#(but it's too much of a gap for anything to come of this y'know?)

[practically-an-x-man]

not me catching feelings for one of my castmates...

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense  is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today. 

Not that you’re really complaining. 

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit.  His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful. 

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?” 

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.” 

He grins and raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips. 

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once. 

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously. 

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out. 

“Just Joel if fine, actually.” 

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience. 

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe. 

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief. 

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out. 

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements. 

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head. 

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same. 

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes. 

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it. 

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word. 

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as  his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming. 

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace. 

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open. 

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore. 

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper. 

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case. 

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him. 

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day. 

For the next time. 

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip. 

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to. 

Because he just called you his girl. 

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century. 

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy. 

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice. 

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?” 

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting. 

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your  jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him. 

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore. 

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch. 

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is. 

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you. 

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. 

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.” 

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation. 

But he would never let you win that easily, would he? 

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper. 

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts. 

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms. 

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess. 

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under. 

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything. 

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want. 

It’s Joel.

All of it. 

You want Joel. 

All of him. 

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him. 

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh. 

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily. 

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders. 

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane!  And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.” 

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you. 

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in. 

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if  you think I'm like this with anyone else.” 

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying. 

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip. 

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything. 

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together.  “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you. 

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second. 

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up. 

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts. 

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out. 

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly. 

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls,  his thumb moving  to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually. 

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again. 

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm.  "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry.  Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive. 

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and  scorching you from the inside out. 

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions. 

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress. 

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.” 

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair. 

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is  betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me."

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him. 

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then  bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them. 

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk. 

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile. 

Every time. 

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times. 

How the fuck is this real? 

He  stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it. 

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket. 

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?” 

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone.. 

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but  kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes. 

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back  on his knees, one  hand around the base of his cock, the other  on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change. 

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him. 

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan. 

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost. 

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch. 

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you. 

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest. 

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it. 

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile. 

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure. 

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away. 

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard. 

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

[wandasslut3000]

Welcome to the neighborhood

Pairing: MILF!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, unspecified age gap, mentions of death and cheating, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, switch!reader, powerbottom!wanda, fingering, scissoring, marking, praise, fluff and aftercare.

WC: 3.2k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The house next door was just sold, a moving truck and furniture adorning the once peaceful lawn. Wanda was observing you through her window, a light flush on her cheeks as she noticed the tight grip your shirt had on your body. Your muscles slightly flexing as you carry one box after another into your new home.

Some movers were also there to help, but Wanda paid them no mind, she just couldn't pull her eyes away from you. She didn't know what it was but something about you made her heart beat faster, she hadn't even met you yet, let alone know your name and you already had such an alluring grip on the older woman.

Suddenly, as though you felt her gaze on you, your head turned and you made eye contact with her. Wanda's breath hitching as she meets your burning stare. You wink in her direction, a small smirk on your lips as you watch her cheeks darken through the window, a tight grip on the curtain slightly tugging the fabric.

Quickly regaining herself, Wanda sends a short smile back, before an idea pops into her mind. Hesitantly, leaving the window's view, she goes over to the base of the stairs.

"Boys!" She calls for her twins, a small patter of steps followed by "Yes Mom?" as they made their way down the stairs to her. "Did you know we have a new neighbor?" she smiles at them and their eyes widen in excitement.

"Really? Who?" Billy asks before Tommy interrupts. "Can we go say hi to him? Does he have a dog? I bet he has a dog!"

Wanda giggles at her boys before she corrects the latter. "She is in the house next door, and I'm not really sure who she is yet, but what do you boys think about making a new friend?"

Both nod in agreement, "We should make her cookies!" Billy suggests and Wanda beams at her son.

"That's a great idea honey."

The next day the boys grab their plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies and rush up to your door, their mother right behind them. Wanda couldn't lie that she did in fact get herself ready for you, wanting to make a good appearance in your presence.

"Welcome to the neighborhood!" Both twins greet you as you open the door, a confused smile on your face, but still you accept it, bending down to their height and thanking them. "We made you cookies." Tommy smiles, "They were Billy's idea though."

You practically melt at their sweet gesture. "Thank you so much, you guys are so sweet!" You then look up to be met with the same green irises that were watching you the previous day.

Standing back up, you reach out for her hand.

"Hi, you must be their mother, I'm Y/n, nice to meet you." You send her a charming smile and Wanda can practically feel her knees buckle.

"Yes, hello dear, I'm Wanda, and these are my boys, Billy and Tommy." She gestures to the eight year olds, both of them beaming at you in curiosity.

"Well it's nice to meet all of you, would you like to come inside? There's not really much because y'know, I'm still getting settled, but you can still look around if you'd like." You softly ramble, your hands moving to play with the rings on your fingers.

Wanda loves how you got all flustered around her, she nods and the twins squeal in joy as they rush inside the house.

"Oh lord.. boys! Get back here, you don't just run into other people's homes!" But it was already too late, both of them had gone inside to explore, not hearing their mother as they went to the opposite ends of the house.

Leaving both of you alone at the threshold.

You shake your head. "No no, it's fine really, it's cute if anything." Wanda smiles at you again, something she notices is starting to come up a lot more in your presence. You gesture her inside and bring her into the living room, a few boxes in the corners while the couch and coffee table were already in place.

You sit down on the couch and pat down for her to sit next to you. Placing the cookies on the table in front of you both.

"Thank you so much for these by the way, did you make them?" The older woman finds herself in a struggle to speak at the closeness between you two. "I- um I helped them a little."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm."

"So.. how's your husband?" This made Wanda halt, her breath hitching and eyebrows furrowing at the random question. "What?"

You chuckle at her sudden confusion.

"Well you're wearing a wedding band, and your children are running around somewhere in my house, so I can only assume a gorgeous woman like yourself is married."

She rolls her eyes before shaking her head in a rush of sadness.

"Actually he um.. He passed away around this time a few years ago, I- I guess I just wear it because I'm so used to it." Wanda sighs, twisting the ring on her finger, and you instantly regret asking the question.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know." You whisper and she just smiles dismissively.

"No sweetheart, it's alright.. I'm over it, I found out he was cheating on me awhile back so, I guess he got what he deserved." You both fall into a fit of laughter, her humor being unexpected in such a dark topic.

"Oh my god! Sorry! I'm so sorry- I know that's not funny..." You wheeze out, and she just giggles along with you.

"It's okay." She nods at you, taking your hand in hers and stroking it with her thumb. "I like your laugh, it's adorable." Wanda flutters her eyelashes towards you and your cheeks redden at the complement.

"T-Thank you."

Weeks went by and Wanda and the twins kept coming over, becoming regular houseguests. Some days it would be the opposite, where you were the one accompanying them for dinner or lunch.

Saturday night was officially 'movie night' where the twins would drag you over and you would all watch a movie of their choosing. Usually something from Disney or Pixar.

Today was Saturday which meant that tonight you would be over at the Maximoff's. Having promised Tommy that you would let them watch a scary movie. You didn't really see the need to dress up so you decided on an oversized shirt and some sleeping shorts.

When you knocked on the door, you were greeted by Wanda herself, her body covered in a pink satin robe that hugged her figure perfectly, her breasts pushed up slightly as you noticed the soft mounds cupped by black lace.

"Hi honey, sorry I forgot to tell you, the boys are at a sleepover tonight." You're brought back into reality at the sound of her voice, and you blink rapidly.

“Oh, that's alright, I'll go then, have a good night." You smile and turn away ready to leave when she calls back to you.

"Y/n wait, come inside, I could use a bit of company anyway." She smiles, and you just can't bring yourself to say no to that face. You slowly approach her, walking past her and suddenly you had never felt smaller.

Mindlessly you make your way into the living room, just as you've done dozens of times before. Sitting down on her couch while she goes off into the kitchen. Coming back with some wine and two glasses.

You smile at her for her kindness, which she returns. Placing the bottle down on the table, and passing you a glass, she moves to sit next to you, opening and pouring the wine into each glass. Turning to face you she holds her face with her palm, eyeing you with an expectant look as you both take a sip.

"How've you been malyash?" A slight accent in her words.

"I- um, I've been alright, how about you?" You could barely find yourself to speak as you felt some sort of tension in the air. So you quickly took a larger sip of wine, grimacing at the taste of the alcohol.

"I'm better now that you're here." She winks and you miserably try to hide your flustered expression.

A few hours go by with you both talking and getting to know each other better. The wine slightly getting to both of your heads as you both enjoy the time to yourselves.

Soon, you're both sitting in her bed, watching a movie together side by side under the covers. A steamier scene pops up on screen and your breath hitches slightly when you feel a cold hand start to rub circles on your thigh.

You turn to Wanda and she doesn't pull her attention away from the movie, her hand moving higher up your thigh and closer to your core, your breathing getting heavier.

Finally she turns to you, and you feel yourself get lost in her beauty for a moment, right before she speaks. "Y/n can I ask you something?"

"Of course." A little silence followed and she slowly debates if she should even tell you "What is it Wanda?

"Kiss me?"

"What?" You ask, shocked at her boldness, yet your whole body encased itself in a layer of heat, blood rising to your cheeks. She smirks at your reaction, biting her lip softly as she straddles your lap, taking your face into her hands.

Almost closing the distance between the two of you.

Just before she makes contact, her lustful eyes drop down to your parted lip. "I said.. kiss me." She whispers teasingly, and you shiver. Your lips then pressed against hers, her hands moving to grip into your hair.

Yours travel to her waist before sliding down to her ass, gripping at her through her robe. Bringing your dominant hand underneath, you discover that the older woman wasn't wearing any panties, your fingers instantly meeting her wetness.

Finding her clit, you slowly circle the little bundle of nerves. "O-Oh!" Wanda breaks the kiss in an affected gasp, her mouth falling open as her eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

Yet it's still not enough for her. Slowly she starts to grind down on your fingers and thigh, grabbing onto your shoulders for support as she tries to use the friction to get herself off.

“Fuck, you feel so good-" She squeals, your free hand moving to the tie of her robe, but she slaps it away.

Still humping your leg, the woman moves to untie the knot, the satin falling open and leaving her in her lace bra, reaching behind her and unclipping it with ease.

"You're so beautiful" You gasp as she throws the robe and her bra onto the floor.

"Thank you detka, you’re doing such a good job for me."

She practically screams as she cums. Her wetness smearing against your skin.

You trail kisses from her sternum to her neck and then finally to her lips when she comes back down from her climax. A small smile coming from her, breaking the kiss as she pushes you down onto the bed.

"You made me feel so good baby, you're just my perfect girl aren't you?" You whimper and nod rapidly, wanting nothing more than for Wanda to have her way with you. To absolutely ruin you.

"All yours."

Her hands move to strip you of your clothes, leaving you bare in front of her. You whine as she straddles her pussy on yours, your wetness rubbing against hers, earning groans from the both of you at the contact.

You throw your head back as she starts to grind against you, your wet clits brushing against each other repeatedly.

Wanda goes to suck harshly at the sensitive skin at your neck, your mouth dropping in pleasure.

"Uh- uh huh, oh-h fuck please!" You moan as she gains speed, your hands moving to Wanda's back and your nails digging into her skin. A sharp hiss comes from her before she pins your wrists above your head.

Your eyes roll back into your skull as she practically slams her pussy on yours, her entrance and outer lips rubbing perfectly against your puffy bundle of nerves. "I'm gonna cum- god, ah! Please, I wanna cum!" You mindlessly babble as your hips start thrashing against hers.

"Go on sweet girl, cum with me, show m-me how good I make you f-feel." Wanda's words come out slightly broken and breathless, her accent running through her voice as it rang in your ears. Her permission is the last thing you need to get to your release.

Both of you gasp as you reach your peaks, Wanda bending down to connect your lips in a messy and desperate kiss. Her hands moving from your wrists, and finding their way back onto your face as she holds you close. Soon her lips move to press little kisses all over your face making you smile.

"You're so perfect." She says in a teasing baby voice. "So so pretty." Her finger goes to slide down the bridge of your nose as she adjusts herself so she's no longer on top of you but next to you.

Your face turns red at the attention. "Stoppp." You groan, turning away to avert your eyes from her burning gaze. "Never." She whispers in your ear, a shiver falling over you at the huskiness in her voice. You turn to face her with a wide smile.

“Good, I don’t really want you to”

You both fall into a fit of giggles at your cheesy actions before you fall into eachothers gazes, getting lost in eachothers eyes in a small pocket of silence. Wanda moves to cup your cheek and starts to stroke her thumb on it, your gaze falling to her lips for a moment before looking back into her forest eyes.

"Can I kiss you again?" She smiles at the question but nods, your lips now on hers in a more sensual and passionate way. In between kisses she says, "You don’t have to ask." You giggle, kissing her a few more times before pulling the covers over your naked bodies and holding each other close.

"Thank you Wanda." You mumble in your sleepy state and she can't the little grin that goes onto her face once more. "For what malaysia?"

“For knocking on my door.” She smiles at that and goes to say something, however she cuts herself off when she hears a soft snore come from you. She adjusts herself to nuzzle your head into her neck as you hold her tight.

The next morning Wanda wakes up to an empty bed. The spot you once resided in now empty and cold. At first a large frown appeared on her face, the first thought in her mind was that it might have all been a dream.

But the smell of cinnamon filled her nostrils making her second guess her theory.

The scent was soon followed by your thumping footsteps up the stairs. You walk into her bedroom with a tray in your hands.

You'd made her breakfast. Wanda soon feels her cheeks burn and her smile widening at the sight of you in her clothes and taking time out of your day to make her food.

"What's all this?" She asks, sitting up slightly as she inspects the tray before her. "I made you breakfast." You smile before moving to explain.

"I made you some french toast and scrambled eggs with sausage." She didn't say anything as she let you ramble on. "Uh- and here's some strawberries, also I didn't know if you wanted it or not but I got you water with ice. Obviously if you don't want the ice then-."

Wanda cuts you off by placing her thumb against your lips. "Breathe baby." Your eyes fall onto her still naked body and instantly do as she says, a small smirk forming on her lips as her finger brushes against your bottom lip:

"Thank you so much love bug, you're so thoughtful for making me all this, but I don't think I can finish it all by myself."

"Let's eat it together, yeah?" She suggests and you smile and nod before grabbing and handing her a shirt when you notice her shiver at the coldness of the room.

You move to sit next to her, moving the food over to make room for the both of you. Wanda goes to grab a fork and take a bite of the eggs and she lets out a surprised expression.

"Y/n, this is actually really good." You let out a gasp of fake offense.

"Why are you acting so surprised?"

"I- Not that it's a bad thing, but I just didn't expect you to be a good cook." You burst into laughter.

"That's what you were thinking about when you first met me? If I was a good cook or not?" You tease and she rolls her eyes.

"Shut up and eat your food." You push her arm playfully but go back to eating. Once you both finished the plate and water, you reached for the strawberries and moved the tray to the floor. You then lay on your back with the bowl of strawberries on top of your abdomen.

Wanda reaches for one and pops it into her mouth, munching on it happily as she leans on her hand, her right hand holding her head up while her left one brushes up and down your arm.

You smile as this is the type of morning you've dreamed of spending with someone, most especially her.

"I wanna stay like this forever." You sigh out as you look at her, Wanda places a quick kiss on your shoulder as she moves to wrap her arms around you. "We can, I mean, nothing's stopping us from being with each other."

"You're right."

The doorbell soon rings followed by the sounds of the twins muffed shouts of "Mom! We're home!"

Your eyes widen as you both scramble to get cleaned up, Wanda goes to put a new set of clothes on and you take a quick peek through the window of her bedroom, looking out to see the boys talking to each other behind the locked door.

Somehow, they feel your gaze on them and look up, making eye contact with you and they gasp in surprise. "Y/n!" "Y/n's here!" They cheer and your face burns. You take a deep breath and slowly walk downstairs and open the door for the boys.

When they see you behind the door they start to bombard you with questions. "When'd you get here?" "Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" "Are we gonna watch movies tonight? Are we..."

He pauses, "Wait, what's that on your neck?" Your heart drops to your stomach, and you look at Tommy confused.

"What was that hun?"

"What's that purple mark on your neck?"

[luneariaa]

ᯓ★٠ ࣪⭑ UNSPOKEN. ✧ KENJI S. { 𝐈 }.

✰ — PART 1 ; mentions of kenji having some deep; untold sadness, emi mention, the reader being the sunshine friend to kenji + having close relationship.

✰ — probably will have more two - three parts of the story! tried to fit in one part, but it doesn't work somehow ( ╥ω╥ ) to those who wanted to be tagged in the next future parts, feel free to comment or send me an ask <33 !! ✩₊˚. PART 2.

. dividers by @/strangergraphics ⛓ !!

GROWING UP, for almost his entire life, KENJI— regardless of the increase of popularity and fame, doesn't really have that much of friends. Does he even have them at this point? He doesn't really have anyone that he could actually rely on; even trusted fully.

Despite everything from the outside of one's possible perspective, he's still the lonely, sweet boy deep down. None has ever truly cracked his persona down and managed to bring out his true self, which a part of him is glad for some reason— but the other, not so much.

The attention that he has received all over the world doesn't really mean anything, not what he silently craved and secretly desperate for.

Companionship, someone who actually cares about his wellbeing as a whole despite his ongoing status.

Yes, of course, he loves the fact that he's able to accomplish something that's quite significant to him, at least— getting all of the attention that they think he truly deserved, but there will always be this one void within his heart; as if begging to be fixed with something that even he himself wasn't so sure about it.

His mansion may have everything that he ever needed, but it still feels bleak, somehow, no matter what he's trying to do. What's the point of having large spaces, when in the end, the mere silence will be his only company?

Kenji doesn't even realize it, but sometimes, he ended up just staring blankly at the empty gaps of his surroundings; feeling lost at the said moment.

His world has been nothing but simply revolving around his stardom life as much as the realization hits him; an endless, monochromatic-colored world that he tacitly faced alone with some fair, or unfair number of struggles.

"Must be a tough day today, yeah Ken?"

"You should take some more needed breaks, at least!" He swiftly got pulled out of his train of thoughts, eyes immediately glancing to the source of sound. This is his reality now, not the one that he keeps on unconsciously reminiscing of.

"Pushing yourself too hard wouldn't be too good for your health, y'know." A euphonious voice scolded him lightly, accompanied with a bright, albeit concerned grin.

Kenji now took notice of you standing by the doorway; your smile remained despite the visible apprehensive look that was directed towards him. Completely aware of the mere truth behind your words alone, he averts his gaze back elsewhere— cracking a small, yet almost forceful of a smile as if he's trying to ease down your concerns.

"Yeah, you got a point. It's just the usual, I guess," he scratches the back of his head while lazily slouching on the bed. "It's not me if I don't mope over some pointless stuff."

"Well, it's not that pointless if it bothers you." You exhale out, gradually pulling him out of the bed.

"Maybe we can try something for the day— maybe you wanted to play baseball for a bit? I'll watch 'cuz you know I suck at those."

He couldn't hold back the snort from escaping, which earned a disapproving pout from you, but nonetheless, you added further.

"Or we could just play around with baby Emi as always! Or both, I don't know.."

"Perhaps that could at least ease your mind for a bit..?"

He could clearly sense your efforts; chuckling as he knows that he doesn't have any other plausible choices, but to simply follow your lead without any complaints. When it comes to you, Kenji knew it would always be futile to try anything quite the contrary from it.

"That sounds nice, actually." A genuine smile, despite the hints of his exhaustion, tugged at the corner of his lips. Has he even noticed it himself on how easy it is for you to coax him out of his shell? "Playing with Emi sounds amazing."

Kenji admitted along with a smirk being present by now, replacing his previous smile while doing some mini stretches here and there.

"I know!" You merely giggled over his words, "Besides, I just know that the baby already misses you. I fed her earlier too, in case you're wondering!" His pretty, midnight-colored eyes seemed to brighten up after you finished speaking for a bit.

"At this rate, I think you're spoiling her a bit too much," he castigated facetiously, earning an eyeroll from you when one of his hands ended up atop of your head— giving it a playful ruffle.

"Well, what can I say.."

"She's just a cute, big baby."

His genuine smile returned in mere seconds, finding the whole idea to be quite endearing; causing for him to feel the warmth that's starting to blossom within his chest. He's totally aware of his whole responsibility at this point— unintentionally, yet welcoming the idea of becoming a father to the baby kaiju, now willingly to take care of her because she's one of the reasons that actually changed him for the better.

Throughout the whole conversation that the two of you have shared with one another, it seemed as if the burdens on his shoulders has been lifted away; the atmosphere becoming more comfortably lighter than before without you even realizing it yourself.

Kenji doesn't even know how, but your sole presence has something in particular that keeps him grounded, and he values you deeply for that.

Even with such mystery that's been shrouding around you, it never really bothered him that much; respecting your boundaries and taking an immediate notice on how you seemed to be uncomfortable with talking about your own past and parents, in a way. He assumed that something might have happened before, hence the vague details you kept telling him— no irritation present ever.

Maybe someday, you'll have the courage to tell him. But for now, you would rather keep it a secret.

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are welcomed. all rights reserved.

[talaok]

At the Met

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress! reader

summary: You and Pedro, Hollywood's hottest couple, attend the Met Gala together, but when you find out your ex was invited too, things start going sideways.

warning: angst, jealousy, age-gap

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @vawnila but since I am delusional, I decided to merge it with yesterday's event bc this man...

Pt. 2

[ "And here they come! y/n y/l/n and Pedro Pascal, Hollywood's hottest couple!"

"wow, they look amazing" ]

You'd been to the Met before, and so had Pedro, but going as a couple was something much different, especially with all the talk you two had caused in the last six months. There wasn't a magazine or a blog that wasn't talking about your age gap or the way you'd both robbed millions of women and men of the chance to be with Hollywood's most desired bachelor and bachelorette.

The past few months had been a mess, and still, you didn't think you'd ever had that much fun.

Pedro was everything you had ever wished for in a man. he was kind and sweet and funny, and not any less handsome, he was perfect.

So when he took your hands in his as you walked up the carpet, you couldn't help but smile up at him, just for him to meet your glance with the same adoration.

The carpet was the easy part though, what actually scared you, was the dinner.

Being seated next to a bunch of celebrities you didn't know... that was your personal version of hell, but at least this year Pedro was gonna be next to you.

The first part of the dinner went well, the first moments were awkward as you had expected, but then the woman sitting opposite you broke the ice and everyone seemed to relax.

Pedro sensed your tension at times and tried to soothe you by placing his hand on your thigh, or murmuring something to your ear that most times resembled something like "We're almost done, sweetheart".

It was a good table, don't get me wrong, but there was something about knowing you were being watched and filmed and photographed by the world's most popular celebrities that always prevented you from fully calming down.

You were always on edge, only waiting for something bad to happen, until finally, your fear came to life.

You had excused yourself to go to the bathroom and were finding your way through the maze made of chairs and tables arranged in the room, when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey baby"

wait a minute,

you knew that voice.

You turned around, "Hi Nathan"

Of course you'd meet your ex here.

"Funny meeting you here" he grinned

"I had no idea you were coming"

"Neither did I about you, darling," he said, his eyes traveling up and down your body, not even pretending to not be checking you out "You're beautiful as ever" he complimented, his fingers tracing the side of your dress, and you just smiled, rolling your eyes playfully "really" he spoke, his voice lower "You're breathtaking, baby"

"thank you" You felt your cheeks get some involuntary color "You're not so bad yourself, you know?"

"why thank you" he joked "I wanted to find someone to have some fun with, but I think I might just have"

"Nathan..."

"What princess?"

You sighed "You can use my name y'know?"

"oh I know" he reassured "I just know how much you like when I call you names" he murmured, getting closer as he moved some hair away from your face "especially on some occasions"

"Nathan what are you d-"

"c'mon y/n you know what you mean to me," he said, his voice already resembling a beg "I'm not asking for anything, I'm just saying you know we could have fun... like the old times"

"Nathan I-"

"y/n I love you" he confessed, not for the first time since the breakup "You know I love you. I love you so much I can't live without you. This past year has been hell, and I know it's been the same for you. I need you y/n, and you need me, baby, we need each other." he spoke seemingly without taking a single breath, and you were frantically looking around you, praying no one was paying you two any mind "and I know you love me back, just admit it, we could start all over again, just forget all about the past" he implored.

"Nathan I have a boyfriend" you spat out

"who, that grandpa?" he mocked "I know you don't love him, he's just a-a phase, you know you should be with me. Deep down you know" 

You hadn't noticed how his hand had made its way to your arm.

"Let's go now, we can take my car and run away baby"

Your mouth gaped open but before you could speak, a barking voice intervened.

"go where?"

Your eyes traveled to your left, and just as you suspected, they met Pedro's.

Nathan, like the coward that he was, swallowed nervously as he looked back at you.

"nowhere," you said "Don't worry babe" you tried being casual, as you took a step toward your boyfriend, feeling grateful for a way out of that situation "Well it was nice seeing you Nathan, but I better go now," you forced a polite smile at him, as you intertwined your arm with your boyfriend's.

"goodbye buddy," Pedro said, in a more than slightly threatening tone.

"c'mon," you urged him, starting to walk away.

"think about what I said" Nathan spoke again, his tone deprived of all bravery all of a sudden.

You didn't even look back, just started to quicken your pace towards the table (Your need to use the bathroom had been long forgotten) when you felt Pedro tightening his arm's grip as he moved you into the trajectory of a private part of the gallery.

You frowned, once he stopped, looking around at the empty room.

"what is it?"

"What is it?" he repeated, clearly incredulous

"What?"

"What did he tell you?"

"Who"

"y/n..."

"Nathan?" you asked "Babe who cares, you know how he is, he's dumb, there's nothing I can do about it"

"tell me what he told you" you could see perfectly through this calm act.

You sighed "he told me he loves me and that I should run away with him"

"that's it?"

"Yes Pedro, that's it"

"What did you say?"

You gasped, offended and slightly annoyed "What do you think I told him, that I loved him back and to wait for me outside?!"

"What did you tell him?"

"Are you fuckin- I told him that I have a boyfriend"

He nodded perhaps satisfied "He was touching you"

"my arm" you reminded him.

"and your cheek" he reminded you too "this is the last time he does this" he decided "I'm gonna go talk to him"

"No, Pedro-" you grabbed his arm "I can deal with this on my own, plus, you're too mad, you can't go now"

"You've already dealt with this on your own, and it doesn't seem like you've made much progress"

You gasped, now actually mad "This is my problem, Pedro, you don't have anything to do with it"

"It's my problem too when it involves you"

"no, it's not."

"y/n I'm trying to help you"

"well I don't want your help, not with this"

"Why? 'cause it sure looks like you need it"

You scowled at him "fuck you"

"It's the truth y/n this guy's been bothering you since before we got together, that's not fucking normal"

"I know it isn't but I'm dealing with it in my own way"

"and I can't try my way?"

"well, I'm sorry if I don't want you to go out there and punch him, Pedro!" 

He paused, clearly as a part of him wanted to reply that he wouldn't have, another part informed him that there was a high probability he would have, in fact, punched the guy.

"y/n-"

"no you know what, I'm tired of this- this thing you do. I don't need to be saved, I can take care of myself"

"I don't doubt that, but I just wanted to help"

"you know you were not gonna help Pedro" You shot him a look "And I'm tired of this- jealousy" you sighed "I love you, Pedro, you know that, but if you don't trust me I don't understand how we could possibly have a relationship"

"I do trust you"

"then I could go out there and talk to Nathan right now?" you challenged "or you fear he might convince me, and I might run away with him?"

His jaw twitched.

"see" you breathed "just as I predicted"

" y/n-"he tried putting his hands on your waist but you stopped him.

"no, Pedro" you took a step back "Just-" you sighed "I need to be alone"

[ "Someone's coming out, it looks like... Pedro Pascal has just left the Gala"

"Where's the missus?"

"I don't see her"

"well you heard it here first folks, It looks like Pedro Pascal has just left the Met Gala with y/n y/l/n nowhere in sight" ]

Pt. 2

[yesimwriting]

Known

A/n i see this as taking place a little after  this , but they're both separate drabbles that can be read on their own :)

Summary: Late night drinking turns into reminiscing between friends. Or, in which you realize that you've always felt safe around Logan.

Warnings/info: age-gap (both characters are of consenting age!!), casual drinking, unnoticed pining, technopath!reader

----

The colors and voices radiating from the TV screen are easier to feel than experience, the electric current buzzing against your skin.

You move to sit up a little straighter, hands pressing into plush cushioning as you adjust. There's a distance to the way you're feeling, as if some odd lightness has managed to wedge itself between you and the world around you.

You lean forward, reaching for the bottle abandoned on the coffee table in front of you. Your fingers press into the glass as you move back into place, the side of your thumb tapping against the neck of the second beer you've finished tonight. A third might be nice, but the darkness around you makes the door feel too far to even think about getting to the kitchen.

There is a bottle of whisky only an arm's length away...it'd be easy to--

"No." The word is flat in its finality.

A soft laugh gives you away immediately. You press a palm against your lips as if that'll take the sound back. Sometimes Logan reads you so well you have to wonder if he has secret psychic abilities he hasn't told anyone about. "I didn't say anything."

He turns his head, lips pressing together in what feels like an attempt to dismiss the amusement behind his eyes. "Didn't have to." Logan's attention shifts back to the glass in his hand. "You're not drinking it."

You shift, turning to better analyze him. There's a stiffness to him that doesn't suit the amount of alcohol in his system. Maybe he's overcompensating for something, like his level of commitment to the stance he's taking. "Okay," the response is warm, cheery.

Logan lets out a breath as he leans forward, angling himself so close his forehead nearly touches yours. He watches you with an openness that's more dizzying than the alcohol in your system. "I mean it."

His proximity is so disorientating you nearly forget that you're meant to respond and not just stare at him.

"Fine," a genuine concession. Nothing else comes to mind, and you can't bring yourself to look away from him. The overwhelming desire to look at him is far from rare, but you're usually better at suppressing it.

You set one of your hands against the space between the two of you. "I'm gonna go get another beer."

He sighs, as if something about the statement has deeply drained him. "You're not."

Your lips part in a mock gasp. "Are you cutting me off?"

The joke seems to ease him, the corner of his mouth pulling itself upwards. "You're drunk."

Please--who gets drunk off of two beers? You narrow your eyes, not sure if you're more offended by the assumption or his hypocrisy. "Am not."

He has the audacity to smile fully. "Then let's keep it that way." The side of his hand moves to rest against the back of your palm. He's--Logan's always so warm. "Don't need to make putting you to bed any harder, princess."

An uneasy warmth begins to crawl its way up your neck. "Y'know you've had twice as much to drink as me, and you're still going."

You press your lips together in an attempt to hide the fact that you're arguing for the sake of it more than out of a desire for more alcohol.

There's a beat of silence as Logan tilts his chin downwards, making the distance between the two of you feel even smaller than it really is. "And when you're my age, you'll get a third beer."

You let yourself openly frown. "You're no fun."

He sighs, attention shifting back to his glass. "Don't pout."

"I'm not," it's a little more directly dishonest than you'd usually be, but the mood seems easy enough for you to get away with it. "I'm just...talking."

Logan watches you for a moment, doubt etched into his expression. "Sure, kid."

You roll your eyes as you shift away, arm stretching forward to place the bottle back on the coffee table. When you lean back, body pressing into the couch, a strangely poignant wave of drowsiness hits you.

The show you had been forcing Logan to watch has been replaced by something bright and loud. The sitcom had been familiar in that slightly off way, the theme song and characters like something out of a recurring childhood dream.

Before your thoughts can snag on the blurriness of your past, you lift a hand. You let your mind give into the draw of the electric current, the two melding until all you have to do to change the channel is flick your wrist. You flick through a few of them before settling on a show you're much more familiar with.

"You're a regular universal remote."

Despite yourself, you smile. The more you've worked on using your powers, the better you've gotten at motor control. Before, sometimes so much as touching something plugged into the wall was enough to make you lose control. "Much cooler than being the person that blew up the toaster."

He laughs once at the memory, the sound low but warm. "Or electrocuting me."

You glare. "I never electrocuted you." It's the truth. Your first few days here had been hectic, the stability you were being offered seemed too good to be true; every instinct in your body begged you to get out before it was too late. But you hadn't hurt anyone.

"But you thought about it." You don't have decent response. When you met Logan, you were running on nothing but adrenaline. "It's okay, I didn't make the best impression."

When the two of you first met, Logan had been...gruff, and maybe defensive in a warranted way, but you can't remember ever not liking him. Maybe that's why you felt more comfortable around him than anyone else, Logan never spoke to you in a way that felt like a facade.

But he doesn't need to know that, so you just shrug. "We're good now, though."

The show cuts to commercial break, an ad for detergent filling the screen. You let yourself relax further into the couch, your head moving to rest against Logan's arm.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "We're good."

You're aware of your blinking, of the weight of your eyelids and the focus needed to pull them back into place. Logan's presence makes it easier to accept the sluggishness and the vulnerability that comes with it. This isn't the first time he's made you feel okay about something like this.

"Logan?" He hums once in acknowledgement. You let out a quiet breath, the words briefly tangling in the back of your throat. "I'm glad you were the one that found me when I was like that."

He's quiet for a moment, and then his hand squeezes yours. "Me, too."

His voice is so quiet it almost feels like an extension of the electricity floating through the air, another thing that's easier to feel than to know. Your eyes fall shut, and you're comfortable enough to let them stay that way.

----

Taglist: @whyausername99

[alesbianperson]

bully!ellie williams x fem!reader pt. 2

summary: Ever since that project that you both worked on, shes been unreasonably mean to you and you have no idea why.

warnings: light smut (or rather just a light make out); some swearwords; very short

authors note: not proofread!; this is honestly the first time i attemted to write anything sexual so please forgive me if this is absolute shit; also sorry part 2 was taking so long, im losing motivation really quickly

part 1

--☆--

"You.. heard all that?"

You just nod quietly, your heart pumping inside your chest. Silence fell over the room, leaving you both in awkward tension. Your mind raced as you tried to say something to break the silence, but before you could think of something not totally stupid, Ellie broke it, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"Look. I didn't mean to be like that, and I know it sounds like a stupid fucking excuse, but I didn't know how else to get your attention." She looked at you, her eyes scanning yours for a reaction.

You didn't know how to respond. A million thoughts rushed through your mind, but none of them seemed to come out in words. The ability to move had, so it felt, lost you and everything suddenly felt dizzy.

"Why?" you finally got out, kinda oblivious to the obvious situation. Your question earned a confused look from Ellie. "Why? Cause I fucking like you!", she paused a moment, "Really. Like the 'i can't stop thinking about you' and 'i almost pass out when you look at me' like."

Oh.

Heat began to rise in your cheeks, and you quickly looked down to hide it. Just before you could open your mouth, Ellie, once again, did it before you. "You don't have to say anything to that, y'know? Let's just forget all that and never talk about it again."

"No," you simply answered, "cause I like the fact that you like me." You paused. "And I like you too." Ellies breath hitched, her eyes sparkling, leaning in closer. "You do?" She smirked, gaining her confidence back. "I do."

With your approval, she closed the gap between you two and started kissing you. Passionate, yet soft, not wanting to take things too far. Your hands found their way around her neck, hers on your waist. You slightly shivered at her touch, whimpering into the kiss which Ellie took as an opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

As Ellie slowly moved her leg up between your legs, you gasped and removed your lips from hers. "Too much?" She asked carefully. You quickly shook your head before connecting your lips again, this time less soft, growing more needy. Quickly, Ellie had her leg between yours again, moving it slightly to cause some friction. "Fuck." You moaned into the kiss, causing Ellie to smile against your lips.

But just as she increased her speed: "What the fuck?" Ellie quickly removed her leg from between yours, turning around. Heat began crawling up your face. "Jesse!" Ellie whisper-yelled. But he just stood there, grinning. Brightly. "I hoped this would happen. But please, next time, close the door. Or better: Lock it." This made the whole situation just more embarrassing in your eyes. "As much as I'd love to let you guys.. carry on with what you were doing, the coach wants to speak to you." He continued, facing Ellie.

She shortly looked at you, flashing a smile, before heading out with Jesse, but not without saying: "We need to continue that." And a wink. At you.

[grey342]

The babysitter

Singledad!Phil x Babysitter!reader

synopsis - There's been an underlying tension between yourself and Phil for a while and he finally decides to do something about it...

warnings - MDNI 18+, Age gap (Phil is in his early thirties and reader in her early twenties), unprotected sex, kinda nipple play, breeding kink and hints of cockwarming.

authors note - ummm hey 😅 I know it’s been SOOO long but I hope you didn’t forget about me! Exam season is rough atm however it is slowly coming to an end (thank god) so I should be back to regular scheduled updates - I’m thinking once every two weeks? Let me know how you guys have been and give me some feedback, I’ve missed you all so much and I can’t wait to write for daddy Phil again 💗

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

"Wanna make one?"

The baby finally settles. Well you say baby, he's nearly three but he'll always be a baby to you. You started babysitting Finley Wenneck when he was 18 months old and it's the best job you've ever had. The pay is great, Fin's very well behaved and his dad is sexy as fuck.

There was no denying Phil Wenneck was a very attractive man, the moment you met him you were immediately entranced by his good looks. However, your relationship was strictly professional.

Although, there were a few moments where you could've sworn it was more than that. Like last week: Phil came home a little earlier than you were expecting, you were stood in the kitchen making a snack when he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

This necessarily out of blue, Phil and you often hugged each other but, this time it felt more intimate in a way. His head rested in your neck and you could've sworn you felt him press a soft peck there. He didn't say anything though, he just got a beer out of the fridge and walked into the living room and that was it.

You look down at Finley's sleeping face and can't help but smile.

"That's how they get you," You jump and yelp quietly, turning quickly you see Phil leaning against the door frame. "look so cute when they're asleep and as soon as their eyes open you're reminded of just how much of a little shit they can be." You let out a sigh of relief and chuckle slightly.

"I disagree, your son is an angel."

"Yeah," he chuckles and walks up behind you, "that's what he wants you to believe."

"Maybe he just doesn't like you." You smirk up at him.

"Hmm, maybe." He hums, looking down at your lips. Feeling flustered you turn back to the sleeping baby.

"He's so adorable."

"Yeah?" Phil leans in close to your ear, "Wanna make one?"

You freeze and slowly turn to look at him, his face shows no sign of teasing. Oh shit he's serious. He begins to ramble;

"I'm serious, I know I don't say it often enough but you're so good to him. Well not only him but me too-"

"Phil-"

"Y'know he's started calling you mom, I know I should stop and tell him no but I can't because it feels right-"

"Phil-"

"I know, I know, I don't wanna scare you off but.. this fits and it feels SO right an-" You shut him up by pressing your lips against his. He wastes no time and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. Deepening the kiss, you throw your arms around his neck.

A little snore interrupts the steamy kiss and you quickly remember the sound asleep baby merely a metre away and reluctantly untangle yourself from him.

"Bedroom." Is all you need to say. He lifts you, you wrap your legs around his middle as the two of you stumble across the hall and into his room.

He throws you down on his bed and kicks the door shut with his foot. He takes in the sight of you sprawled across his sheets. He begins to unbutton his shirt and says only one word;

"Strip." And strip you do, right down to your underwear as Phil does the same.

"Holy fuck," he crawls on top of you, "you're so fucking sexy baby." He starts to kiss your neck and make his way down to your chest. Reaching around your back, he unclasp your bra.

"Shit." He says involuntarily and cups your tits. He starts groping then and leans down to take your left nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," you moan, "Phil please honey."

"Talk to me, tell me what you want." He switches over to the right.

"You, all of you."

He groans pulling down his underwear and leans over to his bedside draw where you grab his arm.

"No condom, please." You plead with him.

"Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me." He pulls you back in for a searing kiss, he slides your underwear over and fully pushes into you. You moan in unison, he breaks away from the kiss.

"Shit, you okay?" You smile and cup his cheek.

"Yeah, never better." He chuckles and slowly starts to glide in and out of you. The only sounds that can be heard are your moans mixed with the sounds of slapping skin.

You reach around to rake your nails down his back, he hisses with pleasure.

"Gonna fill you up," he grunts, "give you my kids you want that huh? Want me to make you a mama?" He speaks through gritted teeth now, his pace quickens.

"Yes, fuck! Please, Phil!" You moan. His hand reaches down to slowly rub on your clit, you feel the knot in your lower stomach start to tighten.

"Yeahh that's it baby clench around me, c'mon cum for me." That's all it takes for you, your legs start to shake and Phil's movements begin to falter.

"Shit." He groans and you feel his cum fill you.

You both begin to come down and he rolls you over, him on his back with you curled into his side.

"I'm not moving 'till i'm sure that shit is in there." you giggle and lean up to kiss his neck. You feel his breathing slow down and begin to hear his soft snores, smiling you let sleep take over you.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Captain Price Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Career sabotage, age gap, virginity kink (?), smut, AFAB Reader, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, mention of power fantasies, Price is a top, sir kink, mentions of male masturbation, toxic behaviour, abhorent behaviour, SERIOUSLY TOXIC BEHAVIOUR!, mention of a gun, description of a wound/injury, mentions of injuries, mention of blood, brief speculation of medical issues, pet names, profanity, etc.

You'd ensnared Price with your dark wit and humour, mirroring much of his own; and the smile you often served him with.

It took a long time - an arduous process you didn't even know you were engaging in - but you had Price wrapped around your finger within a year.

And he suspected that his liking of you - merely brief flickers of fantasies to ease him off to sleep or to get himself off - ran much deeper than he initially suspected.

Sure, he liked you; he worked with you, saw you every day - he'd think something was amiss if he didn't like you.

Though, that initial companionable enjoyment he - and the rest of the 141 - got from your fresh perspectives and attentiveness caused something in Price to...change.

He felt the shift, knew its symptoms, yet never found himself falling victim to it.

Until now.

He brushed it off at first, keeping his chatter with you tame, dull, if anything, to slow the spread, to stop it.

But he couldn't deny, as the months went on, how you made him feel, regardless of how hard he tried to push you away.

You made him feel safe, truly safe, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Sure, he was a big guy, more than perfectly capable of killing when necessary (and unnecessary), but that didn't mean he wasn't subject to the odd adrenaline rush here and there, a bullet wound to the thigh, a gouge to the shoulder.

And despite being younger than him, you were always there to patch him up, to see to him. It was your job. It was inevitable.

You knew that, Price knew that - yet something inside prevented him from believing that your stray touches, the tender look in your eyes, the soft tone of your voice, were merely a symptom of your profession.

They were evidence of your fancying of him, too.

And he decided to let you know that he knew.

It started off with looks - longer than usual. Longing.

In the common room, passing each other in the halls, during conversations.

He'd tease you from time to time, just to see your face break out in a flush of colour.

"Y'know what, (Y/N)?" he'd say, leaning in across the cafeteria table. "You have beautiful eyes."

If you managed to bypass your own embarrassment and shoot a compliment back, albeit sarcastic-- "Not as mysterious as yours, Captain,"-- he'd fall for you harder.

Btw, calling him "Captain," or "Sir," makes all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock.

Has jacked off to his power fantasies before now.

Man's a top, it's just in his nature to want authority over everyone else (you).

After that, he started being more physical with you.

He decided to teach you how to use a gun - "For your own safety," of course.

It was all (mostly) a ploy to have a plausible excuse to be pressed up behind you, arms around yours, head resting on your shoulder as he praised you for your aim.

And to hear you yelp, to feel you graze just the right parts of him whenever you recoiled after firing, into his chest and...elsewhere.

Sent him absolutely over the edge - used it as fuel for his increasingly frequent self-love sessions.

Though, he did actually want you to be able to protect yourself when it came down to it.

But, he always sees himself as your protector; your man on whom you can depend for anything.

One evening, disinfecting a wound on his abdomen as he sat on the edge of one of the operating tables, you and Price got to talking.

"Pretty nasty cut here, Captain," you said, wiping an antiseptic cotton pad across Price's wound.

He winced, though kept the light smile on his face.

"Ah well, all worth it to come and see you,"

You shot him a look of sarcasm, though smiled, finding the sincerity in his words.

"I hope you're not getting injured just for me!"

Your statement was jestful, but the sentiment was genuine.

Price's eyes squinted in a smile.

"What if I was?" he said, his hands sliding to his knees, ignoring the pulsing in his wound and coming eye level with you as you rose.

You were taken aback, though at least tried to look like you'd regained your composure.

You scoffed, discarding the bloodied cotton into a nearby bin.

"Ah yes, a big, strong man like you can't possibly be killed by a mere bullet just to come and see the medic."

Price felt something in him clench, tighten.

He gave a huff of a laugh.

"You'd be surprised the things a man'll do to see a pretty woman."

Your back was to Price, gathering his shirt and hat. You faltered, unsure as to whether you'd heard him correctly.

You shook your head, choosing to humour him. To not take him seriously.

Big mistake.

Price took your: "You know, you could always just come and see me without getting hurt," as gospel.

That night, he imagined you, pleased to see him (in more ways than one), begging to take him.

He could hear your voice chanting his name, moaning and panting as he had you bent over his desk, slamming into you.

After that, he took you up on your offer, visiting you on evenings he knew you weren't busy, where your greatest priority would be paperwork.

You'd talk, get to know each other more and more, you discovering his penchant for World War literature, and he of your interest in video games.

He often compared his tastes to yours, ruminating on how much he could teach you if you'd let him.

You were younger than him by a good margin, yet already so intelligent, so...independent.

Price wanted to change that.

He wanted you to depend on him, and only him, for everything.

One evening, he watched you at the bar with the rest of the Task Force.

Soap seemed rather pleased to see you, sidling up beside you and holding you by your waist, pulling you into his chest.

It all appeared as playful teasing - as many of the Task Force members often subjected you to - but to Price, it spelled a bigger picture.

That night, after you'd returned to Base, Price took his chance.

He knew you hadn't been drinking, so you were of sound mind.

He knew he had to act now.

"Y'know," he said, watching you fumble with your keycard, trying to re-enter the medical wing. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be alone on nights like these."

He took a drag of a cigar you'd just noticed he had: him always being equipped with one made you blind to when he was smoking so close to you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking up at him briefly before managing to swipe the right side of your card.

You entered the building, and held the door open for Price. He followed behind.

"Cold. Lonely." His voice was low, vibrating at such a frequency that had you feeling hot. You wondered how he could possibly have this effect on you.

"Who says I'm lonely?" you said, flashing him a smile. You continued walking to your sleeping quarters. Price knew; he'd memorised the layout of the medical wing. Your route.

"I have you."

You meant it more as a compliment to his character rather than an invitation. But Price saw it how he wanted to.

"Yeah," his voice was deeper now, somehow. Lower, as if trying to reach beneath your skirt. "You do."

Price was literally living the dream after that.

No, literally: he had you bent over the edge of your bed, ploughing into you, with you practically crying into the covers beneath him.

His grip on your hips was harsh, months of pent-up sexual frustration being pumped into you.

And that wasn't the only thing Price was planning on pumping into you.

He came to realise, through your months of friendship, that he loved you in a way he hadn't felt about anyone in a long time.

He felt...protective of you - of your innocence.

Despite the horrific injuries you'd had to deal with in your line of work, you maintained your somewhat carefree demeanour.

That, and Price knew you'd never taken anyone before.

Your years of studying, training and working wouldn't allow for it; both you and Price knew that.

And here he was, stretching you out on his thick cock, hitting crevices you'd never even felt before.

You were a doctor - a medic - you knew how sex worked.

And you knew, from your years of textbook study, that you were close. And that Price likely was, too.

"C-Captain- cu-- ah!" Price gripped your chin, forcing you to look back at him.

"That's it," he said, panting, sweating, twitching. "Say my name again."

"P-Price-"

Price landed a slap on your backside, harsh enough to send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Try again, Princess."

He felt you clench around him at the name. His lip twitched up in a smirk.

"Captain..." you breathed out. You knew what you wanted to say - needed to say.

"Don't cum inside me," you pleaded, eyes wide and hazy. "Please."

You didn't have birth control to-hand, and you'd heard too many miracle stories about women still getting pregnant regardless of the aid of a pill regardless to risk it.

Price gave no acknowledgement of your worry, instead continuing to slam into you.

He was relentless, forcing you to your end quicker than you could register it.

You cried out, voice obscured by the covers, as your orgasm tore through you, gripping the sheets as Price was gripping your hips.

He continued to pump into you, prolonging your orgasm, keeping the mist settling over your mind from dissipating. Keeping your judgement from telling him to pull out.

It didn't occur to you until it was too late.

Price groaned, guttural and primal, and something hot and thick filled you.

Price's grip slid up to your waist, one hand settling on the small of your back and the other settling on your stomach, rubbing it.

Both panting and coming down from your high, your mind cleared.

First came the shame - the crushing reality that you'd just had sex with your superior, the man who'd near enough employed you - then, the realisation of a bigger issue.

"You...you didn't pull out..." Your voice was soft, throat dry with incessant panting and moaning.

Between breaths, Price uttered: "Don't worry, Princess. Got the pill."

Relief washed over you, then logic. Of course, why on earth would your superior risk you getting pregnant? Then again, why would he have contraceptives to-hand? This was a military base.

Little did you know.

Price did end up giving you a pill soon afterwards. A placebo, nothing more. Not that you knew that.

You and Price went on with your...relationship?...after your encounter.

You were confused, to say the least; unsure of how to approach Captain Price now that you'd grown to know him so intimately.

Yet he almost acted as if you hadn't; as if the whole thing were nothing more than a dream.

Almost.

The longing gazes and half-smiles let you know that he was still very much aware of all that you'd done together, though instead of the room thickening with tension whenever he was around, you felt shame. Ashamed.

You knew you couldn't undo what had been done, but you could go on and pretend it never happened - the only way you could think to put it behind you.

In the meantime, Price seemed so occupied these days, having important meetings with people you didn't even know or care to ask about, so he had little opportunity to remind you of your experience with him.

Though, he reminded himself of it every day - the fact that he'd been your first, the first (and only) to claim you.

The thought crossed his mind whenever he was fortunate enough to see you in the hallways, whenever he came to you with a scuff or a scrape.

A month passed. And that's where it all ended for you.

The sickness began, your stomach turning more mornings than not, leaving you breathless and fatigued before the day even began.

Your energy seemed to drain quicker, too, leaving you a ghoul of yourself on some days.

The other 141 members seemed to take note, asking you if you were okay, if you were eating enough.

All except Price.

The way he looked at you now - when word of your health's sudden downturn spread - was masked, as if he knew something. Like he knew whatever forbidden knowledge he possessed hid in his eyes, which he kept cold and unreadable.

Eventually, you decided to get tested for...well, everything. You got blood tests, tracked your symptoms, tried to make sense of this sudden onset of sickness.

You considered it was something you'd been eating, but you ate more or less the same meals before the sickness began.

You considered every possibility - blood disorder, stomach bug, liver issues - all except that which you hadn't daned the most obvious.

And when your test results returned, you felt your world shatter.

On your report, in a box in a long table, was a sign. The only confirmation of any illness on that entire report.

Pregnant: Positive.

Your worst fear had been confirmed. And now, you had to confirm it to Price.

Skittering through the hall, you found his office.

Surprisingly, there were no voices on the other end now, usually emanating from this room, muffled and secretive. 'Associates of Price' was the only identification you gave them.

You knocked, was told to enter. You obeyed.

Entering the room, you noticed that Price wasn't smoking his signature cigar, the air of the room clear, unobstructed by smoke.

Price had his legs resting on the edge of his desk, a perfect image of laxity while you, an homage to stress.

Your breath shuttered, and you rubbed one hand with the other. Price remained motionless, as if poised for your answer. Poised for attack.

You couldn't think straight, instead saying the first thing that came into your mind.

"You're not smoking, Captain." You tried to smile, but the attempt was diluted by your fear. Price only gave a knowing smile.

"Mmh. Wouldn't be good for the baby, would it?" The casualty with which he said it almost disguised the statement itself. You smiled, looking down at your hands, then your gaze snapped up to meet his.

His smile broadened, as if he were hearing the news of your pregnancy for the first time.

He took his legs off the desk and stood, his figure's shadow almost reaching you.

"You've...read my report, then?" you tried, cautiously. You didn't want to entertain the hundred other possibilities you were considering.

"No." Price's answer was immediate, firm. He walked around his desk, hands behind his back, and stopped before you.

"Then...how could you possibly..."

The realisation had been there, nestled between your other speculations like a pea between mattresses, pricking you, making you uncomfortable.

Price brought a hand to the side of your face, holding it.

His large hands would have, at any other time, brought you great comfort. But now...

You took a step back, one hand over where your child was, the other ready to defend you.

Only now did Price's smile falter. His gaze became colder, serious.

"Now, now, (Y/N), this isn't all doom and gloo-"

"You gave me a fake pill, didn't you!" It wasn't a question, rather an accusation.

Price sighed, rubbing his beard.

You stepped back, inching towards the door.

"You- You knocked me up on purpose!"

"Now don't go throwing 'round accusations like that-"

"Why not? It's true!"

Price lunged at you, covering your mouth with his hand. With the other he pressed a button on the wall - a big red one that looked like it should never be pressed.

Two soldiers came in - makeshift security guards.

Price handed you to them.

"Put her in isolation; she'll be shipped back tomorrow."

And now, in your cell, rocking back and forth, you cried.

You truly believed this to just be a nightmare - nothing more.

And it only worsened when Price visited you.

He pulled up a chair, sitting before you in your cell.

He leaned forward on his thighs as he had done that evening on the operating table.

"It's for your own good-"

"Oh, fuck off."

You were in no mood to barter, to absolve him of his crimes.

Price's brow twitched, yet he remained composed.

"I'm trying to be reasonable here, (Y/N)."

You scoffed. "You're not reasonable. You act on impulse, on flights of fancy. And this is just another byproduct of that."

Price looked somewhat offended.

"You think this is a flight of fancy?" he said. "You think you are just a flight of fancy?"

He pulled his chair closer to your cell, and leaned in.

"I have put more thought and consideration into you than I have done any other person, any other operation-"

"And look where that's gotten us."

"(Y/N), let me speak-"

"Or what?" you challenged. You came up the the glass of the cell, close enough that your breath fogged against it.

"Or what? You're gonna kill me?"

Price shot you a look that made the doubt flicker in your mind - that he actually would.

Price sighed, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm doing this to keep you safe."

Despite the overwhelming urge to interrupt him, to scream bloody murder at him, you let him talk. For now.

Seeing you were finally letting him explain himself, Price continued, his features softening.

"The military's no place for a girl like you, (Y/N)."

"I'm a woman. Not some complacent little schoolgirl fawning over a teacher-"

"Then what would you call how you've been actin' around me, hm?"

A smug look crossed his face. You sought to correct that.

"What do you mean? You pursued me!"

"Then how do you account for all our time together?"

You racked your brain for what he could have possibly been talking about. The only times you'd spent time with him voluntarily felt - mostly - purely platonic. To you, at least.

"Those touches," he said, nigh whispered, his voice sibilant. "Those looks. Those conversations--"

"You mean me doing my job?"

"Oh, come now, don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"Captain-"

"Call me John."

You took a deep breath, trying to compose both yourself and your response.

"John, listen, I don't know what I've done to you, but whatever it is, surely I didn't warrant...this."

"You--" John looked at you as if you'd shot him. "You think this is condemnation?"

You felt confusion bubble in your mind, dyeing your thoughts with the colour of uncertainty.

"You don't?"

John sighed deeply, rubbed his temple.

"This," he began, "is to protect you."

"From what?"

"Your job."

You threw your hands up in the air, feeling as if you'd gotten nowhere - that your questions still hadn't been answered.

"I love my job, John! I love taking care of people, I love the 141, I love-"

"Me?"

Your breath caught in your throat. The look in John's eye was serious as death.

You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn't believe that he mean it - that he loved you. After all, you didn't love him.

"I just don't see what you're trying to protect me from, John." You skirted around his question, folding your arms across your chest.

John acknowledged your answer by not acknowledging it at all.

"You know the risks of my line of work - of our duty,"

He stared dead into your eyes and you couldn't look away.

"And I can't - won't - let you be a victim of it."

"A victim?" Your voice was airy, inflated with disbelief.

"I chose this profession, I have bled for it-"

"Which is exactly my point! I don't want you getting hurt anymore-"

"Why do you care?-"

"Because I love you!"

Price's voice thundered, making your very bones quiver.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You stepped back, more stumbled, the weight of Price's statement shooting past you like a javelin. Just missing you.

Too much ran through your mind after that, making you nigh-unresponsive to John.

Everything that occurred afterwards became a cesspool of moments and emotions, barely strung together by a thread of logic.

A caretaker came in shortly after, telling you, in a voice that was none of which you knew, yet possessing a sentiment you recognised immediately as Price's plan:

"We'll be excusing you from your medical obligations until a year after your child's birth, after which you'll be free to return to work--"

Even through the buzzing of your own anxiety, a flicker of hope lit within you.

"--given that your superior authorises your return."

Aaand it was snuffed out.

Your heart sank, nerves frying, mind going blank.

So this was his scheme, you thought.

24 hours later, an aircraft descended from the heavens to pluck you from reality. And Price was there, over your shoulder, providing little comfort.

He had a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it, squeezing it.

His breath was hot on your neck, unfazed by the cold breeze ushered your way by the blades of the helicopter.

"I'll be with you soon," he told you, uttering it into your ear. Even the cotton-eared effect of the crushing wind and metal couldn't mask his words, his voice.

It sent shivers down your spine. Unsettled you.

Once released from the grip and watchful eye of the Captain, you sprung into action, pleading with the attendee to get help, to do something - that Price was not the valiant hero everyone thought him to be--

And the attendee did nothing.

In fact, they seemed to be on his side, already knowledgeable of Price's misdeeds and not caring for how they affected his victims.

Though, they did admit, he'd never done anything like this before.

"Seems like you're special," they said, leaning back into their seat.

Mortified, and truly alone, you sank back, stomach heavy with the weight of your reality and the life growing inside you.

You were taken home after that, but you knew it was not truly your home.

Price had been here, one way or another; you could tell by how the house no longer felt like you - smelled like you.

And when you checked the crevices and corners, you knew why.

Cameras. Few and far between, but obvious if you knew where to look.

Either Price didn't know you as well as he thought, or he knew you too well; knew that you'd find the cameras, a reminder of your binding to him.

Now and forever. With a man you didn't think capable of such cruelty, nor such "love".

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[directdogman]

Hey dogman, idk if you answered this

Who, out of both DSAF and Dialtown, was your favourite to write and/or create?

It's very hard for me to pick favourites with my characters because I don't tend to give characters a lot of screen-time unless I find a character interesting or fun to write. You've caught me in a talkative mood, so warning, there's an onslaught of text coming!

DSaF: Dave was the most fun to write for, as I remember it. I mean, the guy is the walking personification of chaos and even when he's being constructive (eg, rigging robots to do insane stuff), it's usually in a destructive capacity. Dave will do LITERALLY ANYTHING but contribute to society in meaningful/valuable ways.

In terms of what character-writing I was most 'proud' of, I was also pretty happy with Dr Henry Miller, as a villain. Namely the research he embarked on, described in his logs in DSaF 3 (which the fandom evidently agreed with, as I got really strong feedback on those logs.)

One issue a lot of people (including myself) have with canon William Afton is that he's this kind of mad scientist character but his research doesn't really seem to be... idk, going anywhere? Other than using remnant (soul nectar?) to make kids possess robots, it's kind of a mystery how he got to this point he did from running a bad fast food restaurant. William gets fleshed out motivations in TSE and even then, it mainly revolves around his relationship with Henry Emily, iirc. It's actually pretty accurate to how real serial killers think, imo, but there's a pretty wide berth between this kind of serial killer and becoming a sci-fi fast-food mad scientist... So, I decided to try to bridge that gap.

DSaF Henry's logs actually mention where the idea for his research came from, namely the fact that he existed in a world with normal scientific rules just like ours and seemingly discovered something supernatural, and he approaches it like an amoral scientist would - trying to figure out how to figure out more about the fabric of reality using the newly discovered phenomenon of possession. The 'joy of creation' phrase people pulled from Golden Freddy's phone call in FNaF 1 is given context - Henry is trying to find out what's on the other side (and eventually, how existence itself formed.)

There's other aspects to his character that make him more interesting too, like the implication that his research is partially an excuse for him to act on an underlying sadism (with scenes implying that he inflicts damage on others than can't be justified as assisting with his research.) His background as a dissident/quack laughing-stock scientist (thanks to pushing his soul theory in a best-selling book, which is considered pseudoscience) BEFORE he embarked on his journey to become a fast food tycoon also makes it less farfetch'd that he'd be capable of y'know, harvesting human souls intentionally to continue his research?

I had more for the character on paper that people haven't seen but some of it wasn't revealed due to it feeling a bit too disturbing to publish. None of the contents would've been all that controversial, more just too tonally disturbing when written about in detail (like a omitted part from his backstory/lore post where he managed to pick up a hazy audio of his wife + son's crying from the radio of the car his wife/son drowned in and reacted with genuine elation upon realizing he'd discovered a new scientific phenomenon (as this was the first time Henry witnessed soul-possession.)) Yeah.

I don't feel much of a need to revisit Henry as a character because as a series villain, he was pretty thoroughly-written and he did his job effectively... And his fate was well earned! (He even got an epilogue short-story a few years back, further cementing his fate!)

Dialtown: From the characters/writing that the fandom has seen? Tough to say. I genuinely really like every DT character. Gingi and Mayor Mingus are two of my favourite characters to write for because they're both really insistent and react to adversity in a really comically indignant way. Mingus is more like Gingi than she cares to admit in very specific ways, which is the core hypocrisy of her character - she's one of the most abnormal things IN Dialtown, and spends the game on a quest opposing abnormality that she, herself, can't stand.

Many absolute rulers have debilitating physical and/or mental cruxes and despite that, usually have the final say on what is/isn't okay, often guided by arbitrary preferences. It's funny to remember all of the ancient kings and emperors who dictated how others should act, talk and even think, when very many of them themselves were anything except a good reflection of their own subjects! It's an irony I quite enjoy and leads to a fun character to write for!

My favourite DT writing is probably some of my Callum Crown speech drafts. I have a definite bias here since Crown's character is based on many figures I've encountered in my own reading (and his story relates to topics I enjoy reading about.) A lot of that is real nerd shit that wouldn't be interesting to 99.9% of DT fans (like a long conversation where Crown + Milt discuss a campaign speech Milt wrote for Crown and they bicker about if the wording/arguments used are truly honest.) Again, not super relevant to Dialtown-proper, but it explains a lot about why the world of DT ended up the way it did.

Realistically, the story of Dialtown itself is basically a weird little epilogue to a story that ended decades upon decades ago, centered around a bunch of small-town nobodies circling around the carcass of the last surviving main character of the old story.

I'm also very happy with Gingi's character partially because I know more about Gingi's past/future than you guys do. Gingi has such rotten memory that Gingi's backstory before DT's story begins is basically a complete mystery. Thanks to Gingi never getting close enough to any humans before laying its eggs, there's nobody in Gingi's life that can fill in the gaps. Companionship means so much to Gingi because prior to meeting The Gang, Gingi is aware of a massive and unknown block of time that's a complete mystery precisely because Gingi had nobody in its life. To Gingi, this time was basically akin to being non-sentient or dead, and Gingi would never go back.

While I was making DSaF, I drafted a ton of other stories on paper. I considered making most of them, but decided not to for various reasons, despite getting some solid feedback from collaborators. Bits of almost all of those project ideas made it into DT, with Gingi having traits from several other main characters I prototyped years and years ago. This includes where Gingi came from and what exactly Gingi is. I don't want to mislead people into thinking Gingi is more important than it is, like Gingi is the key to unlocking DT lore (I promise there's a LOT of aimless scuttling/devouring in Gingi's past and relatively little else!) BUT: Of everything from those old scrapped projects, Gingi is what I decided deserved to survive the most. And that has to count for something.

One day I'd love to make sequels to DT and perhaps explore some of the stuff I've described above, like why the hell the world of DT is the way it is or maybe where the hell Gingi spawned from. Thanks

[letstevengrantsleep]

Bad Girl - ft. Eddie Munson (pt.1)

older!rockstar!Eddie Munson x younger!reader

summary: you've been working on a new album so contact Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin to feature on a song

word count: 1,205

warnings: age gap (reader is 20s, Eddie is 40s/50s)

a/n: I heard Bad Girl by Avril Lavigne for the first time in absolutely forever a few days ago and I can't get the ides out of my head that Eddie would go absolutely feral if a young girl asked him to feature on that song with him. THERE WILL BE A PT.2 TO THIS!!!

masterlist

You'd messaged his agent months ago, rang his production company too, just to see if you could get a hold of him. There wasn't much hope really, you knew he was a busy guy. Corroded Coffin had just announced another tour that was starting in a few months, there was no way he'd have time to sit round and entertain a kid like you.

It was a month later when you got the call. It was his agent, frantic and exhausted on the other end of the phone telling you to expect Eddie the next day. No warning. Just like that.

-

As you open the door to your at home studio you're greeted by the Eddie Munson, smirking down at you as he licks the edge of his rolled cigarette.

"Hey doll face," he drawls, "heard you wanted to see me."

"Almost thought you were ignoring me, to be honest." You smile, letting him through and watching as he immediately makes himself comfortable on one of the cushy office chairs by your desk.

"I nearly did," he admits, "but my agent made me listen to your stuff and well..." Eddie smirks, "I'm a sucker for a girl with good taste like you. Got a song you want me on?" He asks, his gaze lingering a little too long on your figure as you walk away from him.

"Yeah," you get right to it, not wanting to waste the opportunity to have him here with you, "I'll let you read through what I've got so far.I have a vision but honestly I'm willing to edit and rewrite if it comes to it."

You pass Eddie a stack of notes and lyrics and sit back nervously as he reads through them, watching as he looks over the lyrics and raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "Hmm... you might have yourself a hit here, little rock star."

I smile bright at him and start rambling, still so unsure about sharing my work with people even after all this time. "I just wanted to get dirty with it, y'know? I'm fed up of holding back in my writing for the sake of what people might think about me."

"Well," Eddie smirks, "you've definitely done that. These lyrics... I don't think anyone's going to see you as anything other than dirty ever again."

He stands and goes to lean against the wall next to the mic, watching as I ready the equipment for his takes, trying to busy myself so that he doesn't see the blush on my cheeks. "So," I start, trying to change the subject, "I've already recorded the majority of my vocals, I just need you to jump in from the start here with that first line."

"You ready for take one?" That shit eating, signature grin on his face he secures some headphones over his ears and watches as you throw him a thumbs up, slightly distracted with all the equipment in front of you.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the way your body would react to Eddie singing that first line. You set the track, clicked a few buttons, and sat back while you listened to him drawl into the mic.

Just lay your head in daddy's lap, you're a bad girl... His eyes flick to yours as he sings, a smirk on his face as he does.

After a few takes Eddie stands back and shook his head, watching as you smile at your computer screen.

"Oh, baby, you're lucky I can control myself with these lyrics." He teases, running his hand through his hair as he adjusts his headphones.

You can't help it when you burst out laughing, becoming flustered under his gaze. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Munson, you're old enough to be my dad."

"Hey," he starts, defensive, "old doesn't automatically mean that I don't look at you the same way a guy half my age would." Eddie laughs, wetting his lower lip, "I'm a rock star doll, I like young hot girls. And right now that's you."

Rolling your eyes, you raise your eyebrow at him. "Just sing, Eddie."

As the takes continue you get him to ad lib some lines between your vocals and quickly begin to loose yourself in his vocals. They're so perfect for the vision you have for this album you can't help but smile. Eddie's voice has such an edge, filled with confidence and sex, and you have a feeling that a lot of these ad libs are coming straight from his deep fantasies.

"Chills, holy shit." You smile as he finishes up the last bits of singing. "You know, once this song releases we should do it live."

"Oh you better believe we are," Eddie grins wide, "I have a very specific stage outfit in mind for this song. And it's going to be very revealing."

One wink from Eddie and you're practically on your knees.

"You'll see it at the show, yeah baby? I'll have you wondering what might happen once we're off the stage."

Fuck, okay.

You try not to let it floor you and instead roll your eyes and shove him.

"You're bad, Munson, but I totally agree. I'll have to rethink my image for this one, go for something dark to fit in with you rock stars."

This makes Eddie smile, "oh come on, bad girl. Why says you have to change to be a rock star? The rules of rock'n'roll and all that."

Agreeing with him, you sit down and wait for him to pull up a chair next to you so you can listen back to the track. Eddie has a wide smirk on his face as he listens, "fuck, doll face, I think we've fuckin' done it, yeah? You finally let your bad side out." He winks again, sliding his hand up your leg "good girl gone bad thanks to old man Munson, ey?"

Watching as he laughs, you lean back in your chair, pull your leg back and smile at him, "easy tiger, keep it in your pants yeah?"

Watching him, your breath hitches as he leans back and smirks again, "what's a little more waiting, hey baby? I'm only teasing... Just a matter of time until I really teach you how to break those good girl rules." A grin splits across his face, "I can't wait."

The song wraps itself up and before you know it, it's time for him to get going. Standing at the door with him, you speak up.

"So, I'll talk with your agent about getting me onto a Corroded Coffin gig, right?"

"Of course," he grins, "and I'll make sure we work together more in the future. Maybe even in some more... intimate environments?" He jokes, tongue in cheek as he raises his eyebrows at you.

"I'll be there, rock star." I smile back.

Eddie's lips turn up into a cocky smile as he leans back against the door frame, a light blush dusting along his cheeks and neck.

"The show? Or the intimate setting?" He asks with a wink. "I'm fine with either, or maybe both?"

I roll my eyes, "the show, pervert." You joke, "I'll see you at the show."

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part three

"the only thing i'll ever ask of you, you've gotta promise not to stop when i say when," she sang.

6.8k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 3 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. mentions of consensual non-con (spoiler: it's more that reader is nervous and is scared things will fuck up, so she tells joel not to stop if that tension in her rises). survivalist!joel, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, introduction of safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv (unprotected), cum eating (whoops), biting, crying, fluff, angst, READER RIDES A HORSE! no use of y/n.

summary: within your second week at joel's, there are things you are forced to look within yourself. joel helps you through it.

A/N: i really appreciate all of the notes and comments for this series! i didn't know where it would lead when i wrote that first chapter, but it's all overwhelming and sweet! i know the last chapter was more plot, but i feel progression with these twooooo 👀

"I don't think it's trust." "Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it. "I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum. Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he’s thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He’s deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs. “Come to bed.” It’s simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel’s way of asking. He don’t. But he gives you room to make the choice. You don’t recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light. Beginning your second week, you don’t sleep on the couch anymore.

You're skittish when reach the top of the loft.

What if he expected something from you? What if it was more than what you were willing to give?

What did you want to give?

"It's nice up here," an attempt to purchase to any sort of gravity. Anything to make sense of just how you ended up in the situation in the first place. The feeling of Joel's lips still very much present on your own.

But your eyes stay at the ground, more in your own head than you are able to look at the man you're in front of. Joel tilts his head to catch your gaze.

"You sayin' that to me, or y'erself?"

"Oh... uh... to you. To you." You flash a crooked, but distant smile.

"Hey," Joel hushes, walks over to you, his frame seeming somehow even larger in the petite space. "If this is too much, we can get you back down there. Y'know. Extra blankets."

"No–" you object so quickly you have to clear your throat. "I mean... no. I want to stay. Just..."

"Hadn't shared a bed with someone?"

"Not in a long time." You think of your past lover. The warmth the two of you made together under makeshift tents and old buildings with shitty furniture. Taking turns sleeping while keeping an eye out for danger. This was different, and so were the circumstances.

Joel walks over to what you presume is at least the start of his side of the bed before his inevitable migration to the centre of it at night, and gets undressed until he's left in his boxers. Unlike when the two of you had sex and he wasn't wearing anything under his jeans. It was like he didn't know you were gonna be up there with him tonight.

"We'll take it slow, if that's what you want." Climbing into bed, Joel opens the opposing side of the blankets for you. His hair slick back from your fingers combing through it downstairs. Orbs seeking to learn your quiet demeanor. He looks sweet. Patient, even.

How could you say no to that? Not when he's being so compassionate. And certainly not when he's giving you the choice.

The temptation to be vulnerable could kill you. Could be dangerous.

Then again, the situations you continuously put yourself in before you met Joel had more consequences than getting in this man's bed. A man who was shifting your perspective. He didn't seem like any other person that entered your life only to leave it.

You choose to ignore the expiration date in a few short weeks.

So you abandon your jeans. Neatly fold them in a chair tucked away in the corner of the room. Everything in slow motion to quell the reality of your emotions towards the man you currently have your back to. The man who made you feel melted and was being uncharacteristically open with you long before whiskey was involved.

Not that the whiskey mattered, you weren't really feeling its effects anymore anyway. This experience had you both to a sober, cognitive state. You had control of yourself considering how out of control you felt on the inside.

In your underwear you stand with a blue cotton t-shirt that just grazed the crease of your bottom and your exhales are shakier than you'd like to admit.

Because if you admit it, then it's true.

If you admit it, he could have a lot more control over you than you knew what to do with.

"Joel," you sound faraway when you break the silence. Back still to him, you tilt your chin at your shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. You can't believe what you're about to say.

"If I tell you to stop, I don't want you to listen," Tears wick at your eyes, blinking them away rapidly before turning to face Joel directly. You can't bring yourself to look at him, yet.

And he's silent.

"Because if we start this... it–it's not gonna be easy for me," you your hands, shaking them off as if the energy could ease by doing it. Pleased when it kind of works. "I'm not gonna be easy, and I don't mean sexually...," you laugh pitifully, "My impulses may make me want to stop. From what I've... god I sound so pathetic, from what I've been through." Teeth grit, tears fall, "It could be too much. And, too–," sentences chop, "I want this. If we start this I don't think I could stop. Which sounds counterintuitive, but... yeah."

You want to fucking vomit from exposing yourself this way. Your mind swirling from the brain break you just gave yourself. Did any of it make sense? Did you come all the way up the ladder just to ruin any chance of being close to him? Why did you want to be close to him? You feel like an idiot, to put it crassly. A credulous girl making hasty decisions only to retrieve back into complacency.

These thoughts flood your mind and you're sure the storm is evident as it crosses your brow. So caught up in forbidding your heart to find resolution that you can't see what's in front of you.

What's been in front of you, if only you'd pluck it.

When you finally land on him, he looks concerned. Like he's taking in every word you say and committing it to memory. He doesn't move from his spot, but he does sit up straighter. Body language letting you know he is open, but not withdrawing.

"You want... this," he repeats you, but in his voice it sounds more seductive. Did you say it this seductively? "And you want me to keep going if you say no...,"

"Sounds kinda worse when you say it out loud." You mumble.

"You trust me."

That makes your face screw up. Shoulders creep towards your ears, the bridge of your nose collides on itself.

"Trust. I don't... I don't do that."

"Well, what else would y'call this request?"

Climbing on the edge of the bed, you sit on it in contemplation. What else could this be? Surveying the room, you come back to him in your line of sight and the furrow of his brow – soft, but covetous – makes you swallow hard.

You have two choices: hit the wall you put up. The one you'd been hitting every day for a week, or you could push through it.

"I don't think it's trust."

"Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it.

"I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum.

Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

This simple act triggers your fight or flight, but you choose to stay and confront this. It helped that any of your other thoughts were ripped from you. All there ever could be was the thumping hum of him in your hippocampus, burning your memories alive. Joel.

"Taking all this in, so well, angel. I know it's for a reason, but I need you to say it. And I need you to mean it. If you want this as bad as you do," his nose brushes against the tip of yours, "you can do it."

It's definitely not the magic of him that clouds your mind. It's more of the fact that this human in front of you, someone who could have killed you, could have just run you off after fucking you – is showing devotion in making sure you find this. That you use your voice. Like he's dangling a key right in front of you, and all you have to do is tell him the truth.

A key to your paradise.

Staring at his lips, you tempt forward, but he pulls away just a centimetre. Not so fast, not until you give me what I want.

You exhale through your nose in reflection. Close your eyes like you're about to jump, and maybe you are.

Jumping off into nothing.

Worse, jumping into something.

His hand moves to the side of your neck, and that causes your own hand to move over his. As small as you feel in his grasp, you try to hold him, too.

"I don't know how this happened," you mutter like you're cursing yourself, but your eyes open. Melting into Joel's touch. "I don't know how you did it, but I... I trust you."

It doesn't register immediately that you are holding your breath as soon as you say it. Half expecting the world to explode, or eight thousand clickers eat at your flesh. Something bad because any time you let someone in, something bad happened. Your superstitions getting the best of you.

But there is no earthquake. No slew of cordyceps-infested human shells scurrying up the stairs– well, ladder.

It's softer. It's solid. It's Joel wrapping you up in his arms, making light work in picking you up to land you gently on the bed that you soon realise is more comfortable than it looks.

Joel's face is a mix of admiration and determination. You can see by the flare of his nostrils that he's proud of you. And you don't know why, but basking under his pride brings a sense of peace you'd long forgotten. It wasn't that you needed his stare to appreciate yourself, but there was no mistaking the safety it gave you.

Your worry doesn't simply melt, though. You meant what you said in that you weren't sure you could do this. Legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his frame, and your breath hitches when he takes the pillow from behind you and guides your head down onto it. Treating you like a delicate thing makes you wonder what it would be like if you did soften. If you did allow yourself to become malleable beneath the grasp of someone so new, but had such hold on you. Not for him, but for yourself. What would it be like to trust? Fully. Under conditions that were so harsh outside the two of you in this moment. Could it be done?

The chatter in your mind stops at the drop of a hat when Joel leans down to kiss you. Even more curious than downstairs, your bodies find it easy to meld together.

You're grateful for Joel's lips to dim the thoughts reeling of what could or couldn't happen. He fills your senses, facial hair brushing against your features, and you're amazed at how that pout of his sends prickles to your skin. How skilled he is in wielding your mind to quiet, and your core to pay attention. All of the blood rushing downward in your haze.

Joel's tongue is the first to tempt in. It brushes into the tangle of your kiss. It's cliche to say it feels like heaven, but you imagine that's what it is like if you had to guess. Like a quiet white, nothing else but the feeling of him and your breaths taking up space as you give yourself permission to move your hands. Fingers snake up his hair, the backs of your knuckles brushing over the old scar at his left cheek down to his jaw. You feel him shudder above you, and wrap his large paw around your wrists to stop you. It makes your heart skip to feel how tender is he knowing you have felt his strength.

It's a secret shared between the two of you that he can be this disarming. And you keep it tight to your chest.

You focus on the heat emitting from his skin. Like he's burning the candle at both ends and his stomach creates all this centralised heat. Your bare legs brush against each other and the sensation from this and his weight brings you direct, but silent communication that this feels good to him, too. That he needs this as much as you do, and wants you. You yet to decipher if it's merely physical.

You don't realise it right away, that your hips are squirming beneath the weight that is the man kissing you like his life depends on it. This makes him pull away from the kiss, and right when you let out a whimper you can feel how damp the fabric clings to your folds.

"Can you hold still?" He's asking you, but it's out of genuine curiosity than a scold. And now that you think about it, now that you're an inch apart you can feel the heat of you radiate from your cheeks, lips, neck, chest. Splotched and muddy, you wonder what you must look like. You manage a weak nod, he nods back, going in for your neck.

"Joel," you gasp, hands moving against his wrists that tighten the tiniest amount against the pressure. His teeth graze over your heartbeat, littering open kisses over the skin and you moan at the same time as him when he sucks. Taking the skin of your neck between his lips and turning marks out of it. Urging you to slip completely under. Your body feels pliable to him, your moans turn to quiet whimpers as he pulls back again. Admiring his work, he rolls his thumbs over the insides of your wrists individually.

"Look at you," he suspires and it's in contrast from when he said it with your ass in the air for him a week ago. It makes you feel adored, whether he did or not. You are stronger than to let tears come up, and you don't. But you know you could if you thought about it long enough. "Gorgeous."

You blush, a full smile tugging your mouth and he pauses, tilting his head. Like he's learning what you like, and taking you in at the same time. "You're being a good girl. You know that, dontchu?"

Oh.

You nod, but it's hard not to bite your lip at that and you're aching now. Your need for him too strong than succumb to your need to guard. Your gesture makes Joel smirk, the tips of his fingers at the base of your shirt and he peels it up to your chest, just at the underside of your breasts and his eyes shift from a golden brown to black in the endeavours of his own hunger. You aren't alarmed that he isn't saying anything, and really it's nice to not verbalise your desires. It was already so difficult for you.

He knows.

And he finds it as no surprise, the keen noises you make when Joel's teeth sink into your flank right under your ribs, but it doesn't tickle surprisingly. Instead it feels good, like an itch you've been wanting to scratch. Like your sides have this constraint from your holding that he's chewing out. His mouth travels up, nosing past the fabric to kiss and suck over the shape of your breasts before cupping his lips around one of your nipples, keeping the other preoccupied under his thumb.

You let out a heady sigh, his whiskers prodding into your skin in the best possible way. His eyes slip shut, and you take in the way his eyelashes splay across his cheeks. It would be innocent if the work he's doing on the peaked bit of your flesh wasn't sending a direct signal to your clit. "Joel, I–"

He pops his mouth off of you instantly. Like your words break a spell, gaze soft and round when they look up at you. "This okay?" You bite down a groan when you hear just how fucked he sounds. Fucked like you sounded when he all but caught you cumming on his couch.

You nod, but he's not so lenient this time. "Words, darlin'."

"This is okay."

"Just okay?"

That seemed to be more of a challenge than a question or disappointment. As if he could do better, go deeper as he explored what you liked.

But you want his mouth back on you, to feel him and not just to quiet your mind. To genuinely feel him take you, and you let out a whine in response. "Joel, you know."

"I can't know unless you tell me, baby."

The slip of this pet name knocks your breath out. Half naked on his bed, your nipples glistening from his spit. Your hand smooths over the side of his neck and you tilt your head down to look at him better. He's being brave, and so should you.

"It feels good. It makes me want more." You're blushing now. To admit that, to tell him you want more – out loud with your words rather than the bucking of your hips leaves you feeling more naked despite being exposed.

But it's the green light Joel needs from you. To know you want him like this as opposed to the first time the two of you got stripped down. It was just you who was naked, then. It was him who was calling the shots. You blink in awareness that he's giving you the reigns in the way he knows how.

Giving you the reigns in light grasp while he takes the rest of the lead, tight in his palms.

He is background hum. He is thunder loud and present – you never see it, but you feel the humidity, and when he grows closer, the wind that moves your hair.

This is what it's like to hand over control to him. He knows what to do with it and he doesn't make you guilty for holding it. You're learning that of him, just as he's learning you.

Affection drips when his brushes his nose against the inside of your tits, lips trailing down your stomach until he grows increasingly aware of the ache between your legs. The pool of wetness slicking over the fabric of your underwear.

This makes him drone, low and hungry, and you blink up at the ceiling because fuck what if he didn't like it? Now wasn't the time for your self-consciousness to invade your thoughts, but it sat with you when you licked your lips – just before sitting on your elbows to get a better look at him.

You didn't do this last time. What if he wasn't into you?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Nope, definitely not. He's into you. While his lips press and teeth nip at the insides of your thighs, your breath hitches in the process. "Wet for me?" His question rhetorical, he thumbs over the blotch in your panties and that is enough to make you whine. For your hips to raise.

He pauses then with a serious look about him.

"Say red if it's too much. Understood?" You nod and he pulls his head away, producing a mewl from you. Desperate for contact. "Repeat it." Your eyes roll back all on their own and it feels like sandpaper to swallow from your dry throat.

"If it is too much I will let you know by saying red." Though the words felt formal, the delicious growl coming from Joel's throat lets you know it was exactly the correct way to form the words.

Because he's peeling your undies off completely, giving him a good view of what's in store. "I missed this," he admits and you blush deeper than you did when he was being corporeal. The exhales cool your dampened skin as he gets closer. Wraps his hands around your hips while keeping your legs secure underneath his flexed arms.

His eyes dance between yours and your cunt. Like he's watching what gets you twitching for him, and he's found that it's a mixture between his words and the way he stares at you like you're his last meal. Hard not to, to be fair.

It starts with his tongue at your entrance, like you're letting yourself pour over his tongue and he likes that. His grunts flush your clit, a buzz of him under your skin when he finally presses his tongue inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief by this. And you would run your fingers through his hair if he'd let you, but while he's wrapped his hands around your hips, your arms are on either side of those strong arms. He's subconsciously saying to you: you're not going anywhere, you're going to take it.

And that sends your head to spin. Your chest rises and falls irregularly to the feeling of him ghosting his pouty mouth over your folds until your clit is on fire just to be touched. "J-Joel," it's faint, like you can barely get it out.

"Mm?" He's busy.

"I... I need–"

"What is it, angel?" He asked a lot of rhetorical questions, his breath warm against your sex. "You want this?" His tongue ghosts over your clit and he has to use force to keep your hips in place in order for you to not buck his teeth out.

"Joel!" The sight of your hardened nipples makes him mutter under his breath again, his teeth lightly grazing over the sensitive nub.

You choke a whine, curling your fingers into themselves.

"Is that it?"

"P-please. Please!"

"Manners. Such a sweet little thing." His tongue flicks his tease against the hood of your clit and you practically howl in response. "Taste just as sweet, too."

To say your core is sticky is an understatement, your thighs pull apart slightly every now and then and it feels like effort to pull them apart from just how wet you are. Joel's mouth, Joel's fucking mouth, makes a meal of you then. Tongue rolling and flicking over the glistening skin until he finds sucking is what takes you there above all else.

His plush lips press around the nub of nerves, pulling it into his mouth with such a rush it makes you a whimpering mess far to quickly than you want to be. Thighs trembling involuntarily.

You'd only thought about this from the first day he fucked you. What his mouth would feel like right where it is, and it doesn't disappoint.

You're reduced to a slack jaw, his tongue skilled at the repetitious movements that send you to your climax.

"Cou-could I – fingers?" You quite literally can't get another word out of yourself. You're close, but he obliges – perfectly timed as his middle finger presses inside; working tandem with his tongue. He seems to like the way you feel by the noises he makes, the spongy spot inside you easy to find when you're like this. But that's just Joel, you knew that now. Nothing was hidden when he was in charge of your pleasure.

Although just one, his finger feels thick inside you. Way bigger than yours, and the steady push/pull of his while his mouth sucks on your clit is just too much not to submit to.

So it's volcanic, the eruption within you.

Seriously, it's like one moment you're not cumming and the next your pelvis and thighs are shifting like tectonic plates beneath him. Writhing and igniting with every axon that starts from the core of you and traverses your limbs. You're a mess, physically and mentally. No real words coming out, just a slew of curses and Joel's name as if it is a profanity in itself.

And with the way he's keeping his mouth tightened on you until you've reached it, you aren't too sure his name isn't a blasphemous word that should be left from your lips every second of the day.

On the comedown, your body spasms. Small noises leave your throat until it's a bounded release of giggles, your arm slung over your eyes. "What the fuck have you done?" Fucking giggles. You're giggling for the first time in... god knows how long.

Your sentence is slurred and sloppy, rubbing your eyes as if you're taking your time before you must face him. His soft eyes, mindful kisses along the insides of your thighs – each one sending a signal to your brain to jolt a little each time. Then you feel it, or well, you don't feel it anymore. His finger leaving you empty, an ache you want back.

"Is it such a bad thing?" When he speaks, you notice how hooded his eyes look like this. He's thoroughly enjoying himself, his tongue laps at your folds one last time for the night, mindful to miss the central core of you.

"I don't think so." An honest revelation.

When he comes up, his middle finger tempts your lips from where he was and you aren't shy when you wrap your lips around his finger, cleaning yourself off of him. You reach down when you pop your lips off of him, your hand eager to find his length that's straining beneath the fabric.

But Joel swats your hand away when you tempt it near him, "You’re not doin' that. Not right now." You can see the outline of it, like what's between his legs is begging a different story. Joel, however, has his arm draped around you so heavy that the weight of him won't let you do much else other than drift off to sleep.

"I'll get you back," you warn, yawning into the air. Face greeting the crease of his neck.

"We'll see, darlin'."

You drift off. Your top on, him in his boxers. In bed with a man who was making you understand trust could be on the table without transaction.

---

You wake before sunrise.

It's just the sound of your lungs sharing oxygen in the same space, you shift your body to face his. His back is to you, but you can make out the way his shoulders slope in the dark.

You like this Joel. Not because he's asleep, but because there was no holding between the two of you. Both easy to contract, but seeing him as pliable as you were last night tugs you.

Any pretense disappears until you are both left with your wanting; lying in wait.

And that drives a fire within you. You move forward, your breasts pressing against the broad scope of his back. It's warm, the scent behind his neck lulls you deeper into relaxation until you close your eyes. But Joel's a light sleeper, and the slightest movement towards him wakes him up. He's cautious not to stir right away.

Joel turns then. Fluid in its motion, he faces you. Arms wrap around you, flex and strengthen against the soft frame of your body. Rolling on top of you, your legs come apart naturally and he is warm from the bed. This version of him isn't much changed from last night, but he's more involved in his own taking than accounting for yourself – a grown woman who can make her own resolutions. You choose to stay under him, and he picks up on that.

Your mouths collide in the dark, touching and searching each other and you're slick from its gathering of your night's sleep. Right at the core, he presses his hips down and you respond in your own wave up to meet his. It's easy to slip off your shirt, leaving it abandoned somewhere in the sheets.

His boxers come down enough, then, to feel his cock thump against your folds and you inhale sharply – needing him more and more. He's hard, dripping, white hot against your skin. You clench around nothing before his hand guides himself through the slick of you, tempting over your clit before going back down. "I need you, too," thick with sleep, you groan at the sound of him and the sound of your slick being slipped against.

He's slow, only holding the tip at your entrance and you wriggle – becoming wide awake now with the width of him at your ache. "Please," you whisper, and he indulges. Doesn't make a fuss. Because he wants this, too. Wants you. Said it himself.

"You feel so damn good, swallowin' my tip like that." His face buries into your neck, lazy and sleepy when you wrap your legs around his waist. Fingernails engage his skin when he pushes, stretching you wider and deeper. It feels different from last night. More complete with this involved, too. Your lips brush against his neck while you shiver and experience. In the break of dawn with sleep lines still on both of your skins. It starts off gentle, at least.

Keeping it together is arduous, like you're both bursting at the seams to... let it all go. You have the opportunity to say it, to tell him you want this. It's everything you were explaining last night. How you want this, but it could be difficult to express. And if you were wriggling away from it, you didn't want him to stop.

One minor detail, though. You weren't wriggling away.

Physically, your legs spread further apart, your hand reaching down to touch him. Inviting the tips of your fingers to graze the bed of coarse hairs that resided just above his cock. His breath hitches then, and you both roll your hips; up and down respectively. Allowing him to go deeper, and he is deeper.

"You feel that?" His grip now on the side of your neck, keeping your eyes poured into his – even in the indigo of dawn – and your moans are turned to nothing but choking mewls when you nod. "S-so big," not that he needed his ego stroked, it's the only thing you can think about.

He's blocking any other sense having you like this. You feel every twitch, the rush of his cock growing harder inside you, if that were even possible. Your eyes flutter back in your skull for a moment in time.

"That's what you do to me, baby." His hips are merciless in the way they recoil against yours over and over. The sounds of your skin slapping mesh with the squelching of your cunt. Your hands moving to his head, fingers in his hair and you share the same breath – his exhales, your inhales and the other way around. Leaving you both dizzy and on the precipice.

Your hair sticks to the sides of your neck that he's abandoned to rest his forearms on either side of your head, fingers lost just above your head as he holds you together like this. His eye contact isn't as intimidating as it was before, and this time you crave it. The sun's coming up and it's seeping through the window that he built with the same fucking hands that are tugging your hair to look at him. His cock pulling all the way out to thrust all the way in, and he repeats the process. Tits bouncing, claws finding purchase on the sheets, on anything while he fucks you like this. A wonder fleets of how he can even keep up like this for his age, but it's washed away as soon as it comes. Your toes curling, a guttural scream of his name coming from you when your release is found. Cream coating his cock, you think you're there, but that's when you hear him.

"Easy, baby. That's it. That's fuckin' it, don't you dare fuckin' stop for me. Cum all over this cock. You can take it, that's it." His words send stars to your eyes, mouth lax just like last night but you don't remember. You don't remember anything other than the feeling of him pounding you into his mattress that is rattling and squeaking because fuck, it feels like it could break at any moment. "Joel!" You mean to say more, you really do, but it's too much to. Not while he's fucking and talking you through it, not while his own orgasm hits him when he feels the twitching of your clenched cunt around his cock. Tightening and releasing repeatedly through your bliss.

"Shit, darlin' – fuck!" Joel leaves you as late as he can, and it still feel too soon. He palms his cock a couple of strokes before spilling his hot cum over your stomach and that was sexy enough, but the sounds he's making. The animalistic grunts found through the structure of his nose has you blinking up at him like he's the most magnificent thing you've ever seen.

Maybe he is.

And you wonder then, what it would feel like to have his seed buried inside you, but you don't ask for it.

It's not the right time.

Sun cascades itself through the sky, leaving the room lilac and blue. You're both panting, his body half on you, half on the bed.

"Y'good? Y'okay?" You hear him, but it's muffled from his arm that's over your shoulder, his face plastered into the side of your bruised neck from last night.

"Mmn," you respond, but make an annoyed sound when he's soon to sit up. He looks worried over your body.

"Shit– gotta clean y'up. Sorry 'bout that."

But you smirk instead, thumbing over the pool at your stomach. You bring it up to your mouth with your eyes round and wet when they gaze into his, sucking it clean. "I got it."

Joel blinks with a look of arousal and a grin spread across his face as if to say, what am I going to do with you? "Dirty girl."

"You like it."

"Not wrong."

---

Midway through your second week, it's early when you both start off your chores for the day. You try to pacify the idea of you two being some sort of post-apocalyptic cowboys on a homestead that barely has the proper tools to sustain it half the time. It works for the both of you.

Outside the air is thick, but sky clear as you walk towards the stables. And there's Joel, exactly where you knew he would be. Bent down on his knees, working on the same project you were last week on the stables.

Security and routine close cousins to abandonment and disappointment – this plays in the background of your thoughts. You intentionally swallow it down as you approach him.

"Could I ride her?" You come into his line of vision, and you see him make a sweet face of happy to see you and did I hear you correctly?

"You can ride?" His question has amusement in it, and you scoff – grin tugging at your face. Ignoring the blatant double entendre that he probably didn't even mean to slip out, anyway. But Joel is pleased when you pick up on it because he did in fact say it on purpose.

Of course he did.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet, Miller."

Joel grunts on his way up onto his feet, bowing graciously. "Go right ahead, ma'am."

She's set up to ride when you approach her and you reach out to scratch behind her ear before saddling up on top of her.

"Hey, girl," you smile, petting over the coarse hair of her back. She's gentle, but not exactly willing to go straight away. It makes you laugh, and the ease of tension makes it easier for her to trot. "Same here, sister." You snicker to yourself, and the horse takes you out of the stables. You mostly let her do the leading, but she's easy to work with as you take her around the land Joel has claimed for himself.

There's a freedom you haven't experienced in so long while you're riding her. You remember being a kid on the back of your dad's horse, the wind against your skin like this. The prospect of new. You slow her down in your approach back to the stables after a few minutes.

When you come back, you're welcomed by Joel's clapping hands a toothy smile across his face that hurts in the best way. His pride and entertainment.

Joel basking in this side of you as you open up to him.

"Damn, maybe you could give me some lessons, darlin'. You teach yourself that?"

You appreciate him not assuming someone taught you how to do this, but the truth is you were. "My dad, actually. He taught me how to ride a horse, how to shoot a gun–"

"Not well on that last one," he jabs, motioning towards his leg you purposefully missed.

"You don't know what you don't know."

For a moment, you forget. All that burned to the ground in your previous life. Your father dying in your arms. All of it.

"She and I had a talk," you start, climbing out of the stirrups.

"Oh, did you?" Joel lifts his brow, urging you to go on.

"Her name is Bandit."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

"Figures."

---

You're both asleep up in the loft. Each morning, you were beginning to notice that Joel's night terrors were becoming less and less frequent. Subsequently, so were your own.

That was until one night you were awoken by the sound of your own sobbing, and Joel's arms tight around you. He knew not to wake you up, but he was too concerned not to try to settle you down.

"W-what?" Your voice is groggy, palpitations in your chest high. Confusion suffuses you.

"Shh, s'okay. Close y'er eyes."

Joel feels bad for waking you up, he didn't mean to. He thought he was doing the right thing. Yet even though it takes takes you awhile to fall back asleep, you do fall asleep and stay asleep.

His arm stuck around you. His protection like a blanket.

Joel's eyes stay open until they cannot and slumber creeps up for him.

All in the pursuit of your safety. He doesn't mention it, doesn't ask questions or bring it up.

---

It feels pleasant with Joel. The two of you have a routine of working on your individual duties in the day, but you always come back to each other in the evening. He's rough around the edges, there's still things that he's keeping to himself. But you don't mind because you are too, and there's no rush.

The leisure of this is what takes you by surprise the most. Not Joel being kind, or slow, or even sweet to you.

It's the fact that in the middle of chaos, you have found a pocket of serenity. The stillness between breaths.

Towards the end of your second week at Joel's, you find it brave to drape your calves over his lap while you both read worn books that have been well-loved and repeatedly grazed. In the living room you've chosen poetry tonight. Audre Lorde. Because it's there and it feels appropriate to go for poetry.

You hum to yourself when you read something striking, and now Joel is curious.

"Let's hear it," he calls, not moving his eyes from his own pages and his free palm curls over your shin.

"You want me to perform for you?"

"Quit bein' weird and just read it."

You laugh, licking over your lips before theatrically clearing your throat.

"Kinda liked it better when you were shy," Joel adds, but you know he doesn't mean it.

"You'll get used to it. Okay. Let's see... 'Always / in the middle of our bloodiest battles / you lay down your arms / like flowering mines / to conqueror me home.'"

There's a long pause between the two of you.

"I don't get it."

"You're a bad liar."

"Flowerin' mines don't even exist."

"Joel–" you huff, but that's what he wanted out of you. A response, a reaction, a rise. He puts down his book to look over to you and he's at mercy to your gaze.

"I know what you mean."

It's supported, this comfortable silence. The underbelly of what was the start of a bloodied battle. Unwillingness metamorphosing into a budding bouquet of trust.

You both go back to your books.

No need to say what is right in front of you.

He knew what you meant. Understanding.

It was all you wanted.

taglist: @cool-iguana - comment to be added!

[wannaeatramyeon]

Could you please make another unhinged reader piece but this time with her going against Charles Choi? (I really love the one you did on Vin Jin!!)

Anon, so so sorry for the delay and tysm for reading! I've been putting off Charles in the first place cos it just seems big y'know?

Unhinged F!Reader links here (or check masterlist): Gun Park | Goo Kim | Samuel Seo | Samuel Seo Part 2 | James Lee/DG | Jinyoung Park | Eli Jang | Tom Lee | Ryuhei Kuroda | Eugene | Vin Jin

Charles Choi with Unhinged F!Reader

"Huh," Charles wonders, "Why do I hear final boss battle music?"

How long has it been since Charles has felt this?

An overwhelming, crushing helplessness.

To think his downfall would come from a nobody. Somebody so insignificant that their existence was completely unknown to him.

An easy, fatal mistake.

"Elite?" the sound of your mocking tone reaches his ears despite the blood trickling out. "Elite compared to what?"

Silly boys and their silly nicknames. They're all the same. Elite, Big Daddy, Rabid Attack Dog, the Legend.

Compensating much? Pathetic.

Some little boys just never grow up, having tasted an ounce of power and thought that was all there was. Such big fishes in a tiny putrid swamp.

Your fingers scrape along Charles' once carefully groomed beard, now smeared with blood and spittle.

"What a silver fox. Guess that's a benefit of you being so past your prime."

The words should hurt, but Charles can face reality. He's no longer the young man he once was. Not sure he would even be a worthy opponent for you if he was.

How strange that in these moments it is Gapryong that he thinks about. How he wasn't really a worthy opponent for Gapryong neither, needing to secure his way to the top with underhanded dealings and James Lee.

Charles drifts in and out, thinking about the Pre-Generation, about Tom Lee and Jinyoung Park.

About how nobody has warned him about you, how he didn't see you coming until it was too late. Swaggering towards him in a deserted street with soulless eyes and a chilling grin.

"Charles Choi?" you had asked, tucking away a slip of paper into your breast pocket, "Or should that be... Elite?"

And that was the beginning of the end.

Or maybe it was the beginning of the end years ago, and now his chickens are coming home to roost.

Charles felt your first lethal attack before he could see it, remaining arm snapping and the heat of blood gushing and pouring out. Voice screaming on reflex before he could register it was his own.

Now, even with you easily in touching distance, Charles can't bring himself to move. He has nothing left to give. And was there ever a time he ever felt truly depleted? Not trying to brute force or scheme his way to the very end?

All fight has left him now.

In his delirium, words escape and leak unhindered under his breath. Some names that ring a bell with you.

You chuckle. "Tom Lee? Jinyoung Park? Oops, I got to them too."

Then you lean down, closing the gap between your bodies, lips ghosting over his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"Gapryong Kim though? I heard you got to him years before I could." You look Charles square in the eye, your words landing and his eyes widen in panic.

His final secret out.

With that you throw your head back laughing, uproariously and deranged. That is what he's worrying about now? What a wretched man.

"I'll give you anything you want," Charles pleads.

Your laughter abruptly stops and replaced with a scathing look. How fucking predictable. Ugh. This whole thing is starting to bore you.

"I've heard it all from that that twink already. Eugene or something. It didn't end well for him."

"Maybe," you think outloud, examining your hands caked almost completely in red, not remembering if you actually painted your nails that colour or if that is Charles' blood too-

"I want your other arm."

"...I see." are his final words to you, recognising any further pleas will fall on deaf ears. Tone calm yet all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

The last thing Charles see before he closes his eyes is the quirk of your lips and bloodlust etched all over your face.

In the darkness, he waits for you to decide his fate and for his empire to crumble.

[lavenderstobins]

What would Robin's relationship with Wayne and Eddie be exactly in the "Wayne adopts Robin AU"?

ty for the ask!

With Wayne:

Specifically in this AU, Robin's father died a few years ago, and she was closer to him than her mom, so she kinda imprints on Wayne like a baby duckling from the moment he was kind to her (but does her hardest not to show it).

In the early days of living with the Munsons, she tries to mask a lot and doesn't want to be a nuisance or overstep for fear that Wayne'll ask her to leave. It takes her some time to relax and let her guard down, but she bonds with Wayne over things like sport and TV (she's on the girls' soccer team, after all!). I think for sure she gets really into watching sports because of Wayne, much to Eddie's annoyance as he's shushed during games. Wayne tried to take her fishing, but she hated it, much like Eddie had.

Wayne teaches Robin how to drive, but they haven't been able to afford to get her license. Wayne's a quiet person and Robin is very much not, so Wayne often spends his evenings sitting on the couch listening to Eddie and Robin's conversations with him/each other, and there's nothing he'd rather do.

Wayne loves Robin fiercely. He seems to have a thing for collecting waifs in need (coined by @pukner). I personally headcanon that Wayne had a younger sister who died when she was still a kid, so having Robin around somewhat fills a little of that aching gap in his chest, y'know?

Overall, Wayne sees Robin as a daughter of sorts, or at least a daughter figure. If Eddie's his boy, Robin's his girl. Robin doesn't think of Wayne as a father exactly, but he's definitely the closest thing she has to one. He's Just Wayne™.

With Eddie:

Robin's definitely intimidated by Eddie to begin with. She knows him from school (and he used to be in band) and so she knows him as loud, rowdy and brash. She's almost jealous as well, because he's so comfortable in himself in a way she thinks she can never be. She tries to be invisible, to hide everything about herself, while Eddie seems to rise above it all.

Eddie, much to her surprise, is far gentler than she'd expected. She'd been nervous that he'd think she's trying to take over his home or steal his uncle or something, but Eddie takes it in stride and does his best to help Robin feel at ease. As far as he's concerned, she belongs with them now, too. He knows what it's like to lose a parent and to get stuck with a shitty one.

Eddie helps her out of her shell a lot and between him and Wayne she becomes a lot more comfortable dressing masculine and not hiding. As time goes on, she and Eddie get comfortable enough that they're almost equally loud at home, and they definitely have a sibling dynamic. Wayne's watched them tussling over the TV remote too many times to count. They both think of each other as a brother / a sister and outsiders perceive them as siblings.

When it comes down to it, though, they have each other's backs. After Starcourt, Eddie hates that he's out of the loop and doesn't know how to deal with it. He knows she's hiding something from him, but not what. Robin, in contrast, feels horribly guilty lying to them, because it's been so long since she's felt the need to hide anything from Eddie or Wayne.

When Eddie gets brought into things, Robin is devastated, because she'd always wanted Eddie and Wayne to be safe. She finds Chrissy in the trailer before Wayne does and she takes off cycling to find Eddie immediately. She finds him in the boathouse by herself, and they stick together.

(Also, a fun little tidbit is that they're both so afraid for the other. Robin's terrified of Hawkins being on a manhunt for her brother, while Eddie's scared shitless because Robin's been marked by Vecna in this AU and he saw what happened to Chrissy)

(Bonus fun tidbit: they both try to sacrifice themselves to save everyone else, and Wayne has to see both of his kids in comas. Eddie wakes up first only to learn that he can't see Robin because not only did Vecna get her, but he's the lead suspect for her 'attempted murder'.)

[sehtoast]

The Sun Will Come Up

grief, hurt/comfort, ben (spidersona oc) consoling ryan, ben and homelander coparenting | Fic Directory

“I don't know!”

The boy's cry comes out in a squeak, the sob suppressed tight in his throat as if letting it go would destroy the rest of the world. 

“I don't– I'm–”

Ben sits beside him atop their choice of skyscraper. The outing was supposed to help Ryan, and he supposes it has, in a way. He's finally letting it out. All the anger and rage smothered by the weight of his grief. 

The loss of his mother. The responsibility he feels for both her death and the disfigurement of Stormfront. The former was so easily understandable, but Ben supposes only the heart of a child could hold sympathy for the latter. 

Not to mention the pain of it all thrown back in his face by Butcher. 

Ben's so incredibly thankful John found him. 

All of his pain and fury comes out in screams and balled fists that leave cracks in the concrete of the roof with each and every slam. 

Ben reaches out to pat and rub circles against Ryan's upper back, silently consoling the boy as he weeps. The sound of tears sizzling in the heat of his crimson eyes reminds Benjamin so very much of the boy's father. 

“It's m-my f-fault! Dad says it's not, b-but!” Ryan pushes through heaving breaths. “But I killed my mom! I hurt her!” 

The bug doesn't quite know how to help. No amount of telling him that it was okay, or that he somehow wasn't really responsible, would do anything more than fan the flame and make the boy eventually bury it all under layers of deniability like so many other supes. 

“I hate my powers! I never asked for ‘em!”

I didn't know it would happen! 

I couldn't control my powers! 

I couldn't stop it! 

Lines heard again and again. 

Flashes of John in the labs course through Ben's mind. Grainy images of blood splattered walls and a boy too young to understand why. 

Why? 

Ryan lurches forward with every full-body sob, eventually throwing himself at Ben to be held safe from the cruelty of the world, his grip round the web-head's abdomen damn near punishing. 

“I–” he heaves, gasping for air. Diaphragm must be spasming “W-what do I do!?” 

A marvelous question, and not one easily answered. What does he do? 

“Well…” Ben murmurs, keeping up with those comforting circular motions against the boy's back. He can feel each quiet sob, suppressed or not. The quiver of his breaths. The gaps between them when Ryan holds tight to stale oxygen. “You gotta do the hard part first, bud.”

Which was never what anyone wanted to hear. 

“You have to forgive yourself.” 

“I can't, I–” 

“I know. But listen to me.” Ben leans back, resting a hand on the boy's head to ruffle his hair. “You did it. You did. And you gotta take responsibility for it no matter what, okay?” He hates the way the boy's eyes well up at his words, but this needs to be said. “We make it up to the people we hurt by doing better for the rest.” 

Ryan stares quietly, but the tears continue rolling. 

“We gotta do better. We learn to control our powers to protect people.” Ben continues. He'll be damned if this boy learns the all too common lesson Vought teaches all of their supes. Non-super humans aren't expendable; they're not a means to an end nor toys for supes to break. “Your mom loved you, buddy. Loves you, I mean. Her love doesn't stop just ‘cuz she's not around anymore. You keep it in here,” he taps over his own heart. “You were her sunshine, and now…” Ben swallows against the lump in his throat. “Now you gotta decide if you're gonna be the sun in a different way, y'know?”

Ryan nods. “I think so…” 

“You're not a bad person. You're little, and the world is very big and, honestly, pretty terrible.” A fact the boy has already learned the hard way. “But there's good things, too. Like how your dad and I love you. We've got your back every step of the way. Promise.” 

The sudden shuffle of footsteps approaching spooks both of them, but the voice that follows is unmistakable. 

“He's right.” Utters the new arrival, swishing his cape to the side before descending to sit on Ryan's other side. Homelander's eyes are rimmed red, but the untrained eye might simply think they're wind bitten from his flight to join them.

Ben knows better. 

“You've always got us in your corner.” 

Homelander shoots the bug a worried look when all that comes is more tears, but Benjamin only nods to him.  Neither one is particularly cut from the cloth of parental instinct, but something tells him Ryan just needs to be allowed to feel it.  No words, no excuses.

The pair sit with him until the sun sets below the horizon. Until he cries himself out and falls asleep between them with his father's cape draped over his shoulders. 

The sun will set countless times in his life, but it will be up to him to choose the dawn. All they can do is hope it'll be as bright as he deserves. 

[htchnr]

♰ apocalypse ༻ ASH WILLIAMS.*ೃ˚

✮ꜜ masterlist. ✮ꜜ buy me a coffee!

content warning disgusting fluff ⋆ like ew it's so cute ⋆ Ash's nonsense expressions ⋆ age gap ⋆ Ash is in his late 40s reader in her late 20s ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

summary requested by a lovely anon ; early morning softness with ash… ash waking up before the reader and tenderly gazing at her before some stupid one liner spills from his lips… scratching ash’s scalp as he groans into his pillow… so many options… wordcount 0,8k.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

the loud patter of rain slowly wakes you up, barely any sunlight spilling through the small skylight in the trailer. you groan, turning your side as you try to stretch. Ash's large left hand wrapping itself firmly around your waist, as if you were gonna disappear if he didn't.

you stretch and yawn, the slowly turn back to face him. your tired eyes admire his peaceful features before being pulled shut again as you slowly start to fall asleep again.

Ash grunts, slowly waking as he tries to stretch his shoulders without moving against you too much. he blinks, eyes prepared to adjust to the light, but finding the curtained bedroom still relatively dark.

he looks over at you, your eyes closed and your face relaxed as you start to doze off again in his arms. a cheesy, lovesick smile makes its way onto his face, those thin lips stretching tiredly. he never means for it to sound so creepy, but he loves watching you sleep — your face so peaceful and almost angelic. he could admire you for days.

you shift against him, a hand coming up against his chest as you sigh deeply. his whole body freezes, afraid he's woken you up, but your body stills after the small shift.

he lays there for a few more minutes, eyes flitting across your form. he slowly and gently raises his left hand, his warm fingers coming down to carefully hold your face and brush away some stray strands of hair.

you inhale deeply, a small smile stretching across your lips as his thumb strokes your cheek. you exhale, nuzzling your face closer to his. " g'morning, creep, " you hum, your voice groggy with sleep.

he huffs with a smile, " good morning, sunshine, " stroking your cheek one last time before snaking his strong arm around your waist and rolling onto his side, draping his heavy figure across your side with his face tucked into the crook of your neck. " lovely as a can of cherries in Maine, " he inhales deeply, cherishing the faint smell of your perfume.

you tiredly laugh, one arm wrapping around his shoulder and the other other moving to comb your fingers through his messy hair. " Ash, that makes no damn sense, "

his arm tightens around you at the feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp, burrowing his face closer against you as he lets out a long and pleased hum. you smile, your eyes still closed as you continue your motions. Ash closes his eyes, bridge of his sharp nose pressed firmly against the base of your throat as he settles against your chest.

you scratch a little more firm, nails dragging gentle patterns across his scalp as the large man is practically purring against you. " oh, please don't stop, baby, " he pleads with a long groan, brows furrowing in pure pleasure at the sensation.

you grin and chuckle, Ash's head moving along with the rising and falling of your chest. " you know i wouldn't dare, "

you two stay like that for a long while, watching the sun slowly rise as you hold the sweet bear of a man against your chest. you love moments like these, the comfort, the pleasure and relief of having him so close — the blessed silence and no awful puns as he's rendered speechless as you scratch his scalp.

you listen to the sound of the rain on the roof, the sound slowly soothing you back to sleep. " y'know, " you mumble. Ash hums in acknowledgment. " i think the weather sounds like it's a perfect day to lay around all day, what'dya say? " your voice getting more scratchy the closer you're dragged to sleep.

Ash whines against you as you reach a specific spot on his head, pressing his face impossibly more close against you. " that sounds like the best idea ever dollface, " sighing pleasurably against you, his hot breath fanning across your bare collarbones.

you nod along. yeah, you wouldn't trade moments like these in for anything else in the world. and even if you would, Ash wouldn't ever let you leave his bed.