#little angst with carter
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Goa'uld Invasion Part Two
part three of Quantum Mirror
a fic by mushroom with help from stick
back on Earth, Nymph padded down Janet's stairs and was greeting by the smell of pancakes.
"whatcha doin?" Nymph asked, mimicking Jack's phrase. Janet smiled and tilted the pan to show the flower-shaped breakfast.
"I thought we'd have a fun time with our breakfast this morning. we also have whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and I cut up some fruit for some semblance of healthiness." the doctor laughed, then quickly stopped Nymph from poking the very hot pan. "my, you're a curious one! but it'll hurt if you touch this, it's very hot."
Nymph tilted her head at Janet. "then why are the pancakes touching it? won't they get hurt too?"
"no, honey. it's just batter, and we need to cook it so we can eat it! why don't you go play a game with Cassie, and I'll bring the food in when it's ready."
that seemed to satisfy Nymph, who floated into the livingroom where Cassie was waiting with a well-loved copy of CandyLand. as the girls played, Janet noticed an irritation that seemed to be growing in Nymph. her movements became slightly more erratic, her hands darting out slightly faster, the pieces going down slightly harder on the board. She watched her for a few more moments, noticing the frown on the little girls face grow.
"Nymph? Are you alright?" Janet asked. Nymph scrunched up her face.
"I don't know," she said, floating off the floor slightly. Janet noticed a tremble in her.
"Maybe we should try a different game?" Cassie suggested, looking between Nymph and Janet. Nymph shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. a terrible feeling collected as a pit in her stomach. she pulled her hands back into herself and scrunched her face in an attempt to make the feeling go away, but it didn't go away. in fact, it got worse as it grew into the devastating realization that Something Was Wrong.
"Where's mama and daddy?" Nymph asked, a tremble in her voice coming through.
"They had to go through the Stargate, remember? They'll come back, don't worry," Janet tried to reassure her. Nymph started to cry more.
"No, there's something bad. They're not safe, we need to help them!" Nymph cried, floating over to Janet, crying into her shoulder.
Janet held her tight, trying to get the little girl to talk to her.
"Nymph, honey, you have to talk to me in order for me to know what's wrong."
Nymph shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "It's all wrong, it's all wrong!"
"what's all wrong?"
"I hafta go!"
"go where, honey?" Janet brushed Nymph's hair from her face, but nothing was calming the little girl down.
"go to the base! if I go there, I'll find out what's wrong!"
"we can't go to the base right now, and General Hammond would've called if something were wrong."
"no! no no no..." Nymph kept repeating the word, and Janet nodded at her daughter.
"can you get me the phone please, Cassie?"
Cassandra nodded, and jumped up to get the phone from its place on the wall. once she handed to her, Janet dialed the number for Cheyenne Mountain.
"yes, this is Dr. Fraiser, I need to speak with General Hammond immediately."
~ • ~ • ~
Daniel and Sam tiptoed through the corridors, peeking into doors trying to find the best place to put the C4 - or worst place, from the perspective of the goa'uld. one of the large doors opened to a glider bay, which they agreed would be the best place for secondary explosions.
Sam set the timer, and stood up to go to the next room.
"wait!" Daniel grabbed her hand before she was fully standing, nearly knocking her off balance. he spoke in hushed tones. "shouldn't we have a backup plan, in case we get caught or something?"
"that's what the timer is." Sam whispered back, even though there was no one around to hear them. they had walked into another room when the floor lurched again.
"what was that?" Daniel whispered.
"I think we slowed down or stopped," Sam responded in kind. she spotted a window, then had to do a double take.
"is that-" Daniel asked, knowing the answer.
"Saturn." Sam finished. "Bra'tac wasn't exaggerating when he said we'd get to earth in a few hours."
after a quick glance between themselves and the window, they left to meet up with the rest of the group.
~ • ~ • ~
two marines arrived at Janet Fraiser's house - one to stay with Cassie, one to drive Janet and Nymph to Cheyenne Mountain. the doctor managed to peel Nymph from her arms long enough to buckle her into the car, little cow hood skewed and her cheeks puffy and tear-stained. the wailing had stopped when they were in the car, but the crying and shuddering breaths had not. Janet kept a comforting hand on Nymph's knee, but she just seemed to be getting worse.
when they arrived at the base, Nymph took off like a rocket to Hammond's office. not being limited by stairs or gravity, she reached the office long before Janet could catch her.
"General Gramps!" Nymph cried out as she opened the door. Hammond startled, then told her to come in. she floated over to the chair, but didn't quite sit down.
"General Gramps, it was awful!! an awful, awful feeling that won't go away!" she blubbered. "you have to check on mama and daddy right now!"
Hammond sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, little lady. I can't do that - we tried to contact them a couple hours after they left, and the gate wouldn't lock on. I'm sure, wherever they are, they're perfectly fine."
Nymph was about to argue, but Walter Harriman knocked on the door. "sir, NASA is on the phone for you - they said there's two contacts out by Saturn."
"do they have any identification on them yet?" the general asked.
"it's the glue olds!" Nymph announced. Walter and Hammond glanced at each other, unsure what she meant.
"the what?" Hammond asked gently.
"the glue olds that daddy and our team went to stop! they came all the way here!" Nymph grunted in frustration.
"do you mean goa'ulds?" Hammond enunciated the correct word, at which she nodded. "what makes you think it's the goa'uld?"
"the bad feeling." she answered solemnly.
Hammond nodded, trusting her, and picked up the red phone. if those contacts were a goa'uld invasion, they needed to get a counterattack ready.
~ • ~ • ~
"so, Bra'tac," Jack started hesitantly. "what's the plan?"
Bra'tac stopped in front of a door, opened it, and motioned for the rest of them to follow him through. Jack and Teal'c walked with him to a railing while the apprentice stayed outside to stand watch.
"this is the defense shield generator," Bra'tac said, dramatically gesturing to the large glowing engine beneath them. "in order to disable it, we must climb down several levels, into the very belly of the device, and then..."
Bra'tac teetered off, watching as Jack silently took two grenades out of his vest, pulled the pin, and dropped them down the shaft. there was a large explosion, and the glow of the generator fizzled out.
"grenades." Jack stated, miming an explosion. "what now?"
Bra'tac sighed, content. "now, we die gloriously, with honour, in a ball of flames."
Jack blinked at the old man. "I'm sorry, I have to go to Minnesota next week with my kid. dying in a ball of flames isn't exactly on the agenda."
"for Apophis' sake, human!" Bra'tac snapped angrily. "I have been waiting 133 years to die of old age, why do you deny me a death in battle for what I believe in?"
"would you please stop calling me 'human'?" Jack groaned. "I have a name!"
"Master Bra'tac, surely there is a way to escape?" Teal'c asked, knowing they didn't have time for this kind of argument.
Bra'tac sighed. "come with me."
~ • ~ • ~
Sam and Daniel walked towards the rendezvous point they had agreed on, and a pair of jaffa rounded the corner before they could fully hide. staff weapon blasts were coming seemingly from all angles, and before they could take out the jaffa Daniel was struck by one of the blasts. Sam fired the final kill shot, and ran to tend to Daniel's wound.
"leave me," Daniel gasped.
"we don't leave people behind, Daniel. you know that." Sam retorted, tears streaming down her face. Daniel groaned as she tried to move him.
"we're going to blow up in an hour anyway, what does it matter? just go!" he yelled. Sam looked him in the eyes, and he whispered "just go."
Sam wiped the still streaming tears from her face, and she ran out of the corridor. Daniel had glanced around at what he thought would be his last sights when he saw where he was - in the doorway to the sarcophagus room. he crawled into the golden box of life, and watched it close on him.
Sam met up with Jack, Teal'c, and Bra'tac by herself. Jack looked behind her, then met her face.
"Daniel?"
Sam shook her head, tears starting to flow again. "a staff blast. he told me to leave him. I dont know why I listened."
Jack reached over and pulled her into a hug. "because there was nothing you could do for him."
with a nod, Teal'c reminded them that they were running out of time. Jack kept ahold of Sam's hand, and the four of them ran to the glider bay.
"alright, so we go in, and try to-" Jack started, but Bra'tac shushed him, and pulled a shock grenade out of his pocket. Teal'c pried open the door, and the master rolled the grenade into the bay. with a flash of light, all the jaffa in the glider bay were incapacitated, and the team made their way into two of the gliders.
Bra'tac tossed his staff weapon over the edge, and threw something small at Jack.
"put this on, human."
Jack fumbled with the thing thrown at him. he glanced over to see Sam and Teal'c sticking similar devices to their cheeks, and attempted to do the same before climbing behind Bra'tac in the glider. the two gliders sped out of the bay, leaving behind the soon-to-explode Ha'tak vessel.
~ • ~ • ~
the sarcophagus opened, and Daniel opened his eyes to a completely healed wound and regained strength. he clambered out, and checked the timer on the C4 on the console in the same room.
it read one minute, thirty seconds.
Daniel ran to the gate as fast as his still-jelly legs could carry him. when he reached the gate, he realised that they hadn't brought GDOs so it wouldn't be wise to gate directly home. the seconds ticked away in his thoughts as he wracked his brain for an address. finally the address for an ongoing SG-6 mission popping into his head, and he dialed as fast as he could. knowing he only had few precious seconds left, he dove instead of walked through the event horizon.
~ • ~ • ~
Walter Harriman put down the phone, a smile beaming across his face. "NASA reports two fireballs in the night sky! SG-1 did it!"
Hammond pumped his fist in excitement, then looked over at a very concerned Nymph floating next to him. "I'm sure your family got out safely."
almost on cue, the gate dialed an incoming wormhole with an SG-1 iris code. everyone rushed to open the iris and Daniel walked through the event horizon alone. Hammond and Nymph hurried down the stairs to the gateroom.
"Dr. Jackson, what happened up there?" Hammond demanded, grinning in relief.
"Uh, well, the rest of the team is-was still up there, but I went through the gate to P4A-577 and met up with SG-6 to use one of their GDOs." Daniel said quickly, barely processing that Nymph wrapped her arms around him.
Hammond looked up at the window behind him. "Sargent, call NASA and get that shuttle in the air! SG-1 could still be up there!"
"Uh, general, I uh I think they think I'm dead."
"Excuse me?"
"I was-" he looked down, and finally noticed Nymph clinging to him. "um, hurt, and I don't think they saw me use the sarcophagus."
"understood." Hammond nodded.
"are you gonna surprise them when they get home, uncle Danny?" Nymph smiled up at him.
"I think they'd like that," he chuckled.
~ • ~ • ~
the gliders were damaged. their crew, surprisingly, were unharmed, but there was no way they would fly enough to even get to a stable orbit.
"we did it, sir." Sam's voice crackled over the radio.
"yes we did," Jack responded.
"we're in a low orbit, it's only a matter of time before we burn up in the atmosphere-" Sam started to spiral, but Jack interrupted.
"Sam, look up."
she did, and saw Earth below her, glistening in the sunlight. "it's beautiful."
"we saved it." Jack stated.
"we did, Jack."
"it's too bad we won't ever be able to see our kid again." Jack sighed, but saw something at the edge of his field of vision. "then again, maybe not."
the thing at the edge of his vision creeped up until it was in full sight. it was a shuttle!
"Houston, this is Endeavor. yeah, we got 'em."
~ • ~ • ~
SG-1, alongside Bra'tac, walked into the gate room into a cacophony of applause, surrounded by their coworkers, friends, and loved ones. Nymph bounced into her parents' waiting arms, joyful sobbing all around. Hammond guided Bra'tac to the briefing room before the jaffa master left.
"Where's uncle Danny?" Nymph asked innocently. Sam's face fell.
"well, baby, he got hurt and couldn't make it." she tried to explain, tears falling from her face again.
"Oh. well, I got something that will make you feel better!" Nymph exclaimed, and waved into the crowd. the crowd shifted, and a familiar shine of glasses and mop of brown hair zigzagged to the front. Jack and Sam beamed, and Sam handed Nymph to Teal'c so the couple could hug Daniel tight.
"you space monkey," Jack laughed, voice muffled by Daniel's hair.
"so uncle Danny got hurt and couldn't make it back, huh?" Nymph called out in a sarcastic tone. Jack and Sam smirked at each other, both rolling their eyes.
"that's your kid," they said in unison, laughing.
wrapped arm-in-arm, the SG-1 family waltzed into the mess hall for some well-deserved desserts.
"we're definitely taking that vacation," Jack could be heard muttering as they passed in the halls.
part one | part two
#nymph the floaty baby#stargate#stargate sg1#stargate sg1 fic#daniel jackson#jack o'neill#sam carter#teal'c#this is as close to angst as i get#this took a lot longer than i was expecting#but all in all im proud of it#should i make a small little ficlet of the sg1 family at the lake#itll only be maybe a couple paragraphs
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Rodney wasn't angry, and that was the scariest part. Defeated Rodney was always a terrible sign. Everyone took a collective breath in as Sam took a hesitant step forward.
#:)#y'all asked for it#so i delivered#enjoy#or don't this one is a little bit more sad than the last one#but ya know#what can i say#i'm good at angst :)#rodney mckay#samantha carter#my writing#fanfic#sga fanfic#sga the last man#sga#stargate atlantis
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Accidental Six Sentence Sunday because I made myself sad so now you get to suffer with me
CW: Suicidal Ideation
CW: Suicide note
Catra, as per usual, is not having a great time. This is also a, uh, just a-HEM just a little tiny bit longer than 6 sentences. Don't worry about it don't worry about it don't worry about it, this is fine! :) I will find the perfect place for this :)
This has nothing to do with Carter in the Cult. This sentence is designed to torture one or two of you specifically.
Don't worry about it :)
My dedication to self destruction should be applauded.
None of the rest of you have found a way to kill me yet, but at the rate I’m going I’ve found it for you. So, you’re welcome! I’ll do the hard work and the dirty work, and you can stand there to shake your head sadly and say shit like:
“She’s in a better place now.”
“At least she isn’t suffering anymore.”
“I knew she was unwell, but…”
“It’s actually a relief to not have to worry about her anymore.”
And you’ll post your sorry online brownie point stories about me and the times you tried to help me, but gosh I was just so fucking far gone if only you could’ve done more. You’ll end it telling the people you actually care about “if you are ever feeling this way please reach out to me!” and you’ll post the number to a hotline that will call the cops on any poor fucker who calls it.
And you’ll feel better. You will feel better.
That’s what it’s all about right? I’m a nuisance, a pest, a nightmare. You can’t stand me at my best or worst, you think I’m a bitch, you think I’m scum. You tell your friends to avoid me because “oh that Catra is a bad one, just likes drama”. Just likes drama, your judgment from on high where you push back and sometimes push first but sure I love the “drama” of it all. Or maybe your friends just said that for you, and you let them puppet you about; afraid to speak up.
Well, it doesn’t matter much I suppose.
When I’m gone you’ll feel bad, but not in a way that will change you. Just enough to want to get rid of it as quickly as you got rid of me, so you make your post and have an outpouring of support from well wishers and people who wished they could’ve seen the signs.
I mean, I made each sign with sweat and tears and blood, I bent the glass tubes carefully and turned them on in neon red and green.
You saw the signs.
You just hoped they wouldn’t mean what you feared they could, and the worst part is I don’t know if you feared it because you actually cared about me or if you feared the cleanup and guilt you knew would come. Always have to make things right after all, always have to clean up my messes. If you can’t control me, you want to control the aftermath and the first step of that is to make it all about you, right?
Well don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem. I’m absolving you of that guilt, this wasn’t your fault.
I made my mistakes, and now I have to live with them, right?
As if I haven’t spent my whole life living with this. Struggling against it. Pushing the weight up for moments at a time to gasp in air before it crushed me again. (Do you remember when you used to hold me and promise I didn’t deserve that kind of misery? I do. I miss the you that believed in me, but I guess that’s my fault too.) I’ve lived with it and like everything else in my life, it just isn’t worth it. Nothing is worth it anymore,.not since you
Listen to your friends now. They’re better than me, smarter than me, kinder than me. They never liked me and they might’ve been on to something. When they tell you that it’s not your fault, it’s true. When they tell you I was unstable, it’s true. When they tell you this was inevitable, well, I think that’s true too.
Third try’s the charm right?
…
Well. Wish me luck, and do me a favor- I know I don’t deserve one, but do me one last favor.
When the mortuary asks who will pick up my remains? Leave them there. They cremate the unclaimed and I can sit in a dusty box in the basement, and when enough time passes maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll throw me away with the rest of the trash. Don’t keep me on your desk to mourn, I don’t want you to cry over me.
I want me gone. You should too.
So do me a favor and don’t claim me. Choose yourself for fucking once.
Trust me, you’ll thank me later.
#angst#whump#I hurted myself y'all#catra#adora#she ra#spop#fanfiction#fanfic#dark fic#CitC#Carter in the Cult#will either be an M or E rating#cw: suicide#all hurt/minimal comfort#this snippet is all hurt no comfort#I miss the you that believed in me but I guess that's my fault too#I wrote that line and crumpled a little bit
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Bodies.
7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader
reader has no physical description, pics are for mood
raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut)
SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋
A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @gracieispunk for the B/W pic; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed his name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for your patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs.
WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.
Raider POV of smut.
The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear.
Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts. The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed.
-
Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black.
“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts.
Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.
“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him. The look on his face makes your stomach turn.
“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.
“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.
You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”
Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.”
Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground. His face becomes studious.
“What,” you ask.
“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.
A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”
"Yeah," you whisper. Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you?
Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”
You perk up. “You think?”
Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly.
“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”
Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family.
You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name.
Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”
“--Rifle??” You crack a smile.
“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle.
“What about Bullet–”
“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back.
As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself.
—--Carter—--
The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day.
You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.
The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going.
Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back.
“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl.
They drop their backpacks and put their hands up.
“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks.
The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile. “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.”
Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings.
“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder.
“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun.
Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.”
They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much.
Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel.
-
"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel.
"What do they want," Joel grumbles.
"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."
Joel nods.
“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.”
Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?”
“Not heavily,” Carter answers.
“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”
“You got it,” Carter says.
—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---
You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day. When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside.
When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”
Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .”
“Jill,” she pipes in.
“Ron,” the man nods at you.
A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious.
Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.
Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention.
Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.” Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.”
Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused. “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.
“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all.
“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily.
“Thanks,” Carter mumbles.
Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs.
"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log.
Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left.
Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up. He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.
Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses.
Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.
“You can’t be serious,” you snap back.
“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”
“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.
“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.”
“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust.
You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap.
“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!”
Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.
Carter protests, “It’s not–”
“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama.
“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants.
“Lemme see it,” Ron demands. He stands up and points his gun at Carter. He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.
“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster.
Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”
“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground.
“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs.
“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.”
You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.
Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected. Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind.
Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head. Jill screams.
It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun. You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat. She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings. You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits.
“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her. Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle.
“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing. “Go inside.”
You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it. Then he turns his attention to Jill. She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic.
“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her. “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.
But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow.
Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore.
“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping.
You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel.
Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside.
-
For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved.
Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears.
Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter.
“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.
“Where's Joel?”
“Haulin’ a body.”
“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”
He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.”
“You promise?” you try to choke back tears.
“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.”
You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest. He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water. “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you.
“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water.
—--
You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty. You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.
You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away. How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.
You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name. “You okay?”
You sniffle. He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink.
You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away.
He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters.
You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?”
“Makin’ it. . .”
Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other.
Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”
He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.”
“You said people can’t see it.”
“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”
“Like what?”
Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”
You nod.
Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.
“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?”
“Sorry.”
“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks.
“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.
“I just wanted you.”
“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”
“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist.
“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”
“You think that's what she wanted?”
“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”
“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil.
“Fire's out and we’re outta gas. Gonna be cold either way.”
You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings.
“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum.
Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand.
“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin.
It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back.
He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?”
The coldness stings.
“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.
Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her.
Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you.
Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching. When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.
After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.” This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?
Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel. You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.
Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered. You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?”
You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.”
“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”
You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs.
“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.”
Your chest flutters with butterflies.
He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head. He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.”
The front door opens and shuts.
“All good?” Joel yells.
“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn.
“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells.
Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed.
-
Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows. He sits on the closed toilet seat again.
“What is it?” you ask.
“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you.
He looks at the object in his lap.
“It's for me?”
He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .”
“Lemme try it on.”
He searches your eyes. “Really want to?”
You nod.
He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh.
“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.
He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.
He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”
“I love it.”
“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.”
You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker. “Let's go to bed.”
—-—--
You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go.
It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart.
You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you. He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it.
-
You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
That means you're doin’ it.
You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs. You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?”
“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.
“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know. But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely. Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience.
You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.”
You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed.
“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly.
You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.
You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle. “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause.
You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can.
You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t.
Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.
“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”
“Is it good?” you ask.
“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him. “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”
“Wanna make you feel good.”
“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”
You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.
“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”
“I'm gonna finish what I started”
“That’s right,” he nods.
His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him.
—
Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs. Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open. He growls, “God damn.” You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already.
He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair. You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him.
You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you.
You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock. His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.
You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it. So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest.
“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie. He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely.
“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs.
His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.
You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head. You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up.
Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.”
You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours.
“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.”
You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.
“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you. Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs.
He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.”
You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours.
As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.
Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest. You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back. It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.
“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak.
“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock. His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.
When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones.
-
After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.”
You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest. He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.
Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring.
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Raider POV: The Kiss
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So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.
Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.
Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.
I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.
Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon
: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfic#dark!joel miller#raider!joel miller#raider!joel#raider joel#toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel ☠️#cw dubcon#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fanfiction#dark fluff
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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟏𝟐 — 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌
kinktober day 012 | agent!peggy x lieutenant!reader
you're eating your wife out under her office desk as she speaks to - or least, attempts to speak to - her military soldiers. tinged with the angst of a classic 1940s 'forbidden' sapphic romance.
cont. office sex, fingering, edging, angst (what a combo)
word count. 2065
kinktober masterlist || main masterlist
“Oh, babe, m’so close,” Peggy gasps in pleasure, gripping onto the handles of her arm chair, as your fingers curl inside her pretty cunt.
“Almost there already?” you tease, mouthing at her pretty breasts and leaving light marks with your teeth. “I haven’t even been here that long, Agent Carter.”
“Enough with the Agent Car- Oh, just shut up and fuck me properly,” she responds exasperatedly, hands twisting into the navy green of your military uniform. You move your fingers in tight little circles, smirking as she throws her head back.
These forbidden little trysts that always ended up in Peggy’s office fed into every one of your desires and fantasies. As much as the element of ‘forbidden’ excited you to no end, there was always this sick little want in your mind to show Peggy off, show everyone how good you made her feel, show everyone that you were the only person who could make her feel like this.
Today is no different, the both of you in Peggy’s office. You had purposefully left the door closed but unlocked, only with the woman’s reluctant agreement. That thought in itself, that any of her soldiers could see her unravelling like this — that thought made you so, so wet.
When Peggy brings her hands up your shirt to palm at your tensed abdomen, you feel a surge of arousal, and it causes you to slam the back of her chair against her office desk with need. Peggy whines beautifully as you tower over her with purpose, hands wrapping around her pretty neck to kiss her.
You get lost in the haze of lust, only registering Peggy’s stifled moans and those pathetic whimpers, only registering her warmth and wetness clenching needily around your fingers.
“Coming!” Peggy cries out, and just as you’re about to push your fingers once more against her sweet spot, there’s a knock on the door.
“Agent Carter, it’s important,” a gruff male voice sounds from behind the door.
You halt your movements, eyes locking with the brunette, fingers stilling themselves inside her cunt.
You don’t miss the way Peggy’s eyes dart to the door in fear, her breath hitching, but her hips still trying to chase that pleasure.
It excites you.
“You have to go,” Peggy squirms under your grasp that holds her still. “We can’t be seen-”
“You want me to jump out the window of the sixth floor?” you ask seriously, helping to button up her blouse. She looks so pretty, with her face flushed and her lipstick smeared. You swipe a thumb along the bottom of her lip to clean it up, and Peggy looks at you pleadingly.
“Agent Carter, it’s the 107th Infantry Regiment here to see you.”
With a determined huff, Peggy lifts up a leg and promptly kicks you under her desk, the heel getting you in the side. “Come in,” she says loudly, glaring at you as your face screws up in pain.
Eyes narrowing at her brattiness, you reach up from under the desk and pull off the entirety of Peggy’s grey skirt in one fluid motion just as the door swings open, leaving her completely bare and vulnerable from the waist down. Her panties were still in your pocket, saved for further use.
Peggy lets out a strangled sound of frustration mixed with pleasure as she rolls her armchair into place, hiding her nudity from view of the entering soldiers. This means that you’re face-level with her bare, glistening cunt, and it doesn’t take a genius to find out what you’d do with that.
“Agent,” the soldiers chorus as you make yourself comfortable under the table. You’re seated cross-legged, gripping at Peggy’s thighs, mouth dangerously close to her throbbing cunt.
“R-Right, this better be important,” Peggy begins, clearing her throat and trying to regain her composure. Her hands are clammy, nails digging into her palms in an attempt to calm her growing arousal.
Your hot breath is on her wetness, unbelievably simulating, and your presence under her desk while her soldiers were in the same room was electrifying.
“It is,” that same gruff voice sounds, and you recognize it as Bucky Barnes. He was a bit too arrogant for your liking, and you detested the way he looked at Peggy sometimes.
She was yours.
Your hands slide up the length of Peggy’s bare legs, dragging goosebumps along with the gentle touch, then grabbing fistfuls of the sides of her ass.
Peggy jerks in her seat, and you can imagine her sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.
“Is something the matter, ma’am?” another voice asks. It’s Steve Rogers, Mr. Captain America. You feel another round of jealousy coursing through your bloodstream. It was no secret around camp that he had a puppy love for your lady.
You wrap your bulky, muscled arms around her big thighs, forcefully prying them apart as your tongue pushes into the slit of her leaking pussy. Peggy was already sensitive from before, and the sensation of your long tongue entering her cunt made Peggy let out a disguised moan.
“I- oh, I- I think that I’m just a bit unwell today,” the agent says with a quavering voice, forcing a polite smile onto her face in an attempt to hide the pleasured expression that fights its way there.
“Sorry to hear that, Agent Carter,” Steve offers sympathetically. “We’ll make this quick. We've got new intel on the Red Skull and we think he's a more dangerous threat than we initially envisioned."
When you start dragging your tongue up and down in long stripes, teasing at Peggy’s entrance but not truly letting her experience a high, she knows that her squelching sounds would be embarrassingly loud if she didn’t do something.
Peggy reaches for the remote and turns up the Stark-sponsored fan to its highest setting. The loud whirring sound creates more noise, and you gladly take the opportunity to dive into her cunt, tongue lapping fervently at the wet heat like you were worshipping a sacred temple.
“I’m just – oh, Christ – have a – mhm, bit of a fever going,” Peggy says brokenly, fanning at herself with an awkward chuckle. She’s screaming internally, your mouth buried in her pussy like you would nest in there forever.
"Right,” Bucky says with a raised eyebrow. “So we thought we might need more backup before our infiltration into the HYDRA base. The senior-rank soldiers, Agent Carter, if you could allow us that permission."
Peggy nods, the words going in one ear and flying out the other. Your fingers are in action now, as well,
"We know that it's a last-minute change,” another soldier says, and Peggy looks in his general direction but she can’t even focus on how he looks like to recognise him. Her vision is swimming, her thoughts are dizzying.
The centre of her universe was you.
She was so close. So, so close.
But you leave her hanging there, at the edge of a precipice, between inexplicable pleasure and unrecoverable shame.
Peggy almost sobs.
"Changes like that have to be made in the face of all possible scenarios,” Peggy says, clamping her thighs around your head. It helps fractionally with the overwhelming arousal, and the agent desperately seizes that small chance. “I appreciate you all coming to me with this information. It should take a bit of paperwork to settle but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Agent Carter,” Steve says sincerely, and you roll your eyes under the desk at the stupid smile you can hear in his voice. She was yours. You push your fingers in a little deeper.
Fuck, Peggy needs it. Needs to release all that pent-up arousal.
"Oh, Agent Carter, have you seen Lieutenant L/N? We want to ask her about the added arms and ammunition," you hear Bucky ask, and you almost snort into Peggy’s dripping cunt.
"No, I don't suppose I've seen her around,” Peggy forces out, trying to subtly grind her hips against your face. She’s that desperate, that needy for the pleasure you’re dangling in front of her.
You’d been edging her, controlling her pleasure like you were a puppeteer and she was your marionette.
She needs it. She needs it or she’s going to die.
"Is that all?"
“Yes, Ma’am,” Bucky answers, and following his lead are the rest of the soldiers who leave Peggy’s office in an orderly manner.
Your two fingers curl in the glory of her dampened cunt, tongue still lapping at the flowing nectar that tastes like honey to your lips.
Finally, Peggy cries internally. Finally, she can get her sought-after release—
"Peggy," Steve begins desperately, putting his hands on the edge of the desk you’re sitting under. He’d hung around while the others had filed out, clearly wanting to speak to the agent.
Oh, fuck no.
Peggy wants to cry in frustration at her prolonged denial of pleasure, and you fume in deadly silence. How dare he address her by her first name, with more fondness than a close friend. How dare he think he’s good enough for your Peggy–
"About that dance I asked you to-" Steve continues, none the wiser to the raging conflict going on beneath the surface.
Your fingers thrust deep into Peggy’s sweet spot, and a lewd squelch sounds, and it takes everything in her willpower not to cry out your name. Steve is too flustered to notice, and Peggy thanks the heavens for his oblivious nature.
"I'm not–, in- oh, interested, Rogers. Exit my office now.”
By the grace of some God, Steve takes ‘no’ as an answer. The dejected man hangs his head, turning around in resolution. Peggy’s vision is blurring, not because she feels for Rogers, but because the amount of pleasure you’re filling her to the brim with.
She can feel you, gripping the flesh of her thighs and leaving dark fingerprints, your tongue ever so languidly tracing the outline of her dripping hole, just waiting for the opportune moment like a predator about to pounce on its prey.
The door’s barely clicked shut before you’re making the most carnal noises into Peggy’s cunt, tongue diving deeper than what she thought was physically possible. “Oh, mhmm, fuck!” she cries, head thrown back as she weaves her fingers into your hair.
“You have no idea,” you growl, throwing both of Peggy’s legs over your shoulders to give you better access. “No fuckin’ idea how much I wanted to make you cum in front of that good-for-nothin’. Make him see you become such a fucking slut for me.”
Peggy mewls, practically humping your face, so insanely desperate for you to make her feel good. She can’t differentiate your rough hands or your long tongue, stimulating her across her whole body, like a raging fire has been ignited and it can’t be doused.
“Please,” Peggy pants, one of her hands going to grip the top of her armchair, trying to reach a semblance of non-existent control. “Oh,” she moans, husky and low, when your nose bumps against her enlarged clit. You proceed to do it repeatedly, and Peggy’s frighteningly close to passing out from sheer pleasure.
“Say you’re mine,” you whisper, almost unheard.
Peggy hears the desperation in your voice. Like she’s not the only one who’d die without your touch. Like she’s more than just a simple game of cat-and-mouse. Like you’re not the forsaken lovers who’ll go down in the history books as ‘best friends’.
Like the two of you could ever be something more.
But it doesn’t matter, not now when she’s crying for your touch, and not ever.
“I’m yours,” Peggy answers, with more resolution in her voice than any military call, with more steadfastness in her voice than she would ever care to admit. It’s a promise, a sacred one, and with that the two of you were bound.
All it takes is a harsh curl of your fingers into Peggy’s sweet spot that has her coming undone, ropes and seals unwinding for the maker that is you.
Wave after wave of pleasure rolls over Peggy’s body, white-hot liquid making its way into the crooks and crevices of your face Peggy found her religion in.
The look that passes between the two of you as Peggy finally topples over the ledge is unsaid. It doesn’t need to be said. It can’t be said.
I’m with you till the end of the line.
"in the crooks of your body, i find my religon." -sappho
how was the characterization of peggy? it's my first time writing for her, and it was pretty interesting as compared to writing for natasha and wanda. i mean, peggy's speech is generally more refined, and i would think she would be more prudish about sex in general. (my personal opinion, i've never watched her series)
kinktober masterlist || main masterlist
#sytoran's kinktober 2023#kinktober#kinktober 2023#peggy carter x reader#marvel smut#gxg smut#wlw smut#peggy carter x reader smut#peggy carter#the winter soldier#top reader#dom reader#1940s
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LOVESTRUCK, WENT STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD ⎯ S. CROSBY
y/n just wants the best for her son, she thinks the program rule of no freshmen players on varsity is stupid. she just did what any mother would do...right?
coach!sidney crosby x teacher!single mom!reader
warnings: angst, smut (fingering, handjob, sex on a table), somewhat of an inappropriate relationship, single parent content, light talk of divorce, lowkey based off of "slut!" by taylor swift
word count: 4,244
a/n: look at that....i do still know how to write
The bitterness of the coffee wasn’t doing it’s job. On her third cup and it’s not even ten in the morning, Y/N waits for the next period of students to walk through her door. Taking in one of the few moments of silence she has, she refreshes the page on the sports page on the school website, itching to see her son’s name.
Carter had tryouts with the hockey team last week, he had been talking about it since the beginning of the month. He was training every day to make varsity; in leagues ever since he was ten years old every single coach and spectator could not brag enough on how much talent he had. Y/N was pressured to send him across the country, even out of the country, to go to the top hockey camps but as a single mother she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to send her baby off to some strangers for a few months, and she couldn't afford to move away from family either.
But her heart dropped as she refreshed the page, pulled up this season's roster, and saw her son’s name and number on the junior varsity roster instead of varsity. She didn’t understand it, she was told by the coaches herself that he was the best kid on the ice that day. Why didn’t he make varsity?
Her questions were interrupted by students flooding into the classroom for the start of the next period. She pulled herself out of her thoughts to then teach this class period. Reluctantly though.
-
The final bell rang and that meant she was done for the day. Saying goodbye to her students Y/N started to gather papers and put them in the “to grade” folder to take home with her before tidying up some areas of the room. She anticipated her son’s arrival. Ever since moving up to high school he always stopped by her room at the end of the day to talk about school and help her carry things to her car.
“I didn’t make it.” Carter said as a greeting when he walked in the empty room. His face was defeated, his tall slender frame was slumped over in sadness and his eyes welling with tears. Out of all people Y/N knew and saw how hard he worked to make varsity his freshman year. He skated over fifty laps a day, worked on shots in the garage until way past dusk, he also started to lift more weights.
“Oh baby, c’mere,” Y/N pulled her much taller son in for a hug. There he broke and rested into his mother's arms like a little kid again. He softly cried before pulling away.
“I don’t get it mom, they told me i’d make it for sure, why would he tell me-”
“Don’t worry about it son, I will talk to the coach first thing in the morning. I promise. But for now you have to play the cards you were dealt,” Y/N consoled her son in the way moms know how. Gathering her bags she gave the heaviest one to Carter to help carry out the building. They continued chatting on the way to her car, talking about school and homework he had for the week. Carter was a special kid, he deeply cared about his grade and education. He remembers promising his mom when he was younger that if he ever got to play hockey in college that he would get his degree and not go to the draft early.
Carter was a momma’s boy through and through. His dad lived an hour away so he spent the weekends there twice a month, but he’s at his mom’s house the rest of the time. Carter is also protective of his mom too. He never told her this, but he’s beat in a couple boys’ faces because they made some lewd comments about her. He’s respectful of her, more than any other man on earth ever has been. Y/N is very proud of how she’s raised her son.
“Okay son, go to practice. Have a positive attitude, don’t do anything stupid okay? I know you’re frustrated but just go into practice and do you, maybe they got you mixed up with someone else. But-” she saw his facial expressions change and get tense, she knew that he was still angry inside, “hey, don’t get mad at them. Wait until I talk and then you and I will figure something out.”
They walked in opposite directions, Carter to the athletic building and Y/N back to the school for one more item in her classroom. Hustling as best she can so she can get home, she runs into the person she didn’t want to speak to until in the morning. Coach Crosby.
She felt her body coil and tense up in anger at just the sight. She was supposed to wait until morning, but her tongue got the best of her.
“Coach! Hey, can I ask you a quick question?” she pulls him to the side, into an empty classroom where the teacher had left for the day.
“What’s up?” Sidney asked, sitting down on one of the wooden desks. He was wearing black joggers, a tight pullover with a school cap on. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the material of his clothing clung to his toned body. He had been out of the professional league for at least two years, but he still kept up the physical shape of his body, and it was obvious by the way his pants were stretching at the seams on his thighs.
“I really don’t want to be that parent, but can you tell me why Carter didn’t make varsity?” Sidney cocks his head to the side. He’s only been on sight three months and he’s already dealing with this.
“Well, it’s my understanding that freshmen must be on the JV team, no matter how good they are. That rule was put in place before I got here.” He explained while crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles making his pullover look incredibly small on his frame. “He’s a good kid though, he’ll make great improvements this year and I'll look forward to having him on varsity next year.” Sidney said, trying to end the conversation and smooth things over.
“But…you’re the new coach. This is your program now, not someone else’s.” Y/N couldn’t really understand what he was getting at. Did he not see the potential in her son that everyone seemed to say? Did he not see the great player, the great athlete that Carter was? Maybe it was just her being a mother, and so obviously her child is the best compared to other kids. But she swore she didn’t want to be like those parents. She remembers being a kid in youth sports herself and hated parents who thought their kid should be player of the week every week. In her mind, she needed to earn player of the week because of her work ethic, not because her parents were board members.
“Right but I'm not trying to ruffle any feathers my first year. This is barely my program, I need to establish relationships before I change things here,” Y/N takes a step closer to Sidney, her hands folded in front of her.
“But you’re Sidney Crosby, who can say no to you?” God she feels horrible for doing this, she feels like…like some junior league mom whose husband has nothing between his ears. But she thinks, if she can just rile him up for a minute, startle him, then he’ll change his mind and put Carter on varsity. That’s her end goal, get her son feeling better. If that means pretending to be a horny college student again, so be it. “I mean really, they had to give you this job cause they trust you. So obviously you can do what you want, like putting my son on your varsity team.”
He sighs, looking down at his shoes. He knows what she’s doing…and he can’t believe it’s sort of working. He hasn’t had a woman flirt with him in heaven knows how long. He doesn’t even know how to respond to such a thing anymore. His life for the past almost twenty years has been nothing but hockey. Sidney’s family has been asking him for a long time when he is going to settle down with someone, but nobody ever scratched that itch quite like hockey did. But now? That he’s got a woman in front of him, a gorgeous one at that, who’s buttering him up? Maybe he’ll give in…just to see what it feels like.
“Your son is a hell of a player, Y/N. He really could go far,” His words got heavier as she got closer, he could smell her perfume, he could feel her breath, he could see her chest move up and down with every huff she took- “so put him on your team, Coach.” she put her hand on his chest softly and she sighed feeling his stern muscles. “C’mon, what’s it gonna take? Dinner and a show?”
His eyes, dark and blown, looked into hers and if he remembers what the term eye fucking means then that’s exactly what they were doing. His breaths became short but heavy as she left a heavy hand on his chest. She rubbed her thumb over his cheek, trying her best to work her charm that she used to have. She hopes she’s still got it.
He thinks, thinks, and thinks. This is a bad decision.
“My place, six thirty tomorrow evening. Give me your best sales pitch, and we’ll see about the show.”
Sidney stands up and for a brief second his nose bumps hers, an innocent touch but it makes him take a deep breath in to calm himself down. He exits the empty class room and takes long strides to get to practice, glancing at his watch he’s already a few minutes behind.
-
She’s eternally grateful that Carter is with his dad this weekend. How could she explain to him that she’s not really going on a date…but she’s going to his coach's house with plans to seduce him..but again it’s not a date. Of course, she’d have to leave out the seducing part. She put on her best dress that she had, it was pretty simple but it hugged her figure nicely. She made sure to spritz some extra perfume on as well.
The drive to Sidney’s house is silent, it’s her having fake conversations in her head about what to say or what not to say. Debating on if her seduction speech was still on date or if it’s too cheesy now. She suddenly feels like she lives in the lowest tax bracket possible when entering his neighborhood; she's never seen so many fake lawns before. She’s actually never been on this side of town much, except to look at christmas lights when Carter was younger. Now that he’s older he doesn’t care for that stuff anymore.
“Nice place you’ve got,” she said walking into his entry way. To her surprise Sidney dressed up a little bit, wearing a button up with a nice pair of slacks, the top two buttons undone for visual purposes of course. He takes her coat and her purse, hanging it up by the door. “What’s on the menu?”
“Well, I figured I'd go simple with just spaghetti and toast, with dessert to follow if that’s okay.” Sidney went into his pantry and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “This okay?” He holds the bottle in the air and she nods her head, sitting at his kitchen bar watching him pour a glass. She takes a glance at the label and she’s taken back. On her teacher salary she definitely can’t afford that brand.
Maybe she’s in over her head here- she didn’t think about any of this stuff. Suddenly she’s this woman who doesn’t have much to her name, sitting in a millionaire’s kitchen drinking wine that costs well over two hundred dollars- but damn if it doesn’t taste good.
They make small talk before heading into the dining room where he sets dinner onto the table for her, such a gentleman. Continuing the semi dull conversation she thanks him for making a meal for her, joking that she’s never had a man make dinner for her. Only half true, her dad growing up would make dinners for her family. But when she married Carter’s dad, she was the chef in the family. Not that she was complaining, it was just odd for her to be on the reverse side for the first time in a while.
“I am sorry about that idiotic rule, Y/N. Carter can easily be a varsity player.” Sidney broke the minute silence after finishing off his second glass of wine that night. She huffs, finishing her plate and scooting it away from her on the table. Was she really about to do this?
“Is there anything I can do, sidney? C’mon my boy’s in shambles, he’s thinking that he’s not as good as everyone makes him out to be,” Y/N reaches her hand out to rest on his softly. “Is there anything I can do?”
Y/N hoped he knew what she was implying and that she didn’t have to say it out loud.
And he did.
He understood every word she said and the words that were left unsaid. He knew what she was implying and he knew what she was getting at. But Sidney hated that he was willing to do what she wanted. Y/N was leaning forward on the table, getting close enough to Sidney where he could smell her perfume and her lotion mixed together, he could see a couple small freckles up close as he couldn’t see them from a bit further away.
There were no words exchanged between them, his eyes kept drifting from her tinted lips to her lustful eyes, back and forth a couple times before resting his hand on her cheek and pressing his lips against hers gently. Immediately he felt a rush of arousal- it’s just a kiss, really? He silently asked himself. He hadn’t gotten this aroused in a while, a long while.
Both parties leaned into the kiss, wanting and aching for more. They tasted wine on each other and felt each other’s temperature begin to rise. Sidney got out of his chair, lips still connected to hers, and got closer. She stood up, one hand cupping his chin and the other resting on his chest, and she leaned against the dining table. She hadn’t made out with someone in years, she hopes she’s doing it right.
She gets pushed onto the table just by the force of his body so now she’s sitting on the wooden table, Sidney standing in between her legs with both of his hands cupping her face. He doesn’t care if he seems desperate or if he seems needy, or if this is totally wrong and against almost all of the words he signed in his contract, he can’t seem to get enough of her. Sidney feels her play with the buttons of his shirt and how she begins to pull the shirt up and out of his dress pants. It was easy since he wasn’t wearing a belt.
He didn’t even know that she completely unbuttoned his shirt until he felt her hands roam all over his naked chest, her hands slowly raking up and down his toned muscles. He takes a breath and scans her body. Her skin is hot to the touch, her eyes are completely blown now and her lips are parted. “How do I get this off you?” he asked, taking a fist of the hem of her dress.
“There's a tie in the back,” she huffed out, not able to take her hands off his body. Plus, she wants him to take it off of her.
“You tied this yourself?” he asked in shock, surprised at how she tied such a perfect bow on her back with such thin strings.
“I’ve been tying, zipping, buttoning my dresses myself for the past twelve years now, safe to say I got pretty good at it.” God- has she been alone for the past twelve years? Nobody to love on, kiss on, touch on this wonderful body of hers? Sidney takes in a sharp breath when he pulls the dress off of her and he gives her body a quick scan over. Wearing a strapless bra that she’s almost spilling out of, she has on silk leopard print panties that he can’t help but notice a significant damp spot on.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, hands roaming over her soft skin. “Don’t make fun of me, it’s been a long time since I've hooked up with someone.” because that’s just what this is, a hookup. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I haven’t since I got divorced, so it's the same here.” she hooks her leg around his pulling him closer. He pressed his lips against hers again this time most softly. His hand goes down to play with the hem of her panties, “you sure about this?”
“Very sure, don’t mess with a pissed off mama sidney.” she pulls him down with her as she lays down on the table. He kisses down her body, she arches her back and lets him take her bra off. Tossing it onto the floor Sidney wraps his lips around one of her hardened nipples. She lets out a heavenly sounding moan at the action.
It’s been so long she could cum just from Sidney doing this for a couple minutes longer. One hand slips down over her clothed cunt, rubbing her sensitive and wet area. She arches her body into his, already she’s lost in a great euphoric high that she can’t even mumble words. All that’s coming out is moans and gasps.
He removes his mouth and Sidney stands up, she watches up on her elbows as he takes his pants off and removes his boxers. She bites her lip at the size - the sight - of his hardened dick in his hand. She reaches out for it herself, “you’ll give me what I want, and I promise you won’t regret it.” he thought for a moment too long, she began to doubt herself but he spoke up, “deal.”
She licks her hand before taking a grip on his cock. Slowly she starts stroking up and down, keeping harsh eye contact with sidney. She gives him a nice squeeze and a twist of her hand which makes him throw his head back in pleasure. He can only do so much with his hand, it’s nice to have someone else for a change. Y/N scoots closer to him on the table, with one of his hands he works his hand over one of her breasts softly massaging it. She leans into his touch and continues to work her hands over his hard cock.
He moves his hand from her breast down and slips it into her soaked panties. At first his fingers were a little cold but they quickly warmed up after being immersed in her sex. He circles around her clit a couple times, getting familiar with the female body again. He explores for a minute or two, his middle finger teasing her hole. The more he teases her the harder her grip gets on his cock. He pulls his hand out of her panties, they’ve never broken eye contact this whole time and he sucks everything off of his hand. God that was hot.
Sidney removes her hand from his cock fearing if she kept going he would cum all over her hand and that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He’s panting heavy now, his body forming sweat on his forehead. He pushes her down onto the table with a palm on her chest lining his cock up with her entrance, “wait do I need any-”
She chuckles, “that ship sailed a while ago, just fuck me like you mean it coach.”
With her permission she slides in and she lets out a long, loud, moan as he does it. He wants to hear that on repeat for the rest of his life, he swears. Sidney puts both hands on her hips, keeping her body steady as he rocks in and out of her, his hips meeting her every time.
Sidney allows to feel himself in her warm, wet walls. He throws his head back in pleasure and she shuts her eyes tight. Her hands come up to her breasts to add to the pleasure, fingers pinching both of her nipples as she feels his huge cock pump in and out of her small hole. He feels like he’s three feet deep inside of her, he feels lost in how good she feels. His head grows foggy each time he squeezes her.
Sidney hits the spongy spot in her tight cunt that made her gasp out in pleasure, she sang his name like a chant over and over which made him fuck her harder and harder. She warned him about her orgasm and he did the same, begging her to cum with him. A few more pumps of his cock he spilled his heavy load inside of her and she moaned loudly like a queen when he did. He pulled his cock out of her, watching his load spill out with it.
Maybe it was the post orgasm haze she was in, maybe it was the lovestruck feeling she had the minute they began making out, but minutes later she’s standing between him and the cold shower wall. His forehead pressed against hers. His fingers knuckle deep in her cunt and a hand wrapped around her throat as hot water rained down on either of them, her cunt squeezing his thick fingers while she couldn’t even say anything but his name. That’s exactly what he wanted.
The hot shower water kept her eyes shut but she knew that he was gazing at her. He was in awe of her facial expressions, how she bit her lip through a smile with every jerk he made with his hand, when she furrowed her eyebrows when she was on the edge of cumming, and how she cocked her head to the side while he kissed around her neck silently asking for more.
He took his hand away from her pussy, licking the honey off his fingers. He stayed that close to her though knowing her legs were probably jello and she wasn’t able to stand for at least a minute or two.
She took a deep breath, “got what you wanted?” she asked in a joking tone, moving her hand up and down his chest in the hot steamy shower. He chuckled, his hands never leaving her body. He palmed her breasts, he seemed to have a thing for those she contemplated, heavy lustful eyes staring into hers.
“How many more you got in you?” he asked, spreading her legs with his thigh.
“I can give you as much as you want.” Y/N answered, her hands slowly roaming down lower and lower on his chest and stomach.
“Then no, I didn’t get what I want yet.”
-
She woke up in Sidney’s bed the next morning with messy hair and sore muscles. Looking over on the nightstand the clock read 8:02 AM. She was glad that it was a Saturday and she was able to sleep in. She saw that Sidney was still asleep, he laid on his stomach with his head facing the other way. Looking over his back, studying the freckles, the faded scars. Y/N wants to stay in this moment for as long as she can.
She hates to admit but she really fell for Sidney. Not because of how skilled he was in bed, or because he could do wicked things with his hands, but she shared a few heartfelt conversations with him before tryouts even began.
He cared for the kids at school, the kids he taught and the kids he coached. He had a heart for the coming generation. He wanted them to have someone in their corner, and some kids don’t have that at home and he wants to be that. She got lovestruck in the past few months, sure she never planned on sleeping with him, she felt young again with how big of a crush she had. It went straight to her head, it all moved so fast.
God if her mother were still here she could just hear the word “slut!” come out of her mouth if her mom found out what happened. But she wouldn’t care. She enjoyed it, and she was sure Sidney enjoyed it too.
But still, she can’t help but think to herself what did I just do?
Sidney turns his head and sees that she’s also awake. Raising up he sees the time, 8:10. He doesn’t even care that he missed his morning workout session an hour late. He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer to him, tucking his head in her neck. With dry lips Sidney placed a tender lingering kiss on her hot skin.
It might be worth it for once, she thinks.
feedback | masterlist | au tag
tagging mutuals to boost, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged! @fallinallincurls @nylwnder @bitchinbarzal @ilyasorokinn @leafsbabe @twinklelilstarkey @raysofcrosby @lcandothisallday
#j's writing#sidney crosby#coach!sidney#sidney crosby x reader#sidney crosby imagine#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl writing#nhl smut#sidney crosby smut#nhl x you#smut#drabble#blurb
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( 📁 ) THINGS THEY DO TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU PT. 2
synopsis: luffy realizes he does love you (aka the happy ending you deserved 🤧)
character: luffy
warning: angst to comfort/fluff, nickname
mei's note: the part 2 of this prequel, idk what happened in the prequel tbh, the angst just suddenly appeared 😔.. hope you enjoy <3
tag list!: @ahseyy @natalieisfreeziing @rotin0 @entr4p3 @atanukileaf @muichirouswifeandhusband @dashcrashbash @constawrites @maisieisbae @kittekat420 @matronofthevoid @miamorloves @idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames @aannsa @dohkyu @alicee-carter @wanderer-is-love @finnlikesyourmom77
he thought he'd feel better. he thought he'd be relieved. relieved from your constant needs of love and affection, relieved from the facade he'd been putting up to minimize the damage you'd take on when he'd finally break it off between you two. he deluded himself into thinking he did the right thing for you and him. his excuse for breaking you? he lost the need for you. he lost the sparkles in his eyes whenever he'd see you smile his way. and so, he thought it was for the best to do what he did.
but if it were for the best, then why? why is his heart aching the second he sees you, the morning after he unofficially broke it off with you, with eyebags underneath your eyes and slightly swollen cheeks from all your crying? why does he feel the sudden need to embrace you in his arms and nuzzle his face in the warmth of your neck? why is the memory of you playing with his fingers, while the two of you shiver on deck with a blanket wrapped around you, haunting his mind? is it normal for him to want to hold you and tell that you he still loves you, that he was wrong for every pushing you away from him, that he wants to ramble on and on to you about all the little things he adores about you? the little things ranging from the soft smile you always present to others even if you're upset, to how you always take on the role of waking everyone up in the morning for breakfast or when you slightly tilt your head to the side whenever you get confused, usually to the right, or how you routinely help sanji out with the meals he makes, hoping to lift some pressure off his shoulders.
which, all of a sudden, really bothers luffy. the way you're standing way too close to the blonde cook, and how he rests his hand on your shoulder, asking you what's wrong, is really starting to irritate him. have you moved on from him so easily, so quickly? was what you two had so negligible? just then, he realized how ironic he was being. because he was the one that left you shaking and sobbing, he was the one that broke you down and didn't even bother to pick you back up, he was the one that took hurt you, yet here he was eyeing sanji like he took you away from luffy.
"darling, you look a little tired. are you sure you're up for helping me with breakfast?" sanji questions, worried about your state. "i'm fine, sanji. thanks for asking, though.." you send him a tired smile. each time you blink, you keep your eyes closed a little longer than before, resulting from you staying up all night crying into your pillow. sanji immediately notices and swiftly, but carefully, takes the knife in your hands away from you before you accidentally chop your fingers off. "that's enough helping out of you today." with that he picks you up, bridal style, and walks you out of the kitchen. "wha- sanji! what're you doing?" you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. "you're going to take a long, nice, nap, sweetheart."
he brings you to your shared bedroom with nami before telling you to call him if you need anything. all this not being missed by luffy, as he's glued his eyes on you the minute he saw you. your strawhat captain waited patiently for sanji to, finally, leave your room before he made his way to you.
"hey-" luffy started, for the first time ever being self-conscious about how to start a conversation with you. he sat on the end of your bed, waiting for something better to come out of his mouth, or out of yours.. to no avail. "talk to me.." he stammered, desperate for a comment from you. you sit up straight in your bed, pulling your knees up for you to rest your chin on. "what do you want me to say?" you voiced, barely louder than a whisper. you feel nothing by seeing him sitting by your feet, or at least, you can't express what you're feeling as a result of all your emotions and feelings being cried out of your body, last night. "anything- just, talk to me.. please?"
you let out a small sigh before leaning against the headboard of your bed. "if i had the energy to, i'd have slapped you ten times by now." you disclose, rolling your eyes at the black-haired guy scooting closer to you. he made it to your pulled up knees, leaning on the side of your leg. he was waiting for you to continue, looking at you patiently. "and if i could, i'd throw you off the ship, just to see you suffer a little bit before zoro or sanji save you.." your eyes start to get watery as you try your hardest not to shed one more tear in front of him. "if i could, i would burn that straw hat of yours so you'd feel a little of what i was feeling all this time!" you were surprised, you thought you had cried out all of your tears but here you were, waterstreams flowing ou to your eyes. "and you know what sucks the most? i could never do those things to you because i care way too fucking much about someone that doesn't about me!"
his heart clenched when hearing those words come out of your mouth. seeing you crying because of him, yet again. normally, this would be the moment he walks out to clear his head. but he can't, not now. luffy realized during the time he was "acting" like he cared for you, loved you, adored you, he fell for you. he didn't mean to, he didn't, and we would've never realized it, but here he was, his arms wrapped around you, your face placed on his chest resulting in his shirt soaking in your tears, his hand on your waist another on the back of your head as your grip on his tear-soaked t-shirt slowly loosens. for what felt like the first time, you knew he cared, he wanted to be there with you, he needed you as much as you needed him.
"you better not walk out anymore, luf'.." you mumble, melting in his embrace. "i won't, you've got me for good now, my sunshine. for good.." he smiles, finally feeling at peace, with you, his love.
mei's note: SO. hope this was a good happy ending 🤧 !! mwuah, love you <3
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#luffy x reader#one piece luffy#straw hat luffy#monkey d. luffy#luffy#luffy x y/n#luffy x you#angst#fluff#comfort#op x reader#x reader#op x you#sanji x y/n#sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji#one piece sanji#sanji#sanji x you
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Bucky Barnes
Alpha!Bucky
1) Alpha!Bucky Drabble by @vanillanaps
2) Heart and Soul by @all1e23
Complete Series
3) Little Red Riding Hood by @holylulusworld
Dark
4) Need You Now by @angrythingstarlight
Smut
5) The Start of Something New by @navybrat817
Featuring: Hal Carter
Omega!Reader
Ongoing
Smut in later parts
Angst
1) Question by @bluehourbucky
Cheating
2) Stuff of Fairy Tales by @hannibals-favourite-meal
Complete Series
Plus Size Reader
Pregnancy
Sex Pollen
3) The Ultimatum by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
Ex-Boyfriend Angst
4) Waiting on the Corner by @holylulusworld
College AU
Biker!Bucky
1) Kiss Me Like You Mean It by @angrythingstarlight
Fluff
Implied Smut
2) Roar & Giggle by @holylulusworld
Ongoing Series
Boyfriend!Bucky
1) Can You Not by @buckyalpine
Exhibitionism (later parts)
Reader’s Ex
2) Measurements by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
Fluff
Tall Reader
3) So Perfect by @bloodredwolfsbane
Fluff
4) Something New by @beanthesprout
Smut
5) Take the Trash Out by @splendidreads
Angst
Reader’s Ex
Dark
1) Make You Feel My Love by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor
2) Wrong Number by @targaryenvampireslayer
Drunk!Bucky
1) Clingy by @sleepypanda27
2) Drunk Baker!Bucky by @angrythingstarlight
Dirty Jokes
Implied Smut
3) Drunk Bucky Drabble by @pellucid-constellations
4) Drunk Words Are Sober Truths by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky
5) Guess What’s On Your Mind by @tellmealovestory
Angst
Insecure Reader
6) Guys Night by @teamcap4bucky
Featuring: Avengers
Injuries
Mentions of vomit
7) I Think I Wanna Marry You by @likeahorribledream
8) Maybe Later by @lovelybarnes
9) Sober Thoughts by tropicalcap (Deactivated account)
10) You Know What Rhymes With Drunk? Sex by @seventven
Implied Smut
Fairy Tale AU
1) The Unseen One by @extremelyblackandwhite
Complete Series
Hades!Bucky
Fluff
1) Anything to Make You Smile by @takenbypeter
2) Best Boyfriend You Never Had by @language-rxgers
Fake Boyfriend
Complete Series
3) Big Fan by @bubblessunshinehoney
Ongoing Series
4) Happy Little Accidents by @espinosaurusrexex
Veteran!Bucky
5) The Life by @hesthermay
6) Little Black Dress by @thefallenbibliophilequote
Insecure Reader
Plus Size Reader
7) Tall Drink of Water by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
Tall Reader
8) You Are Beautiful by @holylulusworld
Ongoing Series
Plus Size Reader
Fuckboy!Bucky
1) Send Nudes by @bucky-barnes-diaries
Implied Smut
Nudity
Librarian!Bucky
1) Face Sitting by @bucky-barnes-diaries
Smut
2) Once Upon a Time by @navybrat817
Mafia AU
1) A deal with Bee by @angrythingstarlight
Fluff
2) Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight
Smut
3) Owned by @jobean12-blog
Smut
4) Passionate Negotiations by @targaryenvampireslayer
Smut
5) Plot Twist by @winterarmyy
Arranged Marriage
Mini-Series
Smut in later parts
6) Power Play by @late-to-the-party-81
Ongoing Series
Smut
Soft!Dark
7) Promise by @straywords
Smut
8) Trespassing by @sebstan2020
Dark Fic
9) Your Hands On Me by @slyyywriting
10) Your Love Gets Sweeter Every Day by @povlvr
Series
Omega!Bucky
1) A Touch Too Far by @angrythingstarlight
2) I Am Sorry Alpha by @bucky-boo-bear
3) Where the Shivers Won’t Find You by @heli0s-writes
Alpha!Reader
Smut
Series
1) Baker!Bucky by @angrythingstarlight
Fluff
Ongoing Series
Smut
2) Keeping Me Up by @writing-for-marvel
Complete Series
3) You Will be the Death of Me by @fluffysucker
Angst
Completed Series
Ex-husband!Bucky
Fluff
Some Smut
Smut
1) Beard Burn by @biteofcherry
Featuring: Ari Levinson
2) Fitness Pack - Bucky by @holylulusworld
Personal Trainer!Bucky
Plus Size Reader
Smut in Part 2
3) Lumberjack!Bucky Drabble by @angrythingstarlight
4) Midsummer Night’s Dream by @jamesbuckybarnes1917
5) Overtime by @navybrat817
Featuring Jake Jensen
6) Petals by @biteofcherry
Sex Pollen
7) Pluvious by @buckymorelikefuckme
8) Sleepless Nights by @kikixreverie
Soft Dark/Stalker!Bucky
1) Follow You Home by @navybrat817
2) Permission by @silver-pieces
3) Sleeping With a Friend by @rubynationwins
Plus Size Reader
Somnophilia
Soulmate AU
1) Heartbeat for a Biker by @definitely-a-nerd
Winter Soldier
1) Kidnapped by @buckgasms
Dark
Smut
2) Sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3
Smut
Soft Dark
3) Welcome Home...Soldat? by @winterarmyy
Light smut
4) Winter Soldier is a Match Maker by @universitypenguin
Dark/Soft Dark?
Smut
#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky master list#bucky masterlist#winter soldier master list#winter soldier masterlist#bucky x plus size reader#alpha!bucky#omega!bucky#soft dark!bucky#mafia!bucky#boyfriend!bucky#fuckboy!bucky#librarian!bucky#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#biker!bucky#drunk!bucky#drunk!bucky barnes
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DAUGHTER LESSONS | a joel miller oneshot
masterlist
summary: would it kill joel to just touch you?
warnings: established relationship, infidelity, jackson-era, no mention of age, angst
author's note: so... i have been disgustingly obsessed with COWBOY CARTER (duh! i have taste) and have fixated on the duality of daddy lessons and DAUGHTER, which thereby produced this lovechild of the two. you guys know i love me some religious imagery and angst...
Nothing could’ve confined you to a pew in your youth.
Your knees had breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of a blood-red kneeler when you were granted Sunday morning autonomy. Only your grandmother’s morbid prophecies of watching mass from above this time next year herded you between the rows of wooden benches at Easter and Christmas.
Maybe it was her you were trying to reach; chin tipped to the ceiling as if you would be overcome with the smell of potpourri and Irish coffee, heart flooded with all the right answers.
Still, nothing good came.
“Didn’t expect t’find you in here.” His familiar drawl pricks at the hairs on your neck.
“I was trying out solitude.”
Joel had always moved with surprising stealth for someone of his build, but nothing he did these days surprised you anymore.
You had given him everything since meeting shortly after his and Ellie’s arrival in Jackson. It hadn’t taken long for you to witness his undoing.
But this time, Joel doesn’t move.
Rather, he stands in the middle of the aisle taking in the sight of you on your knees four rows ahead and to his left. Your hands are clasped so tightly together he can see the whites of your knuckles from this far back.
Joel knows the back of your head more intimately than he probably should.
You have a habit of turning away from him in bed at night the second you were overcome by the smallest amount of fatigue.
Too damn hot you would mumble from your tenure of the mattress. And he can’t say he minded too much.
Often, he would reach a hand to your hair spilling across the pillow onto his side before regaining sense and propping the hand underneath his head instead.
During your waking hours, languidly reciting the steps of your morning routine around his small kitchen, he feels the want to touch you.
He wants to smooth down the hair that always bobbled around the raised birthmark on your scalp. He wants to feel your cheek against the knuckle of his right index finger. He wants to take the coffee cup from your hands and engulf them in the warmth of his instead.
“She’s not here.” You mumble, so quietly that he’s not sure if that’s what you’ve actually said.
“Who?” He braves, wiping his sweating palms on the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
You respond with a scoff, confirming his hypothesis.
Of course she isn’t here. You both know very well that she isn’t here.
When Tommy had first introduced the two of you, he’d cornered Joel at the bar while ordering their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks.
“She’s a good woman, Joel.”
“I’m figuring that out just fine.” He’d smirked, taking a preliminary sip of his beer before glancing back at you. Your elbows were perched on the wooden table, chin resting on your palms as you exchanged low-looks and snickers with Maria sat across from you.
“No, you don’t get it. She’s good. She’s kind. Her daddy’s the pastor here.”
“Not settin’ me up with a Bible basher are you, little brother? She gon’ make me wait until I give her a ring?”
He’d felt like an ass as soon as he’d opened his mouth, which was made worse by Tommy’s unchanging expression. He didn’t look irate or tired of Joel’s age-old shit – the face behind his warning was unwaveringly sincere.
“Just don’t hurt her.”
And in that moment, Joel couldn’t fathom anything as desacrating as hurting you. He had returned Tommy’s solemnity with a nod and carried your drinks back to your table; the remainder of the night blurring into the rest of his life.
He hadn’t fallen in love with you that night. Joel is stubborn in love, and it took months of langorous warmth to thaw his roughness.
You didn’t make him wait for a ring.
Nights spent in symphony with one another were the only moments Joel could bring himself to touch you. There, he knew how to work his hands, his tongue, his hips. Not once would he hesitate in reaching out to smooth a thumb across your forehead. He moved like a river, flowing into your body in desperation to meet the ocean.
And you wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he knew that he was doing it at all. Passing him in the intimacy of his home or the vastness of the food hall, you were only ever hungry for his skin against yours.
Slowly, you crept into his skin through his pores. You made his days sweeter and smoother wherever and however you could, hoping perhaps one evening his fingers would brush yours as you set a plate on the table before him.
But here you rise, swallowed in the rosy light of dawn with damp cheeks and all faith robbed from your chest.
“I can’t do this here, Joel.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and attempt to put as much distance between the two of you as you pass him in the aisle.
“Then don’t. Come home.”
For a second he debates reaching out to you, wrapping you in his arms and letting you beat against his chest as your body racks with sobs. But the moment soon escapes him and he’s following you into the morning air.
“I buried my home a week ago.” You spoke flatly, bones void of any remnants of anger or fight. “You know what my daddy told me before he died?”
He thinks he does. Moreso, he can hazard a guess.
Nevertheless, he can’t quite seem to find his voice as you bring yourself to a halt. The morning sun peeks between the buildings behind you.
“Told me one day you’d play me for a fool. And look at me now.” You shook with breathy laughter. “He’s in the ground and there’s another woman keeping the man I love’s bed warm.”
Jackson would soon be rising with the sun. It had almost been a full day since you’d come home from patrol an hour earlier than Joel expected.
In truth, it hadn’t been the clothes strewn over kitchen chairs and draped over the bannisters. Not even the warm smell of salt and latex that hit you before you’d opened the bedroom door.
Joel’s fingers grazed the small of her back, tracing lazy shapes up and down her spine. Your stomach tightened into a small fist, losing all composure you had truly tried to maintain in your ascent up to the bedroom.
You had never even really been one to fight. Your father had taught you to handle yourself, and you’d learnt what was necessary to survive in the new world.
Really, you wanted to pollute the skin beneath Joel’s touch. You wanted for him to never touch anything beautiful again; to never grasp at cold cotton sheets in the middle of the night; to never feel the slow threat of rain tapping against his skin.
Life began to creep in around the two of you. Ellie and Tommy would soon come looking for Joel to set off on morning patrol.
“One day, Joel, someone is going to give you exactly what you deserve. And I pray to God that I’m there to see it.”
You turn on your heel, leaving Joel to watch as your hair sways from side-to-side down your back. He swallows the lump formed in his throat and tilts his chin to the sky, blinking away the threat of tears moistening his lower lashes.
He wipes his hands against his jeans and straightens his torso, forcing a low cough to clear his throat.
Peaches, he thinks. Tonight he will bring you peaches, and he will watch as the juice spills from the side of your mouth. He will reach a thumb to wipe it away, and he will hold you. For as long as you let him; as long as he breathes.
#joel miller x f!reader#joel tlou#the last of us#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#my fic#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller tlou#joel miller fanfic#joel x reader#tlou hbo#tlou#tlou2#dee writes
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9. the fear of what's to come
Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.
Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.
Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.
Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk
If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!
Words: 3088
Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist
You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another.
You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved.
Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.
You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway.
“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her.
You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away.
Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven.
But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another.
Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.
You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either.
You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning.
Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose.
You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.
You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel.
You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.
Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.
The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing.
Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult.
The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.
Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him.
You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?”
You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”
“So it was twins?”
“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler.
“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep.
He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.
“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow.
“I’m pregnant.”
His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes.
His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder.
“How long have you known?”
There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming.
“Beginning of August.”
“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”
“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-”
You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you?
You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other.
You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now.
You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”
“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm.
He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.”
You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.”
He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?
“I should’ve been more careful.”
You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”
Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”
“Me too.”
Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him.
“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”
You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt.
“How long do we have?”
“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…”
“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster.
Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice.
You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body.
You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain.
One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first.
“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says.
“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table.
“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”
You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.
“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”
Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever.
The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips.
“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons.
Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”
“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.
“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you.
Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.
“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”
“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says.
Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”
Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”
“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it.
“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.
“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it.
Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”
You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”
Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”
You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say.
She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”
You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”
Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”
Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent.
“I told Tommy today.”
You nod.
“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”
That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”
Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”
“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him.
“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.
You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.
He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”
You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that.
You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”
His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”
“I think it’s a little late for that.”
He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read.
“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.”
“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”
“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”
Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.”
#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#hbo tlou#woman (joel miller)#woman (joel’s version)#woman#pedro stories#pedrostories#ppcu fanfiction#ppcu#pedro pascal characters
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Not an investment - Kaz Brekker x Reader
Summary: You try to forget Kaz with a man from the Crow Club. Kaz isn’t pleased at all. He finds a way to get rid of the guy, but you caught him. Kaz finally touches you for the first time.
Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Jealous Kaz.
A/N: I first wrote a draft of this when the first season of Shadow & Bone launched, i finally finished it, and wanted to share! I am so obsessed with Kaz! I might meet Freddy Carter on May, can’t wait but I am so scared at the same time!
———
You and the Crows had just accomplished another successful mission, earning each of you considerable money. The Crows had decided to throw a party to celebrate. Even Kaz had agreed to come. When Jesper asked him to join them, Kaz nodded, and Jesper cheered loudly, earning Kaz a grin.
Kaz Brekker had spent the last hour sitting with his arm on the bar, sipping a drink, and keeping an eye on the improvised dance floor. When the party began, Nina was already dancing, earning curious glances from both women and men. Jesper joined her after getting a few drinks. He tried to convince Inej to go dancing with him and Nina.
”You don’t want to go with them?“ You asked Inej, frowning.
”I do, but don’t tell them. Let them try to convince me.”
You nodded and asked the bartender for a strong drink. ”Make it two,” Inej said.
You watched her before glancing at the bartender.
”Tough night?” Inej asked.
You nodded again.
Inej didn’t bother to pry much; she knew each of you had your past. She knew how it felt to live with it, to live with the memories still there, haunting at night and even during the day... She knew better than to ask you about it.
The bartender arrived with both of your drinks. You thanked him and looked at Kaz, who was sitting at the other end of the bar, staring at people dancing and drinking in the Crow Club.
A man approached you. You didn’t see him coming; you were too caught up in stealing glances at Dirtyhands. The man took the seat next to you, and with a charming smile, he said:
“I didn’t take the infamous Ghost of Ketterdam for a drinker.”
You turned toward him, with a serious and almost warning look.
After all, you were the Ghost. If someone had a job to do, you were here. Looking for someone who disappeared? Easy. Stealing? As if you were a beginner. Taking revenge? Already done. Killing? Done. The Ghost was a shadow in Ketterdam. The kind of story that makes kids stay up all night. Rumors were you had no law, no faith and no humanity left. Oh, how wrong were they. If only they knew...
“What if I am?” You replied to the man.
”Even better.”
You grinned at him and decided to play the game.
“What about I offer you a drink?” He questioned, glancing at your body.
“I already have one, but go on.”
The man asked for another round of drinks, and the bartender complied.
”I didn’t think the Ghost was a beautiful woman like you.” He started, his eyes looking at his next prey.
Before, you would have punched that man hard in the face, but tonight, you didn’t care. You just wanted to have fun, and maybe it could involve him.
“Oh yeah? “
”Yes. Do you know how much people would pay to have you in their bed?”
You laughed and crossed eyes with Kaz. He was staring at you curiously. You thought it was a coincidence, but Kaz had been watching the whole time.
“I know.”
”Quite modest, I see.”
“I can be and do many things, you know?” You flirted, your head already spinning.
A little flirt was harmless, right? It wasn’t like it would change something. You stole another glance at Kaz, still sipping his drink in deadly silence. You knew there had always been something unspoken between the two of you, which you both probably wanted, but that was just impossible. Something that couldn’t be. So why not have fun with this silly man, you thought?
”I can only imagine.“ The man replied, his right hand stroking yours on the counter and his other hand on your knee.
”Let’s dance first.“
The man took your hand and complied, bringing you to the dance floor. The man danced with you, sometimes brushing your body. You didn’t care. Alcohol gave you confidence and relief. You danced closer to the man. And even closer. You both moved simultaneously, feeling the loud music and the alcohol in your veins. You could already feel the man’s arousal. But you didn’t care. You were trying to forget. Forget him and his stupid blue eyes. His silly cane. His silly waistcoats. Him. You just wanted to forget.
What you didn’t know was that Kaz Brekker couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to your form and this man. This Dreg. Oh, Kaz hated the man at this moment. His hand tightened around his cane.
The man touched you even more intimately, placing his hand on your thigh. Kaz was watching it all; his hand clenched in a fist. He couldn’t bear it anymore. He knew you had a few drinks and hated the idea of the man taking advantage of you. Or worse... Maybe you let him...
Dirtyhands whispered something to the bartender, and then a servant rushed anxiously towards you.
The servant asked for ‘Jake’ something and then told him that someone was waiting outside for him.
He nodded.
“Sweetheart, I need to take care of something, and then I am coming back for you. We’ll finish what we started.”He said, a smirk forming on his lips.
You consented, not understanding what was happening.
The man walked toward the backdoor leading to the streets. You took a deep breath and went back towards your seat. You finished your drink quickly and began to think.
‘What was I doing? Seriously? This man? I am the Ghost, for Saint’s sake, I deserve better.’
Feeling shameful, you wanted some fresh air to think clearly. Or maybe you just needed to flee. You rushed toward the door of the Crow Club and opened it.
There was ‘Jake’, his face bloody and bruised, held by the arms of two men taller than him.
What was going on?
That’s when you saw Kaz punching Jake in the face. The man spit blood, and Dirtyhands held his head in his gloved hand.
”If you dare touch her again, you are dead.”
Kaz was going to hit Jake with his cane, but your screaming interrupted him.
”What’s going on?“
Kaz nodded, and his men let Jake go. He didn’t think twice. Without looking at you once, the man flew in as he had arrived.
The men stared at Dirtyhands, waiting for his approval to leave. Kaz gestured, and they left.
”What’s going on? I won’t ask it again.“
“This stupid... man touched you.” He declared calmly, removing the blood from his sleeve.
”Yes, and?”
“He didn’t ask.”
”Because I let him. Do you genuinely think he would have touched me if I hadn’t allowed it? You know what I do and who I am.” You murmured.
Kaz’s blue eyes were avoiding your gaze, looking at the street and holding tightly onto his cane. He frowned.
”Why?“He questioned.
“Why? You dare ask why? You know damn well, Brekker.“
”Enlighten me with what I am supposed to know ‘damn well’.
He clenched his teeth, and you approached him dangerously. You plunged your eyes into his, almost begging him not to let you speak.
”I needed a distraction.”
“A distraction?” He questioned, wonder in his eyes.
“But we succeeded in the mission. We won thousands of kruge, Y/N.”
”I know.”
”Is it not enough for you? What do you need more? What do you need more than what thousands of Kruge can offer you?”
You repressed your tears. You were the Ghost after all, you couldn’t cry even if you wanted to.
“Thousands of Kruge can’t buy me you.” You whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear.
“Me?”
“Your name is Kaz Brekker, no? Or should I say Dirtyhands?“
A small smile escaped his lips, quickly replaced by sadness. He was staring at his gloved hands. What was he supposed to do? Tell you he felt the same, and offer you what exactly? He couldn’t even touch you.
“I was trying to forget you with this man, to forget the times you looked at me like I was an investment, when I came back from a mission hurt badly and you just said ‘good job’.
“What do I have that you might want?” He asked, his voice almost trembling.
Memories of Jordie flooded his mind. The times when they were happy, or at least tried to because they were together.
You didn’t reply, just watched him, the man you love.
“I can’t offer you anything, Y/N.” Kaz declared, approaching you with the most sincere look you’ve ever seen him with.
”I can’t offer you a crown, a throne, or even a palace. I can’t provide you the most precious jewels in the world. I can’t make you my queen, Y/N.”
”How romantic.” You finally spoke, crossing your arms.
”At least I have the decency not to lie to you.” He replied.
”I think I would have preferred you to lie.” You declared, trying to repress your tears again.
”What did you want me to say? That I would make you a Queen even though we live in Ketterdam, and would cover you with the most expensive jewels when we loot every day to survive? You would have wanted me to tell you that I cannot live without you, although touching you is unbearable to me? You would have liked me to tell you that I love you, right Y/N?
Eyes misted with tears, Y/N dared to meet his gaze. When Kaz saw that Y/N’s eyes were shining, he realized the magnitude of his words. He had always thought that by being cruel, he could push people away, keep them away, to avoid doing harm and, above all, be hurt. Things had gone wrong the last time he had loved someone, so how could he really trust his heart anymore?
Jordie.
His name echoed in his head when he looked at Y/N. He wanted to apologize, hug her, and kiss her lips, but he couldn’t.
He tried to take a step towards her to try to comfort her, but when his hand approached her bare arm, he resigned himself to it. He was shaking. Touching someone seemed impossible so how could he ask Y/N to stay? What could he offer her? A life of hidden gazes, impossible caresses, abstinence... Y/N deserved better. She could have had better. Nikolai Lantsov had always wanted her. All she had to do was say yes, and she would become the first Grisha Queen. Kaz had to admit Y/N would make an exquisite Queen. She was fair, and she only hurt when necessary. Y/N deserved a better life than a life in danger in Ketterdam. And if Pekka Rollins learned that Dirtyhands cared about her, he would seek to get rid of her by any means possible.
Y/N gazed at Kaz one last time before turning to the door. She was about to grab the handle when she felt pressure on her arm. Kaz was touching her.
“Don’t leave, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes.
“Is it a command, Boss? You asked, annoyed.
“It’s not.”
You observed Kaz’s face. For someone who didn’t know him, Kaz was emotionless. But at that moment, you knew he was vulnerable. His features were different. He seemed fragile. The bastard of the barrel seemed weak! You laughed in your head.
“Stay, please.” He begged you, the silence in his head unbearable.
You made a small move to get out of his grip. His hand fell against his body. And suddenly, he grabbed your hand. You stared at your hand in his gloved ones. Seeing your reluctance, he pulled his hand away and took off his gloves. Trying to calm his trembling, he reached for your delicate hand. His fingers brushed your skin, knuckles, and wrist, sending shivers down your whole body. Kaz was trying to memorize your hand, the veins in your wrists, your knuckles, to make it familiar, so that he wouldn’t be scared anymore.
“Can I?” He asked you.
You nodded, astonished to see Kaz Brekker asking for permission. He wasn’t one to ask. He always took and took. Never saying please. Never asking for permission. And here he was. All vulnerable in front of you.
He took your hand in his with hesitation and still trembling. Dirtyhands was trying his best to hide his fear in front of you. He was the bastard of the barrel. Everybody feared him, and yet he could not take your bare hand in his. He felt pathetic. He stared at your intertwined fingers for some time.
“What more can I offer you than what you already have?”
Your attention, your time, your love, your skin (maybe not), everything, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t. He was Kaz Krekker after all.
“I can’t make you happy, Y/N. You should go with Nikolai, he’ll know what to do. I can’t even kiss you, Y/N. I can’t, it’s pure torture. I can’t.”
One tear was slowly running across your cheek.
“I don’t want wealth or power. I don’t care about Saints.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Your love.“ You spitted.
Your hands were still intertwined, and that’s when Kaz noticed that while you were talking, he forgot about your hand in his, and for once, it had not disturbed him. It was brief, but he had felt your skin against his, the feeling of coldness and an almost delicate hand. He was staring at your hands with intensity, not knowing where his began and yours finished. The contact with your skin burned him, it was like caressing fire, feeling the unbearable heat against his fingers, against his palm, and yet he didn’t want to remove his hand from your painful skin.
“Kaz, look at me.”
You knew he was fighting his own demons, and it was not easy to hold your hand, and much less for a few minutes.
“Focus on my voice.”
He complied, and you dared take his hand and bring it to your face.
“I am here for you. Since the beginning, I have been here. Since the first day we looked at each other in this street, I knew everything would be different.”
While talking, you held his index finger in your tiny fingers compared to his. It was reaching dangerously for your cheek.
“Do you remember, Brekker, the first day we met?”
Kaz was trying his best to focus on your eyes, lips, on everything other than his fear to feel. It was finally this fear of hurting that made every touch burn. And you knew, you understood.
“I was pulling a dagger from my bleeding shoulder, sitting alone on the street, when you came. And do you remember what you said to me?”
You finally put his index finger delicately on your cheek. Step by step. You knew it would take time. Months and years, probably. But you were never a quitter after all.
Kaz chuckled, remembering this particular day when he thought that the Ghost everybody was scared of was just a little girl. Today, he knew he was wrong.
“You first said to me “Work for me, Ghost, and you’ll never have to pull out any dagger of your shoulders.”
Dirtyhands grinned, and with his index finger on your cheek, he explored your skin, still burning him. You removed your hand and laughed.
“You know, the day I met you, I knew you wanted me to work for you because I was taking all your contracts.”
He laughed again, and a second finger was caressing your cheek.
“I couldn’t let you take all the money.” Kaz replied, with this smirk you loved.”And you said ‘yes’ if I recall.”
“That I did. Though I did pull out many other daggers from my shoulder.” You spoke softly.
Another laugh, and he put a third finger on your face, stroking and trying to control his trembling. Still, he never dared remove his gaze from you.
“I know. I was planning a meeting with you for weeks, trying to find something to make you work for me. But you had no weakness, no secret that I knew of. I didn’t know what you were looking for.”
The tips of his three fingers were still on your skin, learning every wrinkle you would have, every scar, everything, even if it burned.
“That’s what made me so good, back then I had nothing to look for and nothing to lose.”
“And now?”
“Now, I have a goal, something to fight for, that’s what makes me fearsome.” You muttered and smiled at your words because you meant them.
Kaz smirked. He knew there were two kinds of people to fear: those who had nothing left to lose, and the ones who had everything to lose.
With sudden confidence, Kaz reached with one finger for your lips, trying to touch, and caress them. His trembling finger found your lip, he felt it, his deep blue eyes on yours. You were watching him with pride.
Maybe too greedy, Kaz wanted to feel your face with his hand, he tried to place all his fingers against your skin, but the burning was too powerful. Suddenly, he removed his hand, shivering.
“I-I am sorry.”He said, his armor falling back in place.
He saw Jordie’s face again. And he felt the skin of other corpses on his. It was warm. Too warm. It was burning him up. He was screaming, and nobody came.
“Kaz. Kaz! Look at me.”
He heard your voice calling in this ocean of corpses.
You didn’t touch him, but called his name.
“Kaz. You are with me. You are not there. Not anymore. Breathe. You are safe.”
He finally saw your eyes and where he was. In the middle of the street with you. He got up, dusted off his coat, and stared at you.
“Sorry, Y/N.”
He put back on his gloves and resumed leaning on his cane.
He was not only Kaz Brekker at this moment, but also Dirtyhands, and the bastard of the barrel. You smiled and glanced at his form as it left the room.
“The answer is this.”
The Bastard of the barrel turned to you and looked at your face, eyes full of silent interrogation.
“This is what I want, Kaz Brekker, and this is what you can offer me.”
You swore you could see a smirk escaping his lips. And this was the moment you knew you were not just an investment for Kaz Brekker.
———
If you loved this story, don’t forget to like, reblog and comment! I’d love to write more Kaz x reader with the OC “The Ghost” if there is enough interest, I’ll write more for Kaz!
#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker x fem!reader#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker x oc#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker#kaz brekker art#kaz brekker fanart#six of crows#six of crows fanart#six of crows fanfic#kaz x reader#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#nina zenik#shadow and bone#kaz dirtyhands brekker#dirtyhands#ketterdam#the barrel#kaz x inej#six crows#a feast for crows#crooked kingdom#leigh bargudo#leigh bardugo#kaz brekker x inej ghafa#kaz x you#kaz fucking brekker#touch aversion
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Happy Ending?
~ gif not mine credit to owner ~
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Future Bucky x fem!Reader
Summary: Reader dates Steve but he’s not a good boyfriend
Word count: 967
Warnings: Angst. Steve not being a good boyfriend, low self-esteem, no smut but smut? Idk I’m sorry. Self-body hating – plus size reader.
A/n: pt 2&3 will be on Bucky’s masterlist
Masterlist
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3
You see the love of your life kissing Natasha. Then in the car she jokes about it being his first kiss in 70 years, he doesn’t correct her of course he doesn’t otherwise he’ll have to tell her he’s dating you. For the past 6 months. He tells you that it meant nothing and that they had to do it so they didn’t blow their cover. He takes you to bed has you on all fours and as he’s nearing his release, he says Natasha. You cry and he doesn’t notice.
You’re sitting in the backseat of the car next to Bucky Barnes, having to see the love of your life kissing the next best thing he’s going to get to Peggy Carter, her niece Sharon. You can’t say anything though as nobody knows you two are dating, still. He tells you it’s for your own safety but you know it’s not for that reason. You know he’s embarrassed of you, you’re not skinny. You’re fat. Overweight. Plus-size. However you want to put it you’re not skinny. You’re not perfect like Natasha or Sharon or any other woman he could have. He tells you he loves you in a whisper. He kisses you behind closed doors. Hell he doesn’t even touch you in-front of anyone. Yet you stay with him because you love him.
Later that night he tells you he loves you and only you. You believe it. Your face gets pushed into the pillow, arse in the air and like last time as he’s about to get his release it’s not your name nor Natasha’s that slips past his pretty lips it’s Sharon’s. You cry, again.
You stay silent about the pain he keeps causing you because you are so afraid of being alone, so desperate to be loved by him or anybody for that matter. All you want is real love but you’re too scared to leave. The worst part is even Steve knows this. He knows how much you love him, and he knows himself that he could never love you, not really love you.
A few months goes by, and everything has calmed down so you decide to take him to meet your parents for the first time. He’s so nervous it’s actually cute. He meets your parents, brother and sister. Dinner goes by smoothly, Steve talks to your dad and brother about everything and anything whilst you’re in the kitchen talking to your mum and sister about how much of an amazing guy he is, how much you love him and how happy you are. Your mum tells you you’re absolutely glowing. The night comes to an end you’re sitting in the passenger seat eyes going from him to the stars in the sky, your happy for the first time in months. You both get home, and he tells you how incredible you are, says he wants to make love to you so you let him. Before you know it he flips you onto your hands and knees face being shoved into the fluffy pillows, your brains working overtime wondering which name is going to make its way out of his mouth. Your whole body is hurting because of how rough he’s being with you, your head hurts and your poor stupid heart is breaking all over again as he empties all his worth inside of you while the name he’s keep chanting like a prayer is that of your sister.
How you manage to do it is lost on you, but you push him off of you with what little strength you have left and make a beeline straight to the bathroom locking the door as quickly as you can, you stumble to the toilet in time to empty the contents out of your stomach. In the mist of being sick and crying you hear Steve pounding on the door pleading with you to let him in asking if he’s hurt you. Asking ‘what did I do wrong’ which is ironic as that’s the same question you’ve repeatedly asked yourself. You hug the toilet trying to get some kind of warmth from it.
But it doesn’t happen.
You fall asleep naked, face covered in tears on the cold bathroom floor. Steve falls asleep on the bedroom floor against the door.
The next morning you wake up sore with Steve knocking on the door telling you he has to leave on an important mission that he loves you and when he gets back you both can talk about why you ran off hiding in the bathroom. You remain stuck to the floor long after he’s left.
You know you can’t keep doing this, going through the pain, blaming yourself for not being good enough for him. ‘You need to stop being scared of being alone’ you told yourself and finally after nearly a year of crying yourself to sleep every night you pick yourself off the tiled flooring and with timid steps you head into the bedroom. As you pack all your stuff into suitcases and bags you thought you’d be crying whilst doing this but no tears have made an appearance, you’re completely numb and done with everything. Walking around the apartment taking your things as you go you head to the front door and like a naive silly girl you’re arguing with yourself to put your stuff back and just wait for the love of your life to come home. ‘He loves you idiot’ even though you know it not to be true and with that and your broken heart you take a look around visibly seeing the good times that took place within those four walls, you walk out of the door and into the cold December morning.
You thought he was going to be your happy ending.
~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barns x y/n#the avengers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x you#steve rogers and reader#steve rogers#steve rogers angst#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers sad#Steve rogers yn#steve rogers x f!reader#Steve rogers yn angst#steve rogers and you#Steve rogers reader#Steve rogers x you angst
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i need more raider joel more than i need air in my lungs
Night air.
3500 words, raider!Joel x f!reader | ✨gif
Raider master list ⭐ Joel master
reader-curated playlist | sweet pea (smut songs)
“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. . . He makes room for you, but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry.
You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t. "When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask instead.
SUMMARY: Joel brutalizes a bad guy, gives it to you hard, then works on something for you and gives it to you slow. His POV is revealing.
WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates, ANGST, Joel's trauma, overkill violence, dubcon (stockholm syndrome) unsafe P in V x2 (hard then soft), dark fluff, f masturbation, somnophilia, staying inside, NO Y/N.
A/N: ty @milla-frenchy for Qs & recs 🖤
—--- JOEL——
Yeah, Joel killed two of his own men, and they had it coming. He caught them red handed on their way into your room in the stash house. It still makes his blood boil to think about. If they hadn’t walked into that room talking about you like a piece of meat, those two men would be alive. Joel would do it again in a heartbeat.
He’s not surprised when the others are shaken, but if they’re good men, they have nothing to worry about. When things remain tense longer than he expects, Joel rounds them up for a group meeting. He puts you in the usual room with his trusted guard Carter posted at the door. The meeting becomes heated.
“No one’s gonna be left at this rate,” one man barks. “They ain’t gonna say it,” he gestures behind him to the other men, “but I will. She shouldn’t be here.”
Joel’s voice raises with his blood pressure. He asks, “What’d you say to me, Harold?" as he stands up.
Louder, maybe loud enough for you to hear, Harold repeats, “She shouldn’t be here. It’s bound to happen.” Bound to happen? These low-lifes are bound to put their hands on Joel Miller’s girl? Joel can feel the beat of his rage in his veins. All his muscles tense.
He takes a deep breath, exhales sharply, then says matter-of-factly, “I’ll show ya what else is bound to happen.”
Joel picks up his rifle.
"Yeah, kill me," Harold chides. "Kill us all."
Joel shakes his head no. His voice is deep and flat. "Not until ya beg me to." Now he’s gotta make an example out of someone.
Joel forces Harold outside, then puts his rifle behind his back and lets Harold take a swing at him, just for fun. When Joel gets this wound up, he needs to feel something. After getting clocked square in the jaw, Joel beats him until he’s barely conscious. Then, Joel hoists Harold, who is not a light man, and impales him on a sharp, severed fence post.
Joel puts his rifle around front again, leaving Harold alive but doomed, and heads back toward the house. He’s almost to the door when Harold manages to groan through his gurgles. Joel turns around, calmly raises his rifle, shoots him in the head, then keeps walking. He goes back inside, chest heaving, wiping blood splatter off his face with his wrist. The rest of them are still inside. No one came to Harold's defense or ran. Joel stares down the men, and based on the faces he sees, he’s not worried about any of them.
“Rest of ya got nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he reassures them. “long as ya leave her ‘lone.”
The men nod. Joel thinks about adding, and I’m not the only one you’ve gotta worry about, tempted to warn them that you know your way around a pistol and can handle yourself. One bullet, right between the eyes of that fucker. Joel thinks about it all the time. There’s something about his little sweet pea being a badass. And thank god, because he almost lost you.
“Now back to business.”
They discuss the rival crew they think sent two guys to Joel’s trailer, only for Joel and you to kill them. Joel doesn't think the crew is stupid enough to cause any more trouble, but agrees someone has to keep watch Just in case.
Joel almost reminds his men that he holds all the smuggling routes and contacts, just in case they’re concerned enough to pull something. But he doesn't need to say it. He dismisses them and grabs a duffle bag before collecting you from Carter. Carter asks what to do with Harold, and Joel says leave him for a while.
–
When the two of you get back to his trailer, Joel is ready to fuck out his anger. He sees himself in the mirror, chest heaving, veins about to pop, blood splatter on his hairline. God damnit, Harold. Joel showers because he doesn’t want any part of Harold getting close to you. Not even his blood.
You’re in the kitchen getting a glass of water when Joel walks out of the bathroom in just a towel. He crosses the kitchen, drops the towel, and pins you against the counter, pressing his hardness against your ass. He backs up enough to scrunch up your dress and growls, "good girl," when he finds you panty-less and wet. You knew. You were ready for it.
He grunts as he shoves himself into you, and he gives it to you good. "No one’s," he thrusts, "gonna," he grunts "touch ya." He plunges into you twice more, breathing heavily, then adds, “but me.” The power of his hips sends you to your toes with each thrust. He wraps an arm around you to hold you steady and watches over your shoulder as your tits jiggle with each punch of his hips. It doesn’t take you long to come. Then he curls his hands under your arms to hold your shoulders down from the front and begins to pulse with a low groan. He leans his head against yours and cradles it from the other side as he catches his breath, then asks, “you good?”
You nod, “mm-hmm,” and he pulls out, feeling better.
“Good.”
-
In the following days, things settle down in Joel’s group and get back to normal. The rival crew doesn't show up.
—--
One night, Joel leaves you inside the trailer while he sits out by the fire, as he often does. What you don't know is that he's not just sitting, drinking, and thinking. He’s working on something. He’s been making things for you. He hasn’t given you anything because nothing’s good enough, and it’s probably not going to get any better, but he keeps doing it. Sometimes he feels a little silly, but they’re things that will help both of you. Practical things.
He made a thigh holster for your gun. There was an old one without the straps in the weapons cache which is just a small room of chaos in the stash house, no telling what else is in there. He used part of a belt for the top strap and some black ribbon on the bottom, for the time being. It would be better than nothing, but he hasn't given it to you in case it wouldn’t work. Maybe it doesn't matter. As the weather changes, you'll probably need new clothes, anyway. Maybe even pants, he internally grumbles. Sweaters, too, so your chest won’t be exposed.
Tonight, Joel has another strap of leather with him, one that wasn't right for the holster. He also has a pot of water and a steel nail with a makeshift handle so he doesn’t burn himself. He heats up the tool and uses the hot nail head to emboss the strap with bold letters. He’s been working on it all week, and he’s only on ‘E.’ It’ll be first name only at this rate. You might not wanna wear it anyway, but it’s for your own good.
Joel’s almost lost you twice now. If there’s anything he can do to make someone think twice about touching or taking you, he’ll do it. Because Jackson, may he burn in hell, was right. Joel can’t have his eyes on you every single second. He's told you before: you tell’em you belong to Joel Miller. They’ll back right off when they hear it. But it doesn’t hurt for them to see it, too. And of course Joel wouldn't mind seeing it himself.
Joel’s fingers are too big for work this small. He accidentally makes the vertical line of the E slanted. Ah hell, this whole thing is no good anyway. You may never see it at this rate. But it feels good working with his hands, especially on something he thinks could help keep you safe and keep you his. You're a good girl, his good girl.
He should be thinking strategy, what’s going to happen with these warring crews, but that’s just not where his head’s at.
—--- YOU 🌸🫛—-----
You listen to the fire crackle and pop, longing for Joel to come to bed, longing for him to hold you, and more. He seems to stay outside longer than usual. When he adds a new log to the fire, you get impatient and decide to go out. You put on your shoes and go to the door, pushing it open just an inch. The rail to the stairs is blocking your view, but he's looking down at something. His jaw clenches in the firelight and he raises his eyebrows as he looks up. You slowly open the door, stepping out onto the stairs in your nightie. He puts something down on the ground, out of view.
“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. As you approach, he takes a swig of whiskey and puts the flask down. His eyes are dark as he watches the flames. He makes room for you but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t.
"When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask.
His brows knit as he looks at you. For a few seconds, he concentrates on picking lint off the flannel and smoothing your nightgown.
“I dunno, sweet pea. Got some stuff to figure out.”
“Can I help?”
He shakes his head no. You put your arms around his neck and rest your cheek against his shoulder. Then you slowly roll your face against him so your lips touch his warm skin and your nose rests on top of his shoulder muscle. You close your eyes and stay like that for a moment. He doesn’t stop you. Then you dare to press your lips ever so slightly into his skin before pulling your face back to look at him, your lips disconnecting with a barely perceptible smack. Joel’s still looking at the fire, but he allows himself a subtle smile as he exhales a silent laugh, then cradles your head. “Go to bed, sweet pea.” He kisses your temple. “I’ll be there in a li’l bit.”
You take the flannel off and get in bed, still smelling like the fire. You think of getting naked, eager to feel Joel however he wants you. But maybe he likes undressing you, and it’s chillier than normal, too. You lay under the covers getting wet and tingly thinking about what he'll do when he comes to bed.
The fire is still blazing. There’s no sign of him putting it out. It doesn't seem like he's coming in soon, but you're too turned on to just go to sleep. You close your eyes, recalling the feeling of Joel’s warm skin on your lips by the fire. The way his eyes sparkled. The way he always opens his arms for you to get in his lap–that seat is always yours whenever you want it.
You think about how handsome he is. Even, or especially when he’s looking rough. All dirty and beat up when he got home that one night, muscles pumped up. His sexy stitches. You play a montage in your head of all the times you’ve heard him yell, seen him stomp around ordering guys to do this or that. How fiercely he protects you. Your lip creeps under your teeth and you close your eyes.
All the way turned on, you slide your hand down between your legs and imagine him walking in and ravaging you. You recall how urgently he fucked you at the kitchen table after he thought you almost died. You recall the time he fucked you naked in missionary and and marked your neck. You try to visualize the look in his eyes.
And then, when you’re just about to come, you remember that one morning. Those few seconds you kissed, when he kissed you back. He had pulled you into him before he knew what he was doing. You still savor that fleeting moment he was grinding against you, his plush lips locked with yours. You can practically feel it. And that’s enough to put you over the edge. You turn your head into the pillow and brace for your orgasm.
—----- JOEL —------
You must think Joel can't hear your pretty little sounds when you touch yourself, but over the crackling of the fire he could swear he hears you moan into a pillow. His nose can't help but twitch into a little smile. He lets the fire die as he finishes the 'E', then he comes inside and washes off the smoke in the shower. By the time he gets in bed, you're asleep on your back with your left arm on your chest.
He carefully gets into the bed, spreading his weight out to not jostle the mattress. He's to your left, lying on his side, facing you. You’re so pretty and peaceful with your eyes closed and your sweet lips just slightly parted. An urge has been growing in his chest. He’s tried to push it away, but it's only grown, and he's afraid he can’t stop it happening.
He can’t bring himself to do it when you’re awake. He can’t let himself see how happy it makes you. The loss feels inevitable, and it gets closer and closer. The panic he felt when FEDRA had you on the ground. The devastation when it sounded like you were shot outside his own trailer. It gets worse every time. And last time, there was something new. Two losses flashed before his eyes. The loss of you (in the present and future), and the loss of what could have been–at least for a while, when he had the chance. The worst part is, he doesn't know which would hurt more.
His eyes fall on your mouth again.
If he does it now, it won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. If he does it now, maybe this urge will stop pulling at him every time you’re close. And then he can tell himself it never happened. Yeah, if he does it now, it can be like it never happened. Like he never let himself get that close, never gave you hope that he could be anything more than the terrible man he is.
His lip twitches as he watches you sleep. Then his breathing syncs with yours, and for a moment, everything fades away but you and him and the physical need that's tugging at him.
Joel leans over you, careful not to wake you, and he hovers over your pretty face. It's happening. His heart races as his face drifts toward yours, drawn to you like a magnet.
He closes his eyes, presses his lips gently into yours, and something rushes through his blood to every part of his body. Fuck. He's instantly soothed. With your lips still locked, he takes one breath through his nose then pulls away. He takes a deep breath, expecting the buzz to fade, expecting to hate himself. But you're so pretty and your lips were so soft. He almost chokes on his own saliva. He's quickly gotten hard.
Still fast asleep, you sigh and your nose twitches. You hum the prettiest little "mm," and roll over on your right, facing away from him like you normally sleep.
He pinches his eyes shut tight. He has to have you.
–
Joel curls himself around you, inhales your hair, and cups your breast. He presses his cock against you, hardening to full strength by now. He lets out a deep but quiet, "Mmm," not enough to wake you up. The exposed skin of your back and shoulder is so inviting, he's salivating. His arm slides from your breast down your nightie to your mound and you sigh. He lifts his head to see if you're awake as he aimlessly caresses you over your nightie. Your brow furrows with his light touch. Aw, sweet pea, he thinks to himself. You're just so cute. He presses a gentle kiss into your neck where it meets your shoulder, and he begins to ghost your clit through the fabric.
You sigh again, but still don't seem to wake up yet. He presses your mound so your hips tilt for him, and he pulls up the nightgown. He tests you with a finger and finds you wet but pulls back and pauses to add saliva to his tip. He teases your entrance with his cock, and you sigh "Mmm, Joel," as you begin to stir awake. He pushes the curve of his tip just slightly inside, then holds your breast.
He asks, “You 'wake?”
“Mmm,” you answer weakly.
"wake you up?" His cock prods at your tight, wet entrance, pushing in a little further.. He's itching to be inside you, but he's taking his time, captivated by your peacefulness.
Your spine arches and you push back on him, taking another inch of his cock in with a moan as you stir awake. "Joel,” you sigh.
He presses his lips into your neck and lets them linger. You ask, "are you awake?"
"Mm-hmm," he answers, his voice deep and gravely. He groans softly as he pushes his cock into you. He takes a deep breath as your insides make room for him. It dawns on him that he's never taken the time to savor the moment your bodies are joined, but shit, it feels good. He didn't know it could feel so good like this. He’s feeling every groove of you in slow motion. Each centimeter of you greets him with a tight, warm hug. You push back on him with a moan, bringing your bodies together.
Oh, sweet pea. You want it so bad, and you take it so good.
—---YOU 🌸🫛—---
Joel’s cock spreads you apart and he buries his length in you slowly at first, palming your breasts. He pauses, all the way inside you, and removes your nightie so your naked bodies are flush. It feels like a dream. The way he kissed your shoulder, the way he’s fucking you right now with his whole body cradling yours, each thrust so deliberate, you can’t help but still wonder if he’s truly awake. If you're truly awake. He grunts softly each time he bottoms out. His sighs and moans are deep and gravely.
“Sweet pea,” he whispers against your neck, “ohhhh, you — ohh, you take it so good, baby.” His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs. He whispers in your ear, "God DAMN, youfeelsogood,” he inhales sharply, then sighs your name. Your nipples harden and you get goosebumps.
“Joel,” you whimper at his fingers on your clit. The fullness of his cock was enough, and the addition of his hand has you twitching already.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers, and his voice is so soothing, you relax again. He slows down his pace, his length sliding snugly into your warmth slow enough to feel the drag of his tip inside you. He touches your clit and you whimper again. He adjusts his hand to touch it less directly, pulsing his flattened fingers. That’s what you need. You moan.
“Good girl.”
You wanna ask him again if he’s really awake, but you don’t want to break the spell. You let the silence linger, peppered with moans and sighs from each of you. You’d love for this to last forever. You love every way he gives it to you, but the newness of this is something to savor. After a few minutes, sweat begins to bead and run between your bodies. You’re both breathing heavily. He gropes at your breasts and the entire front of your body, like he can’t get you close enough. His breathing gets ragged. You memorize the feel of his cock dragging thick and slow inside you. Then he adds his hand again. His thrusts become more powerful. “Come for me, I want you to– nnngh.”
“Joel,” you whine.
‘Ohh,” he moans.
“Joel, I’m–”
“Go ‘head, baby—ugghh—-you can do it”
Your upper back presses into his chest. He groans and holds you tight as you convulse against him and choke his cock with your climax. “Ohhhh, baby, mmmm.” He bottoms out and pulses inside you as you’re still coming. He sighs "ohhh," as he fills you up with his warm release. Your body hugs him more with every pulse of his cock.
When you’re both finished coming, your bodies are still joined. You relish the fullness of him inside you. You expect him to pull out any minute, but his breathing regulates with yours.
At some point, Joel's breath stutters abruptly, and you realize he's fallen asleep like this. Holding you close, body curled around you, cock gradually softening inside you. It isn't long until you drift off, too.
-
Smut continues here: asleep inside
Next major chapter: hunger
-
Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Please consider commenting or reblogging to show raider Joel your love, even if this post is old. 💖 Love you guys. I love your passion for him. Your engagement motivates me. <333
Friendly reminder that there will be no pregnancy in this fic, Joel was snipped pre outbreak.
----
@toxicfics for notifications, make sure your phone is set to enable push notifications from tumblr. Some of my fics are pretty dark!
⚠️ Since so many people are saying tags aren't working, I may discontinue the tag list soon, sorry ⚠️
All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading
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No Benefits
Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Sharon Carter
Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.
Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.
Notes: Steve and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon
I try to keep my reader generic but as always she is female and taller than average.
I have to say I've been a bit overwhelmed at the response to this story, I hope I can live up to your expectations.
Chapter 2
Warnings: swearing, angst, a little dirty talk. Bucky's kind of an ass, Sharon is evil.
Cookie just stared at the pictures, heart racing, almost hyperventilating. She shook her head and looked at Nick Fury "This can't be right, can it? Sharon Carter can't be working against us, can she?"
Fury looked at her, concern evident on his face. "I'd like to think it's impossible but look at what happened with Hydra. We knew that Rumlow and the strike team were on our side and it turned out the entire operation had been rotten for decades."
Cookie tried to still her hands "B B But th this, this is different. Sh Sh Sha Sharon C C Carter. SHIELD founder P Peggy Carter's niece can't be the Power Broker." She felt her stomach drop and heart stop when it clicked "Oh god, no she can't but b b but Sam and" whispered "Bucky" the color left her face and she started pacing, bouncing until Nick snapped
"COOKIE!"
Y/N jumped and turned to face her boss "Yessir?"
Nick rubbed her arms "Calm down. You're no good to me like this. Barnes and Wilson are off site with Carter, right? Where are they, exactly?"
Cookie nodded "uh yeah they're um, wait let me see." She pulled her phone out "they should be, Latvia." She exhaled and it felt like she was deflating "Where my informant was killed last night."
Fury nodded "I doubt she wants to kill Wilson or Barnes so we just need to get this info to them. You'll probably have to wait until they come home."
Cookie shook her head "But what if she kidnaps them? What if they don't come back?"
Fury shook his head "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. I need you to compile everything you have that's even vaguely related to the Power Broker and anything you can find about Carter's movements. Let's see if we can find more links between them." He looked at his watch
"I want you in my office for lunch and we'll go over everything you have." He looked her in the eyes "Alright, Cookie? I know you're concerned about your friends but we need to keep our minds clear and focused on the facts so that we can help keep them safe."
Cookie tried to blink the tears out of her eyes and nodded "Got it, boss." before hurrying to her office by way of the break room because coffee was a dire need at this point.
She made it to her office, closed the door so no one would disturb her, turned on her music and sat down to go through every bit of Intel she had that might offer any clues. There were stacks of correspondence and photos plus some undefined amount of info on a thumb drive that she needed to work through with the only other analysts she absolutely knew she could trust, Dylan and Iris. She had trained with them and came up through Quantico where Nick Fury personally headhunted them.
Cookie didn't want to take a chance by getting too many people involved in this, after the whole SHIELD/HYDRA debacle she kept a couple of people close and everyone else could wait outside her gates until they convinced her they were trustworthy. This was huge and had 2 Avengers directly in Sharon's line of fire so had to be handled carefully.
Cookie also knew that her frayed friendship with Bucky was going to make this even more complicated because Sharon could use that to discredit her so Bucky thinks Cookie is just trying to eliminate a romantic rival.
She shook her head, no time to get distracted by emotions, her friends were in danger and that had to remain her focus. By 1pm, Cookie had synced almost all of Sharon Carter's movements with the power broker. There was no doubt, it was definitely her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the other side of the world, Sam was fed up with his mission partners. Sharon rubbed him the wrong way and Bucky was too wrapped up in her to see anything but sex. Sam had a bad feeling about Sharon, she was constantly wandering off only to be found on her phone and the Power Broker seemed to get away right before they arrived, every single time.
He tried to talk to Bucky but he just laughed it off, explaining how impossible it was for a Carter to be the bad guy. "Sam you're being ridiculous and paranoid even for a spy. Sharon is just as frustrated with our lack of progress as we are. You know sometimes this is just a waiting game." He smirked at his friend "We could find you a nice girl to pass the time with."
Sam shook his head and scoffed "A nice girl? You mean like Cookie for instance, who wouldn't try to distract me with sex like yours is doing to you."
Bucky laughed "You jealous man? I'm just making up for lost time and Cookie didn't want me." His smile dropped as he thought of her.
Sam looked at Bucky with wide eyes "Cookie didn't want you? Now we both know that's not the truth, you just got scared of the idea of a real relationship and dropped her for your living cock sleeve. You're a dumbass, Barnes."
Sam's phone buzzed with a text and he smiled when he saw it was from Cookie. She always checked up to make sure they were eating and sleeping while in the field. He looked at his texts
*<3 BeSafe*CYA*
That caught his attention. CYA= Cover Your Ass. It was their code for trouble close by which meant she found something concerning but the problem was too close to say out loud.
Bucky tried to look over his shoulder "What's that? From Cookie? You fucking her?" His voice dropped and he looked angrily at the ground "I knew she would find someone better."
Sam looked at him with disgust "The fuck is wrong with you? The only reason she might find someone better is cuz you pushed her away when you should have held on tight because you're not gonna find another one like her."
He nodded towards the hall where Sharon had gone "That one is trouble. There's something not right about all this and the way she keeps dragging you off to the bedroom."
Bucky smirked "I can't help that she's insatiable. Don't want to disappoint."
Sharon was in the other room listening to their discussion, smiling at how easily Bucky stood up for her. It was simple enough to get his attention when she came back to work with SWORD and he did all the work pushing Cookie away with his guilt. She was confident that he would take her side if that analyst bitch got too close. Sam could be a problem but nothing she wasn't prepared to handle.
She used a burner phone to send a text to her associate, the Intel analyst in D.C. to let them know she would be returning stateside soon and everything was going according to plan.
In the morning Bucky woke up in bed with Sharon's head on his bare chest and groaned. The position he was in wasn't a concern but he didn't remember going to bed or the usual activities with Sharon that followed. He couldn't remember anything past his talk with Sam, about Cookie. He didn't remember eating but he must have since it had been almost lunch time when he spoke to Sam. If he hadn't eaten he would be famished by now.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus and see if he could find any memories but all he could add was Sharon coming into the room and pulling him into their bedroom.
He looked at his watch and counted hours, he had lost almost 18 hours and couldn't figure out what happened. This wasn't the first time he had lost time on this trip and he didn't like the feeling.
Sam was right, something was off.
Sharon started to stir against him "Hey baby, look who's up before me."
Bucky smiled "Mornin baby, you sleep ok? Did we have some fancy liquor last night? I can't remember a damn thing, not even fucking you for 2 hours and I'm sure I did that."
She whined "I'm that forgettable? I thought I made you feel good." and pouted, rubbing his growing cock to distract him.
He reached between her legs to find her ready "You're always so wet and ready for me sweetheart. Tell me what you need."
Sharon moaned "I need you to fuck me, Barnes. Hard and deep. Right now."
Bucky was only too happy to oblige, the lost time forgotten in their haze of lust.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In her office Cookie and her crew worked well past lunchtime until an intern showed up from Nick's office to remind them of the passage of time.
Cookie put all of the papers and photos into a box since they hadn't had time to digitize it all and write up a comprehensive report. She went over every single detail with Nick and Maria to determine what should go in her report and which points to highlight for field agents.
The rest of the day and into the evening Cookie's team had everything organized and the details and evidence all written up in a 5 page report with back up documentation available in her files. She looked up when her phone buzzed to see it was Sam responding to her earlier text
*👍🐴☔*
She smiled knowing that Sam got it and would watch out for Bucky even if he was a dumbass.
Looking at her watch she saw it was almost midnight and noticed Iris trying to read her text before she quickly put her phone away. Iris and Dylan were her most trusted analysts but even they didn't need to know about her chatting with Sam.
She dismissed them so she could have a bit to herself to reply to Sam and include some details that they didn't have the clearance for.
A few days later when Sam, Bucky and Sharon arrived back home, Cookie was there to meet Sam and barely even acknowledged Bucky or Sharon which made Bucky act out, snapping at Sharon. Sharon was annoyed that he still cared about fucking Cookie, after all the work she had done to get him under control he was still pining for that stupid analyst. She knew something would need to be done about her soon.
Sam and Cookie walked arm in arm to medical to have him checked out, then to the common room when she had left some chili simmering for him plus fresh French bread. They took their lunch and went to his room to eat.
Cookie sat across from Sam while he talked about the mission until the food was gone and he stopped, just staring at her.
Cookie stared back "What?"
He looked at her sideways "First, I love you Cookie but you look like Hell. You're worried about me in the field but you're here looking like you haven't slept or had a decent meal in weeks."
She flinched before whispering "Closer to months."
"No, Cookie. Don't destroy yourself over a man that's too stupid to see what's right in front of him. We need you here. Nick fucking Fury insists you're the best intelligence analyst he's ever met. Ever. From the man who doesn't offer praise lightly.
I need you. I can't trust anyone else to lay all the intel out just so it flows for me. Or make sure I'm taken care of when I come back from a mission?
And his dumb ass might not know it or be willing to admit it but Barnes needs you too. He's in love with you, he just thinks he's being good and noble by pushing you away. And if he doesn't figure it out, there's plenty of other men and women that would jump at the chance to be with you. So take care of yourself."
Sam sighed "Second, I know you didn't send the CYA code for shits and giggles so tell me. What do you know?"
Cookie shifted uncomfortably "I want you to know this has nothing to do with their relationship, I didn't look to discredit her or hurt him but you know I have to follow the evidence where it leads me, without prejudice. You know I-"
Sam stopped her "I know you are impartial and I trust you and your conclusions so just spit it out and we'll go from there. Ok?"
Cookie nodded and took a deep breath before blurting out "Sharoncarteristhepowerbroker" then covering her mouth and looked at Sam with wide eyes.
Sam stopped and stared "Please tell me you didn't just say what I think you said. Tell me that she's-. Fuck." He shook his head "I know you have proof. Cookie, you have to tell Barnes."
She blinked rapidly trying to clear the tears that suddenly welled up in her eyes "Nononono, no I can't tell him. He will think I'm some disgruntled woman trying to hurt my rival. You have to tell him Sam he will never listen to me. Hell he hasn't even spoken to me outside of work ever since...."
Her eyes filled up and she tried to hold the tears back but she had been keeping it all in for so long.
Sam pulled her into his chest and sighed "Alright. Give me what you have, I'll talk to him tomorrow. And what's with all the containers of Cookies?"
Cookie shrugged "I was worried about you. Couldn't sleep. I made some of your favorites, the red velvet. The frosted ones are *special* to help you sleep."
Sam hugged Cookie and kissed her cheek "Alright babygirl, lay it out for me..." They spent the next hour going over everything she had before her eyes started drooping. "Okay Miss Cookie, go get some sleep and I'll see you at the debrief tomorrow."
Cookie gathered her paperwork and left Sam's room only to see Bucky in the kitchen. She didn't want to ignore him so nodded and grunted as she passed without slowing down. Bucky just watched her leave, wondering what she was doing in Sam's room so late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After their run the next morning Sam and Bucky sat down for coffee. Sharon told Bucky she wanted to sleep in so Sam figured now was the time.
Bucky started in on him before he even spoke "What's up with you and Cookie? You are fucking her aren't you? I saw her leave your room early this morning. Don't fucking lie to me jerk."
Sam brushed him off, "None of your damn business."
He tried to change the subject and explain about Sharon but Bucky didn't respond well
"What the fuck do you mean Sam? Sharon is not the goddamn power broker, that's ridiculous, her aunt was a founder of SHIELD. Where did you get your Intel from?" Sam looked at him pointedly, like there was any other person who Sam trusts completely.
Bucky shook his head angrily and stood up to head to Cookies office. "I can't believe you fell for it Sam. She's just trying to get Sharon back because she is with me. I turned her down for a relationship so she wants to hurt me back. Sharon warned me that she would try to pull something like this."
Sam stood up and grabbed Bucky's arm "Are you kidding me? You think Cookie would put her career and reputation on the line for petty jealousies? That she would ruin Sharon's reputation for revenge, over you? I guess you don't really know her after all." He shook his head "I'm disappointed in you man. I thought better of you. Good luck confronting Cookie, she's not interested in your shit."
Cookie was at her desk making packets with the Intel on the power broker for the top brass when Maria stopped by.
"Hows everything, Cookie? Got that power broker packet for me?"
Cookie nodded "It's right here." and reached out with a folder.
Maria noticed her hands "Cookie? What happened to your nails? When was the last time you had a mani-pedi? Is your girl sick?" She looked over Cookies hands in concern, she never missed her nail appointment.
Cookie shrugged "I don't know, I forgot. It's no big deal."
Maria looked closer "You look like Hell. Finish the packets up and take the afternoon off, you need-"
"Cookie!" Bucky roared as he came striding up to her office "What the Hell is this bullshit?"
Chapter 3
@erelierraceala @capswife @ozwriterchick @cjand10 @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @browneyedgrli @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hhiggs @dontworryboutitsweetheart-blog @behindmygreyeyes
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#angst with a happy ending#james bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#no benefits
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If you weren’t planing on writing it (and as your request are still open I’m going to take advantage of that sorry) can you write your idea of reader being Peggy and dottie daughter and dating Nat but mostly dottie gets overprotective?
Meet The Carters
Pairing: Peggy Carter x Daughter! Reader, Dottie Underwood x Daughter! Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader || High School AU.
Summary: When your mother, Peggy, discovers you have a girlfriend, she asks you to bring her to dinner. When your other mother, Dottie, lays eyes on the girl you've been dating, things take a turn.
Angst, Fluff
Warnings: Mentions of Red Room, Overprotective Parent?? Slight Mention of Child Abuse (reader being abandoned and malnourished), Nat is 17, Reader is 16 | K
AC: I finally got around to writing this! At first, I was writing it as a drabble but I got carried away and now it’s a full fic lmao! I hope you enjoy! x
You were unpacking your study books from your backpack when your mother knocked on the door, chewing on an apple slice, she smiled softly at you.
"Who was that you were hugging just now?" She asked in her thick British accent as she leaned against the door frame. Your cheeks felt warm as you turned to face your mother. "Just a friend" you replied.
You've been dating Natasha for a few months now, it was still rather new and not a lot people knew, just a few friends. Natasha is a year older than you and you weren't too sure how your mothers would react to the small age gap or how they would react to you dating in general.
"Oh, come on sweetie, I know a friendly hug when I see one and that wasn't one" you Peggy tease as she took a seat at the end of your bed and watched as you set your homework on your desk ready to tackle after an afternoon snack.
"Were you spying on me?" You asked with a cocked brow. Your mother chuckled, "I'm afraid that noticing things is a huge part of my job that now just comes naturally outside of work. So, come on, who is she?"
You couldn't help the growing smile that took over your face, you took a seat next to your mother. She was always the one you got along with a little better. You loved Dottie but sometimes you felt she was a little harder to connect with than Peggy. "Her name is Natasha" you answered, blushing more than you wanted to show.
"Natasha" Peggy repeated, "How about you invite her to dinner tonight, we'll have pizza and a movie. I want to meet this girl who's making you turn redder than tomato" she added. Playfully, you rolled your eyes but agreed to ask her.
----
When Dottie came home from work, she hugged you tightly as if it would be the last time she would hug you but you didn't think too much of it and asked how her day was.
"It was, well, work. How was your day?" she replied. She never spoke about her job or what she did. In fact, you never knew what she did for a living, you once asked when you were around six years old, and she told you she as like mommy and helps take the bad guys off the streets, but her job was super-secret and only mommy knew about it. You never asked her about it again after that.
You were only a year old when Peggy found you abandoned in a dark alley way. She took you to the hospital and called child services, she stayed by your side the entire time you were in the hospital. You were malnourished and very underweight for a baby of your age. When the time came for you to be released from hospital and into the care of child services, Peggy couldn't bare somebody else taking care of you and that's how Peggy became your mother. You were two years old when Dottie and Peggy got married and now you have two mothers.
"Oh you know, school is, well, school" you replied to tease.
"Very funny" Dottie cocked a brow, "why has mom got the dinner table set?" She asked when she noticed the table was set for four instead of three. You sat down on the sofa and picked up the television remote before working up the nerve to tell her who was coming over. "Uhm, well, my girlfriend is joining us for dinner tonight, it was mom's idea" you replied quickly turning the TV on.
"Girlfriend? Since when?" Dottie frowned. You chewed your bottom lip, "Since four months ago" you kept your eyes on the TV only to be saved by Peggy just before Dottie could ask anymore questions.
"Honey, your home!" She smiled, placing a kiss on her wife's lips.
"Who is this girlfriend that is coming over?" Dottie asked before Peggy dragged her into the kitchen. You couldn't hear much but little whispers here and there. You knew that Peggy was telling Dottie not to overreact and that there would be a time when you would bring somebody home to meet them.
You tried to listen more but a knock at the door made your stomach flutter with nerves as you got up to answer it. Natasha smiled softly in her leather jacket, jeans, and black tee. "I hope I'm not late" she spoke. You shook your head, "early actually, the pizza hasn't arrived yet" you smiled as you invited her in.
"Just a heads up, Peggy is excited to meet you and Dottie, well, I'm not too sure how she feels. She just found out a moment ago that I had a girlfriend" you rambled. Natasha placed a kiss on your cheek, "it'll be okay" she whispered.
Your mothers came out of the kitchen, Peggy smiled instantly while Dottie's eyes widened. You didn't want to say anything, but it disappointed you that she wasn't even ready to give Natasha a chance to show how amazing she was.
"You must be Natasha, it's lovely to meet you" Peggy greeted your girlfriend.
"Y/n didn't mention you were English" Natasha replied, lying of course.
"Oh, yes. England born and raised" your mother smiled once more, "this is my wife, Dottie. Don't mind her, she's had long day at work" she added as Dottie stepped forward to shake Nat's hand. She noticed the look of worry on your face and for your sake gave the red head a soft smile, "it's lovely to meet you" Dottie said.
"Thank you both for having me over tonight, it's a pleasure to meet you both" Natasha replied.
----
You and Natasha sat across from your parents while the four of you chatted and ate pizza, neither one of your mothers were great cooks so you were glad it was take-away night for Natasha's sake.
"You mentioned you moved to Ohio, where were you before that?" Dottie asked. If looks could kill, Natasha would've been dead the moment your mother laid eyes on her. During the entire dinner you noticed that your mother was very focused on Natasha while Peggy was more laid back and enjoyed your girlfriend's company.
"I was actually born in Russia and my family moved to Ohio because of my father's work" Natasha replied, keeping strong eye contact with your mother who didn't seem to relax.
"Well, Y/n didn't mention you were Russian!" Peggy commented with a chuckle as she referenced Natasha's first comment to her earlier in the night. Natasha chuckled, "Russian born and raised, kinda" she replied. Dottie excused herself from the table, using the excuse to use the bathroom but you knew it was just a way for her to leave the room. You followed after her, Peggy taking a deep breath and offered that her and Nat go outside and enjoy some fresh air.
"What is your problem mom?" You asked, following Dottie into your parent's bedroom. She turned to you and shook her head, "She needs to leave and you're not to see her again. Do you understand me?" she said sternly. You closed the door behind you to prevent Natasha from hearing anything that left your mother's lips.
"No, I don't understand! You've known her for a few hours, and you haven't even tried to give her a chance!" You snapped.
"I don't need too; I know this is hard for you to understand but this is for your safety"
"My safety?! Natasha isn't some criminal you and mom need to take off the streets!" You frowned.
"She's worse that that! She's exactly the type of person I don't want my daughter around!" Dottie snapped; you've never heard this tone from her before. Her eyes were full of worry which took you back, your mother had never looked at you with so much fear before. "What is it mom?" You asked in a calmer tone. Dottie shook her head, "you need to ask her to leave, and you can't see her again, I need you to trust me" she repeated.
"No, if you want Natasha to leave, you ask her" you replied before leaving the room to join Natasha and Peggy outside. "Everything okay love?" Natasha asked, placing a hand on your hip while she brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "Yeah" you sighed, "can we go get some ice cream or something? I don't want to be here right now" you added.
"Honey, your mom just needs a little time to get used to that fact you're growing up" Peggy inserted herself.
"No mom, she didn't even give Natasha a chance and you know it!" You looked over at your mom with tears of frustration filling your eyes. "I think I know what this is about" Natasha replied softly, "let me go talk to her" she added, placing a kiss on your forehead.
"Don't say another word" Dottie's voice made you turn to the back door where she stood.
"Dottie!" Peggy snapped, "Leave it alone" she added. Your mother's words made you frown, "no, why can't Nat say anything? What is going on?" You demanded answers.
"I'm not going to lie to her, Dottie, you might but I won't" Natasha looked at your mother before turning to you, "Your mother and I have the same job, it's not even a job. We don't get paid. We're trained at a place called the Red Ro-"
"Natasha!" Dottie interrupted with a stern tone while her eyes burned into Natasha's. "Can I have a word?" She asked. Natasha nodded and followed your mom into the living room while Peggy did her best to keep you from following them.
"I hoped this day wouldn't come so soon" your mom started.
"What do you mean mom? Please, can you just tell me what's going on?" you asked with arms crossed over your chest. Peggy sat down on one of the outdoor chairs on the porch, she patted the seat next to her and you took a seat beside her. "Your mom used to work for an organisation called Red Room. I've been working endlessly to try and find the location of this place but it's almost impossible. They take girls, from the street, pay for them and brainwash them. Your mother was trained to kill people…" Your mother went on to explain.
Tears streamed down your face by the time Peggy had finished explaining everything to you. Now you know everything and the reason why your mother never told you how work was because she's been trying to stay in the organizations good books to get back to head office to give Peggy the location. Natasha is what they call a widow, she's on a mission and being with you was never part of the plan.
You went inside, not caring about what Nat and your mother were talking about, you walked by Natasha and hugged your mother tightly. She hugged you back just as tight before you let her free and turned to Nat, "so how about that ice cream?" You asked with a soft smile. Natasha read between the lines and nodded, "do you guys want to come?" You asked looking at both your mothers.
"You know what, ice cream sounds really good right now" Dottie smiled softly, "Natasha, what do you drive?" She asked.
"A motorcycle" Nat replied. Dottie looked to Peggy then back to Nat, "How about I drive us" she suggested.
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#yelenasdiary asks#living in my marvel fantasy#fanfiction#marvel#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#peggy carter#peggy Carter x reader#dottie underwood#dottie underwood x reader
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Show Me - Part 2
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)
Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.
AN: I know I said I'd release this on Wednesday, but I thought I'd get this out a bit early. Here’s Part 2! **Read Part 1 here.
Word Count: 5,300
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, body appreciation.
☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist
Part 2: “A Thorough Reminder”
It’s a few hours’ drive back to Lebanon.
Dean stops at one of your favorite restaurant chains for takeout, though he notices how you only eat about half of what you ordered. Even he managed to eat all of his bacon cheeseburger, and that was after an entire afternoon of snacking and day drinking.
“Thought you were hungry,” he says.
You shrug as you package up the rest of your dinner and lean back in the passenger seat.
“I don’t know. Guess I don’t have much of an appetite today.”
You’re normally a stress eater, by trade. But today, a familiar anxiety has crept in, taking root in your chest, and creating a mental block between your throat, your brain, and your stomach.
Despite what some people might like to believe, Dean does notice the small things, when it matters.
He glances at you, catches the way you rub at your tired face and release a small sigh.
“You okay?” he can’t help but ask.
You nod absently. “I’m fine, Dean.”
His lips press together. That doesn’t sound like fine. It sounds a lot like Winchester fine.
“I didn’t know he was a hunter,” he remarks.
You both know who he’s referring to. You look over at him, resigned, and a little annoyed.
Dean’s palms lift halfway off the steering wheel as he shrugs.
“You made it seem like he was a normal Joe,” he says. “Some dude you met in Miami.”
“We did meet in Miami,” you confirm. Part of you falters with another sigh. You don’t want to talk about this, but you suppose you might as well get it over with. Dean deserves an explanation.
“Okay, here it is,” you begin. “Carter came into town on a job. I caught wind of it not long after he did, and when we eventually ran into each other, we agreed to work the case…”
And you and Carter were good together, at least on the hunt. There had been a certain rugged charm and confidence to him that had drawn you in (apparently, you had a type). When he’d asked to stay with you for a few days, you hadn’t been able to say no.
“I thought it was because…he wanted to see more of me,” you explain. Your expression turns dry. “Maybe that was part of it, but mainly, he was broke. He literally couldn’t leave. Not until he scored some cash.”
Dean doesn’t want to think about how that guy charmed you, luring you in with what he thought you might want to hear. Though he processes all this with a nod. You’ve filled in most of the gaps, and he thinks he knows where this part of the story leads to: the one thing you did tell him about your ex.
“So you helped him get a job,” Dean supplies. His wry gaze meets yours. “At the local strip joint.”
“As a bouncer,” you specify. “He wasn’t qualified for much else. As it was, he needed me to talk to the manager for him. It was a Miami club run by Latinos. They weren’t going to hire a random white guy off the street who didn’t even speak Spanish.”
“Not until you finessed them,” Dean smirked.
You flash him a small smile. “I’m good with people.”
You hadn’t realized it at the time, under the haze of a hunters’ romance, but everything with Carter had been at his convenience, and whatever he needed from you. A hunting partner. A bit of money (a loan, he’d claimed). Some good food and a place to stay, free of charge. Not to mention a warm bed.
The giver in you had been all too ready to oblige.
“And when he got enough money to hit the road, he asked me to go with him,” you continue. “My grandma was still alive at the time. I had never left the city for more than a few days before, in case she needed me, but she told me to go. To live my life…so I did.”
You turn to Dean then. You suck in a breath as your eyes begin to sting.
“It’s my biggest regret,” you say. “She was gone by the end of the year.”
Dean sobers. His eyes soften, and he reaches across your thigh for your hand. You lace your fingers with his.
“I told you, she basically raised me,” you say. You brush away a tear from your cheek, sniffling. “…I should’ve been there.”
Dean raises your hand to his lips. “That’s not on you.”
You shake your head instead of answering. You’d been on a hunt with Carter when you got the call from your grandma’s neighbor. For almost a year, you’d lost what you hadn’t realized was precious time.
Meanwhile, you’d become what you’d thought was a partner, both on the Job and in life. Turns out, you’d been more like a sidekick, allowing Carter to tell you where, when, and how. It took your grandmother’s death to snap you out of the trance.
So you went home, picked up the pieces of your life…and you started again, somehow.
“A few months later,” you say, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I met you in a dirty bar in Las Cruces.”
He shoots you a more amused look.
“You mean you tried to hustle me,” he says.
Your lips curve into a grin. “Oh, please. You knew what you were getting into.”
Dean chuckles at that, tossing his head back against his headrest.
“Well, not exactly,” he says. Your hand is still tucked in his, and his thumb draws back and forth across your fingers.
He hadn’t known you were a hunter at first. He’d noticed your curves in those tight jeans and fitted top, your red lips, the shade of your hair, the perceptive gleam in your eyes—he’d liked it all.
Still, after he watched you hustle a guy out of all his money that night, just to give him $30 back so he could afford to get home…he’d known then that there was something special about you.
Then you’d slid into the seat next to him at the bar. Your English had been as smooth as your Spanish, and he’d been all too willing to get hooked into a game of pool with you.
He hadn’t known then that he was staring into the face of his future.
“I knew I wanted you in my bed that night,” Dean says. His easy smile is flirtatious, but his eyes are honest, finding yours. “I just didn’t count on you being even more badass than I took you for.”
Your cheeks warm as you fight a deeper smile, shaking your head.
You lean over as far as you can with your seatbelt on and press a kiss to his cheek. You linger there, with your hand reaching out to caress his face. You don’t want his eyes to leave the road, but you want him to know what he means to you right now.
After you pull away, he gives you one of those grins, and his eyes are dancing. It makes him both a giant dork, and incredibly charming all at once.
Not for the first time, you’re grateful to know this man—let alone be with him.
And yet, Dean knows.
Something’s not quite right with you.
He feels it in his gut when you two get back to the bunker that night. You shower quickly and alone, and you took a change of clothes into the bathroom with you, like he’s never seen you naked before.
By the time Dean finishes his own shower and gets dressed, you’re getting ready for bed as you putter about the room. He eyes your long pants and sweatshirt.
“You cold?” he asks, while digging in his dresser for a clean pair of sweatpants.
You spare him a glance, but you don’t fully turn to him while you go through your skincare routine with your hair clipped up.
“No, I’m good,” you reply.
“So why the long johns,” he quips, gesturing at your pants. He can’t remember the last time you wore anything but a shirt and underwear to bed (or less). He catches the look on your face in the dresser mirror: a slight pause, a press of your lips, but your face is otherwise guarded.
“I guess I am a little cold,” you say. You head to the bathroom again to finish the rest of your nightly routine, but you don’t see the way Dean’s frown follows you.
He later waits for you in bed. He pauses in his iPad scrolling when you slip in beside him under the covers. You've let your hair back down, nice and wild the way he likes it.
You heave a sigh. “Good night.”
“Hold up,” Dean says. With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you from facing away from him. He leans in and caresses your cheek with his thumb. You give him a small smile.
And he gives you a slow, purposeful kiss. He pulls away, just enough to see your eyes, beautiful and warm. He leans in again and angles into a new kiss, one that deepens with a spark of heat. He props himself up with a forearm above your head, digging into your pillows.
His thigh slots between your legs. For a reason you don’t want to name, you fight the instinct to press your center against him. His hand on your cheek slides down your neck, down the front of your close-necked shirt, between your breasts. He finds purchase on your hip and squeezes soft, tender flesh.
That’s when you stop him with a gentle push on his chest.
You slowly break from his kiss and lick your lips. Your eyes are apologetic.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just…I’m tired,” you say.
Dean nods and lets out a sigh through his nose. He shifts more fully onto his side, lifting his weight off of you, and brushes your hair back from your face.
“You sure you don’t have anything you wanna talk about?” he asks.
You raise a brow at him. “Like what?”
“Like how you’re letting that asshole get back into your head,” Dean replies.
His gaze feels heavy on you, and you pause, staring back at him in soft shock.
“I’m not—”
“Look, I know you. And whatever this is, it’s more than what we talked about in the car,” he says, with a firm, yet gentle gaze. “If there’s something else you need to get out, you can tell me.”
Dean has worked hard to help you through the mental roadblocks you’ve had in the past—about you being comfortable with yourself, and with him. He’s not going to let some dipshit like Carter undo all of that, unraveling you with a single thread.
But your mouth works as you start to get annoyed, and even a bit angry at his accusation.
“Just because I don’t want to have sex, doesn’t mean I’ve got a problem, okay Dean? I just want to sleep,” you say tersely.
Dean’s jaw clenches at your tone. His head quirks, and he nods.
“Fine,” he says. “We’ll sleep.”
He turns around and shut off his beside lamp, casting the room in darkness. You huff and turn onto your side, away from him.
You cover yourself with the blankets up to your shoulders, but the longer you lay there in silence, the more that guilt prickles in your chest, along with the tightness of anxiety that welled up when he started to touch you.
Fuck, what’s wrong with me? you think, trying to work through the emotion clogging in your throat. You haven’t felt like this in years…
Slowly you turn back towards Dean. By now your eyes have adjusted enough to see the outline of his broad back in his gray shirt. You steel yourself with another shaky breath, and you scoot forward across the bed. Your curled hands rest against the middle of his back, where you also press your forehead. You feel his body tense up a little.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper in the dark.
After a beat, you hear him sigh. Dean reaches out to turn the lamp back on, filling the room once again with soft light. He turns and finds you haven’t moved, though you stare up at him with shining eyes.
His own soften. He takes one of your hands and presses the back of it to his lips.
“Talk to me,” he says, and he waits for you to gain your courage.
After another couple of steadying breaths, you begin.
“There’s too many things I didn’t realize at the time,” you say. “He didn’t force me to go with him, to stay with him… Even when I felt like shit inside, I thought he was right about me. I thought he needed me, and that made everything else okay.”
You sniffle, and a tear rolls down your cheek. Dean’s hold on you tightens a fraction. He’s listening intently, but in his silence, there’s anger. He wishes he really had broken that guy’s hand. Or at least his goddamn mouth.
“I mean, what the hell was I thinking?” you ask, laughing a bit through your tears. “I always thought I was stronger than that, you know? I just realize now that…I must not have liked myself very much.”
Dean lets go of your hand, just to dry your face. He’s no stranger to looking in the mirror and not liking the man staring back at him, but he doesn’t think that’s your problem.
He caresses your cheek, shakes his head, and he offers a rueful smile.
“Nah. You just have a habit of fallin’ for poor sons of bitches who don’t deserve you,” he says.
You read between his self-deprecating lines there, raising your brows at him.
“Hey. That might be true, but you better not be lumping my boyfriend in with the rest of them,” you say firmly. Your arms slip around his waist, and you press yourself in close.
Dean chuckles and welcomes you into his arms as well. His hand tangles in your hair, and his lips find your neck with a deep inhale.
He knows what kinds of thoughts are likely plaguing your mind, just like he knows that whatever he says will only go so far. He presses a kiss to your neck that grazes with teeth. You let out a little hum of surprise. He smiles and begins to move down, letting his lips brush across your skin.
“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower and brushes the side of your breast. “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”
His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.
“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.
You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.
“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”
His grin deepens, teeth shining. “Yes, ma’am.”
This man is nothing if not endearing, and it earns a giggle from you as he moves down your body. First, you help him with getting your sweatshirt up and over your head; the collar is close to your neck and he doesn’t want to choke you (yet).
His gaze focuses on the rise and fall of your chest, the familiar sight of your full breasts, waiting for him to touch and tease.
Before he can start to follow through with his mental plans, you sit up with him and your hands dive under his shirt, both to start inching it up, and to feel him. His stomach clenches under the soft graze of your nails, but he gently pushes you back down onto the bed.
“What’d I just tell you?” he chides.
You give him an incredulous smile. “What, I’m not allowed to touch you?”
Dean reaches up to pull his shirt off from behind his neck. It’s a smooth move, and your eyes roam over his chest, and lower still.
He smirks. “Just be a good girl and wait your turn.”
You bite your lip to stifle a laugh. You let him finish undressing you by peeling off the sweatpants. You were getting hot in those anyway.
He leaves your panties on for now, but he travels back up to slot himself between your open legs. With a forearm braced above you, he starts again from the top.
He caresses your cheek, and begins with a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.
You sigh at the attention, tilting your head to make room for him. The sound of your voice is just one thing that he loves (and you know it), but Dean also loves the smoothness of your tan skin. He doesn’t mind a few faded stretch marks here and there, the lower he gets. He’s got a few scars and worry lines himself.
What matters to him is the sounds he’s able to pull from you as he nips and licks down between your breasts. He massages and teases one with his hand, while his tongue lavishes attention on the other. He earns a breathy sigh, a moan when his lips find the hardening buds, your knees starting to bend and squeeze his waist. He already feels the dampness of your clothed core brushing his thigh.
“Already squeezing on me, huh? I’ve barely touched you,” Dean teases. He nips at a plush spot on your left side, below your breast—something you might’ve been insecure about, if his thumb wasn’t also still distracting you by swirling over a nipple. His hands are sinfully good (something you love).
You utter a small moan and grasp his wrist just for something to hold onto as his mouth continues worshipping every curve of your body. Even the parts you’d usually rather him steer away from.
Dean senses your tension, however, when his teeth graze your soft stomach. He glances up at you, finding a bit of insecurity in your eyes.
“Here’s the thing,” he says, and his lips move against your skin. “You act like I haven’t already seen and conquered every square inch of you. Like I haven’t torn you apart, time after time.”
He sits back up, and his hands squeeze your hips and thighs and ass. He moves up to look down on you with almost predatory focus. Like he’s trying to determine what part of you he wants to devour next.
It’s a look you’ve seen before, though it still makes your face warm and your pussy clench on nothing. Your mouth parts with an unsteady laugh.
“You’ve got a point,” you nod. Dean shoots you a smirk, but he still takes your hand from where it’s been tangled in the sheets. He presses a kiss into your palm.
“You don’t gotta hide from anybody,” he says. “For damn sure, you ain’t hiding from me. You're too damn beautiful for that.”
You smile up at him, softer now as you thread your fingers with his.
He soon lets you go though. Because his hand moves down and down, to brush his fingers along your clothed core. You breathe deeper in anticipation, but his grin tells you that he’s not going to make this quick.
“Dean,” you implore him.
“Yeah, baby,” he answers. The pads of his fingers stroke and press into you. You lean into his touch, wanting and craving more. But he doesn’t give it to you just get.
He keeps teasing you, brushing your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. It’s sort of what you want, and yet nowhere near enough. You can taste the edge of pleasure, just starting to make you squirm against his hand.
“You’re killing me here,” you whine.
“I’m ‘a need you to be patient,” he says.
You laugh, both incredulous and frustrated. His grin is damn near insufferable now.
Dean’s fingers move your panties aside, but they do no more than brush against the wet seam of your pussy. You hum and try to press into his hand. He doesn’t heed your unspoken demand.
He thinks you’re sexy as hell like this, writhing and waiting for his touch. He just wants to savor that for a bit longer—that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. He’s the only one who gets to tease you, to be with you, to love you.
You’re getting impatient though. With a ragged sigh, you sit up and hook a hand behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss. He chuckles against your lips when he feels your hand sliding from his chest to the generous bulge in his sweatpants. You stroke up and down the full length of him with a practiced hand.
“I get it, baby. I do,” you pant, “but I need you.”
He falters for a moment, grunting when your hand slips into the front of his pants and boxer briefs and takes his cock firmly in hand. Your touch is soft and warm and you know how to elicit a shiver running down his spine.
Dean has a plan though, and he forces himself to focus through gritted teeth. He takes your wrist, carefully guides it out of his pants, and pins it beside your head, using his strength against you. It’s as frustrating as it is hot, making your skin flush as you stare up at him.
“We’re not there yet,” he tells you. Amusement gleams in his eyes. “But I like the enthusiasm.”
Without warning, he pulls away from you. He sits up on his knees and grabs the nearest pillow. He grasps your thighs and raises you up enough to slide the pillow underneath your ass, which he bares after snatching off your panties. You yelp and the suddenness of your underwear sliding off your legs. He tosses them elsewhere.
“What, now you’re speeding things up?” you remark.
Dean raises his brows at you. “What gave you that idea?”
He shifts down the bed and sinks down between your thighs. You lean up just on your elbows so you can try to figure out what he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess). For a delicious moment, you feel his warm breath against your pussy. You clench in anticipation…
Until he veers further down the inside of your thigh. His hand moves smoothly underneath one of your thick thighs and hooks it over his shoulder. He starts with wet kisses from the inside of your knee, steadily moving up your thigh. Your eyes close as your breathing shallows.
You force yourself to take deeper breaths as the gentle feeling of his lips, and a hint of teeth, continues to make your body tingle with pleasure. You feel warmth and wetness pooling between your legs. Your core is already throbbing with need.
Just as Dean draws near to the apex of your thighs…he changes course, starting the same path of kisses up your other leg. You blow out a shaky sigh and have to clench your hands into the sheets. His name falls from your lips, both a reverent sigh and a plea.
You know what he’s doing. He’s worshipping your body in the sweetest of ways. You knew he was going to take his time with you, working you up, but this is both heaven and hell.
“Would you relax?” he says, chuckling into your skin.
You release a breathy giggle. “Yeah, right. I love and hate you right now.”
Dean’s shoulders shake with near silent laughter. His free hand soothes up and down the thigh he holds propped up on his shoulder.
“As long as it’s more of the first one, we’re good,” he teases.
You groan, but eventually you relax against the bed. You realize now that you’re more comfortable, more focused more on the pleasurable sensations he’s giving you than on how exposed you are right now. You smile begrudgingly, as you realize that’s probably what Dean wanted all along.
Just when your body is starting to settle into this, you gasp when you feel his tongue finally lick a warm stripe up the seam of your pussy.
Your head raises, and you see your man’s mischievous green eyes and the edge of his smile between your legs. Your mouth opens to say something petulant, but you cry out when his fingers slip past your wet folds and find your clit.
He knows where you’re most sensitive, what’s going to have you even more slippery and pulsing with need. His tongue replaces his hand, licking and sucking at your clit, while his fingers slip into your tight entrance and fuck into you slowly.
“God, Dean,” you breathe. Your nails dig back into the mattress.
You feel his voice reverberate inside you when he says, “Relax…”
He's already hooked your thighs over his shoulders. The pillow under your raised hips just gives him even more leverage to work you over. His mouth is noisy and makes you blush down to your neck, but you can’t help fisting a hand into his hair and clenching tight as he brings you right to the edge…
And he tumbles you over. His fingers brush deliberately and firmly against that sensitive spot deep inside you, until your inner walls quiver and your legs shake around his head.
Then you’re coming all over his hand. Your whimpers turn into a moan of release as warmth travels from your center, throughout the rest of your body. His tongue doesn’t stop, and your skin tingles, causing a shiver to run up your spine and arch your back as you moan.
He doesn’t pull away until your clit becomes oversensitive, and you start to squirm away from his hold. When he finally gives you reprieve, your body sags on the bed and your head rolls to the side as you try to catch your breath.
Dean’s panting hard too by the time he’s done. He has to wipe his mouth, nose, and hand, but he still strokes your thighs after he guides your legs off his shoulders and back to the bed.
Since you’re incapable of speech at the moment, you tug more gently on his hair to get his attention. He greets you with a grin as he takes in how wrecked you are.
You smile back and beckon him with a curling finger. “Come ‘ere.”
Dean obliges you, moving up your body to prop himself up on a forearm, next to your head. You grab his chin and bring him down to you for a searing kiss. You shudder a little, as you can taste yourself on his tongue. The press of his fingers along the small of your back brings more tingles across your skin.
You feel him hard and heavy against your thigh. You let your hands run down his back as well. Down the slope of his spine, and under the waistband of his sweatpants.
“I need you,” you whisper, in the small space between your faces.
“Yeah?” he pants, though his tone is teasing. “Where?”
“Inside me,” you reply. Your thighs squeeze his hips, pressing his length against your center and earning a groan out of him. “Fuck me ‘til it hurts.”
Dean’s grip on your hip tightens. He drops a biting kiss to your throat and nods. He quickly gets the rest of his clothes off, then he directs you to move onto your side. You’re a bit confused at first, but you oblige him. He kneels between your thighs, straddling the bottom one, then hooking your top leg over his.
He pushes his cock into you slowly, making you both breathe harder as he stretches you and finds his way home.
This angle is different, but it’s good. You feel him bottom out deep and snug inside. Already your inner walls respond to the feeling of him, and you tighten on reflex.
Dean makes a sound of pleasure and presses his forehead against your shoulder for a moment.
“What’s this, like doggy style?” you ask.
“Kind of,” he says, giving you a grin. “This way, I can still see your pretty face.”
You can’t help a giddy burst of laughter, even though your face warms. Yes, he still manages to make you blush when he talks like that.
Dean smirks in amusement. Once again, he swipes a thumb across your cheek and presses a kiss to your lips. You hold him there and lick into his mouth. When he starts to move, rocking out, then back inside of you with ease, you shudder at the feeling of him. Your thigh curls tighter around his hip, and he squeezes your soft flesh there.
“I happen to like a little give,” he says, with a lusty gleam in his eyes. “You know why?”
You’re already panting for breath. His slow strokes make you feel every inch of him, but you lick your lips and meet his hot gaze. You start to smile as you humor him.
“Why?” you ask.
“Call it a ‘soft landing,’” he grins. “Makes it feel that much better when I fuck you good and deep.”
Your mouth falls open, this time more in shock as you blush further and shiver in arousal—not only at his words, but the sound of his voice, and his sincerity. You unintentionally clench on his cock, and he groans. He gives your ass a heavy smack. You jolt with a gasp.
“Keep that up,” his voice deepens, rough with pleasure. “’Bout to fuckin’ wreck you.”
All you can do is nod and hold on tight for the damn ride.
He builds up the pace, until he needs a hand on the headboard for balance. The old mattress creaks to the tempo of his pounding strokes, and he’s hitting your G-spot with every single one of them. Your toes curl and you grab onto his thigh to help keep both of you steady.
You feel that coil starting to tighten, but you’re not quite there. You reach down between your bodies and massage your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close on a gasp.
And the coil eventually snaps. Your inner walls spasm and flutter around him, making his hips stutter.
“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he grits out. He chases his own release as well as yours. “So fucking sexy like this, coming apart for me.”
He's spurred on by the way your voice echoes in his ears. A few more hard thrusts, and he’s spilling into you. He fills you up with his warmth and makes a shiver run through your body.
You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you’re probably giving him bruises, but it’s not unlike the fingerprints you often find on your ass and hips (and probably will find tomorrow).
You finally twist onto your back and relax. Dean catches himself against the bed before he crushes you with his weight. You welcome him anyway, with your hand soothing up and down his back.
“You okay?” he asks. Somehow, his gruff voice is still soothing to you.
You smile, giving a teasing squeeze on his arm. “Much better.”
He chuckles at that. His skin is dewy and sticks to yours, but you don’t mind. In turn, he brushes your now frizzy hair away from your face and neck, so it fans out on the pillow instead.
After he untangles from you and rolls onto the bed at your side, he lays there on his back and tries to regain his breath. You turn toward him and press a kiss into his shoulder.
“Thank you…for reminding me,” you say.
For making me feel beautiful, wanted, loved…
You try to blink past the sting of tears, but you know your eyes are shining.
“I love you,” you remind him.
Dean’s face warms and softens. He reaches over and takes your hand. Again, he presses it to his lips.
I love you too, that gesture says. Then he smiles.
“Any time you need a little show and tell, I’m here.”
AN: 😮💨 Well then! lol I hope you liked this! For me it was equal parts fun and cathartic, being a plus-size girl myself. 💗💗
I was definitely thinking of that scene in 9.13:
Mala: "What can I say? Sometimes it's nice to feel a little give."
Dean *has an epiphany*: "Oh. Yeah, I get that. A little extra cushion for the, uh..." *fist pounding motion* (lmfao)
Keep Reading:
Next up in this series is "Get Stuffed":
Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.
▶️ Next Story: Get Stuffed
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