Still, you would’ve never guessed that, upon hearing your issues, the doctor would’ve been gracious to extend the session by another hour, free of charge. It slightly worried you that your issues were apparently that bad, but you took it anyway.

“I like you two,” Steve said. “A lot, actually. I’m very happy to help you out,”

He wasn’t lying. He’d been lusting over you for the whole session, his cock growing hard at how desperate you were to get through to Mike, even willing to do the work on your part. You were such a sweet, attentive little girlfriend, and yet Mike seemed like a total loser. Utterly powerless.

The pair of you were still sitting down as he got up, walking around to stand behind you and place his large hands on your shoulders. He smirked as Mike looked at him, ready to argue, whilst you seemed uncomfortable.

“I’m going to use Y/N here as an example,” he said, instructing you to stand up. He didn’t even bother to ask for your permission - you were nothing but a toy. A toy and a tool to be fucked. It was going to help your issues, after all.

You stood up, and he cupped a finger under your chin so that you looked into his eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“Strip,” he said, and your eyes grew wide.

“Y/N, don’t —“ Mike interjected, sticking out a hand defensively, but Steve stopped him.

“That’s your problem, Mike. Stop trying to be the hero,” he said forcefully. You hesitated before squeezing Michael’s hand and beginning to undress. You loved Mike more than anything, and wanted to move towards the next stage of your relationship.

Mr Raglan knew best.

As you undressed, you noticed a visible bulge in Steve’s pants, and Mike, though quiet, seemed to be developing one too, but hid it with his hands. Their eyes were filled with lust, and Dr Raglan seemed to hum with approval as he took in your semi-nude body as you assumed your position on top of his desk.

You were undressed all for him; naive and exposed to what was about to come.

He was ready to fucking consume you.

But he had to be professional.

“You see, your intimacy problem has nothing to do with her, and everything with you,” he said, pointing at Mike. “She’s such a cute little thing with a body just begging bred. Any man would be lucky to have her…And yet you can’t appreciate something good. Why is that?”

Steve smirked as he saw your legs twitch at the mention of breeding, and he looked between the pair of you knowingly. Mike seemed unresponsive, whilst you were like a deer in headlights.

“You’re building it up too much. You keep thinking things are going to be mind-blowing, and that you’re going to be the best she’s ever had, but in actuality it’ll probably be average. You need to learn to live with being disempowered,”

You glanced over worriedly at Mike. Perhaps the loss of his brother was the root of the deeper issue?

“Has he touched you here?” Steve said, his large hands reaching to massage your breasts. His hands were cold whilst your chest was warm, causing your nipples to harden against his touch. The older man chuckled, rolling the bud against his fingers before he tugged them, showing them off to your boyfriend. He’d barely done anything, and you were responding to him so well.

“Y-Yes…”

“Do you usually get turned on so quickly?”

“I’m not—“ you protested, trying to ignore the growing heat between your thighs. “—It’s just because your hands are cold,”

“Sure. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said mockingly. “How about you have your boyfriend come warm you up?”

You looked over pleadingly at Michael and he obliged, getting up to place his hand on your other breast, but not without giving Dr Raglan a side eye, to which the older man brushed off. You stared up at them with glassy eyes as they fondled your breasts, with Mike’s touch more gentle compared to Steve’s pawing. You weren’t oblivious to Raglan’s now hardened bulge either, as he pressed his groin into the bare skin of your knee, teasing you with what was to come.

“Doesn’t look like you’re doing a good job there, Mike,” he said matter of factly. “Unsurprising, considering everything I know about you. Let me show you how to take care of business,”

His bigger frame pushed Mike to the side, and you could see him clench his fists in frustration. Steve stared down at you hungrily, one of his hands sliding past your breast to grab the base of your neck; squeezing it ever so slightly as his other hand made its way to your panties. He spread your legs so that you were on display, his thick fingers rubbing against your slit through the material.

“I bet I can make her cum just from my hands…” he said, staring down at Mike who remained in his seat. As much as he hated watching a perverted older man like Raglan touch you, part of him was actually enjoying it. He knew you were hot, and to see someone making you feel as sexy and liberated as you deserved made him feel good in turn. Perhaps the Doctor was right - he needed to be comfortable feeling powerless.

“You said you’ve tried oral sex, correct?” Steve said, clearing his throat. You looked up at him and nodded shyly, and he tutted.

“I want you to say it,” he insisted, briefly removing his hands from your panties. “Tell me what you do to him,”

“Um —“ you said, flustered from the sudden loss of pressure. “I touch him through his pants first. He’s usually hard then, so I take it out — I don’t suck him off immediately, I like to keep it going with my hands…”

Steve began to unbuckle his belt before pulling down his zipper and taking out his cock through the hole, beginning to stroke it lazily as you droned on about trying to please your boyfriend. He was aching to see you in all the degrading positions you’d put yourself in for Mike’s benefit (to no success), even more so at the prospect of being in front of him.

“Show me,” Steve groaned, positioning his cock towards your face. “Give me everything you’ve been craving,”

You abided by his words and stroked him, moaning as he resumed his motions on top of your panties. He was bigger than Mike, and you could feel him throb in your hands with every tug, desperate to penetrate your lips. You remained like this for a moment before the older man pushed your panties to the side, the cool hair sending shivers down your hot cunt. Steve greedily pushed two of his lithe fingers inside of you, grunting at the sensation as he felt the insides of your thigh on his arms, grazing his hairs ever so slightly.

“She’s fucking dripping,” he laughed, staring Mike in the eye. “She feels so good down here. I wonder how her mouth feels —“ he stated, and angled your head around his cock. You took it in your mouth instinctively, eyes widening in shock as he hit the back of your throat unexpectedly. Steve was almost completely feral; wasting no time in thrusting deeper into your mouth whilst his fingers explored your fold, making sure to rub your clit.

“—Like heaven,” he purred, and it was as if something deeper had arisen within him. “Don’t be shy Mike. You should get in on this,” he teased, giving the younger man all but two seconds before focusing back onto you. You were mewling and writhing under his power, and if he were a teenager he probably would’ve cum right there and then. Luckily for him, he was a man now.

Mike obeyed, and quietly made his way between your legs, watching in awe at the way your juices coated the man’s fingers. It looked heavenly; and it killed him to think he was missing out. All he ever wanted to do was please you.

He unzipped his trousers, freeing his cock so that he could touch himself. He inched towards your spread pussy, one hand on his cock and the other keeping your panties out of the way and practically dived in, eagerly lapping at your folds, causing Steve to hum in amusement.

The sensation was painfully overwhelming, with Steve’s fingers now rubbing at your hood, and Mike’s lips licking and sucking on your insides. It was beyond pornographic, and you wondered whether this was genuinely helpful or just a self-serving ruse.

“Ugh,” you moaned, and pushed Mike’s head deeper into you, prompting yet another reaction from Steve.

“Seems like he can do something well, hm? I suppose this is the part where everything goes to shit?”

“For your information, I never said I couldn’t make her cum,” Mike snapped, staring daggers into Steve as he momentarily drew himself away from your cunt.

“I’ll admit –” he began, stopping to groan as he began thrusting faster into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing around his cock and nose repeatedly making contact with his pants, “--That’s impressive, but it’s child’s play. You’re a child, Mike. She needs a real man…”

Even though it was wrong, your pussy twitched around Mike as the pair bickered; using your body like a ragdoll. You weren’t a person to them, but a vessel, and it was sparking something within Mike that you hadn’t seen, licking along your folds and up towards your clit, flicking his tongue upon the nub as two fingers pumped into you. All he’d needed was a bit of ‘friendly’ competition.

“Mike —” you whimpered against Steve’s cock. “I’m gonna —”

“Get off her, Mike,” Steve commanded, and the younger man obeyed, his frustration growing deeper. The Dr drew himself from your face, leaving a trail of spit against your swollen lips.

“That’s not how this is going to go –” he stated, guiding your body so that you were spread flat on top of his desk, your legs dangling off of the sides. Steve towered above you, and even though Mike was in the room you felt like a shrew underneath his predatory gaze, waiting to be devoured. You stared up at him with wide eyes, and you almost came as he smiled down at you, a large, calloused hand rubbing along the sides of your body, spreading your cunt effortlessly with two fingers and admiring the mess you’d made.

“--I’m gonna fuck her, and you’re gonna watch. Got it?” he said forcefully, staring Mike down. “Don’t try to save her, Mike. She doesn’t need saving. Let it go,”

Mike nodded, and Steve barely gave you any time to react before he thrust into you, practically gasping at the hot, wet sensation against his aching cock. His grip on your legs were firm, slinging them around his waist so that he had full control over you, relishing in the sight of your breasts moving with every motion, and your mouth agape as he filled you up. Mike was stroking himself, his face flushed as he watched you intently, completely inebriated on oxytocin. There were no sympathetic smiles or gentle hugs when he couldn’t ‘perform’, but a different person entirely - the sex goddess you deserved to be. It was dirty, and so very wrong, but he was enjoying every moment.

Steve’s thrusts were getting faster now, to the point that you could feel his thighs slap against your own, much more his heavy balls against your aching pussy, causing the desk to creak. His eyes darkened as one hand made its way to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly as his cock seemed to hit at you from every angle.

“You like this, hmm?” he cooed, a large smirk wiped across his face. “Getting fucked by an older man whilst your mess of a boyfriend watches? He can’t make you moan like I do, huh?”

You could barely answer, but managed to shake your head.

“Hm, you’re pretty fucked up, aren’t you? I think you and I should have a little private session n’ work some of those issues through…”

You moaned louder, and Steve let out a gleeful cackle before looking over at Mike, who was in a daze.

“I consider myself a fair guy. Get over here,” he gestured to him, and once he was there you took Mike’s cock in your mouth, helping him finish what had been started. He threw his head back as you eagerly licked and sucked on his tip, using your hands to stroke his base and steady him in your mouth.

You’d reached complete overstimulation; and you could feel a familiar heat pooling in your stomach, your body instinctively beginning to grind itself on Steve’s cock. Mike drew himself deeper into your mouth, briefly making you choke at his desperate motions, and Steve placed his hands onto your hips, holding you down and beginning to fuck you mercilessly.

“Touch her,” he ordered, and Mike began rubbing your pussy in circles, adding to the unfathomable feeling. “Feel how much she’s trembling because of me. She’s such a slut, you know that? You might own her heart, but I own her pussy – Fuck – She’s perfect...”

The sound of his throaty voice made you unravel, and you threw your head back as you came, desperately pulling Mike into a kiss as you did. It was euphoric, made all the more otherworldly when Steve said a certain few words:

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fill this pretty pussy up real good, like a real man does. Didn’t you see the way she begged and moaned for me? Our pretty little fucktoy —”

He came with a loud groan and his glasses almost slid off of his face as he lurched forward whilst his fingers left marks on your skin as he held you down to pump his hot, heavy seed into your aching hole. You were both sweaty, and you felt your eyes flutter shut from the exhaustion. As Steve rode off his high he drew his hips back, watching his seed slowly drip out of you and onto his desk.

Smirking, he caught his breath before walking over to assume Mike’s position at your mouth, looking down at him expectedly.

“It’s your turn. I hope you don’t mind the mess I’ve made,”

@dij-ology

#florence_nomachine #florence writes!!#mike schmidt x reader #steve raglan x reader x mike schmidt #william afton x reader x mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #william afton smut #william afton x reader #fnaf smut

2K notes · View notes

azullumi · 14 days

Text

“withering desires of a cruel man with broken confessions” ; aventurine

to you : 🧀 nonnie !! i hope you had a wonderful birthday and i’m sorry for taking a long time to finish this but hey, it’s done now (finally). belated happy birthday and i wish you all the best <33

premise — his belief that he doesn’t deserve the good things is rooted deeply underneath the dirt where he buries his corpse, and he doesn’t deserve you; this is an ode to clementia and he wishes that his song reaches you.

tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, fluff to angst, friends to friends that knows they like each other, orange as a metaphor for love, angry and forced love confessions, aven my self-sabotage and mixed signals king, 1.5k ; one-shot

note — made while listening to phoebe bridgers, faye webster, adrianne lenker, and ichiko aoba. this was supposed to be a short drabble about peeling oranges and sharing with them what happened

They say clementines are a symbol for mercy—gentle, soft, and sweet, like an echo of the sun.

There’s the fresh smell of citrus in the air as he delicately pulls its skin to reveal its form, a warm burst of sunset trapped within its fragile walls, and his nails will be tainted by the color of its penance and he’ll forget what it feels like to only have hatred in his heart. Maybe that’s how forgiveness tastes; salvation will fill his blood as he sheds tears that carry his sins (they were never his).

“I don’t know how you can do that flawlessly.” You say, your voice drenched in wonder and amazement as you watch the movement of his fingers, adeptly peeling the fruit. The sections come apart neatly and perfectly in his hands.

He smiles, “It’s easy.”

“It’s not.” You insist, reminding him of the horror of the state the orange has become when you tried to share it with him. “Did you see the holes I tore through it? I was left with nothing but the mere coat because the juice sprayed in all directions.”

The sound of laughter forms in his throat and escapes, “It’s because it was small and the skin is hard. Come on.” He holds a small piece near your face and you part your lips open enough for him to feed you; a warm feeling resides in your cheeks as you chew. There’s a burst of sweetness, with hints of sourness that lingered in its nature in your mouth—it reminds you of the night when he held your form and gently guided you to the melody of the song.

“Is it sweet?” He asks, his head tilted a little to the side as he bores his gaze at you. There are lingering touches, whispered honey-coated words, affectionate gestures, and eyes painted of different vivid hues and contrasting pristine tones that never seem to hold the light, only reflecting your form within. You hum, nodding your head as you answer, “You should teach me how to peel them, you know. I don’t want to be calling you everytime or having to rely on you too much.”

(Truthfully, and hopefully so, may you never learn so he’ll get to be this close to you always.)

He smiles, sunshine peeking through his expression, “I wouldn’t mind.” He wouldn’t mind if it were just a small matter or nothing at all, you can keep on calling for him, ask for his assistance or simply just his presence—he’ll come running to you. He whispers, “Use me as you wish,” and his words shatter as it falls to the ground. (See him as a tool that has never known its purpose. See him as worthless but mere dust that covers your window sills. See him as nothing but a fool who never understood the lines in his heart.)

You say, “You know you’re not just as little as that to me.”

“Then what am I to you?” The comfort of silence settles in the gaps of his fingers and he finds himself seeking, waiting, with bated breath. His gaze seems to still at your eyes before falling to your lips, lingering for a few moments before meeting your eyes once more, and your hands tremble; you know the answer, you know what to say, you know, you know, you know, you know—and, at once, there’s the warm feeling of his lips on yours as you pull him in, as he pulls you in.

It’s gentle, soft in all of its edges and cracks. He holds your face in his hands and you intertwine yours in his locks, and you pull at his hair, eliciting a hum from him. It’s a burst of warmth, the taste of something sweet still left in your tongue as he kisses you. It’s short yet it will be engraved and buried in the depths of your mind for eternity.

“I like you.” You whisper against his lips as you part, eyes heavy on each other yet his gaze wavers and his breath shudders.

“I…” Why else would he continuously seek your embrace? Why else would he prefer to be alone with you even if it’s just silence between you and him (your presence alone brings him comfort)? Why else would he take such time to understand your form and cradle your being as if you were born from glass? He didn’t have your hands carve the shape of his thoughts into the form of your being just so he wouldn’t capture the feeling of your touch on his skin and how he craves, yearns for it like a starved man—and yet, he’ll hold his head down in humiliation as he looks for the words on the ground. He’s worthless, useless, nothing like his ‘luck’ that seems to curse everyone around him, and you’re everything he’s not. “I’m sorry.”

His hands fall from your cheeks and he stands up, saying, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

The chair screeches beneath him; his thoughts remain silent yet deafening, your voice fading into white noise as you call for him. He has to leave—each of his footsteps are heavy, echoing back to him as if a semblance to contempt and mockery that trails his wake.

Fear and shame forms at the bottom of his lungs. What even is he afraid of? Is it the lack of experience? The fear of abandonment? But humans are not strangers to those thoughts, people are bound to leave and Aventurine wasn’t unfamiliar with that, so how could he be afraid of something that has become a friend to him? Maybe it’s when he’s torn apart from flesh to bones and they’ll see there’s nothing in him—he was born out of barren wastelands and dust, his form has been long since buried under the golden sands. Maybe it's when he’s shown everything to them and they seek for something that he doesn’t have; the disappointment that lies in their expression will forever haunt him. Was it fear or was it worry that nobody could ever love him for what he truly is? Behind the expensive clothes he wears, the shining and heavy jewelry on his wrist, the suffocating rings on his hand, maybe they prefer his skin tainted with letters instead of wounds that brands him as human.

“—Rine.” A hand grasps at his wrist, preventing him from leaving. He stills in his position, feet glued to the floor and his back turned against you. Your voice breaks, “Stay, please.”

He’s stuck, sutured to the ground, hesitation sewing his mouth shut. You urge him to turn around, your fingers tugging at him, so he could face you, so you could see him—he’s tattered, torn and conflicted over something you’ll never know. The unfriendly air of the cold night wraps around his figure, but your hand eases warmth and comfort in his weary bones.

“Why did you kiss me?” You seek for something in the gaps of his expression, looking for a falter in the lines of his features to know the thoughts that he hides beneath all the charades and facades.

“…It was a mistake.”

You answer, frustration slowly seeping into your tone, “You know damn well it’s not.” He knows completely well it’s not and it will never be. And you don’t cry nor plead, you beg with sore, trembling palms for an answer to soothe the disturbance of the waves that will come to swallow you, drowning you in the murky waters of your mind. “You don’t get to hold my hands and cradle me in yours and tell me it’s nothing. You don’t get to look at me in a way that is reminiscent of lovers and tell me it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t get to kiss me and say that it’s a mistake. You’re a cruel man, Aventurine, and you’re unfair for telling me that it was all nothing but a mistake when you haunt my dreams.”

“…I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes for a moment, darkness swallowing his vision yet his mind conjures an image of you in it, berating him. The broken pieces of your words are left scattered on the bottom of yours and his feet.

You ask, voice low, “Do you like me?”

“Why—“

“It’s a yes or no question, ‘Rine. Do you like me or do you not?”

“I love you.” His voice is raised and cracks start to form on the surface of his expression, “and it’s scaring me.” Forgive me. The clock continues to tick despite the world seemingly coming to a still at his words.

The air is suffocating and the silence sits on your shoulders before he says, whispering in a broken tone, “I’m leaving.”

And this time, you don’t stop him. His steps are rushed against the flooring, the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the corners of your mind. The walls of your home stand tall over you, his confession written and tearing through all over your wallpaper, screaming at you; you’re left crumbling on the floor. The sweet scent of citrus lingers in the air, the mess the two of you made still on the counter tops, and you wished you told him you love him too.

tagging @toorurs, the loveliest and sweetest of all. i hope you know that you're cherished and loved by me, and i'm so glad to have you and the sun that touches your skin must be too <33 always be reminded that you're beautiful and i appreciate everything that you do and say (you always make me laugh even when it's just the smallest and useless of things like wow you must have a special talent in making someone smile) !! thank you for always being there for me too and always cheering me up, and also making my day because everything for me nowadays is becoming unbearable and you're the only one that keeps me sane (fk exams and projects and research im going to cry)

477 notes · View notes

poemsfor-her · 8 months

Text

STUDY TECHNIQUES FOR YOU ✧ ⋆ . ˚

I. PARKINSON'S LAW

— Parkinson's Law states that work expands to fill the time available for it's completion. In a study context, this principle suggests that setting deadlines and time constraints can help you stay focused and complete tasks efficiently.

II. FEYNMAN TECHNIQUE

— Named after physicist Richard Feyman, this technique involves simplyfying and explaining complex topics as if you were teaching them to someone else. This process helps you identify gaps in your understanding and reinforces your knowledge.

III. BLURTING

— Blurting, or active recall, is a studying techinque where you try to remember key concepts or facts without looking at your notes or textbooks. This helps strengthen your memory and retrieval skills.

IV. ENERGY CYCLES

— Energy cycles refer to understanding your own energy levels and working in alignment with your natural rhytms. Some people are more productive in the morning, while others excel in the evening. By scheduling tasks accordingly, you can optimize your productivity and focus.

V. SECOND BRAIN

— The concept of a "second brain" often refers to using external tools like note-taking apps or digital resources to store and organize information. This frees up your mental capacity and enhaces your ability recall and apply knowledge.

VI. SPACED REPETITION

— Spaced repatition is a learning method that involves reviewing information at increasing intervals over time. It's designed to help you remember and retain information more effectively by revising it just before you're likely to forget it.

i looooove the feynman technique soo much! it makes learning fun :)

with love, t

1K notes · View notes

godsandvillains-if · 11 months

Text

Gods and Villains is a superhero/horror story set in a dystopian future where Earth is filled to the brim with crime and corruption—a.k.a MCU meets The Boys.

Warning! injury to major characters, gore, body horror, trauma and PTSD, amnesia, death, and sexual content. Rated +18. More specific content warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter.

You take control of a powerful metahuman, an otherwise ordinary human on the outside but who has the meta-gene, a potent mutation deep engraved in their DNA, which gives them superhuman abilities. This next step in human evolution comes with a setback, however, for the curse of madness seems to follow their every step. It lurks in the shadows, patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike—many metahumans fall prey to its alluring promises.

With a dark and traumatic past filled with untold horrors and inhuman experiments, you are rescued from the clutches of crazy terrorists by a team of heroes that might lend you all the tools you need for redemption or complete self-annihilation.

As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile.

Who can you trust to keep you safe other than yourself? Trust no one, and maybe you can get out of this literal hell alive.

Play as male, female, or non-gender specific, along with transgender choices;

Romance one of seven characters, and if your heart is big enough fall in love with two of them. There's three possible poly routes available: Archon and Stardom, Archon and Mars, Paladin and Wildcat;

Customize your appearance, personality and powers;

Struggle against the shackles of madness trying to take hold of your psyche;

Battle a multitude of villains or become one yourself;

Uncover the secrets behind the meta-gene and your abilities;

Help the public fall in love with superheroes or forever destroy that chance;

In total there are seven romance options, each with their own personality, and dark secrets for you to uncover. You can read more about them below:

The villain, or anti-hero, whatever you want to call them, Mars is an enigmatic figure; the very concept of life seems to hold no value to them. A trail of bodies follows wherever they go, and on the news, they are regarded as the biggest menace of the century. They will have the unique ability to sway your loyalty. Beware, their sweet words and promises may drip with honey, but they also drip with the blood of their victims.

Trope: Forbidden love, emotional scars, blood-play

Zev/Zena Hammer

The oldest of the bunch and not a metahuman per se. Hammer acts as the spokesperson for the team, mitigating the often tenuous relationship between humans and the so-called "mutants". As a retired police detective they've learned firsthand how rotten the world can be for the innocent, and they've vowed to protect them at any cost. Their analytical and communication skills will go hand in hand when dealing with various crimes, just as their implants.

Trope: Widow/widower, age gap, don't-call-me-daddy/mommy

Adam/Ada Armstrong

The current leader of the Alliance Team. Headstrong and dauntless, they are regarded as the strongest metahuman in modern times and the most enigmatic of them all, whose past is shrouded in mystery and unknown even to their closest friends. On the outside, they might seem apathetic and unconcerned with human suffering, but their true feelings are hidden beneath layers of deep trauma. Superhuman strength and invulnerability are their greatest assets when fighting villains.

Trope: Nobody thinks it will work, love/hate, fucking-your-boss

Edward/Evelyn Osborne

The former leader of the Alliance Team and Archon's best friend. On the surface, they are the stereotypical showboat: cocky, greedy, and egoistical. Stardom does whatever they can to gain attention, fame, and riches. For them, the best feeling in the world is an adoring fan and a beautiful person fawning over their heroics. The meta-gene gives them a genius-level intellect, which in turn is used to develop several pieces of equipment that are employed by themselves and the team during fights.

Trope: Billionaire, belated love epiphany, good-people-have-good-sex

Johnny/Johnnie

If Archon's past is shrouded in mystery, Paladin's is drowned in it. For all you know, their name is not even Johnny/Johnnie but an alias of their choosing. They are known to be the silent loner type and are somewhat socially withdrawn from other members of the team, only speaking when called upon to do so. Behind their silver mask, they harbor more than a few inner demons, and together with their superhuman weapon and combat proficiency, they fight for the innocent.

Trope: Secret identity, oblivious to love, weapon-fetishization

Pedro/Pilar Flores

The youngest of the team, considered by many a lighthearted jokester without any real talent beyond their obvious powers—which set them apart from every human that walks the earth. With their metahuman status so evident for everyone to see, hiding just didn't seem like an option, so they chose the next best alternative. Known to be playful, energetic, and often immature, they are responsible for balancing the team's more serious side, and when someone can take the form of any living being on Earth, the repertoire of pranks is endless.

Trope: Beauty and the Beast, broken in some way, begging

Doctor Malik/Malika Aziz

The renowned Doctor Aziz, a famed archaeologist and considered to be the most powerful sorcerer, or magic user, in the world. They wear several enchanted artifacts that, in turn, accentuate their already tremendous knowledge of the mystical forces. With an extremely strong moral compass and kind demeanor, they will show themselves to be the best teacher you could ask for, but why do they seem to be everywhere you look?

Trope: Time travel, twin siblings or clones?, teacher-student

LINKS

DEMO ✶ PATREON ✶ KO-FI

#if: intro #if: gods and villains #interactive novel #interactive story #interactive fiction #choice of games #if game #hosted games #choicescript #choices #dashingdon #if wip

2K notes · View notes

yeollie-plz · 6 months

Text

Fix Me

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: Joel fixes stuff around your house, until Joel fixes you.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: Age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel is mid thirties), kissing, crying, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of trauma, oral f! receiving, 18+ smut, porn with plot, slow burn? (ok not really but), reader is a hot mess!, insecurities, unprotected sex (don't be like them!), spanking, masturbation

Gif credits to owners!

The first time you met Joel was about a week after you moved in. Your house was directly across from his and for that week you would see him here and there. You had to admit you found him a bit attractive. You eventually wanted to go around the neighborhood and introduce yourself, instead he surprised you by coming knocking at your door.

Having just finished showering you weren't really prepared for visitors, wearing only a robe and your hair wet and stringy draped on your shoulders. So when the heavy knock rang on your door, you sighed, glancing down at your appearance. You debated if you could just ignore the knock, until another sounded.

Rolling your eyes, you decided there was no other choice but to answer. You swung the door open a bit too aggressively, finally looking at who was standing there. It was the neighbor that you had all but stalked this past week. Okay, you found him very attractive!

You blushed at your actions, seeing that his eyes widened at them as well. It seemed as though your neighbor also noticed your disheveled state, his eyes scanning over your figure. His held at your chest for a second longer before he met your eyes.

"Sorry, I'm Joel, I live across the way there." He motioned towards his place. "I just noticed that there was a hole in your porch and well I'm a contractor so..." He trailed off.

"Okay?" You said trying to urge him to get to his point so you could get back into your house. No matter how cute your neighbor was, he was not worth standing basically naked in your doorway for.

"I...um...thought maybe I could fix it for ya. I can just get it done quickly now. No charge, if I'm honest I've wanted to fix it for a while now."

"So, you came all the way over here to fix my porch?" You tilted your head in confusion. He nodded.

"I guess I have. So, darlin', do ya mind?" You tried to ignore the term of endearment and shook your head.

"I mean sure, that's fine...I guess." You whispered the last part, trying not to come off too taken aback. "I'm going to go look more presentable, you can go ahead and start." You motioned at your robe and Joel's eyes lingered once more.

You ignored it and stepped inside, closing the door behind you. You quickly sorted out your appearance. Before returning outside you stopped in your kitchen grabbing a cup and filling it with ice and water for Joel.

You silently opened your front door so you watch Joel work for a minute. You had found Joel attractive the moment you laid eyes on him, but something about watching the man work. The bead of sweat that rolled down the side of his face as he concentrated on fitting a board into the hole. The bit of skin that showed at the hem of his shirt as he reached further to grab a tool. You shook your head ignoring the growing heat between your thighs and cleared your throat. Joel's head snapped up to you, whipping his brow as he stood.

"I brought you some water, its a bit hot today." You handed him the cup. He took it was a nod of appreciation.

"I'm Y/N by the way. I never introduced myself earlier."

"Nice to meet you darlin'. I've been waiting to finally learn your name." You tried to hide your shock at his statement. He chuckled and sat the cup on the little table you had there.

"I'm 'bout done here. You can go ahead and cool off inside. I'll clean this up. Let me know if you need anything else fixed, you know where I live." He said. You could've sworn you saw his eyes drop to your lips at the mention of fixing something else. No, that can't be, you decided. You had just met the man!

"Uh, sure. Thanks Joel." He winked at you and went back to his project, leaving you not only confused but also a bit hot and bothered.

The weeks that followed, part of you wanted something to break so that you could talk to Joel again. You would see him go to work and come back, but you had no reason to really approach him. Some days you would sit out on your porch and watch him leave. His eyes would lock onto yours. This would earn you a smirk and small wave. To which you blushed and waved back.

One evening you got as bold as to check your mail around the time that he would be home. Lingering by your mailbox until you saw the familiar truck pull down the street into his driveway. That day he called out your name with a hello and you didn't stop thinking about it all night long.

You couldn't believe the way you were behaving. You barely knew Joel and yet you were entranced by him. He was almost your every waking thought. There was something in that manifesting though, as one morning you were making breakfast and a cabinet door came off one of its hinges.

You almost shrieked in excitement as you left the door hanging there. Later that night, you saw Joel's car pull up once more. You grabbed the plate of cookies you had made earlier and made your way across the street. This time you knocked on Joel's door. He answered with a surprised look on his face.

"Y/N?"

"Joel, hi! Um I wasn't sure how serious your offer to fix things was but my cabinet came off its hinges earlier and I don't have the correct screw so...I brought cookies." You held out the plate to him after your rant.

He laughed, "It was serious. Uh, I can come over Sunday to do it? It's been a long day." He rubbed the back of neck awkwardly.

"Oh! Of course! No problem at all!" Calm down, Y/N, calm down.

Another chuckle, as he finally took the plate of cookies from your hands.

"Thank you for these. Sarah will love 'em."

"Sarah? Your..." Your stomach twisted, did he have a wife? You had never seen a woman around.

"My daughter, chocolate chip is her favorite." Relief washed over you.

"Well, I hope you both enjoy them! My grandma's recipe, they are amazing, totally not biased!" He laughed and leaned against his door frame to take you in. A look of content on his face. Almost like he was weighing his options.

Fire sparked through your body and met between your legs at the look. Clearing your throat you spoke quickly, "So, I'll see you Sunday then! Have a good week, Joel!" You rushed back across the street just barely hearing his "You too!" being called out behind you.

Sunday couldn't come soon enough. In the days between then and now you had been very very frustrated. Yes, sexually frustrated. Something about the way Joel looked at you went straight to your panties. He was very easy to fantasize about.

You fantasized about him coming over, the full intention of fixing the cabinet, but nailing you instead. Digging his fingers into your hips as he lifted you onto the counter, teeth nipping at your neck. He would drop to his knees, dragging your panties down with him.

You fantasized about pulling him by his collar into your bedroom, lips connected the entire time. Passion radiating off the two of you as you pushed him onto your bed. You swung your legs over his hips, straddling him. As you continued to crash your lips into his, grinding onto his hardening member. The feeling of his jeans through your thin panties, driving you insane.

You fantasized about taking a shower together. You fantasized about him taking you on the dining table. You fantasized about him taking you on that very porch you met, for all of the neighborhood to see. God, you fantasized about him fucking you anywhere and everywhere.

It was becoming a problem.

How were you supposed to face him when your toys had gotten the most use they ever had at the expense of him? You were fucked. Royally, officially, in every way.

So, when Joel finally did come over on Sunday the only thing that ran through your mind was an image of him inside of you. Which was causing a few attention issues on your part.

"Y/N?" He called through your daydream. He was leaning on your kitchen counter staring at you with his head cocked in amusement. You dragged your eyes down him muscular arm, following the veins to his hand. Your breath caught as you pictured him eating you out there, those fingers pumping in and out of you.

"You feelin' alright, sugar?" His amusement was now changed to light concern as you still weren't responding. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

You blinked and shook your head, attempting to wash the images out of your head. Shifting your weight, you pulled at your collar, suddenly feeling too hot.

"I-yeah, I'm fine. It was just a long week." The first excuse you could think of, yet it was sort of true. A long week of touching yourself to the man that was now standing in front of you.

"I hear that! Well I'm done here so I'll just head out and let ya relax." He smiles and pushes himself off the counter, collecting the last few of his things.

He had almost made it to the door when you called out his name, stopping him in his tracks. You weren't sure what had possessed you in the moment to give you this confidence.

"Can I, uh, ask you a question?"

"Sure, sugar." He smiled at you once again.

"Are you dating anyone?" His smile stayed but something different flashed behind his eyes.

"No, I'm not. What made you curious?" He was trying to read you now. He had that look on his face again like he was debating closing the distance between the two of you.

"Darlin'?" The question came when you didn't answer, he took a step towards you.

"No reason, really! I just..." You searched his eyes like he would give you an out.

A laugh, "Well if you do find a reason, let me know." And with that he left, leaving you cursing yourself in your living room.

Spring came with the next month. And with spring came the thunderstorms. You had never been a huge fan of them, something about the booming sounds and sharp sparks of light always made your skin crawl. Your therapist was convinced there was a deeper reason behind the trauma but you hadn't been able to uncover it yet. All you knew was with thunderstorms came panic attacks and sleepless nights.

You would get up later in the morning, missing the opportunity to watch Joel get to work. And you were too busy bundled into a cocoon hiding from the storms at night to watch him return. Although you didn't know it, Joel was missing seeing you. So like a few nights before this he was watching your house, trying to catch a glimpse of you.

He had been jolted awake by a particularly loud crash of thunder, and after tossing and turning for a bit, he sighed and got out of bed. Originally going downstairs to grab a glass of water his eyes caught on your house when he noticed your bedroom light still on. Joel glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:45? What were you still doing up?

Watching your window for a minute, to see if you would switch the light out. That's when a big strike of lightening struck, knocking out all the power of the neighborhood. Joel rushed to his front door, not even bothering to put on some shoes and ran across the street to your house. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it but his body moved as if being controlled by someone else.

He got to your door, out of breath and soaked. That's when another bolt struck, the thunder following closely after it. But over all that he heard your scream. Without a second thought he turned the handle of your front door, finding it not locked.

Joel rushed through your house to your bedroom, following the sounds of your sobs. Opening the door without a second thought. You glanced up quickly, letting out another scream.

Joel held his hands up, "Sorry! I heard a scream and instinct kicked in. Your door was unlocked. I just...wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Joel." You whispered his name. Tears slid down your cheeks.

"Doll." He whispered back, testing the waters.

"I'm fine, just thunderstorms aren't my favorite thing in the world."

His eyes searched your own. "I can stay and talk with you if you need. That usually helps me."

You smiled, "Sure, that would be nice."

He walked towards the bed, about to sit on the edge of it when you stopped him.

"Wait! You're soaking wet, let me run you a bath!" You pushed yourself out of your cocoon and moved towards the bathroom. A hand around your wrist stopped you. It sent a spark through your body.

"Hate to break it to you, Sugar, but no power means no hot water. I should be the one drawing a bath for you anyways." His grip was light, like he was scared to hurt you. He noticed you looking at it and let go. "Sorry."

You shook your head, "You'll get sick all wet. Let me at least get you a change of clothes." Returning soon after with a stack of clothes.

"Here these are my dad's, should fit. There's towels in the closet if you need it." Handing them to him, you shrugged.

"Your dad's?" He took them with a bit of reluctance, insecurity washing over him.

"Mhm." You nodded, not noticing his change in demeanor and sat back on the bed. Eyes watching as he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

You looked up when he came back out, "How did it go?"

"It was a bit difficult in the dark but I managed." He stop there nervously, something still brewing in his mind.

You patted the bed next to you, silently telling him what you wanted. He took the hint and settled in close to you, but not touching. Sitting there in silence for a few minutes.

"I thought was were supposed to talk." You finally spoke up, intending for it to come off as a joke.

"You're right, sorry I just got in my head for a minute there."

You shifted your body closer to his, finally feeling his body heat radiating onto your own. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Cold?" He asked. You shook your head no.

"Nope-" you cleared your throat, "-what were you in your head about?" An awkward silence washed over you as if he was debating telling you the truth.

Finally he sighed, "It was you giving me your dad's clothes."

"My dad's clothes?"

"Yeah, it just made me remember how much older I am than you."

It took you a second but you laughed. He gave you a sideways look. The look made you stop and blush at your inappropriate reaction.

"Sorry, but its a little funny. Its only like an eight year difference!"

"Nine." He corrected.

"Fine, nine. One year doesn't change that it isn't a big gap. The heart wants what it wants, isn't that the saying?" You hadn't realized what you said until it had slipped past your lips. "Uh-I mean..."

That's when Joel's lips crashed into yours, his hands fumbling around the sheets trying to find purchase of your hips. Your own finding their way around the back of his neck. His cold fingers made contact with your warm skin, causing a gasp to escape your lips. He took this opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, taking control. Your fingers played with the hairs on the back of his neck.

Your lips moved in synch for a while, just feeling each other. The sexual tension that had been building for the past months finally coming to the surface.

"Do you want this?" He asked as he pulled away to trail his kisses down your neck. You nodded aggressively.

"Words, darlin'."

"I want this. I want all of you Joel." It came out breathlessly, you were barely able to find your voice.

He smirks into your neck, "Dirty girl."

At the name, you let out a whimper. His lips return to your own as he grinds his hips down. You feel his hard member graze your clit and you jerk up to meet his hips. You need him.

"'m not gonna last long, darlin'. I've been wanting to fuck you for weeks."

"Me too." You confirmed, blushing at his confession.

"Yeah? You been touching yourself to the thought of me?"

You nod.

"Show me." Normally this request would make you nervous, but something about the way Joel looks at you gives you confidence. And if this gets him to touch you then you'll do anything.

He backs off the bed to give you room. He towers over you now, watching you with hungry eyes. You pull your shirt over you head slowly. You want to give him a show. You stand now, pushing your pants and underwear down with a sway of your hips.

Turning around, you bend down to get your feet out of your pants, shoving your ass into Joel's crotch. He growls, actually growls at the action and lands a hand on your ass. Not enough to leave a mark or cause any real pain, but enough for you to lose your balance and fall onto your stomach onto the bed. His body now covers your own as he pulls your earlobe with his teeth.

"You gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to punish you?" The whisper is so gruff that it almost doesn't sound like him but goddamn does it turn you on.

"Mm, I'll be a good girl."

"Good, now show me how you touch yourself." He lifts his body off of yours and you flip over. Running your hands down the swell of your breasts, letting them linger slightly at your nipples, toying with them. Joel watches intently. You move them down your stomach and finally to your soaked lips.

Your index finger slides easily with the amount of slick you produced during your make out session. If you're being honest most of it is probably from when he whispered in your ear just now but!

You toy with your clit for a second, letting a moan push past your lips at finally receiving what you really need. You let your fingers tease your lips before pushing one inside yourself. The stretch being exactly what you need. Actually, exactly what you need is standing there palming his erection.

"Joel, need you." You moan out as you add another finger inside yourself. This is all he needs to pounce onto you once again and replace your fingers with his own. Now fucking you with his two digits, the stretch being so much more delicious than your own. He reconnects your lips.

"Baby, I need to be inside you now." He admits.

"Please." You are almost begging now. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly. Rising to his feet he undoes his pants and pulls them down. Leaning over you again, he kisses you, rubbing himself onto your wet core.

"Do you have a condom, sugar?" You shake your head no. "Fuck."

"It's okay, I'm clean and on birth control."

"I'm clean too. Are you sure?" His previous dominant attitude is now replaced with concern.

"Yes, I'm sure, I just need you now." He takes your word for it and pushes into you in one swift motion. Usually your wetness as to easily push in. He stretches you out completely, causing you to grab his bicep in a search for support.

"You okay?" He askes.

"Yeah, just need a moment. You're bigger than my toys." You give yourself a minute to adjust to his size. You feel your walls contract onto his member, your body wanting him to move. "Okay, I'm ready. Ruin me."

"With pleasure." And he does just that. He fucks you at a speed that almost feels inhuman. His hips meet yours roughly, sliding his cock almost fully to the tip and then bottoming out inside of you. Part of you thinks you'll have bruises tomorrow from how roughly he is thrusting into you, but honestly it will be worth it. Especially with how good you are feeling right now.

His pace falters a bit when you clench around him, "Fuck." He mutters. Regaining his pace quickly. "Told ya I'm not gonna last. Need to make you cum, baby."

You moan at his words and clench onto him once again, earning a slap to you thigh. His hand reaching up and fondling your breast, quirking the nipple with two fingers, causing your hips to jerk up meeting his trusts.

"Come on, baby, I know you're close." Those fingers now make their way down to your clit, working it in circles. You moan at the feeling, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

With one particularly hard thrust, he hits that spot inside of you. The mixture of that with him toying with your clit causes the coil to snap inside of you and your body warms in your orgasm. Shuddering your hips move involuntarily as he fucks you through your orgasm. Only letting go of your clit with he decides you have had enough.

"There it is." He kisses you and begins to chase his own orgasm. "Where do you want me?"

Inside of responding you open your mouth and stick you tongue out. His eyes go even darker as he speeds his hips up. Joel gets himself to the edge before pulling out of you. You quickly sit up and wait for his cum. He grunts and shoots all of himself down your throat. You swallow dutifully.

He smirks, "Pretty girl. Don't let any go to waste." He runs his thumb across a bead of his spend on the corner of your mouth pushing it inside. You lick all around his thumb, sucking lightly.

"Fuck, darlin', you're gonna get me started again."

"Maybe I want you to." You look at him with hooded eyes, smirking.

"You're in for it now." He grabs your hips and pushes you down onto the bed, attacking your mouth with his own.

You didn't sleep that night either.

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #the last of us #fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us joel #last of us joel #joel the last of us #joel tlou #smut #smut fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine

716 notes · View notes

mikajunie · 1 month

Text

rediscovering shame and giving yourself compassion (how to deal with shame as someone with ADHD)

this is directed towards my fellow ADHDers who have trouble with reoccuring shame while leads to hindered productivity.

signs that your productivity is hindered by shame (compiled by my own experiences):

you feel negative physical symptoms when you think about your responsibilities

you find ways to avoid the responsibilities

every time you make progress, you feel like you don't ever wanna touch it again

when you present your progress, you feel ashamed of yourself because it's not finished (on time & according to ur standards).

you feel like you are a constant failure. you never win, despite achieving good things here and there.

you are a walking ball of anxiety

you have a fear of being perceived

there's probably more, but eh those are just from my own experiences

below i will write down what y'all should remember, what you can do to help yourself, etc. this is compiled from dr k, my own journaling time, and my firsthand experience from having shame 24/7

some things u gotta remember

shame is what exists in the gap between your ideal self and where you are currently.

your ideal self doesn't have to be unrealistic, it can be yourself when you were at your peak or someone who is very similar to you.

shame brings negative thoughts, because it makes you see progress as a negative thing.

instead of being happy that u made progress, u grumble to urself and ask "why didnt i just do it sooner? im so stupid". it's a reminder of your failures, so u avoid progress altogether.

shame can become a part of you, to the point where you feel uneasy or vulnerable if you dont feel ashamed at yourself

shame doesn't do anything to ADHDers in the long run except self-loathing and hindered productivity.

what should u do?

basically self-therapy, but instead of stopping at why, i try to solve my shame one-by-one.

examine past moments where you felt a LOT of shame. this can go back to elementary. the stronger the emotions, the better. now, write them down. you're probably cringing, but that is good. feel all the cringiness running through ur veins.

why did you feel shame? why did it happen? what did you feel?

reframe your thoughts. instead of immediately running away from it, accept it and justify it. give it compassion. give it a hug. was it your 7 year old self? hug yourself. it's okay to fuck up and do silly things sometimes, and it's okay to have ADHD. it's not our fault.

remember that ADHD is a lifelong nerudivergency, you can't just push it away. coping mechanisms and tools help, but give yourself some grace when you screw up. it's our first time living anyway.

calm your body down. make sure your physical body is doing okay.

now... think of one thing you want to do but can't because of shame and do these steps carefully. think of the reasons why you might be ashamed, and reframe your thoughts.

WARNING!! TAKE IT ONE PRESENT ACTION AT A TIME. don't do this for every action you want to take, let your body slowly learn that it's okay to make progress despite the shame you feel, and you are allowed to feel compassion for yourself.

train your body to accept compassion slowly. life is tough with ADHD but it's even tougher knowing that shame will get in your way. give yourself a break, it's fine to fuck up, we all go through different things anyway. even if it's not fine, you will learn and make those mistakes a lil bit lesser in the future.

ok hope this helps.

#mika rambles #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #adhd #actuallyadhd #actually adhd #adhd tips #adhd advice #adhd problems #adhd brain #adhd things #self improvement #mental health #mental illness #advice

332 notes · View notes

spacerockfloater · 2 months

Text

Why the fuck does Laena Velaryon, who is canonically younger than Rhaenyra Targaryen in the show, look like a fucking 20-year-old in episode 5 while Rhaenyra, her elder, still looks fucking 13? Why the actual fuck did they change the YOUNGER girl’s actress and made her look older, but it’s okay for Rhaenyra to continue looking like a preteen? I’ll tell you why.

They’re trying to distract us from the fact that creepy ass Daemon is courting a 14-year-old. A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD. Rhaenyra is 15 in episode 1 and Laena is 12, meaning they have a 3 year age gap. Then, Viserys tells Rhaenyra that she must marry since she’s 17 now, making Laena 14, maybe 15 at best. So they obviously can’t afford having Daemon thirst over a child again, therefore this is a shitty attempt to cover up the fact that Laena still is a very fucking young child.

HBO what is this? Why do your casting choices indicate that you’re trying to use some kind of ageist technique to manipulate your viewers? Why are the supposedly good guys, Rhaenyra and her children, portrayed by very young actors? Is this to show how innocent and pure they are? Why are the characters who are supposedly evil, Aegon and Aemond, or the character for whom we shouldn’t worry too much about since she’s just a tool for Daemon’s story line to develop, Laena, portrayed by obviously older actors even though they’re all supposed to be kids? Because the youth = good people and old = bad people analogy is fucking gross and lowkey paedophilic. Not to mention how weird it is to make all the black girls in the show look like fucking grown ups. What kind of racist bullshit is this?

I can’t understand HBO’s decisionmaking for the love of me. Like, on the one hand, it’s so obvious that they’re forcing Daemon and Rhaenyra down our throats, to the point that I actually laughed out loud when the show runner said “he doesn’t get why people like Daemon”. Like, my guy, you MADE the show. You made him look like an appealing, dangerous, sexy, strong, victorious and mysterious man, so what do you mean you don’t get the appeal? On the other hand though, most of the actions that they allow Daemon to perform are so horrifying that it makes it impossible for a sane person to stand beside him and defend him. Like, they try to sugarcoat that he’s an abusive piece of shit yeah, but they somehow don’t shy away from the fact that he’s terrible? Are they doing both of these things on purpose? Are they trying to challenge the viewer, to show us how abusers, despite being openly deranged, still have their way of dazzling their victims, the average person, and hypnotising them with their charm? Is Daemon doing to us (and by us I mean you Daemon stans, not me, stay safe though) what he’s doing to Rhaenyra and Laena? Are the show producers testing the average viewer’s intelligence and ability to recognise an abuser? Will there be a lesson to be learned?

I would like to hope so but I highly doubt it, because while one could support this theory by arguing that changing Laena’s actress is an attempt to mask Daemon’s degenerative nature a bit so that it isn’t completely obvious that he’s a bad man, someone else could counter this argument by saying that we’ve already seen Daemon groom a minor so this wouldn’t be something new. We’ve seen him do much more violent crimes actually, so why shy away from the fact he’s a groomer when we are already aware of this? Idk man, I really want to think that HBO is trying to make us see that Daemon is an evil person, but then indirectly glorifying him constantly makes me believe they just want people to root for him.

P.S. I may anger a lot of people by saying this, so I’ll make myself clear by stating that I love and greatly respect actors who specialise in portraying evil characters, because doing so and not losing yourself is a challenge (*cough* Leto *cough*) but if done correctly, it’s a true showcase of one’s talent and hard work. Lee, De Niro, Hopkins, Bardem and Rickman are just a few to name. However, Matt Smith has never rubbed me the right way. No hate to the guy, I don’t even know him, but I’ve seen him play the villain in three separate occasions (HOTD, Last Night in Soho, Morbius) and I just get these weird vibes, but I usually told myself it’s just my imagination running wild. However, I recently found out that Smith claimed that Daemon is a loyal man who loves deeply and that his “heir for a day” brothel feast was his way of honouring Aema, which really disturbed me for obvious reasons. I don’t know if he said this because he’s trying to defend his character and by extension himself, or if he just wants to promote the show, or if he doesn’t understand Daemon or if he funnily enough has fallen victim to his own character’s charm and I don’t care because it is a dangerous thing to say. Painting this character, the arrogant, obnoxious, self serving, people slaughtering, wife murdering, backstabbing, abusing, grooming, lying, manipulating, war criminal of a man, in such a positive light while being a man yourself, knowing that most of this character’s supporters are young impressionable women who just find him hot, makes me lowkey wanna cover my drink in his presence, I don’t know.

#hbo #hbo max #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd critical #house targaryen #house velaryon #anti rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #anti daemon targaryen #anti daemyra #ageism #matt smith #anti targ stans #anti targ restoration #pro team green #team green #anti team black

258 notes · View notes

eddiediaaz · 4 months

Note

Hi, me again!

Ty for the reply, I would love an in depth tutorial if you don't mind as i really wanna get this effect to work and I kinda work best when it's spelt out for me when learning new techniques lol :)

hey anon, no worries! here's how i used this amazing template by @danesdehaan and added a rolling effect like this (from this gifset):

this effect uses photoshop's timeline. i use cs5, for reference.

detailed tutorial under the cut :)

I. PREPARING THE TEXT

when you open the template, you should have a group called "songs" with 3 groups for each song. what you wanna do is duplicate these numbered groups until you have the amount of songs you want. for each group, use the move tool or your keyboard's arrows to move the duplicated song text layers/groups on your canvas so they're under the first three that are already there. make sure these new duplicated layers are in the "songs" group.

then type the numbers, song titles, artists, song durations, etc. it should look like that:

i wanted mine to have a smaller gap in between each song, so i used the arrows to move each song group closer together, and it looks like that before the animation:

II. ANIMATED EFFECT

once you have typed everything, make sure there are no mistakes and that you won't need to edit anything about the songs or durations or anything like that, because you won't be able to go back. when that's done, select all of the numbered song groups and right click > Merge Layers.

that will give you one layer with all of the songs together. i've renamed mine "SIX SONGS". make sure this new merged layer is still in the "songs" group.

once that's done, you're ready for the animation. and it's pretty easy, because you only need two keyframes: one at the start of the gif, and one at the end.

go to the start of your gif on the timeline, and toggle the position keyframe animation by clicking on the little stopwatch icon. a little yellow keyframe should appear where the cursor is, at the start of the gif:

then go to the end of the gif with the cursor. with the "SIX SONGS" layer selected, use the move tool or keyboard arrows (my preference) to move up the text until all the songs are inside the darker rectangle. once you move this layer's position, a keyframe will appear on the timeline and the animation will be created.

the animation now looks like this:

if you want, you can now edit the speed of the animation by moving the keyframes. the closer the two keyframes are, the faster the animation will be; the further apart the keyframes are, the slower the animation will be.

III. LAYER MASK

since we want the songs to be contained in the dark rectangle and below the line, we need to add a layer mask. i started by creating a shape of where i want the songs to be contained with the rectangular marquee tool:

then, on the layers panel, select the "songs" group and click on the layer mask icon to create a mask with that rectangular selection.

if you play the animation after making that layer mask, it should now look like this:

if you like it that way then you are done, yay!

but if you'd like softer edges, like i have done for mine, click on the layer mask's black and white thumbnail. use the brush tool with a 0% hardness and the black color to make the edges of the mask softer. make sure you are making your brush strokes with the layer mask's thumbnail selected.

once you have brushed a bit of black with a soft rounded brush on the top and bottom of the mask, the animation should look like this:

and that's it! i hope this was clear enough :)

380 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 9 months

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part Eleven)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

After the earth-shattering revelation that Thomas Shelby was your long-lost uncle, your world was turned upside down. The truth weighed heavily upon your shoulders, casting a dark cloud of desire and forbidden love that enveloped your every thought.

Yearning for a real father figure and a sense of belonging, you found solace in Arthur's attempts to embrace you as his own. Yet, deep within, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions tugged at your heart. The news of Arthur being your father was a bitter pill to swallow, especially as you had already fallen under the spell of Thomas. Despite the twisted nature of your newfound familial ties, an undeniable thrill coursed through your veins at the mere thought of him.

Polly, ever perceptive, was aware of your forbidden desires. In due course, she orchestrated your induction into the Shelby Family, much to your mother's displeasure. In the midst of a family gathering, you were welcomed as an equal, officially cementing your place within the Shelby clan.

Within weeks, Polly took you under her wing, unveiling the intricacies of the Shelby name. She showed you how to navigate the treacherous waters of their empire, providing you with the tools to forge your own path. In her tutelage, you learned the art of negotiation and gained the confidence to command respect from those who once stood above you. Your transformation did not go unnoticed, as your newfound assertiveness radiated like a beacon.

Linda, resentful of Arthur for allowing your rise within the Shelby Company Limited, would often remark, "You truly are a Shelby." In the bustling office, you commanded attention with your sharp wit and no-nonsense attitude. Even the other Peaky Blinders marvelled at your ability to tackle any challenge that crossed your path. Your formidable uncle, Tommy, couldn't help but be drawn to this "new you."

"I see you've settled right in, taking charge like a true fucking Shelby," Tommy proclaimed proudly upon his return from the United States, where he had forged an alliance with Al Capone.

A mischievous twinkle danced in your eyes as you replied, "Indeed, Tommy," fully aware of the captivating presence you now possessed. Tommy's gaze lingered upon you, unable to tear himself away from the magnetic force you had become.

As such, his desire for you quickly resurfaced when he returned to the office after you had last seen him three weeks ago, and this desire was now becoming stronger with each day.

Your desire for your newfound uncle, however, had never really been extinguished even though, deep down, you knew that this forbidden infatuation could never be. The more you tried to fight it, the harder it seemed to resist.

Now that he was back in Birmingham, this was going to be problematic, and you could not help but tease him, making sure that he knew that you still did not care about the fact that he was your uncle.

Thus, one day, as you were engrossed in analysing some financial documents, you became aware of a pair of intense eyes fixed upon you. Raising your gaze, you caught Thomas giving you that infamous Shelby smirk, glimmering with a mixture of admiration and something darker.

"Enjoying the view, Tommy?" you quipped, unable to resist the temptation of toying with your uncle and letting him know that you knew he was watching you. After all, power breeds confidence, and confidence tempts fate.

Thomas leaned against the door frame, his voice dripping with the perfect blend of arrogance and desire. "The view is quite remarkable indeed, but it's not the scenery that has captured my attention, Love," he mused, and the air between you crackled with an intoxicating mix of tension and attraction.

“I didn’t think it was, uncle,” you teased and little did you realise just how deeply Tommy still desired you, his thoughts consumed by the forbidden possibilities.

***

As days turned into weeks, though, the flirtation between you and your uncle escalated. The stolen glances, lingering touches, and suggestive banter left a trail of electric anticipation in the air.

However, Tommy, consumed by his position and familial responsibilities, fought tooth and nail to keep the burgeoning attraction at bay. He knew all too well the dangers of allowing desires to steer his course, especially when they involved his own flesh and blood.

Reminding yourself of the bond you shared as a family, you tried to suppress the growing feelings within you as well. This was a line that should never be crossed again, no matter how tempting it may be.

One evening, though, as the sun dipped below the Birmingham skyline, you found yourself alone with your uncle in his dimly lit office. The cogs of desire turned ceaselessly in both of your minds, threatening to break free from their self-imposed restraints.

"You know damn well what you're doing to me, don't you Love?" Tommy whispered his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

“I do, Thomas and I am enjoying it. You were the first man I have ever slept with, and I most certainly don’t have any regrets, even after finding out that we are related,” you smirked before a moment of tense silence hung heavy in the air like a thick fog, the unspoken truth lingering between you. The forbidden fruit was tantalisingly close, the taste both bitter and alluring.

“But, I respect your decision. I know how important the elections are for the company, and I also know how important you are to this family of which I am now part. So, I won’t stand in your way,” you reassured your uncle, your voice filled with a mixture of admiration and apprehension. The weight of the upcoming elections for the company and the significance of your role as a member of this esteemed family was not lost on you. You knew that your uncle's leadership was crucial, and you didn't want to impede his progress.

As he stepped closer, his presence enveloped you, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, igniting a desire that surged through your veins. The intensity of your emotions was almost overwhelming, but you managed to maintain your composure.

His response was immediate, his voice dripping with an intoxicating blend of passion and confidence. "You could never stand in my way, Love," Tommy declared, his gaze locked with yours. It was as if time stood still at that moment, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of vulnerability wash over you.

A shy smile played on your lips as you absorbed his words. "No?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Tommy's hand gently caressed your face, his touch both tender and possessive.

"No, never," he assured you, his smile radiant as he pulled away slightly. He seemed to savour the tension between you, revelling in the unspoken connection that bound you together. "I have a gift for you," he revealed, his voice filled with anticipation.

With a delicate flourish, he presented you with a beautifully wrapped parcel. The vibrant green satin dress nestled within shimmered in the soft glow of the room. Its luxurious fabric seemed to come alive, whispering promises of elegance and allure. It was a testament to the exquisite taste and attention to detail that Tommy possessed.

You couldn't help but be captivated by the dress, its beauty mirroring the complexity of your emotions. It symbolised the delicate balance between duty and desire, representing the choices you were faced with in this intricate dance of power and love.

"Before I knew that you were my niece, I had something special planned for your birthday. This no longer seems appropriate now as it involved a date at the pictures and several hours of fucking. But I wanted you to have this dress anyway, as it was custom-made for you. It should fit you perfectly, and perhaps you could wear it at your birthday party next week,” Tommy exclaimed, hearted.

The beauty of the dress filled you with conflicted emotions - gratitude, desire, and a tinge of sadness. You couldn't ignore the fact that Thomas had desired you before discovering your blood connection. It was a bittersweet gift, a reminder of the love that could never be.

***

The day of your birthday had finally arrived, and Polly spared no expense in hosting a lavish celebration for their newest member. Arrow House was adorned with twinkling lights and fragrant roses, the grandeur of the occasion evident in every glittering detail.

As you walked down the sweeping staircase adorned in the green satin dress gifted to you by your own uncle, the room fell silent. All eyes were on you, the long-lost daughter of Arthur Shelby, now officially welcomed into the Shelby Family.

The dress clung to your curves, accentuating every tantalising inch of you. Thomas, unable to resist the sight before him, felt his desire for you intensify with each step you took. It was as if the very air around him crackled with a forbidden energy.

He couldn't tear his gaze away, mesmerised by your beauty. He cursed himself for the wicked thoughts that danced through his mind, yearning to touch and taste what he knew he could never have again.

The music swirled through the room, a melody of voices and laughter, yet all Thomas could hear was the pounding of his own heart, a wild beat that threatened to expose his desires to the world.

In a quiet corner of Arrow House, beneath a veil of shadows, you mustered the courage to approach Tommy to thank him for his generous gift. The ache within you had become unbearable, the desire to kiss him consuming your every thought.

“Thank you for the dress,” you told him almost shyly as his penetrating gaze met yours, and you could see the struggle in his eyes.

“You are welcome, Love,” Tommy responded as he looked at you, desire mixed with guilt, creating a tempestuous storm within his troubled soul.

"You look stunning in it, just as I had anticipated,” he whispered, his voice tinged with need. It was a dangerous game he was playing, his words a tantalising invitation into the forbidden depths of his desires.

Lizzie Stark, who had harboured affection for Thomas for years and who was carrying his child, watched your interaction with a mix of envy and resentment. The rivalry between you and Lizzie had always existed, but now it had become intertwined with the complex tapestry of desire and blood that bound Thomas to you.

She knew about past intimacy between you and Tommy and thought that all of this was in the past now that you were part of the family.

“Lizzie is clearly still worried about you and me,” you smirked, causing Tommy to chuckle as you both noticed her eyes on you.

“Well, Lizzie has always had a dislike for women I am associating myself with, and you are clearly no exception,” Tommy acknowledged, causing you to laugh.

“But you are not associating yourself with me anymore. She, of all persons, should know that now that she reminds me of our family bond every day, referring to you as my fucking uncle,” you said with some annoyance in your voice, causing Tommy to chuckle.

“Does she now?” Tommy chuckled, causing you to nod.

“Yes, Uncle Tommy. She does. And perhaps you should have a word with her about it and tell her to stop being so pitiful,” you told Tommy before you beckoned him with a mischievous smile.

“Now come, I need to show you something,” you then told your uncle before leading him upstairs to one of the guestrooms in Arrow House, and as Tommy followed you silently, desire burned hot between you, pulsating with a fierce urgency.

“Show me what, Love?” Tommy ought to enquire as, confidently, you pulled him into the empty room before, in the dimly lit corner, you pressed your lips against his with a passionate fervour, your hands exploring his body with a mixture of longing and desperation.

It was a kiss laden with desperation, a passionate struggle against the convictions that threatened to tear you apart. For a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered, and the world outside that room ceased to exist.

But just as quickly as it had begun, Thomas pulled away, his face a maelstrom of regret and self-reproach. "No," he said, his voice ragged and filled with torment.

His grip on your shoulders tightened as he tried to find the words. "Y/N, I am your fucking uncle,” he said, his voice thick with anguish. It was a reminder that echoed through your mind, a harsh reality that threatened to shatter the fragile illusion of forbidden love.

“Yes, I know, but it is also my birthday, and I am already drunk on the champagne,” you told him, realising once again how much you still loved him as, in your eyes, disappointment mingled with frustration.

Thomas looked torn, his resolve waning under the weight of his desires. But his sense of duty fought fiercely against the raw passion that had entwined your souls. It was a battle for his moral compass, and he knew it would forever change the dynamic of the family if he surrendered to temptation.

"I can't Love. It's not just about us. It's about my fucking reputation, the elections, and everything that holds our family together, and you fucking know that, don’t you, eh" he repeated again, using the same words that he used on you two weeks ago. His voice was heavy with self-restraint. His eyes bore into yours, an unspoken promise of love and longing, even as he denied himself the pleasure of surrendering.

The corner was filled with unspoken words, thick with regret and longing. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you caught in a web of desire and familial ties. The room buzzed with excitement, oblivious to the intricate dance of passion being performed in that secluded space.

Frustration coiled within you, growing with each passing second. The truth of your blood connection was like a spectre haunting your every thought. The intensity and complexity of your feelings made it difficult to see beyond the throbbing ache in your heart.

Thomas abruptly stepped back, creating distance between you as he battled conflicting emotions. He turned away, his jaw clenching with determination. "I'm sorry. I should've never allowed it to go this far," he said, his voice heavy with self-loathing, not even realising that you both were being watched.

Without another word, Thomas walked away, leaving you standing there, trembling with a potent mix of desire, frustration, and heartbreak. He walked toward the door, his footsteps weighted with regret.

As he turned the doorknob, you couldn't hold back the desperation in your voice. "Thomas, please... don't leave me here. Not like this, on my fucking birthday,” you begged, and Thomas froze at the threshold, his resolve wavering for a precious moment. His eyes were lost in a tempest of conflicting emotions. But then, with a final sigh, he stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, leaving you alone in the room, your heart shattered.

Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed onto the bed, the weight of the forbidden desire crushing you. You wondered if you could ever find a way to navigate this treacherous path, one that defied both morality and convention.

Unbeknownst to you, as you lay broken and defeated, Thomas stood at the end of the hallway. His fists clenched, his features twisted in anguish. The battle within him waged on, torn between the love he knew was wrong and the restraint he knew was correct.

Lying there, adrift in a sea of despair, you wondered how it had come to this. How had fate forged such an intricate web, weaving together desire, longing, and the damning truth of your shared blood?

You felt like you had been short-changed by life, and after wiping away your tears, you, too, put on a solid face to return to the party downstairs.

Lizzie Stark, her eyes filled with triumph and pity, brushed past you on your way down to the ballroom, her voice barely concealing her smug satisfaction. "Tommy will never truly be yours. Blood is thicker than desire,” she barked, and you resisted the urge to confront Lizzie, unable to find the words to refute her taunts.

The weight of Thomas's rejection bore down on you, suffocating your spirit and casting a dark cloud over the extravagant celebration that had once held so much promise.

As you meandered through the festivities, your mind raced with thoughts of escape. Perhaps leaving Birmingham was the only way to mend your shattered heart. But even as you entertained the notion, a part of you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, love could conquer all in the end until, somewhat suddenly, you were approached by a man you had not met before. His name was Liam O’Connor, and he was the newest member of the Peaky Blinders. Handsome, tall and dangerous.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x you #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic

445 notes · View notes

midnight-moth · 7 months

Text

Ok, so i don’t know who read what but for any of this to make sense, one of Phantom’s horns is broken. I guess that’s the most important part. The other important part is that Mountain in my mind has antler type horns and he sheds them.

So …

Kintsugi

CW past abuse mentioned, hurt/comfort

Phantom feels very self conscious about the broken horn. It’s like wearing a permanent bruise on his cheek, or a split lip. And he already has scars that will never heal. But this is different. Because it hurts a little. Sometimes it hurts a lot.

Like a tooth it’s connected to nerves and they’re just shy of being exposed. It’s irritated by the cold, by touch, or if he has a headache. In fact he believes he gets headaches because of it.

He’s tried all kinds of things but nothing really works. Nothing fills in the gaps quite right. Everything he’s tried is literally just a bandaid. Because he realizes that it’s not actually physical. And there’s nothing he can do.

The others can see him wincing when he pulls his helmet off. Even glamoured away it becomes a constant source of pain. He prods it with his fingers and his jaw clenches tight and he wishes he could just numb the pain all of the time. But that would take more energy and focus than he has. And no amount of quintessence is going to make the tissue grow back.

Mountain has an idea. What if some of the pain is like - for lack of a better term - a phantom limb. What about a prosthesis?

The pattern of the break isn’t too complicated. He thinks he could make an approximation of a match. But how to actually adhere it to the surface, he isn’t sure.

He looks over to the collection of bric-a-brac he’s collected on tour and his eyes land on a piece of pottery.

Kintsugi - a black earthen bowl threaded with gold. Resin and metal, fragmented pieces not only whole again, but stronger. And beautiful.

The bone white of his antler certainly wouldn’t match the onyx of Phantom’s horn, but they would compliment each other surely.

Mountain decided to consult some of the others, he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping, or being presumptuous. Phantom had always been clear that he didn’t need anyone to fix his eyes. That they weren’t broken. But he could still see - in his own way, and it didn’t hurt.

This was different. They all agreed. But their consensus was irrelevant if it wasn’t what Phantom wanted. Mountain decided that it would be more persuasive if he actually had something to show him. So he set to work carving. He shattered a few using the wrong tools, some were too big, some too small. He was grateful that some sentimental part of him always kept the ones that fell.

He felt like he finally got it right. Or as right as he could without creating some kind of mold. That would spoil the element of surprise. Which somewhere along the line became a part of it.

Late that evening, when Phantom had curled up with his head on Swiss’s lap and his feet tucked under Dew’s knees, he crept into the room like a thief. Which was silly because Phantom was the only one who was asleep. Others were carrying on conversations, the tv was on, light flooding the space from the various lamps scattered across the room.

The pack was all very aware of his preoccupation with this. And they’d already held up the other prototypes to Phantom’s unconscious form to see if they would fit. Tonight was no different, Swiss took the carved half of a horn and held it as close as he dared.

It looked right. It looked level. It had the same curve and bevel as the others. Something so tightly wound in Mountain’s chest begun to unravel. He hadn’t realized how involved he’s become. A single mindedness that had been consuming most of not all of his waking thoughts over the last few weeks.

He’d already purchased some ready made epoxy after learning that the natural resins came from poison ivy. After wandering in late one day covered in a rash, he consulted the internet for an alternative, feeling a little bit betrayed by his own greenhouse.

He still needed gold. A fact he lamented over at breakfast. Lunch. Afternoon tea. Later that evening, he received several visitors. They each came with an offering.

A broken chain that Cumulus didn’t wear anymore, Swiss with a single cuff link whose partner was missing, Aether took one of the small gold hoops threaded through his ear right out and placed it in Mountain’s large palm. He’s collected pieces from almost everyone.

Dew had something else to offer him. Fire. The kind of heat that Mountain couldn’t conjure in the Abbey’s hearth.

He sat patiently that night with a pool of gold and black in his palm while Mountain filled in the small fissures and cracks in the antler. Maybe it wasn’t necessary, but he wanted it to be strong. And it when it was finished, it did look beautiful.

The final task was convincing, or rather offering it to Phantom. Which was perhaps the most difficult. Mountain had put so much time, work, and care into this. At least if Phantom said no it would make a cool pendant for a necklace.

Mountain decided not to waste much time the next day, to ease the burden of anxiety he carried knowing Phantom might reject his offer, or be outright offended by it.

He found him curled in a spot of sun on the couch, digesting his breakfast and playing a game boy color which may as well have still been the height of technology for him.

The bit of antler and gold felt hot in his palm as he kept it in his fist behind his back.

“Hey Mounty, whatcha doing?”

Well, he was standing there awkwardly, staring. “Well, I have something for you. But only if you want it of course. It was just a thought. There’s no pressure. In fact you might think it’s stupid. Maybe it is stupid….”

“Woah, woah, stop trying to talk me out of it. I don’t even know what it is yet!” Phantom paused the electronic warbling coming from the device and put it on the coffee table.

“So, what is it?”

Mountain watched his tail dancing behind his back, like a kit about to open a birthday present.

“Please, just stop me if this upsets you.”

“Okay, I don’t know what you’re gonna give me that will upset me, is it more chores?”

“No bug, I made something for you. For your horn.”

“What do you mean?” Phantom’s fingers automatically reached for the broken appendage, running his fingers along the severed edge.

“I made a - a - well, here.” Mountain dropped the object into Phantom’s outstretched hand.

“Oh.” Phantom rolled the object around in his hands. It was smooth, it looked like Mountain’s antler, but the surface had been polished, lacquered. The fine crevices had been filled with gold epoxy, like little veins of sunlight.

“You hate it. I shouldn’t have assumed. I know - you’re not broken, you don’t need fix-“

“I love it.”

Oh no, his eyes were glazed over with a pool of tears. If he cries I’ll cry, Mountain thought. But too late. Two big fat tears dripped on his hand.

“I just thought maybe it would help. With the -“

“Pain.”

“Yeah.”

Mountain went on to tell him that everyone contributed something. Whether it was the gold in the piece or the flames that forged it together.

And if he was willing, he and Dew could attach it. But he had to be sure. Getting it off would surely be painful.

Phantom practically launched himself into Mountain’s lap.

“I want it. Can we do it now?”

“Yes, bug. Dew’s waiting.”

His ears must’ve been burning, Dew rounding the corner with a small brush and a pocket full of metal.

Phantom watched in fascination as the hunk of gold turned to a smoldering puddle in his hand. Mountain fished his glasses out of his front pocket and took the brush from Dew.

“I’ll have to work fast. It’ll set quickly. So, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Mountain doused the brush in the epoxy whilst whispering a small prayer to Lucifer himself that it wouldn’t actually hurt when he touched Phantom’s horn. He’s stared at it while the ghoul was sleeping enough to know that there was no way the nerve was actually exposed. And that the pain may very well be emotional in nature.

He dabbed a thick glob of resin right in the center and waited for Phantom to scream. But he felt nothing at all.

Mountain worked faster now, painting the surface of the prosthesis and his horn before setting the newly carved piece on top.

He watched some of the epoxy spill out between the cracks, creating a glittering gold vein along the fused edges. He held his breath, waiting for too much to spill out and drip down the side, but it stayed in place. All those practice runs helped, and he was grateful for the abbey’s sacrifice of a few dinner plates.

“Well, it’ll take a few hours to harden completely. So I wouldn’t go head butting anyone. But it’s done.”

“Can I look?”

“Of course you can, bug.” Mountain dropped the brush into Dew’s outstretched palm as he rolled the cooling metal around in his hand like play dough.

He didn’t follow, even though they’d all helped, this was really Mountain’s labour of love.

Mountain followed to the ornate mirror in the hallway leading to the dorms. He couldn’t bare to look even though he’d already seen it. Because Phantom hadn’t, and he couldn’t bear it if Phantom didn’t like it.

Phantom was inspecting it close enough that Mountain wasn’t sure if he could see it at all. And then he remembered that of course Phantom would see it in his own way.

And he did, all of the donated objects carried little bits and pieces of their magic. And of course the antler was saturated with it. It was a part of Mountain at some point.

So to Mountain it looked like black and white, fused by gold. To Phantom, it looked like lichen greens and aqueous blues, copper ore and violet flower petals. It looked like his pack, how he saw them.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“You don’t have to. If you’re happy with it that’s all I need.”

“You know, I really thought I was broken. Beyond repair. But all of you, you fixed me. Filled up all my cracks and weak spots and now I’m whole again. But more than that, I’m better than I was. Stronger.”

Mountain couldn’t find the words to reply. Just strong arms and a hug that threatened to crack Phantom’s ribs, and if Phantom hadn’t been mended as he was by his pack, maybe he would’ve.

#this idea has been floating around in my brain since June #I guess when I first wrote about him #I know this is so very sappy #I do not care #mountain ghoul #phantom ghoul #Aeon ghoul #nameless ghouls #midnight moth writes

315 notes · View notes