#though he got in a good shot or two himself
Note
The prompt "sit still and let me take a look!" spoke to me 😌
hiiii frida this has been in my inbox for so long but I finally figured out how to write again so here you go <3 also sorry. I think. it got angsty oops
[Read on AO3]
The problem is that Eddie tries to catch the glass. It slips, and he doesn’t want the shattering sound to wake Buck, so he tries to catch it, and—
“Fuck.”
It slips out louder than he means for it to be, the pain catching him by surprise. It slices through his hand and up his arm, reflexive tears springing to his eyes before he blinks them away. Blood blooms on his palm, just a thin line at first, but spreading rapidly, red running over his fingers, his wrist, dripping onto the floor. In the middle of it all, a jagged piece of glass sparkles in the morning light. Eddie curses again.
Sometimes he feels like he has been dealing with emergencies his whole life. He’s good at it—he has to be—but there’s always a moment of hesitation when it’s himself, a split second or a minute, mind and body frozen even though his survival instinct in any other situation is to fight.
This is hardly an emergency, but Eddie feels frozen anyway, his mind blank even though he’s already moving, reaching for the tap. Water gushes out, tepid for the first few seconds, then cold enough that he has to grit his teeth against the ache. The blood isn’t slowing, but it’s turning pink under the water, washed away before Eddie can think about how much of it there is. Cuts usually look worse than they are, he reminds himself.
“Eddie?” Socks shuffling on the linoleum, half asleep still. Then suddenly much more awake: “Shit, are you okay?”
“Yep. Pass me a tea towel?”
There are two hanging from the oven, but Buck goes for the drawer of clean tea towels instead. He passes over a red one—fire engine red, Eddie’s mind automatically supplies—and it could be a coincidence, or it could be because it won’t stain as easily as the lighter ones. Eddie wraps the material awkwardly around his bleeding hand, trying not to move too much so he doesn’t jar the glass and make the cut worse.
“Here,” Buck says, turning a chair around one-handed, “sit down, let me take a look at it.”
Guilt gnaws at Eddie’s stomach.
“I really don’t—”
“Eds.” Serious. Too serious for a broken glass, but just the right amount of serious for the years of history between them. “Please?”
Eddie sighs, and nods, and sits down. He holds out his hand and Buck takes it carefully, fingers gentle under the back of Eddie’s hand, like what he’s holding is something precious. It makes Eddie’s heart quiver in his chest. He has to bite his cheek hard so he doesn’t do something ridiculous like cry. Or kiss his best friend.
“It doesn’t look too deep, I think it’ll be okay if we pull the glass out,” Buck says, the furrow between his brows deep in concentration as he inspects Eddie’s hand from every angle. “Do you have tweezers?”
“First aid kit,” Eddie answers, gesturing towards the hallway with his good hand. It’s not like he needs to explain where the first aid kit is, Buck already knows. Hell, Buck helped him stock it.
“Don’t move,” Buck tells him, that same flash of seriousness in the look that comes with the words.
“Where am I gonna go?” Eddie asks rhetorically.
Buck rolls his eyes. “Just—hold that towel on your hand. I’ll be back in a second.”
Eddie re-wraps the towel carefully around the glass piece and keeps pressure on his hand, holding it up so it’s above his heart, more out of habit than because he thinks it’s necessary. Without Buck, it’s hard to focus on anything except the pain. It’s nothing compared to getting shot, or broken bones, or a dislocated shoulder, or the whole body ache from being at the bottom of a collapsed well, but pain is pain. Eddie stares at the photos on the fridge and tries to put it out of his mind. There’s Christopher’s latest school photo, a shot of Eddie and Chris in Texas last time they visited, another of Buck and Christopher at the zoo, one of the three of them grinning like maniacs at the go-karting place in the desert.
It means nothing and everything, Eddie thinks, that dozens more photos just like them fill the photo albums lined up neatly on the bookshelf in the living room. Mostly nothing. Mostly everything. Sometimes it feels like they were living their lives with a hole left just for Buck to fill before they even met him. Eddie isn’t sure he believes in things like soulmates, or fate, or divine providence, but if he did, he thinks it would be because of Buck. Because of the way they fit together, a neat little family of three.
Except for how they aren’t. Buck will go home to Tommy in a few hours, and Chris is willing to speak to Eddie on the phone these days but he still isn’t ready to come home, so it will just be Eddie in his lonely house, eating a lonely dinner at the empty kitchen table.
He presses a little too hard against his hand and the pain flares, the hard lump of emotion in his throat numbed for a moment by the sting. Eddie presses down again, breathing through the hurt until he feels like he is in control again. It’s harder and harder to keep hold of these days. His eyes feel permanently gritty with exhaustion, a long shift and a heavier heart weighing him down, but sleep as elusive as it has been for the last two months. This isn’t even the first glass he has broken in the last few weeks, just the first to draw blood.
Eddie doesn’t realise how much he has slumped in his chair until he hears the squeak of the hallway floor under returning footsteps and he straightens back up. The first aid kit clatters when Buck sets it on the table, his fingers already flicking up the latch to open it. It’s more cluttered than Eddie remembers it being, and he makes a half-formed mental note to reorganise it when he has a chance. House upkeep hasn’t been his biggest concern recently. Buck has to push aside band-aids and tape and rolls of bandages before he finds the tweezers at the bottom of the box. He tears open an alcohol wipe and sterilises them, then hesitates.
“Should we—?”
“Sink will be less messy,” Eddie agrees before the question is finished, squashing down the part of him that doesn’t really care if he bleeds all over his kitchen.
He stands up awkwardly, even though it isn’t something he really needs his hands for, and Buck’s hand hovers under his elbow for a second before dropping away. Eddie feels the not-quite-contact like a tingling up and down his arm. It tingles, too, when Buck holds his hand to keep it still, the movement of his thumb over Eddie’s fingers almost a caress before his grip settles. The tweezers hang over the cut and Eddie tenses, instinctively bracing for more pain.
“Careful,” he warns, and Buck glances up at him, eyebrows raised.
“Would you rather do this yourself?”
There’s no judgement in his voice. Well, not real judgement. It’s all teasing fondness, the same kind of tone he uses when he gives Chimney shit about his extravagant coffee orders, or gives Eddie shit about his cooking, still, even though he knows his way around the kitchen at least half as well as Bobby by now.
Eddie rolls his eyes.
“I trust you,” he says, just the right amount of serious for the years of history between them. “Go on, do your worst.”
Buck’s hand is steady around the tweezers. The shard comes out easily and he drops it in the sink. He rinses away the freshly welling blood under the tap, then tilts Eddie’s hand under the light to check for the glint of any smaller pieces of glass hiding in the cut. The look of concentration on his face makes Eddie think of burning buildings and tricky extractions from bad accidents. It’s a little overwhelming, having all that Firefighter Buckley energy directed at a comparatively measly cut.
It’s not that he isn’t used to it by now: Buck taking care of him. It might actually be that he’s too used to it. At some point, it stopped being something that surprised him and became something he’s comfortable with, something he expects, something he can ask for, and… It’s dangerous, the way Buck makes him feel safe and comfortable and cared for, because Eddie’s traitorous heart wants to hold onto that feeling forever.
“Looks like that was all the glass,” Buck says. “Can you wash the cut? I’ll grab the gauze to wrap it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, relieved to have some control handed back to him.
The antibacterial soap at the sink is gentle enough, so he presses down the pump and braces himself against the sting as it hits the cut. Reflexive tears spring to his eyes and he blinks them back as he cleans his hand thoroughly. He tears a piece of paper towel off the roll one-handed and pats the area dry, then lets Buck take his hand again to press a piece of gauze over the cut and carefully wind a bandage around on top. That familiar furrow of concentration stays between his brows until he tapes the bandage in place and steps back.
“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly.
Buck shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. Maybe it shouldn’t be.
“Do you want me to…?” he gestures towards the counter, the broken pieces of glass still lying there.
Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”
He half expects Buck to push, but he just nods and turns away to pack up the first aid kit instead. He starts organising it without Eddie saying anything and Eddie’s heart throbs, hit with a wave of love so strong it almost takes his legs out from under him. He forces his attention back to the broken glass before he can let that love carry him to his knees and beg Buck to stay forever. He’s pretty sure that would only make Buck worried. He’s also pretty sure it would be nice, letting go and drowning himself in all the gentle care that would come with that worry.
Eddie turns away from temptation instead. He sweeps up the pieces of glass carefully with the dustpan, then folds a catalogue from yesterday’s junk mail around them before dropping it all in the bin. The first aid kit closes with a snap and Buck squeezes past him to carry it out of the kitchen, his body heat there and gone before Eddie can let his heart take control again and lean into it.
There are a hundred reasons he can’t have Buck any more than he already does.
There are a hundred more for why he wants him, why it makes perfect sense. If Eddie was a little less damaged, he might have realised that early enough to do something about it.
Or maybe he would have just fucked it all up; he seems to be good at that.
Eddie flexes his hand, feeling the cut pull under the bandage. He closes his eyes for one second, two, and his hand is hanging back by his side by the time Buck comes back, yawning, and beelines for the coffee machine. He grabs out two mugs, holding one up in offering, and Eddie nods, feeling guilty all over again about waking Buck up.
“Thanks,” he says again. “Sorry I woke you up.”
He’s not even sure why Buck followed him home after shift, only that he did, and it made sense at the time—still makes sense, which doesn’t really make sense at all—and even though Eddie probably should have suggested he go home and nap before whatever date he has planned with Tommy, he just pulled out a spare pillow and blanket and nudged him towards the couch.
“It’s okay,” Buck says easily. “I’m glad I woke up.”
He smiles, gentle and a little lopsided, and it’s the kind of smile that makes Eddie wonder whether Buck has always smiled at him like that. He wonders if it means anything, or if he just wants it to.
It’s dangerous: wanting.
He steps back, reaching for the bloody tea towel, careful not to use his injured hand. “I’m going to—” He gestures vaguely towards the laundry. “Before it stains.”
“Oh,” Buck says. “Yeah. I can—”
Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”
It’s not running from a situation if the situation is entirely inside your own head, he tells himself. It’s just… doing laundry.
And it doesn’t mean anything when Buck’s hand lingers as he passes over a mug of coffee after Eddie drags his feet back to the kitchen. It never means anything, because if it does—
Well.
“Hey,” Buck says, leaning in close before Eddie can pull away again, his arm warm through the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “We didn’t really get to have breakfast earlier, so I thought we could go out for pancakes? I saw a new place on Instagram that has, like, twenty different flavours.”
Eddie loves him. He shouldn’t, he can’t, but god, he loves his best friend so much it hurts. Why the hell has his heart been hiding that from him for years? He takes a quick sip of coffee and tries to swallow the lump in his throat back down with it.
“Yeah,” he says when he can trust himself to speak. “Sure, pancakes sound good.”
Buck knocks their shoulders gently together, but instead of pulling back he just—stays. He always stays. Eddie closes his eyes, inhaling the steam from his coffee, and carefully, deliberately, he does not think about anything except the bittersweet taste of coffee and creamer on his tongue, and the stinging heat of the mug against his hands.
#Eddie Diaz#Evan Buckley#911 abc#fic#if this is terrible pls nobody look it's been 84 years since I last had words
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Pink Pony Club (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)
♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan "I'm up, and jaws are on the floor. Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door. Blacklights, and a mirrored disco ball Every night's another reason why I left it all"
♡ Summary: You're an Exotic Dancer / part time house mom at The Pink Pony, and end up falling for a man that is probably old enough to be your father.
♡ W/C: 2.9k
♡ Poste Date: 06/10/2024
♡ A/N: Hello all! again, for the asks that are atp starting to mold in my inbox - imma get to you. This specific dirty old man in a suit has been making me feel things lately, so naturally I had to write some porn about it. Asks are still open even though I cant promise it'll be done snappy. Hope everyones week is off to a great start so far!! Tagged those who commented on the post saying this would be a good idea just so you could see how it came out, hope you like :)
♡ Warnings for BTC: Age gap relationships (R is in her mid-to-late 20's, mentions of sex work, Club environments, swearing, smut, rough sex (Richie likes to be slapped around sometimes, kay?) lowkey simp!Richie, no use of Y/N - pet names only, readers stage name is Pixie Polestar , unprotected sex, not edited, we die like men!
♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡
➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡
➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡
➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡
➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡
You had met Richie just about 2 months ago. It was safe to say, life had chewed him up and spit him out lately.
If he was being honest with himself, the dating pool wasn’t exactly rich at 46 years old. He could count on almost two hands how long it had been since he got his dick up for more than just the binightly pornhub browser.
That led him into the Pink Pony Club one fateful August night. You were working your usual shift, Pixie Polestar. You - unlike some of the other girls - really enjoyed your job. At least, the aspect of having fun on stage, doing cute, sexy little acrobat-like tricks on the pole while horny men paid you to take more of your clothes off?
Yes please.
You weren’t a back room kind of girl, usually. That was because the amount of money you made from tricks on the pole was more than a lot of the girls you worked with made in a whole shift while you just worked the 45 minute trick-filled stage set then would give a few $400 lap dances depending on your mood, before skipping on home, taking a hot shower, and slipping in your silk sheets with your air conditioner turning your bedroom something akin to an ice box.
That was how that night was supposed to go.
How the night really went, was some loud borderline obnoxious man at least 15 years your senior, had found his way into the Pink Pony. He was wearing a pressed navy blue suit, that complimented his pretty blue eyes. That was the second thing you noticed about him while he loudly whistled for Krystal who was currently doing her set.
You weren’t really supposed to be here anymore - well- you didn’t have to be here. You had found yourself a solution, a real career path if you will. But you enjoyed your time on the pole because it was art, and dancing was a confidence booster for you. In any regard, you were going to get older, you were going to pass your prime as the house mom was always telling you girls, so you needed another stream of income.
Of course, being a … *eh-hem* - exotic dancer was the word you preferred, stripper just sounded trashy to you, did come with its negative stereotypes, one of which being no where will rent to you - because you had terrible credit. So, naturally, being the resourceful woman you are - you walked your happy ass to the open house of a for sale by owner showing, and told the nice realtor you’d take it.
Boom. Done, you had a place to live in 3 weeks, when you closed on it. Then, it dawned on you. The other girls you worked with had the same issue you did. So, you found another house, saved another 25k for the amount to put down, and rented it to your coworkers.
It was the perfect system, because you knew you’d get your rent. You knew exactly how much money each girl made because you watched them make it, you knew where they lived, and they had to look you in the eye every night. So it’s easy to say no one ever tried you. The only real reason you hung around The Pink Pony anymore was because you wanted to keep an eye on your girls and dancing was fun too.
When he first laid eyes on you, it was something akin to a cartoon character when their pupils turn into hearts. It wasn’t too abnormal, you were one of the more bombshell-esc dancers at the club, and that isn’t to say that you outdid anyone it was all based on preference. Some men loved plain Jane’s, and the plain Jane’s were just as beautiful as any of the other girls, but the reaction of men basically tripping over their feet to try and come talk to you was more likely going to happen to you then anyone else.
But he…didn’t come over, that was interesting to you. So, you being the master of customer service you were, took your drink and kept your eyes locked on his as you made your way across the room, and plopped right in his lap. “Never seen you here before sweetheart” your manicured hand found the back of his neck, gently caressing over his skin.
He tried to play it cool, but your tits we’re basically in his face, he could smell your perfume perfectly, fuck he genuinely can’t believe that a girl so beautiful just sauntered over and sat in his fucking lap. Was he dreaming? He found his mind racing, and for once in his 46 years he was dumbfounded and couldn’t find anything to say.
“Cat got your tongue honey?” You smirked a bit, gently cupping his stubbly cheek and rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it snap back into place. He swallowed thickly, his hand resting on your bare thigh, just below the white glittery mesh coverup you were wearing.
“I’m Richie.” He blurted out, his cheeks felt like they were on fucking fire, any blood that wasn’t rushing there was rushing to his cock and he found himself wondering when the last time he’d gotten hard so easy was.
“Well hello Richie. I’m Pixie, what brings a handsome man like you in on a Friday night mm, no big plans?” You absentmindedly played with his chain, pretending to pay no mind to the long length that was hardening in the curve of your ass. All you would have to do is shuffle just a tiny bit and his cock would be nestled between your cheeks and the itty bitty powder pink g string that you wore beneath the tiny mesh piece of fabric that was basically for show and no use to cover anything.
“I guess I was lookin’ f’some entertainment. Think I found it” he spread his legs more, causing you to sink further into his lap and his hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb rubbing little up and down strokes over the smooth skin. He never believed that the sheer triple x rated porn movie he was creating in his mind would become a reality that night but man did it.
It was also his first night taking the dreaded viagra prescription his doctor had given him when he got real about his … shortcomings as of late. The man isn’t what he used to be stamina wise, okay? Nonetheless - he still rocked your shit - well, more like you rocked his.
Who knew this foul mouthed, old school, borderline toxic masculinity-entrenched motherfucker would get so much pleasure from your palm coming across his cheek just hard enough it left a yummy sting and telling him “My eyes are up here you old pervert” as you bounced on his cock with a rhythm he couldn’t bring to the table himself anymore, and that in turn causing your tits to bounce like a fucking hentai film less then a foot from his face.
Something about a younger girl calling him old and smacking him around all while using his cock to get herself off, babbling about how good he makes her feel made him more confident then he had been in years.
He often would find himself feeling a little pang of sadness after you started seeing eachother, in moments where you two were laughing a way he only ever did with Mikey before you came around, and making him feel like he was in fuckin’ High school again with how giddy he was to see you after every shift. All of it would just remind him how bad he wishes you could have met Mikey, and how bad he wishes he could tell Mikey.
Richie knows, he would be so jealous, but in a brotherly way - that such a young hot piece of ass, a young smart, hot, funny, piece of ass was calling him daddy, told him he was ‘her mans’ whatever the fuck that meant. He assumed girls today call their boyfriends that, there were a lot of little phrases and lingo you had to explain to him and would always make fun of him for being old after doing so.
He would tease you too, having some late 80s early 90’s radio station on (because the old head didn’t understand what streaming was) while he drove you around of course since he had learned from you that you were his ‘passenger princess’ and saying something like ‘oh babygirl this is before your time, this is from my day” before cranking up the radio and serenading you with Bad Girl by Madonna, belting it in such a silly, dramatic way between drags of his cigarette you couldn’t help but burst into giggles and kiss him at the next red.
You had told him that when you used to do private dances that Like a Virgin was one of your favorite to dance to for the ‘older’ gentleman, he spanked you playfully when you said his crowd was older as he usually did, and of course later that night he had you perform for him and you ended up getting your back blown out to material girl since you had been streaming the song from your phone and didn’t care to find it and turn it off.
When Tina had played it jokingly at family dinner one night, he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips at the memory. Funnily enough, she was the first person to find out about you. Of course, he didn’t divulge anything other than he was finally seeing someone consistently, nothing about your age or profession. Based on the way Tina had reacted with clapping and kissing his cheeks, gushing “I’m so proud of you papa! That’s so good, this is so good for you! You need to get out there more” he was reevaluating his social life or lack there of and telling himself he needed to get out more, which lucky for him you were young and bubbly so you could get him out of the house.
The next person he told, he really told, was Carmy. Well- technically Syd too, but she just happened to overhear.
“W-wait wait” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose how he did when he was baffled and confused, brows knitting together as he shook his head. “Lemme- lemme just get this straight - y’datin a…..”
“Ex-o-tic dancer, cousin. It’s 2024, fuckin hell. Women dance and get paid for it - no big deal.” He repeated, emphasizing each sound as if what he was explaining was the most casual thing in the world, which - you had explained to him it should be so he took that and ran with it.
“You’re fucking…a stripper- a stripper that’s what they’re called when they dance naked - and how old did you say she was?” Syd questions.
“Hey- she leaves her panties on she’s only naked top up, and plus she doesn’t even have to anymore she does it for the art.” He points the spoon he was wiping down at Carmy “this new NOMA bullshit we’re doin’ here isn’t the only art, Cousin. Shes an artist” he dropped the spoon in the bucket with the rest of the pristine ones he’d worked on.
“Sure- and she’s fuckin younger then me” Carmy replied. “She could be y’fuckin-“
“Yeah, yeah - whatever she could be my fuckin daughter where’s your girlfriend huh? I don’t see anyone linin’ up to fuck you. She’s nice, and into me - and - and she’s funny and smart. So see already 2 qualities named that I don’t see much of around here so excuse fuckin me f’wantin to be happy when I’m not in this shithole” he teased
“So- this not even 30 year old, she is gonna be y’date to the thanksgiving friends and family night - the one your daughter and ex wife are attending - and you think that will be a good idea considering tiff’s track record with girls you bring around” Syd questioned.
“Yup” was all he said before taking the now finished bin of spoons to be put away, glad for the conversation to have finally been over.
He rehashed the whole conversation with you later that night as you slowly rolled your hips into his, your skin sticking to his, both of you covered with a thin layer of sweat. You had his hands pinned next to his head, fingers interlaced with yours, practically speaking into your mouth as you kissed him sloppy and open mouthed, obsessed with eachothers taste. You always tasted of bubblegum, a habit you’d carried with you since childhood, he always tasted of cigarettes, a habit he had carried since high school.
“Baby with my job I’m used to people not understanding me - I didn’t expect your friends to like me. My job - it can make people uncomfortable. But fuck them. You know how we feel huh?” You picked up the speed of your hips, using the curly deep brown patch of hair at the base of his cock to cause the most delicious friction with each thrust on his cock as you chased your orgasm.
“Ye’ fuck em baby- shit- so fuckin tight- all mine right?” He breathed, mouthing over the bruises he’d left on your breasts a few nights ago. That was one thing about your job he had a bit of difficulty getting past, but you assured him you had no feelings for any clients and that you weren’t doing lap dances anymore only your stage set and otherwise you were just there to be more of a second house mom. But still, he was a man after all. He was possessive, a little jealous sometimes. So he loved to hear that you were only his during moments like this.
“Yes daddy- all yours. You own this- you own me” you kissed his hand before bringing it to your breast and then using his shoulders as leverage to bounce further up and down, the action causing his head to fall back and jaw to fall slack.
“Just like that - god- fuck - holy shit baby- shit-shit- y’fuckin close? How fuckin long has it been?” He pinched your nipple lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him and a pornstar like whine to leave your lips
“It’s been 15 minutes- Christ you’re like a teenager. Can’t even last 30 minutes?” You teased, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting and nibbling the skin as you circle your hips, essentially jutting the tip of his cock into your g spot and that floaty feeling sneaking up on you as you feel him shoot rope after rope of arousal, painting your pretty, gummy walls a milky white and his stomach muscles clenching at the overstimulation.
The grunts and moans that left his lips when you got him here were some of the hottest noises you’d ever heard a man make before, you were always sure to file them away in a special little folder in your brain for a rainy day he wasn’t able to get you off himself. “Feel good daddy?” You asked sweetly, sitting up and resting your hands on his hips so you could look down and watch as your mixed arousals gush out of you and around him, thick strings breaking with each slow, purposeful roll of your hips
“So fuckin good baby- Jesus gonna finish soon? Dunno how much more I can do” he said, voice breathy, blissed out, nearly whiny.
“Mmhmm few more minutes daddy- god we’re so pretty, I bet we taste so good mm?” You swipe the pad your forefinger over your clit, gathering the sweet and bitter white, making a show of rubbing it over the hardened bud of your nipple “feels good, too, wanna tell me how it tastes?” You leaned in and he nearly groaned as he took your breast in his mouth, crystal like eyes seeding into your own gaze as he flicked his tongue gratefully around the sensitive nub.
You whined hotly, the sight of your tit in his mouth mixed with the feeling of his pants huffing through his nose and fanning over the swollen flesh as his tongue swirled and licked and flicked and drove you over the edge. You cried out, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. His hand found your heat, rubbing with scissored fingers over your clit and meeting around his cock before dragging his fingers back up to repeat the assault.
The action had you gushing around him, the contractions of your heat getting stronger causing him to groan into your skin and that vibration just added more stimulation. “Fuck yes- god daddy- always make me feel so good, no one understands how good we make eachother feel hm? Nothing else matters, baby, as long as you feel good, right?”
You pulled him in for a sloppy, hot, passionate kiss. A kiss that made his heart do flips, and his stomach flutter, and made him feel way lighter.
Richie thought to himself in that moment he may be falling in love again, and he was equal parts fucking terrified, and excited to see where things with you went.
He just had to get over ripping off the very last bandaid, and then you could really be together -
And that bandaid was Tiff.
@aestheticaltcow - @myszie - @wtfsteveharrington
#CapriCarmy Oneshot#the bear fic#the bear#borders & banners by saradika#the bear 🐻#the bear fandom#Richie The Bear#richie jerimovich x fem reader#richie jerimovich x you#richie jerimovich smut#richie jerimovich#richie jerimovich x reader#Richie Jerimovich x fem!reader#richie jerimovich imagine#Richie Jerimovich blurb#Richie Jerimovich drabble#Richie Jerimovich fanfiction#Richie Jerimovich the bear fanfiction
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SOTM: Robbie, Playoff Willy, various Scouts; pull yourself up by the jockstrap
For the prompt: A little more of Robbie's time with the Scouts - Cup party, with the Tweedles and Willy, maybe Julius & Erin. Your choice - just more of that.
(I'm not here, but the tumblr queue is! Well. Probably.)
“Now, I know I have no right to talk about maturity,” Robbie says, then promptly ducks the jock that comes flying at him, the rest of his message going undelivered.
“No throwing shit at teammates’ heads during playoffs!” Playoff Willy yells.
“It wouldn’t hit him in the head if he wasn’t so short!” Bender says. “I misjudged!”
“Misjudging is not acceptable during playoffs!” Playoff Willy says. Robbie wants to write a book of his sayings. Like Sun Tzu but for maladjusted athletes who don’t know how to lose. Which is pretty much all pro athletes, in Robbie’s experience, so it might even sell.
Robbie nudges at the limp jock with his socked foot. It looks sad. Defeated, even. “Bro, when was the last time you replaced this?”
Bender looks to Playoff Willy, like he’s waiting for Robbie to get yelled at, though Robbie’s pretty sure Playoff Willy cares a hell of a lot less about feelings than he does about potential head injuries. Or like — anything. The only feelings Playoff Willy cares about are like, motivation. And probably bloodlust.
“Pike has a point,” Playoff Willy says. “That shit is falling apart.”
“But I wore it in!” Bender says. “None of the other ones fit right.”
Robbie pokes it a little further from him. The visitor’s room floor is sketchy as fuck, but he doesn’t think he can do the thing any damage at this point.
The elastic snaps. Well, snaps is a strong word. The elastic’s too damn worn for that, so it’s less a dramatic death and more feebly giving up on the last thread of life remaining.
“Whoops,” Robbie says. Maybe he should have considered that the thing was an antique before he started poking at it.
“Willy, look what he did!” Bender says. “That was my lucky jock!”
“How lucky can it be when we just lost the game?” Playoff Willy growls.
Bender is, thankfully, smart enough to realize that’s a rhetorical question.
“Still up a game, Playoff Willy,” Money says, and Playoff Willy shoots him a glare, but doesn’t say anything.
Robbie’s still impressed that Money’s got the balls to call him Playoff Willy to his face, and even more impressed that Playoff Willy lets him. Everybody knows Money is his favorite, but as the playoffs have gone on, that seems to buy less and less leeway. Money told him from the get-go that the longer the playoff run, the worse Playoff Willy got. Robbie didn’t really believe him, or maybe didn’t want to, but he’s got to say, Playoff Willy during the Conference Finals is a whole different beast than the first round. Emphasis on beast, there. If he mauled someone Robbie wouldn’t even be surprised. Unless they were playing well, he guesses.
Thankfully, Robbie’s been doing okay for himself, shutting down the guys he needs to shut down, so he’s also currently in Playoff Willy’s good books, at least enough that he doesn’t fear mauling.
“I’ve had that for eight years,” Bender moans.
“That’s fucking gross, dude,” Robbie says. “Genuinely. I did you a favor.”
Bender throws a glove at him. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to have been around for two presidential terms.
“If I have to leave next game because I got nut shot, that’s on you, Pike,” Bender says.
“Bro, if you go onto the ice without a jock Playoff Willy will cup check you himself,” Robbie says.
He winces, but either Playoff Willy didn’t notice the slip, or Robbie’s earned even more grace than he thought.
“He isn’t wrong,” Playoff Willy says. “Normally I wouldn’t, since it’s a chickenshit play, and an auto major, but I don’t think they really care if it’s your own teammate.”
“Refs won’t give a shit,” Scratch says. “Social media probably won’t shut up about how he slept with your wife, though.”
“I can make it look like an accident,” Playoff Willy says. Robbie does not doubt him even a little.
His brow furrows a moment later. “I don’t have a wife,” he says, sounding almost unsure.
That would be kind of suspicious, but Robbie’s learned that’s just how Playoff Willy talks about anything non-hockey related, like first he has to go consult with normal Willy, who’s being held hostage somewhere inside him.
“That could not matter less to idiots on twitter,” Scratch says.
“Last round they said I slept with your wife,” Money says.
“Why did you sleep with my wife?” Playoff Willy asks, then, after checking with kidnapped Willy again, “You’re openly gay.”
“Like I said,” Scratch says. “Could not care less about your actual relationship status. Or sexuality, apparently.”
“Scratch is still mad about it,” Joey says.
“I’m not mad about it,” Scratch says. “I just think people should do basic—“
“I fixed it!” Bender says. “I fixed it, guys! All it needed was a little super glue.”
Robbie has such a bad feeling about this. Bender’s honestly lucky his balls have survived this long: that elastic was literally holding on by a thread.
“You don’t want kids, right?” Robbie asks.
“Oh yeah,” Bender says. “Not quite yet, but Lacey and I are—“
“Oh, give me that fucking thing,” Playoff Willy says.
Super glue isn’t going do shit to save Bender’s jock after Playoff Willy and a pair of scissors get through with it.
“Have some respect for your testicles,” Playoff Willy hisses, and then marches the remains of Bender’s jock to the trash can.
That one's an instant classic. Robbie is adding it to the book of Playoff Willy for sure.
“That’s one for the book of Willy,” Harvard says. Obviously Robbie didn’t need telling, but he does appreciate that it’s becoming a collaborative effort.
“Hah,” Robbie says. “Testicles.”
“Willy,” Harvard agrees.
“What are you two giggling about?” Playoff Willy growls.
“Nothing,” they chorus, ducking their heads so they don’t accidentally meet Playoff Willy’s eyes. That’s a mistake Robbie isn’t making again.
“It was so comfortable,” Bender mumbles. “Like wearing nothing at all.”
“Yeah, buddy, we know,” Scratch says. “That was kind of the problem.”
“So comfy,” Bender whispers.
*
Robbie’s never been to a funeral for a jock before, but he guesses there’s a first time for everything.
“R.I.P.,” Money says. “Like rest in peace. Not like rip. Though that is what you did.”
“Before getting hacked to pieces by a madman,” Scratch says.
“May you find peace and serenity in—“
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Playoff Willy says.
“Scatter!” Money says, and they all flee. Well, Robbie doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but he’s fucking exhausted. Plus, he blocked a shot last game, and anything faster than an amble makes his leg throb like a bitch.
“What the fuck were they doing?” Playoff Willy asks.
“Funeral for the jock we murdered,” Robbie says. Well, Robbie’s crime was jockslaughter at most, but that’s not important.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Playoff Willy says, then bows his head, eyes closed. He doesn’t move for a good minute, and Robbie’s shifting uncomfortably, wondering if he's finally snapped just like the jock did, and if getting Money will help or just make it worse.
He startles when Willy speaks, murmuring, “Sorry I killed you.”
Presumably — hopefully — he’s talking to the jock, rather than saying it to Robbie just before he kills him. Robbie reminds himself he’s safe. He blocks shots.
“It was for his safety, and the greater good,” Playoff Willy says. “Thank you for your years of service.”
He opens his eyes then, and Robbie accidentally meets his eye.
Shit. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He doesn’t think he was supposed to see that either.
“I won’t tell anyone about this,” Robbie says.
Playoff Willy’e eyes narrow.
“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Robbie says.
“You’re a quick learner, Lombardi,” Playoff Willy says. “I like that about you.”
“I block shots too,” Robbie says, just to make sure Playoff Willy remembers his utility.
“You block shots too,” Playoff Willy murmurs, then nods to himself.
“Integral part of the team,” Robbie says, then, aware he’s over-selling it, he awkwardly shoots Playoff Willy two thumbs up.
Playoff Willy’s brow furrows, then, after a long consult with the normal Willy tied up in the basement of his brain, he gives Robbie two thumbs up back.
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Borrowed Clothing
gojo x fem!reader
length: 6.6k
cw: mild angst, that's p much it
A cutie little Gojo-centric one shot I wrote to cope with everything Gege has put us through, in which Gojo gets to borrow a really cool shirt (amongst other things).
“Gojo?”
He's still in his school uniform, black blindfold covering the upper half of his face, but you didn't need to see his eyes to know something was off. Typically, his posture was one of complete and total ease, loose and open shoulders with long arms falling wherever gravity held them, undoubtedly a habit from being virtually untouchable. The man before you, though, looked like if he got any tenser he’d simply cave in on himself. His usually plush bottom lip was chapped, as if he'd been chewing on it all evening, and there was a slight swell to his cheeks and nose- had he been crying?
“Did you mean it?” He asked, his voice falling out husky and cracked.
Your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means, so he clarifies:
“When you said if I wanted, I could, uhm-” He clears his throat and tosses a look over his shoulder, bouncing anxiously on his heels like he was a normal man on the run from something.
His words jog your memory.
You hadn't seen him in two weeks, but the last time he'd stopped by the diner you worked at he’d ended up convincing you to take your lunch break with him. You always thought he looked a little funny in there, with his high class attire and long gangly limbs fighting for more booth space than was physically possible for him to take up.
Despite his tendency to stand out, he’d been coming in for years. It started when he’d caught you using your water-based curse technique to clean tables faster. Over time the conversation slowly transitioned from trying to get you to join up with Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School to topics that ranged from the weather to the existence of god. You never knew what kind of question was gonna fall out of Gojo's mouth.
Frequently, the two of you discussed jujutsu society. He hated moral arguments and debates but had a love for the craft, though how could he not, being who he was?
It wasn't like Gojo to let you peak into his brain, though. Majority of what came out of his mouth was unhinged, sure, but distinctly detached from any sort of deeper subject matter. You weren't dumb, and you’d definitely caught onto the way he carefully danced around certain topics with jokes and sly subject changes. You got the feeling that he wanted someone to talk with, but didn't really know how to beyond surface level. Couple that with an obvious intellect (buried under a couple hundred fart jokes), and he made for a decent conversationalist.
“I feel like you're my friend, but I’m not really your friend.” You’d told him over the plates of food as the strings of your waitress belt dug into your sides.
“I would never be friends with a weakling like you.” His smirk was devious, bating you into a spat with him, which you’d fallen for, hook, line, and sinker.
“I'm not weak!” You scoff, but you weren't really offended. You played this game with him all the time, Gojo loved a good tease.
“You won't even join us at the school because all you can do with that shitty little curse technique is mop floors.”
There he was again, poking the bear and dancing around what he was actually trying to say. If you had to guess, what he really meant was something along the lines of:
”The fact that you have no interest in utilizing your curse technique disappoints me. You could be doing so much more than food service and I don't understand why you aren't developing your skill.”
So you do your best to communicate your answer to his actual intention:
“It's not a weakness to use a talent for mundane tasks, you dick. For your information, I can do a hell of a lot with my little technique.”
You poke your tongue out at him and he playfully knocks at your ankle under the table, a soft smirk playing on his lips as you continue:
“I mean, when you really think about it, your highness, am I weak because I refuse to use my technique for violence, or are you because you’re a slave to yours?”
You’d truly, honestly meant it as a casual lighthearted roast. The subject matter was serious, sure, but with time you'd come to know Gojo as the type of person you could joke about anything with. He sure had no problem laughing at your expense.
He tried to remain unbothered for the rest of the conversation, but you could tell he was rushing. For once, his laugh had seemed hard and forced. His demeanor had sunken from his typical egotistical borderline-mania into that of a shy theater kid attempting to play a bubbly and jovial character. Before he left, you tried to quell the flames on the bridge it seemed you were actively burning.
“Gojo, are you okay?” You asked as he fished a few bills out of his wallet and tossed them onto the table.
“Of course, why wouldn't I be?”
You wished you could see his eyes, really get a feel for what might be going on in that handsome little head of his.
“Did I hurt your feelings?” You insist, your bottom lip jutting out just slightly as you reach across the table to grab his hand. Just a foot or so away, your hand meets a sort of density in the air, stopping you from getting any closer, and your heart cracks a little. He hadn't used Infinity around you in so long.
“Please. Me? You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that if you wanna work me up.” He smiles, but it's not genuine. His nose always crinkled when he really smiled, it was something you noticed early on, one of your favorite little quirks of his.
Before he left, you'd written down your address and your phone number, and told him if he ever wanted to talk he was free to call or show up whenever.
Honestly, after those few weeks you assumed he was done talking to you. But here he was.
“Of course I meant it.” You nod with a soft smile, opening the door fully and stepping off to the side to allow him entry.
He shuffles past you, tension obvious in his gate with locked knees and his hands clenched in his pockets. You feel the density of his infinity as he passes you and make a mental note that he didn't come unguarded. If he didn't seem so volatile, you’d almost want to laugh at how comically large he looks standing in the living room between your ancient box tv and low set coffee table. He could easily reach up just a few inches above his head and flake off the little bits of plaster from your ancient popcorn ceiling.
Awkward tension settles for what feels like forever as he scopes out your living space. You can't imagine he's ever willingly allowed himself to associate with someone as… financially challenged as yourself. You did your best to make it homey, you really did, but it was hard when your ‘couch’ was actually a loveseat pulled from the side of the road on trash day, and all your wall art was thrifted.
“It smells good in here.” He finally breaks the silence, and you let out a breathless chuckle.
“I just threw some cookies in the oven, actually. I kind of thought for a second there you'd sniffed me out from all the way across town.” You attempt to loosen his demeanor, and he cracks a small grin, but it's tight lipped and forced.
“Did you, uh, wanna talk?” You prod, twisting your fingers nervously in front of you.
Immediately, his half hearted attempt at being humored by you is dropped. He chews on his cheek, one hand coming up behind him to paw at his scalp, the other staying firmly in his pocket as he thinks.
“Yeah,” He breathes “I just-”.
He fidgets uncomfortably, his head tilting as he seems to make eye contact with the ugly brown outdated wood paneling on your walls; you can't tell beneath the blindfold.
He clears his throat “I don't think I really know how.”.
“Okay. That's okay.” You draw a deep breath, nodding slowly and boring a hole into the carpet by his feet with slightly bewildered eyes as you attempt to formulate a plan for how to navigate the situation.
Eventually, you draw a deep breath, closing your eyes just briefly to re-ground yourself. When you reopened them, you stare directly into him, confident that you could do this.
“Tell you what, why don't you hop in the shower? I have some of my ex boyfriend's clothes that you can wear and by the time you get out the cookies should be done. Maybe after you're out of that uniform and have something on your stomach you'll feel a little better, yeah? We can circle back to the talking later.”
He cocks his head to the side, the ghost of his typical smug grin playing on his lips.
“You really think I'm gonna wear your ex's clothes? He obviously has no taste if he let a woman like you walk out.”
You roll your eyes and cock your hand against your hip, far too used to his flirty nature by this point and putting absolutely zero weight on his words. But you knew his games by this point, and felt fairly certain you could lead a horse to water. An intelligent, cocky, annoying, devilishly handsome, certifiably traumatized horse.
“You don't think you could make his sweatpants look good?”
He scoffs, much more comfortable teasing than directly approaching whatever it was that was eating at him, his shoulders loosening a bit.
“Babe, I could make rags look good.”
You let him help himself to your bathroom while you pillage around in your closet for your ex’s leftovers, hoping they'll suffice. He was a pretty tall guy, so you’re to too worried about that, but he was nowhere near as fit as Gojo, though you couldn't imagine anyone would be, what with the exorcism of curses constantly and all.
Eventually, you find a pair of gray sweatpants. Digging deeper into the box, you find a few t shirts. One is black with a gaudy band logo on the front in that heavy metal style lettering you could never make out, another has a rather… mysterious stain on the front, the other one was a gag gift you gave him several years back. Light pink, the front decorated with peace signs, hearts and smiley faces surrounding the words “alpha male” in bold white sparkly cursive lettering. You giggled and threw that one over your shoulder along with the sweatpants. You had a feeling Gojo would appreciate it far more than your ex had.
“Stop jackin’ it! I’m coming in!” You warn with a knock as you lean into the bathroom and place the outfit along with a towel on the counter.
“Damn, I was so close, too!” He sarcastically whines, and you're unsurprised to be able to see his eyes peeking at you overtop the shower curtain.
“How's the weather up there?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes with a scoff as you gather his uniform off the floor and leave to go throw it in the wash and check on the cookies.
You're just settling into one side of the tiny little loveseat when he emerges, looking much more relaxed, spinning his blindfold around one finger absentmindedly. You eye the t shirt, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from smirking at him, and it only somewhat works.
“I stand corrected-” He groans as he settles into the other side of the loveseat and kicks his bare feet up on the coffee table, his limbs taking up every inch of it with one arm flung all the way across the back and the other dangling lazily off the armrest, still holding his blindfold “-your ex must've fucking rocked. This shirt fucks-”.
You burst into laughter and toss your head back momentarily “I knew you'd like it!”.
You reach forward to hand him the plate of cookies, rolling your eyes incredulously as he immediately shoves one in his mouth and has to do that weird open-mouthed-blow-breathing around it because it's too hot.
“He actually never wore it.” You tell him, and his brow dips in suspicion as he chews “I got it as a gag gift for christmas and he didn't think it was very funny. He assumed I didn't get him an actual present as well.”.
He swallow's harshly, and then groans in overdramatized exaggeration as you reach for the remote “Well, it is an actual gift for me, because I’m keeping this shit.”.
“Who said you could have it?!” You tease as you flip the tv on, hoping the old DVD you were watching would be enough to placate him.
“I did, unless you wanna fight me for it.” His tone is suggestive, and you reach for a cookie, shaking your head and scrunching up your face to signal that it wasn't exactly worth your life.
“I’m gonna wear it under my uniform.” He tells you and you cover your mouth as you stifle a laugh through a mouthful of cookie “And after my students are done battling a tough ass curse in the middle of the city, I'll offer to take them to some fancy ass restaurant as a reward-”
“Gojo!” You protest, but you’re giggling, and so is he.
“The minute we get seated? I’m gonna be all ’Damn, it's hot in here! Is it hot in here to you guys?’ and then take my jacket off for the grand reveal.”
“Megumi is gonna murder you.” You tell him with a grin. You’d never met the kids, but you knew enough about them to pick up on the vibes. Gojo sometimes talked about them like a proud father, but more often than not like an annoying older brother.
“Yeah, yeah-” He waves his hand dismissively and snatches another cookie “Itadori will think it's funny, though.”.
The two of you eventually settle into silence as you eat, and you’re surprised to find that it's not uncomfortable. Gojo, for all his faults, was fun to be around, at least for you. It was just like your lunch breaks. Teasing, taunting, followed by comfortable silence. He carried with him a warmth that you couldn't quite explain, a certain aura of boyishness that made you fuzzy inside.
“You know,” You eventually break the silence “-sometimes I forget you're like, a god amongst men or whatever.”.
He tenses and sits up a little straighter. After his hair had dried he’d slipped his blindfold back on, and you absolutely despised that you couldn't read his eyes. You knew he wore it for logistical reasons, but sometimes you felt like it was just another barrier between him and the rest of the world. Him and you.
“Sorry.” You breathe when he doesn't respond.
He shakes his head and chuckles wryly “Don't be. It's not you, I just-”.
His hands tense and release repeatedly. He was always fidgeting in subtle ways, like he had more energy than he knew what to do with. You often wondered if he'd benefit from some sort of fidget toy.
“I don't see how you can separate me from it. My abilities, I mean. I don't see how anyone could ever separate me from it.”
Your eyebrows raise in concern, and attempting to display some modicum of validation without pushing, you nod, swallowing thickly. You couldn't understand him, couldn't say ‘I get it.’ because you both knew the truth; no one would ever truly get it. So instead you settle for “Okay.”.
“I don't even think I can separate me from it.”
He brings his hands out in front of him, turning them over and you wish, you want so badly to get into that brain of his.
“I think,” he sighs, dropping his hands and tipping his head back “You were right. The other week. I’m a slave to it. I've never been anything but a slave to it-”
“Gojo.” You breathe, and move the plate of cookies to the coffee table to slide closer to him “I didn't mean that for real, I was just joking, I swear-”.
“That doesn't make it any less true.” He argues immediately, and your heart sinks a little when you reach out to touch him and are stopped just a few inches short “My whole life, I've been the Six Eyes and Limitless combo. It's controlled absolutely everything about me from the very beginning.”.
A dam was breaking inside of him, and you could feel it. He was back to being just as tense as he was before, maybe even worse, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap him in your arms.
“You know Suguru? I told you about him, right?”
You nod. His half friend, half lover from highschool who had defected from Jujutsu Society and gone absolutely batshit. When Satoru told you about him, the conversation always started with a heartwarming or funny story and ended with a casual joke about Suguru turning into a genocidal maniac. You had the feeling the subject was sensitive, so you always just laughed.
“You know what he said to me before he left?”
You shake your head to confirm you didn't and he drew a deep shaky breath.
“He asked me ‘Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?’.”
Silence settles, tense and thick, and you bore holes into the ugly pattern of your couch, sitting on the opposite cushion with your hands folded in your lap.
“In the end,” His voice was raw, choking “I was only my abilities to him, too.”.
He sniffles and you lift your head. You can't see his eyes, but he hides his face in the crook of his arm anyway.
“Gojo, can I hold you? Please?” You damn near whisper.
He doesn't respond, but you feel the energy shift in the room, the air relaxing back into stasis. He had let his infinity down.
You crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs and pulling away the arm that was covering his face, wrapping it around your middle and allowing him to lean into your chest and cry in earnest. Your hands find purchase in his hair, scratching his scalp in soothing motions and then dipping under the neckline of his shirt to do the same between his shoulder blades. His hands grip at the back of your shirt for purchase, twisting the fabric there with force.
“I don't think that's what Suguru meant.” You offer, and he just squeezes you tighter.
“I think, what he was trying to get you to realize was that you have to find yourself beyond your strength. Beyond what you can do for the school or society.”
“Yeah?” It's quiet, muffled into the cloth of your shirt.
“Yeah.” You confirm, moving to cup his cheeks and pull his head back to look at you, which he allows “But also he was a crazy genocidal maniac, so-”.
At this, he laughs weakly, and you smile sympathetically.
“Some people clean diners with their curse technique, some slaughter villages, some have no sense of self beyond it-” Was his sarcastic half-attempt at a joke and you just roll your eyes and wrap him in a bear hug, squeezing him like you wanted him to melt right into your skin.
It feels like forever you just hold him like that.
“If it makes you feel better,” You mutter into the top of his hair “You've always been anything but your stupid curse technique to me.”.
He lifts himself from your chest, leaning back to look up at you “How so?”.
“Well,” you hum, thinking “When I think ’Gojo’ I think of the guy that harrasses me at work-”.
He chuckles, nodding.
“-I think of a devoted, albeit irritating by all accounts, mentor to some fairly kickass kids. I think of a handsome face and an infectious laugh-”
“Oh, now you're just stroking my ego.” He chides.
“No! I’m serious! Shut up for once, big mouth.” You scowl at him but there's no real fire behind it as he shrugs and interlocks his fingers behind his head. He’s trying to act nonchalant but you can see the tips of his ears turning red.
“I think of that one time you dropped by to see me, and you didn't know it but I had just broken up with my boyfriend that morning. I still had to work because I couldn't afford not to but all I wanted to do was stay in bed and cry like a little bitch. But then you showed up and all of a sudden it was bearable.”
He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, humming as his blush creeps from his ears all the way across the exposed portions of his cheeks.
“You mean a lot to me, Gojo.” You tell him, earnestly “And if you woke up tomorrow to find yourself stripped of every little bit of cursed energy- If you showed up at my door just a normal dude- nothing would change.”.
“You promise?” He asks, his voice small and hopeful, almost childlike.
“I swear, Gojo-”
“Satoru. Call me Satoru.”
“I swear, Satoru.”
And then he's pulling you into him by your collar, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, unsurprised to find that he's just as amazing at kissing as he is at anything else. It's precise at first, methodical, slowly pushing boundaries as his hands move to the nape of your neck and his tongue glides across your lips. You grant him entry, feeling the world around you melt as he explores your mouth with his tongue like he couldn't get enough, like he was memorizing all the ways his tongue could slot against yours.
He sucks on your bottom lip, grunting and nipping at the flesh, causing you to gasp and rock against him. He hisses at the friction, his hands moving to your hips to push you down harder, forcing you to feel the way his cock grows harder with every stroke.
It would never, ever be enough to get you off but the fact that you were dry humping Satoru Gojo was enough to have you throwing your head back in search of air, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as he licks a stripe from your collar bone to your chin.
“Fuck-” He spits, rocking you harder against his clothed erection “I think I have a praise kink. I've never been so horny in my whole life-”.
At this, you laugh, looking down at him with adoration.
“Yeah, buddy?” You tease and he squeezes your sides to reprimand the action “You want more?”.
His face turned a shade of brick you didn't think possible as he stuttered out a half chuckle “I-I don't- maybe?”.
“Maybe? Just maybe? You're awfully pretty but I'm gonna need a solid answer, Satoru~” You coo, testing the waters. His cock twitches beneath you and his breathing falters. He found his answer immediately.
“Yes, oh my god keep talking-” his whines, his hands fumbling erratically to get you out of your shirt.
“You're such a good boy.” You tell him as he pulls your bra off with a vengeance, like it owed him money “You make me so happy. You know why I haven't made a move on you yet, baby? I just didn't want to lose you, you're so-”.
You cut yourself off with a gasp and a whine as he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand kneading your neglected breast with ferocity and desperation.
“Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop.” His words are aggressive but his tone is high pitched and whiny, needy.
“You're so nice to look at, don't know what I’d do without that gorgeous face.” You look down at him and slide your thumbs along his temples, catching his blindfold and tossing it behind him carelessly “Wanna see your eyes, babe. You're too beautiful to hide from me.”.
He groans against your chest, his hand plunging into the soft material of your pants and immediately toying with your clit.
You couldn't believe this was actually happening. You’d always thought he was attractive, but that was just the thing. You and every other person with eyes. You hadn't allowed yourself to ever even toy with the idea of fooling around with Gojo because, well, he was Gojo. How had you ended up here, watching the pupils of his inhumanly gorgeous eyes blow wide and roll back in his head as he drew the world’s most perfectly timed circles on your clit?
“So good, Satoru. So fuckin’ good-” You keen, tugging back on the snowy silk of his hair to expose his throat to you, lapping at the skin there with as much adoration as you can muster. His fingers prod at your entrance and you experimentally suck hard against the sweet pale skin of his neck.
“Fuck, fuckfuck-” he sputters, sinking his pointer and index into you almost in reward to your action, curling and shifting until he hits that spongey spot that has you whimpering against his throat and rocking you hips in time to meet his movements “God damn, you're so tight. Can't wait to ruin it, baby. Just like I always wanted-”.
“You-” You jerk back to meet his gaze with a shocked expression “You thought about this before?”. He picks up pace, this speed brutal and almost too much and yet so, so delicious. Just like him.
He grins, devilish “Only every night since I first laid eyes on you. You have no idea how many times I’ve cum to the thought of you.”.
He's speaking over your mewls, delighting in the way your face twists and contorts with every thrust. Your indistinguishable sounds meld more and more into words until you're saying nothing but his name, over and over, and he feels your cunt fluttering around his fingers. Before you can cum, he withdraws, smirking like the cheeky little prick he is as you whine at the empty feeling.
“Satoru! I was gonna-!” He plugs your mouth with his soiled fingers, groaning as he swipes them back and forth over your tongue.
“What was that?” He asks tauntingly.
“I don't think I quite caught- ah, haha, fuck!” He giggles as you glare and bite down on his fingers in protest and he responds by shoving them in further, causing you to gag just a bit while his other hand dips below the band of his sweats, stroking himself in earnest. You get the hint and swirl your tongue along the length of his fingers in earnest, bobbing your head and moaning as if it were his cock poking at the back of your throat.
“Can't take it anymore, need you so bad-” He pants, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and bringing his hand around your head to pull you forward by your hair to kiss you, shuffling downwards until he's fully flat beneath you- well, almost. He's entirely too tall for your sad excuse of a sofa, one knee cocked awkwardly beneath you and the other dangling down onto the floor.
You giggle at him against his lips as he completely ignores what has got to be the most uncomfortable position in the world, pawing at your waistband desperately like he couldn't stand to see them on you for another second.
“C’mon, needy-” You tease as you lift yourself off of him, offering out your hand “Bedroom.”.
He looks like he wants to protest, but takes your hand anyway, playfully smacking your ass and causing you to yelp as you lead him down the short hallway to your bedroom.
“Aye!” You chastise and he just giggles like a little boy.
“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He sounds ridiculously satisfied with himself.
The minute you're over the threshold of the bedroom you go ahead and rid yourself of your bottoms, finding a sense of pride in the way he shamelessly eyes you over, swallowing thickly, red in the face.
“Mm? What is it, Satoru?” You purr, reaching up to pull his face down to meet your lips, sighing as he swirls his tongue against yours languidly.
“You're so pretty. So pretty.” He murmurs against your lips, and you smile against him. You knew there was a really sweet man underneath his teasing nature, and hearing it poke through has butterflies erupting in your belly.
Your kiss your way from his lips to his jaw, down his neck, nipping at his skin along the way until your kneeling in front up him, planting teasing kisses to the bulge in the front of his pants, loving the way his hands shake at the contact as they move to pet your hair.
“Y/n” He strains, and it sounds like a warning. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brow is furrowed, all his effort seemingly being used to restrain himself.
You hum in question, mischievously giggling as you tug at his sweatpants until they're pooling around his ankles, watching in awe as his cock springs free. He's huge, of course he's huge. He's Satoru Gojo. Your cunt clenches in anticipation, and you want nothing more than for him to rearrange your guts, but you sit on that feeling for the moment, unwilling to let the opportunity to get back at him for ruining your orgasm go to waste.
From there, you start at the inside of his knees, trailing sloppy kisses along the smooth inside of his thighs, and he lets out little pitchy whines in between breaths that tickle your ears and pet your pussy. You can feel your own arousal seeping down your bare legs, desperate for him.
“If you don't put my dick in your mouth, like, yesterday I am gonna loose my shit-” His eyes open, just barely as he watches you, sputtering out a low and throaty moan as you apply little kitten licks to his balls, bringing up one hand to thumb over the head of his cock and smear the precum leaking out of the tip across his frenulum.
“That so?” You murmur against the skin of his sack before pulling it into your mouth, stroking the top half of his dick at a tantalizing pace.
“Ah, holy shit-” He bucks into your hand, aching for more as your cheeky little giggle makes your lips vibrate against him “I’m s-so serious, y/n. You're playing with fire.”.
“I'll take my chances.” You smirk up at him.
“Don't.” He warns, his voice teasing but breathy, and then hisses as you drag the pointed tip of your tongue against the underside of his shaft, eyes full of mischief and ignoring him completely.
“Three.”
You raise your eyebrows in mocking question. Was he giving you a countdown?
You press your lips to the tip of his cock, pressing almost chaste kisses to the slit. He shudders.
“Two.”
You love the way he accidentally slips into sensei mode sometimes. It has you dripping. You want him to put you in your place.
You swirl your tongue around the tip and pump him once, twice-
“One.”
You look on your face was pure joy as you pushed your tongue out and flattened it against the underside of his cockhead, shaking your entire head back and forth teasingly.
“You're done.” He chuckles as the hands that had been loosely caressing your hair all of a sudden tangle hard in the locks and slam you down on his cock with reckless abandon, causing you to cough and gag around his girth.
The groan that escapes him is fucking music to your ears as he fucks your face with fervor, one hand coming down to rest under your jaw and feel himself poking at the tender muscle if your throat from the outside. You can't breathe, and you don't want to. You can't think, and you don't want to. In this moment, you only want to exist for him to use as he sees fit. As degrading as it is, as fucking disgusting as you feel with tears and drool streaming down your face, it turns you on to no end.
“Goddamn it, babe-” He grunts, pulling you off of him with a single fist in your hair, staring down at you with a heaving chest as he watches the strings of spit stretch and snap from his cock to your mouth in awe.
For a moment, all is silent, nothing but the sound of your mixed heavy breathing coating the room. And then your eyes wander from his face to his chest and you absolutely burst out laughing.
“Wha- Hello?” He starts giggling too when you snort, your forehead resting against his muscular thigh and your hands gripping his knee for some sort of purchase. You aren't sure if you're crying because you're laughing or because you just had approximately ten inches of cock crammed down your throat.
“I can't-” You wheeze, trying desperately to communicate “I can't take you seriously in that fuckin’ shirt!”.
He looks down with wide eyes and barks out a laugh “Dude, I totally forgot!”.
His hands find yours, pulling you to your feet as you both cackle, any dominant tension completely obliterated as you giggle into the fabric of that stupid fucking shirt.
He tips you back to press his lips to yours before muttering against you:
“You’re so fun. Get your goofy ass on this bed so I can fuck you stupid, dork.”
He didn't have to tell you twice.
Thankfully, he does remove the shirt before he goes to settle over top of you, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. He eyes you incredulously as you push on one side of his chest, guiding him to lay down flat on his back.
“You sure you can keep up with me?” He asks, impressed and a little playfully flummoxed at your bold decision.
“It's not that-” You take his hand and let him guide you, whimpering as you settle over his waist and his cock makes much needed contact with your clit “I just wanna take care of you, Satoru. Let someone else do the work for once.”.
He hisses as you rock the head of your clit against him, whining at the delicious friction for a few moments, killing two birds with one stone; giving you both pleasure and lubing him up with the steady stream of arousal that was seeping out of you. Deciding you’re ready, you lift up a bit, reaching underneath you to help guide the tip of his cock into your hole.
“Condoms?” He whimpers, something resembling common sense seeping through the lust filled haze.
“No need, unless you're not clean.” You grab his hand and guide him so he can feel the implant under your bicep.
He manages to throw you a look, full of faux-offense “Why would I be the one with the STD?”.
You just stare at him for a moment, your face all-knowing, until the two of you erupt into giggles again. You hoped he never matured. This version of him was your favorite.
He playfully smacks your ass “Hurry up, I wanna feel you- ah, ah fuck-”.
You sink down onto him slowly, watching his face fall open in pleasure with every inch deeper. Halfway down, his eyes roll back and his hands find purchase on your hips, willing you down a little quicker than you’re ready for but you allow it, too satisfying with the way he's blubbering beneath you, too satisfied with the stretch of him stuffing you to the absolute brim.
For a moment, you still, breathing heavy and bracing yourself against his abdomen with your palms as you struggle to adjust. You swore you could feel him in your throat.
“Y’okay?” He murmurs, his hands twitching at your sides, fighting his last shred of sanity as you nod and brace yourself to begin bouncing on his cock. His grip tightens on your waist and he says your name to grab your attention.
“Not yet, you'll tear something. Start like this-” He moves your hips with a vice grip, rocking you back and forth instead of up and down, every roll of your hips causing him to grind against your g-spot just right. It feels like lightning shooting through your core and you find yourself letting out little whimpers with every motion. Eventually he takes his hands off you and places them behind his head, alternating between watching with adoration in his eyes the place where your centers meet and the way your face scrunches in pleasure as you chase your high.
“That's it, baby.” He praises, breathless “Look at you, taking me so well. How's it feel, hm?”.
“So good, ‘Toru-” You keen as the pressure builds, and builds, and builds; fluttering you eyes closed and rocking faster, you miss the way his eyes sparkle at the new name. One of his hands reaches forward to thumb your clit in time with your movements and your pussy clenches around him in response, twitching and quivering around him as you dangle dangerously close to the edge.
“Oh my god, yes! ‘Toru- fuck- gonna cum, pleaseplease-!”
“Cum for me, baby-” His other hand reaches forward to push three fingers against your waist with a bit of force, just above your pubic bone and holy shit- Where'd he learn that trick?
The added pressure had your vision blurring white as you cried out a blended song of pleasure, collapsing into his chest as he groaned beneath you, his thumb still circling your clit as he helped you ride out your high.
You’ve barely had the time to collapse against his chest before he takes control from underneath, pounding into you with force. There's no pain save the overstimulation as the high of your previous orgasm never really ended, and all you can feel is him. He surrounds you, and invades you, bullying his tongue into your mouth with fervor, keening and whining with every thrust. He sounds so desperate. You're ears struggle to make out which sound is his and which is yours.
The overstimulation builds to a point you've yet to experience, tears pooling in your eyes and streaking down your face, shaken loose with the force of every thrust that rocks your body and smooths your brain.
“S-satoru-!” You cry out “Too much, please, it's too much-!”.
“Nonono-” He shushes you through pained and ragged breaths “I’m almost there baby just a little more. You can do that f’me, yeah? Be good, be good-”.
He thrusts become a little uneven as he shamelessly chases his own high, and you openly sob as he brings one hand to the nape of your neck and snakes one arm around the small of your back, pulling you entirely flush against him.
“Thank you, baby- fuck, thank you thankyouthank-” He babbles in your ear, barely above a whisper, and the sound is enough to send another oragasm rolling over you- or maybe the first one never really ended.
Instinctively, your teeth latch onto his shoulder and he hisses as his hips stutter and stall, hit ropes of cum coating your walls for what feels like forever. With a whimper, he shallowly thrusts a few times, fucking his cum into you as far as possible before slowly pulling out.
Slowly, he goes limp, his hold on you becoming loose and languid as you both catch your breath.
Eventually, he flips you down behind him, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his head into the soft valley of your shoulder.
“Satoru,” You complain “I’m gross-”.
Kiss-bitten lips press soft kisses to your shoulder, and he hums in acknowledgment, but doesn't let you up.
find me elsewhere here
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#jjk#gojo smut#jjk gojo#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#stsg if u squint#cope fic#fix it fic#satoru gojo
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8. “What are you wearing right now?” w/ Trevor Zegras
I love your work!!!
Prompt: “What are you wearing right now?”
Note: i actually got so excited to write this because i recently have watched a few videos with Trevor and his personality cracks me up, so i tried channeling it as best i could since im still not super familiar with him 😅🤞🏼thank you so much for the kind words, hopefully you love this as well!
“I am desperate for this road trip to end, ohhh my gosh.”
Trevor playfully groaned as you heard him unlocking the door to his hotel room, laughing as you rolled over in bed to plug your phone in after placing the call on speaker.
“So you can get home to see me right?”
You joked as you bit your lip, Trevor agreeing as he set his wallet on the table before plopping down on the bed. “Well of course! That’s actually the only thing getting me through this road trip. I keep dreaming about your world famous pancakes, oh baby I can’t wait to get some of those when I get home.”
“Trev, you’re the only person who has ever eaten my pancakes, not sure they are world famous.”
He laughed as he protested, “Not true, I travel the world and tell people, so they are most definitely world famous.” “If you wanna count Canada and the United States as the world, then it sounds good to me babe.”
The two of you sighed, almost in unison, as you both lay in bed staring at the ceiling. This road trip had been one of the longest Trevor had been on in awhile, and you were definitely missing him. In more ways than one.
The bed felt colder, bigger, without him sleeping next to you. The dinner table was more lonely. Watching your favorite shared trashy reality tv definitely wasn’t the same. Though you two would check in after episodes to debrief and be sure you both stayed up to date on things.
As you laid in bed thinking of Trevor, one of his tshirts covering your body, engulfing you in the smell of his cologne. You were tempted to see how much fun you could have with him.
“Hey Trev?”
“Hmm?”
He hummed a response as he laid in bed with his eyes closed, enjoying the sound of your voice as he intently listened.
“What are you wearing right now?”
His eyes shot open at your words, not expecting that to come out of your mouth in a million years. “Uhhhhhh, ummm.”
You slightly smirked at how flustered he’d become, though you weren’t entirely surprised. This wasn’t something you’d ever tried with him before.
“See, there’s a really funny story about what I’ve got on. But, I just, I don’t know if I can confess to it right now.”
Rolling onto your side you stared at your phone confused, wondering what the hell your boyfriend had on. “Yeah no you’re definitely gonna have to explain because what?”
The two of you were laughing as Trevor was growing red with embarrassment. “Okay, fine. So..John thought it would be a great idea for us to do one of those t-shirt exchange things for our team dinner tonight. And, god mine is awful! I don’t even know if I can tell you babe.”
The idea of John Gibson coordinating a t-shirt exchange for the team dinner had you practically in tears. It was nothing surprising from this group of guys, but you could only imagine some of the shirts they’d bought for each other.
Trevor continued on, telling you some of the shirts the other guys were stuck wearing, but the ping of a new text distracted you as you opened up a message from the culprit John Gibson himself.
The text was simply a photo of Trevor smiling, with two thumbs up in his t-shirt that read “Appreciate the little things” with an arrow pointing down at his crotch.
“Oh my god, well, John beat you to it and told me himself.”
Trevor couldn’t hold in his laughter as he heard you cackling into your pillow.
“It’s so bad! Like I had one of the worst shirts tonight, imagine how embarrassing that was to wear out!”
He groaned as you were finally reeling in your amusement.
“Maybe they are just jealous, or they didn’t want people to know what you’ve really got going on down there, so it was like a fake out.”
“Who freaking knows, but I think I need to burn this shirt. And the pictures, gotta burn the pictures.”
“Well, it looks like Caufield got his hands on it, so I’m not sure your efforts will be worth anything.”
Trevor cursed to himself at the thought of his best friend having the photo. Knowing instantly that it would be sent out in every group chat and plastered everywhere for anyone to see.
“Well, it was nice knowing you. Because if Caufield has that photo I am officially retiring and entering the witness protection program.”
“Trevor, don't be so dramatic! I’m sure it’s all gonna be fine.”
Another groan escaped his lips as you assumed he’d gotten a text or someone had posted a picture of him, not bothering to ask as to not make him feel any worse than he already did. Just letting him continue being a little dramatic, promising him world famous pancakes when he got home to try and lift his spirits.
#trevor zegras#trevor zegras fluff#trevor zegras imagine#trevor zegras blurb#nhl imagine#nhl fics#nhl fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey imagine#nhl blurb
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Monster (3)
Pairing: Chan x Reader x Felix
Genre: Mafia, Arranged Marriage
Warning: Language, some violence, threats
Word Count: 2k
Taglist: @gloriajovicc @bluebeard67 @stephanieeeyang @mouseyboo @stayatinykatsy @thicccurls @thecutiepieme @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @kayleefriedchicken @msauthor @purple-bell @bluesiebirdie @jisunglyricist @skzdust @chloe-elise-2000
One | Two |
“To being single!” You cheer, clanking your shot glasses together with Chan and Felix. The two of them had picked you up, taking you out to celebrate your new found freedom. You were so happy about your decision, but felt so fucking guilty. It was almost like you felt as though you didn't give Seojoon enough of a chance to explain, or a chance to change himself to be better. Part of you wondered if you rushed this break up, maybe you were thinking rashly when you ended it, maybe you should have thought about it a little bit longer and waited?
No, no. You spent years with him, had countless conversations with him about his behavior and he never changed a thing. Or if he did, it was for a week or a few before he went right back to being the same as before. It was absolutely exhausting to be with him. But now you're done with him.. right?
You shook off your thoughts, focusing back on the two you were out with. You laughed and smiled with Chan and Felix, you were trying to have a good time and let these feelings go, but fuck, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that was consuming you, it had been hours and you felt heavy carrying it around, and the two men you were with seemed to notice.
“What's going on?” Chan asks, crossing his arms on the table.
“You look worried.” Felix mentions.
“I don't know.” You sigh. “I feel sort of guilty about breaking up with Seojoon. Like maybe I should have given him more of a chance, you know?”
Both men try to hold in their laughter but fail miserably.
“Don't.” Chan chuckles. “It was the right move.” He tells you.
“You definitely made the right choice. How much longer were you going to let yourself be miserable with him?” Felix asks.
“I probably wouldn't have stayed much longer if I didn't do it. It was really emotionally draining and so taxing.” You say.
“You're definitely better off.” Chan smiles, Felix agreeing.
You know they're right but their words didn't help soothe your guilt and unfortunately you didn't know what would. So instead of trying to find a solution, you kept drinking, cocktails, shots, and beer. You left Felix and Chan at the table while you went to the dance floor, happily dancing by yourself, your eyes closed, feeling the beat of the music flowing through your body. You feel someone in front of you, opening your eyes. It's a man you didn't recognize, he moved closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear. His hands hold onto your arms tightly. “You shouldn't have come here. You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve being here, especially with who your fucking father is. He's a fucking rat.” He aggressively shouts into your ear. You whip your head around, a terrified look spread across your face. Your eyes meet with Felix, who stands up, rushing towards you with Chan following closely behind.
“I’ll be seeing you real fucking soon.” He shouts, releasing you just as Felix and Chan approach you. You try to find him, but you lose him in the crowd of people on the dance floor.
“What happened?” Felix asks. He grabs your cheeks, keeping your head still to look at him. “Breathe, baby girl. Deep breaths.” He says. You inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth, and he asks again. “Who was he? Did he hurt you?”
“That man.. he said I had a lot of nerve being here.. given who my father is.. he said my father is a rat..and that he'll see me soon.” You say, shaking at the memory, you can still feel his hands on you.
Felix grabs your hand, pulling you off the dance floor and back to the booth. “Do you know who he was?” Chan asks as Felix throws some cash onto the table to pay for the drinks before he grabs your purse and the three of you leave the club.
“Where are we going?” You ask as you get into the back seat of the car.
“Your dad's.” Felix sighs.
“Who was he, Y/N?” Chan asks.
“I don't know. I don't think I've ever seen him before.” You tell him. you try to think back, but he didn't look familiar at all.
“He smelt like cigarettes and whiskey. His voice was deep, but not as deep as Felix's.” You say. You're trying to think of any identifying qualities about the man but there really was nothing and you were still really drunk. “Brown hair? I think. I don't know, I wasn't fully paying attention.”
“We'll be at your dad's soon. Just keep trying to remember until we get there.” Chan says.
You spend the next twenty minutes trying to remember anything else until the three of you pull into your fathers driveway.
“Dad?” You call out as soon as you step into the house.
“Y/N?” He calls back, stepping out of his office. He sees you, with Felix and Chan standing closely behind you. “What's going on? And why are you with them?” He asks. You walk towards your dad, pulling him back into his office, Chan and Felix standing towards the back as you sit at the desk.
“..he grabbed me out of nowhere and whispered it into my ear. And Chan and Felix brought me here immediately after.” You say.
“Is there anything significant you can remember about him? Tattoos? Scars? Anything?” Your dad asks.
“He smelt like cigarettes and whiskey. Brown hair, I think. I couldn't see him very well, dad. What the fuck is going on? Why did he call you a rat? What are you doing?” you ask.
“Don't worry about what I'm doing, Y/N. I'm doing what's best for this family. Which is joining the Lee's. Aren't one of you supposed to be getting married to Mia?” He says, pointing between Chan and Felix. They both look at each other, Felix motioning for Chan to speak to your father.
“Uh, Mr. L/N.. the thing is, we're both actually interested in Y/N..” Chan says, semi confidently, his hands behind his back.
Before your dad can speak, Wonho rushes into the room. “Sorry sir, but there's an issue.” Wonho says, glancing around the room. Your dad stands up, going to the hallway, closing the door behind him. You're still drunk. You turn around as much as you can in your chair, looking at both men. Your smirk as you point to yourself, and then between the two men.
“You like me?” You ask, scrunching up your nose, trying to hide the blush that's spreading across your face.
“Y/N.” Your father yells, barging back into the room. “Go to the safe house for a while. You need to lay low. Now.” He snaps.
“Not the safe house.” You groan. “It's so dingy, dad, what's happening?” You ask.
“Sir, can she stay with us? We would set the world on fire before letting anything happen to her.” Chan says.
“I don't know.” Your dad sighs. “One of you is supposed to be marrying Mia.”
“With all due respect, sir, neither of us are going to marry Mia.” Felix says. “And we will be talking to father about it.”
“You know what, I don't have time for this. Y/N go with them. Keep your phone on. Boys make sure she grabs her important things from her place and fucking make sure no one is there.” He sternly tells them. Both men usher a drunk you from the house and into the car. You can hear the two of them in the front talking about what they think the issue that Wonho told your father about was.
“Do you think it has anything to do with the guy from tonight?” You ask.
‘It's hard to tell.” Felix sighs. A while later you pull up to your apartment building. Both men began to get out of the car before you stopped them.
“I'm gonna be in and out. 10 minutes tops.” You smile. “You can't even get in here without a key card, no one is waiting for me in there, I can guarantee that.”
Both men look at each other, they're unsure if they should just let you go, but you don't wait for them to decide. Instead you get out and walk towards the door, scanning your card to enter. The door closes behind you, making it so they couldn't get in to you even if they needed to.
You walk into your apartment, dropping your purse and keys, swiftly moving to your bedroom. You grab some clothes, pj’'s, phone charger, toiletries, laptop and anything else you thought you might need. As you finish shuffling everything into the duffle bag, you hear the sound of a gun cocking from behind you, feeling the barrel pressed to the back of your head.
“Who are you?” You whisper. A hand grabs your shoulder, turning you around.
The man from the bar. “I need to know what else your dad has been going around saying.” He shouts, pinning you against the wall.
“I don't know what you want me to tell you! He doesn't tell me anything!” You shout as he presses the barrel to your temple.
“He's doing something shady! I need to know what the fuck it is, now!” He screams. Before you can answer, your front door busts open. Chan and Felix rush in, Chan grabs the collar of the man's shirt, pulling him off of you, throwing him to the ground.
“You okay, baby girl?” Felix asks, his eyes checking you over as his hands hold you. You nod your head, Chan looks between you and the man, he rushes for him,the man scrambles to his feet, Chan reaches out for him, but he darts out the door before he can catch him.
“Was that him?” Chan asks, sweat dripping from his forehead as he points towards the door. “I told you we shouldn't have let you go alone.” He yells. you had never seen him so mad before, and he looked so fucking hot.
“Let's go.” Felix says, picking up your bag, carrying it out to the car. You walk in between the two, Chan in front of you and Felix behind. Chan watches as you get outside, his eyes darting around the parking lot as you make your way to the car. You slide into the back seat, Felix placing your bag beside you. As the three of you drive away, your mind wanders to what he was talking about. Your dad was doing something shady, but he always does shady things, this wasn't something new. But what could be so bad that he comes after you for information? Yes you were in the life but you weren't currently actively involved like you wanted to be. That was Mia, she was getting in deeper and deeper with your father but neither would tell you about it. They had their own little secrets, meetings and things that they did.
You're lost in your head for the duration of the drive, until you pull up to a big, beautiful house. Bright lights shone from the top of the two large brick towers. It almost reminded you of the front of a hotel.
“You live here?” You gasp.
“Yeah.” Felix chuckles.
Chan parks the car, grabbing your bag from the back before the three of you walk in, passing the security at the front door.
“Chan, Felix, come in here for a minute.” Their dad yells, you're assuming from his office. You walk behind them, stopping when they do. “I'm glad you're home.” He says. “This is Mia. The one that one of you will be marrying.” The two men separate, revealing you. Your sister turns her head, smiling as she sees you.
“Hi Y/N.” She says. “Hi boys.”
“Dad.” Felix starts. “Neither of us want to marry her. We've been over this.”
“One of you will marry Mia. The other can have Y/N. You must decide, and you decide soon.” Their father says, clearing his throat.
“Or I'll pick for you.”
#straykidsland#lee felix#bang chan#skz felix#skz chan#stray kids#skz#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz writing#stray kids writing#skz scenarios#kpop fanfic#kpop writing#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines
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-->And then -- time for a snowball fight! Because, well, it was cold, there was snow on the ground, so why not? XD They all ran around throwing snowballs at each other and having a lovely time for a few rounds (Smiler even getting a happy sentiment with both Victor and Alice about how much fun they were having) – but, unfortunately, Alice’s werewolf instincts interrupted and made her very testy and in need of a nap. *sigh* Darn finicky temperaments... So I ended the fight and let her get in a snooze in the snow by the bar while Victor headed over to the observatory to observe the sky (no new print, unfortunately) and Smiler went looking for frogs in all the frog logs (getting a Striped Leaf, Striped Eggplant, and Striped Dirt -- none of which they actually needed, but at least they can be used for breeding?). Alice woke up once her energy was better and her instincts quieted, then grabbed another plate of meat and cheese before running over to meet Victor and Smiler by the observatory, where they were making more snow angels. Everyone happily came together to spin some noisemakers and throw/blast confetti in honor of the holiday –
Just in time for the date to end on gold level! :D You love to see it. (Though I think all they got out of it was another VIP bucket – I wish that the date rewards were a little more varied!)
-->However, before they went home, I REALLY wanted them to get a cute trio shot together somewhere in the park. You know me and my love of taking in-game pictures of them, after all. :p After looking around (and unsuccessfully trying to direct them all to the same spot in front of one of the fish fountains just off-lot), I decided one of the corner fountains would do and had them head over there via their various teleports. I had Alice get out her tripod, then tried positioning it right outside the gap in the hedges leading to the fountain, hoping that would lead to a good shot. There was the usual trouble in trying to set UP the group shot – a bit of lag, Smiler insisting on presenting some flowers to Victor just before they were to wait for the photographer – but, having learned my lesson from previous attempts, I just shut off autonomy for a while before giving it another go –
Aaaand discovered that the camera was facing at the most awkward angle to the group EVER. XD Now, fortunately, when your camera is on a tripod, you can actually spin it around 360 degrees to get a better angle. UNFORTUNATELY, when I did that, Victor and Smiler were half-behind the hedges, meaning there really was no better angle. *facepalm* I took a few snaps just because I wanted SOMETHING from the date, but I don’t know if any of these will be going up on the wall! At least, not where visitors can see. :p
#sims 4#the lazy save#victor van dort#alice liddell#smiler always#yeah why not the trio hadn't had a snowball fight in a while#as usual poor Victor got picked on#though he got in a good shot or two himself#and yes that is Felipe Sisson jogging by in a COMPLETELY inappropriate for the weather outfit in a couple of shots#dude I know you're trying to keep healthy but you don't have to give yourself frostbite doing it XD#(she says as she makes Alice sleep in the snow in her human form)#I was really hoping for more luck with Smiler's frogs but alas#at least I might be able to breed one they need out of them#and if not -- plasma packs#and yeah I thought I was lined up perfectly for a nice shot#and then the game went into the actual picture-taking mode and#XD I mean I TRIED#they probably have enough pictures of themselves on the walls anyway#again I ask for a photo album object#be so much easier#queued
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My favoritism is Obvious
Tfw I spent all the rest of my money buying bow upgrades for The Boy
In an entirely predictable move, I'm pretty sure he's my favorite
#speculation nation#engage spoilers/#he's like a mix of my favs from two other games. felix and takumi lol#he even looks like felix. though his personality couldnt be more different lmfaoo#but that same sort of Little Brother Syndrome that both felix and takumi have...#never feeling like they can surpass their elder brother.. feeling Jealousy about it... & other feelings for felix but this aint about him#combine felix's appearance with takumi's bow skill (& slightly more pathetic mannerisms) and U get alcryst#alcryst is so... sopping wet pathetic. the absolute most pathetic boy in existence#putting himself down CONSTANTLY. extreme sense of inferiority to his Model Crown Prince brother#alcryst keeps making comments about being a waste of space and i wanna take him by the shoulders and tell him#YOU ARE AN AMAZING ARCHER. BEST IN MY ARMY. INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT MEMBER. I LOVE YOU.#he looks So cool when he's not literally prostrating himself for unknowingly shooting at the divine dragon. lmao#but yea he's everything i love in a fictional character. Angsty boy with elder sibling issues. apparently that's a constant for my favs#also I HAD HIM WITH LIEF. IT WAS SUCH A GOOD COMBO. BUT THEN THEY TOOK MY RINGS AWAY 😠😠😠😠#dont worry alcryst i'll get ur emblem ring back. at some point...#also between the upgrades and engraving on the killer bow. it now has a 67% crit rate#which is kind of INSANE. this is a bow of Fuck You#i love having archers that are a death sentence.#even better is that with 'canter' he can go up. one-shot someone. then dart back behind the line#he's got a decent defense but at the end of the day he's an archer. a glass canon. GOD i love him so much#both as a unit and as a character. sopping wet tissue of a boy. i love him
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Making Sure: 12 Days of Smut #3 - Sex Pollen
Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot
Summary: Bucky is exposed to a sex pollen while the two of you are snowed in, stuck in a cabin in the Swiss Alps after finishing up a mission. Oh, and of course, you happen to be his ex-girlfriend.
Warnings: profanity, dubcon (sex pollen), possessive!Bucky, breeding kink, unprotected sex, mutual pining of sorts, some use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.
Word Count: 4k
A/N: My laptop decided it didn't want to turn on today, and then when it finally turned on it didn't want to run any apps so 12 Days of Smut almost became 11 Days of Smut. But anyway, let me know if you guys like this one! For once, it doesn't involve anyone hating anyone or an obscene amount of unbearable tension (which I severely miss).
It’s not all that hard to work with your ex, not when you ended on decent terms. Well, as decent as they could have been. When Bucky broke up with you three months ago, it wasn’t completely out of the blue. You hadn’t been having any problems, you never had any fights, but you knew he was never as into the relationship as you were. He had said from the very beginning that he didn’t think he ever wanted a lifelong commitment. The majority of his life had been spent without having true freedom to make his own decisions. It’s safe to say the man only had about six years of making decisions for himself, between turning eighteen and joining the army. Then the army had a say in everything he did until he was taken by HYDRA. HYDRA controlled him for so long, and honestly, they still have some form of control over him if you consider his nightmares and insomnia issues. So, when things started to feel a little too serious between you two, when Bucky started to realize that he actually loved you, that’s when he called it off.
You’d both agreed to keep the relationship between yourselves, remaining professional at work and around the others. Even Sam had never figured it out. Bucky was so good at keeping it hidden, staying completely stoic unless he was positive you were both alone. When things ended between you two, he became stoic all the time. There have been a few times where you’ve felt a bit angry with how easily he can just shut himself off and pretend like you never had anything between you. You think you might’ve been in love with him. How can you be stoic around him when you loved him? You can’t be. So, instead of being stoic, you’re just a little more quiet than usual. You get your job done, you speak to him as professionally as you can, and then you get away from him.
Unfortunately though, there’s no getting away from him tonight. Technically, your mission is already over. You broke into HYDRA’s only remaining functional lab, you stole at least one sample of each of the various compounds that they were working on, and then you got the hell out of there. You made it all the way back to the safehouse, a small rustic cabin a little ways up in the Swiss Alps. It had been snowing for the last twenty-four hours that you’d been here, but the winter weather came to a head to today on your drive back from the break-in. By the time you got all of the samples safely inside the cabin, there was no way either of you could make the drive back down the mountain to reach the quinjet. You’re stuck here for the night.
“I want them kept at a pretty low temperature overnight, well below thirty degrees.” Bruce has been watching you over a video call as you’ve been cataloging the samples and packing them safely into a padded case. “It’d probably be best to leave them all in the trunk of the car, since it’s so cold out there.” Bucky’s sitting in the living area while you’re working at the kitchen table, but he’s still listening in. He’s listened for the last half hour as you labeled the samples and hummed a little Christmas tune to yourself. Truthfully, he almost forgot that Christmas is in a few days until he heard you humming that song that you love so much. What was it? He can never remember the name, but he recognizes it from last Christmas. You sang it often and he was lucky enough to still be yours then, to still get the privilege of listening to you flit around the tower so festively, infecting everyone around with your cheerful spirit.
“They all fit in the case except for one, but it should be fine. I’ll just stick it in the trunk next to the case and slip it into my bag tomorrow before we drive out.” You say, holding up the thin glass flask containing a very watery, clear liquid. It looks the least terrifying, out of all of the chemicals you retrieved from the lab today.
“Good work today, we’ll see you guys back here tomorrow, if the weather permits.” Bruce gives a little wave before ending the video call. Just as you’re closing the heavy black case of samples, Bucky rises from his seat on the couch and joins you in the kitchen.
“I’ll take them out.” He offers, staying a few feet away from you but at least making eye contact with you. He doesn’t seem to look at you very often since you broke up, but you can’t complain about it. It makes it a little easier to get over him when you’re not drowning in his blue eyes. You give him a curt nod before sliding the case across the table and then setting the sealed flask of clear liquid on top of it.
“Try not to jostle them around too much, carry it with two hands.”
“Got it, two hands.” Bucky repeats. You watch as he lifts the case, leaving the glass flask resting on the lid. You think about carrying the lone chemical out there in your own hands, worrying that Bucky might tip the case a little too far and let the flask fall to the ground outside, but you brush off the worry. He’s never been clumsy, and he sure as hell hasn’t ever been careless. It’ll be fine. It’s just a short walk from the front door to the back of the car.
In retrospect, you should’ve listened to your instincts.
When Bucky rushes in the front door only a minute after he’s stepped outside with the chemicals, a sickening feeling settles deep in your stomach. You quickly turn to the source of commotion as he slams the door shut behind him and starts nearly jogging across the cabin, heading straight for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
“Bucky? What happened?” You call out, your feet carrying you down the hall after him. Bucky strips off his coat, dropping it on the floor in the hall before throwing the bathroom door open and ripping off his shirt. He doesn’t even close the bathroom door. You step over his coat and come to a stop in the doorway as he leans down and turns on the shower.
“Stay back.” He warns, giving you a sideways glance that makes your stomach flip. “I slipped on a patch of ice and the little glass thing on top of the case fell and shattered. Whatever was in it evaporated quick, but I inhaled a lot of it. I don’t know if I got any on me.”
Shit. This is not good. Bucky starts unbuckling his belt, but stops himself after he gets it undone, finally turning and looking you straight in the eye. Right. You’re not together anymore.
“Only rinse, don’t use soap. We don’t know what the chemical was or what might interact with it.” You say, forcing your voice to sound calmer than you feel. Bucky nods, and then shuts the door between the two of you. Shit. You knew you should’ve carried that damn flask yourself.
---
Half an hour later, after Bucky’s finished showering and is resting on the couch per yours and Bruce’s orders, he begins to feel something. He wanted to go to bed, just sleep it off and see how he felt in the morning, but you and Bruce insisted that he stay in the living room and awake so you could monitor him for any weird signs or symptoms. You miss the first few symptoms that Bucky begins to feel. First, his heart rate began picking up. It was so miniscule at first that even he didn’t notice it, but it increased more and more until he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then, even in the chilly little cabin with a near-blizzard raging outside, Bucky began to feel hot. Hot to the point of wanting to take off everything he was wearing and go lay in the snow. Now he sits on the couch, breathing a little quicker than he was earlier, with beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. It’s his increased respiratory rate that you notice first. Then, as you begin looking him over from your far away seat at the kitchen table, you see the way his cheeks are flushed and the way his dark gray t-shirt is beginning to stick to the sweat coming off of his back. Shit. Whatever it was that he was exposed to, it sure as hell wasn’t nothing.
You’re just about to ask Bucky what he’s feeling when he abruptly stands from the couch and looks right at you, his gaze wild and pupils blown.
“Bucky—” You start, but he cuts you off in an instant.
“I don’t know what was in that flask, but I’ll be fine. I’m not going to sit out here all night.” Bucky’s trying to play it off. He has no fucking idea if he’ll actually be fine, but the newest physiological response his body is having to the chemical isn’t one he wants you to become aware of. He’s aroused. His cock is harder than it’s ever been, and he’d rather sleep outside on the icy road and get run over by Santa’s fucking sleigh then stay this close to you. He worries he won’t be able to control himself if he has to look at you one more time tonight, if he even hears another breath leave your lips, he’ll be done for.
“Bucky, tell me what you’re feeling.” You say softly, pushing your chair away from the table and standing, but not daring to move any closer to where he stands in the living room. He scrunches his eyes closed and presses his vibranium hand to the back of his neck in an attempt to cool the skin there.
“Y/n, I’m going to bed.” He sounds so frustrated. It’s a tone of voice you actually recognize. This is how he used to sound when you’d tease him at the worst times, when you were somewhere that restricted him from being able to touch you, to fuck you.
“Is it what I think it is?” You ask, your voice impossibly quieter than before. Bucky’s eyes snap open now and he studies you. Looking at you makes his dick throb and his balls feel so fucking full and heavy. He closes his eyes again as quickly as he opened them and then, you’re sure. It was a fucking sex pollen.
You don’t dare make a move to stop Bucky when he hurries down the hall and locks himself in his bedroom. You stand frozen in the kitchen for the next two minutes, trying to figure out what the hell you should be doing in a situation like this. You end up doing what you do best: researching. You sit yourself right back down at the table and open your laptop, quickly accessing the online archive of SHIELD research files. You type in every word you can possibly think of to find what you need. Luckily, the first article that pops up is exactly what you needed.
You skim through it at lightning speed, your eyes picking up on the important details. Heightened senses, increases sexual drive ten-fold, may result in permanent disability or death if state of intense arousal is not rectified. Shit, this is bad. You’re wondering how the hell one is supposed to rectify the intense arousal when your eyes land on the most key piece of information in the entire article. Human trials have revealed that allowed the specimen to engage in sexual intercourse is the only successful way to return to a normotensive physiological state.
You have to fuck. You have to convince him to have sex with you. You have to convince the man who broke up with you three months ago to have sex with you. You’ve suddenly decided that you fucking hate your job.
However, you’re not going to sit around while Bucky becomes permanently disabled or lets himself die of exposure to a damn HYDRA sex pollen. So, you slam your laptop shut and march right down the hall. You tap your knuckles against his bedroom door three times, until you hear the bed creak slightly, so you at least know he’s alive. He doesn’t make a single move to answer the door. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress so hard that it’ll probably never spring back into shape. His sense of hearing is heightened so much that he can hear every breath you take. He thinks he can even hear the sound of your eyelashes fluttering as you blink.
“Bucky, I did some research.” God, just the sound of your voice might be enough to make him cum in his sweats. Bucky bites his bottom lip and looks down at where his erection is fighting to escape the confines of his sweats. “If this is a sex pollen, which I think we both know it is, it can kill you. The only way to fix this is to…” Your voice trails off, but you don’t have to finish your sentence for Bucky to know what the solution is here. But he won’t ask that of you. He refuses to ask you to sleep with him. He knows he broke your heart three months ago, and he’d be the world’s biggest asshole if he used you for relief now. So, he stays silent. “We could…”
You can’t seem to finish any of your sentences. Why is it so hard for you to say we could fuck. Oh, right. Because you’ve missed the way he fucks for months. Because you know that if he wasn’t under the influence of this chemical right now, he sure as hell wouldn’t be turned on around you. You’d happily have sex with him right now, but he’d only be doing it because he has to do it to survive.
“I know I’m probably the last person that you’d want to be offering this, but I’m offering. I don’t want you to sit in there and die.” You say softly, your voice cracking a little bit on the final word. The last person he’d want to be offering this? Fuck, you have no idea how he really feels, do you? Bucky screws his eyes shut and fights back the urge to throw the door open and tell you how much he fucking loves you, how much he’s missed you. It’s why he broke up with you in the first place. What if something happened one day that turned him right back into the Winter Soldier? What if he ended up on ice again and by the time he came out of cryo, you were dead and gone? He had to break up with you, because he felt like his future was always too unclear to promise it to someone.
“I’m here, Bucky, if you need me.” You whisper, with your forehead pressed against the cool wood of the door. He can tell that you’re hurting for him. It’s why, against his rational mind, he finds himself crossing the room and tugging the door open. When he sees you standing there in the light of the hallway, he can hear that little Christmas tune that you love so much playing in his head. Fuck it.
You’ve barely had a second to realize that Bucky’s just opened the door for you before you feel his hand fist in your hair and he yanks you forward against his chest. His mouth captures yours in a heated kiss. Bucky sucks your bottom lip between his and wastes no time in using his hold on your hair to tilt your head to the side and slide his tongue into your mouth. You act on muscle memory, kissing him the same way you used to every single day. You let his tongue dance around your mouth, but when he begins to pull back you suck on it lightly, earning a groan from him. He tastes just like you remember, and suddenly you want him so badly that for all you know you could have some sex pollen coursing through your veins.
“The last person I’d want to be offering this?” Bucky rasps against your lips, briefly looking into your eyes as he repeats your words in question. “You’re the only person I’d want to be offering this.” He pulls on your hair again, tilting your head further to the side and sucking on the skin right below your ear. Your eyes close as you try to calm your racing heart, reminding yourself that as perfect as this might feel right now, it won’t last.
It takes mere seconds for Bucky to pull you into his room and practically throw you onto his bed. When he crawls over you a second later, it’s like he’s suddenly realized you both still have your clothes on. He stands back up beside the bed and strips quickly, exposing every bit of his fucking heavenly body to you. You don’t even try to choke back the whimper that leaves your lips. Bucky freezes when he hears it. He’s heard it before. He’s heard it in his dreams, ever since you broke up. It’s sort of funny. He never had dreams before, only nightmares. Until he broke up with you, and then he started having dreams about you every night. They’ve replaced nearly every nightmare. Instead of HYDRA being the reason he’s up at night, it’s all you.
You start shimmying out of your pants right there on the bed as you look at Bucky, too impatient to stand up and take everything off like he did. He strokes his cock slowly in one hand, but every time his palm glides over the tip he makes a face like he’s in pain. You know from your brief research that touching himself won’t give him an ounce of relief, it’ll only make things worse. So, once you have your pants off, you reach up and grab his wrist, stopping his stroking, and pulling him closer to the bed. He gets the hint and positions himself on top of you again, spreading your legs apart with his knee before settling between them.
“I’ve missed you.” Bucky coos against the side of your neck, right as you feel the head of his cock brushing against your clit through your already soaked panties. He didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t want to make the break up any harder for you, but fuck. He’s missed having you under him like this, though in the past you never kept your panties and shirt on when you were under him.
“I’ve been right here.” You respond quietly, letting your hands coast down his sides until you feel the way his back muscles are rigid underneath your palms. He’s restraining himself. “Bucky, you don’t have to hold back.” He sighs deeply and grinds his cock against you, hard. It draws a moan from your lips that’s so needy, Bucky can’t wait any longer. He knows he’s only waited a minute at this point, but he just can’t anymore. He reaches down between the two of you and snags a finger in your panties, deftly pulling them to the side and guiding his cock straight into you without warning. The cry that escapes you isn’t one of pain or surprise, it’s one of pure lust. It might’ve been three months since the last time you had sex, but your body accepts his cock like it never left. There’s no pain, there’s only pleasure as he starts fucking into you slowly. He builds the pace up in mere seconds, speeding up more and more until he’s fucking you so hard and fast that the headboard is snapping against the wall and scratching the paint.
“God, you’re still so fucking tight for me.” He groans, burying himself balls deep inside you. He stays still for a moment, letting your pussy grip his cock like a vice.
“It’s still yours.” You whisper the words against his jawline. When his eyes snap open and stare straight into yours, you know you probably shouldn’t have said it. His pupils are already overly dilated, but they expand a little more as possessiveness flares in his chest. He always loved when you let him know who your pussy belonged to. He fucking loved it.
Wait. The realization hits you both at the same time. He isn’t wearing a condom. As he looks into your eyes, his face falls and your eyes widen. He never once fucked you without a condom on. It was part of his whole no-long-term-commitment thing. He didn’t want to risk an unintentional pregnancy, so he never let himself fuck you raw. When he starts to pull out, you’re quick to wrap your legs around him and lock him in place.
“Don’t.” You plead. You want this. You’ve always wanted this. Bucky bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes, trying to find a single rational thought in his mind. He knows he shouldn’t do this, he knows he should pull out and find a fucking condom. But will he?
The answer is no. He uses what little space you give him between your legs to start thrusting into you again, slower this time, but still every bit as deep as before.
“If you don’t let me pull out…” He starts, but you pull his face down to yours and silence him with a kiss. After a few seconds, he picks up his pace and begins fucking you relentlessly once again, further ruining the paintjob on the bedroom wall behind the headboard.
“I always wanted you to fuck me like this.” You sigh against his lips. You feel Bucky’s entire body tense up as he nears his release, your words egging him on.
“Oh, baby, I always wanted to fuck you like this.” He admits, snapping his hips into yours and getting you that much closer to the edge. As your orgasm threatens to tear through you, something weighs heavy on Bucky’s mind. He wants to cum inside you. He loves you but he’s always told himself he can’t have you, because his future is so unclear, he can’t make promises to you and possibly break them. But…he’s a good guy. If he were to knock you up, he’d do the right thing. The traditional thing. He’d marry you and take such good care of you, of the little family you’d have together. Maybe that’s what he should do. He thinks that maybe if he gets you pregnant right now, it would force him to give you his future, no matter how much it scares him. He’d be so much more concerned with doing the right thing in the present, rather than worrying about what might happen in the future. “Let me cum inside you.”
“You can, Bucky. You can cum inside me.” You moan out, locking your ankles together behind him and pulling him harder against you. He groans and presses another kiss to your lips, but a gentler one this time.
“You’ll have a baby for me.” He doesn’t even phrase it as a question, no, he’s telling you what you’ll do. “You’ll let me get you pregnant, and then you’ll be mine.”
“Fuck…” The curse falls from your lips as bliss surges through you. You can’t even find the words to say what you want to say, which is fuck yes. So, you lay there submissively, with your legs wrapped around him as he fucks every drop of cum that he has into you. Then, you catch your breath while he pulls his cock out of you and slides your panties back over your sore cunt. You even let him pile the pillows beneath your hips and legs, elevating your pelvis to make sure his cum won’t drip back out of you.
Fuck. He really wants to make sure you’re pregnant after this.
TAG LIST (if your user has a line through it, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you):
@gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @twlkdead
#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#mcu#bucky barnes x you#marvel#bucky barnes#the winter soldier#winter soldier#12 days of smut
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Soft Astarion Jealousy
Now with part 2!
I love Ascended Astarion because he's horrible but the sweetness of the other end of the spectrum is impossible to deny. He's just so in love and grateful I can't 🥺🥺
So here's some jealousy that isn't psychotic. Well it is but not as bad:
Astarion never expected to be the jealous type. He always thought...well. In all honesty he never thought about the reality of having a relationship. He didn't even think it was possible for him, let alone the idea that he would actually want it. Even with you, even after he admitted a fraction of his own feelings to himself, he never thought that he would be so... possessive. Though admittedly, he had very good cause for it.
Because you were frustrating. So, so frustrating. For some idiotic reason, you simply didn't understand how alluring to others you really were. You were a pretty little thing, yes but that wasn't the problem. It was so much more than that. And he knew that the others wanted you. Every last one of them. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Halsin. All of them like moths to a flame. And that wasn't even counting all of the strangers you had met on your journey, the extras that thought they had a shot with your greatness. They all wanted you in ways that made Astarion seethe. And the desire from others wasn't even the kind that he was used to, the kind he understood like the back of his hand. Because you didn't need to seduce to cultivate desire. All you needed to stoke the flames was merely your presence. Experiencing you was all that was required for people to know they wanted more.
Astarion knew that the others weren't just looking for a bedmate, they wanted you for the same reasons he had grown to. Your empathy, your desire to understand those around you. Your fearlessness, your infuriating habit of always trying to do the right thing. They wanted you for your laugh, the way your eyes would crinkle in the corners when your smile was too wide. Your silly jokes, your endless hopefulness for a future. It felt as though everyone around saw you for the gem that you were and it was... concerning. Extremely concerning.
Astarion hated thinking about things like this. He loathed admitting the truth to himself even more. But he was...terrified of losing you to someone else. Especially since it could so easily be done. He was so very lucky that you weren't the brightest, or at least not when it came to matters of the heart. You could do so much better than him, a fact that was incredibly obvious to everyone around you. Everyone but you, a luck that Astarion did not take lightly. But how much time did he have before it ran out? Would it ever?
Perhaps it was delusional, but he was starting to think when all of this was over, assuming neither of you perished anyway, that...it could just be the two of you. Living together, exploring the world, even if it had to be under the cloak of night. Maybe... maybe the two of you could even find a cure for his unsavory condition. The thought itself was incredibly stupid, but then again, it was just as idiotic to believe that there was a cure to the Mind Flayer parasite. But here they were, closer then ever. And if that was such an impossibility turned into reality, perhaps a vampiric cure wasn't so impossible. Or maybe even finding an alternative method for immortality for you, without the downsides of his own. Anything that could just keep you both together, for as long as possible. It was an unrealistic dream, that would never come into fruition. If anything it was dangerous, so very dangerous to even entertain the thought of forever. Especially when your connection was so tenuous.
Astarion would never be stupid enough to thank Cazador for anything but...he'd be lying if he said he wasn't appreciative for his own lack of subtly when it came to seducing you. Even if it originally was for distasteful reasons, it still got him ahead of the pack. If he had been less calculating, less astute, there was a sincere chance that you would be warming someone else's bed at night. Callousness would never be without it's uses, even if it led to uncomfortable situations like his current infatuation.
What would he do when you inevitably wanted to leave? How could he survive after having something so...good. Someone so caring, someone who for some very horrifying reason liked being around him. And the sex... it was fabulous. He was a massive fan of your intimacy, when he was capable of participating in it. He adored it, he adored you, your beauty, the sweet noises he could coax from your mouth, the europhia of being inside of you. Then there was the fact that you could be intimate without any traces of it devolving into lovemaking. He had never been gifted with the ability to say no before, so often and so freely without a single fear of punishment. If anything, it felt like he was rewarded when he was honest with you, when he would share his sudden fits of discomfort in his own body, the memories that plagued him and doomed him to staying stubbornly soft. You would never get angry, never even disappointed. You would just listen and smile, always adorable when you would ask, "But I can stay for a cuddle, can't I?"
An extremely silly question, considering the two of you hadn't spent a night apart from each other since you'd made it to the Shadowlands. Yet it never failed to make him melt.
It was getting worse, these feelings. He just wanted you around, by his side, constantly. Constant enough for him to get the ridiculous urge to hiss at anyone else who dared to come near you. He felt an intense need to protect the closeness the both of you had cultivated, the kind that he had never been allowed before. He had no interest in sharing you with your own friends when it came down to it, let alone another lover.
Which is precisely why his original, mild distaste for Halsin turned into a full-blown hatred the night he had the gall to proposition you.
It had felt like a shard of ice going through his chest when you bounded over to him, laughing about one of his greatest fears coming much too close to reality, "You won't believe the conversation Halsin and I just had-"
"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about that," Astarion laughed, purposefully interrupting you. He had no desire to hear the specifics of that conversation. He didn't even want to be having this conversation, where you were inevitably going to ask if it was okay to explore someone else.
The answer was no. Never would he be okay with it, allowing someone else to be close to what should have been his. But he needed to think strategically here. To say no could be disasterous. If it became a game of choice between him and Halsin... he's almost certain he would lose. Halsin was everything he wasn't; caring, giving, sharing in your worldviews in a way that Astarion never could. He couldn't risk it, he wouldn't. Having you at all was better than nothing.
"But I'd never even consider something like that-"
"It's fine," Astarion interrupts again, the fakest smile he can muster plastered on his face. The pain was worth the risk mitigation, he was sure of that. But... he still had to ask, "But is this because we haven't...y'know, in awhile?"
A sick part of him prays that you'll say yes. Because if that's the reason, he could do something about it. He could force himself if need be to always tend to your needs. Especially if it meant keeping you to himself. It was such a small sacrifice in comparison to the rest of his life. He would do it in a heartbeat if you demanded, anything to just make you stay.
But that was not the answer he received. Instead you frowned, looking him up and down, "What? No, I-Astarion no. Please don't think that. What we have together is so special to me. The physical part of it is lovely, perfect even. But...it's not what we are."
It's almost comforting to hear you say that. But then why did that make the situation feel so much worse? If it wasn't sex you were after then that certainly meant you wanted more with Halsin as well, did it not? But it was too late to rescind it now.
Astarion nodded, a confused mixture of hurt and gratefulness swirling through him, "I just needed to know. But if you're satisfied with me and just want to explore, go right ahead. I'll be here when you're done."
You nodded slowly, brow furrowed when you asked, "So...we aren't exclusive then?"
"No, of course not," Astarion confirmed, ignoring everything inside of him that was screaming for him to take it all back, "We can be as open as you'd like."
"I see..." You said, trailing off with a frown. You coughed into your hand, looking up at him sharply. Sharp enough for him to be sincerely confused, "Does this mean that you'll be speaking to me before you explore your other options?"
"I-yes? If you want?" Astarion answered, a new type of unease settling in his chest. You didn't seem very happy with this conversation, despite his best attempts to give you what you wanted. Where had he gone wrong? Was he already working to throw you into the arm's of another man, without even trying?
You were still frowning at him, your look cold in a way that made him feel particularly ill, "Please do. I'd like to know everything. I'm going to speak to Halsin, get this all sorted. We can talk later."
And then you were spinning on your heel and marching away, like Astarion was the offensive party here. It made no sense. He had done it all right, hadn't he? Agreed to it immediately, didn't make you feel guilty, had tried to be what you wanted. How had he failed?
He didn't wait around to see you go to Halsin. Instead he went straight back to his tent, closing the flap as he laid down. Great. Fantastic. Now he would have to be aware, perhaps even hear you being with another, while simultaneously reliving that horrid conversation in his head for the entire night. The hurt and worry was making his mind wander to uncomfortable places. Perhaps...Halsin could be dealt with in another way if things became too serious between the two of you.
Would poisoning the man be too extreme?
But before Astarion had the time to start thinking of a more detailed plan he was interrupted. Suddnely, moonlight was filling his tent, with your silleoute shining in the darkness.
He blinked up at you, confused, "What are you doing here?"
You frowned at him, looking hesitant in the entry way, "Should I not be? I thought-I can go if you'd like."
"No!" Astarion blurted out, loud and desperate enough to make him cringe. He cleared his throat, trying again, his voice still a touch too pitiful for his liking, "No, no, come here darling. Of course you're always welcome. I just assumed you would be busy."
To his relief you listened, crawling into the bedroll next to him. Astarion didn't waste any time in wrapping his arms around you, relieved to humiliating degrees that you had chosen to come back after the deed. Though...you didn't quite smell as he had thought you would. There were no traces of the floral, woodsy smell of the druid on your skin. Just the sweet, pleasant scent that he had grown so fond of.
You sighed as he tucked you against him, the warmth of you enough to make him relax for the first time that night. You laid together in a pleasant quiet, one that Astarion was actually scared to disturb. Despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what happened between the two of you.
But you broke the silence for him, muttering into his chest after the two of you were settled, "I'm...sorry for being snappish earlier. I shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong, and I know I don't own you. I shouldn't have assumed."
Astarion frowned, pulling back to get a proper look at your face. You looked hurt, sad even. Like you were the one who had gotten their heart broken. He could feel a curl of distaste settling in his stomach, annoyed that this felt as though the situation was being placed back to him. He had played his part, perfectly. What more could you ask for? What was there to assume?
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Astarion carefully said, his eyes fixed on every micro expression on your face, "What did I do that could have been construed as incorrect?"
"Nothing!" You rushed to say, shame coloring your cheeks, "I was being stupid. You never promised me anything. I just...assumed. Wrongly that we were something we aren't."
That didn't-he-what? Astarion frowned at her, his confusion evident on his face, "What did you think we were?"
You looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze when you answered, "I thought that we were...together. Alone. Just us. But if that's not what you want I understand. It's fine-"
"What in the hells are you talking about?" Astarion blurted out, his anger and pain bubbling to the surface, "I haven't done a thing. And we were just us before you decided to galivant off with a bear of a man!"
He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. So much for playing things safely. No, he couldn't even have the self-control to stay quiet. He always had to ruin everything.
But surprisingly, you didn't look angry. If anything you seemed just as confused as he felt, "What? I didn't-we didn't do anything! When did I say I wanted to do anything with Halsin? You were the one saying you didn't care!"
You weren't making any damn sense, "Well why else would you ask me about it?"
"I didn't!" You huffed, glaring at him, "All I was going to say was that he asked me. And I wanted your help on how to best turn him down! And then you jumped at the chance to push me onto someone else-"
"I did nothing of the sort!" Astarion seethed back, "If it was up to me you would never look at another man again! Or woman for that matter!"
It was an odd feeling, to be arguing while holding each other so closely. But Astarion had no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if he could feel you squirming against his ironclad grip when you fumed at him, "Then why would you say it was okay?!"
"Because I don't want you to leave me!" He shouted back, loud enough to snap him out of his own anger. All of his fury was instantly replaced with fear. Gods, why had he felt the need to say that? To lay his biggest insecurity out on the line. Why not just hand you a stake while he was at it, since he was so eager to give you the tools to destroy him.
But you were still seething, hissing back at him, "Why praytell, would I leave the man I've been in love with for months? Hm? Please, explain it to me!"
Astarion couldn't. He was too busy being shell-shocked at the confession, feeling too many emotions at once. Joy, relief, somehow even more fear than before. You so freely said the words that he had done his damndest to bury, to ignore. But now they were out there, filling him with a horrifying joy.
He wanted to say it back. He did. But he couldn't get the wrecthed words out. Instead he was just staring at you like an imbeicle, his mouth hanging opening at the confession.
But his silence didn't make you falter. Instead you looked determined, near fierce as you grasped his face into your warm hands, "I love you Astarion. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is about. But I want you. And only you. If you want the same of me then you must tell me. Now."
Astarion let his hands flutter over your wrists, humiliating tears prickling at his eyes. But at least his vocal chords allowed him to answer you this time, "I do. So much more than you know. I want us. Just us. No one else."
The words were flowing out of him, too fast and sincere for him to make the appropriate edits in his head. He was saying too much, feeling too much, giving too much. But the way your eyes brightened at his words, the way you grinned at him before pulling him in for a sweet kiss made it suddenly feel like he wasn't giving anything up at all.
As much as he loathed to admit it, Astarion was exceedingly grateful for Halsin's existence after that night. He would never have had the gall to demand you to himself without a trigger, without the anger you both shared at being misunderstood. Because now, you were his. His alone, the proclamation coming from your own lips. And he was free to stop hiding how much he had wanted it. How willing he was to do anything to keep it. He let himself off his own leash after that, leaning completely into the mutual ownership you had of each other. No more would he silently sit back and seethe as a stranger flirted with you. No, now he'd be upfront and center, with a possessive hand around your waist as he glared them down, more than prepared with a confidence-shattering quip on his tongue.
He started to let all of his urges seep through, taking full advantage of your willingness. If Wyll looked at you for too long at the fire, with a touch of something that Astarion didn't like in his eyes, he'd effortlessly pull you into his lap onlookers be damned as breathed you in. If Gale suddenly had a suspect offer to teach you some new magic in a secluded location, Astarion would invite himself, impervious to any glares sent his way. And when he felt as though all of them were being a bit too flirtaious, he was more than happy to put them in their places at night. Spending hours upon hours making you scream his name in bed from pleasure, loud enough for everyone to hear and know exactly who you belonged to.
He couldn't care less if it added to his own unpopularity amongst their merry-band of rejects. Their opinions didn't matter. Not when you were eating all of the sudden attention up.
You let him do it all because you understood him, in ways that no one else had bothered to before. You knew who he was, what he wanted, the extent to how much he craved your attention. And you let it all happened, reveled in it even. The intense shows of affection. Because you loved him. And he loved you. And one of these days he'd allow himself to admit the obvious.
But for now, he had what he wanted. What he needed. And in the first time in his life, even with disgusting tadpoles squirming his his brain, Astarion was actually...happy.
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion fic#long fic#you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands#may add a dirty part two here#dirty sweet
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NSFW /// KNY characters who I think cum particularly hard/ a lot. This could have a part two, I'm eepy, srry.
CW/ Non specific gendered/genitalia reader / Cum... like an insane amount of cum / BDSM Dynamic (ENMU)/ Light Gore (ENMU)/ tbh, Enmu. / Cum-swapping (AKAZA)
Sanemi Shinazugawa
-Cums hards AND a lot.
-Sanemi isn't quite sure why is body is the way it is, maybe it's his breath control mixed with the insane amount of testosterone and panic pumping through his veins on the daily, but Sanemi doesn't struggle to get it up.
-he struggles to stay flaccid. He's far more likely to be hard at any given moment. Not that he's excited, his dick is just permanently stuck at half mast. It takes an insane, highly emotional amount to get him entirely flaccid.
-I think Sanemi's orgasm absolutely shreds him everytime, unanimously. Does that stop him from getting it up in another ten minutes? Absolutely not. I just truly think he's a medical anomaly.
-He cums prematurely, but what does it matter? It literally didn't go down, he's still fucking going, now he's just like, in tears about it.
-I think Sanemi's eyes get really wide and he gets lock jaw, and he seethes and he tries to hold back any noise, but it just shreds the poor guys throat, and now he's sore, and it hurts him to moan, but he just can't help it, you feel so fucking good- and all for him? It's all for him?
-Shakes. Sobs. Sounds incredibly desperate, don't let the facade fool you. If he loves you, he's a crier.
-Also physically cums a lot. Not just by how many orgasms, but by how much each time is. I think he's got an obnoxiously low set of balls. He's made to breed, the poor bastard. If he can't let go in you, both of you are covered in it by the end of the night.
-Sanemi has yet to tap out before you.
Kyōjurō Rengoku
-Cums a lot.
-Rengoku has good stamina, but once he cums, he's done for, no more. He can keep going if he really wants to, or if you look like you really need him, but chances are the first round wad more than enough.
-vocal, but in a fatherly way. Sex with Rengoku is probably very... comfortable.
-Until he cums and now you're sticky from your chest to your upper thigh. The range of his shot is insane. He cums buckets, and he barely blinks. His breathing gets a little ragged, and his chest a little shakey, but that's it.
-He needs to go night night after, though. Feeling any amount of joy that doesn't come from stuffing his face does a number on him emotionally and physically. He needs a cuddle and a conversation about... idk, taxes after.
-Won't beg to cum in you, but really, really wants to.
-He always pulls out like a gentleman (if you can be much of a gentleman when you're balls deep), but you can always tell that he wants to see your face so bad when he pumps you full.
-Will not ask. That'd be rude.
-Talks you through your orgasm, but that's another post for another day.
Enmu
-Fuck, I just know he's a screamer. He cums so hard.
-This guy's a fucking mess, but it takes work.
-Enmu is such a good submissive that you're always shocked when he decides to mouth off to you, or when he forgets a command. Not too shocked, though. It's very clearly intentional. It always is.
-He gives himself a bit in between each 'screw up' to make sure he's edged himself mentally properly (very hard, he's almost always some kind of aroused, and he's prone to cumming untouched, so that build up is a little diificult.)
-While he doesn't struggle to ask for things, and his dignity is subzero, Enmu still appreciates a stray chase here and there. After all, it's the only thing mentally stimulating enough for him to cum.
-In any normal dynamic with Enmu, he isn't often left using his dick. So when you've got a spear through his wrists, locking them behind his back, one hand pulling his hair, the other jerking his cock with thoughtless speed-
-Enmu can never cum harder than when he's recieving borderline abuse. His dick looks irritated, going untouched for months previous, and now it's receiving all this attention. Can you blame him for being this loud?
-His legs shake, his whole body recoils. He drools and screams- laughs and wails. He cries with the brightest smile you've ever seen. His hips buck up. You're not being gentle, and he's so, so happy. The orgasm is ripping through every nerve in his body.
-He feels like he's in the sun again.
-He's hoping Muzan can see him look so pathetic. You're just hoping the demon lord stays out of your man's head.
Akaza
-cums like a horse.
-a lover, truly. That's the only word encompassing enough to describe Akaza's efforts sexually. He's a fantastic lover.
-... who can go for hours... days even and never get tired. Every orgasm blows off his shoulders- It's all about you. It always has been, it always will be.
-You've made him cum hard before, it's a rarity, but it's possible... Its just nothing feels as good to him as watching you cum, so he'll do whatever must be done-
-and if that means pumping you full again and again, until you're leaking from every accessible orifice, so be it.
-He'll lick your hole clean, reveling in the way you twitch after your.... you lost count after the fifth one. That won't stop him from tongue fucking you.
-His cum tastes... shockingly good. You like to give him head, and then come up to give him a kiss. He'll pull your tongue down, wanting to see it in your mouth just before you swallow. You always look so proud of yourself. He can't help but reward you with a kiss before you even get it down.
-there's way to much for one swallow. You can barely manage to keep all of it in your mouth while showing him. Your effort is precious, though.
-Akaza looks really good with cum on his lips. It's one of the only times you see him really flustered.
#sanemi x you#sanemi x y/n#demon slayer x reader#sanemi smut#sanemi x reader#demon slayer smut#hashira x reader#rengoku smut#enmu x reader#enmu x y/n#enmu x you#enmu smut#akaza x reader#akaza smut#akaza x y/n#rengoku x reader#rengoku x y/n#kny x reader#kny smut
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Who We Are
pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller
description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.
word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.
warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.
author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!
“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors.
You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses.
“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age.
Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.
“Well good, keeps you busy.”
You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.
Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare.
You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes.
Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice.
“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”
His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself. You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response.
“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily.
You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed.
When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained.
“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm.
“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.
“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”
Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”
Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”
Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds.
So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long.
You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired.
You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually.
Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink.
“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door.
You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man.
-
You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one.
When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.
But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough.
“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”
He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”
You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms.
“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head.
“Just weak.”
Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older.
When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief.
“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”
She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”
“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly.
Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment.
She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed.
“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods.
“Always is, kiddo.”
-
The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some.
It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics.
But for now, you should get some rest.
Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts.
You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have.
You need to remind the council of all your father does.
You need him to get better.
You need him.
-
“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce.
You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”
Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer.
“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”
“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”
“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”
Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death.
“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”
Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family.
“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”
You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?”
You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either.
“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”
“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms.
“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”
“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side.
Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”
Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital.
You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller.
He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”
Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”
He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him.
It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.
“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.
He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”
You didn’t even think that far.
“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”
You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face.
“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question.
“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”
“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”
-
Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more.
As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime.
He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands.
You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time.
Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile.
“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”
“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”
You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.
“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”
It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”
His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you.
“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”
“Roger that, kiddo.”
-
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls.
He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse.
“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”
Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun.
Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.
You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company.
Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson.
“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”
He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt.
“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”
-
“How is Ellie doing?”
You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage.
He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”
You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot.
“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”
Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him.
“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”
You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were.
“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”
He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”
You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits.
Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy.
“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”
But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself.
The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in.
You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice.
“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit.
Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”
That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious.
He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes.
“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud.
He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”
You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now.
“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”
You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish.
“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”
You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”
-
You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake.
“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.
“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse.
He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward.
You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof.
“Is this yours?”
He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”
You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you.
You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings.
That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it.
“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”
How could you ever say no to an offer like that?
You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”
-
Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.
He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away.
When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view.
“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”
He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”
You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure.
“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”
You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time.
“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”
He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you.
You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”
He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that.
“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”
You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face.
He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable.
“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”
You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”
-
You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours.
“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire.
“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”
You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”
You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it.
You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually.
Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man.
Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls.
After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember.
He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing.
You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there.
He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly.
It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you.
-
The second day starts off a bit rough.
When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.
You are panting like you just ran a mile.
“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”
“You were sleeping!”
“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked.
You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”
He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”
After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller.
You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life.
When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind.
-
When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia.
“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say.
You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you.
He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly.
“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him.
“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”
“I cannot wait.”
The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame.
“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”
He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket.
-
He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day.
He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds.
He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?
He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.
“You okay, Joel?”
You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city.
“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”
You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep.
You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him.
You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion.
Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him.
“Can I help you?”
You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”
He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”
“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”
You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses.
Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night.
“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”
-
The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances.
Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much.
“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”
“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now.
“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”
You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”
“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”
You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”
He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.
He wanted to keep looking.
“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind.
You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy.
“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”
Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard.
“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”
You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”
-
You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit.
You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask.
“When was the last time you were here?”
He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions.
“Over a year ago.”
You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”
You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.
“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?
It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew.
You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”
“Who?”
“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense.
“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital.
You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you.
You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town.
You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him.
Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward.
“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up.
You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”
“What do ya’ mean?”
You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same.
“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”
He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”
The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him.
“Right, of course.”
-
When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run.
You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding.
To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side.
You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety.
“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”
You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack.
“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back.
You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read.
levofloxacin
amoxicillin
“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”
He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”
You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through.
You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”
“Yeah, right behind you.”
Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie.
You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything.
Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it.
It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials.
You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room.
“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”
You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it.
“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”
Then you hear it.
Click. Click. Click.
Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him.
Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern.
You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body.
She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire.
You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came.
You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City.
“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum.
You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing.
You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step.
“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”
You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods.
When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body.
“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”
You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip.
He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you.
“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you.
“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully.
“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”
He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”
“Why not?”
Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything.
Right?
“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”
You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”
-
It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat.
When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind.
You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire.
You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel.
When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you.
“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice.
“You all clean?”
You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”
He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”
“Use mine.”
Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”
“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”
He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”
You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body.
“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”
He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”
Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in.
He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”
-
Joel can not do this.
You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?
You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked.
Why were you doing this to yourself?
Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”
He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again.
“We can’t.”
You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”
You two know better. You know better. You know better.
You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better.
It’s almost like you two silently made the decision.
“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him.
Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”
His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel.
He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame.
“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this.
“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”
He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”
It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation.
But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window.
This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste.
He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”
You can’t help but giggle a bit.
“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”
It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.
“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”
He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted.
As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away.
“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap.
“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”
He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment.
“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”
You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want.
You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth.
When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big.
“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas.
Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips.
“Joel, what are you doing?”
You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”
Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out.
You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.
Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does.
When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows.
“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him.
When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair.
“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance.
“Joel, please.”
He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”
You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious.
“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears.
“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”
When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him.
“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more.
You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach.
“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”
Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.
“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”
The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive.
As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.
The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm.
“Yes, Joel!”
His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over.
The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach.
“Shit.”
You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky.
“I came inside you.”
You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”
He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that.
Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess.
You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button.
Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess.
“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air.
“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”
You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin.
-
When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you.
You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open.
Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors.
“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”
All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”
“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”
You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you.
“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”
He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you.
“Yeah, we are all set.”
Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him.
He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend.
“We have to get home,” Is all he says.
And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again.
-
You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself.
Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky.
The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest.
You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home.
“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”
He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you.
“What do you mean?”
You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks.
“Tell them what?”
He has to be messing, right? You think.
But no, he’s deadly serious.
“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together.
“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”
If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”
“No, it’s not like that-”
“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”
-
When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life.
You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already.
The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father.
A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive.
When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week.
“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”
You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter.
“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”
You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel.
“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid.
You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit.
Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables.
As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you.
-
Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked.
“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”
“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”
“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”
“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”
“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”
He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it.
“You won’t what, Joel?”
He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud.
“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”
Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about.
“What?”
“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?”
Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then.
“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”
Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”
“Joel-”
“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”
-
Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal.
You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home.
For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong.
You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door.
“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”
She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”
Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”
Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly.
“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it.
Joel stands there, your bags in his hands.
You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially.
“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”
“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”
Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up.
You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left.
“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle.
It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom.
He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all.
“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys.
The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray.
“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”
You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one.
“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”
“Baby-”
“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?���
Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions.
“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”
He can’t let you make this mistake.
But you’re not easing up.
“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want.
“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”
You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you.
Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you.
You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him.
“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”
You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy.
“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”
Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips.
You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.
“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips.
When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”
The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice.
“Yeah?”
You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door.
“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”
Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question.
“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”
“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit.
The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby.
Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him.
“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages.
“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”
“Dad-“
“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”
You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air.
“Sorry?”
Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought.
Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”
“Dad, he’s not dum-“
“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”
You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets.
You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?
Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him.
He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads.
“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“
“I’m a dead man.”
Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly.
“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”
You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”
Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face.
You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this.
And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for.
“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief.
You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles.
“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.
You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.
THE END
or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:
No One Fucks With My Baby
#joel miller fic#joel miller#joel x reader#joel miller x fem reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#joel miller the last of us#joel miller tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfic#joel last of us smut#joel miller x reader#the last of us#post outbreak joel#dbf joel#dbf joel miller#gracieheartspedro#fic: who we are
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two men who just wanted to please you, ( and each other). two men who was at your beck and call, two men who loved to you make you cum.
onyankopon and connie.
“spread them a little bit more ma’ma” you were dizzy, so incredibly dizzy. your cunt was sensitive, connie avid sucking on your clit then releasing it was a strong pop; all to turn around and fuck his tounge into your slimy wet hole. his eyes were glassy staring up at you, you couldn’t hunch your cunt into his face and that made him sad, but don’t worry; ony saved the day! he could see his two lovers were too in their heads to do anything, so grabbing connie’s neck he moved his face in your pussy.
he saw how his tounge licked and sucked at any crevice, nose bumping against your red clit while your jucies got all over his face. the vibration from his moans and incoherent banter sent shock waves thorougout your body. “n-no’more!” you whined, pussy clenching and unclenching, more essence falling out of you for connie to slurp up like a brainless man. he couldn’t hear what you were saying, just loving the feeling of gulping down your flavors, his tounge heavily satisfied. as for ony, he made you a deal. “one more baby, then i’ll move him. just give him one more,” you were greatful how his voice set that one last orgasm off. or maybe it was the good grills, or how connie rocked his cock in the silk bedsheet your cum practically making him feral.
“o-ohgodddd” your body shaking like a leaf in autumn, nails digging into the soft fabric ripping though it, while you saw stars. connie continued to eat at you; lick and suck, even a small grazing of his teeth until he was pulled back, a harsh whine leaving his lips while you let out shaky breaths closing your legs to stop the ache. your two boyfriends now stood in front of you, connie pressed against onyankopon’s back while he slowly pulled down his sweats to let his cock shoot out, standing tall and red, tip leaking so much cum. ony kissed connie’s neck licking over the hickies that you had left previously.
his hands slowly wrapped around the other man, gold rings causing him shiver, due to the coolness they brought to his hot body- then how tight his hand was around his cock. “she’s so pretty, yea?” ony whispered his words, slowly working his hand on the man’s cock, he could feel connie start to rock into him, staring at you like you were a meal. eyes low while his lip was between his teeth. “i said yea” ony repeated himself, more stern.
“y-yes fuck! g-gonna give her m’baby” connie’s eyes shut momentarily, pre cum falling down making a mess on his loves hand, his abs flexing at how close he was. he could hear ony say more things but he was too gone to understand. his ears were ringing, your taste on his tounge making him repeatedly swallow to just taste it one more time. the vision of how pretty you looked while he ate you flashing in his hazed state. then - visions of ony making you take his full length while you cried how it was too much. before he knew it, connie’s head fell forward, “ah’s” passing his lips while his cum shot out all over you. “fuck” onyankopon laughed to himself at the mess his boyfriend had just made but also how your scooped some up and ate it moaning around your finger.
#— writings!#ony x reader#ony x black reader#ony smut#onyankopon x chubby reader#onyankopon x black y/n#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon smut#onyankopon x black reader#connie springer x chubby reader#connie springer x black reader#connie springer x reader#connie springer smut#aot x chubby reader#aot x black reader#aot x reader#aot smut#attack on titan x black reader#attack on titan x reader#attack on titan smut#anime x chubby reader#anime smut#anime x black!reader
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dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'?
charles leclerc and oscar piastri x fem!reader
how about a reward for monaco's p1 and p2?
warnings/notes: smut, threesome, a blowjob, slight degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up, people!!!), cumshot, creampie, gagging, light choking
a/n: very ambitious and would not set me free until i wrote it...so please enjoy <3
.
You really had no idea how you ended up here.
Arthur is a good friend of yours, having met him when you first came to work for Ferrari under the communication department, mostly being assigned to handle the Academy and development drivers' communication needs. You and Arthur got on well, and eventually, you were hanging out with him and his other friends on the weekends.
The two of you were strictly friendly, something you've had to clear out multiple times to work superiors, nosy colleagues, insistent reporters, you name it.
Arthur isn't your type, point blank, period.
His older brother was a different topic altogether.
Charles was sensitive, artistic, a prince charming in all aspects. Being in close proximity to Arthur meant you spent some time with Charles, too, but those were few and far between and every time you were within five feet of Charles, you were reduced to a tongue-tied mess.
Regardless, Arthur insisted you come along to the celebrations after Charles' most recent win in Monaco.
"Charles knows who you are and you're my friend. He won't mind," Arthur pleaded earlier that day as you were packing up after the podium celebrations.
"What if you go running off and I'm left alone?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I won't go running off," Arthur promised. "I'll be with you the whole night. I'll even help you look for a guy you can go home with!"
And yet you're here in the present, sitting on a couch in the VIP section, alone.
Well, not really. You're surrounded by people but none of them are talking to you. Arthur had gone to get more drinks half an hour ago and you know by now that he probably was sidetracked by other friends or something to that effect.
You have half a mind to call it a night, your hand already reaching for your purse, when you hear a voice call out.
"________! You're here!"
You look up and your heart seems to jump right into your throat.
Charles is beaming down at you, a flag of Monaco draped around his shoulders, his previously styled hair now sticking up in all directions.
You caught a glimpse of Charles earlier when you arrived with Arthur, but the race winner was too busy doing shots for you to have properly said hi.
But he's here now. And he's sliding into the space beside you.
"Where's Arthur?" Charles asks, reaching for an unopened Heineken on the table in front of you.
"I have no idea," you half-yell, leaning closer so Charles could hear. You feel goosebumps erupt on your skin when Charles lays a tentative hand on your back.
"You can spend time with me, then," Charles grins, moving his arm further so it fully wraps around your shoulders.
A nervous laugh escapes you but your instinct is to lean even further into Charles' touch. He's still smiling at you, though clearly inebriated with the way his eyes seem out of focus.
"Ah, Oscar!"
You turn your head to see the other third of the podium finishers, Osar Piastri himself.
"Hey!" he calls over the din of the music. "I can't find anyone! I think they just abandoned me," Oscar adds, laughing.
He takes the seat on your left, effectively sandwiching you between him and Charles. You smile politely at Oscar, reaching your hand out.
"Hi, I'm ______," you say, smiling wider as Oscar takes your hand in his and squeezes.
"I'm Oscar," he says then pauses, realizing that you probably already knew who he was if you were any friend of Charles'. He laughs, practically giggles, hiding his face in his hand.
"Sorry, I see you around the paddock sometimes, so I probably didn't need to do that," Oscar explains, cheeks turning pink, or at least you think they do, given that the lighting in this club is atrocious.
Oscar is still holding your hand and you can tell that he's tipsy too by the way he's smiling, eyes hooded and sleepy-looking.
"________ is part of communications in Ferrari," Charles explains, rubbing his thumb over the exposed skin of your shoulder. You turn to look at Charles, and the way he gazes back at you, a half smile on his lips, breath hot on your cheek, has your heart pounding incessantly against your chest.
"She's very efficient," Charles praises with a chuckle. "I like seeing her around when she works."
You make a move to swat at Charles' thigh as if to tell him off. "Stop it, I'm not at enough races for you to see me that often."
You're laughing, mostly in disbelief at the words that just came out of Charles' mouth. He likes seeing you around?
Charles shrugs. "But when you are, I notice."
You feel your neck heat up and even more so when Charles maneuvers you closer, seemingly protective. If you moved any more, you'd be on Charles' lap.
Oscar eyes the two of you and you'd give anything to read the thoughts in his head right now. The younger man locks eyes with you and smiles, sweetly at first, but then his pupils glance down briefly at your chest, barely covered by the tube top you decided to don for the evening.
The sweetness quickly melts away as Oscar bites his lip.
"You're close, then?" Oscar asks casually, scooting closer to you and Charles.
"Arthur and her are good friends," Charles points out.
"So I guess by default, _______ and I are good friends, too."
You laugh and Oscar is grinning once more at you, and god does he look handsome under these lights. You can tell that he wants to come even closer, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. Some slow song is playing over the speakers, bass loaded and making the entire place vibrate.
You reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's thigh, squeezing just enough to get the point across.
Oscar looks over at Charles and you follow his line of sight, seeing some sort of unspoken agreement cross the two drivers.
Charles dips his head, moving even closer to you. He breathes out right next to your ear and you shiver.
"Ma chèrie," he begins. "I think we need to take this somewhere else."
You turn to look at Charles, blood roaring in your ears. "What?"
Charles looks straight into your eyes as if searching for something. He rubs a soothing hand down your back, letting it settle on your waist.
"You want to, no?" Charles asks, momentarily glancing up at Oscar. "With me and him?"
You feel a rush of excitement course through you. Surely, this isn't happening. The idea of Charles bringing you home crossed your mind briefly the moment he touched you earlier, but that's as far as you allowed yourself to imagine. But the remnants of alcohol in your system and the intoxicating atmosphere of the club must have gotten to you with the way you so brazenly made a move on Oscar.
And now you reap what you sow.
"We can hang out at my place," Oscar throws out nonchalantly as if he was simply inviting you and Charles to more drinks at his apartment.
"I just moved in and it could use a little...housewarming," Oscar adds with a pointed look.
Charles bursts out laughing, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling into the side of your neck. You glance around, hyperaware that all eyes have been on Charles the whole night, and for sure it isn't any different now.
"Andiamo," Charles whispers. "We'll make it good."
Let's go. Your months of Italian as a prerequisite to working in Ferrari barely register with you now.
Oscar slips his own hand over your thigh, his large palm covering an expanse of your skin.
"You'll love the view from my balcony," Oscar offers, tilting his head towards you. He smiles, innocent and sweet once more, simultaneously squeezing at the flesh of your thigh.
You bite your lip, suppressing whatever sounds that threatened to come out.
-
You thought you'd never make it out of the car ride to Oscar's place.
Oscar had brought his own ride and being much, much more sober than both you and Charles, he took the initiative to drive. You and Charles piled into the backseat, giggling.
"Not fair, you guys," Oscar teased from the front, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. Charles merely snickers, hands sneaking up over your chest as you settle on his lap.
"Eyes on the road, Oscar," Charles ordered, yanking your top down, exposing yourself fully to Oscar. You gasped, the cold air of the air-conditioning lending to the stiffening of your nipples. Charles began to toy with them, pinching and rolling them between his fingers, reducing you to a speechless mess. You noticed just how hard Oscar was gripping the steering wheel, tight enough that his knuckles were drained of color.
You barely had time to cover yourself back up once you got to Oscar's place, with Charles tugging you out of the car as soon as Oscar killed the ignition. The younger of the two comes around to your side of the car as you and Charles stumble out. Oscar takes your hand in his and leans down briefly to kiss you, tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your lips.
Oscar pulls away, sending Charles a look. "I was on the podium, too, mate."
"Ah, sorry Oscar," Charles says lightheartedly. "Sharing isn't really my strong suit. But for her, I will try."
Charles lands a smack on your ass, the sound loud enough to make you flinch. You involuntarily whine at the sting, tripping over your feet a bit. Oscar steadies you, laughing along with Charles.
"We're gonna have so much fun with you, chèrie," Charles teases, kissing your cheek.
The elevator ride is even worse. Or better. You can't decide.
It's just the three of you, and you're backed up into the corner, Charles being the handsier of the two, creeping both hands up your sides, his knee pushing between your legs.
"Ch-Charles, not here," you manage to warn. He increases the pressure against your core, grinning as he watches you shiver.
Oscar watches from the side, arms crossed, leaning casually against the elevator wall. You meet his gaze and he winks, smiling languidly just as Charles kisses down the side of your neck.
Soon enough, the elevator doors open and you push Charles away, startled to see a pair of middle-aged women waiting on the other side. You hurry past them out into the hallway, following Oscar who saunters down towards the end with an easy step.
"Right here," Oscar declares, unlocking a door at the very end. Charles guides you inside just as Oscar turns the light on.
The living room is spacious, with a single couch and coffee table occupying it. A deep blue rug breaks the cream flooring. Past the receiving area is the dining and kitchen, set against floor-to-ceiling windows, a staple of Monegasque apartments, as you've come to figure out. A hallway veers to the right.
"You weren't kidding about the view," you comment, taking in the night sky and the sprawling harbor.
Oscar turns back to you, and only now do you get a good look at him. The first three buttons of his shirt undone, his hair the right kind of messy, and his eyes, darker than what you're used to.
"The view in here is just as good," Oscar replies, eyes raking over your body. He reaches out, a hand resting on your waist.
"May I?" Charles whispers from behind you, tugging down the zip of your skirt. He gets it open and you let it fall to your feet, kicking it off to the side.
"So pretty," Charles adds, kissing along your upper back. Oscar hikes your top up and you let him pull it over your head, leaving you bare, save for your panties.
"I could see your tits through your shirt the whole night," Oscar comments, pointer fingers ghosting over your nipples. "Imagined what they might look like."
You gasp, leaning further back into Charles. You had no idea Oscar had that kind of mouth on him.
It turned you on to no end.
"Better than what you imagined?" You breathe out, Charles' fingers making their way over your mound, pressing over the wet spot on your underwear.
"Chèrie, you're so wet," Charles curses, rubbing you through the thin fabric. "Will you let me get a taste of you, hm?"
You nod frantically, already buckling under the lightest of touch from both men. You can only imagine how pathetic you look right now, stripped bare, with them still fully clothed.
"We should move this to the room," Oscar offers, delivering a final pinch to both of your nipples. You yelp as Oscar chuckles darkly, taking your hand in his.
It hasn't even fully started and you're already made to do the walk of shame.
Oscar's walls are still mostly bare but you feel exposed somehow, shivering despite the fairly warm temperature. He leads you and Charles to the door at the end of the hall, stepping inside while undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt.
You're met with large double doors on one side of the room, leading to, what you can only assume, is a large balcony.
"We can do it with a view, amour," Charles says, wrapping both arms around your waist.
Oscar shrugs his shirt off and you watch as his muscles flex beneath his skin, taut and defined.
"We sure can," Oscar agrees, flinging the doors to his balcony open. The cool night breeze blows past your face and you sigh, heart rate picking up even more.
Charles gently maneuvers you closer to the open doors and your hands start to clam up. Shit, are you really doing this?
"W-Wait," you mutter. "Won't anyone see?"
Oscar approaches you, pointer finger hooking into your underwear. He tugs at it harshly, yanking it halfway off.
"We don't have to do it outside if you don't want to," Oscar says, voice low. He looks at Charles. "Don't wanna get kicked out after I've just moved in."
Charles snickers. "The bed is right there. We'll leave the doors open and let them hear you, instead."
And it's true. The bed is directly in front of the balcony doors, moonlight spilling onto Oscar's navy blue sheets. Oscar grabs fully at your soiled panties now, ripping them clean off.
You gasp, but any shock is melted away when you see Oscar ball up the torn fabric in his hand, bringing it closer to your face. He raises his eyebrows as if questioning you.
"Yes? No?" He asks, tapping beneath your chin. It clicks a little late what Oscar is asking of you but you nod, parting your lips.
Oscar grins, pushing your panties into your mouth.
Fuck.
You hear the metal clang of a belt being unbuckled behind you, followed by the crinkle of fabric as Charles lets his pants and underwear pool around his ankles.
"You and I are going to have so much fun with her, no, Oscar?" Charles asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.
Oscar undoes the button of his pants as well. "Yes, we are."
"How do you want to do this, baby?" Charles addresses you, taking hold of your hips. "Tell us."
"And maybe if you're good, we'll give you what you want," Oscar adds, a hand sliding up your chest before resting around your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel Oscar test the waters, squeezing lightly.
"Oh, wait," Charles laughs condescendingly. "She can't talk."
There's a glint in Oscar's eyes as he adds pressure around your neck. "Guess we have to decide for her then."
You whimper, arms reaching out to wrap around Oscar's own neck. He smiles at you, almost warmly, but you can still see the bubbling desire in his irises.
"You can take the gag out any time you want," Oscar instructs softly, releasing your neck. You take in a big breath through your nose.
"And if you don't like anything we're doing, say 'Monte Carlo'," Oscar adds. He nods at Charles and you feel yourself being pulled backward.
"Get on the bed," Charles commands and you scramble to do so, crawling over the mattress before turning around and laying back on your elbows.
Charles and Oscar eye you intently and you're tempted to cover yourself, but with how they've been acting the whole night, you're not sure how that would be received.
"You wanna go first?" Oscar nudges Charles lightly. The Monegasque grins widely like a kid on Christmas.
"Oh, yes," Charles concedes, getting on the bed with you. He scoots down so his face is level with your cunt.
"Hold tight, my love," Charles says before licking a thick stripe up your core. Your whole body jerks and you cry around the gag in your mouth.
Charles continues to work on your dripping pussy, alternating between flicking against your clit and circling your hole. You moan and whine and whimper, eyes tearing up as you look pleadingly at Oscar.
"Look at you," Oscar laughs. "We've barely done anything."
Charles spreads your legs even wider, licking even deeper. You're fully crying now, the buildup proving too much as you feel your body shake at your approaching orgasm.
Oscar reaches over and toys with your boobs, brushing over your nipples just the way you like it. Without warning, Oscar dips his head down and takes one in his mouth, circling the nub with his own tongue.
The added sensation nearly drives you crazy. The pressure builds rapidly inside you and you're left incoherent as you beg without words.
Not yet, fuck, I can't cum that fast–
You twitch and involuntarily press your pussy harshly against Charles' mouth as you come undone, toes curling and body seizing up. Oscar pulls away and watches as you throw your head back, fingers twisting into the sheets.
"Already?" You hear Charles' voice through the ringing in your ears. "You must really want it."
You blink through your tears, momentarily confused as you see Oscar reach for your face. You cough as you feel the dry fabric being pulled out from your mouth. Oscar tosses your ruined underwear to the side.
"I think she deserves a reward for getting there so fast," Oscar suggests, turning to Charles.
"Which one do you want a taste of first? You get to pick, sweetheart," Oscar says, wiping a stray line of drool dripping down the side of your mouth.
"Ch-Charles," you croak, throat still dry.
Charles and Oscar share a curt nod and the former moves to the head of the bed.
"Hands and knees, my love," Charles orders and you follow, getting on all fours. He settles against the headboard, leaning back as you take his cock in your hand.
"Guess you want me here, then?" Oscar says from behind you. You turn to peek over your shoulder to see Oscar stroking languidly at his cock, one of his hands coming down to spread your ass apart.
"Fuck, this view," Oscar hisses, smacking your ass once.
"I reckon, you don't need me to prep you? I can just–"
You shriek as you feel Oscar push in without warning, and though it was a surprise, the obscene amount of arousal coming from your cunt aids in the stretch that Oscar's cock brings.
He fully sheathes himself inside and he groans, grabbing your hips with both hands.
"Chèrie." Charles' voice forces your attention back to him.
"Don't forget about me, hm?"
You try to compose yourself as best as you can as Oscar starts to fuck you at a relentless pace. You lower your mouth down to Charles' cock, wrapping your lips around the tip.
You take half of him in, coating him in your spit, going lower each time you come down. Charles is nearly as incoherent as you were earlier, curse words in three different languages falling from his lips.
You feel the tip of his cock reach the back of your throat and you stop, gagging around it. Charles threads his fingers through your hair, yanking you back up.
"Open your mouth," Charles says, tightening the grip on your hair.
You do as you're told and Charles angles himself better. He holds you in place as he fucks up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat each time. You will your breathing to slow, but the constant assault on your pussy muddles your brain and destroys your focus.
"She's so fucking tight," Oscar says through gritted teeth. You can feel his nails dig into your sides.
"Here as well," Charles agrees. "So warm and so wet."
All you can do is sob as you let the two of them use you, filled up on both sides, reduced to nothing but two holes.
"Fuck, I wanna cum on her face," Oscar says hurriedly, hips slowing down, probably in an attempt to keep his orgasm at bay.
Charles pulls you back off of him and he surveys you for a second.
"And I'll do it inside," Charles says. "Will you let me cum inside, chèrie?"
You nod, unconsciously clenching around Oscar. He curses, speeding up his movements again.
"Mate, I can't take it anymore," Oscar rushes, pulling out. You whine at the loss but Charles is quick to get off the bed, replacing Oscar's place behind you.
You feel the Charles' tip press against your hole and you plead, rocking back, desperate to be filled up.
"Charles, please, n-need your cum in me," you stutter. "Wanna be filled up, I need it, need you, please–"
Charles slides in one swift motion and your eyes roll all the way back in your head. He's thicker than Oscar and the stretch is almost painful but in the best way possible.
The older of the two wastes no time and starts pounding into you, rendering you speechless at how brutal his pace is. You're dizzy with arousal, spit and tears mixing on your chin and cheeks.
"Look here, sweetheart," comes Oscar's voice, rough around the edges, his hand cupping your chin.
He's stroking his cock at an impossible pace, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You look straight into his eyes as you stick your tongue out, waiting for him to release all over you.
"Fuck, you really are desperate for it," Oscar sneers, gripping harder at your face. "Open wide."
A warm spurt of liquid shoots straight onto your tongue, landing on your cheeks as well. You squint as it hits nearer to your eyes but you obediently lick up everything you can from your lips, swallowing Oscar's thick cum down.
"Oh god, baby," Charles warns. "Je vais bientôt jouir–"
Charles presses you closer to him, caging your hips against his own. He groans and you feel him twitch within you. You clench down as hard as you can around him, earning your hair a harsh tug from behind. Charles yanks you back against him as he gives a few more thrusts to ride his orgasm out.
"We are not done with you yet, amour," Charles warns.
Oscar's face comes into view and he's eyeing you up and down, his thumb swiping at a stain of himself on your cheek. He brings it to your lips and you lick his digit clean.
"Good girl," Oscar praises. "But he's right. You can give us a few more, right?"
You swallow.
You nod.
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knocked up too young and wearing a glittery diamond ring on your left hand, you had settled nicely into the role of mrs. cameron. it wasn’t tough, not a hard position to play in the slightest—rafe, or rather your husband—made everything nice and easy for you.
it seemed like it was his biggest desire come true, making sure you and his little girl were taken care of. he liked it actually, more than he admitted, knowing the two of you were fast asleep in bed when he left for work in the morning, doing nothing but relaxing throughout the day.
in fact, he had decided the second you had tearfully confessed that you were pregnant that this was the sort of life you were meant for, the kind of life he was going to give you. you were so scared, he can remember it like it was yesterday—your watery eyes and wet cheeks, the way your hands shook when you pulled out the test to show him.
“i-i-i’m so sorry, i, i thought the pills were enough, everyone says it’s enough-” you were stammering and crying your way into exhausation, something he definitely didn’t like.
“s’okay, kid. nothin’ to cry about.” he was formulating his plan already, being proactive in all matters, thinking ahead to marriage licenses and car seats while you stared down at the positive stick in your palm.
“you’re.. you’re not mad, rafe?” the way you look at him, the world stops spinning. why would he be mad?
“hey, s’done,” he says, hands on your shoulders to steady you, bringing you to the edge of the bed to take a seat. he takes the pregnancy test from your hands, looking down at it himself. “it already happened. can’t take it back. no point in cryin’ over it.”
when you look up with even more tears in your eyes, he’s half convinced he’s said the wrong thing—but it doesn’t faze him, he keeps going.
“hey, hey. what, you thought i wouldn’t take care of you? this is my kid too.”
“i know, i just, i thought you wouldn’t be okay.. with it. having it.” that’s the first and only time he got stern with you through this whole pregnancy.
“hey, don’t talk like that. this is our baby. there’s no question ‘bout havin’ it.” you nod up at him, tears drying as you steady yourself, regain a little composure knowing rafe’s not mad about this little accident. “y’okay now?” you nod again. “good, call your parents. tell ‘em we’re getting married soon.”
“wh-rafe!”
but, like how most things were with rafe, he called the shots and you listened. the two of you got married shortly after, before you were even showing. anyone who even attempted to comment on the hastiness of everything shut up the second rafe stared at them.
you’d be a liar to say you didn’t like it, a fool if you didn’t appreciate how rafe was to you.
he stepped up in every way, better than you could have even tried to put together in your imagination. a place was purchased and had slowly started to become home, with a crib that rafe assembled by himself—though it had taken hours and ended up with the instruction papers all crumbled up in a corner—and baby proofed cabinets and sockets. you laugh watching rafe try to install the baby gate on the staircase.
“you know that’s for when they start crawling, right?” you giggle, a hand on your very pregnant belly.
“shut up. m’being proactive. gonna have no time once she actually gets here and we’re runnin’ around changing diapers and makin’ formula and shit.”
you’re only a touch surprised with how well-versed he is with all the baby stuff, though you appreciate it more and more since you’re still a little confused and overwhelmed. he makes it all easy, from the pregnancy cravings he runs around to find for you to the pretty pink walls in the nursery. he even satisfies all your other cravings, like around month six when there was nothing you wanted more than rafe's dick in every position you could think of.
when his daughter actually comes into the world, the two of you are a mess of emotions and thoughts, but there’s only one rafe really cares about. when can he give you another one?
it doesn’t take long for him to start trying again—trying to convince you that the two of you can handle two, that little kids need siblings their age. the baby’s only six months old but he’s convinced it’ll be better to have them all young at the same time rather than waiting—at least that’s the line he feeds you.
“no, rafe, they’re gonna be like irish twins. it’s so embarassing,” you say next to him in bed, staring up at your husband.
“what’s that?”
“when you have two babies that aren’t even a year apart.”
“oh. that’s a thing? good, at least there’s a name for it. i’ll get you a book on it, since that’s what we’re doin’.”
and try as you might, even you can’t resist rafe for long, not when he’s taking such good care of you and just wants to give you another baby with his blue eyes and your pretty hair. you end up in the same position that got you into this whole situation—your knees folded to your chest and eyes rolling back while rafe slams into you.
“don’t worry, baby,” he breathes into your ear, low and quiet since the baby’s sleeping in the other room. “i’ll get y’knocked up again. won’t have to think about a thing in this world except my kids.”
it’s a shame you get pregnant so quickly—rafe was so fun when his only thought revolved around fucking you full of his cum.
“well, s’not gonna be irish twins. too far apart,” rafe says, looking at the photos from the doctor’s appointment.
“no, it’s just regular twins.” you don’t think you’ve ever seen rafe so happy.
#lol <3 this has been in the drafts for SO LONG#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#what should we call her#wifey reader
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LIPSTICK MARKS | matt sturniolo
pairing: bf!matt x f!reader
summary: you were staying over at your boyfriend's place, and he had been gaming all day playing fortnite while you were on his lap but once you started kissing him and marking him up, it was now leading to more passionate moments.
warnings: smut, blow job, submissive matt, unprotected, gentle sex, whimpering matt, handjob, pet names (mommy, baby, darling, good boy, slut), nipple playing, hair grabbing, biting.
a/n: not my photos, found on pinterest. Do you play fortnite??
WORDS: 3.1k
miyasturniolo on wattpad
you - pink | matt - blue | nick - purple
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You've been hanging out with your boyfriend for two days now, and even though he didn't want you to leave, you decided to stay at his because you had a whole week with no plans.
Currently, he is playing Fortnite while you were sitting on his lap. He was on his gaming chair but occasionally he had his hand on your thigh, but not for long due to he’s focused on the game.
He is on mic with his brother Nick, as Chris couldn't be bothered to play at the moment so it left to them two. "110!" Matt exclaims as he successfully hits an enemy with a sniper shot.
While playing, you can hear Nick yelling at Matt for help, even though Matt is already assisting. "GET HIM! I'M LITERALLY ON 20 HEALTH, YOU DUMB FUCK!" Nick shouts over the mic.
You can't help but laugh quietly at nick due to you faintly heard him on mic. Matt groans as he got knocked down after being sniped by the opponent they both were trying to kill.
He glances at you before moving your position slightly on his lap so your comfortable. He couldn’t help but your movements were gonna start arousing him, though he doesn't say anything and tries to focus on what to say to you while he’s spectating Nick who’s trying to get his reboot card and run.
"Are you okay?" he whispers, muting himself to avoid being teased by Nick. "Yeah, how about you?" You reply with a smile, and he nods before kissing your cheek.
He wrapped his arms around you for a moment, taking a break from playing. His thumb gently rubbed your arm. “Sorry if I’m boring you,” he said, making you chuckle.
“You’re not,” you replied, and he simply smiled before kissing your head. In the background, you could faintly hear Nick screaming on his mic as he was being pursued by an opponent, while Matt had temporarily watching due to he died.
“FOR FUCK'S SAKE, LEAVE ME ALONE!” Nick shouted, although his opponent couldn't actually hear him. Matt chuckled, then unmuted and put his headset back on. “No need to scream,” he teased, but you could have sworn Nick rolled his eyes.
Matt kept his arm around you as he watched Nick, who surprisingly managed to stay alive despite being considered the weakest player of the group. Matt didn't mind as long as Nick was still in the game.
You traced your fingers over his tattoos, a gesture he enjoyed. He looked at your hands before kissing your head.
Nick hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should reboot Matt at reckless railways or not due to there was a medallion. He risked it, guided by the yellow circle on the map indicating the enemy with the medallion was moving away.
"You're only on twenty health.. you should find some meds," Matt advised, rubbing your arm before focusing back on the game, with you still sitting on his lap.
"I'll manage for now," the eldest triplet assured Matt, as he returned to the game, searching for weapons instead of settling for a grey pistol.
You were watching him game as he gathered loot, followed by Nick. "There are six people left, two duos including us, and two solos," Nick calculated. "Got it."
As the game reached its final moments with only two teams remaining, Matt spotted the other duo and roughly marked their location. "They're around there.. I saw both of them," he noted, giving a slight indication of their whereabouts due to their medallions and he saw them.
Nick acted without hesitation, taking a shot at the opponent, but it was only a body shot. "34," he exclaimed, as he swiftly swung his assault rifle at the player who was building cover, while another opponent attempted to snipe.
Matt tried to assist by firing back, but Nick was soon taken down by a headshot. As Matt constructed protective barriers, he spoke on mic, "Come here," prompting Nick to crawl towards him in the game.
Despite the attackers targeting his structures, Matt persevered in attempting to revive Nick. "Damn it, I'm running low on materials," he muttered, dividing his focus between building and reviving to avoid getting shot.
"Leave me behind," Nick insisted, but Matt refused, knowing their chances of survival were slim without him.
As you observed their gameplay, you shifted slightly on his lap, causing him to bite his lip not just from concentration, but also from the heat of your body against his, starting to make him hard.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath as Nick was revived and began healing with a Medkit. "Head to the circle."
As he watched the enemy player with the medal on his map move away, likely heading towards the circle, he scanned the area with his sniper rifle but found nothing at the moment. Without hesitation, he dashed towards the circle, with Nick following suit.
They soon found themselves inside the circle, while their foes remained hidden. Matt muted himself and concealed his character in a bush in the game. "Baby," he whispered, feeling a rush of excitement just from gazing into your eyes.
"You keep moving, and it's turning me on," he expressed after ensuring he was muted. You simply stared back at him, while Nick's voice came through the mic faintly, "Are you there?"
Just as Matt was about to unmute himself, you intervened. "I'll take care of your little issue if you promise not to mute yourself." This statement puzzled Matt, but he agreed to your terms.
You stood up from his lap, causing him to furrow his brow and frown. However, he soon realized you were now kneeling in front of him, which widened his eyes. "Y/n," he murmured, but you didn't act, only whispering, "Unmute yourself... be a good boy, hm?" Matt complied, though his hands trembled as he grew more aroused.
Matt confirmed his presence with a simple “Yeah, I'm here,” as he gazed at you briefly before refocusing on the game to locate the elusive duo before the circle closed in.
You began to tease him, eliciting a surprised moan that he quickly stifled with his hand. "What the fuck?!" Nick exclaimed over the mic upon hearing the moan, but then laughed. Matt chuckled so it wasn’t awkward, though his attention remained primarily on the game.
Removing his jeans and boxers, you found his throbbing cock exposed to the cool air. "I've found them," Matt announced, as you began stroking him, causing him to bite his lip and let out a whimper. Fortunately, Nick either didn't hear or chose not to acknowledge it.
As they both engaged in shooting at the enemy in the game, you, with your hand now covered in pre-cum, continued to pleasure Matt, whose legs widened to give you better access and control.
His focus disrupted, Matt was eventually taken down in the game. "Damn," he muttered, a soft moan escaping him under your touch.
You watched as Matt leaned on his gaming chair, trying not to make a sound because he couldn't mute himself. He kept glancing at you, stroking him, which made him whimper. Then his attention turned back to the game, where he was was spectating Nick once again.
He removed his headset and placed it around his neck, but, as you had instructed, he didn't unmute himself. "Please, mommy," he whispered so softly that Nick couldn't hear.
"Louder," you urged, causing him to look at you with his blue eyes fixed on your face. He hesitated for a moment before repeating it louder, knowing that Nick heard this time. "Please, mommy," he said more audibly and firmly. Nick asked why he had said that, but he didn't respond.
You increased your stroking pace, eliciting a stifled moan from him and causing his legs to faintly tremble. He closed his eyes, whimpering.
Feeling the need to mute himself, he did so, placing the headset on the table. As you looked at him, he spoke, "fuck you for this," before grabbing your hair and making you gag on his member. "Choke on me, baby. Get what you deserve."
He watched as you pleasured him, guiding you gently. "That's it, darling," he said as you took him deep, causing you to gag slightly as his sensitive tip brushed the back of your throat.
Looking up at him, you noticed his grip on your hair tightening as he neared climax, urging you to pick up the pace. You traced your tongue along his veins, eliciting moans and whimpers from him.
"holy fuck, mommy!" he exclaimed, not too loudly to alert his two identical brothers nearby. He notice he had won a game Nick seemed to finished for them both.
Releasing your hair, he allowed you to take control while you continued your ministrations. "I'm so close, baby," he whimpered as his moans intensified.
He reached his peak in your mouth, some of it spilling onto your chin, his breathing heavy. “Shit..” he muttered, closing his eyes and catching his breath.
"Darling," he whispered, brushing your hair away from your face to gaze at you after you had finished giving him pleasure. “yeah?”
He stayed silent for a moment. He could hear Nick faintly on the mic, but it seemed like he had given up asking where Matt was or what he was doing. Nick was now watching TikTok while they were both in the lobby.
“you marked me in a way, your lipstick all around my dick” he whispered before cleaning himself up with a tissue. His dick was now soft, no longer hard from the earlier head you had given him but you both couldn’t help but chuckle.
Matt got off the gaming chair, put on fresh boxers, but couldn’t be bothered to put on sweatpants at 8pm. He looked at you and chuckled before wiping a tiny bit of his cum off your chin. “Missed a bit,” he teased, which made you chuckle before replying, “seems like I have.”
He grabbed your hand and sat you on his lap once he was back in the gaming chair. He noticed the hairband in your messy ponytail that he had pulled earlier, so he gently let your hair down and made a neater ponytail for you.
"I'm going back on the mic, okay?" He said before placing his hand on your thigh and putting on his mic. He could hear his brother TikTok, "I'm back," which made Nick gasp. "Finally, after years it feels like"
They played a few matches and lost their crown win, but it was now around late 10pm. You were on your phone and then watching him. He was mostly dying, but he wasn't focused on it anymore ever since you gave him head. He loved the way you did it, and he didn't know how he was going to forget about it since it was probably one of the best he’s had.
"You still haven't answered me. Why did you disappear?" Nick said, and Matt's cheeks turned red, but he lied. "I mean, my girlfriend is here. I can't just be gaming all day and forget about her."
Since nick now got his answer, he was buying it especially since he knew you were actually in matts room for another night. He even didn't notice that Matt was saying a lie.
The middle triplet, Matt was daydreaming while spectating Nick due to the number of times he died, even dying by two Fortnite AIs.
All he thought about was how you gave him the head and wanting you even more.
He thought for a moment, still listening to Nick a little longer before deciding to excuse himself. "Nick, I'll be right back," he said, muting himself and removing his microphone, placing it around his neck.
He glanced at you, engrossed in your phone, and couldn't help but smile. "y/n," he whispered, catching your attention.
His eyes were filled with love and another emotion that you recognized from the way he looked at you earlier.. lust. "Yeah?" you responded.
"Can you ride me while I play? I promise to behave," Matt murmured, locking eyes with you with his blue gaze.
Your eyes widened, but you couldn't resist rolling them at his vulnerability. Nevertheless, you started kissing his neck, eliciting soft moans from him.
"I didn't expect you to be in the mood already," he murmured, ensuring that he was still muted, which he fortunately was.
Leaving lipstick marks on his neck, you whispered, "Talk to your brother if you want," knowing his skin was a bit paler than most.
"I can't... I know he will realise that we are fucking," he mumbled, closing his eyes as you gently moved your hips against him.
"I swear if I'm not inside you in the next five minutes, I'll lose control and take you forcefully," he said firmly, releasing a moan as his hands gripped your hips.
You began to kiss his neck, causing him to moan even louder, but then decided to playfully tease him. "You can't leave your brother waiting," you said with a smirk, to which he just cursed.
"Forget him... all I want is for you to be with me," he whispered, biting his lip and locking eyes with you. "I should speak.. shouldn’t I?" he groaned.
You chuckled softly and increased the pace of your movements before glancing at him, noticing the marks you left on his neck.
He simply looked at you before putting his microphone back on. "I'm going to spend some time with my girlfriend," he announced quickly before exiting the Fortnite lobby and shutting down his PC.
Before you could say anything, he gently placed his headset down and kissed your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, drawing you closer. "Fuck me, please... I'm such a slut, I swear, but only for you," he whispered.
He let out a soft whimper as you removed his shirt, his breath hitching when your hands touched his cool chest.
You glanced at him in his boxers, while you were in a shirt and shorts from a brand called Let's Trip, as you had been about to head to bed not long ago.
"Well, like I said.. I am a slut for you, but you are as well since your the one sitting on my lap without underwear or a bra," he said with a smirk, but you just rolled your eyes playfully and began to palm him instead of grinding against his lap.
His eyes widened as he let out a loud moan before biting your shoulder and closing his eyes. "Y/n... seriously. I'm about to cum and I'm not even inside you yet."
You noticed him playing with your shirt, so you paused as he removed it, revealing your breasts.
His eyes widened, but he wasted no time and began rubbing his thumb on your sensitive nipples before sucking on them, listening to your soft moans.
He was desperate to be inside you and couldn't wait any longer. He pulled away briefly to look at you before removing your shorts without asking, knowing you would allow it.
Now naked before him, he was only in boxers, he kissed the shoulder where he had left a mark. "Sorry," he mumbled. “Don’t worry..”
You felt his soft lips on your skin, but then he patted your thigh, indicating for you to get off his lap. As you stood up, he removed his boxers, revealing his throbbing, erect member.
"Please, baby... I need you so badly," he whimpered as you returned to his lap, slowly taking him inside you.
You let out a soft moan as Matt became a whimpering mess, feeling how tight you were around him. He held your hip to encourage you to slow down. "Take your time," he mumbled.
No matter what, he always prioritized your comfort, even if he lost control. He always made sure you were okay.
He arched his back as you felt his size inside you, guiding you down onto him, hearing you moan with a mix of pain and pleasure.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to reassure you. He loosened his grip on your hips and slowly guided you to grind on him to ease the discomfort. "Ah..." you groaned.
You glanced at Matt, who was a moaning mess but was trying to hold back, focused on making sure you were not in pain.
He continued to guide your hips, and soon he found your G-spot, causing you to moan and roll your eyes back slightly, while Matt gasped and groaned.
"Oh my..." He said as you now ground your hips on his lap, covering his mouth to avoid drawing attention. "Y/n!" he whimpered.
He slowly released his grip and carefully placed it on his gaming chair, gripping the arm rest tightly, causing his knuckles to turn white.
As you picked up the pace and began moaning louder, though not as loudly as Matt, who always did when he was submissive, he whispered, "Mommy..."
"Are you close already?" you asked in a hushed tone, to which he nodded. He moved his hands, now squeezing your backside, but couldn't help the tremors running through his body as his orgasm approached.
"Me too," you said before increasing the intensity slightly, mindful of his sensitivity when he wasn't in a dominant role. "Slow down."
You matched his desired rhythm with your hips, but it was still satisfying for you. Soon, he climaxed inside you, emitting a moan that might have been heard by one of his brothers.
You reached your peak with him, letting out a loud moan, though not as loud as his, and soon found yourselves panting, covered in sweat, and his room likely smelling of sex. He rubbed your back and kissed your jawline.
Exhausted, he whispered, “No more rounds, please,” as he caught his breath. You nodded in understanding and hugged him briefly before attempting to get off his lap. However, he shook his head, signaling for you to stay seated.
“Just a little longer?” he asked, to which you huffed before speaking. “Only because I care about you- and love you,” as you wrap your arms around him again.
MIYAS MASTERLIST & INFO
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