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macfrog · 4 months

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the sweetest con cowboy like me chapter fifteen

well. this is it. we made it, kids. thank you so, so much for reading for all this time. for all your patience, and kindness, and loyalty. i will carry this pair, their story, and all of your love for them with me forever. love you guys. xx

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: every cowboy deserves his ride off into the sunset.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lotsa guilt from reader, dreamy love sequence & mention of unprotected piv/creampie, more greys anatomy spoilers, reader's dad is either Bald or has a Receding Hairline (you choose), more sex - this time reader and joel sixty-nine, face sitting, oral (f and m receiving), more (inferred) unprotected piv, making dirty, hot love ALLAT, cursing, a little smut n a lotta fluff n a droplet of angst at the end

word count: 10.8k

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“How the fuck did this take you three minutes? Three?”

“I’m telling you. I’m a genius.”

You snort. “Shut up. You only passed Math ‘cause you were fooling around with that nerd – Thomas? Was it Thomas?”

“Timothy. And you don’t need math to do a sudoku puzzle, loser. You just need brains. Logic.” Anna taps two fingers against her temple, tilting her head.

“Logic,” you murmur, shaking your head.

Sal’s is quiet today. He’s out of town for his father-in-law’s funeral and made the genius decision to leave the two of you in charge. Since opening at nine, you’ve had four customers. The to-do list left for you was completed by ten, and since then, you’ve been hunched over your phone at the cash register, messing around on some puzzle app Anna made you download.

It's a Wednesday. Nothing exciting ever happens on Wednesdays.

Anna’s behind you, tearing apart and flattening the cardboard boxes you spent all morning emptying. “That level,” she clicks her chewing gum wetly between her teeth, scent of mint over your shoulder, “that ain’t even the hardest one. Ooh, no, babe. Three goes –”

“Shh!” You bat her arm away, curving your hand over your phone screen. She snorts and wanders off through the back, wad of cardboard under her arm.

Anna wasn’t your closest friend in high school, and you sure didn’t stay much in touch past the odd Facebook post update when you left. But working with her, and her dad being your dad’s buddy – she’s sort of become one of those people you just can’t shake.

Like a stray puppy. Or…an annoying hangnail.

She’s nice enough – talks a lot of crap sometimes, but she cares for you. You’d go as far as saying you two have grown pretty close since you came home. Still, the acidic sting of resentment sits on your tongue, anytime you think of her involvement in the unravelling of your little lie. Think of your dad calling hers, Hank asking her where you were.

Think of the fact that, if she hadn’t been honest with him – I don’t know where she is, Dad – nothing would’ve gone wrong.

That’s not fair. If you’d never touched Joel in the first place, nothing would’ve gone wrong.

It’s just – she had a hand in pushing the first domino.

The bell above the door jingles and you lift your eyes from tiny numbers and blank squares to meet a familiar pair of hazel. An Alanis Morissette T-shirt under a denim jacket. She tucks her thick, soft hair behind her ears and smiles, then skips around the counter and links her hands at your tummy; her ear flat against the nape of your neck.

“Why so clingy?” you ask, and Sarah straightens up.

“Just excited to spend some time with my favorite person. That allowed?”

Your eyes scan her up and down as she leans against the counter, stealing a gummy from a jar beside the register. “Been staying with you for nearly three weeks now, you ain’t sick of me yet?”

She shakes her head, jaw chewing, cheeks swollen with a grin. “Are you done yet? I wanna make sure we get good seats.”

“We will,” you assure her. “It’s only, like, three p.m.”

“But it’s Barbie,” she says, “and I wanna get some snacks before we head in.” She holds the decapitated gummy worm up, eyebrows high, before pulling it between her teeth until it snaps. She drags the withered red tail over her tongue.

“That thing you just mauled,” you gesture to the masticated shape in her fingers, “candy. Snacks. Just take some of that.”

“You won’t even buy your date movie theater candy? Damn. Mom’s a cheapskate. Wish I could say my dad’s a lucky guy.”

You shove her off, disguising your laugh with a shake of your head. “You are on thin ice, I’m not even kidding.”

Sarah’s laughing, reaching for another worm. “You know what that sounds like?”

“Hm?”

“What you just said.”

“What’s it sound like, Sarah Miller?”

“Something a mom would say.”

“Alright,” you stand, “get out. Get outta my store.”

The door opens when you point to it, Texan heat sweeping in to swarm the one rickety fan you have in here. The brass bell trembles, and beneath it, a man in a tucked shirt and jeans, glum face and tired eyes.

You blink at him and he blinks back, and no words are spoken between you, but your dad understands to move, to keep walking – and you understand to let him.

“Shoot,” Sarah whispers, twisting her gummy around her finger. “That was awkward.”

Three weeks of staying with them – Sarah and Joel – also means three weeks of zero contact with your dad. The most you’ve heard from – or, rather, about him is that, last week, Joel bumped into Hank at the gas station, and the old man mentioned that he and your dad had grabbed a beer the night before.

What’d he say? you asked Joel, dragging a dish towel around the rim of a glass.

He shrugged, flicking his hands dry over the sink. Said the Rangers aren’t doin’ too good. I said, Yeah, that’s cause a’ –

No, Joel. What did he say about me ‘n my dad?

He waited a second to let the offense of your interruption soak in. Took the towel from your hand, replaced the glass on the draining board. Nothing, he said, I don’t think he knows.

It sat with you the entire night. The three of you watched a movie, occupying either side of Joel’s couch, though you’re sure you don’t remember a word of it. The image of him sat center-stage in your mind until you pulled yourself against Joel’s body in bed that night. Sat in his recliner, flicking through TV channels, the only sounds in the house that of Ice Road Truckers, the ticking of the kitchen clock, and his own fucking breathing.

Alone. Not even Hank to talk to about – well.

You’ve done your best not to think about him. And it works, most days, when you’re with Joel. Helps to go do stuff: ride shotgun while he picks up supplies for work or grabs groceries. Helps to play pretend like his house is yours, too. Tidying when he’s not home, lighting candles and sinking into a bubble bath for him to find you in when he finishes. Helps to be at Sal’s, with Anna. Sudoku and her fucking Tinder account to keep you both occupied.

Most days, you forget to consider the lonely shape of your dad at all – but that seems to hurt all the more. Like forgetting to tend to an open wound; instead, letting the infection blister and bubble so that, when you do bump it again, the pain feels sharper. Hissing at you, poison seeping from flesh.

His showing up, waltzing straight into the store – feels less like a bump, and more like a pair of hands diving straight into the gash, tearing it wide open again. Blood and poison gushing all over the checkered floor.

Anna materializes between two aisles, hands on her hips when she stands behind you. “Y’all still not really talkin’?” she asks.

You and Sarah shake your heads. The three of you watch the shape of your dad’s skull over the shelves, bobbing from bay to bay. Door hinges to fence paint. He painted the fence last summer. He doesn’t need fucking fence paint.

“Nope,” you reply. “’s been, what, two and a half weeks now?”

“Yeah,” Anna mutters, the slope of sympathy in her voice. “My dad’s been talkin’ to him about it. They’ve spoken, like, almost every night on the phone.”

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, head falling into your hands. “Are you serious?”

“Not about you and Joel. Just about the fight.”

Your jaw slowly slackens, eyes thinning as your gaze slides over to your friend, a saddened expression on her face.

Sarah nods, like an accessory sat on the dash of a car. Bobbing bobbing bobbing, until her brows drop and she turns to you, finally realizing. “Wait, what?”

Anna blinks between the two of you. “What?” she asks, lips pressing together.

“You know?” Sarah asks, glaring at her.

Anna snorts. Neither of you break. She quickly quietens and clears her throat, bending to stuff more cardboard under her arm. “Well…” She sucks in a deep breath. “At rodeo night, when you left your phone on the table, me ‘n Kara wanted to leave a bunch of selfies for you to find later. But when I went to grab your phone, you had a text from him. Joel. Something about someone winning you over like he did, or something. I can’t remember. But that was the first thing.”

Sarah’s face sours at the mention of her dad’s flirty text, scoffing as she swipes another gummy from the jar. “Real fuckin’ subtle, Dad,” she murmurs.

You sharpen your gaze at Anna, blurring the brown curls and low brows from your peripheral. “Uhuh…?”

“Then, there was the lying to your dad about where you were. That Monday – you said you were at mine. You weren’t. Your dad called my dad to ask, ‘n my dad asked me why the hell you’d lie. I figured, What a weird coincidence, right?”

You slip off your stool, legs feeling more liquid than bone. “Oh, Jesus…”

“But then…then, I saw how you were when he called on the way to Frank’s. In the car. You were…fucking weird. And then Joel punched that dude – that basically confirmed it. I don’t think either of your dads would do that for me. It felt…it felt personal. He took your hand ‘n dragged you outta there, and it felt like…somethin’ else.”

You’re leaning against the counter, head in your hands. Struggling to even listen to her piece it all together. Were you this fucking obvious, the whole time?

Anna answers for you. “Yeah,” she says, nodding, “I didn’t catch two fucking boyfriends cheating on me, and not pick up some detective skills, babe.”

You stand straight, composure slowly building over shame. “And your dad doesn’t know? My –” you flick your head across the store, lowering your voice, “– my dad hasn’t told him?”

A laugh spurts from somewhere deep in her chest. “Hell, no. Are you tryna give him a second heart attack? No. He just thinks you were somewhere you didn’t want your dad to know – a boy’s or something. Which – well, I guess you were.”

You nod, half-appreciation, half-resignation. Alright. Now shut up about it, would you?

“But listen,” Anna says, apparently not as good at mindreading as she is at secret-revealing, “y’all gotta work on being sneaky. You’re, like, really bad at it.”

“Yeah,” you sniff, “thanks, Anna.”

You grip the edge of the counter and try to draw your eye away from your dad; a little angry that he’s here, and yet, a little more thankful that you’ve had at least a tiny glimpse of him. Desperate for him to come over, to acknowledge your mutual existence in the same room, and yet – petrified that he does.

He keeps his back to you, though you notice him turning every so often, looking at you from his peripheral. Nope – your black shirt and blue jeans are still behind the counter. He turns back to the shelf.

“Hi, sweetie.” A woman in a pink blouse approaches the counter. She lays down a couple pairs of plyers and you ring her up, asking if she found everything okay. Choking a little when you inhale the scent of her perfume.

“Beautiful day for you to be in here workin’, huh?” Her rosy cheeks fill as she hands you the cash.

Oh, yeah. It’s a beautiful day to be stuck selling plyers to pink women in pink blouses smelling of pink perfume, while my dad – still reeling from the revelation that I’ve been sleeping with his best friend, by the way – pretends to peruse the store.

“I’m almost done,” you reply, blunt enough to deflate her expression only a little, sliding the paper bag stamped Sal’s back across the counter.

She nods in thanks and slinks off, suffocating aroma following her. And like a magician, when she disappears off to the side, your dad stands in her wake. A few feet from you, keeping his distance, watching carefully before he dares to move. Waiting for your go-ahead.

When you lift your chin, beckoning him forward, Anna takes Sarah’s arm and yanks her away, shoving some shredded boxes into her arms. “You wanna help me?” she asks the nosy Miller, tossing something of an alarmed glance back at you and your dad.

There’s a funny feeling behind your eyes when he steps up, empty hand resting hesitantly on the counter. “She coverin’ up the smell of a dead body or som’?” he asks.

The air pushes from your lungs, a laugh barreling with it. Your hands clasp on the surface opposite his. A scorch of white heat at the nape of your neck. “Very vibrant, huh?”

“Very.” He clears his throat, shakes his head a little, and takes a deep breath. “I figured this might be as good a place as any to find you. I didn’t want you to think I was…cornering you, or anything, if I showed up at Joel’s.”

“I wouldn’t – I mean, maybe. But, y’know…this is fine.” Your arms cross defensively, the baggy material of Joel’s shirt wrapping snug around you.

Your dad seems to know. Evidence being that it’s you, in a shirt all too big – a shirt he’d likely see his best friend in, too. It forces your arms tighter, sucking in the scent of Joel to combat the dizzying feeling of nerves.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he says eventually, fingers drumming awkwardly. “I just wanted to know you were fine.”

“I am fine. I promise. Just – working a lot.”

He nods, looking down to his feet. Twists the toe of his boot into the linoleum.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, too,” you offer, the words fluid and spilling from one to the next – something forceful in their nature.

Your dad’s eyes lift at the same time that his cheeks do. Relief. “Thanks, kiddo. I actually – I was hopin’ that maybe we could talk. If you’re free. I don’t know what time you get off today.”

“I finish in ten minutes,” you say, and hope seems to paint across his face – washing away instantly when you add, “but I’m going to the movies with Sarah.”

He’s nodding again, eyes fixed back on his boots. “Right, right.”

“…But maybe once we’re done I can swing by?”

“Oh, well – I’m workin’ late again. I’ll be out by the time…Yeah. Sorry, hon.”

“That’s okay.”

“Late one again tonight.”

“This, uh – what’s his name again? Kel–?”

“Kelman, yeah. Yeah. How ‘bout I call you tomorrow ‘n we can work somethin’ out? You and Sarah, you enjoy your night.”

You lean back from the counter, slowly more confident in your ability to hold yourself upright. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

His lips press together in a flat attempt at a smile. “I’ll leave you to it. You mind if I…give you a hug?”

And then you’re the one awkwardly, forcedly smiling. Your teeth gritting behind taut lips. “Not at all,” you whisper, and wander carefully around the counter to where he stands.

He opens his arms and pulls you against his chest, your head tilting to rest your ear on his shoulder. You hook your arms under his, feeling his wrists crossing at your spine. Like two statues, two figures of stone fixing their crumbling bodies in an embrace, suddenly disjointed and ill-fitting. Your heart hurts beneath layers of rock, swelling in attempt to reach for his, shrinking back crestfallen when he feels too far.

He kisses the side of your head, pulls away, and taps your cheek once. “You know,” he says, letting you withdraw from his grasp, “I really miss you.”

You nod. “Miss you, too.”

“Let’s talk soon, alright?”

“Yeah.”

And then he’s leaving, drifting back out into the summer sun, rock disintegrating as the light catches him again. More human, less monster-under-your-bed. He’s just your dad again, just that swaying, bumbling man who used to sprinkle rainbow flakes over your ice cream and double-knot your laces.

The shadows of Sarah and Anna appear at your elbows, the three of you watching your dad sink into his car. You still feel made of rock, splitting somewhere down the middle as you stare at his figure.

“Well?” Sarah asks.

He turns right out of the parking lot, disappears behind a hedgerow.

“Yeah,” you reply, turning in a daze. “We’re gonna…gonna talk.”

“That’s good, right? That sounds…promising.”

You shrug. “I guess.”

Sarah places a gentle hand on your arm, drawing your attention to her kind eyes and infectious smile. “We should probably get goin’,” she says, and you agree.

“What movie are you seeing?” Anna asks, filling your spot behind the counter as you turn, making for the back of the store.

“Barbie,” Sarah tells her.

“Nice. She paying?”

“Obviously. Mom duties.”

You kick the door closed on their giggles.

Two days pass without a word from your dad. No text, no call, no visit to Sal’s when you’re on shift the following day. By Monday, you’ve convinced yourself that the entire thing was a dream, a hallucination conjured up by your imagination in attempt to rid you of some of the guilt still chewing at your heart. Bat it out of your brain, like swatting the rear end of a wild animal let loose indoors.

Guilt which is only remedied, only soothed by Joel. By the feeling which overcomes your chest when you look at him – lungs faltering, heart leaping. The peace of falling asleep in his safe embrace, the heat from his body enough to keep you comfortable all night, and then waking up tangled in his sheets – the smell of bacon and eggs twirling through the house, the distant sound of his humming drawing you downstairs to his side.

Late nights on the porch, watching the sun bleed heavily into the sky. Your ankles in his lap, a guitar over his thigh. Thumb gentle on the strings, soft timbre of song lulling you to some place far from reality: the same rosy, dreamlike state you’ve mostly occupied since he dragged you through his front door, kicked your shoes and all of your worries to the side, and made you forget that anything bad had ever happened.

The most comfortable you’ve ever felt in your life, the most loved – a world where your every word is heard and weighed, rolling around Joel’s palms and slotting carefully into his back pocket. A world where his lips on your neck as you make dinner, where the crook of his arm catching you as you pass by, is all normal. Where I love you and I love you, too become the last words your sleepy ears hear at night, right before you sink into a shared sleep.

All of it becoming as natural as the pale moon switching for her golden sister at dawn. As instinctive as breathing.

“Have you ever made love to anyone?” you ask him one night, the aftershock of an orgasm still soaking into your skin.

Joel pauses, hips slowing between yours. “Yeah,” after a couple beats, “sure.”

“What’s it feel like?” you ask, honestly. Combing his dark hair through your fingers. “I’ve never…No one’s ever…”

“Baby,” he says. “We’ve done it. I’ve done it to you.”

Your body tenses and then melts around him. One blink and suddenly the world softens, seems to bow into the background – the only sharp object Joel, the twinkle in his eye piercing through the haze like blinking white stars in thick, dark clouds.

You whisper, “Can you do it again? So I can feel what it’s like?”

He pushes himself up, one elbow planted by your ear, the other hand lifting your thigh. Hooking it over his waist, lowering his arm again to cage you under his body. He nudges your chin with his nose, lifting it to line your lips with his, hold every part of your body as close to his as he can.

Deeper, in every sense of the word. Slow, hard. Eyes on you the entire time, watching the way your face contorts and your jaw slackens, holding the shape of your head in his hands, swallowing his own moans and grunts to make space between you for yours.

“Look at me, baby, eyes on me,” he says, and by instinct, your eyes roll forward, focusing or half-focusing on the slick hair at his forehead, the red flush climbing his neck, seeping into the skin under his beard. “You feel it? Feel where I’m goin’?”

And yeah, you whine, you do feel it. Feel him dragging you further away from this world and into the next – somewhere a plain away, somewhere new and different to anything you’ve ever known before. Where physicality is a language, a fluid conversation between the melding of his body and yours; where there are a million words swirling around his pupils, hypnotizing and entrancing and drawing you in until you’re tumbling headfirst into the inky pools.

Where I love you sounds like the groan Joel can’t hold back, feels like the pulsing flood as he snaps between your legs. Where making love is as simple as the squeeze of his hand around yours; the shove of his plate over the kitchen table, offering you the last bite of grilled cheese or simply admitting that it was yours before he’d even taken the first. That addictive laugh of his when you stall the fucking truck for the fifth time: You asked me to teach you, baby, I’m tryna teach you. Foot on the gas, c’mon. You got it. That’s it – now, slow. Slower. Try to feel it. No, really feel it.

Feel it. Really, try to feel it. Can you feel it? Do you know the difference yet? The difference between everyone who was before, and the one who is now? Do you finally get it?

“I feel it,” you cry out, and his frame holds yours together as you fall apart.

It feels like – you.

How did I ever know anything before I knew you?

“That one’s nice,” Joel says, his voice jumping the short distance between his lips and your ear.

You tilt your head, body moving with his when he lifts his hand to swipe through some more of the images. The spacious living room, newly refurbed kitchen, the view of downtown Los Angeles.

He adjusts the blanket draped over your legs. “Washer dryer, walk-in closet,” and then, leaning in closer, whispers, “a balcony. That’s cool.”

“Hm,” you turn to face him, your body shelled by his in the corner of his couch, “I bet you like the balcony, cowboy.”

He smiles plainly in response, squeezing your nose between two knuckles. Yeah. Lots you can do with a balcony.

A sharp gasp from across the room pierces the sweet moment. You and Joel turn in its direction, its owner wide-eyed and blinking at the TV.

“Wait a second,” Sarah yelps. “George is the John Doe?” She gasps again when Meredith announces the same news to her friends onscreen. “Shut – the fuck – up!”

“Language,” Joel clips, chest rumbling between your shoulder blades.

“Oh, like you didn’t have the exact same reaction. George is the…Oh, that sucks. Are you kidding me?” She fishes her phone from the waves of blanket surrounding her, thumbs rapidly typing, eyes shooting from screen to screen.

You snort, turning back to your own phone in your hand, when a text appears at the top of the screen.

Dad: Hey kiddo. Sorry to keep you waiting, work been hectic. Off the rest of today if you’re free to come over.

Your thumb latches onto the message, holding it for Joel to read, too, before letting it disappear off into your notifications.

He tightens his hold on you, burying his nose into the cotton of his own hoodie over your shoulders. His breath pushes heavy and thoughtful across the material. “Still seems as calm as the other day.”

“Too calm,” you admit, “it’s freaking me out.”

“What can he do, you know? You’re here, he’s there. Your dad ain’t an idiot, baby. He knows stayin’ angry about it’s only gonna push you further away.”

“Sure made ‘im feel like an idiot…”

Joel catches the comment and pockets it before it gathers enough weight to bruise. “Well,” he clears his throat, “it’s up to you. I ain’t letting you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Mhm,” you reply, and wait for more words to fall to your tongue. An answer, a response. A decision that you know you don’t feel equipped or even rightful to make.

“Do you want to go talk to him?” Joel asks.

“I…I want to make things right. I wanna fix it.”

“Okay. And will talking to him do that?”

You turn to face him, frowning. “I don’t fucking know,” you mutter. “Will it?”

He smiles sympathetically. “Wish I knew, darlin’. Would it help if I came? Sat outside in the truck, waited for you? It gets too much, you decide you wanna leave – we leave.”

“You ain’t scared to be near him again?”

He gulps back a laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing awkwardly before he allows himself to answer. “Only thing scary about your dad is the sunlight reflectin’ off his damn head. No, I ain’t scared.”

You study him a minute longer, eyes roaming from the lips you could sketch every score of from memory, the beard you’re sure has forever altered your prints from the number of times you’ve run your fingers over the bristles. The eyes which know every secret, every whisper, every thought behind your own.

You sigh, smiling dumbly as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Joel pulls up by the curb, parking politely at the end of your driveway rather than alongside your dad’s car, like he usually would. Like he used to.

You crane your head, looking past the shape of him to survey the unassuming house. Quiet, still. No sign of hurricane or earthquake, no tremors of rage or words like rocks raining down on the truck roof. Your thumb plunges into the buckle of your seatbelt, the webbing whipping over your shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay?” Joel asks, watching your fingers lift to the door handle.

“Mhm,” you reply, distant. “’s just my dad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

His eyebrows lift, agreeing. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his lips. “Whatever it is,” he mumbles into your fingers, “if it happens, you come straight back out here, you hear? I ain’t moving.”

The urge to stay exactly where you are and let him carry you off back to his place overwhelms you for a brief second. To stay in the safety of the truck cabin, stay within touching distance of Joel. And as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. Overcome by the memory of that stony hug in Sal’s, the vacant, lonely eyes boring into late-night TV.

A sharp chap over your shoulder shocks you back to life. You twist in your seat, looking down at a face wrinkled by curiosity and wisdom, sheen of lipstick curved in a mischievous grin. You roll the window down, mirroring her smile.

“Joel Miller,” Rita calls, lowering her ring-adorned fist and pointing over to her car. “Help me with these groceries.”

“Afternoon to you, too, Rita,” he calls back, and she raises two thin, penciled eyebrows. His sigh trickles into a chuckle as he snaps the door open, leaning into you. “I ain’t moving,” he mutters, swinging out of the truck.

“Sure looks like you’re movin’,” you call back, letting Rita pull on your door to let you out.

“How are you, darlin’?” she asks. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

You hop down beside her, helping her tug the shawl around her arms back over her shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve, uh…I’ve been busy.”

She nods, and then her eyes drift to somewhere behind you. “They go in the kitchen, son.” She points to her house. “I’ll come help you unpack ‘em.”

Joel’s face twists, eyes wide, hands outstretched. You swallow back a laugh when he looks to you, an almost teenage expression which asks, You seein’ this? as he turns back to the Nissan.

“I better go,” Rita says then, giving your arms one last squeeze. “You take care, now. Tell your dad I’m askin’ after ‘im.”

“I will, Rita.” You turn on your heel and saunter around Joel’s truck, giving him one last twirl as he hoists two bags under his muscled arms, rolling his eyes as you spin.

You pull the weight of yourself up your drive, passing past versions of yourself as you near the front door. She’s stumbling towards her dad’s car, a bucket of soapy water sloshing around between her knees. She’s sat on the curb, waiting for Joel’s truck to roll up, praying she never hears another Marty Robbins song again.

She’s naïve, still. Knows no better, knows no worse. Chasing a high, chasing the thrill of being caught and the thrill of nobody ever knowing. A relationship built entirely on lies and deceit. A love woven with dark threads of shame and anger, a tattered mess in one corner where the edges fray and loosen.

And you think: you’ve never felt more jealous of anybody your whole life.

The front door clicks open easily, like the building welcomes you home with a relieved sigh. You follow sunlight into the hallway, feeling it easier to walk through than before – less dense, less suffocating. Less guilty. An honest thief, back to return the bleeding heart she dragged out the door with her.

Secrets like shards of broken glass on the floor, debris from that day. And as if he hears the crunch of your footsteps, your dad appears at the bottom of the hall.

“Hi, hon.”

Eyes wide with a misplaced shock, you say, “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“’m good.”

“Good. Come in, come through.” He beckons you forward, a smile only half-forced on his lips. “You want a drink or anything?”

You follow him into the kitchen, politely accepting a glass of water when he offers it.

He turns with two steady palms on the island, watching as you drag a chair free and sit at the table. “How’s Joel?” he asks, swallowing roughly.

The words come delayed, your open mouth lying in wait. Your body selfishly trying to hoard the information, protective the second the image of that six-foot, two-hundred-pound man crosses your mind. “He’s fine. He’s out front.”

It sounds like a warning, though you don’t mean for it to. Just conversation. He’s helping Rita with her groceries. She’s asking after you, by the way. But your dad seems to sense the natural amber tone of it – the sparking of a flame, daring to catch. He’s waiting for this to go south.

He nods, accepting the fact of it. His own failed attempt to separate the two of you only drove you closer together. Only made you want Joel more.

But then he’s nearing you again, pulling out the chair opposite yours. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, settling with a sigh. “Glad we’re…we’re talkin’ again, at least.”

Your head angles. “Are we?”

His body jerks, flinching from the sting of the question. “Well,” his head wobbles, jowls quivering, “I sure hope so. I was takin’ it as a good sign that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you repeat, “but that doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

“No, I know. I know. Joel’s out front, ‘n all that.” He looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Holds his tongue behind his front teeth, waiting for the next turn of conversation.

You lean forward, elbows on the table, softening your voice. “Dad?” you say, and he looks up. “This whole entire thing – I think…I think we oughta try and understand each other, a little better. Hear each other out.”

“I am tryin’, hon. I’m really tryin’. You dealt me an awful lot to hear out ‘n understand.”

You rock back, sinking against the hard chair. Tracing the wood grains in the table, nails digging between. Shame coiling like a snake beneath your tongue, taking up too much space in your mouth. Its venom dripping between your teeth, acrid and sour; tendons in your neck jumping with the bitterness of your dad’s tone.

He sighs. “Be honest with me a second.”

“Huh?”

He waits a beat, watching you carefully. Opens his mouth, pauses, and then speaks. “Who instigated it?”

Your finger pushes harder into the surface. Digging new divots. “Um…kinda both of us. Was sort of a two-way thing from the get-go.”

His lips twist, almost imperceptible. He looks behind you to the patio outside. You can’t read what’s in his eyes. It makes you say more, say things you reckon you’ll regret later – but something to fill the silence between you. Something to let him sink his teeth into.

“There was flirting. Lotta flirting. And then it…it just sort of snowballed.”

“Snowballed.” He looks uncomfortable, lifting his hands to cup over his face. “I just didn’t take him as the type,” he says, muffled into his palms.

“As what type?”

He drops his hands, hitting his thighs with a slap, and looks you dead in the eye. Sad, almost. “Arthur Kennedy type.”

“He’s not.”

You say it instinctively. Your ears hear it at the same time your dad does. He looks at you blankly.

“He’s not,” you repeat, a little looser. Less hasty. “Look,” you sigh, “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but…everything that we ever did, I wanted to do. I already told you. There ain’t nothing we did that I didn’t ask him to. I swear to you.”

You think back to the cookout, how angry Joel was at the thought of Arthur Kennedy hanging over you. How pissed he’d be, hearing your dad line him up against that old leather boot of a man. Comparing, contrasting. Here’s how you measure up, son. How much of a phantom Arthur Kennedy has been, your whole life, and how much of a sanctuary Joel is in comparison.

Your stomach twists at the thought. A tight knot, wound by a desperation to clear the name of a man whose worst offense was doing exactly what your dad would’ve told him to: leave.

“This whole thing,” you go on, “it’s a mess, alright? It’s – totally fucked. And we shouldn’t’ve lied, shouldn’t’ve been keeping things from you, but then…what did you expect?”

Your dad cuts in like a bullet: “I expect the two of you not to do what you were doin’.”

“No, I know that. But we did it, right? It’s done now. I meant, did you really want us to sit you down in the living room ‘n say, Hey, Dad – guess what?”

He grimaces at the thought.

“Didn’t think so. We didn’t even know what it was. We had no idea what it’d turn into. But you gotta hear me out: it wasn’t just…some fling, or whatever you’re thinkin’. I swear, Dad, it wasn’t.”

He still doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t lift his stare from the table. You feel like a little kid, desperate to make him love you again. Desperate to make him listen. The space between you fills with the bored tick tick tick of the kitchen clock. Each second hurting a little more than the last.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I let you down, but…I’m not sorry that I did it. If I could go back, knowing everything I know – I’d do it all over again.”

The words roll across the table to him like billiards. You lean back again, watching them as they rattle from his side to yours – your sentence delivered back into your ears. You nod, a sure thought in your mind.

I’d do it all over again. All the covering, all the hiding. The aching, the wishing and wanting. Staring at Joel’s empty hand, dying to slot yours into it. Dying to put any part of yourself near him; your head under his chin, your arms linked around his waist. Knowing you two would feel, knowing everyone else would see, just how perfectly you fit together.

The chasing your own tails: Did you lie well enough? Do they suspect anything? Did we leave any evidence? Disturbed sheets, a collar still upturned. Can they hear us? Have they noticed we’re missing? We’re always fucking missing.

You’d do it all over again. You know what it cost, now, sat directly opposite the price. His polite smiles like veneers over rotten teeth. The tremble in his lip when he opens his mouth to speak.

And it was worth it. Joel. He was worth it all, in the end.

All over again.

“Do you know that every time I look at you, there are…probably four versions that I see?”

You frown. Did he hear what you just said? All ov–? “What?”

Your dad laughs to himself. “When you walk outta that door, I see a little pink backpack over your shoulders. Gym bag in your hand, maybe. I see missin’ front teeth, I see those little clip-on earrings you used to love so much.

“And – and when you’re mad at me, when we fight, I see you at fourteen. Growing pains, y’know? I still remember you slamming your bedroom door in my face, all ‘cause I wouldn’t let you go to that girl Molly’s birthday party.” He looks up, smiling at your perplexed expression.

“I don’t even…remember that, hardly.”

“Long time ago now. My point is,” he continues, “you’re twenty-three. You’re grown. And I just can’t figure out how to make those other versions…grow with you. You still feel like my kid. Still that little girl with the pink backpack.”

“But,” you clear your throat, trying to swipe her from your own memory, “I’m not. I’m not her anymore, Dad. And I think maybe you gotta give me the space to be someone different, now.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, nodding. “I know, I know. I just didn’t think this new version of you would…y’know. Be with Joel, ‘n all. That is something I did not see comin’.”

“You think I did?” You spit a laugh. “If you told me when I came home that this is what was waiting for me…that I was gonna fall…”

Your teeth close around the sentence, dropping your dad’s eye. But it’s too late.

He stares back at you like the sun. “…Fall in love with ‘im?”

And you cower. You wince, almost. The last secret. The last thing he doesn’t know. “I don’t…I don’t know, I –”

“You love him. You do, don’t you?”

Your thumbs run circles around one another, fingers locking until your knuckles hurt. “I don’t know,” you mumble, wishing for the tenth time since you sat down that Joel was beside you, in front of you, around you.

“’s what Anna seems to reckon.”

Your eyes flit up. “Anna?”

He hums. “She is her father’s daughter. A damn meddler. She called here, last night.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you groan, head falling into your hands. “Ignore her, please. Ignore all of it. She doesn’t –”

He holds a palm up. “Now, hold on. You don’t even know what it was she said.”

You huff a sigh, twisting your hand in the air. Go on.

“She reckons you do love him. Reckons he loves you back. More, if that’s even possible, she said. Told me all about the way he stepped in front a’ that boy at Frank’s. About your face when he picked you up from rodeo night, how ecstatic you were. The difference she sees in you.”

“Difference,” you scoff, glancing out to the backyard. “What difference?”

“Same difference I see, probably. Same difference Bill said he saw, too: you’re happier. Even I can’t deny it, hon. It’s damn hard – you never make nothin’ easy on your old man – but…but I am willing to try.”

The hurt begins to slowly fizzle away. Cooling, washing from your skin like foamy waves. Curiosity left to shine through.

“You may not understand this ‘til you have kids of your own – if you have kids of your own – but there ain’t a thing in this world that I love more than I love you. And when you love somethin’ that much, you’ll do anything to stop it from getting hurt. Anything. That’s all I want you to know.”

A silence falls between you, thoughtful and waiting. The clock’s ticking grows sharper again. It seems to consider the same as you: there should be more to this. More to be said, to be convinced. More yelling, even.

But you arrive at the same conclusion, at near enough the same time: there is nothing more. Cards flat on the table, eyes pouring all over them. To question it, to second-guess any of it, would be to tempt fate.

“Anyway,” your dad sits forward, clasping his hands on the table, “tell me what’s goin’ on. What’s been happening in your world?”

You shrug. A little, shy thing. “Work. Been hanging with Sarah a lot. And I, uh, I had a job interview last week.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

You shift awkwardly in your chair. “For, uh…that one in LA. They called to offer it a couple days ago.”

A smile pulls across his lips. Growing, growing, growing until he’s grinning back at you. Pride, little bit of surprise. Whole lot of amusement and joy. “You take it?” he asks, figuring he knows the answer already.

“Not yet,” you reply. “Think I’m going to, though. ‘s too good to say no.”

He lifts his eyebrows in agreement, looking down at his hands. Shoulders lurch some under the weight of your news. “There goes that little backpack,” he mutters to himself, and you smirk.

“Can’t hold her back forever.”

“I never had a hold on her in the first place. You were walkin’ on outta that door the minute you found your own two feet.”

You snort. “Good! Good for me. Let me go out into the big ol’ world; let me go fuck it all up ‘n come home for dinner once I’m done.”

“I intend to,” your dad says, nodding along to every passionate word you say. And then he asks, “How’s Joel feelin’ about it all? About LA?”

Your shoulder jerks in a half-shrug. “He’s fine, I guess. Says he’ll miss me, but then – we haven’t exactly had the most typical relationship up until now. Survived a lot I reckon would break any normal couple…”

It’s the first time you think you’ve ever said it. Couple. You’ve thought of it – flicked through the words you might use to describe him. Your boyfriend, your partner. None of them seem to fit exactly who he is to you. None of them strong enough to carry the weight of what’s shared between you. He’s Joel. He’s your Joel. Nothing will ever come close.

Your dad hears it, too. The newness of it. The crisp shape of the word, not yet thawed to this new world. Your tongue still learning how to pronounce it, how to pair it with the image of Joel.

“Guess he can fly out ‘n visit whenever, right?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, “and I’ll be back here, too. Christmas ‘n all.”

Your dad smiles. Relieved, assured. Light slowly returning to his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” your chest swells, “so Joel says. I trust ‘im.”

You both quieten, sitting back in your chairs. What once felt like a room ablaze, flames tearing the skin from your body as you dragged your heels through it – now feels like a gentle warmth. Waves wrought with enough power and force to destroy you, now seeping off with the change of the tide. Bumps on the horizon.

“Speaking of,” you say, making to stand, “I should probably get goin’.”

“Yeah. Yeah, hon.” Your dad follows, arm on your shoulder as he walks you down the hall.

The sun intrudes, tosses herself into your arms as you pull the front door open. In her golden-rayed wake sits that dark truck, same as always. The same dark tee, the same dark-speckled-gray hair. Arms folded, stood against the body, waiting. Eyes on the house, on your figure as you step down onto the doormat. Joel straightens when your dad follows you out, chest sucking in a ragged breath.

They look at one another, and that’s about it. Something of a nod from Joel – not quite returned by your dad. You figure that might take some time to come back around. And that’s okay. You can make peace with it.

You turn back. Your dad’s looking down at you, hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

“You know,” you take a deep breath, “the only times he’s ever hurt me, are the times he’s left. The times I haven’t had him around.”

And then you step back, the magnet in your chest telling you it’s time to return to its partner.

In high school, your English teacher tasked the class with writing a short story. Any genre you wanted, any word count up to two thousand. The boys mostly dicked around, wrote action-packed, blood-and-guts garbage. One girl wrote something you’re sure you’d seen in a Hallmark movie before.

But you – you spent two weeks straight, writing. Awake until all hours of the night, hunched over your laptop, sunbathing in the blue hue of an open document. Fingers hammering rapidly into your keyboard.

A man and a woman meet in Central Park. She – hair the color of rust, spilling down her shoulders and lifting at the ends, twisting around the fingers of the blustery wind. A red glow around her third finger where gold once lived. Sat on a bench, alone. Hiding, perhaps. And he – sharp suit and tie, clean-shaven, a steel-blue gaze that might cut glass. Missing the city traffic by taking a walk through the park on his way home. Fleeing, perhaps.

He notices her trench coat first. Bright red, a poppy swaying in the breeze. A little hopeless, a solemn wilt to it. The quickly dampening fire of her hair in the rain, the opaque sheen of polish chipping from her nails. And he thinks he recognizes the constellation of freckles painted across her cheeks. Thinks he might’ve mapped them, once, in some kind of past-life.

She looks up and realizes she recognizes the cut of his gaze. Piercing through her, splitting her in two. Thinks she might’ve felt it before, the opening of her soul to someone who looked just like him – a little more baby-faced, a little more spirited. In some kind of past-life, too.

She stands, and he slows, and they meet somewhere in the middle. Words exchanged; body heat transferred through hugs. Is that really you? You look so different. It’s been years. He doesn’t ask about the lack of jewelry on her third finger. She doesn’t ask about the gray circles beneath his eyes. Just, You wanna grab a coffee? and, Yeah. Yeah, I do.

They sit at the window, watch the yellow taxis and the black umbrellas and the trembling traffic lights. They talk about life then, life now, and silently agree to forget about the part in the middle. They look at each other the same way they must have before they lost one another, before life and love and everything else got between them.

They agree to meet again in a week. They swear that they will not fall back in love.

They know as well as each other that they’re really promising to do just that.

Love – twisted and turned over and over, until it’s a different shape altogether. We started as one thing, and we watched it shift into something completely different. Clay in the potter’s hands. Didn’t you think it might fall apart? There was a moment I thought the heat of the kiln might break us. I’m glad it didn’t. I’m glad we’re made of tough stuff.

I’m glad I found you again, in that park. The pissing rain and the wind so strong I felt it lifting the sense from my mind. In that hardware store, in that bar filled with weed and bad intentions. I’m glad you split me open, glad you could see the good that was still inside. I thought I’d lost her for a minute. Thought she’d forgotten her way home.

Let’s go get a coffee. Let’s pretend it’s always been this way.

Let’s fall in love. The rest will take care of itself.

It takes three weeks in total to properly pack up your things. Two days after you accepted the job, you bought boxes and tape, and began to dismantle the identity you’d spent twenty-three years creating for yourself, a little bit at a time. Taking apart the pink-walled museum of your life, artefact by artefact.

Joel has helped as much as you’ve let him. Laid back on your bed when you’ve dismissed him one too many times, raised his eyebrows and laughed with you whenever you come across some old, forgotten piece of memorabilia. Something ceremonial to it, something innocent and fun. Like a little graduation for all the parts of yourself.

Soon, as the last of the summer sun dampens outside, your room lies vacant. Empty of any real evidence of your being here. Bedsheets and pillows folded, packed away; framed photos and posters unpinned from the wall and wrapped up safely. Drawers and closets barren, left with a selection of your less-loved, less-worn clothes. A wardrobe built from stuff you’ll only ever wear when you come back home to visit, if even then.

Joel’s sat on the bare mattress, looking around your room. You’re stood opposite, leaning against your half-empty dresser. The sun filters feebly through your turned shades, averting her eyes.

You look over at him. Golden, like the sunlight outside. Warm, like the breeze through the trees. Yours. Yours yours yours.

“What?” Joel asks, his eyes having finally found their way back to you. He smiles at your focused expression.

“Nothing. I don’t know. Just…”

“Talk to me. Tell me.”

“You are – this is…” You sigh. “This is good. I think it’s good. Not just all the stuff we did. But you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “You’re good for me.” You grip the wooden lip tighter, swaying nervously when you add, “But I think it was always gonna go this way, wasn’t it?”

He sniffs. Shoulders jerk in a weak shrug. “Yeah, I think so, baby.”

Your eyelashes flutter, soothing the prickling feeling of tears forming. “I don’t – I don’t know if I want it to.”

“Yeah,” Joel says through a groan, pushing himself up, “you do.”

You shake your head as he approaches, and his hands cup your cheeks.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling your body tight against his. Your face buries in his chest; your tears wet on his shirt. He shushes you, rocks you gently back and forth with a hand on the back of your head. “Listen to me.”

“Joel –”

“Listen to me.” He pulls you back, swipes the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they fall. “We’re fine. We are going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you –”

“I know, I know. But you want to go do this. And that’s okay. Both of ‘em, at once.”

Your head shakes again. Like an instinctive reaction to the thought of being separated from him.

Joel smiles softly. “I am going to miss you like hell. You got no idea. But,” he pulls your head back to face his, tucks your hair behind your ear, “I want you to go. You gotta go after this. Right?”

“I know,” you whisper, lungs lurching for breath. “I just – wish it didn’t mean leavin’ you.”

“Darlin’…” Joel coos, pulling you in again. “You know how much I love you? What do I keep tellin’ you? We’ll be alright. It’s you ‘n me, right?”

You nod, salty tears slipping between your lips onto your tongue. When you look up, you notice the same expression on Joel’s face. He blinks his own away before they fall.

“’s you ‘n me,” you repeat, and he pulls your lips together.

You roll your tongue onto his, letting him taste you – all of you. Your mouth, and your thoughts, and your tears, and your pain. You let him take it all, let him hold it for this moment as you breathe him in, let his body fill yours in every way.

Your hands are in his hair, your chest pressed against his; he’s every thought on your mind and every beat in your heart. He’s the blood thrumming through your veins, he’s the oxygen filling your lungs; he’s the words between your teeth and the flesh around your bones.

And he pulls you, and you follow, his shirt in your fist, over to the bed where he lays you gently and falls on top.

“When’s he get back?” he asks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Later,” you mumble, your fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.

He pushes back, letting you tug it up up up over his shoulders at the same rate he peels your tee from yours, both tossing each other’s clothes to somewhere else in the room. Jeans undone, shorts dragged from your hips, underwear discarded until you’re naked under him, and he’s naked over you, and there’s nothing and no one between.

Joel cradles you, holds you close as he presses a palm roughly against the underside of your thigh, opening your body to him in a way only he’s mastered. In a way you only would, for him.

His hand cups your sex, fingers nudging between your folds, pushing in when your jaw slackens and a wanton moan echoes from your throat across Joel’s tongue.

“Yeah,” he coos, wrist jacking between your legs, “’s my girl. Gotta get you warmed up, huh? Get you nice ‘n wet.”

Your back arches, arms linking around his neck to pull him closer, pull him deeper. Hold him tight enough to you that your bodies feel one, feel connected at the meeting of Joel’s hand and the most intimate part of you; the meeting of your tongues between teeth.

And you gasp, the nudging of his fingers against the deepest part of your body, the messy circles of his thumb on your clit. The shape of him, solid and warm against the seam of your thigh.

You reach down for him, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and his breath hitches. Teeth bump into yours. You’re fucking irresistible to him.

“Darlin’,” his voice is low, daring you to keep going, “you wanna cut this short ‘fore we’re even started?”

You breathe a laugh into his jaw, hot and needy. “You get to play with me,” you whine, “I wanna play with you, too.”

Joel growls, seizing his movements, leaning back in what you take as him granting full access to his body. But then he says, “Turn around,” in a strict voice you’ve come to know as meaning one thing, and you pause.

You peel your eyes from his dick to blink up at him. “Turn –?”

“– around, now.” He takes your waist, hoisting you up until you’re straddling him, holding you inches above his body. “Turn.”

“What the fuck are you –?”

“Many times do I gotta tell you? You said you wanted to play.” He twists your waist until you follow his movements, swinging one leg over the other. He grabs your hips, tugging you back towards his face. “So, play,” he mutters, lowering your cunt down to his lips.

You gasp, falling forward and hitting the mattress between his legs. “J– fuck me. Are you s-serious?” You moan, hips rocking against the feeling of his bearded chin at your clit. “You’re like – a fucking – horny teenager. Oh, fuck.”

Your head falls forward, hands splaying out over his thighs, before your eyes refocus and you notice the hardened shape of him, tip oozing precome all over the hair-spattered plain of his groin. Your hand lifts, shakily taking hold of him again, and you lean down.

Elbows hooked over his thighs, you bring his tip to your lips, letting a thick bead of saliva fall and drip down the length of him, meeting your closed fist to be dragged up and down.

Joel’s hips almost buck. He holds it, manages to catch it, but you spot it. You’ve done this too many fucking times not to notice the reaction you draw from him.

“’s good,” you whisper, circling your hips on his face, tongue slipping across his cherry-red tip. “Feels so good.”

He responds in the form of a deep groan, rattling from his chest through your clit, shocking like lightning up your spine until the very same noise is thrown from your lips. You push down, tongue molding around every vein and the slow curve of his cock until your lips meet the thick brush of hair at his base, his tip kissing the very back of your throat.

Your throat which jumps, jolts at the feeling of something intruding – before you’re retreating again, pulling him from your body, warm, wet spit linking the two of you when you come up for air. And then you sink back down, head moving up down up down up down as his stomach tenses beneath your chest.

Joel’s palms keep a heavy hold on your ass, his tongue lapping between your folds like they’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted – like he might die if he doesn’t get his fix of you. And you think, they are, and he might, as your cheeks hollow and you bow down over him again.

You establish a rhythm, two waves swirling between one another: your hips rocking, Joel’s lifting ever so slightly as you suckle on one another. Your hand fisting the parts of him you can’t quite reach, not without choking; Joel holding you fixed to his jaw, letting the tip of his tongue hook around your swollen clit, then dragging it down until he’s letting you ride the wet muscle.

The approach of your first orgasm, a tiny spark catching to life in the pit of your belly, incites you with a need to open up further for him. Your throat taking more of him, your thighs slackening as you drive your cunt harder against his mouth.

“’m so close,” you whimper, lips curving around his cock. “So – fucking – ah, keep doin’ that. Right th-there.”

His hands hook around your thighs, tongue darting across your clit. His nose nudges somewhere between your folds, quickly becoming coated in the slick you’re leaking all over him.

“Joel,” you say, fists pumping his cock. Your voice a warning: it’s coming. You’re gonna – Fuck, you’re gonna come.

His voice is looser, more of a shrug of the shoulders when he pulls away from you. He inserts two fingers, curls them like before, like he knows drives you fucking insane. “Let go, babygirl,” he murmurs, lips immediately returning to position. And then, muffled and rough: “Come all over me.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, hands squeezing around his cock, feeling that same spark ignite into flame, your entire body bursting with heat.

Your high rips through you, battering through each vein in your system, each nerve electrified. You collapse between his legs, his rough pubic hair sticking to the sweat on your chest, hips rutting wildly against the sharp cut of his jaw.

The mattress absorbs most of the desperate moan which streaks across your tongue, nails digging hard into the flesh of Joel’s thighs. And you hear the deep sound of his voice, the thud thud thud of a chuckle against your clit: the cocky fucker laughing to himself as he unravels you for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Alright,” Joel says, more to himself than to the fucked-out shape of you between his legs. He sits up and shifts you carefully down the bed, settling you face-down on the mattress and lifting your ass to meet his hips. “Okay?” he asks, kneeling behind you.

You feel his tip between your legs, slotting happily somewhere in your opening. Waiting for your response. A response you don’t feel able to give, as much as you’d like to; your lips puffy and confused, words jumbling behind them in a tangle of bliss and love.

“Baby,” Joel says, hand slinking down your back, pressing gentle circles into the nape of your neck. “You okay?”

Your head lifts, glancing over your shoulder to see his hairy torso, his thick arms caging over you. He lifts your chin with two fingers, cranes your neck up until you’re looking into his eyes, heavy lids blinking dumbly.

“Just fuck me,” you whisper, and Joel slips his tongue into your mouth.

You used to dream of coming back home. A few years away, doing whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted. Dreaming things up and then chasing them until they happened. Tiring yourself out, lungs gasping for breath and eyes always searching, always looking for a new target to pin up. But always coming back.

Austin, Texas. Its jagged skyline, the streets lined with a vibrant glow and star-spangled bunting. The river like a silver-bellied snake slithering through. Home.

You dreamt of living out your days here, once your blood had slowed and your mind settled. A quiet life in the country, a big wooden house with a wraparound porch. Two little rocking chairs, so you and whoever your husband turned out to be could sit and watch the sky fade from red into orange into white and then dull gray into deep blue.

Breeze kissing your cheek, his lips kissing your knuckles.

Joel.

Home.

You tell him, and he smirks. “That so?” he asks, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your naked body.

You nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand, breathing in the sweet scent of sweat and sex sitting in the air. “Mhm. You could play guitar until the stars come out.”

He hums in agreement. “Sounds like a pretty good dream. Tell you what: you go to LA, do what you gotta do. By the time you come back, there’ll be a big ol’ farmhouse, wraparound porch, rollin’ fields for the dogs. Coffee ‘n sunsets. How’s that sound?”

“And you’ll be there?”

He smiles. Scoops you in one arm and rolls you onto your front, chest to chest with him. His fingers ghost down the curve of your shoulder. “Baby,” he whispers, “I built the damn thing.”

It forces a laugh from your chest, something you’ve gotten used to by now. Joel and his ability to steal a giggle from you, the dumbest moments seeming the funniest. “You’re gonna build me a damn house?” you ask, chin resting between his pecs.

“That what you want?”

Your head rocks left to right, considering. “I just want you. That’s all.”

“Then you got me. I’m all yours.”

In his hazel eyes lives every moment you’ve ever shared. Every conversation, every kiss, every fight. Every minute he’s spent looking for you or at you, every minute you’ve spent looking back at him. It’s all in there. You see it like a movie reel, frame by frame.

It lands like a slot machine on that first night. Cleaning up after pizza. Shoulder to shoulder by your kitchen sink. You wish you’d just kissed him. Even with your dad right there. Wish you’d lifted your heels and put your lips on his, just for the fucking hell of it. Just to condense all of it, every second of longing and hurt and pain into one fleeting moment.

Wish you’d pulled him into you, against you, the weight of his body like an old friend. Welcomed it with open arms, like you’d spent your entire life missing it, waiting for it to come back to you. Let yourself feel your own heart, peeling between the cage of your ribs, reaching out for his. Always reaching for him.

Wish you’d looked him in the eye, tears softening the tufts of graying hair, vignetting the smirk only you can tell is there. Looked at him in that knowing way, that language only you two know; the glint in your eyes translating a thousand messy words into three. Just three – the simplest, lightest words you’ve ever known.

I love you. Let’s skip to the good part.

#welp i didn't cry when i hit post. me? no. no way #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #cowboy like me

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galesdevoteewife · 4 months

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Gale may not be so typical squishy wizard/scholar?

-My Galeology study note-

Looking at his character sheet in the Deluxe pack gets me thinking, maybe our wizard is not exactly designed to be the typical squishy one...?

[Act2 spoiler warning]

2 things caught my eyes:

1) Great physical fitness, and good reflexes. (For your reference, Gale & Wyll are the two companions who have the highest Con: 15. I put everyone's sheets at the bottom of the post.)

His Con and Dex are... very high?? I mean, higher than Karlach and Lae'zel...????

Note 1: I suspect it could have something to do with his background as Mystra's chosen, as they are somewhat "transformed" when they agree to become the goddess's chosen. A topic for another day since I haven't quite figured it out yet, for anyone who is interested there's a chapter about it in The Seven Sisters. Also, I have little clues on how much chosen lore credit Larian was taking into account while designing him, or how Mystra's "taking back the given ability" works. Note 2: Again, Mystra's chosen are often sent on missions that involve a lot of traveling according to Elminster's series. Mystra also mentioned that Gale and she used to have adventures together, which leads to an assumption: despite his preference he might be traveling quite a lot until he was cast aside and quarantined himself in his tower. Might be the type of scholar who is very keen on field studies?

Note 3: Can someone undress Elminster to exam my theory please??xD Neh won't work I think all human might share same body model in game

Come to think of it, there was a party banter between Karlach & Gale that went like :

Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.

At first I thought that was a sarcastic joke but, seems like it wasn't? Also this:

Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. Karlach: In that case, welcome home.

...So it seems when I pictured him as a homebody, I should reimagine the concept of home... His has...lots of stairs? Just walking around in the tower could be counted as a workout, sort of thing? Note: I don't think the place he shows in the Act 2 cutscene is his tower. Otherwise, aren't these neighbors pretty much doomed?

2) Not THAT smart. Well, I love him, so I will speak in his defence: [1] He has a warm(s) digging holes in his brain. [2] Poisonous magical bile running in his blood. Maybe he's just not at his best, makes sense, eh? Wyll mentioned he is nerfed after tadpole too. After all, this man obviously memorized a DICTIONARY:

Gale: You promised to stay in Waterdeep. 'Promise,' verb, meaning to swear something will or will not be done. Tara the Tressym: And I decided 'will not'. And a good thing, too. You look like you haven't had a good meal in days

Player: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Gale: Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable. In seriousness, I'm glad you asked that question.

Along with a bunch of you-may-never-need information:

Everything about ceremorphosis? Myconid? Why in the world have him read about Cazador??? And how can he not know the distance between Waterdeep & Baldur's Gate, even Karlach ―who spent a decade, which is likely half of her life in hell― knows better geography than him. Gale either totally ignored the subject or portaled everywhere; distance meant nothing to him?? Uh, but you can't take party banters too seriously; it's buggy. How could a bug bit Karlach in the swamp? It should've been burned into ashes before it even reached her, no?

Anyway, just rambling some thoughts <3 I would have gone to Harvard if there was a major in Gale...

-DISCLAIMER- Brought to you by a brainrot wife, Galerian missionary. Be warned the article might has (strong) bias because the writer is braindead and she thinks Gale is the most awesome character in the world.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 gale #ramblings #Galeology #bg3 datamine

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wwinterwitch · 1 year

Text

nothing compares | namor x fem!reader

summary: there's not really a plot, it's just filth

pairing: namor x human!fem!reader

word count: 1,8K

warnings/what to expect: SMUT 18+ (MINORS DNI), grinding, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, fingering, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, kinda softdom!namor, established relationship, not explicit but reader is latina/has latin american roots, spoilers free

note: I just really needed to write something involving this painfully hot man or I would've combust. I hope you enjoy!

note 2: My fic used to include Namor talking in spanish but it's been edited out to be respectful of his background. I will keep the reader's expression in spanish tho because it's my own little way of celebrating my latine roots after watching the movie and I don't want my fic to lose that because it does mean a lot me.

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

main masterlist | marvel masterlist

There's nothing that could compare to this feeling. The sensation of his body against yours, his lips exploring your body with a devotion you've only seen in the way he makes love to you.

Everything's just perfect. From his teeth marking your neck to his hands gripping your hips just a little bit tighter whenever you pull his hair. From your fingers tracing down his firm back to his erection repeatedly rubbing against your soaked underwear.

He pulls away from your neck to meet your lips once again, practically melting into you as he leans impossibly closer, sharing a kiss so passionate you felt dizzy as your legs wrap around his hips to keep him as close as you possibly could.

A grunt left his lips when he moved his hips once again, his cock fully pressed to your clothed pussy. It was impossible to control himself as he started to move, trying to keep the slowest rhythm possible as he felt your wet underwear against him.

He moves back from the kiss, smirking when he realizes how you lean up in an attempt to continue kissing him. A hand reaches your neck to keep you in place just instants before he rocks his hips in one slow, sensual move, making you moan in response.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Namor says, his hand around your neck still.

"Missed you too...," you're able to say, a moan escaping your lips again when he moves again, "...so much."

"Yeah?" he asks with a smirk, enjoying seeing your desperation grow with each movement of his hips. You were only able to nod. "Tell me."

"I missed you so much...I was hoping you'll come to visit me soon. It's been so long, and I can't make myself cum the way you do...I need you, mi amor. Please..."

You could feel his grip on your neck tightening as you spoke, his eyes dark with desire and his cock twitching after your confession.

Encouraged by your words, he let go of your neck to grab both of your legs, moving them away from his body to spread them open again. His hands were resting on each of your knees before trailing down the inside of your things, eyes never leaving your face as he admired your reaction to his touch.

Namor takes your panties off in a rushed, determined move. He keeps his hands on your hips right after throwing the piece of clothing to the floor, moving down your body. His tongue licks up your belly before he moves further down.

You look down to find him already looking up, smiling like he won the biggest price before he licked a single strap up your folds, the contact of his tongue against your clit sending shivers down your spine, moaning softly. He continued to taste you with his tongue. At first he was very gentle, but then he started to move his tongue way faster, his eyes looking up at you while you continued to moan for him.

He had no mercy. Sucking on your clit as hard as he could, tongue occasionally teasing your entrance, the way he didn't care to be loud and messy...he was determined to make you cum as soon as possible.

And you could feel your orgasm approaching. The fact that he repeatedly looked up at you and the work he was doing with his skillful mouth were driving you to the edge.

You cum with a loud moan, Namor's arms hooking around your legs to keep you as still as possible while he continues. It's not like it was necessary for him to move back to breathe anyway.

Managing to stand up just enough to get a better look of him, you felt like you could cum again just because of this sight. Namor holding onto you and keeping your legs open for him, eyes closed as he enjoys savoring you, almost humming against you as he continues to eat you out like it's his favorite thing in the entire world.

It was a matter of time before you felt your second orgasm approaching. By the time it hits you, you collapse back on the bed as you feel Namor's grip on you tightening to keep you from closing your legs.

The fact that you just had two orgasms only encouraged him to continue his attack at the fastest speed he could possibly achieve, his mouth creating the filthiest sounds against your wet cunt.

You had to hold onto the sheets of your bed, feeling the tears in the corner of your eyes while he sucked on your clit. Your legs shake and your whole body spasms with your third orgasm, and you felt like crying out loud when you realized he's still not going to stop.

He gave you just a couple of seconds to relax, pulling his mouth away from you but quickly moving his hand to your pussy. The feeling of his thumb barely rubbing your clit made you tremble all over again, whimpering.

"Please...," you say. It was unclear to you if you were asking for a break or for him to put his fingers inside you already.

"Please what, my love?" he questions, mouth and chin all covered in your juices. The fact that he just didn't seem to care, not wanting to clean himself off after his attack on you was slowly driving you insane.

"I– I don't..." you attempt to say, whimpering once again. "Can't...think."

Namor gives you a quick and sympathetic "Aww" in a clearly teasing manner before leaning down so his entire body would be closer to you again. His fingers start exploring your folds until they're at your entrance, making you shudder again. "What's the matter? Can't think properly when I make love to you?"

You nod eagerly, whimpering against his lips when he's kissing you again with as much devotion and need as ever. As soon as you feel two of his fingers entering you, your arms wrap around his neck in a desperate attempt to just do something. He was fucking you stupid, barely making it possible for you to move or talk without him instructing you to.

His tongue explores your mouth as his fingers curl inside you, and the taste of your own arousal invading your mouth mixed with the way his fingers move in and out of your still sensitive core only makes your situation worse.

You were so dizzy you were practically his doll right now. He could move you around however he pleases and you won't dare to complain because everything he does to your body just feels too good.

Due to how sensitive your whole body was, and the fact that his fingers kept curling inside you with no intention of ever slowing down, it was inevitable that a fourth orgasm would flow across your entire body. It forces you to move your head to the side to escape his kiss, panting as he whispers praises to you against your cheek, his hot breath hitting your skin as his fingers are still buried deep inside you.

"You think you can take my cock now?" he asks in the sweetest tone, contrasting with the words he just spoke and the way he didn't want to give your body any rest.

He awaits for your answer while he fixes your messy hair, moving it away from your face before one of his hands holds onto your chin, looking down at you. "Yes, please," was your response, earning a smirk from him.

"Always so polite," he comments in a joking manner, secretly enjoying the way you'd always ask for him to do things to you...how you never care to beg for him. He'll never get enough of it.

His fingers finally slip out of you and he moves his hand up to your lips. You understood the message fairly quickly, licking his fingers clean while he observes you proudly. He then uses that same hand to stroke himself a few times before he starts entering you in the slowest way possible, wanting to enjoy the feeling of your walls stretching around every inch of him.

You hold onto him as he enters you, every inch that disappears inside of you makes you that much desperate, rocking your hips up until he starts to hold you tighter, keeping you in place. Despite being so sensitive, you needed him to move already.

He's finally completely inside of you, and he takes a moment to take in the feeling of his cock entirely buried deep inside before moving his hips back, his cock sliding out of your tight hole as both of you moan at the feeling of it. It didn't take long for him to lose all sense of self control, starting to rock his hips in a faster rhythm as you hold onto his bicep, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Namor completely gives in to the feeling, fucking you in a fast yet incredibly loving manner, trying to show you how much he loves you while also making it clear to you the way your body drives him crazy. To have a literal God worshiping you in this way...it was impossible for you not to let that go to your head.

He's gripping your hips with such strength, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all around your neck, cock repeatedly hitting a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you...all of that is only contributing to your next orgasm rapidly approaching. You can tell he's close too, his grunts, praises and curses crashing into the skin of your neck like the waves were crashing against the shore the first time you met him.

"Fuck, just like that," he mutters close to your ear. "Keep squeezing me just like that," he added, the comment making you realize the way your walls are tightening around him as you're about to cum yet again thanks to him.

You finally cum with a loud call of his name, holding onto him for dear life as you spasm underneath him once again, tears falling from your eyes as you feel yourself in heaven for the fifth time. He keeps fucking you as you bite onto his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your sounds. Namor rocks his hips a few more times, his loudest grunt yet falling from his lips when he's filling you with his cum, giving a couple of hard, decisive thrusts to secure his cum inside you.

After a few seconds of entire bliss, you feel his fingers wiping your tears away before he once again makes sure to brush your hair away from your face. His eyes were looking down at you with such love, it was once again contrasting with the way he just fucked you. You run a hand up and down his arm affectionately in response, eagerly receiving his kiss when he leans down closer to you.

"You did so good for me," he praises you in a loving voice.

And as he continues to gently kiss your lips, cock still inside you and hands carefully roaming across your body, you once again could confirm that there is absolutely nothing in this world that could ever compare to this feeling. Absolutely no one could ever compare to Namor. You're entirely his, just like he's entirely at your mercy. You wouldn't have it any other way.

#namor x reader #namor #namor smut #black panther wakanda forever #black panther 2 #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #namor x fem!reader #tenoch huerta

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mo0nfairy · 1 year

Note

Any chance of some nsfw with guard puppy leon pls? 👉👈 I love the way u write him sm😩😳

tw :: nsfw themes (mdni!!), re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, sub!leon, masochism, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, invasion of privacy, leon being infected for like 2 seconds, (also no specification of reader's gender/genitalia).

⸺ ya'll.................. you can't drop shit like this in my inbox and not expect me to go feral. (i am also legally obligated to use this gif cause how can i resist).

let's say it's right after the events of re4. you and leon had spent an eternity dodging every kind of abomination known to mankind before you finally made it to safety. the government then took you in to study the effects the plaga parasite had on humans. however, leon was infected while you weren't, meaning the two of you would have to be temporarily separated. and fuck, being away from you kills leon with need. he just has to get his hands on you. and when his head gets fogged up with all sorts of disastrous scenarios (all involving you hurting in some shape or form), leon busts open the lock to his room and sets out on finding you. practically tearing the place asunder in his efforts, he finally locates you in a completely separate wing.

how fucking dare they take you so far from him? what if something happened? what if he can't be there to protect you-!?

his train of thought is abruptly cut off when he enters the room and finds you, entirely naked. there are several doctors around you, poking and prodding at you like a lab rat. leon literally just !!!!!!!!! at the sight, but is also >:( because of all these people putting their filthy hands on you. he is enraged at the people for touching you, but he also can't tame his heart after seeing your bare skin. he leaves to his room with his tail between his legs and his face adorned in red blotches. and poor leon hasn't been granted a single second alone to relieve himself, not with all these scientists and security guards surrounding him 24/7. (he got a little aggressive with staff when he had to seperate from you).

and being unable to relieve himself before he can see you and drown you in his obsession is destroying him. especially when he learns you've been moved to a safehouse all the way across the country, all while he has to stay in this hospital without you. he isn’t sleeping, he lost his appetite, and his body temperature has increased to a worrisome degree. the doctors even put down ‘hypersexual’ as one of his symptoms. and just a week later, leon is still distraught, but is all healed up. his mood brightens, however, when he learns he is being sent to the same undisclosed location. finally, he gets to be alone with you. and god, he is desperate.

practically tearing the front door off its hinges, leon searches for you through the house like a goddamn serial killer. and when he finds you, he goes feral. you don't have a second to even acknowledge the second presence in the house before he is all over you. one second you're minding your business and the next you're practically being smothered to death. on the counter, on the bed, hell, on the floor, leon doesn't give a shit where. as long as he’s able to ensure no inch on your body goes untouched.

leon tears your clothes off like a predator tearing apart the flesh of its prey. his calloused hands touch everywhere he can with almost religious fervor. good god, has leon ached for this. he's constantly losing air from latching his mouth all over you. he'll pull back a good centimeter, wait maybe a picosecond to catch his breath, before indulging in you again. and sidenote, he's a virgin (fight me abt it). sweet, innocent leon is so inexperienced but tries so. fucking. hard. all you have to do is sit back and guide him. every syllable out of your mouth is gospel to him, after all.

while his tongue is practically shoved down your throat, you bite down on the squirming muscle and it's just....…. instant subspace. his eyebrows scrunch upwards and he's moaning like a bitch into your mouth. his entire life, leon has endured so much pain, (especially right after the events of re4). but to hurt at your hand, knowing he is still safe with you? it is like heaven and hell in the same breath. so please, hurt him, bite him, rip out his fucking throat with your teeth if you want- just fucking do anything to him!

and leon is so distracted by you, he doesn't even realize how devastating he looks. his cheeks are as red as two ripe cherries; his eyes are wet with infatuation, brimming with tears. and downstairs, the vulgar sight displays a good 8 inches erect, on the skinny side with veins protruding the straight, pink shaft. his tip flushes an angry red and is overwhelmed with precum. you gently take it into your hand and caress the white-pearl with your thumb. and leon's voice literally raises several octaves in such an obscene manner, you wonder how he'll react when he's finally inside of you. but for now, your mere hands on him has turned him into a completely different person.

you guide his bloated head to your entrance and rub it into the surrounding skin, now slick with your spit and his precum. leon's entire body is shaking; his chest is flat from holding his breath in anticipation. 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-' his chants huff against your face while his gaze is casted downwards, trembling from the sight alone. you could keep him here if you wanted, torture him even more. mock his whining while his swollen head is practically begging you to let him in and end this agony. but, he's just too damn cute. so, you give your poor puppy what he so desperately wants and push him into your soaked hole with ease. and the cry leon lets out is nothing short of pornographic.

"y-y/n/n-! oh, jesus, sh-shit-... uhn-!" his forehead is pressed against yours as he moans out for you.

when leon finally bottoms out inside, you let your spongy, sopping walls adjust to the length of his dick and try to calm him down (to no avail, unfortunately). he's too caught up in tripping over his words, attempting to verbalize the adrenaline coursing through him from just how amazing you feel and how soul-crushingly good it will be when he finishes. leon hasn't even started moving yet and he's already overwhelmingly drunk on pleasure.

you then push down on his lower back, giving him permission to begin moving. and the man leon becomes is that of a creature possessed. there is not a single moment spent being gentle, he is rutting into your thick heat like his life depends on it. he buries his face into your neck and everything just becomes so messy. your hot, hyperventilating breaths paint the air and your bodies are sheen with sweat as they stick together. his hands are locked around you like a lifeline, clinging so tightly to you as if he were hanging from a cliffside and you were his saving grace. (this is him basically). with his eyes rolling into the back of his skull, his hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, his jaw hung low with uncontrollable moans — god, you make him so fucking stupid.

'hmy- my fuckin’ god- y/n/n, i-... 'm-your- your stupid mutt, your dumb puppy... fuck, s’fuckin’ good, s’fuckin' perfect." you're not even exactly sure what leon is saying, with his voice muffled against your neck. but, when his voice is so whiny and slurred like that, you can only imagine how adorably pathetic the words that follow are.

drool seeps down his chin and pools in the nape of your shoulder. his mouth is all over your neck like a vampire, lazily kissing and marking your skin. with how overwhelmingly intense the euphoria is, he knows that one glance at your godly face and body will send him over the edge. so, he keeps his face nestled away. fortunately for him, however, you're not far behind from finishing. every vigorous thrust of his plunges deep into you, causing your body to jolt forward from the sheer force.

you grasp hold of leon's hand, causing his heart to practically explode in his chest, before guiding him on how to stimulate you. his hands rub against your sex with fervent, clumsy haste. and before you can even blink, your orgasm hits you like a wave. it is unexpected and unbelievably intense. every sound from your mouth causes leon’s dick to twitch inside of you, pushing him closer and closer to that earth-shattering finish. he is now full-on crying, his lewd sobs and pleads reverberating from the grip your body has on him. in the cusp of your high, you grab a fistful of leon's blonde hair and pull his head back.

you growl in his ear, "you're my bitch in heat."

and with that, leon gushes inside of you. a deafening wail permeates the room as he sporadically thrusts his hips against yours with bruising force. he practically bleats like a sheep as he cums and anyone lurking outside would probably think you were murdering him. leon fills you to the brim with his seed, the excess escaping past your entrance and staining the surface beneath. his vision goes white, his body shivers with rapture, and his mind is devoid of any thoughts beside you, you, you. the act of intimacy, to revel in your pleasure — oh, it is heaven. leon knew it was gonna be good, but never this fucking good.

every muscle in his body then goes limp against you. quiet whimpers pervade the air as he presses sloppy, soft kisses against your lips. chants of 'i love you, i love you so fucking much' escape his breathless mouth. and the look in his honeyed gaze... he is just so fucking happy to be back with the only person he could ever love, the only person he could ever need. it's clear as day, leon couldn't be more in love with you. but, when you try and push him away for some room to breathe, his hold on you turns tenacious and you can feel how he is still rock-hard inside of you.

you realize that not only are you in for a long night, but you are in for a long, long life beside leon.

okay..... this is my first time writing smut. like ever. if it's shit, pls don't be afraid to send some critique my way!! thank u !

#i have no idea wtf im doing #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #yandere smut #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

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overtaken-stream · 2 months

Note

Do you have any writing plans involving Katakuri or the Big mom pirates?

Monster's Voice Is Sweet To Hear

Charlotte Katakuri x F!Wife!Reader

! !NSFW! !

This is from ao3, last year, sorry for any grammar mistakes, as well as my different writing, this is also the first time I wrote filth, aside from the love-making in the Ace fic from Ao3. I want to write something for him but the ideas are just not coming to me. I also didn't specify readers race. Just that it's a female and tall/stronger then a human since we all know Big Mom won't just toss away Katakuri and make him marry a boring human with no specialties. this could work on all shapes and sizes of reader, chubby and skinny.

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Rarely in the dead of night, a monster such as Katakuri needs love. It's something you can't say no to. After all, how can you deny that unnerving voice of his.

Warnings: Size difference, POST-WANO SPOILERS, multiple rounds.

In the quiet night, where only the humming of your voice is heard.

Light from the cake-inspired lamp bounces off the pink walls the shadow that's in a silhouette of a woman falls onto the giant bed in the center of the room.

On a quiet night, a married girl takes her jewelry off and places it in one of the drawers the magenta bureau contains.

You stand up from the chair, getting closer to the bed. Getting out of your clothes and putting on a modified (F/C) nightgown, you straighten the hot pink details running over your tall figure as you lie down on the heavenly bed.

Only at the sound of a door opening did you quickly get under the blanket. The sound of metal and leather rubbing against itself notifies you of the person who walked in before they can even say anything.

``(Y/N).``

``Katakuri.`` You shyly show your face from the covers to see the sight of your husband of 3 years now, even after all this time you can feel the blush creeping up your face, no matter how long you will never get used to seeing a man that's able to look down at you. That stoic and firey gaze always unleashed the butterflies deep inside your belly.

``I apologize for startling you, I've seemed to... Be distracted lately.`` This was his way of saying I forgot to knock on the door. With much time you start to learn the ways of Katakuri's speech patterns. Start to recognize what words his pride was holding back even from you. Apologetic wasn't one of them. It isn't like he's trying to hide something after all you've seen his biggest weakness in action multiple times, gobbling all kinds of sweets. But never have you thought forgetting was something Katakuri was capable of. It wasn't until after the incident at Pudding's wedding involving the Strawhats that Katakuri's mask, which he had been carrying since marrying you (probably much, much longer than that) truly shattered. Thanks to his younger sister Flampe not keeping her mouth shut about how horrid her big brother is physically and then about his treatment towards her, after what she did. The brat even tried to approach you to run her tongue about Katakuri. Your husband.

Honor is off the table when faced with a person with that kind of mindset. Never mind the respect when facing a worthy opponent.

``Mind if I join you?``

``No, not at all.`` You smile as you watch him carefully get out of his uniform. Never did you imagine you would smile at Katakuri, compared to the sad bride and groom the two of you were. The new life treated you both kindly, it wasn't fast but it wasn't slow-paced either.

The stiff and awkward interactions turned into small conversations about interests and they blossomed into what can only be fondness. The road came with its fare-share of bumps, and both of you dived head first in this with only your families in mind, ready to throw away what little freedom both of you had for your parent's satisfaction.

At the wedding ceremony, walls were built. Walls that cracked the more time you spent with each other.

``Y'know, Luffy was announced as an Emperor today.`` You fill in the silence. Knowing Katakuri's favorite topic you slide in the information.

Katakuri stops mid-changing and raises his head at that. He had told you about Luffy a couple of weeks ago, finally emptying his head to you about the topic he was trying to tell you the moment he returned to your room injured. You didn't push him back then.

The time will come when he'll bring it up. You would tell yourself. It's his calculations of reactions that hold him, little insecurities eating him up and even if the conversation was late, you are happy that he was finally opening up. To you at least.

``Is that so?``

``Yeah, it was in today's newspaper. It said he defeated Kaidou, impressive huh?``

You watch as he nods his head. You debate for a second if you should tell him the next sentence, but he is her son, after all, today he dedicated himself to the library (A time he cherishes since it happens so rarely. A battle with the Straw Hat sure tired him out. You wonder if it's a blessing in disguise sometimes. If it is you wouldn't be surprised.) and judging from his lack of knowledge about the feat Luffy accomplished, you might as well tell him now...

``Surgeon of Death and The Eustass kid from the Worst Generation were involved... They defeated Big Mom.`` At that, you can feel how the temperature drops in the room, his movements to put the clothes back in their place slowed down until they came to a stop. It almost felt like time had stopped.

``I've heard about that. All the commotion in the palace this morning was from Perospero's call. They needed a backup to retrieve them.`` He says as the heavyweight is lifted off the room, letting go of the fabric he was holding onto, the time begins to roll once again.

You don't bat an eye at Katakuri's actions and his casualness. You doubt he would mourn his mother.

You quiver as the blanket is thrown off of you, the chill biting your arms and chest before he joins you on the bed. You fix your body position as the natural warmth his body carries sends shivers down your spine. Your back facing his chest as his giant hand creeps up to cradle your waist.

You shy away or try to. But the moment his fingers softly graze your pelvis, a tight knot starts developing, his shy yet soothing and careful touches sending the blood up to your face.

He's mindful of his heaviness, even if you are taller than a human should be, more tolerant and powerful, he treats you the same as he would to his child siblings, with feather-light touches. It's instinct at this point. It makes you nervous. Makes you red and sad, as well as happy that he also wasn't the only one with bad habits.

Habits that differentiate you two are rare. Since most of them are dependent on higher-than-an-average-human height.

``Is this okay?`` his open eyes travel over your face devoid of any skin color except red. You nod.

``...May I?`` The awkwardness in his voice is precious. Sweet as a mochi should be. Not how a monster's should be.

It makes your heart skip a beat and your core to pulse.

The impatience takes over when he's leaving lingering touches closer and closer to where you would like the itchiness to go away. The temptation to grab his hand and drag it to your genitalia is strong. Biting the bottom lip you feel his hand cup your crotch, and it's a feeling you'll never get tired of.

He shoves the gown's bottom piece up to your belly button, getting the cue you grab the (F/C) silky cloth. It's tacky but it was one of the more subtle ones that Brûlée has picked for you.

You shift your left thigh to the side when the tips of his finger flex on top of your clitoris, a thin layer of fabric stopping him from intruding, yet he is still making you pulse and drowning you in the electric shock of pleasure. The fingers slowly run over it, again and again putting no pressure behind the movement.

When his right-hand digs behind your back, your flushed face barely turns around to ask him what he is doing.

``Changing position...`` Katakuri says as he carefully scoops your neck between his forearm and upper arm, his left hand grabs onto your right hip.

His show of strength as he gets you on top of him in a second, leaves your knees shaking. At first, you lay on his chest with your back pressed against him.

Even with your superior height he somehow manages to make you feel as if you were a human, it makes you doubt your reality for a millisecond, his right hand balancing you and the other one going down your body a bit too fast, your suspicions are confirmed by the impatience with which he tosses the blanket off of your bodies. The room temperature now no longer poses a threat to your skin.

This time he isn't as slow with his actions, leaving the undergarments on, he rubs up and down your slit, feeling its warmth escape onto his sweaty hands.

The quiet room was momentarily full of little gasps and beating hearts of both parties. A squeak leaves your mouth as you rise from your position on his chest, leaning on your elbows that are still... On his chest. The coldness that sudden separation brings on your back is forgotten as you look down to where Katakuri is making laps around you. The moisture grows in seconds when he presses his thumb on your clit, slowly rocking it sideways and tightening the knot deep within you.

You try to bite the bottom of your mouth to not let the noises escape but as Katakuri flattens his hand so his index and middle finger are sliding and tickling your entrance, the task to stay quiet becomes very difficult. You feel the way he snakes his second hand up your breasts while the other separates the undergarment from your folds. Little moans sneak past your lips as you look straight down, the bulge that shows from underneath your thighs just makes your heart beat out of your ribcage.

Katakuri lays his forehead on your shoulder as he feels the wetness coating the surroundings of your entrance, he knew the smaller hands were coming before feeling them pull down the owner's panties, momentarily stopping for her to take it off before he continued infiltrating it. His right hand fondling with your breasts squishing them but not rough enough to hurt you.

For a split second, you felt the pain of the stretch, arching your back and tossing your head over his shoulder as Katakuri's other hand played with the silk-covered nipple, he pushed his forehead down on your cleavage, it wasn't in his intentions but the size difference was really making your mind mushy.

You could feel him shaking from below you as you rest on top of him, closed eyes and clean mind absorbing your movements.

For a couple of seconds, you lay like that, panting breathes and already sweat covered. He won't move. He won't hurt you. He'll give you time to adjust.

Your hand lands on his crimson hair, fingers run through the short pink layers devoid of grey. It startles him, eyes snapping open he looks to his left shoulder where you are resting your head and meets his beloved's smiling face staring back at him.

Pink dusted his cheeks and as his heart jumped, his mouth opened and closed, this nervous feeling is shameful to him. The big brother Katakuri was still getting used to his new-not-so-new feelings towards new-not-so-new his wife, and expressing them to her face turned out to be the most complicated and difficult part. (Aside from Brûlée, she has seen him at his worst. It's a new feeling, a new type of embarrassment he hasn't experienced with anyone, not even Brûlée. The thought of this ever getting out almost frightens him. It frightens him.)

At last, he chooses to look away as you chuckle.

``C-can you move now?`` He nearly forgot.

``Are you... Sure?``

``Yeah, now c'mon... I was so close...``

He continues his motions with soft pink shades over his face, and slowly the two fingers slide deeper into your gummy walls. The clenching makes him wish it was some other part of his inside of you instead of his fingers. He listens as hisses leave your lips from the painfully nice stretch, the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes being wiped away by Katakuri's other hand that took a break from playing with your breasts, he feels his boxer get tighter when your legs shake around his massive thighs, for a second he feels glad that you aren't super tiny, it makes this feel like the first time both of you did it. It holds a special place in his heart, the lovely touches have never been that satisfying. And every time you take your time to show affection to him during it- he falls further and further in love with you. Even if he doesn't show it, or return them, he appreciates the gestures.

He knows it's time to start the actions of love and that you would certainly never reject it. It's the childish fear keeping his head and eyes locked away during them. Is he shy? Maybe. Does he wan't to return the gesture? Some would think that he doesn't.

The whimpering noises fill his head as he finally went in knuckle deep, he lifts his head from your cleavage and brings your face closer for a kiss, eating the deep moan that leaves your mouth when he pulls out his finger and pushes it back into the warmth. Watching with open eyes how your eyebrows point up in pleasure twisting into a lustful picture he'll love for the rest of his life. The fact that he is the only one who's allowed to see it makes his head dizzy with what other expressions he could steal from you.

He slowly fastens his pace, making and leaving your walls a mess before he gets back in and fixes it with his fingers, finding that spongey spot was easy, having it memorized Katakuri curves his fingers upwards and pistons into it, barely taking his fingers out.

One after another lustful noises (now louder than ever) escape before you can bite your tongue. At some point, drool started coming out of your mouth. Eyes closed you can feel how Katakuri milked your sweet spot brutally, making your cunt weep and sting oh so impossibly delightfully.

His hand and your thights are all wet now.

``Just aah little m-more...!``

You were so close. So incredibly close.

The moment Katakuri forced his hand to dig deeper in your cunt, to get past the line of his knuckles, and pushed upwards into your belly, forcing you to arch for him harder was the moment you were seeing stars.

Your closed eyes were going into your head and your wide mouth was slack as he held your hip with one hand and rubbed your clit faster than ever with the other one. Throwing you off the edge and finally loosening the knot that was tied at the start, slick now not-so-unclear dribs down your slit, he doesn't let you have a break, hand still accompanying you even after your orgasm.

You don't complain.

He slowly pushes your pelvis down with his forearm to meet his hips, not slowing his fast-paced rubbing. Your moans are now as free as they can be, but you limit yourself, wanting to hear little grunts and deep slow moans from Katakuri. You honestly think you could cum from his voice alone.

He's beautiful you think.

His eyes are closed, the furrowing thin eyebrows holding onto the sweat drops that are covering his face in a thin layer of gloss. His eyes are closed yet he seems so concentrated to make you cum again. The vein in his forehead is on full display for you. His naturally long eyelashes adorned his hooded eyes.

``You're Beau...tiful... Kata...``

The way he hides his mouth in your cleavage and not in your shoulder because of his big size, the way he is avoiding eye contact the moment you whispered those two words. The way your heart shattered, is like no other pain you've felt. Because this boy is so... So incredibly sad. You want to kiss the pain away, the worries to be crushed under your tall figure. You want to shield him because he deserved so much more than this family.

``Sooo pretty... C-can you look...at me?`` Exhausted, you reach out.

You don't pay attention to the second orgasm, too busy complimenting him about his beauty. You miss how he is rutting his clothed hips right on your naked ass. You don't miss how he turns his face to the opposite side from you, you don't miss the red-colored ears as you hug his neck. Biting his ears as you are getting closer yet again. You notice how he's gone quiet the moment you praised him. How he is listening to your moans right in his ear.

Suddenly he crashes his hips into you, stinging sensations of him losing grip on his strength lays mockingly on the prints he has branded on both sides of your hips. Even if you were drowning in an indescribable pleasure you didn't miss the way he threw his head back, he almost roars a held-back-moan as wetness spreads on your ass. You don't have to look down to know that both of you guys's cum is wetting the sheets below.

Did he cum by pleasuring you?

Shit... That's so... Hot.

You've known there were ten million ways to love somebody and this. This was one of them.

Katakuri relaxes on the pillow behind him, coming down from the high he tossed both of you in, your arms still around his neck. He opens his eyes looking down at your face, It's a mess really, with sweat and hair sticking on your forehead, swollen lips from the previous kiss (he spends extra seconds looking and feeling the breasts resting against his own skin) but it doesn't matter to him, all he sees are the fruits of his labor. He finally removes his hands from your hips, his gaze falling on a now-covered-by-your-nightgown spot.

Did he leave a mark?

A giggle escapes from your lips before you can stop it, earning a playful glare from his direction. What's so funny?

``Aha-I'm sorry, it's just. You're so red!`` He looks through you, unfocusing his eyes before turning his (now red from embarrassment) face away from you.

You rub your cheek against him, feeling the stitch scars that lead to his mouth hole.

``Awh! C'mon don't hide from me!``

``...You're getting brave (Y/N)...``

``I don't have to be brave to call my husband beautiful and handsome! Plus you're so cute right now!``

``I'm not cute...``

``Sure you're not.`` You're pushing it. You are sure as hell not sure where this confidence came from but you aren't complaining.

Putting your hand under his chin and turning his face toward you.

His eyes settle on your lips before you pull yourself up to make your (S/C) lips land on his monstrous mouth. Like a beast, he doesn't close his eyes, unlike you.

Yet again choosing to make up for the time he closed his eyes during the sex. Staring into your wet eyelashes.

His left arm drags you so impossibly closer to his chest, in a hug while his other hand puts a strand of (H/C) hair back over your ear. When you try to pull away he follows your lips down. Cherishing the strawberry residue that the lipstick left.

A couple of moments last of you two in a romantic kiss before it turns into playful pecks across each other faces. Katakuri was careful with his fangs, still getting used to having someone get as close as he was to the white knives. He calls them and judging from the sharpness you can't exactly call him wrong.

It lasts like that for more than necessary. The sweet touches turned harsh from him is a normal feeling for you, pain tolerance is one of your specialties. It's in your blood. There is nothing he could do from the outside that could hurt you. From the inside, it's a different story.

It's the reason why Charlotte Linlin chose you to be the bride for her second son.

``He's a monster in humans skin,`` She said.

``Better have that scarf around you at all times Katakuri, don't frighten the soon-to-be bride.`` She said at one of the tea parties she had invited your family over.

It was humiliating for him to hear those words, let alone in front of a different kingdom's royal family. Those words were enough for you to have an opinion set on Big Mom.

And Katakuri too. It was respect, you respected him for putting up with people like his mother daily. Another thing to add in the similarities chart besides the height.

``Don't you think your genetic powers would make lovely children for my boy here darling? Wouldn't that be wonderful?``

You pity the children you have to give birth to. Because you know it will happen.

Her piercing gaze and a change in tone was the only reason you nodded your head. It was how the entire party went actually, with you acting like one of Big Mom's homies. Bobbing your head to every compliment she would say about you and your powers.

Maybe that's what left a sour taste in Katakuri's mouth. Why he avoided you for a couple of months after the wedding, he probably saw you as a fragile bimbo who was swayed by fear.

You would hate to say it but the truth is always hard to swallow.

It was what you were before the wedding and after. No doubt about that. The fear of upsetting a bomb that was Big Mom terrified you to your core. You could take Katakuri ignoring and avoiding you but you could never say no to them, the strings she had on your family were too tightly tied around their necks to risk it. Not to mention the thousands of people's lives each of your family member represented.

``The more you fuck around the more you're gonna find out`` As your diplomat father would say in all kinds of situations. It's just that in this instance it wasn't comedic.

It was a psychological thriller. And fucking around you couldn't.

It was a sad start to your relationship with him, an unwanted marriage both of you were against at first, maybe in another lifetime one of you would have had a voice to protest it. But for now, you enjoy the soft embrace of his arms around your shoulders. A loud banging of his heart against your ear.

The chill of the aftermath leaving your body and replacing it with a sticky feeling between your crotch and the smell of sex that wasn't visible at the time.

``Well then, don't you want to clean yourself up?``

``No, I don't.``

``W-why not?`` Usually, Katakuri loves his cleanliness, organization, and tidiness. He showers after coming home, often he's the one running to the bathroom with towels in his hands before you can even process that you've arrived home.

``...I just don't want this to end.``

``... You...`` And you thought Katakuri had run out of his surprise factor. It makes you want to toss your feet in the air with tiny kicks, giggles and everything, it makes you blush.

Seriously? Why are you acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on her upperclassmen?! Have you lost all your marbles in you, woman?! Where is the royal blood?!

You can practically feel the inner, secondary or tiny voice in your head yelling at you.

``Y... You do...?`` Unbelievable.

A nod from him is all you need.

``Y'know, we don't... Have to end it...``

``What?`` God his obliviousness makes you want to strangle him.

``We can... Continue it instead...I-i mean... If you... Want..?`` You run your index finger over his chest, tracing the tattoo with half-lidded eyes and lips in a kissing position. If this isn't lustfull, you don't know what is.

``...``

``... We can?`` His shocked eyes leave you once again, speechless.

``Of... Of course, we can! If you have any energy left that is... What made you think that we couldn't..?``

Sex is something that rarely happens between you and him since both of you most of the time are sent out for missions separately, however, If your memories aren't lying to you there are a total of four times (not counting this one) that you guys have slept together. How many times did he want to cuddle after sex? 2 times? 3 times?

Such a bad wife you've been to him.

WHAT DON'T THINK LIKE THAT!

Your questions go unanswered. Instead, he gently turns you onto your back, his hands balancing himself like a pole, they shut off your field of vision 'till you can't look anywhere instead up.

And up you look.

You think it's a sight any fair lady would go feral over. So what if you've seen this many times before, it never fails to make you nervous, the confidence dripping off of him, even if shaky eyesight proves just how unconfident he is.

Swoon over him you do.

The feeling you got at the start of the night coming back ten times stronger and filling up your heart until it's back to the pace it was before, this time maybe even shaking sideways for dramatic or. romantic effect.

Your breathing quickens as his head follows his body that was leaning on his thighs which were usually heavy with accessories of any kind, mostly following his gothic style with minor changes. Now he stands on top of your legs with his free-of-any-weight ones, caging yours with his knees. He has a charm in the way he travels his hand down on your skin, giant fingers ghosting over the most sensitive of places. The size difference isn't much but staring at your squished thighs and comparing it to the thickness of his knees makes your breath hitch, gulping you look up towards his face.

Katakuri's sharp crimson eyes glimmer down at you.

He had never once failed to make you feel so unbelievably small under his gaze, you find this exact moment perfect to take off your sticky nightgown that's wet with substances from both of your bodies. It turns out to be a good hiding device for your face, too bad it only lasts a couple of seconds before Katakuri gets suspicious.

Once over your head, you toss the (F/C) fabric somewhere on the floor. Presenting your fully naked body to him.

You don't know when or how he got the boxer off, but he now stands in all of his glory. One would think he was flexing his muscles, and he was. With how heavily Katakuri was breathing, you would have run your fingers up his tattoo if he didn't grab your legs first, taking them out of his leg jail, it was an awkward struggle to pull them over his thighs but he managed to not stretch it out for too long.

It felt so right, you against him fitting like puzzle pieces, your warm legs clinging onto his hips that are the perfect fit for your long legs.

It's your fantasy coming to life and so is his.

Katakuri pulls your hips near his pelvis to get you in a comfortable position. His fingers play with your now relaxed entrance. His other hand strokes his sex in front of you.

Shyness is thrown out of the window.

``I'll... Be slow.`` He always says that. But he can not help the roughness come into play the moment you get used to having him inside you.

You shiver as his head presses against your folds, hiss as it's slowly getting past the cold surface and into the warmth your insides bring. You hear him let out a grunt of his own. The shakiness of his hands on your hips calms the arch your back has been put into.

Katakuri pushes in with slow motions.

He tries to distract you will little strokes up and down your arched back.

You try to not tense up, you really do, but his fingers weren't enough for you to have been ready for his cock. It has that extra length and thickness his fingers weren't capable of having.

The sting leaves you panting and watery-eyed.

Katakuri looks down at you, completely stopping his actions when the walls around his girth close his pathway to bliss.

He lets you relax and adjust to his length. Looking at your face when you wipe your not-yet-spilled tears. Feeling the walls grip and loosen around him makes him close his eyes, ignoring the sparks of pleasure that are signaling him to just rut into you. He turns his face back to you, opening his eyes.

Katakuri doesn't ask you to relax, he knows you're already doing that and he knows you'll signal him to move onward, there is no need to remind you of what's obvious. So he stays quiet, humming and touching you elsewhere across your body, a gentleness he didn't know was capable of, coming forward and dripping honey over your pain, sugarcoating it with his lips that are kissing up your neck.

You put your hands over his shoulders, feeling the pain go away only for it to be replaced by numbness. calming down you nod your head against his scarred cheek.

``You can go on... Now.`` And he does. Slowly and surely with the help of the previous round. He bottoms out.

Your walls surround him, while his grunts surround your head. Both of you stay still for a moment, him going back to kissing your shoulder while you hug his neck, lost in ecstasy.

The world is summed down to only him and you, even if you are running your eyes on the walls of the room, you're still breathing in his leftover cotton cologne, lingering on his skin for just a bit longer.

He starts moving, god he starts moving.

Rocking into you slower than ever, stickiness in your crotch area goes unnoticed. The feeling of him moving and dragging the pleasure away only for him to slide back in, adding the rubbing against your clit with his shortened pubes is soul-shattering in a pleasing way, making your brain mush and your mouth full of unholy sounds.

Sweat dribbles down the side of his face still buried in your shoulder. He is not a man who leaves hickeys. Even though It's impossible since he can't exactly hurt you, although he enjoys leaving marks with anything else, they don't last long, only a couple of minutes before it's back to the way your skin was. But he likes having your signatures on his back especially since that's the only place covered by his jacket in the public.

Even now you leave tiny trails with your nails on his back, not strong enough to break the skin but just enough for them to look like a part of his tattoo gone wild. it just sums up more blood on the southern side of his body, getting him harder than he was before.

It's too much for you when he starts setting a fast pace, his hips meeting yours midway through your grinding, it's too much you tell yourself.

The way he is holding his wide torso with his elbows right beside your shoulders since you didn't let go of his neck since you grabbed it. You feel silly, sticking yourself onto him this way but he doesn't have any complaints. Even if it's too much how you cum yet again with shaky legs and slick dripping down your crack and onto your arched back. Too much of him rocking into you. The mattress below you squicking and rocking with his thrusts. Not only the mattress, but his thrusts also drag your entire body with him, meeting him halfway through his pulling. Too much moaning coming from your side, it's too good.

Too good to tell him to stop.

You can't tell when you came again, the shakiness is blending in with his hips crashing into yours, and you can't tell what is your natural body's doing and what is Katakuri making your body do.

Him finding the sweet spot was the last thing you wanted him to do. You wanted him to find it.

But judging from the electricity hitting you full force again and again and again, making you cry out in all kinds of movements to push him away, you can't be sure.

Katakuri takes advantage of your vulnerability and pulls you away from him so you could relax on the light pink pillow almost swallowing you whole. Allowing him to thrust at a slightly different angle, an angle that also relieves tension from your back.

He straightens himself, now standing on his knees as he looks down at where your bodies are connected, he lands his hands on your hips setting an almost inhuman pace you aren't able to keep up with.

Not with your body and not with your mind.

He pays no attention to your face, you've had enough of that before. Instead, he watches as his hands slam your hips to him, and your poor clit swollen and sad, lies helplessly. Taking him with no problems.

``A-ah little more..`` he moans out. You want to cry at how much he wants to drag this out.

You can tell by the way his hips stutter before calming down completely, going back to the slow pace he did at the beginning.

It's too much.

``Katah-kuri, please!-`` Your voice cuts off by a scream that left your mouth when he slammed his hips back into you unexpectedly.

You can hear him chuckle lightly at your trembling figure lying under him.

It's like he is teasing you and himself.

Tears drip down your face as he repeats it a few times more, before grinding his pelvis when fully entering you cleanly. Your abused cunt beats against the few pubes it has stuck in the wetness surrounding it.

He doesn't let your wobbly legs slide down his thighs, holding them harshly and not letting your bottom parts get away from him.

You can feel it before it comes. The way a vein in his dick starts pulsing and throbbing. Filling your insides to the brim.

You don't look down, instead, you pay attention to Katakuri's Addams apple bobbing up and down in his thick throat accompanied by sweat drops, the way his heavy jaw comes up and down, and the way his eyes are closed and tensed as are his eyebrows. How the other shoulder free of any tattoo (one which you were previously gnawing on) is red colored. It's shiny with spit, tears, and sweat.

It's as far as you get before your heart finally calms down, forcing your eyes to close and your body to pass out, exhaustion finally catching up to you. The last thing you see is a blurry figure of Katakuri looking down at you.

His worried voice calls out to you.

And here you thought you could endure a monster's sweet voice.

#Katakuri x wife reader #wife reader #Katakuri x wife!reader #one piece #anime #one piece spoilers #one piece x reader #.my writing.#op katakuri #katakuri x you #katakuri x y/n #katakuri x reader #anime x reader

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muddyorbsblr · 3 months

Text

would've could've should've pt3

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: Loki makes things right with you and your relationship, and Shuri makes a heartbreaking discovery about your past

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 8.5k [prepare drinks & snacks accordingly]

Warnings (spoilers ahead but y'all need these) : 18+ | heavy themes (dubcon hinted at in log reports; a whole portion detailing human experimentation involving drug-induced mental and emotional subjugation); Loki committing crimes (in the name of his bb); angst; Thor's mega-himbo behavior; language [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; soft bf Loki hours

"I do not understand why we must be the ones doing such a menial task, Brother," Loki grumbled, walking through the large aisles of the marketplace that Thor all but dragged him to. "We are Asgardian royalty, and we are gods, we should not have to procure our own supplies."

"Stark says it is important that Midgardians perceive us as more than gods and heroes, Brother," the blond explained. "We do have staff in the Compound tasked to perform these duties for us, yes. But every now and again, there is a rotating schedule wherein we perform them. So that we may lessen the perception that we are a sort of enigma to them that only makes our presence felt when there is crisis. They can see us living our respective lives when we are not saving theirs."

While he could see the logic somewhat, he still wished that he would have been assigned to do this with you instead. It had been a few days since you two got back from your mission in California, and since then he outright refused for you to spend a night alone. And all he wanted at this moment was to finish with this drudgery and make his way back to you.

"This may be menial to you, Brother, but let me offer you the same advice that Jane once gave me when I expressed a similar sentiment on my first time," Thor continued on, walking down an aisle filled with those Pop Tarts that he favored munching on and tossing a half dozen boxes into his cart. "Find a semblance of fun in the exercise. Personally, I see this as my opportunity to include more my favorite Midgardian snacks, since staff don't put nearly enough and they expect me to share them. I get some of Jane's favorites as well."

Loki mulled over the seemingly basic advice, grabbing some of your favorite drink and tossing some extra into the cart. "I think I can begin to see the appeal," he conceded, he was still relieved when they finally crossed off all the items and brought the carts to the register, however.

"And another appeal for the unattached…" his brother murmured, not so subtly nudging him in the direction of the cashier. "This is a prime place to meet some stunning Midgardians who are also performing their own duties."

"Well hi there!" the woman greeted him. "I'm Sandy." She started ringing up the items with a peculiar stance that had him quite uncomfortable where he stood, always angling her body to offer him a few of her breasts down the wide neck of her shirt. "Thor's told me all about you."

"Brother…" Loki hissed the word through gritted teeth. "What in Norns' name are you doing?" Was this oaf trying to play matchmaker with him? Fully knowing that he was already happily committed to another? To you?

"Oh come on, Brother. It's clear that your current entanglement with your mortal will go nowhere if she refuses something as basic as laying with you. You've had many lovers back on Asgard, so I am not mistaken in assuming that this is her issue, and not yours."

"And may I say what. A. Shame," the clerk Sandy interjected. "In my opinion anyone that doesn't know and appreciate what they have don't deserve--"

"Hold your tongue," he snapped at her. "It is not your place to impose your opinion on me, you vile woman." She began to cower where she stood, suddenly becoming shifty in her stance. "You know nothing of her and yet you stand here pretending as if you have the higher moral ground. And you." He turned to address Thor now. "You call yourself my brother and yet you attempt to mastermind me away from my beloved and you haven't the slightest clue who you dare to offend--"

"Brother she is not your beloved. This woman isn't even willing to--"

"This woman's name is Y/N Y/L/N. You have regarded her as someone brilliant and fierce and yet you disrespect her so sickeningly." He gave his brother one last sneer before handing over the little plastic card that held Stark's money. "Not another word from you. I wish to be done with this task as soon as possible."

The clerk nodded wordlessly, the faintest hiccup coming out of her as she tried to temper her fear.

"Brother, my deepest apologies I did not know you and Lady Y/N had been--"

"Not a word from you, either," he hissed. "Lest you have forgotten the extent of my rage, Brother, allow me to put it into perspective. I would repeat my actions from over a decade ago in a heartbeat if it meant making her happy. Worse even, if she asked it of me. And of the two of us, she is the one that deserves your apology. She is the one you so flippantly disregarded with your words and your actions."

His oaf of a brother stayed silent the entire way back to the Compound, only uttering a simple sentiment that attempted to convey the remorse that he was trying to process.

"This time I might actually deserve you stabbing me, Brother."

That got him a singular mirthless chuckle. "I will do much worse if I ultimately lose her."

"Morgan, sweetie, be honest with me and your Auntie Nat. You're not doing your homework, are you?"

The little girl looked up at the two of you from her side of the table with wide eyes feigning innocence, looking the spitting image of her father. "I am, Auntie Y/N. Promise…"

"You sure, baby? Because…I know it's been a while since I went to school. You know, in the Bronze Age?" She let out a tiny bubbly giggle at your antic of placing your hand on your back and hunching over, pretending to hold yourself up by an invisible cane. "But baaaaaack in my day, my teachers would've smacked my hands clean off my arms if I was doing my math homework in crayon."

"This isn't my Math homework, silly Auntie Y/N," she giggled again, putting the crayon down and turning the paper around to push it in your and Nat's direction. "It's for Art class. We're supposed to draw our family. Look it." She threw her little body across the table, reaching out with the eraser end of her pencil to start pointing at the parts of her drawing. "There's Mommy and Daddy, and then Auntie Nat and Gruncle Bucky--"

"Wait hold on, Morgan, what did you call Bucky?" the currently platinum blonde assassin asked Morgan, trying so hard to hold back her amused smile. And failing.

"Well, he's an old man but he doesn't look it, so I got confused if I should call him Uncle or Grandpa, so now it's both. Gruncle."

Nat pursed her lips, her body beginning to shake from the laughs begging to escape her."That makes so much sense, sweetheart," she said, holding her hands up as if in surrender. "Keep going, baby Stark, who else you got in there?"

Morgan pointed to the next couple. "Auntie Wanda and Vision, and then Uncle Thor and Auntie Jane, then me…and right next to me." She pointed her pencil at a final couple, the drawing of her holding the woman's hand. "There's Auntie Y/N and Prince Loki."

A lump formed at your throat, combing back through all of your memories in recent months if there was something that the child might have seen that revealed your relationship to her way too perceptive eyes. "Uhh…why'd you pair me up with Mischief, sweetie?"

"Oh…well, because you're alone all the time, and Prince Loki's alone all the time, and if I drew you both alone it'll just look kinda sad so…I drew him next to you."

You had to fight against the urge to sigh in relief. "That makes sense. That's really thoughtful, baby."

The ding of the elevator effectively stopped the conversation, Morgan bringing the piece of paper back to her side of the table so she could finish coloring in everyone's hair. "We've returned!" Thor's voice bellowed as soon as he stepped into the common area.

"Welcome back," you droned, typing a reply to Shuri's message that just came through. My friend, I found something on these reports that I think you should see first. "Wonder what Shuri found…"

Nat leaned over your shoulder to see the message, her brows furrowing together after giving it a few passes. "You want, I could come with you when you go see her in case it's something real bad, Babes." All you did was nod at her, giving her a soft smile before tilting your head to lean against hers.

She had no idea what went down with you when you were in your late teens, in those years roaming the halls of that campus. Nobody except Loki knew, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, part of you regretted being so vulnerable with him because now he treated you like you were so fragile the tiniest little poke could break you apart.

And you'd spent so long doing everything in your power to make yourself stronger, more guarded. So that no one would ever be able to hurt you again.

"Y/N?" You sat up straight at the sound of Loki's voice filling the common area, the three of you at the table looking at each other with questions in your eyes.

"In here, Mischief," you called back, giving both Nat and Morgan a signal to act normal and stop watching like they were sat in front of the TV with a soap opera playing. You tried to finish up your reports from your mission in California when a familiar large hand placed a can of grape soda next to your water bottle. "Oh…Thanks, Loki." You looked up at him, giving the god a tiny smile before going back to your reports.

What he did next had both the assassin and Stark's daughter dropping their whole schtick of 'acting normal', taking your hand in his and gently tugging you to your feet. He didn't seem to care that there were very curious eyes intently watching on, brushing your hair back to tuck it behind your ear.

"What's wrong?" you blurted out, your heart at your throat from his actions. Before you could say anything else, he closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You melted into his embrace, the gasps and squeals around you blurring into the background.

When he broke the kiss, he pulled you into an embrace, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath, as if he was grounding himself. "I'm so sorry, darling. I've been a terrible partner to you, treating our relationship as if it were a secret to be hidden away. I never meant to--"

"Hey hey shh it's okay…" You wrapped your arms around his neck, doing your best to not sound like you were on the verge of tears. "It's okay, sweetie, you didn't know. And I didn't tell you, so that's on me, too."

"Absolutely not," he grumbled. "No part of this was your fault." He pulled away to frame your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Nothing that ever happened to you was your fault. I love you, little mortal."

"I love you, too, Mischief--"

"Hold up, you're Reindeer Games' girl?"

You pulled away just enough to look over and address Stark, placing your hands over Loki's. "Yeah, Stark…I'm 'prim and prissy'." His face visibly paled at your confirmation, remorse immediately coloring his features. "You got some more genius barbs to throw at me for not sleeping with my boyfriend?" You gave Nat a signal to cover Morgan's ears, which she quickly followed much to the child's visible pouting dismay. "What've you got this time? Tits sagged up? I'm probably dry like the goddamn Sahara in the nether regions? What if there's actually nothing down there and I'm built like a goddamn Barbie doll?"

"Goddammit, I really put my foot in my mouth this time, huh?"

"More like you decided to put all that yoga to good use, bent over and gave yourself a rimjob and then started running your mouth, but sure, Stark. Let's go with that."

Tony flinched at your words, visibly biting his tongue from what was undoubtedly his instinct to dish out some snark just as good as he just got it. "You know what, I totally deserved that. I'm really sorry, jellybean, I never should have said anything."

"As am I, Lady Y/N," Thor spoke up as he joined the rest of you. "I never should have imposed in on your and Loki's life together. He has told me in numerous ways on our way back that my careless actions have jeopardized his happiness, and for that I beg for your forgiveness."

You and Loki shared a look, both of you arguably right for questioning the sincerity of both apologies. Neither of them had any hesitation subjecting either of you to their opinions when they didn't know that they were throwing verbal darts at your head.

Ultimately you decided not to double down on your own barbs. At least until Thor apologized some more for his mega oaf behavior. "And I sincerely apologize for attempting to introduce another woman to my brother in hopes that he'll be lured away from his current partner, truly I had no idea it was--"

"Hold the fucking phone there, Blondie, you what?!" You could feel your blood rushing to your head, all your irritation toward both imbecilic men bubbling all the way up to the surface after Thor's confession.

"It was moronic and--"

"You're damn straight it was moronic," you seethed, your hand itching to risk potentially permanent injuries just to take a swing at the god that pulled the buffoonery. "I get that you want the best for your brother and all that, trust me I want that, too. But you were all the way out of line for that one."

"Yes, I know," he mumbled, his head turned down in visible shame. "Loki if you wish to stab me for my idiocy you're than welcome to--"

"Fuck that, I'm gonna stab you," you seethed, the god next to you holding you a touch tighter and trying to rub small circles into your skin to calm you down some. "This was none of your business. Even back when you didn't know it was me, you were both out of line for the jabs you took at Loki's private life. And honestly if you're so remorseful about it, you owe Bucky an apology, too. Y'all were dogpiling on his girlfriend way before you started going in on me."

With every word that came out of you, it felt as if there was still something completely blocking you from the truth. A question that went unanswered even by you and the memories you held ever since college. Ever since Simon.

"I don't…I don't know why I'm like this," you said more softly this time, turning to Loki and trying to find the words that could convey at the very least what you showed him a few nights ago. "It's been like this since I was a student in that damn campus. I don't know why but every time I've been in a relationship since then, if things start moving…physically, I--"

"Shh darling…" He pulled you into an embrace again, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "You need not elaborate. You were wronged, none of this was your fault."

"Your god is right, my friend," Shuri spoke up, announcing her presence, a grim look on her face as she held her tablet. "I have combed excessively through the reports for the compounds you found in your college building, and I have…distressing news."

"Yeah…Nat and I were about to come find you, Shuri. What'd you find?"

"This will be…quite an uncomfortable question, Y/N, are you certain you wish to discuss this with all this company?"

"They'll find out anyways. Most of them are nosy like that." You threw a pointed look Stark's and Thor's way, both men immediately looking away in shame. "But I suppose we can spare some innocent souls. Morgan, sweetie, go find your mom, we have to discuss bad guy things now."

The little girl pouted but followed your request, making her way to the elevator to go and find Pepper.

"My friend, what can you tell us about your former relationship with Simon Richardson? Only what you remember and what you are comfortable with sharing. We can start there."

Loki led you to sit on the couch, keeping his arm around your shoulders and rubbing up and down your arms to ground you as you started to recall. "He was…kind and sweet. Until he wasn't. It started with him offering the faculty lounge for me to hang out in during my free periods, then…coffees…lunches. The days when I had a class during first period, he'd be there and we'd grab breakfast together. Then came the first dinner together and he kissed me, told me he was falling in love with me."

"Hold up there, jellybean, this Richardson…he was your professor, right?" You nodded at Stark's question. "Add that comment I made about saying hi to your old professors to my list of things I have to make up for then, I'm so sorry, Y/N."

You just shrugged. "As with most of the things you're gonna have to apologize to me for, Stark…you didn't know." You took a sip of your soda before continuing your story. "The next few months after that were…confusing to me. Every time we had a moment alone he was so sweet and doting, always staying close to me, kissing me, regular degular boyfriend things, you know? And then the second someone else would come in the room he…pulls away. Becomes distant and…almost clinically professional. Drops my hand, immediately puts three feet of distance between us. Tells me it's to protect our relationship. That if people found out, they'd take him away from me and I'd be punished somehow. Told me he was protecting me."

Loki placed a soft kiss to your temple, keeping his forehead pressed to the same area as he spoke. "My love, I'm so sorry. My actions toward you in our time together have brought your memories of your time with him up to the surface."

"You didn't know," you sighed, leaning in to his embrace. "I never told anyone and…nobody ever really bothered to stick around to find out what was actually going on with me the second they realized they weren't gonna 'score'." You took a few deep breaths, finally finding a bizarre sort of relief now that you were talking about the memories that plagued and taunted you for so long.

"And when did you two end things?"

You let out a sound between a scoff and a chortle at Shuri's question. "Generous of you think there was a concrete 'end' to things, sweetie." There was a faint whoosh somewhere to your right, the new silhouettes in your peripheral alerting you to Jane's and Wanda's entrance. "Hey, Babes."

They both offered you some form of greetings before pulling up a seat, the Sokovian speaking up first. "Morgan mentioned something about you looking angry and hurt. Something about Thor doing something idiotic?" She addressed the blond god next. "I mean, a bit on brand for you, but really? Introducing Loki to someone that's going to start bad mouthing his partner? Shouldn't you know your brother well enough by now that that'll get you a stabbing? You know…after a thousand and a half years?"

"Wait hold on, you what?" the scientist spoke up, swatting her boyfriend upside his head. "You know that just got you kicked off the prospects on wedding officiant, right?"

"Well considering my brother is no longer King of Asgard, I surmise that the Valkyrie would be the one that performs that particular duty regardless," Loki shot back before turning back to face you, a soft smile gracing his features. "One day, I mean. When you're ready."

"You sure you want that, Mischief? Considering I might just be a lousy non-existent lay after all this?"

"About that…" Shuri spoke up again, prompting you to continue your story.

"Right, sorry. The ending…I suppose that started when he suggested we'd go away for a weekend. Somewhere farther away from campus where we could actually be a couple outside his apartment. We got a hotel room and…I'm sure you can all fill in those particular blanks." Everyone grimaced at the mere thought, looks of sympathy thrown your way from every direction. Loki pressed another kiss to your temple, his embrace pretty much the only thing holding you together. "We spent a few more nights like that over the next few weeks. Then the academic year ended, a new batch of students came in, and one day I got to campus and…someone new was at his arm. He stopped answering my calls, my texts weren't even left on Read. One day I asked him point blank what happened and all he said was I don't know what you mean, Miss Y/L/N. You're not my student anymore."

"Bastard," Wanda hissed. "He should be locked up. Maybe have Strange throw him in one of those mirror dimensions so all he'll see for the rest of his miserable life is his own ugly lowlife mug."

"And even worse, he's still doing this. We saw him in that reunion. Fucker even had the brass balls to exchange words with me like it was no big thing. He had one of his current students clinging to him like a barnacle. Chances are he's gonna do her what he did to me and that girl from so many years ago. And who knows who else. Anyways ever since then, something always felt kind of…fucked up with me. Every time things got too physical with someone it's like my body recoils. Even when I don't mean to it's like…it closes up shop without consulting my heart. Or my brain."

"I may have an explanation for your body's behavior, my friend." Shuri tapped away at her tablet, projecting the screen's contents into a larger holographic rendering in the center of the room, showing you all a photo of one of the compounds you'd come across in the lab. "This is PM-19, a substance that can mentally and emotionally enslave a subject to the closest source of pheromones and leave them more open to be controlled. Manipulated. When the connection between subject and administrator is severed, the effects…well, the reports all say that the effects are varied."

"Varied on what?" Nat spoke up, moving to sit on the other empty seat next to you and grabbing hold of your free hand.

"Potency of the compound in the subject's system," Loki answered through gritted teeth. "They experimented with dosage, form of administration, wear-off time…"

"O-Okay but what does this have to do with my shitty predatory ex?" you butted in, your voice shaky with the fear that you knew exactly where Shuri was going with this.

She flashed a set of log reports next on the screen. "I isolated the reports that took place while you were in your relationship with Richardson," she explained, waving a hand at the screen. "Going on to the reports that reference all test subjects from this period moving forward. I will let you all read at your own pace."

Nat handed you a large glass of water, telling you to down it before going into the reports. Thankfully you heeded her advice, or else your body might have forgotten how to function reading through the various statements.

April 15, 2013 -- Potential test subjects found. Administrators have been granted permission to pursue and administer PM-19 at their own discretion.

April 20, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-A initiated into PM program. Mode of Administration: aerated by means of cologne. Precautions were taken to ensure that Test Subject 13-31-A and Administrator BG were at a safe distance from bystanders that could have been exposed to aerated PM-19

April 22, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-A exhibited signs of withdrawal from engagement. Subject has been administered aerated PM-19 again. If pattern continues, dosage for aerated PM-19 should be every 24-36 hours to sustain potency in Subject's system.

April 30, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-B initiated into PM program. Mode of Administration: ingestion by means of beverage. Administrator MP notes instant shift in 13-31-B's receptiveness and an increased eagerness to comply with Administrator MP's suggestions regarding trivial lifestyle choices.

May 2, 2013 -- Administrator SR has attempted administering PM-19 to potential Test Subject 13-31-C via aerated form through body spray, but 13-31-C has shown no tangible effects. Will administer stronger dosage via ingestion if effects are still negligible.

May 5, 2013 -- Administrator SR has successfully initiated Test Subject 13-31-C into PM program. Mode of Administration: ingestion through beverage and food. Shift in receptiveness is incremental. Will observe effects through continued dosage.

May 7, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-A actively seeks out Administrator BG and displays an obeisance toward him. She seems to rely on his approval of her decisions. Administrator MP has considerable control over Test Subject 13-31-B's food and clothing choices by means of simple suggestions and the slightest form of positive feedback. Administrator MP to proceed with furthering connection with 13-31-B.

May 9, 2013 -- Administrator SR has been continually administering PM-19 to Test Subject 13-31-C via ingestion. She has begun to gravitate toward him during free periods. Administrator SR to proceed with furthering connection with 13-31-C.

May 13, 2013 -- Administrators BG, MP, and SR have been granted permission to administer more potent dosage by means of injection. Will use the campus' free vaccination as the means of delivery.

May 15, 2013 -- Test Subjects from batch 13-31 have been administered PM-19 directly into bloodstream and collectively show visible ardency toward their respective Administrators.

May 20, 2013 -- Test Subjects 13-31-A and 13-31-B showing more agitation when respective Administrators BG and MP are not by their side. Test Subject 13-31-C appears visibly calmer but shows significant internal disquiet when away from Administrator SR.

May 21, 2013 -- Administrator SR has officially begun to engage romantically with Test Subject 13-31-C to observe if she will exhibit the same signs of agitation that Subjects 13-31-A and 13-31-B possess when away from their respective Administrators.

May 25, 2013 -- Administrator BG has severed the connection with Test Subject 13-31-A after significant increase in agitation after having PM-19 introduced to her bloodstream. 13-31-A created a spectacle in Science Building cafeteria and was escorted by Administrator BG to campus clinic. Subject displayed alarmingly elevated blood pressure and was immediately admitted to nearest hospital to be put under HYDRA monitoring until subject recovers.

May 26, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-A has been terminated after waking in hospital and repeatedly threatening to pursue all avenues of action against Administrator BG and put PM project at risk of being brought to public awareness. Action sanctioned by all active Administrators. Administrator BG now evaluating new potential test subjects.

May 27, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-D initiated into PM program. Mode of Administration: ingestion through food and beverage. Administrator BG has been instructed to keep careful watch of 13-31-D and tasked to increase dosage every 3 days and observe waning time. Administering via injection no longer viable due to window closing to guise under free vaccination.

May 30, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-B shows little regard for caution and attempted flagrant display of affection when crossing paths with Administrator MP whilst surrounded by both colleagues and other students. 13-31-B has been thoroughly admonished for her actions.

June 1, 2013 -- Administrator MP began distancing from Test Subject 13-31-B. Subject is now displaying visible signs of distress and is aggressively seeking him out even outside of campus grounds. Increasing frequency in initiating correspondence. Administrator MP expresses concern that 13-31-B's behavior will require intervention if no improvement shows in next 30 days.

June 1, 2013 -- Administrator SR notes increased obeisance in Test Subject 13-31-C since compound PM-19 was introduced to her bloodstream. Administrator SR has been granted permission to proceed with next stage of relationship: Consummation

June 3, 2013 -- Administrator MP has placed a request for the termination of Test Subject 13--31-B after a spectacle in the campus parking lot where subject was shouting at MP for not answering texts and calls. Administrator MP will remain inactive for batch 13-31 and will resume his duties when evaluating for Test Subjects for batch 13-32.

June 6, 2013 -- Administrator BG notes that Test Subject 13-31-D is more aggressive and attempts to initiate contact with BG. Administrator has placed a request to speed up timeline to romantic engagement to observe if 13-31-D will become more submissive and deferential.

June 7, 2013 -- Administrator SR has begun final stage of PM program for Test Subject 13-31-C. No other task will be assigned to him other than observation of 13-31-C's behavior once connection is fully severed. He will resume his duties along with Administrator MP when evaluating for Test Subjects for Batch 13-32.

June 8, 2013 -- Test Subjects 13-31-B and 13-31-D have been simultaneously terminated after 13-31-D disclosed details of relationship with Administrator BG and both subjects agreed to report this behavior to campus faculty board. Only remaining active Test Subject is 13-31-C.

June 13, 2013 -- Frequency in Test Subject 13-31-C's initiation of correspondence after Administrator SR has begun final stage.

June 15, 2013 -- Administrator SR has fully severed the connection for Test Subject 13-31-C

June 20, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-C has been notably absent in classes. Administrator SR has placed a request to send a HYDRA representative to check on 13-31-C's status.

August 20, 2013 -- Test Subject 13-31-C shows signs of detachment from her peers and current relationship. Potential side effect of PM-19 after severance of connection between subject and administrator seems to be physical recoiling upon implication of intimacy. Subject's body seems to perceive this either as a threat or as a breach of her loyalty to Administrator SR.

April 15, 2014 -- Test Subject 14-34-E initiated into PM program. As mentioned in preliminary notes for batch 14-34, test conditions from Test Subject 13-31-C's case will be replicated in hopes of replicating the only surviving case of batch 13-31.

April 22, 2014 -- Unexpected and unaccounted for circumstance occurred. Test Subject 14-34-E shares a class with Test Subject 13-31-C and has asked questions on how to gain better favor with Administrator SR. It seems that test subjects that were connected to the same Administrator are also drawn towards each other.

April 24, 2014 -- Administrator SR initiated contact with Test Subject 13-31-C to extract information about what she may have told Test Subject 14-34-E. 13-31-C remains adamant that no details of their prior involvement were divulged and answers remained strictly academic. Administrator SR's feedback for her elicited positive reaction. It seems even after prolonged period since severing their connection, submissiveness and deference to Administrator SR remains. Hypothesis: If connection is severed at peak potency of PM-19, Test Subject's actions post-severance are subconsciously geared to seek the approval of their Administrator.

April 25, 2014 -- Administrator SR has been instructed to hasten timetable for Test Subject 14-34-E after subject witnessed SR's interaction with Test Subject 13-31-C and created a spectacle demanding to know what his history with 13-31-C was. Noting that subjects may be prone to increased irrational tendencies and paranoia while connection with Administrator is active.

May 1, 2014 -- Administrator SR has placed a request to terminate Test Subject 14-34-E after threats of her escalating him to the faculty board for their involvement. SR notes that 14-34-E has mentioned the existence of video and audio recordings containing indisputable evidence of their interactions. Directors of PM program have considered close monitoring of Test Subject 13-31-C to determine what differs in her case compared to the rest of the test subjects from Batch 13-31 as well as the replication attempt with 14-34-E.

May 2, 2014 -- Test Subject 14-34-E successfully terminated. Her belongings have been incinerated. All potential evidence of involvement with Administrator SR destroyed. Test Subject 13-31-C once again the only surviving test subject under this specific set of test circumstances. Replication of scenario will not be attempted again until further studies have been conducted on 13-31-C. Actions to be taken to closely monitor and intercept hospital records, therapy session notes and/or recordings, and all other documentation that will provide better understanding of 13-31-C's physiological and mental make up.

March 10, 2016 -- Administrator SR has expressed concerns regarding Test Subject 13-31-C becoming a SHIELD Agent. He has been reassured that there is no cause for concern as long as she stays a low to medium ranking Agent and does not become involved in high level operations.

September 16, 2019 -- Test Subject 13-31-C has been put on High Alert List. Her status as an Avenger warrants the action of capture on sight.

August 10, 2020 -- Multiple mentions of jilted former entanglements of Test Subject 13-31-C have surfaced online, detailing a 'frigidness' that the team is confident in surmising is due to the amount of PM-19 in 13-31-C's system when connection between her and Administrator SR was severed in 2013. It would seem that Test Subject 13-31-C's physiological reactions are tethered to Administrator SR's pheromones and can only successfully sever the connection on her end when the source of the pheromones ceases to exist. Or when she does.

November 16, 2023 -- Administrator SR expresses grave concern given Test Subject 13-31-C's current status of being romantically involved with highly dangerous individual Loki, Asgardian God of Mischief.

Your vision began to blur from the tears flooding your eyes as you read the reports over and over again, your mind stubbornly denying what you were seeing on the screen. Test Subject 13-31-C. You'd seen numerous log reports about her when you first perused the files a few days back but it never occurred to you that you knew her much better than you could have ever expected.

She was the girl in the mirror. The one with the haunted gaze and the smile that struggled to reach her eyes no matter how hard anyone tried.

You'd been so haunted by your worries that history would repeat itself and what Simon did to you, discarding you as soon as someone even incrementally younger came along and not giving you a second thought, would happen again the second you gave yourself fully to Loki. And now it turned out that your refusal to let the dark thoughts that plagued you when Simon left you all those years ago take over your life…turned out you haunted him right back.

"There is one more thing," Shuri spoke up, flashing a message on screen that came from Simon himself. "Our duplication of their machine seems able to receive their correspondences in real time. Simon Richardson has begun to explore requesting for termination of Test Subject 13-31-C. He wishes to see you dead, Y/N."

"Over my putrid rotting corpse," Loki seethed, tightening his hold on you. "He won't be able to touch you, my love. I swear it."

"Could you…" you tried to speak through the sobs you were trying to hold back. "Would you be able to send a message back? Make it seem like it's coming from his bosses?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Child's play, my friend. What do you wish to send?"

"I want you to arrange a meeting." You adjusted your hold on Loki's hand, lacing your fingers through his. "And I want you to come with me."

The god raised your joint hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Of course, my love. I would have come with you regardless." He pressed his forehead against your temple again. "I'll never leave your side."

"Okay am I in a position to say that seeing Reindeer Games being affectionate is giving me fucking whiplash?"

"No," everyone collectively said in unison.

"Personally I think it's adorable," Jane quipped. "And I know your brother has a real crappy way of showing it, but we really are happy for you."

"'Tis true, I am happy for you and Lady Y/N, Brother--"

"No no, Macho Barbie, you don't get to talk, either," Nat spoke up, throwing a balled up piece of paper at his head. "If Tony deserves the time out on the steps, you deserve the goddamn dunce cap for your antics."

If there was ever a moment that could solidify beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were practically tailor-made by the Norns for Loki, it was this precise moment here. Watching in the shadowy corner of a room as the culmination of your flair for the theatrics almost eerily mirrored his.

You were sat at a desk situated in the middle of a dark seemingly empty warehouse, with only a single hanging lamp serving as a light source. Positioned in a way that your face was still mostly shrouded in the darkness until you wished to make your identity known.

And in your respective positions, you two waited in silence for Simon Richardson to arrive. The unsuspecting pathetic bastard thinking he would be meeting with the higher ups at HYDRA to rectify the situation that he'd been raising with them regarding the safety of their project now that your status on their watchlist has been raised to the highest alert level due to your relationship with the god.

Loki's enhanced hearing allowed for him to hear the shaky breathing and the faltering steps before the wretch pounded his fist at the entrance. "Showtime," you sighed under your breath, taking a moment before calling out in an accent that vaguely resembled the Valkyrie's, "Enter!"

The professor looked around the warehouse, visibly irritated upon seeing that almost the entire place was pitch black, and made his way slowly toward your desk. When he got close enough, another light switched on, illuminating a rather uncomfortable looking stainless steel chair.

"Sit." He did as you told, nervously running his hands up and down his thighs. A quick whiff in the air told the god that the weak mortal was already sweating bullets and barely any words have even been exchanged yet.

Good, he inwardly seethed. You don't deserve to know peace after the lingering damage that you'd dealt to the woman I love.

"Speak," you commanded, the faintest creak of the leather from your hand gripping the armrest being the only indicator that betrayed your facade of "cool and level-headed".

"Have the council agreed to a course of action regarding Agent Y/L/N? You told me before that you allowed for her to continue on with her life due to being the only survivor of batch 13-31. That her situation fascinated you. But now I fear that she is too dangerous to let live given her current romantic associations with the Asgardian that tried to raze New York."

"You never stated on the request your reasoning," you told him through gritted teeth. "How come you are so intent on the expedience of Subject 13-31-C's termination?"

The fidgeting man let out a nervous chuckle. "All due respect, ma'am but are you new? Maybe you didn't hear me? Her boyfriend tried to lay waste on New York! I don't wanna give her the time to open up to him and realize that the reason she can't get with him in the sack is because of PM-19! Who knows what he'll do to me?"

"Well we can start on breaking every joint in your body as an appetizer," you answered back, dropping your accent and leaning forward to let the light illuminate your face. "And from my understanding, the only way to sever the connection from my end is for the source of the pheromones to cease existing. All I have to do is kill you."

Richardson visibly relaxed in his seat, letting out a haughty chuckle as he tsk'd at you. "Silly girl, you didn't actually think it's that simple, did you?" He stood up, making his way to your desk and slamming his hands down on the tabletop, making you flinch at the sound. "Should've known you really were more beauty than brains. Then again it looks like even that is fading away. You really should use some of that Stark budget to take care of those lines on your face because aging does not become you, sweet thing."

"Whatever remnants of PM-19 I have left in my system physically inhibit me from killing you myself, is that it?"

"Maybe there's still some brain left in you after all," he mused in a condescending tone. He grasped the bottom half of your face harshly, your face twisting in horror as you tried to twist his hand off you, finding that you couldn't. "You can't harm me, sweet Y/N, let alone kill me. You literally don't have it in you." Your form began to visibly tremble in his hold, disgust now coloring your expression as he gave you a once over. "It's just you and me here. Maybe we could take a walk down memory lane. For old time's sake."

"Go to hell," you spat at him, jerking your head away from his hand with a sickening crack that Loki took note of to heal once everything was taken care of here. "And I'm not alone, you sick fuck." Richardson turned around, terror finally entering his eyes once he caught sight of the god's silhouette.

"You can't kill me," he tried to threaten. "You kill me and they'll come after you. All of you."

"HYDRA coming after us?" you quipped, giving Loki a tiny nod as he stepped menacingly closer. "Sounds like a regular Tuesday, doesn't it, sweetie?"

"To quote my brother, at least make it a challenge for me." He couldn't help but let his mouth stretch into a wicked grin as he watched the pathetic man start to shake where he stood.

"You kill me and that won't stop the project," he blurted out, most likely in a final desperate attempt at some form of a bargain. Or a threat. "Aren't you hero types all about the greater good and all that shit?"

"Normally we are," Loki answered, a dagger materializing in his hand in a flash of green. He grabbed the back of Richardson's head, poising the blade at his throat. "But I'm not a hero. Not today. Not for you." He pressed the blade harder against his throat, looking to you for his cue to follow through. You gave him all the answer he needed with a little nod of your head, wincing from the minor injury you'd given yourself just moments earlier. "As far as you're concerned, I'm the god you made an enemy of the moment you laid your grimy hands on the woman I love."

He could have made it quick, almost relatively painless, but after the prolonged impact that his vile actions had on you, it would have been a mercy if he were allowed to shuffle off this mortal coil with little suffering. And Simon Richardson was undeserving of mercy. He ensured that he felt every agonizing second that the blade dragged across his neck, and that he stayed lucid until the last possible moment that the light faded from his eyes.

When the late professor's body went limp and fell to the ground, you doubled over in what seemed like shock, bracing yourself by slamming your hands down on the tabletop, your arms shaking with the effort of holding yourself up. The god was by your side in a heartbeat, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you upright.

"What is it, my darling? Are you alright? What are you feeling?"

"I feel--" you tried to say between shallow breaths. "It's like…I just won tug of war."

"Is that…is that good, sweetheart?" He found it rather difficult to tell with the panic setting into him from your shortness of breath. He rubbed circles on your back, trying to guide you to take deeper breaths and standing upright on your own.

"It's like I got all the air knocked out of me from being flung to the ground because the other side finally let go, and I'll probably have a few battle scars, but at the end of it all…Yeah. It's good. So good." You suddenly stood up straight, turning to face him and throwing your arms around his neck. "It feels like I can finally breathe."

You pulled away, pushing back locks of his hair and looking over the blood that spattered across his features. There was such an innocent, almost disoriented look in your eyes. Something that eerily reminded him of how he felt when he was finally free of the mind control the mad titan Thanos had him under. As if he was trying to find his footing again. Learning how to live in his skin and mind without the presence of another lurking in the darkest corners.

Freedom, he realized. You were free.

"Come on," you told him, smiling as you reached for his hand, your whole hand engulfed so easily by just his palm. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"You need not trouble yourself, little mortal. I can simply wave it all away--"

"I want to," you insisted, starting to tug on his hand. He relented rather quickly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth from your suddenly playful nature. Was this what you were like before you were shackled by that repugnant drug?

And just when he thought he couldn't possibly fall even deeper in love with you.

You led him to the car where Hogan was waiting for you both. Loki gave him a singular nod and he spoke into an earpiece calling for someone to dispose of Richardson's body. When you were both settled in to the back seat, you tore a strip off the shirt you were wearing, dousing it with water to start wiping away at the blood on his face.

"We have rags here for exactly that purpose, Y/L/N," Hogan quipped. "You didn't have to go all book boyfriend."

"Okay first, what have you been reading that you know that reference because I want recs. And second, I have no idea how Tony organizes stock in this car, and I didn't wanna wait. You're more than welcome to put the divider up if it makes you uncomfortable, Happy."

The bodyguard put his hands up, as if conceding in the exchange. "Fair enough, fair enough. I'll send you a list of those books when we get back. Right now I'm just gonna put up the divider, let you two get some rest. I'll let you know when we're at the Compound."

"Thanks, Happy. Maybe send it through FRIDAY. Just to my tablet. Morgan likes playing with my phone and I don't want my goddaughter near those books until well after drinking age."

You'd finished wiping away the blood from Loki's face moments after the divider fully went up, giving the god a playful satisfied little smile before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"There you go, all done." You settled easily into his embrace as he wrapped his arm around you, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together. "I know that…now that he's dead, the PM-19 doesn't have a hold on me anymore but…mentally…" Your brows knitted together, your frustration visible as you struggled to find the words.

"It still feels as if there's a lingering presence in your mind," he offered, his heart aching for you when he heard your sniffle as you nodded against his shoulder. "I'm all too familiar with that feeling, my love. I wish I could tell you it goes away completely with time but…I cannot be too sure. Some days will be better than others, as if the presence has been kicked into the farthest darkest corners of your memories but…they remain."

"Right now it feels like it's in a car just behind us so…doesn't feel too far." You tilted your head to look up at him, relief flooding him when he saw in your eyes that you no longer seemed as distant. As if whatever journey you would embark on towards healing the wounds that Richardson left you, you knew and you welcomed the notion of not going through it alone. "I hate to say it, Mischief but…killing him didn't kill the fears he left behind."

You did not need to say more; he could surmise which fear you meant. The one he saw when you allowed him into your memories. The fear of being replaced as soon as you laid with him. The fear of leaving him dissatisfied and forcing his hand to look to another to fulfill what you couldn't.

Perhaps even a fear of being touched altogether.

"I want you to know that I am here for you, little mortal." He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, and another to your jaw, using his seiðr to heal the slight fracture from your altercation with that wretch of a professor. "Always." Another kiss, featherlight, to your lips. "You need never worry of pressure coming from me, I swear it."

"Maybe a little pressure wouldn't be too bad," you mumbled against his lips, kissing him back a with a touch more passion than he'd ever seen coming from you. "Maybe just…baby steps?" Your next action stole every bit of breath from his lungs, keeping his gaze while you moved his hand, placing it on the bared skin of your stomach. There was only the slightest tremor in your breath as he tentatively caressed your skin, but you no longer flinched away.

"Baby steps," he breathed out, pulling you closer to his side. You nestled your head into the crook of his neck and he felt you steadily succumb to your exhaustion, relaxing against him.

Loki finally allowed himself a moment of rest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before closing his eyes and leaning back against the headrest. It would be a long and arduous journey as you healed from the prolonged damages that your time with Richardson wreaked upon you, but he would be with you throughout every step. Through every nightmare, every frustration, and ultimately every victory.

And then perhaps one day you both would wake and the step to be taken would be toward an altar.

But for now the god was more than content exactly where he was, holding you close with his hand on your skin, following at whichever pace you would be comfortable taking.

A/N: Another request from the pile done! 🎉🎉 Next up is gonna be a fluffy lil thing that I'm gonna turn into an outtake for one of the first stories I wrote, 'a heart like yours' 🥹

But before we get to that, we've got a good bit of RTC and OLTK and 'the final Lady Sharpe' coming…and whatever else my silly lil writer brain decides to start on 😳👀

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @cabingrlandrandomcrap

#loki angst #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #muddyorbs writes #fic requests #500 follower celebration

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wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

September Part 1

Austin, 2003

summary: Joel comes over on his lunch break for not-birthday sex.

rating: E (18+!! This is smut with some plot. Oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, TLOU spoilers, slight angst, emotions)

pairing: Young Joel Miller/f!reader

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: Yeah, the show got me in my Joel feels. I think this will be two parts. Thank you to @invisibleismyname for betaing, @juletheghoul for giving it a look over, and @perropascal for coming to my aid last night to let me know it was okay. Love you all!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs appreciated!

Part 2 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

“Oh god,” you moan, staring down at the man’s face between your legs. The bed sheets are soft under your bare body, big hands holding your thighs open, hearing the obscene slurping sounds as he ate you out like a man starved. “I’m so close, Joel,” you continue.

His eyes are on yours, “You gonna come for me, baby?” The words are muffled into your sex. Joel sucks your clit between his lips, making you gasp his name, your body alight in pleasure, feeling your muscles tightening, your hand grabbing onto his hair for something to hold onto, keeping yourself up with your other elbow digging into the mattress.

He groans when you tug on the brown waves of hair, your back arching when he presses two thick fingers easily into your slick entrance, reveling in how they stretch you, his tongue swiping through your folds as he pumps his digits.

You were so fucking close, could feel your orgasm just in reach.

Crooking his fingers, he searches for a moment until he hits something that has you shouting his name, your body tensing as white-hot pleasure pushes you towards your release. He pulls your clit back into his mouth, while focusing his attention on rubbing that spot, and you’re gone, euphoria exploding in your veins as you come with a silent cry, falling back onto the bed.

“There it is,” Joel says, his fingers still working. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

You ride out your high, pussy spasming around his digits, breathing hard.

It takes you a second before you can speak, your eyes open, sitting up on both elbows to see the bottom half of Joel’s face wet with your slick, a smile on his lips, his naked shoulders so broad and golden.

“You’re too fucking good at that,” you pant.

He chuckles lowly, taking his fingers out of you and kissing your thigh.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yes. Now, how much time do we have before your lunch break is over, because I need your dick inside of me, and I don’t think I can wait until Sarah goes to bed tonight for your birthday sex,” you reply, pulling your lip between your teeth.

His eyebrow quirks.

“This isn’t my birthday sex?” he asks.

It was just your luck that Joel was doing a job in your neighborhood, and on lunch, he’d come over, his mouth on yours the moment you’d opened the front door, him stripping you as he walked you to the bedroom. He’d kissed you ravenously the whole way, like it’d been on his mind all day, and he wanted to taste every inch of your mouth, until he got you onto the bed, where he dropped to his knees beside it to eat your pussy.

“No,” you answer, shaking your head. “The birthday sex involves lingerie, me giving you the sloppiest blow job, and letting you fuck me however you want.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Lingerie?” he asks thickly.

You smirk.

“Oh, yes. Something I think you’ll really like—time, Joel. Do we have time to fuck?”

You’re needy and wanting him inside of you, wanting to feel him split you open on his dick.

“Fuck, right,” he says. You watch as he leans back to pull his Nokia from his pocket, eyes squinting as he reads the time before tossing it haphazardly onto the bed.

You giggle when he starts moving quickly, him getting up with a groan, seeing his hard cock bulging against the zipper of his jeans.

“I can get you off again before I have to go,” his voice is deeper, his hands working to unbuckle his pants and get them undone, your heart thumping hard in your chest when he pushes his jeans and boxers down, freeing his throbbing length.

Your mouth waters at seeing the reddened tip of him glistening with precum, your cunt clenching at his thickness—foreplay was essential when it came to fucking Joel, him needing to open you up to be able to take him.

He grabs the meat of your thighs, pulling you to the bed’s edge, his eyes locked on your pussy, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

He spits on his fingers, using them to wet his dick, pumping it a few times before sliding it through your wetness, a moan falling from your lips when he nudges your clit, meeting your eyes when he notches himself at your entrance.

“You gonna give me one more?” he asks.

Seeing the hunger in his gaze has you fighting not to let a moan break free from your throat, your cunt already pulsing, wanting to feel him inside you. You know for a fact that he’d get you off again, your body already thrumming in anticipation.

You nod your head.

“Fuck me, Joel.” His eyes are so dark you can’t see any of the familiar brown remaining. “And finish inside me, I wanna feel it.”

He groans at your words, eyes closing for a moment.

“Best fuckin’ birthday,” he rasps.

He starts pushing in, and your back arches, moaning as he stretches you open, filling you inch by inch, your fingers digging into the bedspread. You’d been dating for over a year, and no matter how wet he got you, there was always a slight burn that you loved.

“God, you feel so good inside me,” you moan, feeling so fucking good when he bottoms out, his hands gripping your thighs hard, his eyes on where you were both joined.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. “Fuckin’ love bein’ inside you.”

He pulls out halfway and slowly pushes back in, him watching his cock moving in and out of you knowing it was shiny with your arousal. His pace starts out languid as he lets you get used to him before he speeds up, it feeling like electricity is flowing through your body with every push and pull of his hips.

You’re on cloud nine with how he’s fucking you, his grunts and your moans filling the room with the wet slap of his hips, hearing your pussy taking him over and over again. He’s so thick and hard, your cunt weeping around him, his rhythm pushing the air from your lungs with how he’s pounding into you, your skin hot and buzzing, him working you up as the pleasure heightens.

You get louder the closer you get to your release.

“Scream my name, baby,” he says through gritted teeth. “Want the fuckin’ neighbors to hear how good I make you feel.” His hand leaves your thigh, licking his thumb and pressing it to your sensitive little clit, moaning his name as a jolt runs through you. “Want you to come for me,” he continues. “Want another one.”

Your body is winding up, his cock spearing into you over and over again, feeling like you were going to snap at any second, your pussy fluttering, chanting his name with your eyes squeezed shut, feeling so good.

“Open your eyes, baby. Let me see you come.”

You do as he says, staring into his dark ones, the skin of his neck and chest flushed and glistening with sweat, his lips slightly parted, brows furrowed.

“Come for me,” he orders.

His order is your undoing, all of it coming to a head; his thumb, his cock, the way he was looking at you like you were the only woman in the world, it all sending you over the edge with a cry of his name, your pussy clenching around him hard enough to make his hips pause.

“There we fuckin’ go,” he groans. “So fuckin’ good to me.”

Pleasure was radiating through your body, Joel working into you again, his thrusts wetter from your release as he extended your high and chased his own.

When you catch your breath, you speak, “You fuck me so good, Joel.” His breathing is shaky, seeing his eyes shut, looking like he’s in pain with his rhythm not as steady as before. “You gonna come for me?” you ask through heavy breaths. “You gonna fill me up? Fuck me full of you, baby?”

The groan he lets out is low and long, his hips stuttering.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he says through his teeth.

His hands grab onto your legs, hoisting them up onto his hips as he leans forward, sucking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and making you moan as pleasure shoots to your pussy.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you pant, pushing your fingers into his sweat-damp hair.

His thrusts get short and shallow, his head moving up to look you in the eyes.

“I love you,” he says, kissing you hard, knowing he was close with how desperately his tongue licks into your mouth and tangles with your own. It doesn’t take much longer for him to finally push in deep, Joel raggedly groaning into your mouth as he comes, feeling his cock jerk and the wet pulse as he fills you.

He moves to nuzzle his face into your neck, feeling the sweat on his chest against your own, him panting hot breaths into your skin, while you rub your fingers through his hair, scratching lovingly at his scalp, hearing him hum happily.

You stayed like that for minutes, basking in the post-coital bliss.

“Happy birthday, babe,” you finally say, kissing his hair.

He lifts his head, giving you a boyish grin.

“Thank you, baby.” He kisses you sweetly.

When you break the kiss, you ask, “What time do you want me to come over tonight?”

His smile turns to a frown, him sighing as he looks away.

“I’m pullin’ a double—promised Sarah I’d be home by nine and that I’d bring a cake.”

“Well, I’ll just keep Sarah company after school, and we’ll go get you a cake, so you don’t have to worry about it,” you reply, kissing the tip of his nose.

He smiles crookedly.

“Sarah would love that.”

He’d been nervous about introducing you to Sarah, with her mom being out of the picture, but the two of you had gotten along swimmingly, and you absolutely adored her and she you.

He kisses you tenderly.

“I don’t want to leave,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Beeping sounds on your bedside table, your work pager going off.

“Shit,” you say, Joel already reaching to grab it for you. You take it. “Goddammit,” you groan.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“There’s an emergency at the clinic, and I have to go in. Hopefully, I’ll be done before Sarah gets home.”

His hand strokes your cheek, him looking you deeply in the eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. If you do, then great, she’d love to spend time with you. If you’re there late, just head to the house when you’re done.”

“Okay,” you reply. “I’ll try to be quick. Happy birthday, Joel.”

He smirks at you.

“Thank you for the not-birthday sex.”

You laugh.

“I promise the actual birthday sex will be better.”

He leans in to kiss you.

“I thought this was pretty fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips.

You hum in the back of your throat, your hands cupping his cheeks.

“It was, but it can be better.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue into your mouth and kissing the breath from your lungs.

“Tommy, we gotta go to her house!” Joel shouts, looking at his brother in the driver's seat.

Fear is curling in his gut, Sarah safe, him not hesitating to kill a woman to protect her, and now he’s panicking because he hadn’t been able to reach you with the phones being dead. His priorities had been to get to Sarah, then find you.

“Okay, okay,” Tommy replies, the tires screeching as he sharply turns a corner. “She’s over by the job site, right.”

“Yes, next street over.”

His heart’s pounding a mile a minute in his chest, sirens, and explosions sounding in the distance. He can’t believe what’s going on, how the world’s going to shit before his eyes.

“Daddy, is she okay?” Sarah asks, taking him from his thoughts.

He turns his head to look over the seat at his daughter, seeing the fear on her face, and he wants to take it away from her, hating she was having to live through this, having to see the things she’d seen.

“I’m sure she’s okay, baby girl,” he replies, doing his best to sound reassuring, but his guts were churning, thinking the fucking worst because he wasn’t sure, not with what he’d seen tonight, and he's so fucking scared. “She should be safe at home by now.” He hoped she was, was praying that she’d left the clinic and made it home, which was why she wasn’t at his house. God, she better be okay. He couldn’t lose her. She’s the best thing to happen to him in a long time, wanting to spend his life with her, and had planned to ask her to move in tonight when she came over. Sarah loved her, he loved her, fuck, he needs her to be safe.

Sarah distracts him with questions about what is going on, him and Tommy answering the best they can but both having barely any idea, passing houses on fire, people running, police cars racing towards something.

“Turn right here. It’s her street,” Joel says, his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest, his brain chanting over and over, please, be okay, please, be okay.

Something has the night sky lit up, and his stomach plummets when they turn down your street.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he murmurs.

“Is that?”

“Stay in the truck, Sarah,” Joel orders, not bothering to answer Tommy as he jumps out of the vehicle before it’s even fully stopped.

Hours ago, he’d been with you here. He’d kissed you goodbye, told you he loved you before he left, and now the house was engulfed in flames, his eyes burning, the heat hitting him, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

Were you in there?

“Joel!” Tommy shouts, him jogging to reach him.

Joel’s frantic mind whirling, looking at his brother.

“I need to see if she’s in there,” he says, already moving, but Tommy grabs him and stops him in his tracks.

“You can’t go in there,” he reasons. “I’m sure she made it out. She’ll be okay. We need to get out of town—get Sarah someplace safe, then we can try and find her. I know how much she means to you, but we can’t do much right now.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, hitting his thigh. He presses his hands to his face. “Shit, you’re right.” He looks at Tommy again. “We need to get the fuck out of here—need to get Sarah out of here. Fuck,” he says again, tears brimming in his eyes. “I love her, man,” his voice cracks on the last word. “I can’t lose her, not after…” He sucks in a breath.

“Not after Sarah’s mom,” Tommy finishes for him, rubbing his shoulder. “Yeah, I get it. Let’s get somewhere safe, then we’ll figure shit out and find your girl.”

“Okay,” Joel replies, nodding his head. “Sarah’s safe. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You’d gotten out.

Barely.

Halfway to the clinic in the city, something deep down told you not to go—an instinct, and so when it was safe to do so, you were doing a u-turn in the middle of the two-lane highway to head back to Austin, planning to go wait at Joel’s house for Sarah.

You must have run over a nail or something because your tire went flat, finding yourself on the side of the road, trying to change it out, annoyed when you realized your spare was flat, too.

Miles were between you, Austin, and San Antonio, your cellphone not picking up a signal to call a tow truck.

No one stopped to help you.

No one stopped to offer you a ride when you started walking back towards home.

The military aircrafts screaming across the skies had frightened you, many police vehicles flying down the highway towards the city, realizing something was going on, worrying about Joel and Sarah.

To your dismay, a gas station you’d come across was closed, and the payphone outside not working.

Hours you spent walking, hours you spent hoping the two people you loved most were okay, wanting to get to them as soon as possible, trying to stop any car that drove by you with no luck.

Chaos awaited you when you arrived in town with the dark sky as a backdrop, hearing screaming, sirens, explosions, knowing you weren’t safe, and hiding from anyone who came near.

Joel’s house was empty, the elderly neighbor dead outside, and you feeling so fucking scared, your only option being to find a car and get as far away as possible, knowing deep down that Joel would’ve done the same to keep Sarah safe, and that gave you the strength to walk through the Adler’s open front door, find the car keys hanging in the kitchen, and start driving.

You’d made it out, hoping and praying that somehow Joel would find you, that he and Sarah were okay.

He didn’t find you.

You never found out if they made it out.

Days turned into weeks, turned into years of surviving and using your medical skills to get by and eventually join the Fireflies.

Joel Miller never found you in 2003.

But twenty years later, you found him in a Firefly hospital.

Part 2 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

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#joel miller/reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #young joel miller #Joel miller fic #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction

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