#But I never fuckin have been have i! Because I'm not a fuckin mind reader!

[aw-bean-s]

sometimes I just wish my friends liked me the way other people's seem to

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | boyfriend's dad!cillian murphy x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | for some reason, your first instinct after the breakup was to talk to his parents; maybe because you'd come sort of uniquely close to them, for a relatively short relationship. you might not have gone to their house if you'd known you'd find mr. murphy there alone...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ ONLY!! unprotected sex, creampie, oral m and f receiving), age gap (reader's age unspecified, cillian is 45+), hurt/comfort (but, you know, sexual comfort), infidelity, slight manipulation/coercion since the reader is very vulnerable at the time, somewhat inexperienced reader, degradation and praise, a little bit of breathplay, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia?, reader is slightly implied to be an immigrant/foreigner

note: yes I use his real name but this is just fiction and not meant to have anything to do with the real cillian murphy or his life/family so please keep that in mind!

He had a smile on his face as he opened the door and greeted you, but it fell instantly when he saw you biting down on your quivering lip, looking down to hide how red and watery your eyes were.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, voice heavy with concern as he reached out and rubbed your shoulder. "Oh, god— come in, come in— what's going on?"

He ushered you into the house, shutting the door behind you and wrapping his arm around you as you sniffled. "I-I'm sorry—" you began instantly.  “I thought— I don’t know why I even came here…”

But, actually, you sort of did.  You’d been wanting to talk to Cillian’s wife, hoping for some motherly advice, until he answered the door and you abruptly remembered she was in England on business for a week or something.  And you couldn’t exactly show up on somebody’s doorstep crying and say ‘oh, sorry, I thought your wife would be home— I’ll come back in a few days’.

You weren’t disappointed by running into him instead, really, you just felt a little weirder about it.  The two of you had never actually been alone before.

"Don't apologise," he soothed, "it's okay, just tell me what's happened. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you sighed, trying to compose yourself a bit as he guided you to sit on the couch with him. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just... um, well, it's sort of stupid—"

"I'm sure it's not," he offered with a small laugh, "if it's got you this worked up."

"We, um... I think we broke up?"

"What?" he breathed, knitting his eyebrows together— he cared more than you expected... but it sort of made sense, Mr. Murphy had always made you feel welcome here. Mrs. Murphy too, maybe ina different way. Yes, it's bizarre to respond to being dumped by going to visit the guy's parents, you needed a sort of... mature, familial presence right now while you were so far from your own.

You took him through the whole drama as efficiently as possible, trying to regulate your crying so he could actually attempt to make out what you were saying. He listened thoughtfully, perhaps with too much attention compared to what you expected— after all, this was stupid college drama and he was so much more mature than all that. Still, you appreciated a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

"And, uh, that's how he ended it," you finished with a sigh, sniffling as you recalled the heartbreaking conversation. "He basically told me that he's too young to be stuck with one person, and he needs to 'explore his options'..."

"Then he's an idiot," Cillian groaned, "and I hate to say that about my own son— but he's a fuckin' idiot."

"Well," you mumbled, "I don't know— I thought maybe he had a point. I mean, we're pretty young..."

"But look at you, honey," he offered pityingly, "you can't tell me this is what you wanted."

"No, but—"

"And yes, you're young," he added, "but not too young— not if it's real."

You bit your lip to stop it from shaking any more, and he cooed at you gently as he reached up to rub your shoulder.  

“Poor girl,” he breathed.  “Honestly, I always… well, maybe I shouldn’t say it now…”

You looked up at him expectantly, and he smiled nervously as he glanced away.

“Well… I guess I always thought that you could do better,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “but, you know, I didn’t want to say anything, of course.  He was lucky to have you, and I just hoped he would treat you right, but…”

“I thought I was the lucky one,” you replied with a thin smile and another little sniffle.  “He could be really sweet, you know— he used to be.  And I always thought he was, uh, sort of… you know, out of my league.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Cillian frowned, moving his hand up to your face and holding your cheek, wiping a small tear away with his thumb.  “You’re gorgeous.”

You laughed awkwardly, not sure what to think— or how to think— with him looking at you like that.  “I… I don’t know, you’re sweet, but—”

“No, really,” he assured, and only when you met his gaze did you realise how close he was.  You wouldn’t call it too close, only because it didn’t bother you like you knew it should.  “You’re so beautiful.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing actually came out… there was nothing to say.  He was coming closer, you knew it, and you wanted to reach up to stop him just as much as you wanted to shut your eyes and give into it.  You ended up sort of splitting the difference: you rested your hands on his shoulders, but didn’t push him away, and gasped slightly just before he kissed you.  Even a second of resistance could’ve given you some plausible deniability, but no, you fluttered your eyes shut and kissed him back; it didn’t help that you could feel how warm and strong he was through the t-shirt, holding on tighter to his shoulders with a hum.

His hands wandered to your waist, pulling you into him— and you were like putty, embarrassingly enough. With him kissing you like that, you really couldn’t do anything but let him pull you around wherever he wanted.  His lips were soft and gentle, his tongue teased you so carefully, and he even sighed against your skin in the sweetest way… you were totally helpless already.  

Sure, some part of you knew how fucking bizarre this was— that you were kissing Mr. Murphy, your boyfriend’s dad— well… ex-boyfriend’s.  You weren’t blind, you noticed how attractive he was when you met him, but you’d managed to successfully ignore it since then.  It made sense, after all, since the first thing you’d noticed about your boyfriend was his good looks… but Mr. Murphy was handsome in a totally different way.  Strong and broad— not especially massive or anything, still a lean guy— with thin streaks of grey in his hair, a patient sort of smile, subtle wrinkles around his eyes that added a sense of wisdom to his expression… really, he was a bit more of your type.  But that was something you had forced yourself not to acknowledge— until now.

You sat up slightly, holding onto his neck, breathing in sharply through your nose as you kissed him back a little harder.  You could feel him smiling— god, even just that made you feel so desperate— and he even moaned ever-so-quietly when you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed against your lips, breaking away just enough to make you open your eyes— his lashes seemed especially long as he looked down at your legs curled up on the couch (and his hands petting them slowly.  “You haven’t been treated properly for a long time, have you?”

You whined in the back of your throat involuntarily as you nodded— how could he see right through you like that?  It wasn’t like it was bad with your ex, it was just… not good.  Not enough.  You wanted to feel wanted, not used— not a means to an end.

“Will you let me?” he asked softly, breathing beside your ear on his way in to kiss your neck.  You gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close, head falling back to give him as much of you as he wanted.  His tongue was fucking fiendish, the way he used it to tickle along your pulse, the sharpness of his teeth making you jolt only for him to soothe you with his plush lips.

“Yes,” you panted, “fuck— I, god, I can’t believe we’re doing this…”

He laughed a little.  “I can,” he admitted.  “All I could fucking think about since I met you…”

That surprised you— you’d never noticed anything that would’ve made you think he thought of you that way… but knowing that he, apparently, had made a shiver run up your spine.

He certainly hid it well, playing the part of the slightly-embarrassing dad and polite husband so well that you never would’ve known… oh god, his wife.  You didn’t want to think of her now, yet the unavoidable memory stirred arousal alongside guilt in your gut.  You had no idea you were this sort of person— but you weren’t really operating logically right now, anyway.

He held your face again as he pulled back, petting your cheek— it made you feel especially juvenile when he did that, holding your chin to examine you.  This wasn’t really the ideal state for you to be looked at, in your opinion, with you having been crying all evening.  But he looked amazed by you, even if it was just for a moment before he looked down at your body and smirked.

“Take this off,” he instructed, tugging at your shirt slightly.  You thought it would’ve been a little more romantic if he helped you out of it, but it was alternatively a bit sexier that he was just going to sit back and watch you strip for him.  It must have been his way of demonstrating his power over you, that you were just going to take it off and toss it aside without question.  Which, of course, you did.

He smiled proudly at the sight, and before you could even get your bra off, he started to carefully tease you through it— fingers running around the edge, moving the straps off your shoulders, tickling up your sides as you shifted nervously on the couch.  

“Look’t that,” he whispered proudly, and you took a second to realise that he was referring to your nipples getting hard enough to poke visibly through the fabric; you felt self-conscious all of a sudden, even if he was clearly enjoying what he was seeing.  “So needy, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you admitted, whining when he reached inside the cups and ran his fingers over your breasts— they usually weren’t so sensitive.  “Fuck,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as a way to try to escape his gaze.  “I… I need you.”

“Fuck, baby, don’t talk like that,” he groaned, “m’gonna try to take my time with you— how am I supposed to do that if you say such lovely things?”

His lips were on your neck again— and he was leaning you back, laying you down under him, tugging your shorts down with a bit more urgency than he’d had before.

When you were basically naked— or at least, your bra and panties pushed out of the way enough that he could see what he needed to— he purred at the sight, grinning as you hastily undressed yourself the rest of the way.  

"Of course he couldn't appreciate this," Cillian sighed, baring his teeth just a bit. "Of course he couldn't appreciate a perfect fucking body like this— a perfect little pussy like this..."

You were about to open your mouth to say something, though you hadn't even decided yet what it would be, but only a low moan came out when he held your legs open and dove between them, humming as he lapped at your clit. You couldn't imagine why you were so sensitive, but your whole body was shaking already just from the gentlest motions of his tongue...

"Fuck," he said, muffled against your skin, before he pulled back enough to bite playfully on your thigh. "Fuck, darling, you taste delicious. Christ. You're too perfect..."

He devoured you again, exploring all over you with his tongue as your thighs kept instinctively clamping down on his head. He kept looking up at you through it all, even when you couldn't stand to meet his gaze and had to arch your back from the pleasure. "Fuck!" you yelped, grabbing tightly onto his hair. "Fuck, Mr. Murphy, I— oh, god..."

"He never made you come like this, did he?" Cillian realised with a groan, nearly growling when you shook your head. "Has anyone?"

"N-no," you shakily admitted, and he moaned around you as he suckled harder on your clit for a moment until you whined loudly.

"Oh, poor thing," he cooed, "how could anyone taste this sweet cunt of yours, and not want to spend hours between your legs?"

He didn’t need to spend hours, though— the taboo nature of the situation seemed to turn your body into overdrive, making you so sensitive and desperate… or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, but it was hard to say.

The point is, all too soon, you were shivering under him, back arching up off the couch, holding on tightly to his hair.  He hummed approvingly, even moaning against you as he slid his tongue inside; he must have been able to feel you pulsing, moving closer and closer to the edge, because he shut his eyes tight and seemed to focus harder and pushing you further until you couldn’t take anymore.

“Fuck, fuck!” you sobbed, thighs shaking around his head; there really was no exploration to it, no teasing, he just went right in and expertly played you like he’d done this a thousand times.  Maybe he had… but, obviously, he’d never done it to you.  Were you that easy to solve?

Obviously, that question suddenly became the last thing on your mind as your orgasm wracked through you.  He growled encouragingly, still keeping his pace, but you could barely hear it past the ringing in your ears— and your own cries of his name, of course.

He only broke away when your squirms turned into real avoidance: you could only take so much, especially with him suckling on your clit like that.

You were almost nervous to open your eyes again— and you were right, he looked so gorgeous between your legs, obviously smug with having just made you come, it was nearly criminal.

“Is it really that easy to make you come, honey?” he laughed, petting your legs sweetly as he pulled back, looking up at you with a proud grin.  “That’s so fucking cute, baby…”

As he sat up again, wiping the slick off his mouth with the back of his hand, you got this weird, clingy feeling— wanting to chase him even just as he barely moved away.  

But he’d sat up for a reason, and you started to realise it when you sat up, too, and noticed the thick bulge in his jeans.

"Why don't you show me what you can do, sweetheart?" he encouraged with a smile, opening his belt for you. "I'm sure you've learned a thing or two..."

Though you still felt terribly nervous about it, you leaned forward towards his lap. Would it be awful to admit your mouth watered when he freed his cock from his jeans and boxers, holding it out for you as a little bead of precum formed at the tip?

"Show me, baby," he whispered again, "and look up at me."

You nervously blinked up at him, meeting his gaze from his lap, as you wrapped your lips around his swollen head. He bit his lip right away and reached up to hold onto your hair, groaning as you swirled your tongue.

"Fuck," he smirked, "you're sort of a tease, aren't you?"

You weren't trying to be, really, but it didn't sound like he minded too much...

"Oh, fuck," he moaned deeply, making you pulse inside as he tilted his head back. "Fuck, baby, that's good— your mouth is so fucking warm..."

He gasped and panted as he held your head, guiding it to bob just a little faster than you had been moving. "Sweetheart," he choked, "you're so fucking good... fuck!"

The praise made your chest fill with warmth, even if there was still some part of your brain that was recovered enough from the orgasm to remember how horrible this all was.  It was horrible, but perfect— and feeling his cock throb against your tongue was perfect, too.

You’d never been told you were so good at this before, but he kept moaning and petting your head encouragingly, whispering the most wonderful and filthy things.  “Just like that, honey,” he cooed, “mm— pretty thing… knew that mouth of yours would feel so fuckin’ good… just keep sucking my cock, sweetheart.”

That you did— harder and faster, stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, moaning softly around him.  As you tried to take it deeper, desperate to please him, you gagged on his thick head.

“God, it’s so cute when you choke on it, baby,” he chuckled.  “Do it again.”

This time it was almost too much, but he held your head down and groaned deeply.  It would’ve bothered you more— not being able to breathe— if he didn’t sound so sexy right then…

Thankfully, he pulled you off just in time, making you yelp as he held you by your hair— only to kiss you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.  Moaning, you melted into his arms, and let him guide you to straddle his lap.  Feeling his jeans against your thighs and his shirt against your chest made your heart skip.

He took another long look at you when he broke away, a new darkness in his bright eyes.

“You’re so sexy,” he laughed softly, running his hands over your nude form and raising a brow as he watched goosebumps break out over your skin.  “God, I need to be inside you…”

You bit down on your lip but it didn’t do much to suppress your whimper; lifting yourself up a bit, you grasped his cock and slid it through your folds, guiding him to your entrance.  

You both gasped when he slipped inside, even when it was the slightest penetration— his whole head wasn’t in yet, and you just knew it would stretch you more than you were used to.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned loudly, tilting his head back, “you’re so wet, sweetheart…”

Lowering yourself, you took in a shaky breath, whining slightly as he opened you up one inch at a time... and each one seemed somehow thicker than the last. His fingers seemed to dig deeper into the skin at your hips and ass the lower that you sank onto him.

You could barely believe that you took it all; that you relaxed into his lap fully even when you feared being split in half by how thick he was.  “Oh my god,” you blurted out, operating on instinct as you started to move— grinding back and forth, desperate for friction despite having been satisfied by his incredible mouth just a few minutes ago.

"Fuck, there you go," he encouraged with a growl, looking down at your hips rocking in his lap. "Ride me, just like that— fuck, ride my cock, little fuckin' whore..."

You whimpered at the insult, holding tighter onto his shoulders, but it only made you move faster. "S-so... so deep, Mr. Murphy," you whimpered.

"Yeah? You can take it," he promised darkly, holding tighter onto your waist as he dropped his head back with a low groan. "God, you're tight— fuck."

You gasped as he bucked his hips up, creating more pressure against your over-sensitive clit. "Oh, fuck," you breathed, struggling to cope with all the sensations he was giving you.

Both of you settled on the right pace, and he switched between resting his head back against the couch (giving you a nice view of his gorgeous neck, how could just a neck be so sexy?!) and looking down to watch you go.  “So fuckin’ cute,” he praised— though you were sort of surprised to hear him describe you that way at a time like this.  “So needy, honey… you want more, don’t you?  You wanna go even faster.”

Now that he said it: yeah, you did.  You bounced up and down, your moans coming out all shaky and uneven because of the movement, and he grinned proudly.

His hands wandered up from your waist to your chest, groping you eagerly as you gasped out his name in response.  “Love these tits of yours,” he informed you, sounding oddly sweet for how dirty of a compliment it was.  “Took everything in me not to stare at them when you’d come over for dinner… see what you do to me, sweetheart?  Haven’t felt this desperate since I was your age.”

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing, reminding you of how much older he was at a time like this.  He purred when he felt you clench on him, obviously affected by the comment.

“Should’ve known you’d give in right away,” he went on, softening his voice to nearly a whisper as he watched you move with heavy eyes; you angled your hips back and moaned louder, his cock rubbing against just the right spot every time now.  “Hungry little thing like you— now I wish I hadn’t waited so long.  We could’ve been doing this the whole time… I could’ve shown you how much better it can be, when somebody really takes care of you.”

Whimpering, you felt another heady pang inside you— if he kept talking like that, you wouldn’t be able to keep your head on straight… then again, the fact that you were here proved that you were less stable than you thought.

“Faster, sweetheart,” he ordered again suddenly.  “I wanna see how desperate you can get.”

You furrowed your brows together, almost pouting, but did exactly what he wanted— you wondered if you looked as pathetic as you sounded, riding him recklessly, chasing another peak even when it took all of your strength in those shaking legs.

He grabbed you by the jaw and guided you into another desperate kiss— all teeth and tongue and low moans.  “Good fucking girl,” he snarled.  “Good little slut.”

“Fuck,” you panted, moving faster.  “Fuck, I’m close—”

“I know, honey,” he cooed, nodding as he moved his hand down to your neck.  “Show me how bad you need it, sweetheart.  Let me see it, I wanna see you come for me.”

Tossing your head back, you cried out his name again— why did you always do that when you came?— and felt it overtake you.  It was even heavier than the last one, even more numbing and draining, and you didn’t even notice how hard you were digging your nails into his shoulders.

When your body failed and you came to a shaky stop, he didn’t give you much time to catch your breath: he grabbed you tight, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, and began to buck his hips up into you quickly.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” you whined, overwhelmed by the feeling, holding onto him tightly just to have something to keep you grounded.

“Fuck, m’gonna come inside you,” he warned with a growl.  “Gonna fill you, baby, you’ll be so fuckin’ full of my come—”

You sobbed and buried your face in his neck, starting to cry again for a completely different reason than before.

“Tell me you want it,” he ordered, speaking roughly right against your ear.

“F-fuck, I want it,” you gasped, “I want you to come— fuck— come inside me—”

He choked out a few more swears, he held you tight enough that you started to imagine what his bruises would look like on you tomorrow, and with a low groan of your name, it all suddenly slowed to a stop.  You moaned weakly when you felt his cock flexing against your walls, even more heat pooling inside you.  With what little energy you had left, you softly kissed his neck— until he seemed to come back to reality and pushed you back enough to be face-to-face with you again.  

You realised suddenly that you were still sort of crying from the intensity of it all, and got nervous with him staring at you like that.  “I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you wiped your face.

“Don’t apologise,” he told you again, moving your hands away so he could look at you himself.  “Besides, you look even cuter when you cry.”

[aemvnd]

I NEED a smut fic with Bambi!reader and Rafe ☹️ literally anything will do your writing always eats

𝓇.cameron. ┆ bambi baby.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ hihihi babies. !!!!!!!!!! 🥺♡ྀི i missed y'all sm. here's this lil' thing that's been on my mind all night… it's set in the rafe 𝓍 bambi!reader au i'm makin'… but u don't gotta read the others to understand this at all-- this is jus' a lil' bit of smut. 🫶🏼

"ah-ah, hey!" rafe scolded you, slapping your freshly manicured, dainty little fingers away from touching your slippery, puffy pink folds, oozing more and more of your slick as the seconds passed, with your boyfriend having you seated in between his manspread legs, your back pressed back against his hard, bare, muscular chest, completely naked.

"you don't get to touch this," rafe tuts warningly, making you instantly pout cutely, glossy lips all pink and kiss-swollen from rafe's sloppy, abusive kisses just minutes ago.

snapping out of your hazy, dreamlike thoughts, you squeal girlishly, all high pitched and sweet, as rafe completely cups your weepy, sweet little cunny, giving your cunt a possessive squeeze as if it were a warning not to cross him.

"this? this right here?" he asks tauntingly, with two little slaps against your drooling cunt, making his big hand all wet and causing you to mewl softly, trying to squeeze your smooth, plush thighs together, but rafe stops you, glaring down at you with clear disapproval, a threat in his steel-blue eyes, making you press back further more into him, shrinking against him, seeking his bigger size to feel safe and secured, even if he was the one abusing your little cunt right now-- you didn't mind, and neither did rafe.

"it's mine," he purrs into your ear with a soft, low baritone voice, his tone was teasing, though his voice was still a deep, lazy drawl, cupping your bare cunt with his large dominant hand, his face buried into the cook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, overwhelmingly addicting scent, before he begins kissing and licking and sucking another claiming lovemark on the delicate, sensitive skin of your little, easily breakable, sweet-smelling neck.

"all. fuckin'. mine," he coos menacingly, causing your insides to melt and butterflies to swarm in your belly-- you couldn't help it, you were so in love with rafe, and his possessiveness over you always made your brain turn into mush, even when he wasn't playing with your little cunt.

"you understand that, bambi baby?" he questions mockingly, keeping his voice hushed, yet he still kept that deep, lazy, baritone drawl to his voice, making your little clit throb and twitch with need, which rafe notices of course, because he always does-- swiftly, skillfully, he gently pinches your little nub, only to start rubbing two pads of his calloused fingertips against it, causing you to whimper softly and squirm for a moment, before you begin to gently hump your boyfriend's deft fingertips that were currently massaging your 'pretty princess cunt', as rafe likes to call it.

you nod eagerly, maybe a bit too eagerly, but again, you don't care-- always so sweet and innocently naïve for your boyfriend, just the way he likes you, all shy and sweet and codependent on him, looking up at him with your thick, fluffy black lashes, all doe-eyed and precious for him, a bit weepy too, just like your sweet little pussy, rafe notices.

and rafe is already aware, as usual, that you need a good, long, hard fucking, and that's exactly what he's gonna give to you-- after all, you're his girl, his future wife and the mother to his children, he'd never deny his precious bambi anything, especially a good fuck.

rafe smirks as he watches you nod obediently, the anger in his brow smoothing out and his soft lips curling up into a small, lazy smirk, "good girl, baby," he praises sweetly, giving the side of your head a long kiss, before easily slipping the two fingers he was using to massage your clit to now slide them inside of your needy cunt, feeling the way your wet, velvety walls flutter and quiver when he wiggles them around inside of you for a few seconds, hearing the way you gasp and moan so prettily for him.

"oh, daddy!" you cry out, your little, freshly painted pink toes curling from the sudden shift in pleasure, thighs shaking and belly clenching with your need for delicious release. "oohhh, f-feels so... so good i-inside of me," you mewl deliriously, moaning breathily and heart pounding, your bare breasts heaving as you suddenly feel rafe curl his long, talented fingers inside of you, insistently rubbing that place that makes you orgasm in seconds and wail like a newborn baby.

"D-DADDY!" you sob breathlessly, your shaky hands now going to reach and squeeze his clothed thighs, digging your long, gorgeous nails (which rafe of course paid for) into the gray sweatpants that he was currently only wearing, making you even more horny and desperate for him.

rafe chuckles breathlessly at how needy you're for him tonight, but he doesn't mind, he never does-- and with a light, sinister laugh from him, one that promises that you're going to have a very, very long night ahead of you, your boyfriend speeds up the pace of his fingers that were fucking into you almost violently, until you're dripping all over his hand, just the way rafe cameron likes you to be.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Real Pretty

pairing: joel miller x reader

(AO3 mirror) summary: You and Joel are not in a relationship. But Joel gets jealous anyways. 

author's note: Timeline's a little hazy, au where Joel, Ellie and Y/N stay in Jackson and nothing bad happens ever. 

warnings: fluff, Joel's OOC as shit (what's new), filthy filthy smut (you have been warned), 18+ minors DNI

wc: 1.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can't stop staring. Oh god, he's pretty. You steal a glance at him with a mouthful of food by the canteen table. He's just woken up, by the looks of it: shirt a little wrinkled and hair all over the place. With a yawn, the base of his denim shirt lifts up to expose his tan belly, right at the v-line, with a dark tuft of hair leading right down to.. 

SLAM! Ellie bangs her tray on the table and clatters into her seat. 

"You look like shit." she says with a toothy grin. 

"And you smell like shit, you little gremlin." You snap, without missing a beat. Woah. Too much, maybe. 

She just laughs, her smile a bit wider, and that glint in her eye. "Oh yeah? Well I heard that somebody had a real good night yesterday." 

You pause to give Ellie a look. A look that says she's too young and too nosy. And, most importantly: what the fuck was she talking about? 

"That guy? Paulie or Peter or what's-his-face? Heard he slept over at the clinic." 

"Huh?" you splutter, almost choking on your food. 

"Kathy's mom saw him walking out of the clinic this morning. Using the backdoor. Everyone's talking about it." she tells you like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Ellie, nothing happened. And if it did it would be none of your business."

"Uh-huuh." 

"I'm serious. Nothing. Happened. You should know better than to trust gossip. This kind of thing can be really hurtful and you're lucky I don't-" 

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Joel definitely doesn't know." 

"Joel doesn't know what?" He walks up and pulls out the chair next to you, plate of food in one hand.

"Somebody," she looks you dead in the eye. "boinked Petey last night in the clinic but doesn't want to admit it." 

That last line made you squint. Ah. Now you get it. Ellie's attempt at revenge for teasing her about a certain crush she 'doesn't want to admit'. Touché. 

"Boinked?" Joel coughs into his eggs. "Jesus, forget I asked."

~~~

Later, Joel meets you in the makeshift office of the clinic after hours. It had been surprisingly quiet considering the bustle of the previous week. So much so, that you jolt at the knock at the door. You forgot he was coming over to mend a broken cupboard. 

He comes with a toolbox and kneels by the cupboards, propping up the broken door with one hand and a screwdriver in the other. The very door you had struggled to open and close not too long ago. He had picked it up with ease, and you watched in awe as his hands took out the worn screws, dexterous and nimble. The room was so quiet, you couldn't help yourself. 

"I patched him up and worked late. He took one of the beds and was out like a light, I swear." 

"I believe you." He doesn't look up. Is he mad? Jealous, even? His face was stoic, unreadable and so you kept going. 

"I was just taking inventory. And I can handle myself, you know that or else I never would've taken the chance." 

"I know." Nothing. Again. You slump in your chair and watch him finish up in silence. 

"Sweetheart," he says, packing up. "You're thinking out loud again."

His voice is soft and it makes you melt. "Everyone thinks something happened Joel. They're gonna think I'm a slut, or something."

He pads over and kneels so he's level with you. Gently, Joel cups your cheek with one hand, and puts his hand on your thigh with the other. 

"That's because you are a slut, sweetheart."

He kneads your thighs, creeping closer and closer to your core. "You're the prettiest fuckin' slut I've ever seen." 

Your mind goes blank when Joel's like this. Voice as soft as butter whispering the filthiest shit whilst stroking your pussy. His fingers ghost over your jeans and you whimper. "I'm not a- fuck!" 

He dips his hand into your underwear. Soaking wet and he's barely touched you. He keeps it slow, drawing lazy circles around your clit whilst holding you close. 

"Don't like hearing those things about you. They don't see you -fuck - like I do. You didn't fuck him, darlin', I know that. But he wanted to. You can see it in his eyes." He's faster now, dipping a finger in and out your hole like it's his job. You hold onto his forearm to steady yourself and hump his hand. Desperately chasing your climax. 

"That's it, that's it. Good fuckin' girl. You wanna cum?" He asks and you nod your head dumbly. "Use your words, darlin'. Need'ta hear you say it."

"Yes, yes, please Joel…. wanna cum-" 

He nods and you throw your head onto his shoulder, shaking as you cum into Joel's hands. He pulls his hand out of your jeans and licks them clean with hooded eyes. He's hard, cupping himself over his trousers and rocking slightly to relieve the pressure. What a sight; Joel Miller on his knees for you, because of you. 

You grab him by the lapel of his shirt and fall into a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You motion to take off his shirt and start to strip yourself. When your shirt comes off he presses hot kisses into your bare skin; mumbling profanities into your collarbone and the peak of your tits. 

His pants come off and you reach to pump him; his tip red and sticky with precum. He groans and grabs your hand, lips plump and swollen from kissing you. 

"-shit, not yet," He helps you stand, and bends you over the desk, bow-legged. You're hot and sticky and desperate now, whining for him to fill you up-

-and he does, in one swift motion, without any warning or prep. "You're gonna take what I give you, ain't that right sweetheart?" 

You nod haphazardly, whining under his grip. His hips piston into you at just the right angle, so fast you're seeing stars. 

"No-one else can fuck you like I can, don't forget that. Next time, a little shit like Petey comes round, you tell him you're mine, won't you?"  You're babbling now, incoherent as pleasure builds in your gut. "All mine. All. Fuckin'. Mine." 

With that, a coil snaps, and your legs collapse under the pleasure that washes over you. Joel is quick to follow, turning you around so that when he cums on your stomach, he can see the bliss on your face. Gently, he picks you up like a blushing bride into the next room, onto one of the treatment beds. He gets a towel from the supply cupboards and cleans you up, kissing your forehead. He clambers in next to you. It's a tight fit but he manages to snake an arm around and pull you towards him. Soft breath in your ear as you both stare up at the mottled ceiling, speckled in fluorescent light. Well, he did, anyway. You turn to look at him. 

He was even prettier this close. Real pretty. 

[dixons-sunshine]

Just A Bad Dream | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Despite being together for over a year, Daryl had never once uttered those three important words to you. You had never let it bother you, choosing to move at the archers preferred pace. One night, after a particularly bad dream, was when those important words were uttered to you.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Nightmares.

Word count: 1k.

A/n: Working on transferring all of my projects from my old phone to this one, so I wrote this little snippet instead to have something to post. Hope y'all like it! This was inspired by a post I saw on my dash but I don't know who made the original post.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“No. Please, no! Dun' hurt her, please!”

Stirred from your slumber by your partner's distressed mumbling, you turned over in the bed. You slowly rubbed the sleep from your eyes, clearing the sleep induced fog from your mind before turning your head towards the sleeping archer beside you.

Your heart clenched in pain at the sight of distress evident on his face. His eyes were scrunched tightly and his eyebrows were furrowed into a deep frown. His breathing was erratic and there was sweat rolling down his temple.

While deciding whether or not to gently shake Daryl awake, Daryl bolted upright in bed. “No!”

“Daryl?” you spoke softly, sitting up slowly and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. However, it seemed as though he was still stuck in a daze, because he jerked away from your touch, whipping his head to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Daryl, baby, it's okay! It's just me. It's just me. You're okay. You're here with me,” you reassured him in a soft voice, slowly placing your hand on his shoulder again. When he didn't flinch away this time, you brought both of your hands up to cup his cheeks. “You're okay.”

Daryl slowly nodded, his breathing sounding choked off. Unwillingly, a tear slipped from his glossy eyes, and you gently wiped it away with your thumb. Acting on instinct, Daryl moved forward and wrapped his arms around you, dropping his head onto your shoulder. A sob wracked through his body, causing your heart to break into a million pieces for the man who you loved dearly.

You placed a small, tender kiss to his temple, slightly rocking your bodies from side to side. You simply held Daryl in your arms and allowed him to cry it out, acutely aware of the fact that he rarely, if ever, cried. His emotions bottled over and this one particular nightmare was his breaking point. Whatever the nightmare was about, it must've been terrible for the strong archer to break down.

“He killed ya,” Daryl finally told you in a broken whisper, his voice cracking towards the end. “He killed ya and I couldn't stop him.”

“Who?” you gently urged, rubbing your hand soothingly over his back, hoping to bring him some comfort.

Daryl shook his head, tightening his arms around you. “I dun'—I dun' know,” he whispered with a strain in his voice, sniffling slightly. “It was Negan at first, but then it was my father, and after a while I couldn't tell 'em apart anymore. One of 'em brought that fuckin' bat over yer head and I had to watch. I couldn't stop him. I can't lose ya, I can't—”

You pressed another kiss to his head, holding the back of his head gently as he buried his head deeper into your shoulder. His tears were staining your—technically his—shirt, but you didn't even notice. Your only focus at that moment was to try and calm the archer down. To reassure him that it was only a nightmare, that you were okay.

“Daryl, hey. Look at me,” you softly urged him, watching carefully as he slowly lifted his head and looked into your eyes. “I'm okay. I'm right here. It was only a nightmare. Your father's dead and Negan is locked up. He might as well be dead. Neither of them will ever get to me or anyone else ever again.”

Daryl nodded, his eyes casting downwards. “I know. S'jus'... M'scared,” he admitted, bringing one of his hands up to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I can't lose ya. I jus' can't. I won't survive if somethin' happened to ya.”

“You won't lose me,” you reassured him, pulling him into your arms. Slowly and carefully, you lowered yourself down until you were laying back on the bed, Daryl now comfortably laying on your chest. “I promise you, nothing will happen to me. I won't go anywhere near Negan. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life, Dixon.”

Daryl chuckled softly, burying his head deeper into your chest. “I like the sound of tha',” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your chest. He sighed in content when he felt your fingers begin to thread through his hair, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling.

In no time at all, Daryl was yawning, eliciting a fond giggle from you. “Go to sleep, baby. I promise I'll be here when you wake up.”

Daryl nodded and allowed his body to relax, willing his mind to shut off. You were okay. He was okay. His father is dead and couldn't terrorize him anymore. Negan wasn't dead, but he was locked up and couldn't get out. Everything was starting to get better.

As he was being lulled into slumber, he let a confession fall from his lips, something he should've told you long ago:

“I love ya.”

You smiled softly down at him, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. You had waited for a long time to hear those three important words from him. Deep down, you always knew Daryl loved you, but hearing it from the man himself finally confirmed it. Your heart swelled with love, and you couldn't believe how lucky you had gotten with this beautiful man.

“I love you more, Daryl Dixon.”

You didn't know whether he had heard you or not. Everything was silent after you had said that. The warm press of Daryl's body against yours and the reassuring rise and fall of his chest lulled you into sleep as well. However, right before darkness overtook you, you heard him mumbling one last thing.

“I love ya the most, sunshine.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Crying bc that could never be me bc I never really had close guy friends when I was young please write a one shot or something of childhood friends y/n and Katsuki of Katsuki being immune to cooties and bringing these tendencies to UA together 😭

eeeee i was secretly hoping someone would ask me to talk about this more tehhehehe here you go ! I didn’t rlly get what you meant with him carrying the cootie thing to high school so i wrote this around your ask a lil, hope you don't mind ! i tried honoring your request as best i can, hope you enjoy !

fem reader, polar opposite’s trope except not POLAR opposite’s cus yn is a little shit on the low, mitsuki favoritism lol, mitsuki and katsuki arguing n bein sassy, katsuki gets embarrassed, mitsuki is mischievous, katsuki calling his mother old, yn calls mitsuki ‘miss’, pure fluff honestly, say it with me CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS TROPE WOHOOOO, mentions of making out n kissing, established relationship, cooties lol, lemme know if i missed sum else <3 !!

katsuki wants to do one of three things right now : dissapear, sink into the floor or die—and the more he hears his old hag babbling on and on to you with a familiar photo album in her lap, the more he's starting to find the all three options tempting.

" oh look, this was at you guys' kindergarten graduation ! you were both soooo small, do you remember that ?! "

he hears his mom gush from the other bigger living room couch she's sitting on with you. it's been 15 minutes since you had come over to his house and the plan was for you guys to hang out, watch a movie and get a make out session in before you leave or preferably have you sleep over.

that was the plan, until his old hag came and fucked it up.

15 minutes since she'd dragged you over to the couch and talked your ear off about whatever the fuck moms talk about and you, being the sweetheart that you are, listened patiently the whole time, chatting and giggling out jokes easily. katsuki really, really doesn't know how you do it but he sure as hell respects you for it.

you'd always insisted on being polite with his mom, something about staying in her good graces after you guys had started dating. katsuki thinks that's extremely stupid because his mom has loved you since that day in elementary school when he'd dragged you over to her, his little hand gripping yours tightly and proudly exclaiming you were the one he was gonna marry. you were sweeter and calmer than he was by far and she was immediatly enamoured with you. katsuki's damn near sure she loves you more than she loves him. that in itself isn't the problem. the problem was that she's been hogging you ever since you walked in the door.

usually, katsuki's fast enough to drag you up to his room before she can get her claws in you, but he wasn't fast enough today and that's how he ended up in his current predicament.

" and this one when you came over for christmas—oh, katsuki begged me to let you stay over, you know ? you cannot believe how loud he can get when he doesn't get his way, started rolling around on the floor n' everything ! "

katsuki feels his ears redden the more he listens to this conversation and he wishes so bad for you guys to just fucking go. he could go to his room and avoid this entire conversation in theory, but he'd rather avoid his mom telling you some other embarrassing stories that you absolutely do not need to know about, so he concedes and tries his best to drown the conversation out, scrolling on his phone.

"ou, i have an adorable picture of katsuki in the bath let me find—"

" DON'T FUCKIN’ SHOW HER THAT, HAG ?! " katsuki shrieks, startling you, his mom looks surprised for no more than a milisecond before shooting him a nasty glare unphased by her son's outburst. "what's got you pipin' up now, brat ?" she asks unimpressed.

katsuki practically zooms over and snatches the album away from his mother's grip, shooting her a glare identical to her own. " i'm gonna burn this in your sleep one of these days, i swear. " he grumbles, trudging off to put the album back on one of the shelves of his living room and ignoring his mom wishing him good luck with that. katsuki feels like he's lost a battle when he hears you giggle quietly when he turns away, no doubt his mother had said something about how he was embarrassed to have you see his baby pictures. he vows to get revenge and thinks the best way to start is by throwing this cursed collection of pictures on an open fire. he decides to just put it back on the shelf for now.

“ what a spoilsport, am i right ?” mitsuki nudges you with her shoulder and you giggle at what katsuki personally finds a horrible joke. to each their own though, or whatever.

katsuki scoffs to himself. he makes his way back to the couch and stands in front of you both, arms crossed.

“you done hoggin’ my girlfriend now or are you gonna keep yappin’ some more ?” mitsuki scoffs at her son’s words, wrapping her arms around your frame and pulling you against her tightly when she sees katsuki’s hand creeping towards you, assuming he'd try to pull you away.

“ i’m sure you can be patient for a little longer, as hard as i know it is for you.” you hear katsuki scoff out an insult under his breath, mitsuki pays it no mind. “besides, yn has been enjoyin’ our conversation so far, haven’t ya sweetie ?” she asks. you, again, being the sweet thing that you are, happily nod with a smile. mitsuki looks up at her son with a smug look, her expression screams “see ?”.

“ she’s only agreein’ cus yer fuckin’ holdin’ her hostage.” katsuki grumbles. he feels his patience dwindling at a pace that should definitely be alarming. he looks at you and feels his heart flutter when you offer him an apologetic smile. his patience returns the slightest bit.

“hostage ? don’t be ridiculous katsuki—” then it’s as if a lightbulb goes off, katsuki can practically see it gleaming above her head and he really doesn’t like it.

“he’s always been like that y’know ? all clingy—you remember that right ?!”the excitement in her voice becomes more prominent when she sees you nod enthusiastically. katsuki has a strange, foreboding feeling about this.

“ i remember he’d constantly want you around holdin’ his hand everywhere. one time—" she pauses as she bursts into giggles that, to katsuki, sound more like witch cackles than anything.

“one time you refused to hold his hand because you got scared he’d get cooties” she chuckles. katsuki feels his stomach drop.

“but he said that wouldn’t happen because he was too strong to get them !”

fuck patience.

katsuki grabs you and stalks off so fast you feel like you’re floating a little bit. he quickly yells out a “we’re goin’ to my room, don’t fuckin’ bother us !” then he’s quickly running up the stairs with you in tow. it’s only when you get to the hallway that leads to his bedroom that he looks back at you. he rolls his eyes when he sees you clearly fighting back a laugh.

“be quiet.”

“i didn’t even say anything yet !” you defend, giggling at the same time. katsuki fights back a smile at the sound.

“yeah, but you were going to and i don’t wanna hear it.” he bites. he squeezes your hand afterwards, telling you it was a joke in his own way. in actuality, katsuki could listen to you talk for hours and hours, days on end without getting bored. you’re being a brat right now though, so he won’t tell you that.

you smile at his back as katsuki drags you along muttering to himself about how he “never should’ve left you with that old witch for so long.”

“i remember that, y’know ? the cootie thing.” you admit jokingly. walking up a little faster you catch up to him and walk side by side. he glances at you from the corner of his eye then looks away and scoffs “of course you do.” he groans.

“ you’re mom didn’t mean to embarrass you, i’m sure.” you try to console him despite still snickering at the memory of his face going beet red after his mom had ‘exposed’ him. “and it was nice to see those pictures. it felt all...nostalgic.” you reminisce about the summer days you’d spent over the years with your katsuki with a smile. remembering the days of adventures and melting ice cream. of waterparks and bandaged covered knees.

katsuki doesn’t make a sound next to you and you think he’s just ignoring you until he speaks again, the scowl on his face threatens to melt away. “that old bat had it out for me the entire time. she’s fuckin’ evil incarnate, just doesn’t show it to you.” he feels prideful when he hears you laugh “that’s mean !” you scold through giggles, but his smirk says he’s seen through you. he comes to a stop and backs you up until your back is against the wall.

“yer laughin’ though. not as much of an angel as you’re pretending to be, are ya ?” he teases, leaning in closer to you until your noses brush. you try to fight back the smile that pulls at your mouth but it doesn’t work and after a moment you’re giggling again. katsuki swears every time you laugh an angel gets its wings. he steals a sloppy kiss to hear the sound again.

your hands play with the hem of his plain black shirt. he’s handsome, too handsome. his outfit consisted of a plain black t-shirt and some sweatpants yet he still looks like a model and it makes you want to kiss him silly, call it revenge for looking so good.

“ i’m not pretending to be anything, definitely not an angel.” you chuckle “unlike you, i’m just being nice.” you stick your tongue at him and he chuckles. rolling his eyes, he scoffs. his warm hands reflexively start running up and down your waist.

“yeah well, that’s cus unlike me your ass gets to go home. you’d be less nice if you were stuck in here like i am.” you playfully roll your eyes at his dramatics

“i doubt that. besides, miss mitsuki likes me !”

“she’ll get mad at you for callin’ her miss again.” you gasp, quickly clasping your hand over your mouth as if his mom would hear you from here. katsuki’s snort makes you snort as well.

“c’mon” he urges after a minute, grabbing at your hand and tugging at it “we’re goin’ to my room.” he mumbles out a “fuckin’ finally” and you laugh.

then you get an idea.

you suddenly rip your hand from his and katsuki immediately stops dead in his tracks to stare back at you like you had just insulted him. you let out a tiny snort at his expression.

“the hell are you doin’ ?”

you clasp your hands behind your back and sigh, even looking down at the floor sadly for extra dramatic effect “we can’t risk it, suki.”

“hah ?” katsuki fully turns to you, slowly starting to grow worried at your sudden shift in attitude. “what’re you talking about ?”

“i mean..if we hold hands..” you slowly look up at him, revealing your shit eating grin “you might get cooties..”

katsuki looks at you for about 15 seconds with an incredulous look on his face and you burst out laughing. he’s definitely one of the most expressive people you’d ever met, so seeing what kind of faces he’ll makes next is always fun.

he walks over, grabs your hand and squeezes hard, as punishment you assume. you yelp through giggles.

you hear him let out a disappointment sigh when he turns his back to you and drags you to his room again. you happily follow along behind him like you’d done for years now.

"i really shouldn't have left you with that old hag for so long." he mutters bitterly. you let out a snort and smile to yourself, content that your plan to mess with your boyfriend ended up being succesful. you perk up when he suddenly huffs out a laugh.

" and anyways, i won't be gettin' any cooties. m'too cool for 'em." you laugh out loud and the way he grips your hand a little tighter tells you you don't need to see his face to know he's proud of that.

"what if i have them ?" you challenge in between snickers.

katsuki scoffs dissaprovingly, you can basically see him rolling his eyes despite his back being to you.

"you don't. only losers get cooties. and as far as i know, you're not a loser." he's a little embarrassed because this is reminding him too much of when you were kids and it makes him cringe. when he'd come up with excuses like him being 'too strong' or 'too cool' to get cooties because he just couldn't admit he simply wanted you close. "yer anythin' but." you hear him mumble.

you walk up next to him with a somewhat shy smile "i'm flattered you think of me that way." you confess.

"don't let it get to your head." katsuki quips. you respond by sticking your tongue at him again. he tries to ignore the loud thumping of his heart but it's not going too smoothly for him. his cheeks slowly redden and he looks away from you again, not before shooting you an eyeroll.

"hope you know you owe me extra cuddle time for wastin' it talkin' to my ma." katsuki adds, changing the subject. you smile up at him in response and offer him a sweet 'mhm !'

his mom may have embarrassed the shit out of him, but he figures it wasn't all bad. he's still deadset on destroying that photo album before she ends up showing you that picture of him in the bath, though. he'll think about a plan later but right now he plans to enjoy his cuddle time with you, cootie free.

[the-californicationist]

Hello Cali ❤️. Por alguna razón no te había visto más en mi muro de tumblr y me preguntaba si no estabas aquí, por eso busqué tu perfil y me di cuenta que tumblr me estaba jugando una mala pasada.

How are you??? I'm so busy because I have a loooot of work, pero me tomaré el tiempo de leer todo lo que me perdí de ti ✨✨✨

YOU ARE THE BEST, OK? I LOVE YOU ❤️💍

Quisiera que escribieras un smut de John Price CEO/Mafia con un Reader inteligente y astuto, que queda cautivado cuando John comienza a seducirla, porfis ✨

Anything for you, my friend!! I love you so much <3 <3

Wonderland

John Price is a famous mob boss... but you don't know that. All you know is that you've got a crush on a mysterious, handsome man, and you're willing to go all the way to find out if his bite is as bad as his bark.

The parking garage was dark, and the concrete seemed to hold in the cold like a freezer. It felt like ice on his cheekbone, and not even the blood from his eye socket was enough to warm the skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, that odd whooshing sound, and in a distant memory he could recall the first time he had ever gotten a black eye. But, all that was gone now. He had ratted out the one man that no one had dared fuck with in the past five years: John Fucking Price.

Those fucking coppers had said they’d protect him. He even had his people outside his house every hour of every day. How could this happen? He had to admit, he wasn’t even scared, he was just pissed off. Fucking bastards. They’d get what was coming to them. Maybe he’d tell them so. Not like they'd give him any more chances.

“Fuck you, Price. I hope those pigs skin you alive,” he spit out the blood that had began to pool in his mouth, and hoped it hit those stupid boots John was always wearing.

John Price slid his shoe away from the red stain that had began to swell on the ground, keeping his kangaroo leather Berlutis from ruin. The fool beneath his feet had no idea what was about to happen to him, and John almost felt sorry about it, if only for a moment. He and Vinson had been friends once. Hell, he’d even stood up at his wedding. 

“Vince, what did I tell you about that bloody mouth of yours? Said it'd get you into trouble, didn't I? Wish there was something I could do for you now, cause you and me, we used to be mates. But, I can't afford friends like you. Not anymore," Price gave the rat a quick shove with his heel and watched as the stain smeared in a thin streak across the cement. He turned to his men,

"Well, lads, I've got a party to get to. You wouldn't mind cleaning things up here for me, would’ya?"

"No, boss," was their quiet reply.

"You'll be sorry, you goddamn pussy!" Vinson was screaming now, "I hope they hang you from the fuckin’-”

Bang! The loud gunshot echoed through the hollow space.

Vinson didn't say anything after that.

"Let's get outta here, Gaz."

"Right away, boss," Gaz opened the door to the limo and prepared to drive John back into the city. There was a big gala at the Genting Casino tonight, and Mr. John T. Price was never late.

He was never early either. In fact, he was perfection incarnate. When he was younger, that wasn't always the case, but after his father died, he had needed to change. No one was fit to rule Liverpool in his stead, and he was thankful that no one had been foolish enough to try. His father had made this town what it is. Liverpool was built by his family, and even though everyone thought the Price regime had grown tired of their reign on the old docks, they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

John had his cut from all of the major casinos, and he traded security in exchange. He owned two of them himself, along with four shopping malls, five bars, three neighborhoods, two apartment complexes, and a golf course - not to mention the property that wasn't in his name. He made sure to give his men plenty of reign over their own enterprises, even if most of them were strip clubs. But, he didn't care. As long as tribute came in every quarter, he never messed around in their business.

He thought Vinson was one he could trust. He'd even given him a car dealership just last month. 

"Don't run it into the ground, Vince," he had said.

But, no. What had the little bastard gone and done? Put a tracker on his car and dropped bugs in his office. After everything he'd done for him, that's how he was repaid? To tell the truth, John never liked violence. It was awkward. But, his father had given him fists and showed him how to use them, so there was really no going against it. Violence and fear were vital pieces of the only language that men like Vince could understand. Now, with another family coming to Liverpool, John had to be on his best behavior. Even if 'best' was a little more loosely defined.

As he lit the tip of his last cigar, he reminded Gaz to grab him another few sticks on the way home. Gaz would've never turned coat on him like Vince did. He'd give him the car lot.

"You want the dealership on Sefton street, Kyle?" He offered.

"Sure, boss. Thanks a lot," Gaz smiled, knowing exactly which business he was talking about, "You want me to pull around back?"

They had arrived at the main entrance. Throngs of people were craning around the limo, trying to see who was inside. John thought about it for a second, smushed his cigar tip into the ashtray, and adjusted his tie.

"Nah," he said, "We'll give them the show tonight."

"Sure thing, boss."

Gaz parked the car and leapt out of the cab. His hand was on the door before John could take another breath, and on either side of the door, some of Price’s own foot soldiers took up their posts as bodyguards. When he emerged from the muffled quiet of the limo, it shocked John for a moment to be in such a whirl of chaos.

"Mr. Price, can I get a photo?"

"Over here, please, Mr. Price," a cute reporter was frantic enough to step in front of his men. They picked her up and put her back in the crowd.

John made sure to smile and wave, shake hands with those he had seen before, but he knew it was safer inside. 

The manager greeted him warmly and, he noted, by first name,

"John! Good to see you again, mate. We've got just the table for you, tonight. Wait til you see the legs on these girls! It'll be a night to remember."

"I'm sure it will."

"Ah, sorry, but we don't allow weapons past the main floor," the manager's face fell. So did Kyle’s. 

Gaz cleared his throat,

"I'm sure you can make an exception for Mr. Price. We'll be very discreet."

It was more of a threat than a promise, and John smiled at his friend's heavy tone. Kyle was anything if not polite.

"Uh, yes, we can certainly make arrangements. Right this way, gentlemen," and now the manager was nothing if not nervous. Perfect.

The night continued as well as it could, but he had never really enjoyed gambling. Why make all this money if he was just going to throw it into the wind? But, he could mingle with the right people here. Except that these weren't his people. He had come as a favor to his long time friend, Alex Keller, but Alex was nowhere to be found. 

"Passed out on his missus’ tits, probably!" One of the strangers guffawed at the other end of the Blackjack table. 

"He’ll show, don't you worry," another replied.

Well, John didn't have all night to wait on a man to get to his own party. He needed a drink. When he rose to head to the bar, Gaz stopped him,

"I'll get it, boss. No need to bother yourself with it."

The table was silent. The strangers who had been so brassy before were now silent and transfixed on the pair of men at their table, one of whom was important enough to have his slightest whim catered to at a moment's notice.

"It's alright, Garrick. Play my hand, yeah? I'm headed out for a smoke."

"Yes, sir."

John retreated. The awkward stares and weird glances were too much for him to bear. Surely there was a patio around here, somewhere.

By the time he found one, he was disappointed to see it was occupied.

"Oh, beg your pardon. Thought I was alone out here," he said.

To his shock, it was a woman's voice that responded from the shadows. Your voice. 

"You're fine. You got a light? Fuckin’ matches are all wet..." You fumbled with the book, striking to no avail.

He smirked,

"I have the fire if you've got an extra smoke."

"Fair trade," you smiled back jokingly. 

You were dressed in a clean chef's coat, your hair was pulled up, and you might have been going without makeup, but it was almost too dark to tell. It certainly wasn't casino makeup, that was for sure. John watched as you tugged two cigarettes free from the box, put them to your soft lips, and covered his flame with your hand. Your fingernail paint was pink and chipped. You pulled in the fire of both cigarettes and offered one to him. He took it,

"Thanks."

You grunted in a minimal response.

"So, you're a chef?" He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him the glare he deserved for such an obvious question.

He back pedaled, 

"I mean, you work here as a chef. I just thought, with the coat...I mean, where's your big bloody hat? You need the hat."

You laughed. It was wonderful to hear, and he liked the way your mouth moved when you started to speak,

"Yeah, I work here. Have for the past three years or so. Bill signed me on as head chef, and I've been slaving away for him ever since."

"Bill?"

"Oh, he's the culinary manager. Runs all the restaurants in the casino and the hotel. When the last guy disappeared into thin air, they had to scramble to find someone, I guess. What about you? Where's your fancy hat? Based on that Hermes tie, I'm gonna assume you're here with the party."

He mindlessly adjusted his tie, noticing its feel on his neck as she called it out,

"Well, I might be."

"Yeah? You some kind of big-shot?" You eyed him again, challenging him to answer with something more than a yes or a no. You had heard yes and no plenty of times.

"I might be," he wouldn't give in.

"If we keep going like this all night, you might end up being the Queen, for all I know."

You both laughed, but then, you sighed, 

"Oh well, Mr. Mystery. Keep your secrets then," you shrugged and turned away from him.

He couldn't have that.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Sarah," you spun back around, "Rachel. Tiffany. Willamina. Might be anything."

You had the audacity to wink at him.

"Alright, you got me, love," he moved a little closer to you, "I'm John. John Price."

He extended his hand and waited for the bad news to sink in. No one who knew his name in this town would be dumb enough to be on a patio alone with him at night. He had dodged the media for a long time, but his trials always managed to get leaked. Twelve accounts of assault and battery, two separate accounts of theft, three murder charges - all acquitted of course. But, still, he was no stranger to ducking the law.

"John? Of all the names," you shook your head and smiled, taking his hand firmly, "Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. You've never heard of me?"

"Oh, Jesus," you lamented, "Are you famous or something? Look, if I'm not in the kitchen, I'm at home asleep. Sorry. I don't even watch TV."

"No, nothing like that, I just - " He thought about it for a moment before you saw him decide to take a different trajectory, “Not famous.”

“Why is it that I feel a little bit like Alice tonight?” You took a long drag and let the smoke fall from your lips, “Like I’m following a white rabbit down a deep, dark hole.”

He chuckled, and you enjoyed seeing his eyes shine with his laughter,

“If you follow me down,” he sidled up to you, his face close enough to yours so you could smell the balsam in his aftershave, “I’ll show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

A man’s voice cleared his throat behind you, and you both turned to look at who it was. 

“Garrick?” John asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Yes, sir. Johnny and Simon made it up. They said they know why Keller hasn’t shown.”

John didn’t answer. He simply turned back to look into your eyes, trying to divine some sort of future from them. He must’ve liked what he saw because the next thing you knew, you were being given a golden key card. Top floor. 

Not famous, my arse, you thought to yourself. 

“Why don’t you take the night off, love. Come see Wonderland, yeah? I’ll be right behind you.”

“My, my,” you said, palming the card from him, “No one ever tells you no.”

Another smile, a little colder than the first,

“No, they don’t.”

“Maybe I will,” you pulled the tiger’s tail.

“You won’t,” the tiger growled back.

As you watched him leave the small patio, his broad back stretching that expensive suit, his thick fingers flicking his half-smoked cigarette off the balcony’s edge, you were kicking yourself. You knew you were going up to his room, even though something inside of you really wanted to yank this guy’s chain. But, his dark, purring voice had made Wonderland sound so inviting… maybe just one little peek wouldn’t hurt?

You waited a whole five minutes before slinking off to the service elevator, cutting out for the night. No one was making dinner anyway; it was the bar that was slammed. You’d already cleaned and prepped your station, so no one would miss you. 

You ducked into the bathroom just before the top floor, getting off on the service side in an empty hallway, checking your face for stray flour or coffee stained teeth. You smelled like a pizza oven, but maybe you could sneak a shower before he showed up?.

What a slut, you heard the angel on your shoulder chastise you. 

So, what? The devil’s side replied, indignant. 

You peeled the chef’s coat off of your body. All you had underneath was a black tee. It was cropped a bit too high for work, but you wore it anyway. Your black work pants were covered in flour and dried food. You brushed them off as best you could. It would have to do. You shoved your coat into your bag and headed back to the hallway. 

Luckily, the main elevator was vacant, as was the hallway, so you wouldn’t run into any other guests on your way to Wonderland. 

The angel rolled his eyes. The devil glared at him. 

The elevator dinged, and you inserted the gold card, clicking the very topmost button to the penthouse. 

You’d been up here before. Sometimes, you picked up cleaning shifts on your off days for the extra cash, so you knew the layout. But, that had been in the cold, hygienic light of day. At night, this floor was a sparkling vision. When the elevator doors opened, huge clear windows reached all the way into the ceiling, framing Liverpool’s city center, looking more beautiful than it ever seemed from the ground. 

You took quiet, uncertain steps out of the lift, checking for any signs of life. There were none, so you made your way to the bathroom. Huge black marble monolith slabs were carved in a semicircle, a nautilus that curled around the four separate shower heads, all ready to pour their steaming water down your naked body. 

You stripped, stepping into the stream, letting yourself pretend that you lived in this sort of luxury for a moment. A soft lather of soap and a little shampoo later and you were clean. The single-use toothbrush and paste was in the hidden drawer that no guest would ever notice, so you stole an extra set, scrubbing yourself to a minty shine. 

A pair of black satin robes hung in the closet, so you stole one, tying it around your waist, fully aware that one stiff breeze and the loose-fitting garment would fly right off of you. The soft fabric lay against your skin in the most sensual way, barely touching you and yet making you feel touched. 

You explored the hotel room a bit, avoiding Mr. Price’s suitcase like it would bite you. The kitchen came stocked with ice buckets of champagne, so you helped yourself to one, pouring a glass and lounging by the window, wondering how long you’d have to wait for your date. 

Fortunately for you, only an hour had passed and you heard the elevator ding. Out from the dark lift came the man himself… bleeding from his lip.

“John! What happened?” You put down your wine and rushed over to him. 

He held you back, waving you off like it was nothing,

“Don’t worry, love. Just a bit of a scuffle, tha’s all.”

“But —”

“Seriously,” he grabbed you by your arms and looked you up and down, enjoying the wide opening of the robe as it revealed your body to him, “You should see the other bloke. Let me get cleaned up. Pour me one of those, would’ya?”

Before you could protest, he ducked into the bathroom, out of your reach. You were left standing there, worried and a little concerned for your own wellbeing. You didn’t actually know this man at all, and here you were, lamb to the slaughter, eager and bleating happily. 

While he was in the bath, you decided to do a little research. You searched up his name, and you were finding almost no hits, until you stumbled upon a mugshot.

There he was… the notorious mob boss, ruler of the English underground arms dealing circuit, enforcer and racketeering extraordinaire. And here you were, nearly naked in his room with not so much as a penknife within reach. This guy had been in the armed forces, special forces, black ops — the works. He retired and fell into the armed security world, making a name for himself by pushing out the competition by any means necessary. His father had maintained ties to the dark underground, and now John had taken over the family business, doing shady deals for the government and crime organizations alike. All of it was hearsay, of course, and none of the charges had ever landed a single hit… but you knew the truth. 

John Price was the most dangerous man in the world; Liverpool’s crime arena was just a quiet little hobby for a man like him. If he wanted to, he could make you disappear like a magician behind a mirror. Gone without a trace.

What would you do? Would you run? Where would you go? How would you explain your sudden exit? Food poisoning?

Before you could even begin to formulate a plan, John was out of the shower. He looked incredible. His hulking, heavy form was steaming from the hot water, and his hairy chest was uncovered. He’d slipped into a pair of running shorts and nothing else, so his brutal body was on display for you. He was covered in scars, and he was heavyset, but his largeness was from his strength. His core was bulky and strong, and when he moved, you could see the tight muscles rolling around beneath the skin like a snake ready to strike. 

He turned to you, but even though he wore a smile at first, the moment he made eye contact, his face fell. Somehow, he knew that you knew.

He sighed,

“What did you see?”

He rushed over to his suitcase but found it still locked, looking back to you quizzically. You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. John stepped over to you slowly, deliberately, almost as if he was ready for another fight. 

You turned your phone towards him and showed him his own mugshot.

“Thought you said you weren’t famous,” you whispered. Your voice sounded so small and far away, you almost felt like you hadn’t spoken the words. 

He smiled bitterly, tossing his towel on a nearby chair and sat beside you on the bed,

“Cat’s out of the bag, then?”

“Yeah,” you looked down at your phone, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Go on,” he waved his hand at you, motioning toward the door, “Get out.”

You didn’t move. You should have. Every fiber in your being was telling you to make a break for it. Now was your chance. And yet… you stayed. It was silent for a long while. You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and heavy. His breaths rumbled in his chest. 

“Go!” He spat, “No one’s keeping you prisoner here, girl. That’s me, alright, and the newspapers don’t even know the bloody half of it. Just go.” 

You reacted to his volume, shirking back a bit, but you still didn’t stand. You looked at him then, searching for the kindness you thought you saw on the patio just hours before, checking to see if it was still there, if it was even real.

When you met his eyes, his fury was masking a very real pain. He was angry, sure, but the ache of being cast out was apparent, even though you were the one doing the leaving, and you just wanted that bit of brightness back again. 

John studied you, watching your every movement, trying to determine what you were thinking but coming up short. He stood right in front of you, his hips inches from your face, and he asked,

“What are you waitin’ on, love?”

A strong thumb lifted your chin, raising your jaw up to look at him again, and he used his enormous hand to grab your face, keeping you there under his will. 

“I know you’re afraid of me,” he commented softly, “I can feel it.”

“So?” You replied, trying to keep your tone steady. 

His voice was bitter and mocking, and as he leaned forward, you could smell his clean, warm skin, 

“You wanna play with the big bad wolf, hm? See if I bite?” 

He grabbed you a little too tightly, trying to scare you. It worked, but you tried not to show it. Instead, you decided to place both of your hands at his hips, your palms flat against his warm belly, feeling the dark hair that formed a faithful trail, guiding your eyes down to his waistband. 

It was his turn to be surprised. You felt his breathing catch as you moved your hands up along his ribcage, rubbing gentle circles into his skin, petting him like a skittish hound, expecting him to snap. 

Letting go of your face, he grabbed your wrist, and just as you thought he was going to stop you, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, stretching your arm all the way up from where you were sat, making you extend your spine as you reached up to him. Your fingers traced the fur that lay flat against his pectorals, and finally, you plucked at his nipples, not allowing there to be any question as to your intentions. 

The tip of his wide finger dipped into the silken collar of your robe, swirling around your neck and following it down to the swell of your breast. He didn’t find your peak, but he didn’t seem to care to. He was just exploring. 

Suddenly, John moved faster than you could even begin to understand what was happening. He had reached under you, lifting you, and then tossed you back down on the bed. You lay, sprawled, trying to catch your bearings, and then you were covered by his huge form, his wide body casting shadows over your vision, cloaking you in his own private darkness.

His mouth was on you like a hot flame, licking and burning and biting and sucking wherever he wanted to, eager to taste every inch of your skin, the imperfections of a wrinkle or a freckle seemed to go fully unnoticed as he devoured you, sucking you down like his last meal. 

You were overwhelmed by the pleasure he was stoking inside of you, and you let a small mewling sound escape from your lips that caught his attention. 

“Mm,” he climbed up your body so that you were face to face, “Enjoying your walk on the dark side, love? Think you’re tainted by me now? Or maybe that’s what you wanted, is it? Something naughty, just for a night?”

You didn’t understand his negativity, nor the self-deprecation, so you tried to protest, 

“No, I —”

“It’s alright. I’ll show you how to be a bad girl. I’ll teach you, love. C’mere.”

His voice was smoldering and sticky, clinging to your ears with some of that same bitterness from before. But, you didn’t have time to worry about that. He was standing by the bedside again, and he grabbed your arms, making your head and shoulders hang part way off of the mattress. You were left staring at his thick thighs and scarred knees, worried about what he was up to.

Then, all became clear. He had dropped his running shorts, and the fattest cock you’d ever seen hung down, shining with drool, ready to be fed into your mouth. 

Your eyes went wide, and although you reached your hand out to try and brace against his legs, it was no use. He supported your head from underneath and bent himself over until the tip of his swollen cockhead touched your lips, the gleaming precome sticking to you like gloss. 

Unwilling to be frightened by his aggression, you opened your mouth for him, laving your tongue across his turgid flesh, allowing him to press himself inside of you. 

His cock was slick on the head but dry on his shaft, so you did your best to wet him, licking and sucking as he pumped himself in and out, already nearing the back of your throat and not even halfway sheathed. 

When he nudged your soft palate, making you gag a bit, you made a noise. You tried steadying him with your hand, and he grunted, grabbing both of your arms by the wrist, holding them above your face, clutched to his hip. Then, he continued to fuck your face, ignoring your writhing gasps for breath. 

Your throat tightened around him, but you tried to stay calm. You’d never taken anyone this deep before, but you stilled yourself, ignoring the urge to panic, and you made a point to swallow, feeling your throat squeeze around his head. You could taste him as he painted the back of your throat, salty and sweet at the same time. 

That made him moan, and you felt like you’d won some sort of battle. If he was trying to frighten you, it was going to take more than just a little rough sex. 

“Mm, fuck… Maybe you are a naughty little girl, aye?”

You hummed, making sure you could feel the vibrations travel through his girth. 

He removed himself fully, taking a trail of your own drool with him, gasping from the pleasure of your mouth. 

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he muttered darkly, crawling over you and settling himself between your legs. 

You tried to lift yourself back onto the bed, but he kept you hanging there, pinning you down with his strong arm, pressing into your belly with his hand to prevent you from sitting up. Finally, after feeling him kiss and nip at your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, you felt the warm, wet slip of his tongue as it fell between your lips, tasting your throbbing pussy for the first time. 

The robe was half-off, and only the tie around your waist was even providing any coverage, and you realized that as he began to eat you, he was yanking off your clothes as well, ripping through the knot of the robe to free you from the fabric. 

Now, his mouth moved deeper, and you felt him seal his lips to your pussy, messily drinking you in. As he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth and jaw were strong enough to rock your body up and down on the soft bed, making it seem as if he were actually using his smooth wet muscle as a writhing cock, thrusting it up into you and reaching deep into your hole.

The scruff of his beard was enough to make you want to come, much less the power that he ate you with. Every deep, curling lick sent sparks into your core, making your pussy drip with eager stickiness. It was hungry for that fat, uncut cock, forcing you to imagine how delightful it would be when he popped his giant head into your pink flesh. 

You were keening for him. Well, it wasn’t exactly for him, per se. The noises you were making were coming from your throat against your will. If you didn’t scream, you’d pass the hell out, you were sure of it. 

“Fuck, that’s it, love. Get loud for me. Ungh… you taste… mmfh… so damn sweet,” he was ruthless, speaking between long suckles from his mouth, commanding you from below. 

You wished you could see him, but all you could see from your hanging position was the giant window, looking out across the sparkling city. So, you called out to him, your voice thick with want, with need,

“John…”

That was all it took. He tugged your hips down until he was above you again, prowling over you like some sort of beast, all snarling unbridled lust and appetite. As soon as he was in position — and your body knew he was in position — everything stopped. He stopped. 

John looked down at you and became… different. The flirty bloke from the patio was back, and he smiled at you. You smiled back, out of breath and already drunk with hunger, but that was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, making you taste your own musk, and as his soft lips slid over yours, you felt the pressure of his huge cock at your hole, pressing through your folds to reach your hot, soaked center. 

You gasped through his kiss, both of you moaning in the same timbre as you felt his heavy dick fit into you for the first time, a sparkling desire swirling within you as every delicious inch of him buried itself in you. He began to thrust himself up into your aching slit, fucking you on half of his length, and then using your own sticky fluid to slip himself the rest of the way in. 

“Bloody hell, this fuckin’ pussy… fuck me,” he groaned, wrenching his eyes shut from the pleasure. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” He asked, seeking your praise. 

“You’re fucking huge,” you didn’t mean to sound so concerned, but there was a part of you that was. 

He sat back on his heels, taking some of the pressure away, staring down at your body lecherously, savoring your tits and fondling them in his hands,

“Alright, love?”

“You feel so good,” you insisted, wrapping your hands around his arms as he enjoyed your body. 

“Tell me again,” he said, grunting again as he fucked his cock deeper inside of you, reaching a new end before dragging himself all the way back out just so he could start the journey again. He upped his tempo, pounding into you with his weight, the loud smack of his body against yours beating into you like a drum. 

“Tell. Me. Again,” he growled his warning, snarling down at you, pinching your nipple to punish you for your silence. 

You were gasping for breath. He was so deep now, you could feel the pressure of it in your belly. Between sharp intakes of air, you hissed, 

“You… feel.. so… fucking… good…”

“That’s my girl,” he bent over you again and that familiar pressure returned. His cock was too big, and yet you took it anyway. Your body was panic and pleasure all at the same time, and he had you pinned down for the ride of your life. 

You weren’t sure how many hours passed that night. He seemed to have the stamina of a much younger man, and every time you dozed off, you’d wake up again to fingers or tongue or cock playing inside of your folds, coaxing you to open yourself up to him. You were happy to oblige, but you were properly fuck drunk. If someone asked you for the alphabet, you weren’t positive you trusted your answer. But, when John Price asked you to open your mouth or your legs for him, you were the top scholar. 

A golden, creamy dawn was rising up over the docks as you stared out the window. John’s hand was rubbing your bare back in long, relaxing strokes, and he was leaving soft, lazy kisses down your spine. You knew you were a mess. Your hair was tangled; you’d thrown it up into a messy bun on the second runthrough, done with trying to pretend to be a pristine hot girl. Your body was covered in his marks. Bruises from his teeth and red welts from a delightful slap on the ass or two were painted across you like little tattoos to commemorate your coupling. 

“You alright, love?” He checked in on you. 

He’d been checking in all night. For all his ruthlessness, he never crossed a line, and he never forgot to make sure you were safe. Sometime in the wee hours, he’d even made you drink a bottle of water and eat some fruit to hydrate, teasing you with grapes like some sort of earthly Baccus. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Looks like it’s time for me to get out of your hair. Not sure I should be seen by the public in my current state.”

“You have work, or…” John looked confused. 

You thought about lying to him for a moment. It would hurt so much less for you to just break it off now in the soft dawn glow rather than a painful goodbye over cold breakfast. But, you didn’t.

“No, just… don’t wanna fool myself into thinking this was something that it wasn’t.”

Your truth hung there in the air for a moment, but before he could open his mouth to reply, you heard the elevator ding.

You turned to look at it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled you off the bed and forced you to the floor. It was so fast that you didn’t even realize what he’d done until your nose was in the carpet. Then, you heard a sharp, snapping pop of something hitting the bed.

You watched in horror as John’s hand reached under the mattress and pulled out a small pistol. He held it like a professional, calm and trained, and shot twice. Then, it was quiet again. 

He helped you to your feet, and he was telling you something, but your brain wasn’t registering his words. What had happened? Why were there bullet holes in the mattress? Who had he shot?

Then, you saw it. A man’s body was laying across the door of the elevator. Wanting to descend, the elevator’s alarm wailed, beeping and beeping. 

John grabbed your jaw and made you listen to him,

“We have to go. Now. Get your clothes on. Now. Now.”

“Okay…” You couldn’t move. It was so hard to even lift your arms. They felt like solid lead. You just wanted to sink back to the floor. Maybe if you could just…

“Hey! Now!”

He shoved your clothes into your hands and you started to put them on, doing your best not to look at the elevator. John was packing a black bag, half-dressed himself, and checking the windows over and over, looking for something in the streets below. 

“There’s no time, c’mon, love.”

You felt his hand cover yours as he led you to the elevator. You watched him ruthlessly kick the body away from the doors and push you inside. Once you were in, the doors closed and you rode in silence with him. You could only hear your heart in your ears. 

“...to my car. Stay close to me.”

“Okay…” It was all you could say. No other words even dared to come to mind.

“Hey,” he held your face in his as the floor numbers dropped to the teens, “You’re alright. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

The doors opened, and you found it extremely weird that the lobby was empty. There were no workers, no guests, not even a custodian. It was just a big, silent cavern in what was usually a lively casino. 

He was leading you out to the parking garage, and just as you stepped into the concrete enclave, you heard the screech of tires round the corner. John stood in front of you and gripped the gun in his hand, but he didn’t move away. 

The car stopped in front of you, and you braced yourself, hiding behind your lover as much as you could. 

“Get in, boss! They’re right bloody behind us. Soap, shove over,” a man’s voice came from the car. He was in the driver’s seat, and he was wearing a ballcap with the Union Jack emblazoned on the top. In his passenger seat was a man in a black balaclava, and in the back was a bright-eyed man with a mohawk who you guessed had to be Soap.

“C’mon, love,” John shoved you inside just as a black SUV rounded the same corner, the engine roaring when it saw Price’s car. 

Gunshots rang out, and you knew some of them had hit the car. You worried for John, but he stood straight up, aiming carefully for the driver, and fired his gun. As if you were in some sort of action movie, the SUV careened off-course and slammed into several parked cars. Men began to pour from it, armed to the teeth. 

John jumped in beside you and made you kneel in the floorboards, holding his body over yours protectively. 

“How’d they find out? Gaz!” John yelled at the driver, shouting his name when he saw another SUV approaching from the side. 

Gaz swerved, narrowly missing being rammed, and sped off down the highway, trying to run from his pursuers. 

“No idea, mate, but they think it was us who tore up the warf. Banno’s man must’ve turned snitch. Only explanation.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked man sighed, rolling down his window to fire shots at the SUV chasing you down. 

“Who’s the bonnie hen, boss?” Soap peered down at you before turning his attention back on the car chase. 

“Uh… she’s…” John tried to explain, but you realized that you never even told him your real name, “I dunno.”

“You dinnae ken?” Soap’s brows knitted together.

“Soap! Shut up and shoot, mate,” Gaz turned his attention back on the fight.

“Well,” the masked man grumbled loudly, “She’s stuck with us all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. Heading to Katie’s house. No place else is safe.”

“Aye, good call,” John agreed. 

Finally, after leaving the city, your pursuers turned back around and left you to your escape. John helped you back into the seat and checked you for injuries. 

“John… I’m…” Your voice shook with fear, and you felt all of that stress tumbling down into your chest, turning into shock and tears. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love. I’ve gotcha. I’m… I’m sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Better?” You whispered as he held you to his chest.

“Aye. Thought I could be a normal man for a night. Hit on the hot bird at the bar, go to a fuckin’ party. But, nothing’s normal right now. I’ve put you in this mess, and I’m sorry.”

You didn’t have a reply, not one that made any sense, and as he held you, you watched the English countryside come into view. Rolling green hills still wet with their dew made everything that had just happened to you seem so far away, but you could smell the gunpowder on his hands as he pet your cheek, and you knew that nothing could be further from the truth.

[thehighladywrites]

𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵

☀︎ — pairing: cassian x fem reader

☀︎ — summary: cassian finds out you can squirt...

☀︎ — warnings: nsfw, 18+, pussy eating, smut, cassian being yummy, reader damn near passing out

☀︎ — amara's note: shoutout to the anon that sent in this ask → link!! Because they're right, I haven't seen any Cassian making reader squirt fics, so l made one 😈😈😈

Cassian discovers you can squirt and never goes back. He is over the moon and tries making you squirt all the time. He remebers the first time it happened. You had been fucking for hours, his cock pumping into you, a white, milky ring decorating the base of his cock. Cassian made you cum over and over again, making you extremly sensitive.

“Cas— I can’t, t’s too sensitive—”

“Just gimme one more, sweet girl.”

His warm hands gently cradled each of your thighs, his arms wrapping around them with a firm grip. Despite your struggle to think straight and pull yourself together, he held you steady with warmth and tenderness.

The second his tounge licked a stripe to your clit, tears started flowing. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

Cassian sucked on your clit, teeth light grazing the bud, making you yelp.

He pushed in two fingers and pumped in and out at a mind emptying pace. There was nothing in your head but pleasure, fullness and warmth. You felt yourself dripping on the expensive sheets below and you felt yourself go insane when he curled them.

In this moment, everything felt surreal. His snug black compression shirt, from morning training, hugged his muscular frame, while his hair, tousled from your earlier pulling, was loosely gathered in a half-bun. His hazel green eyes, usually warm and inviting, now darkened with a deep hunger, matching the intensity of his massive, proud wings splayed behind him.

Cassian was without a doubt the best male who had ever bedded you. He was well aware of the effect he had on you. As your eyes met his, you were greeted by a smug smirk.

Before you could say something to wipe that little smirk on his face, your head was thrown back as you felt his wet tongue lick a stripe right along your clit, making you reach out to grip his soft hair.

This time, everything felt different. It was overwhelming, an intense pressure unlike anything you'd experienced before.

Tongue coming up to your clit again, he begins to lick it, suck on it, teasing that sensitive bud more with each arch of your back, feeding into his ego.

Cassian fucking loved the effect he had on you. He loved that you became a mess around him, loved how you completely stopped arguing with him with just a lick to your clit or a pinch to your nipples.

“You feelin’ good, sweets?” he smiled again, knowingly asking despite having the answer.

You didn’t care if you fed into his ego. He was making you feel good and you’d let him know. Anyone who ate pussy this good deserved to brag.

“Mm — yeah, feels so fuckin’ good.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle on your pussy, making you whine even more. You were dangerously close to finishing all over his face.

“M’gonna cum, cassie — oh, fuckkk.”

An intense feeling of euphoria washed over you as you tightened around his fingers and finally came. You were letting out high-pitched moans and arched your back while throwing your head back.

That same feeling of being overwhelmed returned and you felt yourself gush all over his fingers, messily squirting on his lower face, chest, fingers and bed.

He looked up at you.

And you looked down at him.

Silence enveloped the room, embarrassment settling over you.

“I'm so sorry, Cassian. I-” you stammered, breaking the silence as you were on the verge of tears.

“Again,” he replied, almost simultaneously, catching you off guard. His eyes are wide and his breathing heavy.

“Mother’s tits. Never knew you were a squirter.”

His face was dripping as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your soaked pussy.

“Wanna see you do it again, think you can do that for me, pretty girl? Hm?”

With reassurance and confidence, hooded eyes and a throbbing pussy, you nodded.

Your man would take care of you.

🏷️ @justasillylittlegoofyguy @cupidojenphrodite @amygdtjhddzvb @callmeblaire @redbleedingrose @acourtofwhatthefuck @thelov3lybookworm @clairebear08 @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter

[erwinsvow]

imagine if rafe and pogue reader’s relationship was just a bet between him and his kook friends, to see if he could ACTUALLY get her to fall in love with him, like to get her to be all over him and how long that would last, and the reader finds out omgggg. And they break up lol

you think the ending bits of the conversation between your boyfriend and his friends hurts more than everything you just overheard.

"you really think i'd settle for some fuckin' pogue pussy? nah man, top owes me fifty bucks now."

you hadn't heard the entire exchange, just from the part where you heard your name. stupidly, like a naive girl in love with the type of boy she'd only ever dreamt about, you tuned in, thinking rafe was telling his friends something you'd want to hear.

hiding—as embarassing as it is—behind the wall, holding back tears though they don't care enough to stay held back, they pour down your cheeks as the hits keep coming. the boys laugh, but the ringing in your ears had been so loud you hadn't heard the rest of the joke, didn't understand what was so funny.

the first thought in your mind is that you can't believe how stupid you were. the second is that pope and jj and john b had all been right, that it was too good to be true, that he was playing you somehow, that he was a liar and scumbag. you had ignored what your best friends had been telling you, trying so hard to believe that they were wrong, that they didn't know rafe, or at least your rafe, the one who was sweet and funny and never let you drive anywhere or pay for a thing, the one who paraded you around town like you were something who deserved to be showed off, the one who you took back to your tiny house and introduced to your hard-working parents.

you resist the urge to slide down the wall you're leaning against, though every muscle in your body wants to keel over and cry until you can't cry anymore.

you'd been embarassed enough—they didn't need to see you like this too. wiping away tears with the back of your hand, sniffling but trying to stay quiet, you wait for the boys to walk away so you could sneak out of here and pretend that you'd never even come—though you'd only come because rafe said he was having friends over and you'd baked them some snacks for their game, thought you were being a good girlfriend and doing the things a good girlfriend does.

footsteps and laughter echo in the other room—they're gone. the second it's silent, a sob wrangles itself out, eyes getting blurry again. you don't know how you're gonna bike home if you can't stop crying. your fingers fly across your screen, dialing jj's number. you'd been upset at the blond because he seemed to be the most against you and rafe dating, had the meanest things to say and was the first to insinuate there was something wrong if rafe wanted to date you.

you'd been so insulted, so hurt by his words that the two of you had gone from talking every single day to maybe once a week. you hope he doesn't hold it against you now, but a part of you knows jj never would—that's just the kind of guy he is. he answers by the second ring, and you try to stay quiet, just incase they hear you.

"j? can you come get me? i-um, i'm at tannyhill-" the last part is said with another sob, breaking into a fit of tears again. he says he's with pope and that he's coming, and you hate that they heard you cry, because knowing the two of them they'll go thirty over if they think you're upset. you wanna get out of here, but you don't want them to die.

heart thudding, eyes watery, limbs weak, you stay against that wall for a moment. before you can make your way to the door, rafe's figure steps in to where you are. he sees you before you see him—shoulders shaking, hands wiping away tears.

when you turn to look at him, it doesn't take more a second to know you heard something you shouldn't have.

"hey, listen to me-" he gets closer, and you flinch, backing away. you want to say something mean, something snarky, something that'll hurt him as much as he's hurt you. nothing comes out, and you stare back at him, and you hope he remembers how hard he's made you cry, because you've decided it then and there—you're never seeing rafe cameron ever again.

you dart past him to the door. he follows, reaching out to grab you, but you take off, running down his driveway and into the truck he recognizes as heyward's. you get in, in between pope and jj. the last thing he sees is you crying into maybank's chest while they drive you away, and the last thing he thinks is wondering what the hell he had just done.

[yawnderu]

ramp up the angst by reader suddenly agreeing that ‘yes, it is the last time’ coz she’s tired of all the sneaking, feeling empty after dbf!simon leaves, and wanting to feel loved and to love freely in return.

let’s force simon to make the move and to choose between love and friendship. 😈

ANON. UR MIND.

Loving Simon is tiring. You can give and give, and he'll do is take, never giving back even when you're empty. Kept a secret, he only dares to show you affection when he wants something out of you. Cuddles come with groping, and while sex is nice... it's difficult not to want more when you've been in love with him for years.

He was right, it was the last time. The last time until he learns how to grow a pair and decide what's best for both of you. Any cuddles he wants to give you finish as soon as he starts to grope you, pushing him away and telling him you're not in the mood. He's a patient man, way too patient and understanding, yet being rejected by you every single time he tries to initiate things is new.

''Gonna tell me what's your problem?'' He ambushes you once your father leaves to go to the store, arms crossed across his chest and blocking your way out of the room. Simon never uses his body to intimidate you on purpose or get in your way, but he knows you'll avoid conversation unless he does so.

''I don't have a problem.'' You bite the inside of your cheek, crossing your arms as well as you look up at him. The sight is nothing short of adorable, the urge to pinch your cheeks and shake you around passing through his mind, though it's cut short pretty fast.

''That's bollocks.'' He points out, walking closer to you and forcing you to crane your neck just to keep eye contact. You let out a frustrated sigh, eyebrows furrowed as you look up at him.

''Fine. Want to know what my fucking problem is?'' He stays quiet, simply nodding once in acknowledgement.

''You are my problem, Simon. You just... came into my life and ruined it.'' If he's affected by your words, his stoic expression is doing a great job at hiding it.

''You ruined me for everyone else. Can't date, can't flirt, can't even think about hooking up with someone to forget about you because they're not worth it— they're not you.'' There's tears rimming your eyes as you speak, trying to keep them in until you look away and a choked sob escapes your lips, the dam finally breaking as you sit down in bed, pathetically making yourself smaller for him even when it's not necessary.

''No one will ever be like you and I— I don't know what to do, Simon. I fucking love you, but you treat me like I'm... like I'm just a toy.'' Your hands go up to cover your face, not allowing him the pleasure of seeing the tears roll down your cheeks and the pained expression on your face.

Silence.

It's quiet for what feels like forever until he crouches down in front of you, hands grasping your wrists and moving them away from your face. He cups your cheeks as soon as he sees the trail of tears staining your pretty skin, soft kisses planted all over your face while all you can do is let him.

'''M sorry.'' He mutters once he's done kissing you all over, face hiding on the crook of your neck as he lets out a soft sigh, preparing himself to make a decision once and for all.

''Your old man means the world to me. You know that, yeah?'' He keeps going once you nod your head, one hand holding yours while the other runs up and down your back soothingly.

''And you mean the world to him. Hell, you mean the world to me. I know it's fuckin' stupid, but I'm scared he'll keep you away from me.'' Your small scoff earns you a chuckle coming out of his lips, looking up just to see the pretty frown on your lips.

''Like hell he will. He'll be happy if... if we date, you know? No one treats me the way you do.'' You manage to speak despite the tears, drying your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie— his hoodie.

''I know.'' He whispers softly, brown eyes shining with understanding. He's so vulnerable and so fucking scared he almost feels pathetic.

''I know.'' He repeats, sitting down next to you and holding you on his lap, as close to him as possible while your face is buried on his chest.

''... I'll tell him.'' He promises, planting a small kiss on your forehead, unaware of the man listening to the conversation with a small smile on his lips. He knows, of course he knows.

[thebimbopalace]

ONE NEW MESSAGE

ੈ✩‧₊˚satoru gojo x f!reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ wc: 1.4k

✧.*blurb: You miss Satoru badly after he’s been gone for two days. So, you decide you show him just how much you and your p*ssy miss him.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹| established relationship, just filth, phone sex, pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl), overstimulation (gojo), lots of dirty talk, semi-shy reader (it’s implied), premature ejaculation (gojo), use of the word whore

From: princess 🩵

I'm missin' you baby, so much

*one new voice message* — 8:15 minutes

Open when you're alone ‘toru

Satoru can almost feel the seduction through the phone when he reads the last message you sent. A smirk crosses his features in excitement knowing that once he gets inside his hotel room he is going to hear a special treat from his princess. He truly couldn't get to the elevator fast enough. Satoru slips his phone into his pocket and enters the now-open elevator doors.

Satoru has been gone for two days on a week-long mission and he already misses you just as badly as you miss him. This mission has taken a toll on not only his body but also his mind. It’s times like these that make Satoru grateful for you. All he wants is to be back home, in bed next to you. To feel your soft lips meet his in a long, passionate kiss, to feel the way your naked form molds perfectly with his as sweat trickles down both your bodies. To the way his cock pumps in and out of you with slow, deep strokes as he brings you closer to the release you always beg him for.

A dreamy sigh leaves his lips when he thinks about all the possibilities that would occur if he were with you right now.

*ding* and the elevator doors open.

He walks out of the elevator to the end of the hall where his room is. He slides his hotel room key card into the slot on the doorknob and waits for the beep. The beep rings through his ears and he turns the doorknob to his room and opens the door. Satoru walks in and closes the door behind him with a soft click and locks it with the same soft sound. He immediately hops into the plush hotel bed, slips his blindfold off his eyes, laying it next to him on the bed.

He grabs his phone from his pocket and turns the volume down low enough to where he can hear it but loud enough to create the illusion that you are there with him. And with that, he presses play.

The first thing he hears is the sound of what he knows is your fingers playing with your—from what he can hear drenched pussy. *shlick* *shlick* *shlick* is all he can hear through the speakers of his phone. “Damn,” Satoru mutters feeling slightly embarrassed that his cock is already hardening from just the sound of your wetness. He slips his free hand inside his pants under his navy blue briefs and starts to plam his cock gently.

“Ah, ‘Toru,” he hears you softly moan which causes him to pause his stroking for a second. He didn't expect you to say anything. He figured that all he would hear was your fingers going to work on your pussy and maybe a couple of whines and moans. But, this is a pleasant surprise for him.

“I-I miss you, baby,” you murmur which causes Satoru to smirk at your shyness. He knows that you have never done this before and that phone sex isn't your forte but, it's so cute to hear you become so shy when you normally are a full-blown whore for him. He encloses his fist around his hardening cock and starts to stroke it with more pressure when your moans transition into whines.

“Play with that pussy for me, baby,” he says to himself to heighten his arousal. “I miss that thick cock sliding in and out of me, it—fuck—it always makes me f-feel so g-good,” the sound of your pleasure-drunk voice saying this to him makes his heart thump against his chest.

With one hand, Satoru pulls his pants and briefs down in one fell swoop, freeing his aching cock from its confines. He then puts his hand back on his cock and starts to calm down his strokes a bit because he thinks “Her filthy fuckin’ mouth is going to make me cum quick,” so he starts to move at a steady pace. His hand goes slowly up from base to tip with an added squeeze which pushes out small beads of pearly precum. “I wish I was there to suck your cock ‘Toru. To jus’—shiit—jus’ feel that fat cock on my tongue.” you say which makes Satoru’s cheeks flush bright red at your words.

This is a new side of you that he can’t help but love. Usually during sex, he is the one doing all the talking so this…is turning him on so much hearing you and your filthy mouth. He starts to stroke his cock a bit faster but he still keeps up with long strokes. Satoru starts to squeeze with every stroke of his hand to mimic your tight pussy clenching and gripping around him.

It's almost like you read his mind when you say “jus’ imagine my pussy around you, baby. How tight, how wet, how warm it is.” The images that fill Satoru’s mind are exactly what you described. Your tight, wet cunt wrapped around him as you moan out his name and beg him to keep going. That same greedy pussy draining him for all he’s worth as his loud groans ricochet off the walls of your bedroom. It's all too much for him.

“Gods, she’s gonna to make me cum already,” he says with a groan as his hand slows down again. The fog of his arousal is becoming too much for him as his cock is starting to ache from him holding back his much needed release. But, he knows it will all be worth it when you two cum together. “Mmm, ‘Toru, my pussy is dripping for you, baby,” you say as the sound of your slick comes through his phone speaker so clearly…it's almost as if you’re there with him.

“Do you hear that? It’s all for you ‘Toru, baby.” the minute you finish that sentence, Satoru cums with a loud moan while his hips jerk up subtly. His hand continues to stroke himself: not wanting the feeling to end. Your sex-filled moans fill the space in his hotel room as he knows you are almost at your limit.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru, I need you. I-I want my pussy to—holy fuck—to cream on you. I’m creaming right now baby,” you say in a voice laced with lust that’s almost too much to bear. “You’re torturing me, princess,” he says to himself. His hand is on autopilot as he strokes his cock. Whines and groans fall freely from his lips as overstimulation is setting in. “I want to cum with you pretty girl,” he mumbles softly, wanting nothing more than to feel that connection that rushes through his system when you both reach that high together.

The sound of your moans increases to a higher pitch which signals to Satoru that you’re going to cum. “Oh, oh, god ‘toru… I'm gonna cum baby. Your—shiiit—your pussy’s going to cum for you, nghh! ” you babble as your high approaches. “Go on princess, cum, cum for me, make that pretty pussy cum for me,” Satoru also babbles as he feels his second orgasm coming fast.

“I’m cumming—oh god—cumming so hard ‘Toru,” you say, and then your long, drawn-out moan vibrates through his phone speaker which tumbles Satoru into his second wave of euphoria for the night. “Fuck, fuck, holy—” he mumbles as his orgasm hits like a freight train causing his back to arch off the bed and white spots to hit behind his eyes.

It takes him a bit to come down from the clouds of euphoria but once he does the only audible thing is your heavy breathing through the phone that he wishes mixed with his in the hotel room. The voice note cuts off and Satoru is left in his hotel bed with thick ropes of his cum decorating his abs and chest and his body fully limp and relaxed.

After a bit, his phone pings, and it's a message from you.

From: princess 🩵

*one new attachment*

She’s missin’ you toru

Came two times thinking about you baby

The picture that fills his phone screen makes him bite his bottom lip in newfound desire. “Fuck,” Satoru whispers to himself when a picture of your sopping, creamy pussy is shown through the message thread. The sight of the mess you made because of him hardens his cock once more.

To: princess 🩵

Facetime me right now, princess

I need a closer look at that slutty cunt

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

🏷️ — @suguruplsr

2024 © thebimbopalace — please DO NOT copy, change, or repost my works on any other platform. All rights reserved to @ thebimbopalace

[finniestoncrane]

Kink Dialogue Prompts - If you fancy, any of the following with Egon Spengler (Receiving?) :3c:

🌱 Virginity, 🥇 First Time, ✏️ Marking/Bititng, 🩺 Doctor RP (Giving), 🔴 Humiliation

Experimental Methods

Egon Spengler x Female!Reader, word count: 3.5k HELLO!? finally another excuse to write nasty again for egon, my fuckin beloved ;-; also i have been COOKING this one and it got away from me so it is LONG lmao mostly because i didn't realise you said any of and not all of the prompts oops and then i also added in prem.ejac. my actual beloved👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: medical kink, losing virginity, marking kink, humiliation kink, premature ejaculation

The walk from the elevator to your apartment door at the end of the hall felt like it took an eternity, definitely down to the dead silence between you and Egon which had been ongoing since the moment you left the restaurant down the block. He was often quite quiet once a date had ended, but this was different. There was a distinctly awkward air to the way he shuffled uncomfortably along beside you, and the soft sigh he had let out as he agreed to walk you to your door didn't exactly settle your nerves. That discomfort in the pit of your stomach was only exacerbated by the way he avoided all eye contact once you had placed the key in the lock, and stood, turned to him, as you held the door ajar. "Egon, I think you should come in so we can talk."

"Talk?"

"Mhm."

You nodded solemnly as you headed inside. He was a sweet man, very kind, very straight to the point. Besides the very limited bursts of anger you had seen him display at questioning skeptics and otherwise disinterested city officials, you couldn't imagine him wanting to harm anyone. So you had to be the one to broach the subject, since it seemed like he never would.

Once inside, you watched him make his way to the sofa, sitting on the very edge with his hands placed on his knees, palms rubbing nervously at the woolen fabric. When you were sitting beside him, you could hear his shallow breathing and the sound of him swallowing his nerves. As much as you were apprehensive about this converation, it spurred you on to know you were putting him out of his misery.

"Look, Egon. I know you're a sweet guy, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable just so you don't hurt my feelings. If you don't want to see me anymore in a... romantic way... then we don't have to."

"What?"

"We can meet for coffee or go out for food alone or with other people, but as friends, y'know?"

"Yes. That is generally something we can do. I appreciate your time, and for being so forward with your feelings. If there's anything I can do to change your mind then-"

You raised your hands up, shaking your head in confusion.

"Wait, wait, wait. Change my mind? I... I'm not breaking up with you, Egon. I'm making it easier for you to break up with me."

His face was blank, except for the slight hint of confusion, and you could almost hear the gears of his mind grinding away as he puzzled over where you got the notion that he might want to break up with you. It didn't take him long though. He wasn't oblivious. The evidence was definitely piling up, although the intentions behind it had been lost in translation.

"I don't want to break up with you. I enjoy spending time with you. We share a lot of the same attributes in common and you are extremely tolerable of any discussions about my various interests."

"How romantic."

You smiled, emphasising the playful tone of your slight dig.

"And of course, I find you attractive. Very appealing, physically as well as emotionally and intellectually. Which is precisely the problem."

Egon sat in silence for a few moments, as though he expected you to psychically glean what he meant by that statement, waiting on your response. But when it was apparent that you had none, he took a deep breath and continued.

"This is our fifth date. I expect that you'll want to have sexual relations, or at least some form of physical contact beyond what we've experienced thus far."

Your eyes widened, surprised by how blunt he was, if not more technical or formal than you expected, and you stumbled over your words.

"I, uh... w-well, that would be nice! But, if that's not your thing then of course we don't have to."

Shocking you both, he abruptly removed his hand from his own leg and placed it on your knee, both of you looking at it before he snatched it back.

"I want to, of course. But, speaking openly, I haven't ever experienced that. Yet. With anyone."

In absolute disbelief, you blinked as your body moved backwards a little, your nose twitching, raising your mouth in a curious and surprised sneer.

"You're a virgin? You. Are a virgin. You?"

"Does that factual statement require this much questioning?"

"A little bit, yeah! I mean... I would've been all over you four dates ago if you'd seemed a bit more at ease with it. I don't know how you've gone forty years without someone-"

He interrupted you with a slight frown, lips pursed as he waved you off before he spoke.

"I've spurned a few advances, but believe it or not, there's something about my personality that other find rather..."

"Abrupt. Formal. Disinterested?"

Egon nodded in agreement, very well aware that you used the words with no hint of criticism or negativity, but rather truthfully, and, oddly enough to him, with an almost loving tone.

"And yet you find those attributes appealing."

"Of course! They come in a very nice package."

You leaned into him, placing your hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently between your fingers as you edged closer to him on the sofa. He watched your fingers moving, eyes closing as he took in the sesation of the touch. Even that smallest gesture was enough to excite him. Your hand, moving further up his long, slender leg, fingers tensing into the muscle and releasing their grip as your palm snaked higher and higher, closer and closer.

"Oh, ok. You definitely are interested then..."

It was impossible not to notice the distinct bulging at the front of his slacks, and you felt immediately bad for pointing it out, but Egon smiled, nervously adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.

"I wouldn't have lied to you. Besides, I knew the biological response would betray me eventually. I'm only lucky to have gone this long with the problem arising, for want of a better word."

Taking stock of the situation, you considered the next steps. You didn't want to rush him, by any means, but you didn't want to let the opportunity go to waste. An intimate conversation could lead to a more intimate encounter, and that was definitely what you had been hoping for tonight.

"Egon, we can do whatever you want tonight. You can go home, with no hard feelings, and we can continue dating and wait until you're ready. Or we can give it a go. If you want to stop, we can. But I think this could be a nice experience for us, as a... couple. Let me guide you through this. I'll be very gentle, unless of course you tell me otherwise."

His face lit up with a warm smile, clearly in appreciation of your gentle offer and your efforts to make light of what was most definitely an awkward conversation. Still, though, he seemed too nervous to speak much, so the ball was once again in your court.

"Ok, so... is it the skills involved that are causing you problems? Or...?"

"I suppose so, but like most other things, you gain experience with practice..."

Your stomach flipped in excitement, a heat prickling over your skin at the notion that you might be involved in this practice.

"... It's an area I haven't really been involved with before. It's not as though you're something to study, to examine and figure out."

"That's... exactly what it's like, actually."

"Hm."

"I mean, that's what it could be. If that makes things easier for you. Maybe a little bit of roleplay, putting you in a position of control that you're familiar with... maybe that would make it a bit easier for you?"

Egon paused for a moment, considering your suggestion with a hopeful look, nodding silently before he spoke.

"Your hypothesis is intriguing, and I do think it would be beneficial to at least test it in an experiment before we rule it out completely as a possible solution. If... if you're sure...?"

Placing your hand over his, you squeezed it, reassuringly, as you leaned in to him.

"It's a new experience, yes. But don't worry, I'll help you through it... Doctor."

His eyes lit up, a fire suddenly burning in the pit of his stomach. Standing from the sofa, he took your hand and brought you up to him. Egon's eyes flitted towards the door to your bedroom.

"In that case then, please come with me and we can begin this examination."

You reached for his hand, hoping he'd guide you romantically to the privacy of your bedroom, but he was already fast ahead of you, his long limbs gaining the distance with his wide strides as you hurried excitedly into the room behind him.

"Now, if you'll lie back on the bed, please, and take a deep breath. Let me take care of you. I'm sure that whatever is wrong, I can provide some assistance."

Obedient, and with a level of excitement you weren't afraid to show, you bounced onto the mattress and laid back, inhaling and exhaling slowly and carefully as you listened to Egon pacing around the bed, finding the best place to conduct his examination. Standing on your right, looking down at you, you watched as he procured a small notepad and almost pointlessly short pencil from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"I think we should begin by noting the first examples you found of paranormal occurrences. Were the internal or external?"

Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you tried to think of an answer to the question, but before you could find a suitable one he had moved on to the next.

"If neither of those are pertinent to your experience, can you tell me if you had any sensations or evidence of being posessed?"

"What? Egon, what are you talking about?"

Blinking twice, he lowered himself to you, bending at the hip, and whispering in a lower voice as though he were trying not to break the roleplay experience.

"This is my area of expertise. The paranormal. I am examining you as a doctor of such, so... are you experiencing anything paranormal?"

Quickly catching on, you mustered up a few symptoms for him to use in his diagnosis.

"Oh... uh... yes! Well, Doctor Spengler, the reason I came to see you is that I've had a strange onset of problems, ones no ordinary doctor could diagnose. I think you might be my only hope now."

Reaching out, you took his hand in yours and squeezed, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"And what might these symptoms be?"

"Well, I'm not sure if they're all related, but I do know that I've been feeling very irritable lately. Completely exhausted and filled with stress and tension. It's like there's something inside of me that I just need to get out, something that's controlling my behaviour."

"It sounds like you might need a formal adjuration addressed to the demonic presence that has decided to utilise you as its host."

"I need a what?"

"In layman's terms, an exorcism."

"Ah! Wow, that sounds very serious, Doctor Spengler."

The way you spoke his name, each consonant, each syllable, lingering on your lips and tongues, lustful and seductive, had him clearing his throat and swallowing the building, shaking nerves that it conjured.

"It can be. Could you detail when you feel these symptoms for me?"

"Hm... they mostly surface when I'm around my boyfriend. He's real neat, I think you'd like him. He's so intelligent, so sweet, and he's super hot."

"Ahem... he sounds, delightful."

"You don't think the demon, or whatever is inside of me, is targeting him, do you, Doctor Spengler?"

You forced a concerned pout onto your lips, looking up at Egon through your batting eyelashses as you watched him try to recover from not only the insinuation that he was hot, but that you considered him to be your boyfriend.

"I see... then I believe that perhaps this is not anything paranormal but very natural. I think a release of tension, of a more physical or... coital nature, is the required prescription here."

With his cheeks flushing at the mere mention of sexual activity, Egon adjusted his glasses once more as he avoided eye contact with you.

"Oh, thank you, Doctor Spengler! So... what should I do about this predicament? Do you think you could maybe administer the correct dosage for me? Perhaps we can do the procedure here?"

The deep red blush seeped further across Egon's skin, his pupils wider than you'd seen them before. Quickly, and with no attempt to do so discreetly, he moved his hands down in front of him, holding the notepad strategically in front of his pants.

"Are you hiding something down there, Doctor Spengler?"

Egon stuttered, dropping the note pad before bending to catch it swiftly, the tent at the front of his slacks visible for only a brief moment, but long enough that you could ascertain what he was working with below the tweed and formality.

"I-I-I'm... I-it's... I apologise, I didn't mean to rush things by getting ahead of myself. This is embarrassing."

"Oh, come on, Egon! You know as well as I do that it's a natural reaction. If you're going to be ashamed of anything, I would say it should be how easy it was to get you as flustered as you are... I mean look at your cheeks! Tell me... is any other part of you blushing pink?"

The silence was almost deafening, and he was once again unable to look into your eyes. Fearing you had taken it a little too far in your taunting, given it was his first time, you were quick to apologise, sitting up on the bed and holding his arm. But he brushed you off, working on his nervous habit of fiddling with the legs of his glasses as he replied.

"No need to apologise, I'm just quietly reconciling the facts. Yes, it was embarrassing, but your taunting made it worth it. It definitely played a fact in the increase in arousal, it would be a fascinating thing to study if I had any spare time. I'd even suggest that we experiment with that more this evening, but I'm worried it might lead to a quick conclusion to our combined efforts if the external stimuli is too... well, stimulating."

"How about we just remember that you're into it and add it to our list, hm?"

"We have a list?"

You eased yourself up onto your knees on the bed, holding on to the lapels of Egon's suit jacket as you watched his Adam's apple bob, his chest rising and falling as your hands soothed over his body.

"Now we do."

Your lips met his in a soft, interlocking embrace, with Egon catching on quickly after a sharp inhale. You could feel his smile against yours as the passion deepened, his hands falling to your sides as he held you steady as you balanced yourself against his surprisingly sturdy frame. Letting out a deep sigh as his hands curled around you, his palms flat against your spine as he stroked up and down, you found yourself leaning into him more, fingers pressing into the back of his neck as you kept him kissing you.

One of your hands pushed into his thick, tight curls as the other drifted back around and down his front, your fingers skirting over the buckle of his belt and hooking just below it, tugging his hips towards you. He came easily, putting up no resistance to your desire to have him closer to you.

Egon's breath haltered as he watched you in stunned silence, your fingers expertly, and quickly, unbuckling his belt and slowly, deftly, unzipping his pants. Looking up to him to make sure he was still on board, you caught his eyes, pupils wide, behind the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses. In response to the question you hadn't asked yet, you caught out of your peripheral the slight twitch of his cock, waiting impatiently for your touch.

As seductively as you could, you pulled his slacks down slightly, enough that you could hook your thumbs into the waistband of his white, y-fronts, watching as more of his cock was revealed until it sprang over the top.

He was an impressive length, and a thickness you could get used to with some practice. Looking at it, you considered that was probably why he so often wore looser slacks, given there was a lot for him to attempt to conceal. Without even realising it, you had begun to lick your lips, trying not to drool over yourself. So, to satiate your growing hunger, you wrapped your palm around the base of his length and began to stroke it.

Your movements were gentle, not too slow but not too fast. You were sure he had experienced some level of physical intimacy before, and he couldn't have gone forty years without some level of masturbation. Surely... but there was always a chance...

Either way, your ministrations against his thickening length had it pulsing and throbbing against the flat of your hand as you dragged it up and down, stroking his cock in rhythym with his breathing and matching the pace of his subconscious and almost imperceptible thrusting.

Despite having a grown man under your power, you were still preoccupied with his comfort, worried that you were moving things too quickly. So to counter your concerns, and keep things as pleasant as possible for you both, you took to looking deep into his eyes, past the lenses of his round frames. It was a piercing stare, one that was uncomfortable for only a moment before it deepened the intimacy, letting you see him in a completely new light as his jaw hung open and his tongue lapped at the air. You couldn't help but smile back at the lopsided grin he wore, your heartbeat unsteadied by the mere suggestion that you were making him happy.

A small, sultry giggle escaped your throat, and Egon groaned in reply, bucking his hips forward,standing on tiptoe and shuddering as he balanced himself back onto his heels again. Only when you felt the cooling of the warm liquid spread over your fingers did you realise what had happened.

With a quick glance down, you could see the last threads of cum spilling ont your hand from the flushed, pink head of Egon's cock. Drops and strands dripped down your knuckles, and as you loosened your grip, the action accompanied by a soft whimper from Egon, you fought the urge to lick your hand clean. There would be opportunities in the future to taste him, right now the priority was to assuage the concern you could see growing on his furrowed brow. You could feel your own underwear soaking in arousal at the idea of pushing Egon to climax so quickly, but he didn't seem to feel the same.

Looking to him, your mischievous grin was quickly contorted into an easy, comforting smile as you stood up and quickly kissed him. If your lips were firm against his, then there was no qay he could finish the entirely unnecessary apology that he was trying to make for what he felt was a speedy response to your touch. Resting your forehead against his, and letting his large nose press into yours, you pulled away from the deep kiss, a slowing tirade of softer ones following it until you were sure he would be quiet.

"It's ok, honestly. There's no need to apologise."

"Are you sure? I'd hate to be a disappointment."

"Hardly! In fact..."

You punctuated each word with a kiss, covering his cheeks, his chin, his neck and his collarbone in them.

"... I think it was pretty hot having that kind of power over you."

When you moved your lip back over his neck, you allowed your teeth to graze across his skin before sinking them in, closing your lips over and sucking at him, feeling his flesh warm in your mouth and delighting in the wet, smacking sound as you let go. With your drool settling in a strand against him, you bit your lip, suddenly a little embarrassed by the very forward nature of the bite. You waited for Egon's approval, or disapproval, of the flurry of affection, giggling when he finally spoke.

"To clarify, that bite was a positive response, yes?"

"Of course! I just wanted to... mark my territory. This way, whenever someone looks at you, they'll know you belong to someone. Just in case anyone else gets any ideas about being your first before I can get to you again."

Egon's fingers twitched, reachign instinctively in that recognisable flustered action to adjust his glasses, one side of his mouth lifted into a coy, but satisfied grin.

[joelscruff]

one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART ONE

hi there ! i'm new to the tlou fandom but not new to fic, and watching the show over the past few months inspired me to return to fic writing. the idea for this has been milling around in my head for a good chunk of time now and i finally felt ready to put pen to paper and get this thing started. i've already posted this to ao3 if you prefer that medium, but i'll also be posting it here now. let me know what you think!

summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (this part is not explicit but this fic will be) warnings: (for future parts) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink - will add more as fic progresses word count: about 2.6k

You don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

It started about a month ago, after all the shit that happened with that monster, David. After Ellie had decided she wanted to start sleeping alone.

It hadn't really been a conscious decision on her part, but you'd noticed that first night how she'd distanced herself from you and Joel when it was time to sleep. She'd curled up against the far wall of the basement with barely a word, shutting herself off entirely while you'd tended to Joel's injury. Prior to this – ever since Joel was stabbed – Ellie had started sleeping at his side, head on his chest, listening to his heart and hoping against all hope that it kept beating. You'd slept a few feet away, hoping desperately for the same thing.

After David, she avoided physical contact entirely. You and Joel wordlessly understood, though you could tell it alarmed and concerned him. Though he'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few weeks you know he'd become accustomed to having her at his side, curled into him with that familiar daughterly affection he'd been missing for twenty years. Seeing her ultimately decide that she no longer wanted that closeness, probably feared it, distressed him greatly.

“Fuckin' bastard,” Joel had murmured to himself that first night as you cleaned his wound – you'd learned what to do from watching Ellie, “I'll fucking kill him.”

“Shhh,” you'd hushed him, keeping your voice low in case Ellie was still awake, “He's dead and gone, she took care of it.”

“Shouldn't have had to,” he'd hissed, “Fuckin' bastard.”

He'd slept poorly. You knew because every so often you'd hear him mutter something else to himself about David between short fits of sleep. You didn't sleep much either, partly because in the wake of Ellie's sudden distance it was now your job to monitor Joel's wound, but also because you felt the same way Joel did. The thought of that monster... what he'd done to Ellie and what he'd tried to do... you'd never felt so much disdain and hatred for one person in your life. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was the look on her blood-spattered face when you'd both found her, the way she'd barely been able to speak... you could only imagine how much worse the images behind Ellie's eyelids were.

So she slept alone now, which meant Joel slept alone.

For a little while, that is.

-

After a few days of short spurts of travel and staying in more abandoned houses (Joel wasn't well enough to walk much, though he tried to deny it, much to the frustration of you and Ellie) you'd set up camp on the outskirts of a small community. Ellie hadn't talked much and Joel hadn't been fully in his right mind since you left that first house, so the decision-making had fallen to you for the time being. Truthfully, you were done with the mouldy mattresses and hard concrete of those suburban basements, the smell of rotting food and being bothered by mice and cockroaches while you tried – and failed – to fall asleep. Neither Joel nor Ellie argued when you suggested setting up a campsite in the woods for a change of scenery.

The snow had melted quite a bit and there hadn't been anything fresh in almost a week, the temperature rising rapidly the further you walked. The idea of sleeping underneath the stars again with fresh air in your lungs and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees was enough to keep you going that day. That night, you'd watched as Joel made a fire with the materials you'd collected, Ellie already bundled up inside her sleeping bag a few meters away.

“Hey, you sure you're not gonna be cold over there?” you'd called to her gently, already knowing the answer.

“I'm good,” she'd replied, sounding earnest enough, “If I get cold I'll move.”

You'd sighed quietly, turning back toward the fire. Joel was blowing lightly on some kindling, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You used this rare moment of him being distracted to analyze his face; the dark circles beneath his eyes had been growing more prominent over the past few days, and he'd gotten into the unconscious habit of blinking very slowly, like he was always just a few seconds from sleep. You'd never seen him look this exhausted.

“You need to sleep,” you'd murmured, and his eyes had snapped up to meet yours instantly, “I'm serious, Joel, you look...”

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine,” you shifted your eyesight to the fire, lifting your hands to warm your palms, “You look like you haven't slept in days, which you literally haven't, by the way.”

“I've slept,” he'd grunted, turning his attention back to the fire as well.

“Yeah, for maybe twenty minutes at a time.”

“Well, maybe if I wasn't bein' woken up every twenty minutes by you checking if I'm still breathin',” his voice was hard and cold, but you were used to it.

“Don't be dramatic,” you'd snapped back, “I check you maybe twice a night now, if even that. Sorry for wanting to make sure you're okay.” The last few words had come out shakier than you'd intended.

He'd inhaled deeply, and you could see him looking at you again in your peripheral vision, “You're right, I'm sorry. I'm being an asshole. As usual.”

“You're not an asshole,” you'd muttered, “you're tired. And so am I.”

You'd sat together in silence for a few moments before Joel had reached behind him for his pack, digging out the blanket he'd started using in lieu of his old sleeping bag. He'd decided to leave that behind; it was what you and Ellie had used to get him back to that first house, the one Callus had dragged across the icy terrain with a bloodied and near-death Joel as its only occupant. He'd pissed himself in it, which he'd attributed as the main reason for leaving it. But you knew the truth: he'd spent too long wrapped up inside of it during that period of time to ever get a good night's sleep from it again. It needed to be put out of its misery.

Both you and Ellie had offered to give him your own but he refused every time, repeatedly stating that the blanket Ellie had found was warm enough, if not even warmer than the sleeping bag had been. You honestly didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he gave you no choice but to believe him.

“You take first watch, then.” he said quietly, “We're out in the open again, gonna have to stay alert.”

“Got it,” you were a bit embarrassed by your brief moment of vulnerability, but you'd quickly busied yourself with picking up the rifle to hold it in your lap.

You'd watched as he spread out the blanket on the ground, carefully kneeling down and wincing at the pull of his stitches. He laid down on the edge of it, then reached over and pulled the other side over his body like a makeshift sleeping bag. Sighing contentedly, he'd closed his eyes.

Despite how much older than you he was, the word adorable couldn't help but cross your mind.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled quietly to you, and you'd forced yourself to look down at the rifle so he wouldn't catch you staring.

“Night, Joel.”

-

You'd quickly learned that Joel's new blanket was in fact not warmer than his sleeping bag. After a few hours of keeping watch, you decided to check on both Ellie and Joel to make sure they were doing alright. Ellie was fast asleep and didn't look to be shivering or experiencing a bad night's sleep; she actually looked more peaceful than you'd seen her for a long time. You'd smiled fondly, fighting back the urge to push her hair out of her eyes; she'd made things very clear and you weren't going to overstep.

You wandered over to Joel and the contrast between he and Ellie was staggering; there was no peace here. He was wide awake, shivering ferociously and hunched in on himself with his hands cupped around his mouth as he blew on them for warmth.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you'd immediately dropped the rifle and leaned down to him, “why the fuck didn't you tell me you were freezing?”

It actually wasn't a very cold night, but the combination of Joel's thin blanket, his injury, and the fact that he was overwhelmingly exhausted were just making everything ten times worse. He also hadn't slept outside for weeks. You immediately began to regret the decision to camp tonight.

“Hold on,” you'd said quickly, scrambling back up to grab your own sleeping bag. You unzipped it so it was wide, then draped it over Joel's shivering form, “I'm gonna give you some body heat, okay? Don't make it weird.” You'd only said the last part because you knew he would protest.

You'd crawled underneath both layers of material and without any hesitation wrapped your arms around Joel, ignoring his shaky mutterings of “I'm okay” and “you don't need to”. He'd surrendered very quickly, relaxing into your embrace as you ran your hands up and down his arms at the fastest pace you could muster. You alternated between his arms and hands, taking them in yours and rubbing your palms against them like you were trying to start a fire, huffing hot breath against his skin. Beneath the blanket, you entwined your legs with his, pulling his socked feet against your ankles and trapping them there to warm them up.

It only took a few moments for the heavy shakes to stop and for Joel's breath to even out again. Despite this, you stayed where you were and kept doing what you could to keep his temperature stable. As he warmed up, he began to feel more like himself; he was no longer a cold statue but the warm and solid man you'd come to recognize, and you were hyper-aware of the fact that despite spending so much time with each other you'd never actually been this close to him. His arms, strong and steady beneath his coat, the same arms that carried around that heavy pack all day, the arms that cradled the rifle, they now laid loose and tender under your touch. His hands, calloused and rough around the edges but soft at the palms, the same hands that set the fire still burning a few feet away, the hands that once held his daughter and had learned to hold Ellie's – and now yours, feeling like in some way they belonged there.

You'd known you felt something for Joel, but you'd never realized how strong and real that something was until it was literally in your embrace.

Without speaking you'd laid your head on his chest, closing your eyes and doing your damnedest to fight back the sudden tears that were threatening to well up. Holy shit, was all you could think, a warmth you'd never felt in your entire life radiating in your chest and somehow extending toward him. Holy fucking shit. It was like time had stopped and all you could feel was him.

You'd looked up at his face, needing to see if he felt it too, felt you the way you felt him, but your eyes widened slightly when you saw that his were closed, mouth slightly agape. There it was, that peace you'd seen on Ellie's face, now transferred to Joel's. For a brief second you felt panic, but it was immediately interrupted by the light snore that emitted from his open mouth. He'd fallen asleep.

And a few moments later, so had you.

-

That was the first night you'd slept solid without waking up even once. Not just since Joel had been stabbed, but since the pandemic had started to begin with. You can't recall ever having such a peaceful, dreamless, absolutely soul-refreshing sleep. And neither had Joel; when you woke the next morning he was still fast asleep in your embrace, that peaceful expression still sculpted on his face like he was a living Michelangelo. In the night you'd only gotten closer to him, legs still entwined and head still on his chest. The only difference was that your arms had obviously stopped their rapid movements to keep him warm, and they'd ended up snaked around his torso, the palm of your left hand laying flat against the hot skin of his waist, just above where his stitches were.

Maybe you should have pulled away when you realized, gotten up and pretended it didn't happen. The thought did cross your mind, but then Joel had shuffled a bit in his sleep and you'd become aware of the fact that his arms were around you, hand pressed flush against your bare back underneath your jacket and shirt, holding you to him. And that was enough to make you stay.

About fifteen minutes later, he'd woken up.

He didn't flinch or yank himself away when he realized the position you were in. He'd blinked slowly at you, and you'd peered up at him just as quietly. His lips had parted and then closed again, as if he was going to say something but then thought better of it. Instead, he just kept staring at you, and you started to feel his hand on your back slowly and tenderly stroke the skin there. In return, you gently brushed your thumb against the bare skin of his waist. It was a moment that felt like it went on forever, both of you touching those small intimate parts of each other without saying so much as one word.

You felt butterflies in your belly when the hint of a smile twitched at his mouth, and you smiled back, sleepy and soft. You never wanted to leave this small piece of existence. You just wanted him to keep looking at you like that, his gaze holding yours with an expression you could only describe as contentedness. You'd never seen him look so relaxed; the dark circles had faded and even the lines on his face had receded into his skin. He looked younger, healthier, like all the bad things that had happened to him had vanished in one good sleep.

“Uggghhhh,” Ellie moaned a few meters away, and both your heads snapped in her direction. She was sitting up in her sleeping bag, back facing you. You could see her arms stretching above her head as she began her typical morning wake-up routine: stretch, groan, flop, repeat.

Without saying anything you'd both untangled yourselves simultaneously before she could see the sleeping arrangement you'd found yourselves in. The loss of warmth and familiarity was palpable as you quickly stood up and grabbed the rifle, walking over to the now completely burnt out fire. Joel silently folded up his blanket and your sleeping bag behind you, then muttered something about needing to look for more shit to burn.

That's how it started.

And you don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

[elliewill]

A FOOL'S GAME. III

summary: a heated argument with your ex-girlfriend ellie turns into a steamy hatefuck neither of you were expecting.

warnings: 18+!!, mean!ellie, bratty!reader, reader w/female anatomy, mentions of infidelity, namecalling, choking, pet names, tribbing, box eating, finger fucking. 3.3k words.

a/n: smut written with hit different by sza in mind, maybe hits different by miss swift if you fw it. dedicated to sexy Star @totheblood

tags: @dyk3ification @girluvrr @totheblood @coeurify

part i / part ii

“I was in such a bad place and and I mean, it's not that I'm so much better right now, I’ve just been tryin–"

"You can’t keep using that as an excuse," you jumped in, slightly disappointed that you could predict the conversation. You had heard this all before. Nothing you could ever hear would ever justify why she treated you the way she did. "Do you have any idea how pathetic I felt? How lonely? Even then, I could never do what you did to me.”

“You have to trust me, Y/N. I- I was so fucking wrong. About everything," Ellie scrambled to reason with you. With one hand, she gestured as she spoke, while the other laid just over the hem of your shorts. It was always reassuring when she used to do that. Just a small squeeze on your thigh to bring you back to the present. "I did need you. I needed you then and I still do now." 

But it didn’t have the same effect on you anymore. It disgusted you. It disgusted you so much, you almost wanted her to keep going. To keep pushing you and your boundaries. To want you so bad, that she couldn’t help herself. You agreed to become strangers again, but you knew that was the last thing you wanted. Her words meant nothing. You wanted her to fight for you, to love on you, to show you that you didn’t have to become strangers again. You wanted her to prove you so undeniably wrong.

"And what happened when I needed you? When I wanted so badly for you to love me the same way? I spent so many nights crying over you. All while you were face-fuckin’-deep in another girl’s pussy," you chastised her, your voice faltering ever so slightly as you choked back that stupid lump in your throat.The image of her infidelity would be etched in your mind forever. There wasn’t a moment of thinking about it that didn’t burn your blood hot and choke you up with tears. It was a hurt you were sure you’d never get over.

“All we did was fuck! It never meant anything to me!” Ellie exploded, spitefully swiping her hand off of your thigh.

“Oh, so I guess that means I’m supposed to forgive you? Sure, Ellie! Go ahead, fuck whoever you want! As long as it doesn’t mean anything right? Is that what you wanted me to say?”

While Ellie loved you, she knew how stubborn you were. Loyalty meant a lot to you, and she knew it. Well, fuck, it meant a lot to her too. But she couldn’t get a good read on you. Were you saying this shit because you were still angry? Or was it to punish her? Whatever it was, she had to give it to you; you knew exactly the things to say to rile her. To get under her skin and piss her off.

“God, you always do this shit. You don't have to be a bitch and rub it in my fucking face. I admit that I wasn't a good fucking person, I know! I'm fucking trying!"

“So why the fuck did you come here, Ellie?”

“I wanted to apo-”

“To apologize? Have you fucking learned nothing? You think an apology will magically make this shit go away? Make me forget what I saw? Fuck your apology,” you practically spat at her and the audacity she had. “Get this shit through your thick fucking skull. I don’t fucking forgive you.”

“No, you know what, Y/N? Fuck you! You’re right, I don’t know why I came over here. Don’t know why I ever fucking loved you.”

It felt like the whole world went quiet. Game over. The pit of disgust that sat in your chest exploded into rage. How did you end up screaming at each other again? Why did she always make you feel as if you weren’t allowed to be fuckin’ mad at what she did? Your face grew red with heat and sweat pricked your neck. You made sure to lock on to Ellie's gaze, so she'd be sure you weren't fucking around, and that your next words were absolutely intentional.

“I’m glad the feeling is mutual," you practically whispered, peering directly into those angry green eyes. You nodded slowly.  "Now get the fuck out." 

"I'm not moving," Ellie whispered back and shrugged with newfound confidence and crossed arms. Her temper might be her pitfall, but her willful attitude proved stronger. She came here to get you back and she was already in the midst of fucking it all up again — a spiteful captain on her own sinking ship.

"Ellie. Get the fuck out of my house," you hissed as you drew in toward her, her face only inches away from yours. You glared at each other like two hateful and bitter champions moments from entering the ring. 

"I'm not. fucking. leaving," Ellie said, her voice gravelly and her breath brushing your lips. Her furrowed glare flickered from your lips to your eyes as her hand came up around the base of your throat. Her slender fingers grasped at your neck, pushing you down and onto the couch.

Deeply and desperately, your lips entangled with each others’ for the first time in what felt like fucking years as you laid beneath her on your sofa. By now, the heat that had started fire in your face had traveled its way right between your legs. Fuck, how long had it been? Weeks? Months? Since you had felt those lips on yours? Since you had melted around those fingers? Since you tasted her? If you were honest, there was something about Ellie calling you a bitch that had you dripping wet underneath those shorts. 

In frantic frustration, both of your chests heaved as you rolled tongues and small breathless moans leaked through. Her rough hands traveled from your neck to your tits underneath the oversized tee you wear to bed, your nipples stiffening and aching from her reckless touch. 

“Fuck me,” you managed to moan into her mouth, prompting her to break away from the kiss. Her eyes were dark with an unrecognizable, manic lust. She quickly stripped herself of her grey hoodie, white tank and sweats, leaving just her sports bra and boxers before returning her attention to you, those soft lips, and your chest.

“That’s right, baby,” she growled against your lips before dragging hers along your neck, brashly sucking and kissing, littering your skin with purplish love bites. 

“Don’t fucking leave those marks on my neck, Ellie,” you warned her, feigning your composure as if she hadn’t left you completely breathless. You were too stubborn to admit that it felt so damn good for Ellie to claim you like this. To proudly mark her as yours after months of having frozen each other out. But god, you knew how you’d hear it from Maria and the girls on stable once they would see them.

“What? Don’t want anyone to know?” Ellie retorted defensively in between the painfully sweet, suckling bites on your collarbones. “Well, they need to know you’re fucking mine.”

As her lips drew lower on your neck, you pressed your soaking pussy harder into her knee, desperately trying to relieve yourself of the tension of your throbbing clit. You rocked against her, gnawing the inside of your cheek to mask the moaning that would’ve fallen from your lips - not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing how she still made you feel. But the harder you pushed into her, the harder she ground onto you, the strain already building in your abdomen. “So fuckin’ needy already. You’re gonna fuckin’ beg me to let you cum.”

“Fuck off,” you retorted, sliding your body up and away from her, playfully teasing her for thinking she had the control. The tension in your core began to dissipate, and throbbing nearly made you regret moving away from her touch. But you remained resolute. “I’m not gonna be begging you for shit.” 

Just like that, her fingers came around the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down to reveal the soaking panties stuck to your heat. “I mean for someone who hates me so much, you still get this fuckin’ wet for me, huh?” But before you could snipe in return, her fingers wrapped around your panties and ripped the thin fabric into two, eager to lick up the mess you already made. “Look at this mess, baby. All over this perfect little pussy.”

“I’m not your fucking baby,” you reprimanded her, focused on sliding off the remnants of your shredded panties, eager to feel her fingers glide over your slick.

“Look at me when you fuckin’ say that,” she demanded, sliding two fingers into your aching pussy and bringing her left hand to your neck, driving you absolutely wild. You locked eyes with her as you struggled to catch your breath while her grip closed on your throat.

“I’m not… your f-fuckin’,” you whimpered, your clit throbbing from the way her hand wrapped around your neck like a necklace. At the same time, her fingers rhythmically danced on that soft, sweet spot in your cunt, leaving you at a loss for words, unable to finish your original sentence. You let a groan leave your lips in defeat, your back slowly arching to the sinful sound of Ellie’s heavy breathing and the gushing from her fingers pounding into you. “Shitttt, Ellie…”

“That’s what I thought,” she taunted. She pulled her glistening fingers out from your dripping cunt and delivered a wet blow straight onto your helpless clit, earning a satisfying yelp from you. But before she continued to fuck you, her fingers were in her mouth, cleaning up your slick off of them. Her eyes glued to yours, dark with lust. You’d be lying if you said the sight of her licking up the mess on her fingers didn’t make your pussy ache. But you’d never let her know that now. “I make this perfect little pussy feel so fuckin’ good, don’t I, baby?”

She was making you wait. She craved to hear those words spill from your lips so bad that she fucking dreamt about it. The sleepless nights almost felt painfully worth it to Ellie as she seized you up with her eyes, her gaze lingering on that glossy mess of a sweet spot between your spread legs, a growing ache starting in her own.

But of course, you’d rather walk across glass before admitting how much you missed the way she made your back arch. Instead, you wanted so bad to tell her how you fucking despised her. How she disgusted you.

Except you didn’t hate her. No, you could never hate her, not even in the slightest. What you hated was that no matter what she did, how low she stooped, how unforgivably she acted… you still loved her. Sure, it was bad when it was bad, but when it was good? She knew how to make you feel too fucking good.

“Get fucked. Go find that other bitch to beg for you,” you jeered like a brat while shutting your legs.  Almost immediately after those words left your lips, her hands flew around your thighs and roughly yanked you towards her, your back now slightly lifted away from the sofa. A gasp rushed from your lips, completely caught off guard by the way Ellie handled you.

Her grip traveled toward your inner thighs, her fingers pressing hard into your skin. You were almost fully convinced that you’d see the bruises peppered across your skin later, but you were too enthralled to bring yourself to care.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so,” Ellie muttered at you, lowering her face between your legs so that her lips inches away from your cunt. Without hesitation, her tongue hungrily slipped over your clit teasingly, over and over as that familiar tension grew in your stomach again. You bit your lip, and held your breath, trying to fight the urge to grab a fistful of her hair and plunge her tongue further into your pussy. 

You tried, and you failed. Miserably.

“Oh fuckkkk yessss,” you whined, unable to keep your composure at the sound of her sloppily lapping at your cunt. Your hands flew to her auburn locks and gripped tufts of her hair between your fingers, needlessly driving her face deeper into you. She hummed into your cunt in response, the vibration hitting your clit and sending shockwaves of pleasure toward that delicious knot growing in your core. “Don’t fucking stop, Ellie, please don’t fucking stop!”

Lustful green eyes peered at you from between your legs every few seconds, thirsty to catch every twitch and shiver as her tongue worked your bud. Heat grew beneath her boxers as she stole glimpses of your chest falling and rising…the way you licked and bit your lip with eyes closed as you fervently chased that release. The feeling was becoming frantic, and you found yourself desperately craving Ellie to put you over the edge.You needily rocked your hips against her face, her lips and tongue gliding effortlessly through your folds. 

“Shittt, justlikethatbaby, please, just like that,” you whimpered, too close to bliss to curse yourself for crying out to her the way you promised you wouldn’t. But Ellie wouldn’t let that slide. “Right fuckin’ there, oh fuck right there!”

Moments away from a crashing wave of ecstasy, Ellie ripped it out from under you. She pushed herself away from your grasp to look at you fully, her nose and flush pink lips glossy from a mixture of your slick and her saliva.Your grip in her hair left her locks a wild mess, but the last thing on her mind was how her hair looked. The built up tension at your core dissolved again at the will of the girl you claimed to hate. And the dismay easily revealed itself on your face.

“Ohh, look at that. Look at who’s fuckin’ begging now,” Ellie squeezed out between her panting, a cocky grin helplessly spreading across her wet lips. She couldn’t care less how hungrily you had been chasing your climax; she wanted you to know that she won.

 But before you were able to taunt in return, her hand came up and fell quickly, delivering another hard jolt to your pussy. Her fingertips directly stung your sensitive clit and an involuntary cry rang out from your lips. Your hand flew to your pussy to comfort the painfully pleasurable sting.

“You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” she huffed, a self-satisfied smirk crooked on her face as she wiped off the wetness. Her resolve sobered you, almost competitively. You knew how bad Ellie had been wanting you, and you knew exactly how to take advantage.

“You’re one to talk. As if you’re not fuckin’ dripping…” you warned her, sitting up slowly to run your fingers across the slippery, wet spot you could see seeping through her boxers. Your hand trailed upward toward the waistband, as your fingers dipped beneath it. You could read each others’ eyes more clearly than you had ever before. A conversation was exchanged within a dark and carnal glare; you had read each other's minds and, without a single word, agreed.

She ripped off and tossed her boxers without hesitation and pressed your left leg back, positioning herself so that both your middles met perfectly. Her warm, slick cunt gently slid across yours, provoking a sharp inhale from between her teeth. With every wet and messy pass over your sensitive clit, that familiar, blissful strain began to build for both of you. 

Desirous glares and nothing but the sound of frenzied breaths and slippery contact of your gushing pussies were driving you over the edge. Ellie’s bucking became desperate, low moans leaking from her lips in ways she knew she’d kick herself for later. Her fingers dug into the thigh of the leg she pinned back, the tension balling up in her stomach almost irresistibly. It didn’t help to watch you writhe in pleasure beneath her, with your pretty parted lips and breathy whines and moans.

 “God, your pussy feels so fuckin’ good baby,” she managed to squeeze out in between sharp breaths and low moans, her left hand wandering toward your chest and roughly squeezing one of your tits. “I’m s-so fucking close.”

“Oh god, Els, ohhh fuckkkk, you’re gonna make me cum,” you groaned breathily, rocking your hips in time with hers, watching the sweat glisten off of her toned stomach in the warm lamplight. Watching her fuck you was pushing you over the edge, with her face screwed up in anticipatory pleasure, her lips wet and spouting the dirty sweet nothings you craved to hear.

“Shitttt, baby, cum with me,” Ellie growled, leaning forward to wrap her hand around your throat again, the purple and red marks from her brash kisses now more darkly staining your skin. The pressure of her grip closed in on your windpipe, dispelling any remaining breath from your lips and leaving no way to inhale again. You almost hated that she always knew how to make your climax the most intense ones you’d ever had. “Be a good girl and cum with me, baby.”

You could feel the blood rushing to your head while that euphoric feeling swelled in your lower half. Your hand flew Ellie’s hand on your neck which somehow gripped even tighter as that intense feeling rolled in her abdomen. She had squeezed her eyes shut, her brows furrowed in a desperate focus and her breath becoming shallow.

“F-fuck!” you tried to squeeze out from under her grasp, nothing but a whiny whisper leaving your lips. 

You couldn’t help but go quiet as your eyes rolled back, your lips parted and the muscles in your legs and abs tensed. Ellie continued to grind herself against you, sending an earth-shattering wave of pleasure from your core, your back arching in pure electrifying bliss. You dug your nails into her forearm as she gripped your throat, her control of your breath amplifying the intense and muscle-tightening pangs of pleasure from your pussy. 

“G-god, Y/N…” Ellie stammered out as you watched her eyebrows pinch at the center, lips slowly parting in ecstasy.  She vehemently rubbed herself against you through her climax, unbridled and involuntary moans escaping her lips as her muscles tensed and flexed over you.

As the feeling began to subside, Ellie let go of your windpipe, allowing you to inhale an exhilarating headrush of air, goosebumps forming along your skin at the gratification. 

She collapsed against you in calm exhaustion, her warm, damp skin sticking to yours as she lay on your bare chest. Both of your chests rose and fell as you descended from the euphoria you experienced moments before. Your hand almost instinctively came up to push her hair away from her sweat-beaded temples while she laid there. But you almost didn’t want to catch yourself.

“…Hope you don’t think this shit means I forgive you, asshole,” you said spitefully, to overcome whatever it was that you were feeling when you decided to brush her hair away. But you pushed her off of you as you both sat up, unable to meet each others’ eyes. 

“Oh pleaseee,” Ellie mocked. “Had you screaming my name and you still hate me?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you picked up your oversized sleep shirt from the side of the couch. You worked on turning it the right way round and pulling it over your head. This time, you were able to meet her green eyes just for a fleeting moment, a flicker of disappointment behind them.

 “Fuck you, Ellie. Yes. I still hate you.”

[ode2rin]

it's all me, just don't go

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. post-argument, hurt/comfort this time (^o^) | fluff too actually (?)

warnings. swearing, and probably a lil ooc rin .. well he's a bit of a loser here (i like loser men) this is also not proofread basically wrote it on a whim T_T i also listened to "afterglow" by taylor swift while writing hehe so it's a bit inspired to that

note. it's the part 2 of this | i'm supposed to be figuring this whole platform out but instead made a part 2 of the rin fic bec he got me in chokehold istg

before you could make up your mind, you felt the door knob twisting, startling you. you froze, heart pounding against your chest. as the door swung open, it revealed a distraught rin hastily trying to wear his coat.

your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you were both suspended in time.

itoshi rin was not known for being a man of many words, but for you, he rehearsed every possible apology he could think of as he’ll search for you in every street around. he would’ve apologized a hundred times over if it meant you would return home to him. if you’re not ready to come home with him, he’ll leave you alone. he’ll leave the apartment, if it means you’ll stay where he knows you’re safe. he’ll tell you he’ll be good for you. fuck, he’ll be the best for you. he would have changed his ways, toned down his ego, anything to prove his love to you. he’ll tell you anything, just please, for the love of whatever divine forces watching over him, please come home.

he prepared a lot to say, a lot to make up for. he never prepared for a staring contest with you right now. rin’s hands ached to hold you. he wants – needs to fucking hold you so close, feel your warmth and know that you were still his. but every thought and intention he had practiced vanished in the face of your presence, leaving him at a loss for words.

rin saw the hurt in your eyes, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt in his chest. he had hurt you, and seeing the pain written so plainly on your face made him ache inside.

but the hurt in you was no longer remnants of the argument you had, it was because of your lover standing in front of you right now.

as rin’s eyes met yours, you noticed that his eyes were slightly red-rimmed and there was a streak of dried tears in his cheeks.  at the realization that rin had been crying, you felt your heart lay down in pieces. you knew how rin’s mind tends to jump into the brinks of overthinking. he must’ve thought you’re never coming back, hence him leaving the apartment and going after you.

the sight of him was far from what the world thought about itoshi rin. this was no egoist. 

no, this was a man, vulnerable and afraid, his heart laid bare for you to see. 

and in that moment, you knew, no longer a shred of doubt clouding your mind, that you definitely seen past beyond his walls.

you wasted no time breaking the suffocating silence that enveloped you both, your voice low and small as you uttered a timid “hi.” you couldn't bear to look into rin's eyes, instead opting to cast your gaze downward as you tried to form coherent sentences. “i'm sorry for leaving,” you managed to say, your words strained with regret. “i just needed some fresh air, and i thought maybe you wanted some time alone. i'm sorry–”

before you could continue, rin's towering frame engulfed you in a tight embrace. you felt his arms wrap around you protectively, and you couldn't help but lean into him. "you have nothing to apologize for, it was on me," rin murmured, his voice soft and laced with guilt. he wondered why the hell were you even apologizing when you had done nothing wrong but love him, despite being a huge asshole.

you were about to reply, but rin beat you to it, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "i'm so fucking sorry, baby. i didn't mean any of the shit i told you. i'm sorry i hurt you. i lashed out at you for things you never did, and i took it out on you because i was scared over something so fucking lukewarm." you could hear the sniffling between his words, but you didn't mention it, instead burying your face further into his chest as he held you tighter.

rin's grip on you intensified, as if he was afraid he'd lose you if he let go. he took your silence as a cue to cradle your face in his palms and press your foreheads together, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“i’m sorry. i’ll be good to you, y/n. just please, don’t leave..” me. rin couldn't bring himself to say it, the mere thought of losing you driving him to the brink of madness.

he closed his eyes, unwilling to see your face and see a trace of rejection or any thought of you leaving him. for a moment, it felt like rin couldn't even breathe. the silence between you was again suffocating, and he knew he needed to hear something, anything. "please, y/n. say something," he implored, desperation evident in his tone.

“open your eyes, rinnie” at the sound of his nickname rolling off your lips, he hesitantly opened his eyes to look at you. 

glad he did, because you’re smiling. 

it took one smile. one fucking smile from you, and itoshi rin felt he can breathe again. 

“will you let me let you go?” 

“fuck no.”

you let out a small chuckle at the speed of his answer, all with his familiar snarky voice. you placed your hands in his cheeks and you can see the relief wash over rin's face at the gesture. 

he looks at you as if you're his lifeline, and in this moment, you are.

“you better not. because i’m not going anywhere, rin.” you say, your voice filled with conviction.

“i'm never letting you go,” he whispers, his eyes still locked onto yours.

you both stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the warmth of your embrace. for the first time in a while, everything feels right.

tomorrow, you know there will be more apologies and a lot of talking. tomorrow, both of you will try harder to be better for each other. and tomorrow, hand in hand, you and rin will face whatever lies ahead.

but tonight, both of you will let your fragile hearts hold on to each other and your frantic minds to be at peace in each other’s arms. tonight, itoshi rin will spend every second convincing himself that you’re his to love and here to stay. tonight, he will love you better.

[auteurdelabre]

SO MUCH TO LOSE - CHAPTER 9 - dark!Joel x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Words: 7.4k

Chapter Tags:  sexual tension, mentions of suggested abuse, girl-bonding, Joel being Joel, reader being oblivious.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

A/N: Y’ALL really came through with the comments! It made me stay up far too late typin’ away. But I’m glad to deliver this to my sweet audience and I hope you continue to bless me with your thoughts, reblogs and funny tags. Also lemme know if you have money and wanna give me some because your girl is BROKE y'all. BROKE.

Wednesday - my bb, my light, my sweet please never stop commenting on A03 because I read those like others read stories. I laugh, I cry, I emote. Never stop.

Also, two people should NEVER ride a horse when one’s in a saddle. It’s horrible for the horse! But this is fiction so y’all gotta forgive me for it, all right?

Lastly - Chapter 10 is.... gonna be memorable. That's all I'm sayin'.

SO MUCH TO LOSE: CHAPTER 9

You toss in bed a short while later, your mind going a mile a minute. You can't get the memory of Joel's furious face out of your mind. You can’t get Ellie’s sad eyes and her tensed shoulders to leave you. You can’t stop imagining what happened the second you left their home.

Part of you wanted to run right back to that house on Rancher Street and to beg Joel’s forgiveness for intruding. It was never your information to gather, not your place to pry. It was information never given willingly and for that you understand his fury. You understand it better than most.

But the other part of you, perhaps the part that had brought you to tears as you left had been the sight of Ellie's horror at your question. Of would Joel hurt her? Because in Ellie’s eyes you saw her own lingering question reflected. 

Who hurt you? 

It's too complicated to get into, too personal and that's why you think you feel this overwhelming sense of guilt. Because if you'd come home to the space you shared with someone else and heard them divulging your biggest secrets, your deepest wounds, you can't say you would have acted any different.

In fact, you might have been worse.

You turn your head, noting that it's only now starting to grow dark. You hadn't even bothered with dinner. Just pulled on your sleeping clothes and robe and thrown yourself into bed. You wanted to forget the hours before, wanted sleep to claim you and help you erase the day.

But you can’t. You just lay there twisted in your sheets, feeling like a stranger in your own body. You consider trying a warm shower when you hear a sudden thudding on your front door. This isn't Ellie or Jennifer. This is someone else and you have a pretty good idea who. 

You think that you should just stay in bed, try to ignore the insistent pounding. But you need to pay for your mistake. This is your penance. You move down the stairs and to the front door opening it slowly. 

Joel is standing on your porch, his broad frame looming over your door. His hands are on either side of the frame, braced as if he has to physically hold himself back.

When you pull the door open he juts his chin forward aggressively. He hasn't even bothered putting a jacket on, despite the weather. He's wearing just his green flannel and a scowl that makes you take a physical step back. 

"Joel-"

"You think I'd hurt Ellie?" Joel says, teeth clenched. "Hurt my own fuckin' kid?"

You glance quickly over his shoulder noting that the street is deserted. Your street is one of the newer ones, less populated. It makes you nervous to see him looking so furious with no witnesses. But you answer him anyway.   

"I don't know you at all," you tell him with a wince. "For all I knew you could have and I felt responsible."

His jaw is clenched tightly, ticking as he glares at you. You can see the fury building there in his frame and it makes you tremble. But you swallow, raising your spine and fixing him with what you hope is confidence.

"You yanked me around on patrols before," you remind him, swallowing your fear the best you can. "You're known for being ruthless with raiders. Most everyone is terrified of you. Is it really that much of a stretch?"

For the first time this evening you think that what you're saying registers with Joel because he blinks and some of that inky black in his gaze grows a soft brown.

"I've never hit you. Never come close." His voice is soft, almost admonished. 

"No," you concede, "but you haven't exactly been gentle either." 

Joel takes in the way you're cowering, the way you flinch when he shifts. He sobers, lowering his hands from your doorframe, pushing himself back from you. 

"I'd never hurt a kid," he murmurs. “I’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

He takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. You wonder if he sees the blotchy pink of your tear-stained face or the dark circles under your eyes from barely sleeping this week.  

Joel's eyes narrow and without stepping closer to you it feels like he gets nearer when he speaks low and even. 

"Your dad hurt you or somethin'?"

You're momentarily thrown by this question from Joel. He's never really asked you anything this personal before. You toy with the idea of closing the door on his face because he doesn’t deserve to know you this way. But you think of how vulnerable he must feel with you having all this information about his past, about his Sarah, and you answer.

"No," you tell him honestly. “My dad was amazing.”

"Your mom then?"

"No."

You cross your arms over your chest, indicating that the conversation is now at an end. You've shared as much as you are willing to at this point in time. 

Joel looks equally stoic despite the nature of his questioning. His eyes drift over your body for the first time since he arrived at your doorstep, fixing on your sleep clothes and open robe before shooting back to your gaze. You pull your robe around your body, shivering at the cold draft coming in from the outside. Joel clears his throat. 

"Ellie never should have told you all that about me," he says. "Wasn't her information to share." 

"It was my fault. I never should have pressed her for details," you admit, talking to his shoulder. "It wasn't my place." 

Joel exhales through his nose by way of reply. The two of you stand in quiet thought before you feel compelled to ask.

"Did Ellie get in a lot of trouble?"

When he doesn't answer you finally move your eyes from his shoulder to his face, surprised to see he's staring at you. He's not going to answer you, you realize. You barely know him and it's between him and his daughter. 

You worry that you've messed everything up with Ellie. You feel like it's your fault that the fight happened at all. You think of how pleasant the afternoon had been with flower making and hair brushing. You hate to think of that going away. You swallow, gathering your nerves.  

"Am I still allowed to teach her to bake?"

After a moment Joel sucks his teeth and nods shallowly.

You shift where you stand, one hand still on the doorknob. It's warm under your palm. If Joel was anyone else you'd invite him in for a hot drink given the weather. But as it's him you simply stand awkwardly across from him. 

Joel peers into your face, gaze darting from each of your eyes to the next and back again. There's something about his stare that feels warm and heavy, something endless. 

"Get some sleep."

He says it softly, a husky command with none of its usual bite. Then he's gone, giving you one last look before he's taking off down the stairs of your porch. You watch his tall frame head down your street, scissoring through the night air until he's nothing but mist. 

And strangely the second you close the door you feel your feet taking you to your bed. You hear his voice quietly rumbling in your mind as you crawl under the covers.

Get some sleep. 

Permission. A command. A hushed order that gives you the freedom to just sink into the warmth of your bed, to close your eyes and feel your breath even out. 

And in seconds you're fast asleep. 

///

Jennifer greets you when you open your door to leave for patrols the next day, crowding your doorframe.

"I thought we could walk to patrols together."

"Okay." You pull your jacket around you, bracing yourself. 

You've known popular girls like Jennifer. The kind that roll their eyes and call you sensitive if you don't like how they treat you. You assume that this is what awaits you now.

"I'm so sorry for how I acted at the Bison."

You can’t say you were expecting that.

"I was trying to impress Joel," she continues. “Make it seem like we were all in on the joke together.”

When you see her standing there with her gloved hands clasped, looking apologetic you feel your animosity dropping from you like an unnecessary jacket.

"And I just... I never should have put you on the spot,” she continues. “I was just trying to go along with things, but that's not how friends act. My mama raised me better than that."

You know that what she's saying is important, but all you can focus on is that she just confirmed you two are friends.  You have a real friend.

"S'okay," you offer quietly. 

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Did you get my cookies?"

"Yep, they were good."

You don't make it a habit to lie to friends but she looks so proud of herself that you can't help it. She beams, clearly proud of herself. She doesn’t need to know that they’re at the bottom of your waste bin. 

"I'm so glad you liked them."

You want to say something kind to Jennifer, something that lets her know that you’ve forgiven her. Maybe its guilt from the fact that the cookies were barely touched. Whatever it is you scan her body, landing on her beautifully tailored jacket.

“I like your jacket,” you tell her, observing the dark green and black of the pattern and hood. “It’s really pretty.”

“Thanks, I made it myself,” she tells you proudly.  “Barely any time at all.”

“Tell me you didn’t just make it just for this patrol,” you say fixing her with a look. Jennifer goes pink and starts giggling. “Jennifer!”

"Oh hush,” she says elbowing your side gently.

You can’t help but laugh at your friend as the two of you head off to patrols, chatting pleasantly as you make your way down the path to town. Jennifer is animated as always, her voice lilting and cheerful.

“Luke was really disappointed when you took off," she mentions with a sly smile and side eye. "I just know he's excited about today."

You flush, eyes on the ground, not saying anything. The truth is you're very excited to see Luke today. You want to learn more about him, see his likes and dislikes. 

"Joel left soon after you did," Jennifer tells you with a frown after a few moments. "But I mean he came and had a drink with us so that has to count for something."

"Totally." 

You've reached the fence and see three of the horses lined up, tied and waiting. Luke is patting Glimmer but he waves to you both as you approach. Your stomach flips pleasantly at the sight of his light hair falling into his eyes.

Chestnut whinnies gently as you approach, his long neck arching towards you. You smile as he ambles over to greet you the best he can.

"Hi boy," you whisper, gently patting down his long muzzle. "You having a good day? Huh?"

"Hiya Glimmer," Jennifer coos. You think that this must be her usual ride on her patrols. 

"Morning Luke," you offer, trying to appear nonchalant. 

"Mornin'."  Luke’s smile is shy but earnest. "We missed ya this week."

"Yeah?"

He nods and you feel your face grow hot because you are sure Jennifer is staring at you both with a smirk. "Yeah, missed shootin’ with ya."

You busy yourself with running your hand over chestnuts flank, all the while trying not to read into things. Maybe Luke just likes having a fellow peer there?  

Or maybe he likes me.

You have to admit to yourself that you have a crush even if crushes feel so adolescent in your mind after everything that happened to the world. But there’s something that makes you want to laugh at the way some things never change. Humans will continue to lust, even after the earth is swallowed by disease.

"Looks like a simple enough job," Jennifer observes looking at the few pieces of lumber strapped to the horses. Enough that it's good for building but not too heavy for them to carry. You go to reply when you hear a booming voice sounding out behind you. 

"S'a fucking joke. Gettin' them all the way over here just to be one short."

Joel is arguing with Hank, one of the crew. Hank is an older with an under bite and bushy eyebrows. He fixes Joel with a formidable stare. He’s one of the few in Jackson City not intimidated by the elder Miller.  

"I don't know what to tell ya Joel," Hank shrugs. "It's all we got."

"What's going on?" Jennifer asks, swanning over to the men. She stands close to Joel, her shoulder brushing against his. You notice as his dark eyes sweep over her face as he notices her.

"Only three horses available today," Hank explains to her. "Others were taken out."

"Why?"

"Heard about an intercepted shipment of medicine nearby. Sent a bunch of folks after it. Anyway, one of you'll have to double up."

Joel makes a huffing noise before shouldering past Hank and hauling himself up onto Midnight. He's made it very clear he won't be riding with anyone. That leaves you, Jennifer and Luke. In habit you go to grab Chestnut’s bridle. Jennifer is determined not to go down without a fight. 

"I'm small," Jennifer says in a breathy voice you don't really recognize as hers. "I'll double."

She looks directly at Joel who is going to great lengths to look anywhere else. If it weren’t so awkward you might have laughed, but instead you try to hide your smile behind your glove.

Oblivious to the dynamic, Luke pats the side of his horse. 

"You can ride on the back of mine if you want Jenny," Luke offers with a friendly tip of his head.

Your smile immediately dies. Why didn’t you volunteer? Jennifer pauses, waiting for Joel to inject.

Get the fucking hint, Joel. 

He doesn’t.  He just shifts the two guns he’s carrying on his back, clearing his throat.

You see how crestfallen Jennifer looks, but it’s for only a moment before she shines a bright smile Luke's way as she hauls herself up behind him, lacing her hands around his middle.

"Thanks, Luke." 

With that settled you yourself mount Chestnut, stroking his mane gently. Hank comes over to hand you a backpack. It’s heavy and you make a soft huffing noise when you hoist it onto your shoulders.

“Nails and hammers,” Hank explains. “You got it?”

“Yep,” you nod, trying to look in command of yourself with Luke’s eyes on you. “No problem.”

You feel the coarse hair of Chestnut under your gloved fingertips and squeeze your thighs to prompt him forward.  You follow after Joel in habit with Glimmer carrying Luke and Jennifer close behind. The ride to Teton is quiet, but not in a tense way, more distracted.

The backpack as it stands is a problem though because you’re wincing with every jostling step Chestnut takes. The bag is impossibly heavy and it digs into your shoulders like a too-tight bra.

You hear Luke and Jennifer quietly talking with one another on Glimmer. There are quiet giggles and you hear Luke chuckle softly. You feel irritated at Joel not taking Jennifer on his horse with him. Of course he wouldn't - Joel gets his way every time. So you've lost your chance to bond with Luke. 

You could be on the back of Glimmer with him. Your arms could be around Luke's waist right now, your thighs bracketing his. You could be feeling the warmth of his body seeping into your front. 

But you're not. 

You're stuck in the middle listening to Luke's gentle chuckle behind you and watching Joel's broad frame in front of you. As you stare at Joel with the guns on his back your mind drifts to last night. 

Have you and Joel moved past your mutual disdain for one another? You’re not quite sure.  Right now you’re irritated with him, but there’s less bite to it today. You think maybe you’re both at a polite acceptance of one another. Joel looks back every now and again, his eyes sailing to you and the group behind you. You roll your shoulders, gritting your teeth when the bag digs into the flesh there.

“’Bout halfway there,” he tells the group even though you’re well aware.

Joel is a natural leader checking in on his troops. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the forces before all of this. You know that he worked in construction and that he must have been around horses considering he’s such a capable rider. But that’s it.

Perhaps he and Sarah rode horses together. This thought comes to you despite knowing nothing about the girl. Nevertheless you wonder what she looked like. Was she dour and broad like Joel? You imagine her as bubbly and quick with his dark hair.

You watch as Joel slows Midnight and Chestnut quickly overtakes him, their hooves trotting along the earth until the two of you ride side by side. You’re confused and you feel Joel’s eyes on your profile and after a moment you turn to see him staring at the bag and then back to your face.

“Gimme the bag,” he orders gently.

“I’m fine,” you lie. You wonder if he can see the strain in your neck as you say this. He rolls his eyes, huffing out his nostrils.

“You need to be carrying a weapon,” Joel informs you. “Won’t do much damage to a Raider with a heavy backpack.”

He’s right. He’s not doing it to be nice; he’s doing it to be efficient. How Joel of him.

You want to fight him on it but the thought of having the heavy thing off your shoulders is too appealing. You relent as the horses come to stop beside one another. You tug off your bag, handing it to Joel who straps one of the guns to the side of it and slings it over his muscled shoulders. The bag doesn’t even look oversized on him and he carries it with no strain whatsoever.

He hands you off the large shotgun and you throw it over your shoulder, thankful for the padding in the leather sling. Without another word Joel makes a clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth and he and Midnight quickly head up the group once more. 

When you get to Teton Village and the four of you do the usual perimeter check you’re feeling bolder and a little bit restless. You feel like you want to impress Luke but can’t think of any meaningful way to do so. He’ll be upstairs hammering and nailing while you stand watch at the window like a senior citizen waiting for the postman. It’s almost embarrassing that you were brought along at all.

When you approach the outpost though you have an idea on how to appear more capable. You urge Chestnut on ahead of Joel and tie the sweet creature quickly to the tree before jogging up the large old library steps.

“I’ve got the lock,” you call over your shoulder casually. Joel is already off his horse and striding towards you with several pieces of lumber slung over his shoulder; Luke is helping Jennifer off of Glimmer. You turn back, fiddling with the code confidently.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck.”

You try it again, the same one you were taught and then you tug. It’s still not working.

“C’mon,” you whisper angrily to yourself, “c’mon you piece of shit.”

Again the silver tabs are moved to the correct code and again you jerk it only to find it sticking fast. Is it the encroaching cool weather? Your confidence is hanging by a thread when a large ungloved hand comes out of nowhere, coming to gently bat your fingers away.

“Code changed last week,” Joel says lowly behind you.

You feel the warmth of his taller body behind you, his words stirring the hair at the back of your head. You say nothing as you watch his fingers fiddle with the new numbers, sliding them into place. You want to memorize them for next time. His arm rests beside your shoulder as he works his thick thumbs slide the silver tabs. Finally it unlocks and Joel removes the lock, placing it in his pocket.

“Sorry you couldn’t impress your little boyfriend.”

You feel your cheeks burn with humiliation despite the fact that only he and you could hear the murmured remark. He moves past you, Luke and Jennifer carry the remaining lumber. The four of you make your way into the house and wordlessly Joel heads upstairs to begin.

“That was so sweet of Joel to take the bag,” Jennifer whispers to you with hearts in her eyes. “Chivalrous.”

You don’t reply. Why shatter her illusion of who she thinks Joel is? Maybe with her affection and softness he could become that. Maybe with the right woman Joel Miller is chivalrous and romantic.

Maybe it’s just with you that he’s an antagonistic asshole.

The three of them pad up the stairs with the supplies as you stand by the door. You know you're not much use upstairs so you busy yourself writing in the log notes about the repairs. You hear the banging and the conversations upstairs as you move from the small room towards the window of the fireplace room; your eyes surveying the grey of old snow.

You yawn after a short while, bored. There’s nothing out there. There never is in town. That’s why you like Teton village so much. It’s quiet and sleepy and there’s no real danger. Perhaps it’s the large buildings or the lack of footprints. Whatever it is, you find yourself relaxing.

Joel and Jennifer jog down the stairs with Joel not passing you a glance. Jennifer gives you a thumbs up and mouths “getting more wood”. You hear the sound of Luke hammering upstairs and take a moment to consider your next moves.

This may be your only chance.

You scurry up the steps towards the far room, following the sound of Luke’s hammering. You stop when you see him, mid hammer. His back muscles ripple under his t-shirt, a line of sweat down the middle. It’s warm in this room, and judging by the repairs done they have been working quickly and efficiently.

“Hey,” you offer as you approach him, heartened when he turns and flashes you a friendly smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his t-shirt. You turn away at the sliver of taut abdomen that shows itself when he does. Your whole body is going tingly.

“Hey, you come to help us?”

“Oh I would just slow you down,” you say with a shy laugh, your eyes landing anywhere but his handsome face. “Every time I try to hammer the nail goes crooked.”

“You just haven’t been taught correctly then,” Luke ventures, “come here and I’ll give you a lesson.”

You try to keep yourself from jogging over, attempting to appear casual. He holds his hammer out to you as you approach.

"Here.”

You take it from him, facing the sill of the window that he’s been working on. You nearly jolt when you feel his hands land on your shoulders. He notices your flinch, his hands flying off of you at the first contact.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry just distracted,” you insist, feeling your cheeks heat. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Luke’s hands go to your wrists now, placing the nail in your left fingers and positioning it on the sill.

“You just need to start with it straight. Lotta people angle it without thinking and…”

You know that Luke’s talking more but you’re having trouble focusing because you feel him pressing up behind you, his hand sliding over yours and helping you to hold the nail in place.

“A lot of people make the mistake of hitting the nail shallowly a bunch of times instead of once or twice with harsh blows,” he explains. You feel a warmth go through your body as Luke's curls over yours. He’s so tall, so gentle, so earnest.  You feel his voice rumbling through his chest into your back.

He places the hammer in your right hand before he covers your hand with his effectively holding each of your hands like you're a puppet. He positions the nail in the wood once more, bringing your hand and the hammer back. You’re completely boneless, letting yourself melt into his arms.

"So if you hold it-"

Whatever thought Luke had dies at the sound of Joel's rasping voice behind you. 

"What're you doin'?"

You and Luke glance over your shoulders to see Joel scowling. He's got a stack of the remaining lumber over his shoulder. Jennifer is beside him, looking between Luke and Joel in confusion, a box of nails in her grip. 

Luke still has his arms around yours, guiding you. Both sets of arms are raised midway. It looks like you’re in some strange dance routine involving hammers and nails. Joel drops the lumber to the floor with a thud, his gaze icily on Luke.

"I was just teaching her how to put up the frame," Luke explains with a soft tone. You recognize that he's a gentle man, not one for confrontation. Joel intimidates him; he likely has since he met him. For whatever reason Joel is especially cold to Luke.

"This ain't a teachin' moment," Joel all but growls, his larger frame barreling towards the two of you. "We're here to do a job and get it done fast so we don’t draw attention."

You feel Luke shrinking back, arms lowering, but his frame still rests behind you as if he's worried about leaving you entirely. 

"I wanted to learn how to do the repairs," you explain trying to be diplomatic. 

"S'not why you were brought," Joel bites back.

He shocks you when he reaches out to take your wrist, tugging you away from Luke. You stagger towards Joel, eyes wide almost barreling into his chest. He holds you tightly, looking down into your face.

"You're here to keep watch while we do this. That’s your job."

His voice is harsh but his eyes are gentle. It's a confusing dichotomy that has you careening from one emotion to the next. You settle on anger when you feel Jennifer and Luke watching you. Your cheeks burn with humiliation at being talked to like this in front of them and you shoot a glare at Joel before you wrench your wrist his grip.

“Let’s break for lunch,” Jennifer suggests, noting the tension.

“Good idea,” Luke says with a smile.

Everyone waits for Joel’s eventual nod before the four of you head downstairs to the log room.

There are thankfully enough chairs because you can’t imagine the awkwardness of standing around eating after everything that happened. Right now you want to sink into your chair and disappear for a few hours.

What the fuck is Joel’s problem?

Jennifer thankfully starts chatting to fill the silence and pulls out the meals from her bag. Two sandwiches each, a thermos of coffee and what appears to be fresh brownies along with the usual water and apples.

Joel goes off for a moment, muttering about feeding the horses. The three of you take a seat around the table, focused on the sweet-smelling brownies.

“Those look so good,” Luke says when Jennifer pulls them out. “I love baked goods.”

“You should try her stuff,” Jennifer says motioning to you with a wink. “Everyone in town says how good her baking is.”

You could kiss Jennifer for the way she’s trying to make you look good in front of Luke. You make a mental note to do the same for her and Joel. Jennifer has many good redeeming qualities and Joel just simply doesn’t see them.

“S’not that good,” you say with a shy little giggle as you bite into your sandwich.

“It is so!” Jennifer insists, unwrapping her own.  

“Guess I’ll have to see for myself,” Luke says grinning and taking a sip of his coffee. You don’t say anything but you shift slightly when Joel comes to take the empty seat next to you. He reaches across you to grab one of the sandwiches, peeling back the waxy cloth that holds it.

The room goes quiet again, a side effect of Joel-Miller-iti; because whenever he enters a room it goes deadly quiet. You wonder if he was like this before – was he always so gruff? So grumpy? How could Tommy be so opposite to him?

You wish it was Tommy with the rest of you today. Tommy with his easy laugh and warm countenance. You expect the rest of lunch to go in silence when all of a sudden it’s Joel who breaks it.

"You're good at window repair, Jenny. You must’ve done a lot.”

Jennifer flushes prettily and thanks him in a voice that feels a lot more breathy than necessary.

For some reason this innocuous comment from Joel has your fingers curling into the wood table. Your leg starts to twitch as you rock your leg up and down restlessly on the ball of your foot.

You spent weeks trying to earn Joel’s praise as a patrol partner. You were dutiful and listened and tried your best and he gave you nothing back unless his cock was in your mouth. Jennifer has been working for thirty minutes and he gives her his praise so freely?

If he wasn't sitting beside you, you would be fixing him with your most glowering stare. You wish you weren’t so shy, so quiet. You’d give him a piece of your mind next week on patrols if you had the guts.

“I grew up doing repairs on our house with my brothers,” Jennifer answers and you know she’s beside herself with all this attention from Joel. He’s got his eyes fixed on her and his normally scowling face is brighter, his mouth in a polite smile.

“You had good teachers.”

“I taught them, actually,” she smiles brightly.

“Impressive.”

You continue to bop your leg, the feeling distracting you from your frustration. You hasten a glance at Luke who hasn’t so much as glanced up from his lunch since the meal started. He’s shy like you, quiet and introspective especially when Joel is around. You think that’s why you enjoy his company so much. You feel like you want him to feel included.

“You did construction too, right Luke?”

“Yep,” he nods, swallowing before taking one of the brownies and breaking it apart in his hands. “Cabinetry especially.

“Cool,” you offer awkwardly. You wish you knew more about the topic but your interest and acumen in that field is limited. Your knee continues to bop anxiously as you try to think of ways to get the conversation to continue.

“I was just learning flooring and trim carpentry when the outbreak started,” he continues as you nod along as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Oh, wow.”

Jennifer keeps sneaking looks across the table at Joel and if your hunch is correct he’s probably doing the same to her. Despite your previous annoyance with him the thought warms you, that perhaps there is a mutual attraction for your friend and Joel. You wonder if you should warn her about Joel’s temper but decide that Joel may not show that side of himself to her if he can help it.

After what you’ve learned about Joel and Sarah, there is a softness inside you that maybe thinks Jennifer could be good for Joel. You resolve to do whatever you can to make it work for them. Joel isn’t your friend, but Jennifer is. And if she wants Joel you’ll do all you can to make it happen.

You almost yelp when Joel's hand grips your knee, holding your restless leg in place. He leans towards you, voice dropping a register and sliding into a soft rasp. 

"Stop shakin' your damn leg. You’re knockin’ over the coffees."

You’re doing no such thing, but part of you thinks he misses ordering you around. He must like the sense of control it gives him. He misses being a big shot and you’re the closest thing he has to a professional underling. All your kind sentiments about him go flying out the window. You were naïve to think there could be a possible friendship there. Hell, not even a friendship – just a respectful mutual tolerance.

You feel an embarrassed flush cross your features, pulling back from Joel’s touch. His fingers slowly unlatch from your knee and his palm lingers a moment before being removed entirely. 

“You do a lot of repairs before all this?” Jennifer asks Joel. You surprise yourself by listening, intrigued for more information on pre-outbreak Joel.

“Yep.”

He takes a long swig of his coffee before wiping at his mouth and speaking before Jennifer has the chance to ask more follow up personal questions.

“Alright, let’s finish it up. I’ll see you two up there.”

He doesn’t spare anyone a glance before he’s on his feet, heading up the stairs. Luke joins him moments later, leaving you and Jennifer sitting across from one another.

When she’s certain the men are upstairs she looks beside herself with delight and leans forward conspiratorially.

“Do you think Joel was flirting?” she whispers, her light eyes dancing. “I mean, Luke is way better at repairs but he didn’t say anything nice to him.”

“Definitely,” you reason, looking thoughtful. “He doesn’t really talk much normally, so I think that’s a good sign.”

“I’m gonna ride back with him,” Jennifer says hiding a giggle behind her hand.

“Go for it,” you say, unable to stop from smiling. You can’t help but enjoy her excitement.

“I wonder what he kisses like,” she muses, her eyes dreamy. You shrug your shoulders and she fixes you with that same sisterly look. “When’s the last time you had a really good make out?”

“Uh…” you trail off, your cheeks heating. “We can talk about it later. He’ll be pissed off if you don’t get up there soon. Don’t wanna blow your chances now.”

Jennifer gives you a grateful squeeze on the shoulder as she passes, calling up to Joel and Luke that she’s just grabbing some extra nails. You don’t hear their reply because you’ve dragged yourself to the window, your eyes scanning.

You hear them nailing upstairs, the muffled sound of their talking. As always you're on the edge, forever on the outside. You chew at the inside of your cheek in irritation, your eyes scanning the outside.

It's not long after that the three come back downstairs dressed for travel. Jennifer is pulling on her gloves and chatting with Luke about the rumors of heavy snow and Joel is carrying his bag with the tools over one shoulder. He fixes you with an expectant stare, brows raised.

"See anythin’?"

"Nope. Would've said something if I did." 

Joel stares at you, unblinking and you're confused when you see a small curl of his lip in amusement. 

"S'go." 

The four of you trudge towards the waiting horses. Chestnut looks excited to see you and you grin as you approach. You press your forehead to his cheek, stroking down his flank as the rest of the group begins to pick a horse.

"I can ride with someone again," Jennifer offers and you watch with a touch of amusement as she subtly steps towards Joel who has just climbed atop Midnight. 

"Nah, let's switch it up," Joel says gruffly. "That way s’fair for everyone."

Luke looks your way and you hold in a nervous grin. He’s going to make the same offer to you that he did to Jennifer because he’s a gentleman that way.

The thought has your stomach fluttering excitedly. You think of how your arms will wrap around his middle, how you’ll find an excuse to press your cheek to his shoulder blade. How your thighs will-

"Get on."

Your brows knit together in confusion as you gaze up to your right to see Joel on his horse, holding out a gloved hand in front of your face. His curls fall into his forehead as he tilts towards you, mouth in a firm line.

What the fuck is he doing? Why is he trying to fuck this up for you?

“S’go,” Joel tells you, shaking an impatient outstretched hand from atop of his horse. He looks like he’s irritated out of his mind as you make your decision.

"Oh, uh," you glance at the disappointment in Luke's face before turning back to Joel, trying to hide your irritation. 

It makes sense after all; Luke already had to ride with Jennifer. But a part of you had been hoping to spend a bit of time with him on the horse. It's been a long while since a man intrigued you like Luke.

"We don't have all day," Joel snipes at your hesitation. "Let's go."

Jennifer strides forward, taking Chestnut’s bridle from you. You hand it over before looking back up at Joel who waits with one hand on his saddle horn, the other still at your eye level.

You clench your jaw and take his hand, hooking your foot into the footing of Midnight’s saddle and feeling the muscle of Joel’s arm as you grip his bicep and he pulls you astride the horses back behind him. 

He shifts, giving you room to slide behind the saddle. You do so, holding in  a sigh as you position yourself atop the strong animal. You feel Midnight's ribs under your legs, wider than Chestnut's. He's a pitch black mare with a coat that currently glistens. He's always been a rather imposing horse, hesitant around new people.  Riding him is like being in a room alone with Joel – intimidating.

"Hold on," Joel instructs before clicking his tongue, encouraging Midnight to start walking. The horse jerks to a start, causing you to dig your legs into Midnight’s side. You’re lucky the horse doesn’t kick you off for it.

You look over your shoulder to see Jennifer on Chestnut a few paces back. You give her a look that shows how displeased you are to be with Joel, replete with an eye roll. She returns it with a weak smile before her focus is back on the trail. Luke is looking off into the surrounding area, his eyes scanning for threats as he sits straight-backed on Glimmer.

You turn back to face ahead of you, displeased.

At first you barely touch Joel, hands resting on your thighs as the four of you bob along the trail. No one is talking now. The air is filled with an unexpected tension that you can’t for the life of you understand.

Your front is pressed against Joel's back, squeezing gently to make sure you don't slide off.  Midnight makes a jostling step off the path before righting himself. It sends you slipping back, your thighs digging into the horse’s side and your hands going to grab Joel lightly by his jacket.

"Unless you wanna fall off I suggest you hold tighter n'that." Joel bites off. 

You know he’s correct. Sitting this awkwardly is only a burden on Midnight. Your arms snake around Joel’s waist and hold there below his sternum. His chest is broad, his arms muscled, his thighs strong. Everything about him is masculine and tough. All but the soft look of his dark brown curls threaded with grey which curl under his ears just slightly.

Despite everything you've experienced with Joel, actually physically touching him is surreal. You know the feel of his cock in your palm and on your tongue, the taste of his come. But now you can explore the rest of his body first with your eyes and then your hands. 

Up this close to Joel you see the freckles on his golden skin and the way he holds himself stiffly straight in front of you. He’s so broad, his entire disposition that of protector. You can understand why Ellie feels safe with him.  

You marvel at the smooth sensation of his jacket under your fingertips, the warmth of his body. This close to Joel you inhale the scent of leather and homemade lavender soap from Hannah's. You could almost laugh that you both use the same scent mostly because Joel Miller smelling like flowers is an amusing thought.

You pass through a different path on your way back as you always do and are irritated with the sight of the overturned trees. The roots are ugly, twisted things that poke out from the light dusting of snow.

“Shit,” Joel mutters to himself.

Midnight rears back sharply and in a panic your arms wrap more tightly around Joel’s waist, suddenly anxious. You're surprised when Joel's left hand goes to cover your grip knotted against his middle, holding you in place.

Joel grunts out a grumbled whoa boy before tugging Midnight’s reigns with his right hand to get him to obey. His hand is big, warming you despite the gloves you both wear.

"Careful," Joel calls over his shoulder to Jennifer and Luke. "Some big roots here." 

The two of them call out that they've heard him. You twist to look over your shoulder and watch them navigate Chestnut and Glimmer over the uprooted tree. Luckily it doesn’t take long before the four of you are back on the path heading home with no more obstacles in the foreseeable future.

You glance behind you to see Jennifer looking miserable on Glimmer. She looks so disappointed and you want to slap Joel upside the head for missing how obviously into him she is. You think of earlier, when Joel observed her skills and an idea comes to you.

“Hey Jennifer?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like your jacket,” you fumble for a way to make this sound natural.

Jennifer shoots you a confused look, curious as to where you’re going with this. “Uh, thanks.”

“Did you get it from town?”

“I made it,” she tells you, the silent you already know that, reflected in her gaze.

“Wow, you’re so gifted. You made those amazing curtains in your place too, right?”

“I did.”

“You’re so good at making stuff,” you gush. “Especially clothes. You make men's clothes too, right Jennifer? Like jackets?"

"Uh yeah," she says slowly before her confusion fades, realizing what you're getting at. She smiles cheekily at you. "Yeah, I can make jackets, jeans, t-shirts, all that stuff." 

“You’re so talented at it,” you gush. Luke is looking over your way and you feel the need to really drive it home. “I mean, with the holidays coming up I might just want to get a dress from you.”

You have never worn a dress in your life. Not unless your mother forced you into them as a child. But you need to sell this idea that Jennifer is a domestic goddess. You’ll leave out the part about her baking.

“I could make us matching ones,” she says with a wink. You hold in a giggle at the thought.

“I’d like to see that,” Luke offers shyly from behind Jennifer who shoots a delighted look in your direction complete with dramatically mouthed ‘he likes you!’. You flush at the attention, your lips pursing into a pleased grin.

You feel Joel's trunk stiffen in your arms and his hand drops from over yours. He replaces it on the reigns. 

"Keep it down," Joel hisses over his shoulder at you and the others. "Unless you were hopin’ to guide  Raiders our way?"

The two of them go quiet and you cringe internally. You don't know why but you suppose it's because Joel is your patrol partner. A reflection on you in some ways and he's coming off like a major asshole right now. Your arms loosen around his middle finding that the horse is now on smoother terrain.

You glance over at Jennifer about to give her a sympathetic look but she shoots you an exaggerated eyebrow waggle and mouths the words "still sexy" with a head tilt at Joel. You barely suppress a surprised giggle, irritating Joel further. 

"What's so fuckin’ funny?"

"Nothing." 

------------------------------------

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