#we can’t do shit with the women’s movement the way it is
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i feel like the problem a lot of marxfems have is the assumption that you can work with marxist men without first demanding your dignity from them, without having a robust feminist consciousness in place so that you can struggle against the chauvinistic attitudes that impede the revolutionary solidarity needed to build trust, particularly in a society that doesn’t have a national liberation struggle to build off of. a lot of marxfems fall short of establishing the sort of feminist consciousness that can truly hold men to account because we don’t organize amongst ourselves as women and have to tailor our feminist development to the comfort of the men we organize with, which makes it easier for them to treat us poorly while keeping us in a submissive mindset that limits our effectiveness. Revolution in imperial core countries won’t happen unless we start doing real militant work to materially address patriarchy, same with white supremacy and imperialism, and any attempts to build working class solidarity in the absence of movement building against hyper-exploitation within the working class will drive the oppressed away from the movement while encouraging male/white/western chauvinists to pursue class alienating tactics that will fail without the support of the oppressed. i think a lot of marxists bristle at the idea of this and consider it identity politics, but there’s a way to promote these things to the working class that comes from a solidarity building mindset rather than allowing itself to be diluted into non-threatening mush or resorting to the alienating insular bullshit the left is marketing itself with at the moment
#i’m starting to come around to a modified form of separatist politics lol#we’ve got to figure things out for ourselves before we can expect to have the tools needed to work with men#we can’t do shit with the women’s movement the way it is
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service with a smile!
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader
Word Count: 1,726 words
Warnings: Swearing, violence, verbally/physically abusive customer, reader has a brief panic attack
eccedentesiast (noun): someone who fakes a smile
It’s six-thirty in the evening at the Baratie. The customers are ravenous, the kitchen is in the weeds, and you’re wearing a snake-like trail into the floor of the restaurant delivering drinks and dishes when the sound of snapping fingers pricks your ears.
“Waiter!”
Twisting your neck around, you spot the man at table four waving you over.
You quickly make your way to him with a bright smile. “Yes? What can I do for you?”
The man gestures to the plate in front of him, disgust clear on his face. “I said I wanted my steak medium-well.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” you reply. Leaning over slightly to check, your eyebrows knit together as you stare at the slice of meat pushed to the edge of the plate. “… It seems to be medium-well, though?”
“No,” he snaps. Light glints sharply off the many rings on his fingers as he pointedly prods at the center of the slice with his knife. “It still has some pink in it, see? I can’t eat this.”
“Well, sir,” you mentally roll your eyes up to the ceiling, though your gaze remains attentive and apologetic, “Here in our restaurant, medium-well steak will still have a little bit of pink. We could bring it back to the kitchen and have it cooked until it’s well done, if you’d like. It’d take no more than five minutes.”
“I don’t like well done steak. It’s too dry.”
Oh, god.
“I see. Well, we could still bring it back to the kitchen and see what the cooks can do.”
The man clicks his tongue. “Fucking hell.” Sneering, he drops his steak knife and pushes the plate towards you. “Fine. Go. I’m not paying if you guys fuck it up again.”
“We’ll do our best.” Fuck you.
Nodding deferentially, you scoop up the plate and head off to the kitchen, smiling all the while.
“Carne!” you announce after you kick open the door, setting the steak on the pass and leaning over to catch the attention of the rotisseur. “Customer at table four says your steak is shit.”
“What?!”
“He wants it medium-well with no pink at all.” Carne swears and stomps over to fetch the steak. A slight movement in the corner catches your eye, and you look over at Sanji, who’s already looking at you as he pulls his suit jacket on. “Hey, chef.” A genuine grin stretches your face. “The old man kick you off the line again?”
“He slated my mixed paella,” Sanji replies, no small amount of irritation in his voice. It melts away quickly as he smirks and sends a wink your way. “But I’ll be seeing more of you out there, so maybe I should count my blessings.”
“There’s certainly one at table four right now.” Balancing three plates for table seven on one arm, you grab the fourth with your free hand.
Sanji hurries to hold the door open for you, frowning through the thank-you that flies from your mouth. “What else did they say?” he asks seriously. “Do they need to be kicked out?”
Despite the rush, your heart finds the time to skip a beat.
“Nah, not yet,” you assure. “Now hurry up!”
“[Y/n] –”
“Bye!”
As you pass him, your head held high, you hear Sanji sigh and chuckle in resignation.
You deliver the plates and check back with guests who have already gotten their food before returning to the kitchen. Table four’s well done medium-well steak with no pink is on the pass already when you go in, freshly garnished and by all appearances even more gorgeous than before.
Raising your eyebrows, you whistle. “Thanks, Carne! Love you!” you shout over the din of cooks before grabbing the plate.
“Kiss my ass!”
You laugh. One of the other waiters wishes you luck and pats your back as you exit.
You waste only a brief moment just outside the kitchen to take a deep breath and scan the restaurant. Sanji is at the far end, refilling waters and likely charming the eyelashes off a table of giggling young women. You’d kill to be on either side right now.
Closing your eyes, you recite the Baratie’s fourth employee guideline and then smile, stepping out into the dining area and walking over to table four.
The customer is God.
“Here you go, sir,” you say, placing the plate before him. “I’m sor –”
“This looks like shit.” The man hardly glances at the steak Carne had so painstakingly reprepared, choosing instead to glare at you. “I waited five whole minutes for this?”
The customer. Is. God.
Your teeth hurt. “Our rotisseur put in his best work to fix the mistake.”
“Well, he should be fired on the spot.”
“If you would just try it –”
The man suddenly slams his fist on the table and stands up, his face red, grabbing the attention of the surrounding guests as he throws the plate onto the ground.
“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, WAITER!”
His hairy, meaty hand seizes the collar of your uniform.
Your perfect smile slips off your face.
“Get your hand off of me.”
The man doesn’t listen. He raises his other fist and swings it at your mouth instead.
You pull him down and knee him in the face before he even realizes that you’ve dodged.
Crunch. Warm blood splatters over your carefully ironed slacks.
“Augh!”
The man’s hands fly up to his nose. You shove him face-down to the ground and press your knee into his back, yanking his head up by his hair.
“I asked you to taste your fucking steak,” you breathe, tightening your grip. “I didn’t ask you to FUCKING TOUCH ME. OKAY?”
His groan bubbles quietly through bloodied teeth.
Your ears ring. You’re cold and your head is numb and your heart is racing, and you’re breathing, but it feels like you’re not getting enough air. You don’t move a muscle.
Above you, muffled and buried underwater, someone calls out your name.
A hand rubs your back gently. Your name is murmured again, and you finally blink, slowly twisting around to look up at Sanji.
“I think he got the message, sweetheart. Come on. The old man’ll take care of the rest.”
He places his hand over yours, coaxing you to let go of the man’s hair. It hurts, but you do it, and Sanji helps you stand afterwards.
“Come on,” he whispers. “We’ll wash dishes together until you feel better.”
“You’re supposed to be waiting tables,” you mumble. Your mouth is dry.
“You know I hate doing that anyway.”
He tucks you underneath his arm. You push your face into the front of his suit and smell the traces of his last smoke break as he guides you to the kitchen.
Washing dishes is a ritual you’ve had since you were a kid. While Sanji’s punishments had been anything that prevented him from cooking or flirting, yours were limited to washing dishes. You loathed the chore, and Zeff took note and made sure to stick you at the sinks whenever you got into trouble. You’d curse and splash and generally be a pain in the ass to the rest of the kitchen, but you scrubbed the dishes pretty damn well, and within an hour or two your anger would fizzle out and you’d be back to your usual self.
Over time, the chore became something that grounded you whenever you weren’t feeling too hot. It kept your hands busy, and sometimes Sanji would join you to chat and complain until Zeff decided that the two of you were just a little too happy in his kitchen and kicked one or both of you out.
“Washing or drying?” Sanji asks. He had tossed his jacket somewhere while you were thinking and is now holding out an apron for you to take.
“Washing.” You slip the apron on and roll up your sleeves.
Nobody bothers you or Sanji as you start working. You use a generous amount of soap, let the water heat up until it almost scalds your skin, and scrub each plate and bowl and utensil and glass until they’re better than new. Then you hand it off to Sanji, who carefully dries each item and puts them aside.
Eventually, you find your voice again.
“Sorry you had to come over and get me. I thought I could handle it.”
“No, I should’ve been there before it got too bad. I’m sorry.” Sanji meets your eyes, and his gaze softens into something sad. “What happened?”
Your shrug is so small you almost don’t feel it. “I was fine when he was yelling at me. But when he grabbed me by the collar, I just – I dunno. It surprised me real bad.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. Just wrinkled my shirt.” You bend your knee, feeling the stiffness of dried blood on your slacks, and pout. “And stained my pants.”
“He didn’t even land a hit, at the very least,” Sanji says. A corner of his mouth tilts up. “I’ve got to say, I’m quite impressed.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Really? I impressed Black Leg Sanji by kneeing a customer in the face?”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you fight a customer. You usually calm them right down.”
“Well, this one was a real shitbag. I’m surprised I haven’t had to do it sooner, to be honest.”
He shakes his head. “It shouldn’t be something you should ever have to do,” he tells you. “Not while I’m here. If I ever see that bastard again, I swear I’ll kill him.”
“My hero,” you say with a smile, kicking up one foot.
Sanji winks at you and, with towel and dish in hand, leans over slightly to kiss the side of your head. It’s an innocent and playful thing he’s started doing as of late, and it certainly has no underlying meaning whatsoever, so you make a show of scrunching up your face like you always do. You swear that your face only feels hot because of the steam.
“Until my dying breath,” he says softly.
Oh. It’s not so funny anymore.
You flick bubbles at him and resume washing the dishes. Sanji grins and resumes drying, and if you scoot closer until you feel his arm brush yours with every movement, well – that’s nobody’s business but yours.
#aesthetic words prompt list#opla#one piece#sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#opla sanji#one piece live action#opla fanfiction#one piece fanfiction#reader insert#i've never worked at a restaurant rip#but to be fair the baratie lets the staff beat up terrible customers so accuracy doesn't have to be a priority here right ??#live chef reaction while sanji and reader wash dishes lol
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Can you pay my bills?
summary: cockwarming chris is too distracting.
warnings: smut, language, pp
pairing: chris sturniolo x reader
@strniolosworld❤️
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i get home from running errands all day.
the guys are always busy and im basically freeloading as chris’ girlfriend so i take care of chores and shit. (women duties yk?(jk please dont come for me))
i drop the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and begin putting things away.
“CHRIS?!” i call him upstairs to help me.
“WHAT?!” he yells back.
“WATCH YOUR MOUTH!! COME HERE AND HELP ME!!”
i hear him stomping up the stairs quickly. he comes up behind me, hand on my waist he kisses my cheek.
“Sorry, ma.” he slaps my ass then begins grabbing shit off the counter and putting it away.
“Alright I gotta go fill out some checks and make some payments, ok?”
“Noooo..” he puts the last item in the pantry and grabs me. pulling me closer he says, “I need yooou.”
“You need me to pay the bills or we wont have internet or water.” i giggle feeling a bulge in his pants pressing against my thigh.
i kiss him softly trying to get out of his grasp.
“Im serious, baby.” he grabs my wrist. “Just let me fuck you, please?” his whining finally gets to me.
“Fuck. Fine, how about I sit on you while I make the payments?”
i watch the smile grow on his face. “Yes please.”
i drag him downstairs to his room and we sit at his desk i open my file cabinet and grab the checks and my address book. (ik it’s old ppl shit but i loooove paying bills on paper)
“Ok baby. Pull down your pants and sit down.”
he excitedly does exactly as i told him. i look at his dick, if i had time i would love to fuck myself on it but right now i’ve got things to do, other than him.
i get right in his face and smash my lips against him. i kiss him roughly for a few more seconds before pulling away to spit right on his cock.
“Shit.” he lets out a whimper.
i pull my pants all the way off slowly, teasing him just a little. he runs both hands across my ass as im bending over.
“You’re so beautiful ma.” he moans out, “Cant wait to feel you around my cock.” without hesitation i line myself up with him before lowering myself onto his length.
i cant help but cry a little, “Shit.”
“You feel so good.” he wraps his arms around me hands landing on both of my breasts, he begins massaging them.
moaning from the feeling i put my hands on top of his, “Don’t distract me, Chris.”
“Sorry, baby.” i can just hear the smug little smile in his voice.
i grab my papers and start filling them out. about 5 minutes go by when i genuinely forget im in his lap with his dick inside me.
as soon as i remember, i feel my walls clench around him. his head rests on my shoulder and he starts kissing down my neck.
“Chris.” i say, trying to ignore how good his lips are making me feel.
“Yes, ma?” he continues kissing.
“Chris you need to stop.”
he stops kissing my neck and instead starts grinding underneath me.
“Fuck.. chris- Chris, stop.”
“Why baby? Feels so good.” i can feel his warm breath against my neck now as he moans out with every movement.
“I know, my love. But I cant focus.”
his hands run up the front of me, from my stomach to my tits then finally his left hand is grasping my throat from behind me.
“Just let me fuck you already.” he harshly thrusts into me once.
“FUCK!! ok ok- fuck fine.”
he picks me up guiding me up and down on his cock. the pace is unreal i can’t even feel my legs at this point. i cant help but scream out his name.
the way he stretches me out hurts but i wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“CHRIS- Fuck, chris!”
“Feels good huh? My big dick making you feel good?” he lets out what’s almost a whisper in my ear before he continues groaning with everything upward thrust.
“Chris, baby. So close fuck.”
“Cum for me baby. Let me feel you cum for me.”
i scream out one last time before finishing all over him, my cum spills out onto his chair underneath us.
“Fuck baby, so good for me. Gonna let me cum in you?”
“Yes please please chris..”
once his name leaves my mouth i feel him twitch then shoot his cum up inside of me.
“Shit.” he says all fucked out, leaning back in his chair.
“You’re gonna have to finish these.”
“Why?” chris jumps back up.
we both moan at the sudden movement.
“Im too tired, Chris.”
“Leave it to Nick.”
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i honestly hate this so yeah sorry, love you 🫶🏼
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo#christopher owen sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris girls
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How About a Nuke?
Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII
Series Masterlist
Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader
A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke?
Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.
“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried.
“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen.
“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”
God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you.
Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway.
Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”
“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph.
Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk.
“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”
“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”
“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”
He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”
“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”
You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over.
Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern.
“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”
You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.”
He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should.
When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage.
He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth.
“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled.
“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken.
You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass.
He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest.
You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds.
“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”
Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled.
“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means.
“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach.
You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with.
He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”
He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”
You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast.
“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again.
“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up.
“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl.
“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”
“Cooper,” you whisper.
“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”
Oh shit.
Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks.
You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem.
You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself.
“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous.
You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies.
The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose.
What the fuck?
He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t.
“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder.
Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.
She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy.
He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now.
He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands.
His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign.
“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs.
He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible.
He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it.
You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face.
Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table.
You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough.
He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”
“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.
“Everything alright?”
You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake.
You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better, but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him.
Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now.
He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?”
“I was just wondering what that means for us?”
He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that.
“That was a mistake,” you muttered.
“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach.
You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse.
“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway.
“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again.
She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man.
Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul.
He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her.
Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.
He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.
“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”
Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”
“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip.
He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up.
She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”
He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside.
“Please-”
“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room.
“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on.
He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought.
“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open.
“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.
Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her.
“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms.
He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it.
Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower.
She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further.
He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this.
She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”
He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”
There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”
“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”
She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room.
He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”
He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”
He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”
She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”
They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in.
They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before.
He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out.
He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him.
“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed.
“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”
He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again.
That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane.
Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot.
She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”
“Relax, we’re at the compound.”
She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted.
He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward.
“What’s wrong with you now?”
“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face.
“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games.
“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”
He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”
“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”
He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again.
Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?
No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore.
He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”
She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”
“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now.
He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did.
She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention.
Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”
She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty.
She’ll be better off here.
He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”
She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass.
He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be.
end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#fallout x reader#fallout tv series#cooper howard#the ghoul
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I’ve been binge reading all your OP works this morning and they’re so good! 😫 ❤️🔥 could I make a request for the monster trio making reader squirt for the first time ☺️
A/N: Aww Thank you! :D You’re so sweet and alrrrriighttyyyy👁️👁️ enjoy!
Monster Trio Making You Squirt For The First Time Headcanons (NSFW)
Black Fem Reader in Mind
CW: Overstimulation, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Squirting
Sanji
He had a goal to do this since you both started having sex
It’s canon he reads porn, okay idc what y’all say those magazines in his locker was at least 70% playboy/porno books. So he has seen women do many things but the one thing he always was fanscinated with and wanted to try was to make a woman squirt.
Now that he has you and you guys were constantly having sex when readily available, Sanji always makes it his goal to make you squirt
He tries a lot with his tongue, his fingers, his Dick, he doesn’t care he just wants to be graced with the view of you releasing your sweet juices on him.
It’s been 2 months and he hasn’t been able to achieve his goal and it’s been starting to bug him.
He knows he is still satisfying you regardless but he won’t be until he figures out how to make it happen
He almost gave up when he found one of Robin’s more “adult” books and read about the woman’s body. And he figured out where your special little G-spot was so he decided to try it out tonight after dinner
“Sanji…” you moaned out, you were on top of the Kitchen counter, bottoms thrown across the clean floor and your pretty blonde in between your thighs, “We could …ah-have done this in my room—-uh!”
He wasn’t even listening to your pleads which was unusual on his part but he was too too focused. He began to scissor you and suckle on your swollen clit for some time now causing your hips to buck in his mouth.
Sanji then grabbed your inner thighs with both hands squeezing them as he decides to use his tongue to fuck your little hole, it wasn’t long until his tongue brushed onto a sensitive spot inside your walls making you cry out his name.
“Fuck—Sanji there!”
Finally, he made you squirt, the feeling felt so weird yet so good cumming in his mouth like that and like the dirty boy he is he lapped you up clean.
“That’s all I wanted from you, my love.” He cupped your fucked out face smiling at you before letting you taste yourself on his mouth.
Zoro
When it happens he jerks back and thinks you pissed on him
He has never made you squirt before and you mentioned how you never had to done to you so he always kept it in the back of his mind to make you squirt but he didn’t make it the main focus when you both have sex
However today he touched a new area inside you and you just let go without warning
He was fingering you and it just happened
“DID YOU JUST—?!”
“NO NO! I SQUIRTED ZORO!”
He looked down at the wet mess you made on his sheets and forearm, “You never done that before have you?”
“No…but you knew that.”
“I know but…I didn’t think you’d actually end up doing it you drenched me all I was doing was fucking you with my fingers.”
“You make me feel good asshole what do you think was ganna happen…”
You felt his mood shift, he almost smirked at you the same way he does after an enemy attacks him and it made you sit up, but he just pushed you back down as he kissed you harshly on the lips with his hand around your throat.
“So I make you feel that good huh…” His voice was deep in your ear, almost above a growl, you felt his hand caress the side of your naked body making you shiver, “You wanna do that for me again?”
“I can’t control it Zo—AH!”
He pushed your thighs to press against your chest and used his index and middle finger to make vicious back and fourth movements on your untouched clit, spitting on it to lubricate it more.
“That’s okay, I’ll teach this pussy of mine to squirt in command soon enough.”
Luffy
He’s shocked but doesn’t care too much and keeps going
He really doesn’t mind how messy sex get as long as nobody shits, farts, or throws up
However you never squirted before so it felt weird
“Wa-wait—ah Luffy wait!” You Held his shoulders to push his back from your neck, “I—I um..”
Luffy felt the rush of warm liquid hit his lower abs, but he didn’t pay much mind to it until he looked down,
“Did you pee? It’s okay we can—“
“N-no I didn’t I..I squirted.”
He looked at you dumb founded and then sat back and laughed, “YOU WHAT?!”
“LUFFY!” You shoved your face into the pillow feeling embarrassed, he was tickled to death to know about your new “feature” when having sex.
“So You’re Like a little Water gun, huh.”
“STOP IT!”
“I’m just kidding Y/N!” He pulled the pillow off of you to peck your pouty lips, “It’s okay. As Long as it didn’t hurt i don’t care….it didn’t hurt right?”
“No it didn’t ….it was actually the opposite…you…made me feel really good.” You mumbled, afraid of stroking his ego somehow.
And you did.
“Well then let’s try it again! I wanna see it happen this time!”
“Wait what—LUFFY NO!”
Luffy readjust his cock back into you since it was slipping out and rest your ankles on his shoulder, “Okay so just do what you did last time, okay?”
“Luffy i can contro—AH!”
It was too late to reason with the man he wanted to see you squirt and he was going to do just that with his Dick and tongue all night if he had too.
Because now that’s his new favorite thing to see you do.
#one piece#TimikosMonsterTrio#one piece headcanons#one piece smut#black reader#one piece x female reader#sanji#sanjionepiece#sanji imagine#sanji x black reader#sanji x reader#sanji smut#one piece x black!reader#zoro headcanons#female reader#x female reader#zoro hcs#black foot sanji#one piece scenario#luffy headcanons#luffy smut#luffy#ronoroa zoro#x chubby reader#luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy
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Hmm so that post about normalizing male love did indeed come from someone who’s beliefs come from a place I don’t really agree with, and in the interest of that, I wanted to quote someone else who sees the problem from a lens more aligned with progressive thinking: bell hooks.
From The Will to Change
We construct a culture where male pain can have no voice, where male hurt cannot be named or healed. It is not just men who do not take their pain seriously. Most women do not want to deal with male pain if it interferes with the satisfaction of female desire. When feminist movement led to men’s liberation, including male exploration of “feelings,” some women mocked male emotional expression with the same disgust and contempt as sexist men. Despite all the expressed feminist longing for men of feeling, when men worked to get in touch with feelings, no one really wanted to reward them. In feminist circles men who wanted to change were often labeled narcissistic or needy. Individual men who expressed feelings were often seen as attention seekers, patriarchal manipulators trying to steal the stage with their drama.
Some highlights as to how patriarchy is also negative towards men/masculinity:
The unhappiness of men in relationships, the grief men feel about the failure of love, often goes unnoticed in our society precisely because the patriarchal culture really does not care if men are unhappy.
Patriarchal mores teach a form of emotional stoicism to men that says they are more manly if they do not feel, but if by chance they should feel and the feelings hurt, the manly response is to stuff them down, to forget about them, to hope they go away.
I was gonna slap on the usual disclaimer about male privilege and how patriarchy affects men/masculinity and women/femininity differently but I don’t think the usual disclaimers really work anymore because adherence to a binary and refusing to acknowledge the intersectional realities of privilege are kinda inadequate in reality, aren’t they? It’s the same shit that takes socialization and conflates it with biological essentialism when reality is not everyone is socialized in the same way — but cultural, and specifically patriarchal, systems have a way of punishing/discouraging certain behaviors based on perceived traits both in terms of external AND internal expectations. A young trans masc, for instance, is not ‘socialized’ female prior to coming out/transitioning to whatever degree in the same sense a cis girl is — the external factors still influence expectations, but the two are engaging with it differently as their internal perceptions alter perspectives, if that makes sense. To put it another way, my engagement with femininity from a feminine lens always felt very wrong — engaging with it again now that I am more comfortable and have embraced my masculinity feels so much better.
But to ground this again in bell hooks, consider:
We need to highlight the role women play in perpetuating and sustaining patriarchal culture so that we will recognize patriarchy as a system women and men support equally, even if men receive more rewards from that system. Dismantling and changing patriarchal culture is work that men and women must do together.
You can’t change a system by adhering to ANY of its methodologies. Denying men emotional growth, expression, and the ability to communicate their feelings in healthy ways IS the same method used by the patriarchy — yes, even if it is a woman doing it.
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Puppy Love
Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 6
Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?
Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller
Warnings: Smut and drama, ex-boyfriend breaking restraining order, protective Sy, language.
MINORS DNI! Must be 18+
I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.
This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!
Part 5
I’m half asleep, half-awake when I feel movement across my chest. I’m still too deep to realize it might be a threat before I feel gentle lips press against my stomach and I groan. My groan brought me closer towards consciousness and I opened my eyes with a start to see Emma’s beautiful blues staring right back at me from my stomach. I relax as I watch her press gentle kisses across my abs as she makes her way lower. Her body is hidden by the sheet but still accentuated her ass up in the air. She reaches for my morning wood and looks at me for permission. I sleepily nod at her and she immediately engulfs my cock into her mouth.
“Fucking shit, sugar.” I rasp, my voice laced with sleep as I wrap my hands in her hair. She creates the perfect pace as she bobs up and down before she gags on my cock. I bite my fist so that I can gather my wits without screaming the place down. With one hand on my shaft, the other around my nuts, she continues working on me and just a few minutes later I’m spurting my seed right down her throat. She swallows greedily and sucks me thoroughly through my release until the oversensitivity has me spasming. She kisses her way back up my body only to lay against me and place a kiss on my lips.
“Good morning.” She says sweetly.
“It sure as hell is now. You sure know how to wake me up.”
“I was hungry and needed my breakfast.” She whispers seductively and I flip over on top of her.
“Well, I’m starving so if you don’t mind, I’d like some more of that peach I tried last night.” I say before I make my way down her body and gaze upon her perfect pussy.
“I can’t believe you actually like eating women out.” She whispers.
“Wrong, I love eating YOU out. You are my favorite dessert. Now let me get to it, sugar.” She squeals as I dive right in. I nurse off of her clit and slide two fingers in and in no time at all Emma is moaning and squirming.
“Fucking hell, Austin. I’m gonna cum!” She shouts as she grinds against my tongue. I hold her hips still as I work her towards her release. She cums exuberantly with a moan and her essence soaks my face with the most sensual taste. We lay back and I pull Emma into my arms.
“You’re unreal at that. Like you should write a book so that all the men in the world can learn to do that.” She says and I chuckle.
“Why would I give away trade secrets? I had to learn these techniques on my own. That’s like giving away a recipe that’s been in your family for years.”
“But at the expense of women’s pleasure all around the world.” She tries to convince me.
“You’re one to talk. You’re quite skilled in the oral sex department as well.” I say and she blushes bright red.
“What time is it anyway?” I ask.
“A little after eight. Got somewhere to be?” I blanche.
“Seriously? It’s that late? I don’t have anywhere to be but I don’t think I’ve slept past 6:30am since I was in high school. Army kinda breaks that habit but you musta really wore me out.”
“I’m glad you slept so well. Seemed like you needed it but I couldn’t hold myself back any longer.”
“Mmm. You can always wake me up like that, Sugar. I better get up and take Mills out. I bet he’s gotta whiz like a race horse. ”
Emma giggles. “I already took him out. I had to pee so I took Aika and Mills out after and then came back to wake you up.”
“You went outside naked?”
“No! I grabbed one of your t-shirts.” She tilted her head in the direction of my dresser.
“Now that’s a sight I’d like to see. C’mon woman, let me make ya some breakfast.” I tell her with a light smack to her ass.
She climbs out of bed and I watch her saunter towards me as I open my underwear drawer and throw on a pair of boxers. She reaches past me, grabs herself a pair of my boxers before throwing on my favorite red DILLIGAF shirt. Those letters have never looked so good as they do now spread across her voluptuous tits. It’s so large on her that it covers her ass and you can’t even tell she has boxer shorts on under it. She runs her fingertips down my pecs and abs while gently scratching before she turns and heads down the stairs. I’m hot on her tail as I quickly lift her up bridal style and set her on the countertop. I start grabbing the ingredients that I’ll need for eggs, bacon, and biscuits. Emma turns around behind her and starts making coffee.
“Your grandma lets you make canned biscuits?” She chuckles and I smirk.
“She never taught me how to make homemade ones. Plus, that would take way too long. The canned ones are good.”
“Okay, I’ll agree that the canned ones are yummy but they’ve got nothing on my homemade ones. I doubt you have everything I need, but next time I’ll make some.”
“Next time, huh? How presumptuous.” I tut.
“Shut up.” She playfully kicks at my butt and I arch my eyebrow at her. Emma works on readying the biscuits for the oven and when the coffee brews, she pours us both a cup. I smile at the domesticity that engulfs us at this moment.
We eat our breakfast in comfortable conversation and I still can’t believe how well I slept. I feel more rested than I have in months.
“What would you be doing if I wasn’t here right now?” Emma brought me from my thoughts.
“Honestly, I’d probably be working out, or I’d be building something on the property. I might be out in the woods with the dogs.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you.” She replied.
“Trust me Sugar, I don’t have any intentions of letting you out of my sight.”
“How about you run me back to my place so I can get a change of clothes and then we can take the dogs on a walk?”
“I don’t know that I want to take you back to your place for clothes. I like you just in this.” I reply with a smirk.
“I can’t walk around in just your shirt, mister.”
“I’d love that, actually.”
“Oh, you’d like other people looking at me practically naked?” I grumble an “over my dead body” before looking back at her.
“Well, let’s go get you some clothes and take these pups on a hike. I wanna take a look at that hot water heater and sink when I get over there though.” She looks at me and arches an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to see what needs to be fixed while you get yourself dressed. Pack yourself a little bag and I’ll bring you home Sunday night.” I tell her and she smiles and nods. I suddenly remember I’m supposed to head over for lunch at Nana’s on Sunday. “It may be really weird to ask this or way too soon, but would ya like to come with me to lunch at my grandparent’s house Sunday?” I ask her.
“Are you sure they wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to intrude on family time.” She replies.
“My nana would be happier than a pig in sunshine, Sugar. She’s been wanting to meet the new vet in town.” I tell her truthfully.
“They won’t think it’s weird that you’re bringing me though? I mean, we’ve technically only had two dates.” Emma admonishes.
“My nana may be a bit nosy, but they respect the fact that I’m grown and am gonna do what I want to. If anything, she’ll likely try and convince me to put a ring on your finger the second she meets you.” I chuckle. “That woman has been asking for me to give her great grandkids since I was 21. I swear at this point she’d be okay with me getting someone pregnant outta wedlock just so she can have some grandbabies. She don’t mean any harm by it though, so don’t worry.”
“Well, maybe one day she’ll get her wish. For now, I hope she’ll be okay with you introducing me as your friend.” We get dressed, Emma putting on her clothes from last night, and load up in my truck with the dogs in the backseat to head toward her home. When we get there, we get inside and I take a look around. The house is decorated somewhat plainly and mostly white and grey with little hints of teal blue throughout. I spot teal throw pillows on the couch, a blue painting on the wall, blue utensil canister in the kitchen. It’s understated, simple and clean, and like it.
“Point me in the direction of the water heater, Sugar.” She leads me to the laundry room and shows me the water heater.
“I’m going to be in my bedroom changing, if you need me.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Darlin’. I gotta take a look at this water heater.” I smirk and pat her ass as she walks off, the two dogs hot on her trail. Aika is very interested in smelling her new surroundings and Mills just seems happy to be included. I chuckle as I watch him clumsily trail down the hallway, goofy little thing.
The water heater is old, but seems to be in working condition. I turn up the heat dial on the water heater since I think it’s too low to see if that helps her not run out of hot water and make my way to the kitchen sink. She said it was working a little funny so I take a look at it. It doesn’t drain correctly at all and see that she’s bought some drano to try and release whatever’s clogging it. I’d bet my last paycheck that the previous owner poured grease down the sink and that’s the problem. People oughta know better. I can come back with a drain snake but I’ll likely have to replace the pipes underneath to clear out whatever is clogging the p-trap. While I’m looking at the sink, I hear somebody knocking loudly on the door.
“Sy? Can you get that?” I hear Emma ask from what I assume is her bedroom. Hopefully I can see that room before we leave.
“Sure, darlin’.”
“Emma? Are you in there?” I hear someone yell with another round of knocks as I slowly stand up and make my way to the door. Aika makes her way directly to me on high alert. She seemed to be more alert simply because of the new surroundings, but her demeanor now shows she’s on guard.
I halfway open the door to see a man with brown slicked back hair, and dressed somewhat preppy in a button up and slacks that look a bit too small. I immediately get a douche vibe from this guy who looks at me with a mixture of shock and an air of uppity disdain.
“Can I help you?” I ask the stranger.
“Oh, I thought this was Emma Miller’s address. I must have been told wrong... but wait, that’s her jeep in the driveway. Who are you?”
“I’m Sy, but I think I should be askin’ who you are.” I arch my eyebrow at him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He mutters under his breath with an eye roll. “Oh, um. I’m Colin. Is Emma here?” My stare hardens. Colin… is this the ex boyfriend? Seriously?
“Sy? I’m ready! Who’s at the door?” I hear Emma come around the corner toward the hallway in her hiking outfit and instinctively close the door a bit more so Colin can’t see her.
“One moment.” I tell the guy who looks beyond irritated that I’m not the 5’6” blonde he was hoping for.
“Remind me sugar, don’t you have a restraining order on that douche bag ex of yours?” I mutter lowly so he can’t hear.
“…yeah, why?”
“Might wanna call the cops and add stalking to the charges.” I murmur back to her.
“EMMA!” Colin yells and pushes hard against the now cracked door that I have my foot pressed against to stop it from opening. The door barely budges.
Emma steps back with a panicked look. “What the fuck is he doing here? How did he find out where I live?” She whispered, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Emma, just let me talk to you and then I’ll leave. I just need you to hear me out. Five minutes, I swear.” Colin bellows from the door.
“You need to step back.” I grunt murderously and push the door shut throwing the lock on it. Colin immediately begins yelling Emma’s name and banging on the door.
“The rest of the doors and windows locked?” I ask and she nods. The poor thing looks petrified.
“Want me to get rid of him?” I ask her gruffly.
“I… I can’t even think. Should I call the cops? I don’t want him in my house. I can’t believe he showed up here. I don’t know how he even found me. What if he shows up again and I’m alone?” I hear her ask more to herself than to me. I reach for her shaking hands that she now has framing her face in shock.
“Baby, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right? Trust me? My cousin is a police officer, I’ll send him a text and have him come out. If you want to listen to him, it seems like now’s a good time while I’m here and Walt on his way. It’ll at least keep him here until the cops show up.” Colin bangs on the door again startling Emma. I look down at my phone and send Walt a text with an SOS and Emma’s address. I wait a moment and Walt responds with an “omw” text. Thank God for Walt. I need to buy him a round next time we go out.
“You don’t have to worry. I can get rid of him and you don’t have to see him or say a word if you want. You are safe, Sugar.” I tell her and kiss her temple. Emma wraps her arms around me and I can hear her heart racing.
“I guess I’ll see what he wants. I wouldn’t put it past him to show back up when you’re not here. Don’t leave me?” She asks nervously.
“Not a chance, darlin’.” I wait a moment and open the door and Colin steps back as I push my way towards him trying to look over my shoulder at Emma and we walk on the front porch with her angled behind me.
“Emma, just let me explain myself. Do you mind?” He looks at me and scoffs. “I sure do. Say what you need to say before I kick your sorry ass all the way back to Bama.” He sneers at me before ignoring me and looking at Emma.
“Listen, Scarlett and I are done. We broke up and I realized I was wrong. I want you back, baby.” Emma scoffs.
“Not a chance in hell, Colin. You’ve made your bed and now you can lay in it. Is that all?” I watch Emma out of the corner of my eye as I stand firmly in front of Colin. I cross my arms across my chest and flex my biceps just to make my muscles that much more menacing.
“Don’t do this. I still love you and I know you still love me. Just give me another chance. We can even buy a house and get married like you always wanted.”
“Oh, Colin, how generous of you.” Emma states with pure sarcasm. “Leaving your mistress to finally commit to me after cheating on me repeatedly and without shame for months while I worked tirelessly to repair our relationship. You’re practically prince charming.” She sneers. “You tried to convince me that I was crazy for suspecting something was going on when in reality, I was right. How dare you show up to my new life and think you have any business even being in my presence. You hurt me not just emotionally, but physically. You are pathetic and I regret every moment spent with you. I now know what it feels like to be valued and appreciated, and I never want to see you again. Go home. Go back to Scarlett or whatever other tramp you find and wallow in your unhappiness. Leave me alone.” I feel the pride for Emma radiate from my body. I can tell that she has been bottling this up for who knows how long and I hope she feels relief at finally getting to say her peace.
“I know you’re angry, but you’re talking crazy. I took you on romantic vacations and dates and treated you so well. You can’t tell me you regret all of the good times we had. We’ve known each other our whole lives and I’m not allowed one mistake? Besides, you were working late and never home. You were neglecting me and our relationship. You’re really going to throw away the history that we have for some meathead like this?” Colin says while pointing his thumb at me and I growl deep inside my chest. He can say whatever he wants to me but I will not allow him to say anything else patronizing to her.
Emma stands straighter. “He is more of a man than you’ll ever be. And, just for your information, I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need or want you in my life. I’m happier now than I ever have been.”
I see Walter’s truck rounding the corner followed by a squad car with its lights on but no sirens and breathe a sigh of relief. I could easily take this fucker if I needed too, but I’d rather let the law handle it.
“You called the cops on me again, you stupid bitch?” Colin screams when he sees the lights coming toward him. Emma immediately steps back and I lurch in front of her. I’ve easily got about three inches of height and at least thirty pounds of muscle on this guy, and I almost dare him to throw the first punch. I’d love to smash this fucker to the ground.
My fists are so tight that my knuckles are white as I look him in the eyes and with my Captain’s voice. “Don’t you dare fucking speak to her like that again. You’re the one breaking the law by being here.” I growl and Walt comes flying over to me. The cop he brought with him, Justin, is also someone I’ve known my whole life. Justin immediately grabs Colin and pulls him toward the cop car to question him. I can hear Colin’s whiny voice immediately lying and saying that Emma invited him here to talk and I was interrupting.
“Walt.” I grit through my tense jaw in greeting to my cousin who is looking at Emma and then back at me. Walt responds with a stern nod before looking to Emma.
“I’m Walter Marshall.” He greets Emma and shakes her hand and she introduces herself.
“I’m so sorry you’ve had to come out here.” She apologizes.
“It’s not a problem. Tell me what’s going on?”
“That’s my ex-boyfriend, Colin Wright. I had to get a restraining order from him in Alabama before I moved out here. He got violent with me several months ago when I changed the locks on my apartment and the police were called. I don’t know how he found me, but he just showed up at my house. I’ve only lived here for about a month and he shouldn’t know where I live. My parents and best friend are the only ones who should have my address. His uncle is an officer in Alabama and got him out of trouble last time.”
“Okay, do you have the restraining order with you? I’d like to look it over but it should still apply. Violating a restraining order is a class A misdemeanor and should be difficult for anyone to get him out of, although it doesn’t constitute much jail time unfortunately.”
Walt follows us inside as Emma retrieves the legal documents to show them to Walter. I’m silently seething as she explains the situation. I relax slightly when I hear Walter tell Justin to read him his rights and book him for violating a protection order. Emma seems so embarrassed even though she has done nothing wrong. I just want to scoop her up and take her back to my house and hold her so that she feels safe again.
“Alright, we’ve arrested him but now that he has your address, I suggest you get some security at your house. An alarm system, video doorbell camera and a few surveillance cameras around the property would be a good idea to keep you from being surprised in the future. If he ever shows back up, call the police. I’ll give you my personal cell phone number as well since you’re Sy’s girl.” Walter tells her.
“Thank you so much, Walter. I’m sorry we had to meet like this but it was nice to meet you.”
“You too. Sy, you good?” Walter asks.
“Yeah, man. Thanks for running out here before I smacked the guy. Appreciate it.” I tell him as we shake hands and Walter heads back to his truck. As soon as he leaves, Emma stands up and I can see her arms shaking.
“Sugar, you okay?”
“I just… I’m just so frustrated. How did this happen again? This was supposed to be a new start without him around. I don’t know how he found me and I just want to feel safe again. I’m so tired of this shit tainting everywhere I go. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before the town starts gossiping about the new vet’s man trouble.”
I gently place my hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing and pull her towards me. I hold her in my arms tightly and as soon as I do she breaks down. I hold her and rub along her back as the sobs slow down.
“Darlin’ you need to not think about any of that. Who gives a shit what other people think? You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re just trying to live your life. You are safe here, and I’ll do my damnest to show you that. Now, you want to go to my house or you still feel like going on a hike?” I ask and she whispers, “nature might help me calm down” into my neck. “Alright, how about after our hike we go and get you some security stuff for the house. I can install it tonight and we can order some dinner here. That sound okay?” She just nods and I give her a gentle kiss. We load up the dogs in my truck and I take her to one of my favorite trails to walk Aika. It’s not very well known and about half way through there is a stream that runs through it which is a perfect rest spot. I notice Emma seems lost in her thoughts and I just keep quiet. I know she needs time to process everything and I want to be a quiet presence to help her but not overwhelm her. We’d barely spoken by the time we got to the stream and I’m starting to really wonder what’s going on in her mind. I let the dog’s romp around in the shallow water as I point to a large rock to rest on. Emma sits beside me and I wrap my arms around her.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.
“Oh gosh, just trying to process what just happened. I’m sorry I’m so complicated. You were probably just looking for something easy and fun and I’m just a mess with a ton of baggage.” She places her head in her hands and chuckles without humor.
“Sugar, I got more baggage than you could imagine. You’re not complicated, you’re just human with human problems. If I was looking for something easy, I would’ve fucked and ducked, but I’m not interested in that. I’ve had my share of one-night stands but you…darlin’ you are different in the best way.”
Part 7
Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal@kingliam2019@syversonswife@identity2212@starfirewildheart@hannah9921@wa-ni@kneelforloki@cutedoxie@enchantedbytomandhenry @foxyjwls007@geralts-yenn@courtlynwriter @corrie1013 @squeezyvalkyrie@summersong69 @livisss @mayloma
#henry cavill characters#captain syverson#captain sy#captain syverson fanfiction#captain syverson fic#captain syverson smut#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfiction#captain syverson fluff
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I know I said I would shut up about hazbin, this blog isn’t really created for hazbin/helluva boss content and was created so I could write essays on whatever interested me - and I suppose hazbin is that current interest?
But for me Hazbin Hotel is the plummeting point of media literacy regarding the Bible. I know , I know “ it’s a comedy set in hell! Of course it’s not going to be THE SAME! It’s for fun! It’s Vivs own spin on hell!!”
It’s a poorly researched hell, where there is no love in the world and for some reason the devil himself and the seven sins ( bar Mammon so far ) don’t even act like sins. And if that’s the case, why are actual bad people down there when the demons REPRESENTING THE SIN aren’t even half as bad?
Dante’s inferno is a self insert AO3 fan fiction before AO3 ever existed, but Dante knew how to write and convey emotion in his poetry - he knew how to write hell and he was dedicated to representing not only hell but it’s counter part realms.
Hazbin hotel feels like a self insert AO3 fanfic show but with only the worst parts and no reward. The world building is shit. The characters aren’t developed enough and their arcs are rushed. I know they only had eight episodes, but they’re trying to do too much. Fiona and Cake had a similar amount I believe ( 8-12? I can’t remember I’m sorry) and it still stands as an amazing show exploring like six different characters in the time it needed.
Viv’s characters don’t feel personal. They don’t feel like they had the same passion or love for the source material. But worst of all, for a comedy? I don’t feel rewarded watching an episode of Charlie’s daddy issues being resolved and the king of hell signing off on her idea in roughly 22 minutes. And I don’t find it funny seeing one of my favorite characters being used in a rape joke right after we do an episode on how sexual exploitation is bad.
This is a very messily structured essay I’m aware. I’m not a huge Bible lover, I’m not a Christian, and I don’t think we should diminished the harm Christianity has done.
However, it is clear Viv has only focused on just that, the harm the Bible has brought and none of its messaging of love, none of the best literature it’s brought and none of the movements it’s genuinely impacted in a positive way. ( Lillith being used as a feminist symbol for Jewish women?)
TLDR;
I’m very tired of witnessing comedy shows set in hell with little to no care for how it’s said to be. I’m tired of media repeating itself and thinking it’s new and fresh because there’s gay people! It’s not. Viv’s hell isn’t a fun idea. Hazbin hotel isn’t fun unless you enjoy instant gratification and no work towards the reward.
#hazbin hotel critical#Hazbin hotel critique#hazbin hotel#vivzipop#rant post#essay writing#this isn’t a deep issue but one I feel is very important to talk about#idk man#I wish this show could’ve been better because I genuinely loved the pilot when it came out
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The aroace anon makes me sad and shows how fucked up the whole discourse around ace and aro spectrum identities has become. The whole concept of asexuality was originally created for people like anon: a lack of sexual desire/attraction and affirming that this is a thing that can exist without being a trauma symptom and does not mean you can’t live a full, happy life. I’m not saying it was wrong to point out that some ace people have and enjoy sex; that’s obviously true. But people have apparently hammered it in so hard that some circles think that it’s strange for ace people NOT to want sex, and now the kind of people *the term was made for* are made to feel ashamed. And what’s especially telling and disturbing to me is the people in the replies saying they must be sex-repulsed. Anon is not saying anything to indicate repulsion; they’re just not interested in sex. People seem to have forgotten what “repulsion” actually means, but saying that someone who just doesn’t experience sexual attraction is “sex repulsed” is like saying that someone who is only sexually attracted to one gender is “repulsed” by other ones. Are straight women “women-repulsed?” And what’s most fucked up about this is genuine sexual *repulsion* is usually a sign of trauma and is the thing that is supposed to be dealt with in therapy THAT THE ORIGINAL ASEXUAL ACTIVISTS WERE SAYING THEY DID NOT HAVE. We have come full circle, where the concept is now used to advocate the opposite thing it was created for. What used to be about how someone like anon is normal and what they feel is fine and not because of trauma is now used to say “no there’s still something wrong with you if you don’t want sex, and that’s definitely due to trauma.” What the fuck people… but while I think a lot of it is just broader misconceptions about ace people including ace people themselves who internalize this, I do think part of the issue is there are clearly a lot of people online who identify as ace who are likely not actually, who clearly have pretty typical allosexual levels of attraction/desire but aren’t aware of that, because they’re overthinking stuff or they *think* about that attraction a little differently from others (as an autistic person myself I feel like this is especially common for those of us on the spectrum) or just are inexperienced. And nothing wrong with taking time to figure shit out, but it’s a problem when that perspective shuts out people like anon from the movement built for them. Like even just talking about “gatekeeping” is weird, because people like anon have been usually the ones deep inside the gates! And now people on the outside are pulling them out as they elbow their way in
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Anon sounds like such a classic version of aroace. Not that other people can't also have that identity, but of all the people to try to gatekeep out of it... Sheesh!
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you're the thing that's crystal clear pt. 2
hbo!joel miller x fem!reader || masterlist
hello again!! here is the promised part two of this piece that you all ADORED. thank you all so much for all the love on that, and for inspiring me to keep writing. i love you all so deeply.
my requests for joel are open!! i want to keep writing for y'all so send me some thoughts!
warnings: SMUT (18+ please! contains f receiving oral, unprotected sex), some fluff, and a smidge of angst if you squint.
word count: 3.8k
Joel has yet to leave your side since your reunion in the bar. He won’t let you move away from his touch, much less out of his sight. He’s missed you so much that if he has to watch you walk away from him one more time, even if just for a moment, he thinks he’ll combust.
Tommy keeps looking over at the two of you, and Joel has to stop himself from pulling you impossibly closer. He doesn’t know what Tommy could possibly be thinking, but what he does know is that he doesn’t want to hear it. Tommy has always given Joel shit for the women in his life, claiming they’re too good for you man, or some other bullshit about him choosing women who are way out of his league. Before the outbreak, Joel would just laugh and shrug it off. But now, with you, he doesn’t want to hear what he already knows to be true. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the fact that you would be better off without him, even if you don’t think so. You interrupt his spiraling thoughts with a tap on his knee.
“You okay?”
He looks over at you, forcing himself to press the anguish out of his face. The look on your face gives away all of your emotions, concern and distress are painted into the creases between your eyebrows and the pout on your lips.
“Yeah. Just thinkin’,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down your back.
“Thinking about what?”
“Nothin’, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” He brushes you off, but he can feel in the way that you tense that you aren’t going to let it go that easily. He sighs as you step away from him.
“You can’t tell me not to worry about it. You coming back here, coming back to me, means that I get to worry about you again. You’ve gotta talk to me.”
Joel realizes then that he’d do anything for you. If it meant he got to keep you around, he would do anything you ask of him. He’d spill all of his deepest secrets, even give you the clothes off of his back if it meant he got to go home to you at the end of the day.
“I know sweets, I just–” he cuts himself off, taking a breath to center himself, “can we talk about this later, when we’re alone?”
You nod, patting him on the knee and scooting even closer to him. He smiles and pulls you onto him so that you are seated on one of his thighs. You gasp at the movement but quickly settle into the new position. He smiles and rests his chin on your shoulder, happily willing to sit and just listen to you talk to your friends.
After a few hours, as the sun is beginning to set, Ellie jogs up to the two of you after having been running around the commune with various kids and other animals.
“Woah! You make friends fast, Joel!” Ellie laughs, smiling at you as you remove yourself from your perch on his lap. You feel your face flush and you hear Joel as he huffs, both at Ellie’s comment and the loss of your touch.
“Mind your business, Ellie,” Joel says, pulling you back closer to him as you look down at your fidgeting hands. Still with his eyes on Ellie, Joel moves one of his hands over yours, stopping your fingers from where they were picking at each other. He gives your hands a squeeze and presses his fingers in between your palms, then snakes his hand in between yours and intertwines your fingers with his. Ellie is watching Joel’s every move, confusion evident in her features.
“No seriously, who is she?” Ellie’s voice doesn’t seem to be aggressive or angry, merely curious about the scene before her. She’d never seen Joel partake in any sort of affection, much less allow someone to sit in his lap.
“This is Y/N. Knew her before you.” Joel says shortly, and you look up at Ellie with a nervous wave. You know this girl means the world to him now, and all you can do is hope that she likes you. You don’t think that her not liking you would change Joel’s feelings toward you, but it would definitely make both of your lives even more complicated and difficult than they already are.
“Hi Ellie,” you offer, sticking your hand out as a show of good faith. She just looks at your hand for a moment before smiling and reaching out to shake it and giving you a quiet hello.
“Okay, um,” she starts once she pulls her hand back to her side, “I’m really tired so I think I’m gonna go ask Tommy where I can sleep.”
Joel nods, looking for his brother in the crowd. Once he finds him and meets his eyes, Joel waves him over. Tommy smiles softly and pardons himself from the conversation he doesn’t seem to be an active participant in.
“Glad to see the two of you have made up. What do you need?”
You look over at Joel as he smiles, but you frown a little at the way his smile doesn’t seem to meet his eyes. You push your worry to the side, promising yourself to ask him about it later.
“Ellie says she’s tired, but I think I’m gonna stay up with Y/N for a little while longer, do you have a place for her to stay?”
You perk up, seeming to have just now tuned into the conversation, and place a hand on Joel’s shoulder. Tommy and Ellie look over at you as you open your mouth to speak
“I have an extra bedroom if she would feel comfortable staying with me,” you look at Joel, “I mean…if that’s okay with you too.”
Joel looks back at Ellie, silently asking her what she thinks. She just shrugs. “I’m fine with whatever she’s fine with.”
“Would you be staying at Y/N’s too, Joel?” Tommy asks.
Joel looks at you, his eyes wide, but you don’t seem to have much of a reaction to the question. You just look back at him with those damned sweet eyes of yours.
“Yeah,” you say, looking back at Tommy, “he’s gonna stay with me.”
── ⋅⋅⋅ ──
Even though Joel would have been happy sitting outside with you until the sun came back up, you had to take Ellie back to your place to get her settled in your spare bedroom.
“...The bathroom is just down the hall, and Joel and I will be in my room downstairs,” you finish explaining where everything was, pointing in the respective directions of the bathroom and your bedroom. “Just let us know if you need anything. We’ll probably be up for a little while yet.”
Joel had been standing silently next to you the whole time you’d been explaining the layout of your home. He had been enthralled with your collection of books, pottery, and paintings. He wondered if that was what your house had been full of before the outbreak, when everything wasn’t constantly a matter of life or death. When you were carefree and when you were happy. He decides that the thought isn’t worth dwelling on, and he pushes it away with a grunt.
Once Ellie had said her goodnights and shut her door, you lead Joel back downstairs. Your living room consisted of intricately carved wooden bookcases that were absolutely full, a worn-but-cozy-looking couch, and a soft rug. Joel sighs at the warmth that resonates from everything in your home.
“Wow,” Joel hums, “everything is so normal here.” He finds himself rubbing his fingers along the worn seams of your couch as you walk into the kitchen to retrieve a couple of glasses and a bottle of whiskey. When you return, you set a glass in front of Joel, pouring him a few ounces of liquor.
“I guess you could say that,” you say softly, pouring your own glass, “doesn’t always feel like it out there, so I try to make it feel like it in here. There are some carpenters around town,” You move to one of your bookcases and run your fingers softly along the carvings as you hold your glass in your other hand. “They made these for me. They make me think of you.”
Joel frowns as you say this, looking up from where you’ve parked yourself in front of your bookcase.
“How do you mean?”
“Oh,” you start, turning to face him, “they’re strong, sturdy, reliable, lovely to be around.” You say, and with every adjective you place on both him and the bookcase, you take a step closer to him. By the time you’ve reached the end of your list, you are standing in front of where he’s sitting. His eyes have followed your face throughout your walk toward him, and as he looks up at you now, he is convinced you are the most beautiful woman on the planet. He reaches up and places his hands on your hips as you swirl your drink around in its glass.
“I’ve missed you so much Y/N,” he whispers and pulls you closer to him, resting his head on your soft stomach. You run your fingers through his hair, subsequently pulling him closer to your body.
“I’ve missed you too, Joel. So much more than I could ever tell you.”
Joel presses the side of his face further into your tummy, inhaling deeply.
“Are you okay?” you ask after a few moments of comfortable silence. Joel turns his head so that his nose presses into your navel, as though trying to hide from the question.
“I’m just so scared of you leaving again,” Joel mumbles into your stomach, “I don’t think I could survive it.”
You pull away from him and Joel almost whines, tightening his grip on your hips in an attempt to keep you pressed against him. He is unsuccessful, though, as you pull his hair gently in order to get him to look you in the eye again. You smile at him as he obeys your silent request, and you continue to run your fingers over his worn features. Your hand eventually comes to a resting place on his shoulder.
“Haven’t I told you how miserable I was after I left the first time? I don’t think I could survive leaving you again, either.” You smile at him again, moving your hand up to run it along the crevices of his ear. “You’re stuck with me, Joel Miller. Like honey.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, sweets.”
You lean down toward his face, finally pressing your lips to his. He groans into your mouth and pulls you down on top of him. When your legs are resting on either side of his thighs, he pulls your glass out of your hand and leans forward to put it on your coffee table. The moment both of your hands are free, they are all over him. They’re buried in his hair, running over his shirt, down to his hips, and anywhere else you could get your hands. The two of you simply kiss each other for long enough that you find yourself losing your breath.
“You’re wearing too much, baby,” Joel eventually mumbles in between kisses and pulls at the bottom of your shirt. You pull away from him for a mere moment so that you can pull your shirt over your head. The moment your shirt was off, Joel’s hands are on your bare breasts, palming them and warming them in his hands.
“God, Joel,” you moan as he pinches your nipples between his index finger and his thumb. He takes advantage of you pulling away from his lips to move his to your neck. You groan as he sucks a delicate mark at the base of your neck, and only momentarily worry about what the others in the commune will think. This worry is dissolved, however, when Joel moves his mouth towards your breast, leaving small bites and marks along the way. When his mouth finally latches onto your nipple, you let a louder moan out, causing Joel to slap a hand over your mouth.
“Gotta be quiet, sweets. Can’t wake her up.” Although you nod at his words, he keeps a hand over your mouth for another few minutes as he continues to work your nipple with his tongue. After a while though, you realize you’ve been grinding on Joel’s jeans, and there is now a wet spot from where you’ve leaked through your own pants.
“God, baby, I’ve gotta get you out of these damn pants,” he swears, pulling off your chest for a moment to speak before reattaching himself.
“My room,” you pant, “let’s go to my room.”
With a show of strength that makes you yelp, Joel lifts you up and carries you in the direction of where you’d indicated your room to be. At your noise, Joel gives you a playful glare.
“What did I say about the noise?” He almost snarls as he pushes the door open and kicks it shut behind him. He drops you on the bed and you bounce once as he backs away to remove his clothes. “If you wake her up, we have to stop. Is that what you want? To stop?”
“No Joel, please,” you beg, shuffling out of your pants as he shucks his own down his legs. “I need you to touch me.”
“Oh, you need me, do you?” you nod at his taunting, not caring how desperate you may seem. “Then you need to be quiet. I’ll touch you as much as you want as long as you keep your mouth shut. We’ll find a time for you to be as loud as you want because believe me, I want to hear you, but now cannot be the time.”
You’ve been nodding along with him as he’d been speaking, resisting the pathetic urge to make grabby hands at him. He smirks down at you, acknowledging your obedience with a simple “Good girl,” before leaning back down to touch you. His touch is so much more present when he’s pressed on top of you, and you bite your lip so hard to keep your moans in your throat that you think you taste blood. Joel moves his way down your body, kissing every so often. Once he gets to where your panties block his access, he places a simple kiss on your covered core. You jump, shutting your eyes tight at the idea of what’s to follow.
“Can I take these off, beautiful?” Joel asks, running his fingers under the seams of your panties and letting the elastic snap gently against your sensitive skin. You nod, but he shakes his head at you, “When I’m asking you if I can do something, I need you to tell me out loud. Can’t be letting me do things you don’t want just because you don’t think you’re allowed to say no. You’ve gotta be quiet, but I need more than a nod, baby. That hasn’t changed in the time since we last did this.”
“Yes Joel, please touch me,” you groan softly, dropping your head back against the bed as he pulls away the last barrier that is keeping him from your core. He groans at the sight of you, dropping his head onto your mound and breathing in the smell of you.
“God, I’ve missed this pussy,” he says before leaning in to kiss over your core, reaching everywhere but where you need him the very most. You bite your lip and arch into him, but he just chuckles. “You’ve gotta be patient, baby. I’ll get there, don’t worry.”
With that, he dives in.
The feeling of his mouth on you, the feeling of his nose bumping rhythmically against your clit almost makes you forget that you have to be quiet. Almost. You slap your hand over your mouth and press your head into the mattress below you as Joel swirls his tongue against you. He wraps his arms underneath your thighs and pulls himself impossibly closer to your core. He presses his tongue into you and it feels like someone’s lit a fire underneath you. His nose continues to bump against your bundle of nerves and you let your mouth fall open in a silent moan as you feel his fingers press into you and curl against your most sensitive spot. Every curl of his fingers knocks the air out of your lungs, and you can feel your orgasm approaching impossibly fast, so you reach down to grab at Joel’s hair.
“I’m–hah–” you squeak out, “I’m gonna–I’m gonna cum, Joel please–” you almost scream as he pulls away from you. The bottom half of his face is covered in your wetness, and he just smiles at you as though this isn’t the most obscene image you’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing.
“You didn’t think I’d let you come without me, did you?” He says smugly. You whimper at him. “Silly girl.”
He leans back down to reconnect your lips with his and pulls his boxers down his thick thighs. He grunts quietly at the feeling of his cock finally being freed from its confines. Joel pulls himself from your lips and leaves pecks haphazardly around your face and neck. This makes you giggle and you pull his face away from where it had been buried in your neck.
“Joel,” your face would have warmed at the breathiness of your voice if you’d had any semblance of personal shame left, but you don’t, so you continue, “please, I need you inside me.”
Joel groans softly, leaning back down to place another kiss against your lips before he pulls away and grabs ahold of his cock. He lines himself up with your core and pushes inside. The stretch of him, after three years of having nothing more than your fingers inside of you, is unimaginable, and you squeeze your eyes shut.
“You okay, sweets? You need a minute?” He stops moving his hips and his face is furrowed in concern.
“Just–” you huff, “you’re so big. Love your cock, Joel. Please keep going.”
If Joel hadn’t already been at full mast, your begging praise would have made him even harder. He continues moving his hips, albeit more gently until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Here, he pauses, placing soft kisses over your eyes and cheekbones. You whine at him, silently begging him for more.
“Baby, you’ve gotta give it a minute. Want this to feel as good for you as it does for me.”
“Feels so good Joel,” you say softly, “please please please move,”
Joel doesn’t need you to tell him twice. He pulls out of you before pushing himself back in. He quickly sets a rhythm, and it's slow but deep. You can feel every vein and curve of his cock, every ridge of him is pressing against every ridge of you, and it makes you want to scream. You vaguely remember that you’re supposed to be quiet, so you press your hand over your mouth. Joel pushes your hand away though, and you’re momentarily confused before he replaces your hand with his own.
“Want to be able to feel your moans, baby. I can’t hear them right now, but I want to know how good I’m making you feel. I can’t get enough of you.”
This makes you moan against his hand, your back arching against him. His thrusts are hitting you exactly where you need them to, and you feel your orgasm approaching yet again. You assume that he can feel the way you’re clenching around his cock because he reaches one of his hands down toward your clit and begins rubbing furious circles. You squeak, pressing further into him and squeezing your eyes shut.
“Come for me, baby,” Joel pants, his sentences short and to the point, “Come on, I know. You’ve been so good. I’m so close. Gonna fill you up. You want that?” Joel groans into your neck once he’s finished speaking as if his own words have gotten him closer to orgasm. You don’t realize you’re nodding until you can feel the scrape of his stubble against your cheek. You’re so close you can almost taste it, and you want it so bad that you can’t even think.
Your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, making your body tense and Joel groan. He follows soon after you, pumping you full of him. You moan softly at the feel of him flooding your insides, and you wrap your arms around the back of Joel’s head, pulling him ever closer.
As the two of you come down from your respective peaks, you press Joel into your neck and he groans.
“God,” he mutters, “we’ve always been good at that, huh?”
You laugh, trying to push him gently off of you, but he doesn’t budge.
“Joel,” you groan in faux annoyance, “you’re too hot, get off of me.”
Joel chuckles but relents. When he pulls out of you, you squeak in moderate discomfort, and he kisses the side of your head in an attempt to soothe you. It works, obviously.
He stands up and pulls his boxers back up his legs. You frown at the loss of your view, but the way he looks back at you makes your insides flutter.
“I’m gonna go get you a washcloth to clean you up a bit. You need anything? Some water?”
You feel your face warm in affection at him and you nod. He disappears momentarily, and a few seconds after you hear water running from your kitchen, he returns to you. He approaches you, handing you your water before leaning back down to your core to clean you off. You jump at the contact, still sensitive from your previous activities, but he consoles you with a kiss to your inner thigh. Once you’re all clean, Joel throws the washcloth somewhere in the room and crawls his way back up to you, flopping down at your side. The two of you just stare at each other for what feels like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Eventually, you roll closer to him and press yourself into his side. You inhale deeply, noting the smell of sweat, sex, and Joel. You smile against his chest and wrap your arm around his midsection. You yawn.
“Go to sleep, honey,” Joel mumbles as he runs his hands over your body, “I’ll be here in the morning.”
-
let me know what y'all think! smooches and much love.
#joel miller x reader#the last of us#the last of us hbo#hbo!joel miller x reader#joel miller#ellie williams#joel miller fanfiction#tlou#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction
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Movements that loathe pure women but claim to provide them women with "true liberation":
liberal feminism,
conservative feminism,
radical feminism,
lesbian feminism,
female separatism,
4B6T,
Decentering men,
Divestment,
Pink pill, black pill, every pill in existence,
all sects of religion (except Loving God, of course...) with Satanism being the absolute worst.
They're all superficial dumpster fires which is why their goals will never be achieved because their priority is sex. Compassionate women who seek genuine human connection (while being respectful of boundaries) and the relief of suffering, who work diligently for these groups being their most loyal, dedicated and caring vassals except they are never protected. Noble women are ignored and while fornicators argue amongst themselves about who's more oppressed, beauty standards while intrasexually competing for dick and pussy (while idolizing images of fake characters with fake strength...). When an actual virtuous woman gives them the solution to their problem, they deny its use and she is trampled on and then discarded.
On paper, I'm the most oppressed demographic in the history of every society in existence in every single way and you know what? Not a single persecution I've dealt with has been anywhere near severe as being pure which is why virtuous women of all ages and cultures can relate to this message without vanity getting in the way.
Reamers are addicted to talking about vain stuff like race, beauty standards, political positions, sexuality like any of that matters. Clean people who are black, asian, pacific islanders, aboriginal, african, latin, hispanic, european and white can talk about all the ways they fought to remain pure in this disgusting world and relate to each other as there isn’t a place on the planet were we can one can maintain their innocence (and there is celebration of her blessedness when she does, not jealousy...).
While emotionally obliterated sexophiles go to war over the dumbest shit in existence, think they're capable and deserving of love which is the longest running Cosmic joke. If you can’t love purity, you can’t love anything, especially your own souls let alone the children you fake pity.
But thanks for confirming this generation after generation!
Even though I'm not “white,” the belief that I am "white" showed me that Assholes of Color stereotype each other as much as they say racists do. Nothing I say changes regardless of my physical appearance. Besides that, I don't write like I’m “white,” I write like I love Purity.
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“Why am I being encouraged to internalised something that isn't my issue” literally. As someone who was seriously looking into all that divestment shit (I’m not actually stupid but sometimes I dabble lol) before actually doing the research into black feminist history, my wariness started with becoming disenchanted with the way whites and self hating black women would discuss us online. I didn’t have the words but I knew they sounded stupid and ahistorical. And just nasty. They can’t hide the contempt they have for black women and even those of us who don’t know the ins and outs of why still know to feel off about it. Most people know when they’re being scapegoated or when they’re hated.
" I'm not actually stupid but sometimes I dabble " lmao you're so funny
It's frustrating when you know something is wrong and feels off but you don't have the words or background to say why and the only criticisms you see border on hatred but it offers something and that's sort of what the Black Femininity movement does. It scratches some itches Black women have about our image and not being treated right so I get why some land there
Right now, on social media Black women are in a rock and a hard place. I don't think how modern Black feminism exists online is remotely helpful and is expressed in a way that compounds stupidity instead of sparking curiosity. There is a specific way that if I see someone use the term womanism, I know she doesn't read and is talking out her ass.
The modern divestment movement is so much more toxic than what it used to be ( don't get me wrong I never liked it but my concerns were minor ). To top it off the people doing anti-racism keep saying race science shit about Black women's bodies. That environment makes turning to modern divestment and Black Femininity almost a given for any Black woman that's fed up because at least they're not acting like our bodies are biologically wrong and that's mentally easier to deal with because a Femininity journey isn't an indictment against our bodies or how we were made. Which isn't much but it's something
There is alot of contempt out there for Black women saying it's community and salvation when it requires us to lie about ourselves, condemn ourselves and have contempt for ourselves. Nothing that insinuates I was born bad is for me
I don't think you can solve a problem without correctly pointing at it and people have always been annoyed when Black women have analysis about ourselves that isn't useful to them.
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⭐
LOSING MY COLLECTIVE SHIT ok here's a rant about one of my favorite scenes in depths of natarus (gil being taught to dance). kinda spoilers for chapter 6 but whatever
if you want more director's cuts, feel free to inbox me <3
THE PARALLELS BETWEEN GIL TEACHING CHIP HOW TO FIGHT AND CHIP TEACHING GIL HOW TO DANCE.
on a base level, gillion "training" chip not only sheds a little light on what gil did his entire life. obviously, it doesn't show any of the brutality of his training, but it shows that his skill in fighting and combat is deeply rooted in his system by now. he's a good fighter. chip, on the other hand, didn't need to be poised and collected when fighting. he wasn't focused on honor, he was focused on survival.
(also there's some gay tension between two dueling friends but yk)
now. would chip know how to dance? maybe not in canon, i'm honestly not sure. but the idea is that he doesn't know how to be super choreographed. he knows how to let his body move.
"“To dance,” Gillion repeated. “Tritons…rarely dance. Not in the way you describe. We move, but we do not dance.”"
gil has spent his entire life being choreographed and poised. every movement was absolutely purposeful, no matter if he was fighting or dancing, because that's the way the elders trained him. suddenly, he's faced with chip, who can just let himself move without fear.
(and then they dance under the stars at the party later and it's exactly like the scene in little women btw but i digress)
youtube
ALSO! the scene right after chip teaches gil to dance, the final line of that chapter really sums up what i think falling in love feels like?? because that was the moment when chip realized he was falling for gillion.
"He’d become convinced, somehow, that even if he was looking at the Gods handing him handfuls upon handfuls of hand-drawn stars and glimmering veils of planets, universes not yet discovered, he would still look over to Gillion’s eyes. Just to see the one star he’d been missing, residing in his widened pupils. They reflected back each glimmer of stardust like a mirror of ink. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. Why does it feel so natural to not be able to breathe?
Somewhere, in the bottom of Chip’s heart, infinity grows. He lets it."
anyway rant over i love this book w my whole heart
#jrwi#jrwi riptide#just roll with it#gillion tidestrider#chip jrwi#fish n chips#jrwi gillion#jrwi fanart#just roll with it riptide
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Make it Spicy | 7. siblings (half written)
Pairing: Chef!Mickey x Chef!Reader (called Pepper, not use of y/n)
Summary: where's our abuelita
Warnings: WELL WELL WELL. Mickey is a bit of an idiot, these two are a bit idiotic
A/N: i asked my friends if i should do an older or younger sibling for mickey... and somehow i ended up creating a whole family :D
If you want to be added to the taglist, comment down below
Comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated
Masterlist
Introducing:
You leave the phone on the counter and run out of the kitchen. It's not the first time Susie has been yelled at by an idiotic customer who claims their chicken was undercooked. But the restaurant isn’t even open yet.
“Camila, I called the cops. I won’t tolerate you yelling at me in my own restaurant. Not again,” your grandma says, raising a steel ladle in Camila’s direction.
You know she’s not going to hit her, but just in case today is the first time, you step between the two women.
“Oh, great. The heir of your restaurant.” Camila says, taking off her glasses.
You look at her, observing how she looks at your grandma, as if she were better than Susie.
“Camila.” She only nods, turning her head once again towards your grandma. “Why are you yelling at her this time?”
“She stole another one of my recipes!”
“I haven’t stolen anything, Camila. You’re just jealous that my restaurant is better than yours!” Susie replies, raising his voice and moving the ladle around.
You sigh, taking the ladle away from her. “This again, Camila? My grandma hasn’t stolen anything.”
“Nobody asked your opinion, little one.”
“Don’t talk to my granddaughter like that!”
You’re about to grab your grandma’s arm and move her a few steps backwards when the door opens again, and two of Camila’s grandkids step inside the local.
“Abuela, you can’t just leave like that," Miguel says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Besides, there’s no point in arguing with these… recipe-stealing people.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Say what again?”
“I said what I said," he retorts, eyeing you from head to toe, and makes you feel like you're worth nothing.
“We didn’t steal shit, for fuck’s sake.” You groan, leaving the ladle behind so you don’t get tempted to throw it at his head. “I think you’re all way too grown up to still believe your grandma’s lies.”
Mickey’s younger sister, Charlie, steps forward, the soles of her shoes resonating all over the empty restaurant. “My abuelita isn’t a liar, you idiot. Yours is the stealer!”
Rolling your eyes, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I haven’t been disrespectful to any of you, so I expect you to act the same way.”
“Charlie, shut up,” Mickey tells, pushing her behind him. He stands in front of you, looking as if he wanted to say more things than he’s allowed to say. “And you don’t have the right to opine about me or my family.”
You poke your finger into his chest. “And you don’t have the right to walk into my restaurant and tell me what I can or what I can’t do. So you better walk out here before your big sis gets here to save your ass. Like always.”
Mickey lets out a sarcastic, airy laugh, his black curls shaking with the movement. “You always need to have the last word, right?”
“And you always need to throw a sarcastic comment, right?”
“I fucking hate you," he mutters, turning around when the door opens again, Rosa walking in.
“Feeling’s mutual. Now, please, get the fuck out of here before we call the real cops.”
Rosa shakes her head, opening the door and calling for the rest of her family. They all leave, only Mickey stays behind, looking at you. “Don’t leave the door open next time.”
“Is it my fault that your grandma wants to come here and yell at mine?”
“It’s your fault if you don’t close the door.”
“Jerk.”
“Idiot,” he says, closing the door behind him.
You only know two Mickeys, your friend and this idiot. How can two people who have the same name be so different? It’s unbelievable. And speaking of Mickey, you need to have a serious conversation with him.
@purplevortexx
@shrimping-for-all
@savagejane1
@dhwanishah09
@blackwidownat2814
@et-homephone
@roostersforevergirl
@xoxabs88xox
#top gun maverick#top gun fanfiction#top gun x reader#top gun maverick fanfic#top gun#mickey garcia fluff#mickey fanboy garcia x reader#mickey garcia x reader#mickey garcia#mickey fanboy garcia#fanboy top gun#fanboy x you#top gun fanboy#fanboy x reader#top gun fanboy x reader#top gun fanboy fanfic#fanboy garcia x reader#fanboy garcia#fanboy fluff
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twelve — face to face
Your patience was wearing very thin.
It had already been several minutes since you’d texted Scorch to come to meeting room 3, but he was still nowhere in sight.
Nobody’s constipation could be that severe.
Letting out a sound of frustration, you stomped over to the glass wall and glared at the office on the other side.
There the idiot was, perched on a work desk, shamelessly flirting with one of the female employees like he had zero responsibilities to attend to.
“Motherfucker,” you cursed and banged your fist against the glass. Every single person turned to look at you—including the woman he was hitting on—but the asshole kept pretending like he had heard nothing.
You considered giving in to the urge that was clawing at you to drown his lungs.
Unfortunately, initiating any sort of physical violence was not permitted in the office premises. Plus, there were cameras and people around, so it wasn’t like you could label Scorch’s sudden death as an accident.
What you could do, though, was strip him of his dignity.
Calmly walking over to the meeting room’s door, you ripped it open and chirped, “Hey, Scorch! How’s your constipation now?”
You didn’t need to see what was behind Scorch’s mask to know he was embarrassed by your words. The instant increase in temperature made it very obvious.
“You gotta stop trying so hard, buddy,” you continued gleefully. “Sometimes one needs to know when to give up. Besides, not everyone’s gonna be as accomodating as me and let you come to meetings late because of messed up bowel movements.”
The entire office had gone silent, and to your satisfaction, it looked like everyone was struggling to hold their laughter. Except the woman Scorch had been flirting with—she had a horrified expression pasted on her face.
“Chop, chop!” You brought your hands together. “There will be enough time to shit and hit on women far superior to you later on! We gotta fight crime right now.”
Scorch silently rose from the employee’s work desk, fire igniting at his fingertips as he slowly stalked towards you.
It was almost hilarious how the people standing in his way scuttered away. You didn’t blame them for being scared, though. You had your water to keep Scorch in check; the rest had nothing. Not that he’d ever hurt anyone innocent.
“You’ve got a mouth on you today, haven’t you?” he growled once you’d closed the door behind him.
“Don’t I always?” you answered sweetly and shut the blinds as well.
Immediately, the fire engulfed his fists. You rolled your eyes and doused it with your water.
“Can I beat your ass later? This is more important. Take a look at the file first,” you said, pointing at the envelope lying on the table. “We need to go undercover.”
Scorch seemed unwilling to back down without a fight, but he must have heard the seriousness in your voice. Trudging to the table, he tore the envelope and scanned the contents of the file.
“Crime Analytics has intel on a robbery at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art,” you provided as he read. “It’s going to happen tomorrow.”
“Why is this case assigned to us?” Scorch mumbled without looking at you. “There’s a photograph of the suspect in the file with enough evidence to back it up. Why can’t the police arrest him and deal with this?”
“Because the analytics department thinks it’s going to be someone with powers. Just like us.”
He finally looked at you. “Like us? You’re saying there’s a supervillain out there?”
“The file is.” You nodded at the document. “We’re too recognisable. We can’t waltz in with our suits on and risk him attacking us on sight inside a building with hundreds of people and art worth millions. We have to go in as civilians and immobilise the suspect when his guard is low.”
“Wait, this doesn’t make any sense.” Scorch shook his head. “How have we never heard of this supervillain before?”
You shrugged. “No idea. I bet the board knows more, but when do they ever tell us anything? We’re just puppets for them to control.”
“How come we never went rogue?” Scorch mumbled and slumped down in a chair. “We’re the strongest people on Earth.”
You started counting on your fingers. “We’re bound by a contract, they have money and power and could ruin our lives if they wanted to, they cut us open and put a tracking chip so we’d never run away—”
“You can stop.”
“And the company might be capitalistic as fuck, but they do give us the opportunity to fight crime the best we can,” you completed. “Deep down, you and I know that we’ve only been able to help so many people because of their intel, and that’s why we have never stepped out of line.”
Scorch supposed you were right.
“So, what’s the plan,” he asked in an attempt to change the subject.
“We go in as a couple.”
Scorch snickered, ignoring the way his heart skipped a beat. “Right. I’m sure you would like that.”
“Get off your high horse,” you scoffed. “Siblings don’t go to art museums together.”
“How would you know?”
“I don’t,” you admitted. “I’ve never been to one. But I think going undercover and answering unwanted questions as a couple on a date would be easier.”
Scorch wasn’t able to completely understand the logic behind your reasoning, but he dropped it. There was something about a museum date slash mission with you that sounded very appealing.
“So, what, I’m finally going to get to see your fuckface now?” he joked.
“Don’t sound so excited,” you snorted. “I might think you’re in love with me.”
“The entire world already thinks so,” Scorch popped. “I don’t see what more harm can come out of you deluding yourself as well.”
You huffed a laugh and collapsed into the chair beside him. “You’re taking the SIU account too seriously. It’s all for shits and giggles.”
“Try saying that when you’re declared as the homophobe, bully and furry!” he whined.
“You forgot about misogynist.”
“Oh, yeah. Let me fix that by choking you.”
“Kinky.”
“To death,” Scorch added.
Despite yourself, you laughed again. This was nice—conversing without getting into each others’ faces. You found that you preferred it when you were just hurling insults and threatening to kill each other without planning to follow up on it.
Scorch was annoying as hell, but he was also the only person in the entire building that you could remotely rely on. He was in the same position you were and understood what it was like to be powerful yet powerless at the same time.
“So,” you began. “You wanna do the face reveal first or should I?”
“I already know what you—” Scorch stopped himself before he could continue. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could ask him what he was referring to, he went on, “Ladies first.”
You couldn’t believe you were sort of nervous. It was ridiculous how you were afraid of disappointing him in some way. You hated him, for God’s sake. Besides, a man’s validation shouldn’t have mattered anyway.
Yet, you found yourself holding your breath and closing your eyes as you took your Spandex mask off.
Your hair fell on your face, and you enjoyed the little cover it offered before running a hand through it and getting it out of your way.
When you opened your eyes, you saw Scorch staring at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking because his mask was still on, but you hoped it wasn’t anything bad.
Contrary to popular belief, superheroes had insecurities and self-esteem issues too.
“If you’re thinking something along the lines of how can someone be so beautiful, the answer is God has favourites and I’m one of them,” you said breezily and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Your turn, Walmart Torch.”
Scorch appeared to stay frozen for a moment, but then he cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, whatever.”
A second later, his mask was gone, too, and the sight you beheld had you sucking in a breath.
Damn, he was hot.
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summary: being a superhero is hard, but having to work with your arch nemesis who turns out to be just your type is even harder.
note: i’m actually insane i wrote this entire chapter on phone right now and what’s worse is that i wrote it on fucking TUMBLR instead of docs....... i need help my head aches so much it’s going to explode BUT I HOPE Y’ALL LIKED THE WRITTEN CHAPTER <33 finally an insight into their dynamic/personality irl :’)
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is the queer liberation movement not about, well, queer liberation? who does it help, trying to constrict so strictly how labels are used? so a lesbian finds a dude attractive. who the fuck does it hurt. how the fuck does it materially impact lesbians in any way. please, i would love to understand where you're coming from.
saying "lesbianism is that you're not attracted to men" seems to me awfully like you're centering your identity around the men, and not about your love towards women
do you actually know what a lesbian is??? have u ever met a lesbian im being serious
ok so let me get this straight you’re saying that i shouldn’t be policing lesbians’ identities and saying i, a lesbian, am wrong about saying what is and is not lesbianism
that’s some wacky ass shit bruh
im literally a lesbian how are you gonna tell me i have no right to say what lesbianism is
and as for who it hurts?? it fucking hurts lesbians bruh
it perpetuates the stigma that men have to be involved in female sexuality
how many times have you tried to convince a gay man that he should be attracted to women?
people are so scared of the fact that men are not needed in female identity and ppl are so lesbophobic and biphobic that we can’t even accept that there are people who are completely not attracted to men
also stop hiding behind anon lmao how cowardly
you are on MY blog telling me not to police other people, get a life my dude
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