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sporadicthingcollection · 3 months

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The Unskinny Bop (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: You're a really good cook and that's most of the problem. The rest of it is that he's too weak-willed to resist a treat right in front of him. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~6.1k Warnings: Body insecurity (male and female), cunnilingus, masturbation, PiV sex A/N: Dad Bod Buggy my beloved

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She's playing all night And the music's all right Mama's got a squeeze box And Daddy never sleeps at night

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It's his own damn fault, really.

He's the one who charmed the pretty diner cook — that’d be you — into joining his crew. It was an easy sell. You get off of the little podunk island you’re stuck on and he gets those delicious little puffy pastry things every morning.

What he didn’t expect was how well you made everything else. He's had to let his pants out three times in two months because of it.

Fluffy pancakes, perfectly slung hash, and a pie-looking thing with eggs and vegetables and cheese you called a “keesh” for breakfast. Sandwiches stuffed with veggies and meat, piles of pasta tossed in rich sauce, and thick slabs of juicy steak for dinner. Not to mention the mountains of snacks and treats in between.

He came to realize that food is a key aspect of your personality. It's just what you do. A dog chases its tail, Richie pushes things off of tables, and you flit around the deck like a pastry pixie, abducting people into the galley for taste-testing.

Like right now.

His only warning that you're coming is a chirped “Captain!” before he's yanked through the door. He doesn't even have time to react before you've shoved a spoonful of something into his mouth.

He's not surprised. You do it to everyone who walks in. Food is how you show affection.

“Whaddya think?” you ask.

He swallows it too quickly to make a judgment, but it's sweet and that's all he needs to know. “Tasty.”

Every time you smile, he swears a flashbulb goes off somewhere. “Good,” you say. “It'll be even better tomorrow.”

He doesn't even bother to hide the whine. “What?”

“They're icebox pies, silly goose,” you say. “You gotta let ‘em chill.”

Another thing about you is that you're a tease. Form-fitting blouses done up just a button too short and your hair pulled back to show off your soft shoulders. A sweet little wink and a touch of the shoulder as you place a plate in front of him. And now feeding him something delicious only to tell him he has to wait until tomorrow to have more.

Your fingers snapping in front of his face jolt him back to the present. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon,” you say.

Does he wanna lick the spoon? What kind of question is that? He plucks it from your hands. “Is the sky blue? Do bears shit in the woods? Am I the captain?”

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “Gonna stick these in the big cooler and I'll be right back for the other,” you say.

Carefully, you pick up two of the three foil-covered pie tins resting on the counter and turn on your heel.

He watches you closely as you round the corner and out of sight. Such a nice soft ass you've got. He desperately wants to grab it, but the one time you got goosed, you slugged the guy so hard he was out cold for the rest of the day.

Something pink, creamy, and flecked with seeds coats the wooden spoon. He drags his tongue along the back of it and--

Oh. Oh, that is good.

His taste buds scream in ecstasy. The slightest little moan escapes his lips. For the briefest of moments, he thinks it's better than sex and his cock twitches, but he regains his sense of self before going completely mad.

He licks and licks and licks until every little drop of pink, sweet, creamy filling is gone.

Frustration bubbles in his chest. Waiting all night for this is gonna suck. Especially since you probably won't be whipping it out for breakfast.

He is captain, though. He could order you to give it to him. But you'd almost certainly laugh in his face and he really, really doesn't want that.

The shimmer of foil catches his eye. The third pie sits on the counter. Untouched. Uneaten. Mocking him in its creamy deliciousness.

He looks around. You're nowhere to be seen.

...maybe just a little bit.

He scrapes barely half a spoonful from the top. Not enough to be noticeable, just enough to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Mmm. Smooth. Thick. Sweet. Fruity. Delicious.

...a little bit more can't hurt. Then he can wait until tomorrow.

He gets a piece of the fruit itself this time and the squirt of juice on his tongue is enough to make him spoon up another dollop. And then another. And then another.

This is why your pants are so tight, his inner monologue chides. This is why you need a new belt. This is why you wear that thing around your waist. Goddamn hedonist.

They're not that tight, he retorts. And they wouldn't be at all if you weren't such a damn good cook. It's all your fault for putting delicious food in front of him and looking so pretty while doing it.

He turns to lean against the counter, only to stop dead.

You're standing there, eyes wide and brows raised. You point at him, then at the pie tin, then back at him. “Are you... Eating the...?”

“No,” he says quickly. He realizes he's holding the pie tin. “No.”

Something odd glints in your eyes as you approach him. Gingerly, you take the pie and the spoon from his hands. He lets you. You step even closer.

You're so close to him, close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of your breasts. Hell, you're so short compared to him that he can see straight down your shirt.

His heart races. What are you going to do? Throw it out? Throw him out? Punch his lights out? Never speak of this again?

To his amazement, you do none of those things. Instead, you spoon up a bit more of the pie filling and raise it to his lips. You blink up at him with big doe eyes.

He looks between you and the spoon a few times. This can't be right. You should be furious. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's forgotten as you shove the spoon in his mouth.

Why are strawberries so delicious? Why is he so weak? Why are your breasts so warm and squishy against him?

He swallows it and, as he opens his mouth to breath, you shove another spoonful in. It's just as good the twentieth time.

You offer him another. And another. And another. He accepts them all.

Until he goes to take another and you pull it away. He frowns at you. You pull it back farther and farther. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand closer. You resist, but he's spent every day of his life trimming sails and hauling cargo.

He gets the spoon into his mouth and claims his prize with a smirk.

That glint in your eyes turns into a blaze. You drop the pie tin and spoon and they hit the floor with a clatter. Pulling your wrist from his grip, you grab him by the cheeks and yank him into a kiss.

He yelps against your lips and you take the opportunity to shove your tongue between them. Licking, lapping, pressing your soft, warm body right up against his.

Only a eunuch could resist this.

He kisses you back with the same fervor, grabbing your ass to lift you up a bit and it's so soft and pliant and perfect that he can't help but dig his fingers in.

Oh, it's everything he dreamed it would be. Your warm lips moving against his, your slick tongue dancing in his mouth, your soft palms gripping his jaw.

You've lapped up all the lingering sweetness in his mouth by the time he runs out of breath. He pushes you away and you whimper, your eyes wide and your shoulders heaving up and down.

Deprived of oxygen, he says something completely, absolutely, utterly brain dead. “Can I touch your tits?”

Instead of slapping him, you nod so hard your updo shakes loose. Curly strands fall in your face.

He blinks. “Wait, really?” You nod harder. “You sure?”

Something in you snaps. He can see it in your eyes. You grab him by the hand and damn near drag him out the door.

A quick trip up the stairs and across the main deck and he's pushing open the door to his quarters. You bustle past him and, once the click of the lock sounds, you grab him by the collar and yank him into another kiss, just as wet and desperate as the last.

He barely has enough time to shuck his coat about you throw him onto the bed, clambering atop him. You're a bit heavier than he expects. Not that he says that to your face, but you’re so light on your feet that he was starting to think you were filled with cotton candy. You're certainly sweet enough.

You yank his hat from his head and toss it aside. His bandana follows and his hair falls around his shoulders.

You suck in a breath. “So pretty.”

He shrugs. “Thanks-- mmph.”

He’s silenced by you standing on your knees to pull his hair out of its pigtails. This requires you to stick your tits in his face and oh my god they're like big marshmallows you smell like cinnamon.

He can't help himself. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, breathing deeply. So warm, so soft.

You giggle and the vibration makes his face tingle. You pull away to fiddle with your blouse buttons. “Wanna know a secret?” you whisper.

“Is the secret boobs?” Wow, what the hell was that? He needs to stop talking.

Lucky for him, you grin. You open your blouse and a whole lot more than he was expecting spills out. You toss the blouse to the side and plant your hands on your hips. “Va-va-voom.”

He's speechless. Shaken. Struck utterly dumb by the sight before him. All he can do is pull off his gloves and take them in his hands, pushing them, weighing them, squeezing them. There’s just… so much. Round, squishy, bouncy, threatening to surge right out of your lacy bra.

“I am but one man,” he mumbles.

That makes you giggle and that makes them jiggle. Like two sacks of...like a pair of...

...he can't think of a metaphor that isn't unpleasant, so he just sticks his face in there again before something else stupid comes out of his mouth. You laugh even more and it vibrates against his cheeks and his -- that... -- and if God struck him down at this very second he would die a happy man.

You let him linger a moment before throwing your weight forward to push him onto the bed. He whimpers like a kicked puppy as you pull away.

You nibble your lip and knit your brow up as you fumble with his belt. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

He's flattered, but it's the only thing keeping his stomach in check. That can't come off yet.

He takes your hands in his own. “What's the rush, beautiful?” he says. He brings them to his lips, first one, then the other. He gently kisses your knuckles, your palms, your wrists. “This is your show. We got all night.”

You're cute when you huff. You're even cuter when your face screws up into a pout. You yank your hands away and plant them on your soft hips. “Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?” you whine.

That throws him for a loop and a half. You've wanted him too? Someone as clever and cute and talented as you wanted... him? He's not used to that. Not used to that at all.

He's stunned just long enough for you to get his belt open. You move on to his vest straps next, making quick work of those. He sucks his stomach in just as you pull it open.

Your eyes widen, and you break into a grin as they sweep up and down his torso. “Oh, hell-o,” you say, voice breathless.

He's bright red, he just knows it. “Hi,” he replies dumbly. He hopes the strain in his voice isn't too obvious.

You grin even wider. Your fingers ghost up his sides -- thank God it's his feet that are ticklish -- right up to his pecs. You give them a squeeze, not unlike how he palmed your breasts a few moments ago. The slightest of squeaks escapes him.

“I knew you were hiding something good,” you say. You give his nipples a tweak -- he squeaks louder -- and trail your fingers down to his waistband. “Let's see what else you've been keeping from me.”

He knows you're talking about his dick. He panics all the same.

He shoots a hand out to kill the light -- that should buy him some time -- and throws his weight into flipping you over. You squeal as he pins you to the bed and yanks your pants off.

And then he realizes. Your breasts? They're proportional.

Beneath him is the most lovely expanse of body he's ever seen. Soft and warm and squishy and made of convex curves that flow from gentle arms and smooth shoulders right into a pair of plump hips and shapely thighs.

He can't form words. He can't form thoughts. All he can do is stare with his mouth dropped open. What else can you do when you're in the presence of the divine?

And then he sees your face. Your eyes wide and unsure as they dart around the room. Your lips pressed together into a terse line.

“What?” he asks.

The line scrunches to the side. “I'm bigger than I ought to be, I know,” you say. You sound as if you've said it a thousand times.

He gets mad. He can't help it. It's what he does. “Are you shitting me?”

You flinch a little, though more out of surprise than fear. “N-No, I don't--”

He wants to say so many things. About how this is perfection. About how you are the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid eyes on. About how this is everything he's ever wanted in life. How you're everything and you shouldn't be so damn sheepish.

But he can't get it out. All that comes out is a raspy, rude, “Shut the fuck up.”

You stare at him in shock. And not the fun shock. It's the kind where you're not sure if you've stepped on eggshells or not.

Fuck it. No time for words. He grabs your thighs and pulls you forward, yanking your panties off and sweet holy shit you don't shave down there how could you possibly be any more perfect?

His mouth waters. His cock throbs. He dives in. He drags his tongue up your inner thighs, soft and smooth and sweet as that pie.

“Captain--!” A nip to the tender flesh turns the exclamation into a squeak.

“I said shut up,” he says between kisses.

Finally, you stop talking. You only pant and moan as he shoves his face into your pussy, lapping at your already sopping cunt. Did he do this? Are you this wet because of him?

He can't help it. He stuffs his hand down the front of his pants to fondle himself. Like the desperate bastard he is, his cock’s hard and leaking already.

He grinds against his palm as he gorges himself on you. Licking, sucking, swirling, punctuating with a few nips for good measure. It's all harmonized by the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard flowing from your lips, high-pitched and whiny.

He's not sure how long has passed when you grab his head and push him away. Time flows strangely between your thighs.

You've got a crazed look in your eyes again. “I want you inside me.”

He wants to say something clever, something cool and on brand for him, like it's not time for the finale yet or but my leading lady isn't satisfied.

But that would delay being inside you and he's too addled to think of anything. He jumps to his feet and wriggles out of his trousers and shorts. If he were more aware of himself, he'd be humiliated by just how much he has to shimmy and dance around to get them off his hips, but there's not enough blood in his brain to be self-conscious.

He kicks them away in whatever direction. Something crashes to the floor and he doesn't care. He looks back to your beautiful face--

You're wide-eyed as you look at him. He follows your gaze, right down to his--

In all the excitement, he's not sucking it in anymore.

Now it's his turn to be sheepish. He sucks it in again. But he can't hold it. Too much blood in his cock. He tries again with the same result.

Unfortunately for him, it's drawn your attention even more. Off comes your bra, and you don't take your eyes off his stomach the whole time.

Now he really can't think anymore. They're just so pretty and perfect. You're so pretty and perfect. He doesn't deserve this. This is a hell of a mismatch if ever there was one. You, divinity in the flesh. Him, a fat, dirty old clown.

This is a joke. It has to be. Someone put you up to this and now you're gonna back out and he's gonna let you because you deserve better so he better just rip the bandage off now and--

“Out,” he spits. “Get out.”

You blink at him in shock, then your face hardens. You speak with the firmness of a queen who's sick of her courtiers’ bullshit. “Get over here and get on top of me.”

You're mocking him. You gotta be. There’s no other explanation. “I said--”

You look him in the eyes. Something dangerous glitters there. “Buggy, get the fuck on top of me.”

It comes out at a hoarse yell. “Stop mocking me!”

You spring upwards and, with that wild strength that surprises him every time, you throw him on the bed. It squeaks as he bounces -- actually, that might have come from him.

You've got a look on your face he can only describe as murderous. “I did not wait two months for you to chicken out,” you say. You clamber onto him. “I did not wait two fucking months for you to finally man up and say something only for you to get self-conscious!”

Fear, anger, and arousal battle for control of his body. Arousal wins. You are hot as a griddle when you're mad.

You sit yourself on his belly, just above his cock. It twitches against your ass and he's sure it's made of clouds and he groans.

“Look at me,” you say.

He doesn't. He can't. He doesn't want to see the scorn that's surely in your eyes.

You learn forward and grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to look. Even in the dim light, he can see the sheen of sweat on your face and the rise and fall of your chest as you pant.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” you say, “but you will never get this chance again.”

No. No no no no. He wants you. He wants you so bad. He's never had perfection this close and it's never wanted him as much as you seem to.

“Do you want me to leave?” you ask firmly.

He shakes his head so hard it hurts.

You don't grin. You simply release his chin and lift yourself up. You lower yourself on his cock and, as he watches it disappear, inch by slick inch into your hot, wet pussy, the battle is over.

He doesn't care if this is a trick anymore. He's going to get his.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, fingers sinking into the smooth flesh. You gasp as he bottoms out, gripping the swell of his hips. He doesn't care. They're called love handles for a reason.

And then you start to bounce.

It starts in your legs. Pumping your thighs to lift yourself up and drop down onto his cock. The jolt ripples through your whole body, from your thighs to your belly to your breasts.

He's transfixed. So transfixed that he doesn't even notice you grabbing his pecs, squishing and squashing them between your gentle fingers. You tweak his nipples and he damn near howls.

He can't let you have all the fun. He pops his hand off to swirl his fingers around your clit.

But you don't cry out or moan. You start babbling. Something about eating and how hot he is and how much you love that he loves your cooking and it's all interspersed with pleasant-sounding gibberish. But he doesn't hear a word of it. You're too warm and slick and it goes in one ear and it the other.

But the sounds. God, the sounds of him sliding in and out of you. Wet and disgusting and it makes his mouth water and his cock leak and that just makes it wetter--

The slap of skin on skin and wet on wet and his moans and your chattering all mingle into a delicious symphony.

But it stops all too soon. Your breath hitches and you bend at the waist, singing his name like a songbird, the same little melody over and over. “Buggy, Buggy, Buggy...!”

His name dissolves into little yips and gasps as your cunt flutters around his cock. It's so good. Better than treasure. Better than adrenaline. Better than a full belly after a hard day's work--

He realizes he's not wearing a condom. Fuck. “Where ya want it?” he grunts.

You don't hesitate. “In me,” you say between gasps.

In you? Inside you? Spilling his hot, wet cum into your hot, wet cunt? Your cunt? Soaking it? Seeding it? Making it even messier and sloppier and filling you up so much that--

He almost pops right then and there, but he bites his lip. “Nuh-uh. Where?”

“In me!” you spit.

He whines the most unmanly of whines. He will. He won't. He wants to. He can't. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Captain,” you whimper, “Buggy, please...”

He looks up at you. Your hands on his chest, your breasts heaving with each breath, your little belly rising and falling, your luscious thighs on either side of his hips, your lips dropped open as you pant, your bush surrounding his fingers--

God damn it.

He throws you to the side as he pops like a champagne cork. A few drops end up on you, but most of it splatters onto the underside of his belly, where it's started obeying gravity.

One hand grips the sheets and the other grips something warm and his hips buck and his head swims and his mouth makes utterly pathetic noises. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

He crashes back to earth like a meteor strike. All he can see is white as he flops back onto the mattress, gasping for breath.

He has no idea how long it takes for him to recover. But something soft tickles the knuckles of his detached hand. A shudder racks him as he turns his head towards you.

Post-orgasm haze still clouds your eyes, but they're big and round as a doe’s as you cradle his hand close to his face. You press your lips to his knuckles.

He gives a weak smile. “Hi.”

You giggle. God, he loves that giggle. He wishes he could hear it every day. He'd put it in a sea shell if he could, carry it around in his pocket and press it to his ear whenever he feels lonely. Or spin it into cotton candy. It's certainly light and sweet enough. Or whip it up onto a foam and fold it into batter like he watched you do that one time for cake...

His stomach growls. He needs to stop thinking about food.

You kiss his knuckles again, still smiling so very sweetly. “Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” he mumbles. It's the truth.

Detaching his other hand, he feels around on the floor. There's a towel here somewhere... Unless he threw it on the chair... Or over the folding screen...

He finds it slung over the door of his wardrobe. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. “After you.”

Suit yourself. He mops his belly up as you watch. Shit, this was a big one.

Satisfied, he tosses the towel away. He rolls over to take you in his arms, but he finds nothing. You're standing up, pulling his coat on and closing it around your front.

“Get over here,” he says. “That's an order.”

“I gotta clean up,” you say.

He panics. He can't help it. His voice quivers like a child's. “Don’t leave. Please.”

You give him a kind look that almost makes him cry. “I’ll be right back,” you coo. “I promise.”

He doesn't want to be alone. Not now. Tears prick at his eyes and his lip quivers. But you're out the door before he can stop you.

You're not coming back. He knows it. He disappointed you. How could he not? You're beautiful. You're divine. You're perfect.

And what is he? A fat old clown.

He lays there, shivering in the cold air, too afraid to move. Too aware of his shortcomings. Too aware of every flaw, every defect, every deficiency. His temper. His teeth. His nose. His appetite. His everything.

The door opens. The moonlight frames your silhouette for a moment before you close the door behind you.

He nearly sobs with relief. You don't notice, thankfully, as you shuck his coat.

He launches his arms at you as he sits upright, pulling you into an embrace as he falls back down. He lays you to the side, slipping under your arm and tucking his head in the crook between your chin and chest.

You thread your fingers through his hair. “Don't tell me you thought I wasn't coming back.”

He murmurs something he forgets as soon as it leaves his lips. You're so soft. So warm. So comfortable. And he's so exhausted.

You giggle. You kiss his forehead and slide your fingers through his hair. “Bonwee, sha.”

He has no idea what that means, but you say it with such warmth that it must be something good. He snuggles up close to you.

Rocked by the sea and calmed by your heartbeat, he drifts off.

---

He sleeps well, but he stirs a few times.

The first is when you shift out from under him, mumbling something in a language he can't place. You roll onto your side, your back to him. He doesn't like that at all and pulls you in to be the little spoon. You squeak. It's cute. He doesn't care that his belly presses against your back.

He stirs again when his arm falls asleep and he rolls onto his side. You follow him this time. You press yourself right up against his back, breasts and belly and thighs squishing against him. You're so warm.

The final time is as the gray light of dawn slips through the windows. He's shaken from a dream and he grumbles.

“I gotta go get started on breakfast,” you whisper. “Just wanted to let you know I wasn't lovin’ and leavin’.”

That's so sweet of you. “You're so sweet,” he mumbles sweetly.

You giggle. “See you in a few hours.”

You kiss the tip of his nose and he's not even upset.

===

You had a lovely night, but you're walking a bit funny and it's making your usual bustling around the galley just difficult enough to be annoying. And the visions of your stark naked captain filling your head are making it even harder.

You're a very simple woman, like your mother before you. You like men. You like food. You like men who like food. You especially like men who like your food.

Captain Buggy's a man. Captain Buggy likes food. And he loves your food, if his constant hovering in the galley is anything to go on. And he loves it a lot and it's showing.

The memory of him lying beneath you, his warm hips against your thighs, his belly wobbling as you bounce atop him, his head thrown back in bliss, surprises you just as you're tossing a flapjack. It slams into the ceiling and stays there.

Your fellow cook, a swarthy fellow going by Bloomer, casts the new ceiling decor an odd look. He turns it on you. “You alright, girl?”

You know what? Screw this. Everyone else can handle breakfast. “I'm gonna go wake up the captain,” you say. “How's he like his coffee?”

Milk and two cubes of sugar, he tells you. You put in cream and three cubes. Man's gotta get his strength back from last night, you tell yourself as you set off across the deck.

You knock three times on the door. No answer. You knock harder. Still nothing. You take that as a sign he may be dead and enter just in case.

Captain Buggy is, in fact, quite alive, if not also naked. He's in front of the mirror... or his face is, anyways. His body is turned completely around as he examines the reflection of his rear. He grabs a handful, thick fingers sinking into the squish. He gives it a jiggle and it wobbles.

You don't blame him. It's a great ass. Perfect for grabbing and digging your nails into. Next time, you're making him get on top so you can do just that.

But you prefer his front. That's where all the good shit is. Soft, muscular pecs, perfect for grabbing and groping, covered in a dusting of hair that trails down to his soft belly.

His hands go there next, pinching his sides. He gives them a shake and his belly bounces.

That little zing shoots up your gut and into your throat, that one you always get around men like him. That same one as when you first saw him from across the diner, draining a pitcher of beer. The same one you had last night when you walked in on him eating pie filling. And now, watching him preening after a wild romp.

...or you thought he was preening. He turns his body around and as his hands go to his face -- he's got a stronger jawline than you'd expected when he's barefaced -- you notice his laugh lines deepen. He lets out a grunt of disgust as his lips curl.

You frown. He's saying ugh as if you couldn't keep your hands off of him last night. Coaxing him in closer with pie filling just so you could feel his body molding against yours. Grabbing his cheeks and yanking him in for a kiss you'd been craving for months. Dragging him to his cabin and fucking yourself on him while you dug your nails into whatever soft flesh you could grab.

You close the door with a firm check of the hips. The slam startles him, but he calms as he sees you. Somewhat. There's still an uneasy look in his eye.

“G’morning,” he says. A little blush blooms across his cheeks. He avoids eye contact.

He'd be cute if he wasn't pathetic. You set the coffee down on the nearest surface and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands on the swell just above his hips and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for finally taking the hint,” you say into his skin.

He chuckles, a low, vibrating thrum. “I never miss a cue, baby.”

Lies. You've been trying everything. Flirting. Making his favorite food. You even went braless one day on a supply run with him and he didn't even blink. Idiot.

“Then why'd it take you so damn long?”

He scoffs. “Had to make sure I wasn't seeing things,” he mumbles.

He's so pathetic. Like a wet cat. You can't help but squeeze his sides--

He jumps away from you like you gave him an electric shock. “Stop it!” he spits.

You blink. “Stop what?”

“Stop-- Stop mocking me!”

You blink a few more times. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The flush deepens along with his scowl. “Quit touching me like that.”

Not what he was saying last night. “Like what?”

“Stop grabbing my--” He huffs. “I know I’m fat. Quit rubbing it in.”

Pardon? Did you hear that correctly? Does he know who he's talking to? You try to keep your tone even, but you were never good at that. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

He blanches. “...No.”

Too bad. You grab him by the waist and throw him onto the bed. He yelps as he bounces, then once again as you straddle his waist.

“Buggy. Darling. Cher,” you say. “Do you really think I would have fucked you if I didn't think you were hot shit?”

He simmers like a boiling pot with the lid still on. “Maybe!”

Pour l’amour de Dieu, c’est un contraieuse et un tête de cabri et pourquoi ce clown so fucking stupid?

You scoot backwards, kissing your way down his chest. Each one gets a tiny grunt from him until you get to his belly. He growls and tries to roll away, but you hold fast. You gently kiss just above his navel, then the tuft of blue hair right below it.

You peer up at him. He peers back, brow knit up, questioning you.

You press your face into his navel and blow a raspberry against his skin.

Buggy squeal-laughs. You've never heard him make that noise before and it's very cute. You do it again and he devolves into laughter.

“Sto-o-op!” he cackles.

You do not. You do it again and again until he's wheezing and not scowling any more. You stare up at him, fingering the tuft of hair below his navel.

He comes down slowly, cackles turning to giggles to breathless gasps. He finally sees you staring. “What?”

“Feeling better?” you ask. He huffs, but he does nod. “Good. Now stop being mean to my favorite captain.”

He frowns a bit at that. “Who’s that? Alvida? When'd she come up?” You keep staring at him. He blinks. “Wait, you mean--?”

Gros couillion. “No, the other guy I fucked last night,” you say. He bristles. Fuck’s sake. “Yes, you!”

He blinks again. The flush returns. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn't be on top of your naked-ass body if I didn't.” You place lean in close, the tip of your nose bumping his. “And you have a very nice body, Captain.”

Just for emphasis, you grab his side, right at the fleshiest part, and give a hard squeeze. He jumps, but nods.

He tries to dive in for a kiss, but you pull away. If you do that, you'll be here all morning. You stand up, offering him your hands. “C’mon, breakfast is ready,” you say.

“I'm not hungry.” His stomach growls. He glares at it. “Shut up.”

Trump card time. “Guess I'll just have to feed all those beignets to Richie, then.”

His eyes go wide. “...you made bin-yays?”

He still can't pronounce it right, but he's getting there. “Sure did,” you say coolly. You examine your nails. “Won't be good for much longer.”

His stomach growls again. “And that pie?”

“Should be good to go, but you better be quick. They'll go fast.”

He jumps to his feet and licks his lips. “Well, keep some for me! Lemme-- Lemme get dressed and I'll be right down.”

“Don't take too long,” you say.

You turn to leave, but he grabs your hand. With a yank and a twirl, he pulls you flush against him and into a kiss.

You melt right into it. Rough lips move against yours, his warm body molds against you, strong arms holding you tight, belly pressing against yours... his nose squishing into your cheek. Wonderful, all of it.

You separate with a pop. He grins at you and wipes his wrist along his lips. “Didn’t think I was gonna let you leave without that?”

You blush. Now he decides to be slick. “Just get dressed.”

You twirl him around and, with a flat hand, you swat his ass. Just to see it quiver. The slap echoes in the small room and he jumps, but you can't stick around to see the look on his face.

You've got work to do.

---

Special thanks to my bf, Meg, and Ollie for beta-ing!

To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #dad bod buggy

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honeycloudz · 1 year

Text

Sleepy Rindou is the Best Rindou

Content Warnings: mention of lingerie, Rindou is only slightly a perv but in the silly goose way, brief mentions of Bonten, Rindou calls you princess, neck kisses, cuddling

Edit: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT ON THIS <33 OMG I NEVER EXPECTED IT TO GET SO BIG!! IM WORKING ON A SANZU ENEMIES TO LOVERS SERIES, CHECK IT OUT IF YOUD LIKE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT <333

You had been lying on the luxurious couch of you and Rindou’s shared apartment for what felt like days awaiting his return. He had warned you about his less than peaceful job when you two became official. Rindou didn't give you details but it didn't take a genius to figure out what he did for a living to support the both of you. Almost a year into your relationship he asked you to move in and quit your job, his reasoning for this was ‘his princess deserves only the very best treatment’, you had laughed at this, declining to quit your job but agreeing to live with him. He was overjoyed at the thought and less than a week later your lease had ended and you began moving your things into his expensive flat. He had taken a few days off work to help you move in. Unpacking seemed tedious but Rindou made sure to make it fun due to the fact he finally had the time and attention that you usually didn't get because of his occupation. Rindou made sure that he was the one to unpack all your lingerie which made you less than amused. Unpacking everything you owned took almost a full week and Rindou knew as soon as he got back to Bonten’s Headquarters he would be swamped with work. Which meant overtime for him.

You felt guilt over this but he assured you that, ‘he would take an infinite amount of overtime if it meant he could hang out with you for a few days’. Here you are now, endlessly checking the clock which now reads 2:04 A.M. laying on the couch awaiting his arrival as the dinner you cooked sitting on the table gets cooler by the minute. You groaned getting up from your comfortable position on the couch to package up the food you and him were meant to eat tonight. As you were tin foiling the food you heard the jingle of keys and the click of the door opening. You smiled to yourself in relief knowing your lover got home safely another night, always on edge and anxiously awaiting his return due to his dangerous job. You heard tired footsteps slowly approaching. You turned your head till your eyes met a very tired Rindou, you tried to hide your giggle when you noticed his hair sticking up in different directions, his collared shirt unbuttoned, the dark circles under his eyes and his slouched posture. You turn your head back around to bring your focus back to packaging up the cold food but as you were about to greet him you felt warm hands snake their way around your waist and your back being pressed against his chest. You feel short kisses going up and down your neck and the ticklish feeling of his lips on your skin makes you let out a small laugh. While you're giggling you feel him smile against your neck which makes you turn around to face him, smiling. You look him in the eyes and take in just how tired he looks. You're both enjoying this silent peaceful moment of holding each other chest to chest when you take one of your hands that was wrapped around his torso and bring it up to his face where you trace your thumb over his cheekbone. He groans and leans into your touch and you use your other hand to lead him to the bed and set him there. He's now half asleep laying on the bed still fully dressed in his work clothes and the sight makes you hold in a laugh. Just as you're about to turn off the lights and go back to the kitchen to finish up your work he grabs your wrist and you let out a squeak when he pulls you down into bed and holds you tightly against his chest. You hear his tired deep voice rasp out a quiet “sleep well princess”. His deep voice makes your cheeks warm up as you do your best to hide it. You think he didn't notice this but he felt the way your face warmed up against his chest but fortunately for you, he's too tired to tease you about it so for now he will just pull you closer to his heart. He tucks your head under his chin while one of his hands is tracing lines up and down your back and the other arm is under your waist holding you close. Soothing nights like these with you, he will cherish till the end of time. His last thought before he dozes off is of you and how much overflowing love you both have for each other.

a/n: IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH I WANT BONTEN RINDOU SO BAD, also thank you for the support on my hanma and ran fics i really appreciate it and im glad yall enjoyed <3333

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hunbun03 · 1 year

Note

May I ask when the Jeff fic is gonna get finished?🥺

Ahh! It's finally done and hopefully not too late! ♡♡♡ I hope you enjoy my first fic of 2023!!

ℍ𝔸𝕋𝔼𝔽𝕌ℂ𝕂𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕁𝔼𝔽𝔽 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕂𝕀𝕃𝕃𝔼ℝ ♡

warning: rough rough sex, BIG DEGRADATION STUFF, hair-pulling, it’s hate sex with a murderer sooooo, pain, fat-shaming??, you domming jeff???, use of feminine names and anatomy, unwanted cream pie, nipple biting and sucking, lot of biting, public kinda sex like you could get caught!, overall general nastiness, BARELY EDITED SMUT!

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: around 4k

ℚ𝕌𝕀ℂ𝕂 𝕃𝕀𝕃 𝔹𝕌𝕃𝕃𝔼𝕋 𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋-

Jeff is a little shit- You know it. I know it.

Sooooo He teases the absolute fuck out of you! when you two aren’t fucking or at least making out: he won’t let you hear the end of it-

“You hate me huh?” “You don’t seem to hate me slut.”

People at the mansion would never guess that you two hook up most nights- since both of you are at each other throats insulting each other for everything under the sun.

Something about the insults, the yelling and the hard grip he had on you made you wet. Made you quiver, made you want this man that you hated.

You hated this man but couldn’t truly express that while you were clawing up the counter tops, him behind you rutting into your needy cunt hard.

you both needed this release.

You still hated each other.

Y’all just needed this just this once!!your bodies took ahold of you! This would be the last night of it.

until you two did it again

and again

fine- maybe you liked it more than what you wanted to admit.

♡♡♡

ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠!! ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕖’𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕣:

It was early morning in the mansion, and the sun was barely poking its head over the old windowsills; It provided enough light for you to creep through the sleeping house, the only sound was the sharp creaks of the aged wooden floor. The nerves made you walk slower and they didn't truly settle until the pads of your feet touched the almost ice-like tile of the kitchen.

The kitchen was darker than the rest of the house, it was completely devoid of the warm peeks of the sunrise due to the thick curtains. You placed your hand flat on the wall and blindly felt around for seemingly a minute while you stared into the void that was the kitchen currently. Past a certain pattern of bumps: The tip of your finger thumped into the thick light switch, and in a flash, the odd staring contest with the darkness ended.

You beelined straight for the fridge which looked worse for wear. Slenderman doesn't make any unnecessary purchases, it still worked good so why buy a prettier one. Sure, it was tough to get it open but a hefty push from your sleep-riddled arms was just enough for this morning.

The buzzing lightbulb in the fridge made you press your eyes tight together and squeezed the remaining sleep out of them. Once again you were back in the dark, giving your eyes time to adjust from the soft light of the peeking sun and the sickly dim yellow lights above to the now almost heavenly fridge light.

Lucky for you, It only took a second.

And there it was: All of the food in the house currently. The cabinets were pretty bare aside from cleaning products and dishes that weren't either in the dishwasher or being used as makeshift tupper-ware. Standing there and soaking up that light that once blinded you. There were a couple of items your eyes were flicking between; A neat plastic container that held some sort of pasta, a tin foiled-wrapped paper plate mystery, and an unwrapped probably stale mash potatoes from a leftover tv dinner. Absolutely none of it looked particularly appetizing but the grumbling in your stomach didn't at all care, but before you could reach for one of your choices for breakfast your appetite dropped.

"Getting a nice tan, fat-ass?"

The hunger subsided but your stomach filled with the same feeling it always had when you heard that nails on a chalkboard voice of his. Of course, Jeff had to be the only one awake just to spite you when you think the whole house is asleep. You clenched your teeth tight until you felt a slight whirring in your jaw, hopefully, he would fuck off if you didn't respond but that only seemed to spur him on more.

"What are you now, deaf? C'mon toots you know how to say good morning the right way," Jeff's voice still had the sleepiness rasp to it. "Don't ya?"

Honestly, if it wasn't for him being so annoying you would find it quite sexy.

"What's the proper way to say good morning then?" Your voice was also raspy, it was the first thing you said this morning. Too bad that you wasted it on Jeff.

Jeff liked the raspiness more than he would admit, it reminded him of how you tend to scratch up your throat during your guy's screaming matches and how much worse it would get when you were screaming for a different reason. The very thought of a possible fuck made him want to start poking those few buttons he knew.

"Not fucking ignoring me for starters," Jeff smirked against the already scarred smile, making it stretch more. "And giving me a big smile babe."

Your eyes rolled before you even looked back at Jeff. He was leaning against the door frame, his black plaid pajama pants were hanging low on his thin build. The white tank of his was tighter than what you would think, all of it revealed his belly and revealed your favorite part personally: That thick happy trail of his which led to your second favorite part.

You flashed him the most fake smile you could muster, lips stretching against your teeth with how grand you were making it, "Uh-huh."

He couldn't help but smile back before biting his lower lip, Jeff's eyes were glued to your stretched lips. He leaned in closer to you, watching how your lips twitched against the strain "Uh-huh~"

Just as fast as you put that smile on, it dropped into your resting face aside from your lips which were in a slight frown. "Like calling me a fat-ass is such a better way, bleach boy."

It was now his turn for his eyes to roll, "Real mature Toots."

"Oh shove it up your ass Jeff."

Annoyance aside, he was genuinely letting his semi speak for him, and the way you insulted him almost made his semi not a semi anymore. Still, he needed another screaming match to fully get into the mood; deep down, he knew that you needed it too.

"A better way to say good morning to me toots is by sucking my cock."

Your face was stuck in disbelief, your eyes flicked up and down his whole being. You were dumbfounded but when you saw a noticeable bulge in his pajama pants you immediately knew why he was saying this. You let disgust run all over your body, the only thing you wanted in you right now was food and even that was iffy since your appetite was draining by the second while you were with him.

"Really Jeff? As if I'll put that thing in my mouth- won't even reach past my gums." You sneered, looking away from him and towards the empty cabinets, a smirk came across your face.

Jeff rolled his eyes, annoyed but turned on even more now. He came closer to you, now standing in front of you. Towering over you even though he wasn't the tallest guy in the house but here, compared to you he was. He was currently taking up your side view, It made your breath hitched slightly, and the excitement rumbled in a ball in your chest, you felt it every time you breathe.

"You weren't saying that last time doll, you know that." Jeff's sleepiness rasp to his voice was actually sending tingles down your spine, just the excitement of getting into not actually an argument but a bickerment was enough to get over the hatred you had for this man, and get into the pure lust you had instead.

"Who got overwhelmed by my size? screaming about how big it was huh?" Jeff was still teasing you and seemingly his craved smile stretched even wider when he caught your cheeks starting to redden.

He only wants to continue this. wanting to see how red your cheeks would get.

"I saw how your little tummy bulged out when I was absolutely balls deep in you, Doll." Jeff couldn't help but smile more. Now his actual smile was now mocking his carved one.

You couldn't stop the blood rushing to your cheeks causing them to mimick the color now. The redder they got the cockier Jeff got. His ego was inflating and he wouldn't stop until you were naked and squirming underneath him.

"Shut up Jeff. I swear." You murmured, barely able to get it out of your mouth. You swear that the heat from your cheeks was getting in the way of talking, Jeff picked up on this as well and it only pushed him to keep teasing you.

"Come on now can't defend yourself now? Come onnn call me stupid or something sweetface."

Before you could even get a word out he continued.

"See absolutely speechless because of me teasing you? Wow, would never thought that I would see the day that Y/N didn't have anything to say."

He looks proud of himself but a better word for it would be cocky, you thought. He kept going on about his small victory and soon his words snuffed the heat right out of your cheeks. You needed to shut him up somehow before his cockiness also snuffed out your lust. Thankfully, you had just the idea.

You pushed him into the wall, cutting him off in the midst of another boast. You looked up at him with a devilish smirk as you gently pulled up his white tank revealing his lean but toned body, and that happy trail as well. When the shock subsided he immediately got the hint, smirking down at you, while his eyes watched you carefully.

Your hand slid down his pajama pants feeling that same semi he had while you were insulting him. Now you could feel the effect that you always knew you had on him. You, almost at a painstaking pace started to rub his cock. as you started to kiss all over his chest. Sloppy wet kisses, leaving a trail of slight purple bruises as the blood rose to his snow-white skin.

He could only groan softly, keeping his voice hushed because y'all were next to the kitchen door: He couldn't let anyone see him like this, pinned up against the wall, shirt pushed up his chest and you teasing him. He couldn't be seen especially with you. His pride wouldn't possibly let the entire mansion or a single person know that he could stand for a second or even a quick fuck.

The kisses got meaner with time, now biting into his surprisingly soft skin which made it a lot harder for him to conceal his moans and groans.

"Fuck.. Doll." He whined which made you smile against his ribcage. The noise was delicious, and you didn't expect that you would get that from Jeff of all people.

A soft giggle left your lips and was muffled by the bruised flesh currently in your teeth. Your hand that rubbed his semi-to-a-full erection paused its movements as you got an idea that would be rather fun to execute and hopefully get another delicious whine from him.

Your lips left his ribcage and your teeth left their marks in the now red-purple love bruise. Your lips made a trail of now soft and sweet kisses up his chest. No one could tell that you hated this man with how soft you were being in this moment.

You paused when your mouth hovered over his right nipple. Your eyes flicked up to meet his and he looked mostly confused why you stopped kissing him. He liked it despite how rough you were. Little did he know what you had in mind.

"Doll- what are yo-"

You cut him off but wrapped your pretty lips around his nipple and gently sucked on it like he had done to you during past hookups. You ever so slightly let your tongue graze again the hardening pebble.

Pitiful groans came from Jeff's mouth, he was shocked that he could muster up these sounds.

With a wet plop, you stopped sucking, leaving Jeff to scramble to catch his breath and thoughts. When he looked like he had a smidge of it back, you had your two front teeth and bottom teeth around the now reddish pink bud, the color similar to your blush from earlier.

A groan that ended off with a high pitch whine when you started to roll the bud in between your teeth, wriggling your tongue on the top part.

"Fuuuck Duh-Duh... Doll."

That free hand of yours had a similar mind as it went up to his lone nipple gently flicking it and pinching it.

Jeff was a blushing mess, happy that your view was only on his chest cause he would have hated to see your reaction to him like this.

You didn't stop until his right nipple was bright red and slightly puffy.

Jeff reached for your face which had some drool pouring out of your mouth and onto his chest. He absolutely didn't care, pulling you up to his height by your face so he could roughly make out with you. His scarred skin rubbed against yours, tounges smashed together and so did moans. Accidentally bumping teeth when either of you got a little too excited.

You struggled some with the height difference and the way you felt like you were just held up by your neck, so during the make-out, you climbed him like the bean pole he was. He easily helped you: his hands grabbing massive greedy heaps of your thighs, squeezing it hard to start making his own marks on your body.

Drool seeped out from the corners of y'alls mouths.

Finally, he pulled away so your lungs could take gulps of air. He moved to your neck where your pulse was beating the strongest and started biting and sucking: His hands moved to one of his personal favorite body parts of yours: your ass. His hands which looked to be made for piano left imprints.

Your moans filled the kitchen now and weren't the least bit quiet: fuelling him to carry you to the old island in the middle of the kitchen and plopped your bruised ass on the yellowed marble counter.

His greedy mouth traveled down your chest leaving wide 'O' shaped burst blood vessels. You felt your body warming up, you couldn't see all too well, blinded by lust. All that mattered was taking this man in every way y'all saw fit.

Jeff ripped open your shirt, sloppily sucking on your breasts in any way they could fit in his mouth. he didn't care what part he just wanted to suck on them and also for them to be marked since you did one hell of a job on his chest.

"Jefff fuuuck~"

"Now you're moaning my name toots." He said his voice muffled by your marked flesh still halfway in his mouth. "Good." He huffed, his mouth now going lower.

He left a couple marks on your tummy, didn't want to spend too much time there but didn't want to leave it bare. He couldn't wait. He wanted to taste you. To swirl his tongue around in your insides. quite hastily he pulled your underwear down to around your ankles and threw your legs over his shoulders: making you lay your warm naked back against the cold marble which made your nipples hard and that caught his attention.

He flicked his eyes back up to your breasts, taking in the sight before he reached out and grabbed them roughly leaving the same hand-shaped imprints.

His eyes looked wild as ever. the pupil constricted into a pin-point like a parrot who just learned how to say "fuck". Those wild eyes traced your body from your tits down to your pussy, pretty and glistening from all the excitement and fun y'all had earlier. He reached down, gently taking his index finger and rubbing the slit of your cunt. From how he grabbed you earlier you weren't expecting this. How he so delicately touched you as if you were a brittle piece of bone, threatening to snap

You greedily tried to move your hips, trying to push yourself against his hand so you could feel more. The red flush on your face now was out of frustration since he In perfect timing moved his hand so you just missed his fingers by a hair.

"Nuh uh uh toots. Not yet." He said through gritted teeth as if he was straining to hold even himself back from completely devouring you. "I wanna hear something?"

"What Jeff? Whaaat" You whined, now sitting up half-assed.

"Beg."

"I am not-"

"Shut up Doll: You did it before."

"Im not doing it this ti-"

You were cut off by a long moan erupting from your mouth one of Jeff's long fingers slid up inside you, bottoming out easily. the beginning of his palm right against your clit. You were knocked back on your back, legs naturally spreading open for this man which pulled him in closer due to your panties still being around your ankles.

"Please Jeff."

Jeff stood above you, jaw unclenched as now he worked his hand shoving his ring finger in to join his middle one.

"That's all you had to say bitch.. GOD, you're so hot like this." He groaned, pulling back as he lowered himself to be in direct line of sight of your pussy. He moved his hand so his palm wasn't covering your now swollen clit, His natural smile was now ear to ear before he leaned over and started to suck lightly on your clit which sent your hips into wild motions so wild in fact that he had to reach up with his free hand and firmly press it against your belly to keep you still enough while he tasted you.

He worked his fingers into you hard but slow, thrusting into you as if he was fucking you with his cock, his tongue flicking around your clit. he changed his thrusts to the scissoring motion when he noticed you tightening up on him, your pussy throbbing wildly, your moans pleads, and whimpers all in his ears.

He moaned along with you, seemingly getting off to see you getting off. Strangely, you twos emotions were always tied together.

Maybe it was from all practice he had but he genuinely felt you were close, it must've been muscle memory.

His fingers worked rough, sloppily thrusting into you with no real timing or pacing. His tongue and mouth got sloppier and so did his hold on you which meant you could buck all you wanted. You squeezed tighter on his fingers genuinely feeling a big knot in your stomach, only tightening more and more with how more messy Jeff has gotten.

His mouth trailed off, his tongue joining his fingers in your hole while his other hand's fingers rubbed your clit, flicking it back and forth between his index and middle finger.

The muscles in your legs twitched and generally shake as if that would help you hold in the need to come undone under jeff's talented hands and mouth.

The knot only swelled and so did the upcoming scream in your throat. In time, you clasp your hand over your mouth muffling the guttural scream the best you can.

You came and came hard, juices gushing out of your hole and onto Jeff's fingers and waiting mouth. He looked up at you, your whole body flushed a rosy pink. Your mouth agape taking in greedy breaths, boobs bouncing slightly from your chest moving.

"Jesus toots almost drowned me." He grinned, at how annoyed you looked. He straightened up, his chin still dripping with your fluids, he stuck his fingers into your hanging mouth.

"Suck." He ordered, eyes lowering but the smile was still the same.

You closed your mouth around his fingers and gave it gentle sucks, savoring the taste of yourself much to the enjoyment of Jeff. his eyes sparkled when you kept sucking even when he tried to pull them out.

He pulled you by your hips closer to him, his pajama pants barely able to hang on. He barely pulled them down, just enough so that he could take out his cock.

"I know you been wanting this~"

"Shut up Jeff."

"What am I wrong toots?"

"Ye-" A loud moan interrupted you when he shoved himself into your needy cunt, gladly sucking in all of his length.

He joined your choir of moans as being in your tight pussy was enough for his knees almost to buckle. He was hunched over you, god he could swear to a priest that this pussy was the closest thing to heaven he has ever known. He gave only shallow thrusts which were enough for you both to shudder and whine. You from being overly sensitive and him from just edging himself.

"Fuck toots- god!"

He thrust into you hard one time and you both saw stars. Jeff was hunched over you like a lion eating its's meal, his hands found a way towards your hair and pulled it backward, making you stay in an arch position. He gave you more brutal thrusts, knocking every damn thought out of ya.

"Cant fucking think huh doll?" Jeff mocked you for the glazed-over look you had in your eyes. Your tongue hanging out like a puppy-dog.

"Fuck you." your tongue found it's way back into your mouth and hurled that at him.

"You're already doing that sweetheart~" He cooed looking down at your pretty face, which know had more of a glare on it then lust.

He kept the same deep pace with you, looking intently into your eyes.

"Fu-fuck you jeff! I hate you!"

Your pussy squeezed around him almost like it was milking him. His thrusts only grew rougher as his smile grew wider.

"hate me huh? Dont hate me enough not to fuck me~ God you're such a stupid little slut."

The way he was bottoming you out on repeat was making you stammer on your words. "Shut shut shut up-"

"Or else what bitch? Am I the only guy you fuck in the house or just the one that does it the best?'

His index and middle finger went to rub your clit. pressing harder down on it. You couldn't help but to buck your hips again. The knot in your belly finding the loose strings and tying itself up again.

"Jesus christ Jeffery- You're such a fucking asshole- Can't even- make me cum again." You said through gritted teeth, the way you had to suppress moans just to say that drove you insane. And deep down you knew that he was gonna make you cum again by how the knot was quickly tightening up.

"Oh? I can't, news to me bitch." He slow down but still trusted into you hard enough for you not to complain. His hand went off of your clit and onto your belly pressing down on it. He could feel his own cock going in and out.

His other hand loosens up on your hair, allowing you to move a little and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows, looking him right in his cocky face.

"fuck smiles-" You moaned and he laughed.

Your hand went and grabbed his hair pulling him to your lips. The smart way of shutting him up, can't brag if he's busy swirling tongues.

The kiss was hot and heavy and soon you both got sloppier. Jeff with his thrusts and tongue and you with your tongue.

your facades both fell apart and you two wildly fucked into each other. Not thinking about the rivalry, the other people living here, nothing at all but getting each other off.

The knot was unbearabley tight, your thighs twitching like mad around his waist, squeezing him a little tighter. Jeff pushed you flat on your back, now chest to chest with your tongues still locked together. Moans seeping out in between the little breaks in the kiss. You pulled away to fully let out a louder moan and you could feel jeff's hot breaths against your cheek. He smelled of you.

"Jeff... I'm gonna cum."

"Fuck me too."

Jeff got sloppier like how he did when he was fingering you. No rhythm or pacing to it, fucking into you rough. Whatever felt good to him he just did it. Rocking his hips into you at a brutal pace. He lifted himself off of your chest, his hands taking greedy handfuls of your thighs and squeezing hard, matching the brutal way he was fucking you. He was holding you as if you would run away but you did quite the opposite, fucking yourself back against him when he wasn't pulling you against his thrusts.

When you did have your eyes open, you caught glimpses of him staring at you with such an intensity it made your pussy throb. His jaw clenched, eyes crazy but scanning your whole body drinking the view in.

It felt like hours going on like this but a couple more thrusts made you cum, your body seized up, tightening your pussy around him before just gushing all over his pelvis, thoroughly soaking his pajama pants that were loosely hanging around his thighs. Seeing you being sent over the edge was what he needed to come undone, with one last thrust he filled you up to the brim, his legs shaking as he dumped every last drop into you.

He then slouched and laid on your chest, his face resting in the nook of your neck. You both lay there, breathing heavily but in sync. Somehow your hands found their way to his back, your finger drawing invisible circles on his shoulder blade.

When both of ya'lls breathing stopped resembling that of an asthmatic kid who just got done running the mile, Jeff picked his head up. A gentle smile against his carved one.

"i'll make us breakfast, toots."

#creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer smut #jeff the killer x reader smut #jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta x reader smut

1K notes · View notes

asuyaka · 5 months

Note

Hello Arlan! I love you’re writing so much and was wondering if you could write someone with Aki from CSM since i see there isn’t a ton requested on here! What i was thinking was Aki and Reader(FtM or whatever feels best!) Having lots of little romantic moments together. Doing your chores everything like that and once they finish relaxing on the couch and they open up to one another about current life struggles and grow more and more intimate that Reader and Aki go into the bedroom and slowly but romantically have one another in the sheets. I love domestic like fics and i would love to see how you interpret this. I give you full reign to choose what happens but that’s just what i give to start an idea. I hope you are healthy and well!!

★ - m'was kinda strugglin' on if it should be FtM or cis... ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭ also!! CSM hype Reze 's gettin animated ໒꒰ྀི >ヮ<꒱ྀི১

☆ - Aki Hayakawa x FtM! Reader!

♡ - m'cigarette addicted boyfie...໒꒰ྀི ๑>///<๑ ꒱ྀིა | slight manga spoilers but no names are dropped!! | wowie, this one took a lottt outta me! but, anythin' for you guys!! merry (late) christmas ૮₍｡´ᴖ ˔ ᴖ`｡₎ა

✪ - amab terminology, dom Aki/sub reader, praise, dacryphilia, nipple play, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, uses the term 'hole' and 'dick/cock' for readers genitals, slight degradation/mocking, creampie(s), n implied aftercare!!

Aki Hayakawa’s children are a handful. There is no other way to say it. However, you could say you enjoyed it whenever they got rowdy. After killing the Control and Gun Devil and everyone (surprisingly) making it out alive, Power and Denji have been inseparable ever since.

Constantly bickering about who’s getting the larger portion of juice, running around the house at fuck off O’clock yelling something about how Martians are going to invade Japan with tin foil shaped like a cone on their heads, or having… barf contests for some odd reason.

Then there was you Aki, and some girl Kishibe gave you after the control devil incident. Aki insisted on moving since the house was too big for five people and an absurd amount of dogs. He also pulled Denji and Power out of Public Safety and enrolled them in school when he figured out they were nowhere near the proper academic level for teenagers— and helped them with their homework whenever they got it.

The girl was always close to Denji or with the dogs. She was nice, a little freaky when you realized she was the new Control Devil, but you soon realized she was nothing like the past one.

She embodied a fresh new slate, a perfect addition to the family slowly building itself back together after almost losing important people in your lives.

“I’m back, I got groceries so we could make dinner when they’re back from Kishibe’s,” Aki says, accompanied by the automated chime that sounded through the house every time the door opened.

Donned in a plain apron jacket, Aki’s clothes, and house slippers, you greet him at the door with a kiss, an excited smile adorning your face. “Welcome back! I uh, wrote you something.”

Aki cocks an eyebrow slightly as his hands snake to settle on your waist, breathing in the scent of his shampoo on your hair. “What is it, baby?”

Walking towards the living room–albeit a bit awkwardly with the addition of your boyfriend behind you– you pick up a note from the table, an excited but shy look on your face as you hand him the paper.

Aki silently reads it behind you, remaining expressionless until he finishes. “You’re so sappy, you know that?” He breathes out, peppering kisses against your cheek.

A warm flush spreads through your body, slightly pushing his face away from yours. “I need to finish doing the dishes, wait on the couch?”

Aki kisses your cheek once more before nodding, the warmth around your waist leaving as he sits on the couch.

Immediately missing the added heat against your body, you do the dishes with added haste. Not too fast for Aki to pick up on what you were doing, but fast enough for your hands to gain slight ice burn.

You take your apron off and hold it, placing it next to Aki’s. It’s a slight, domestic feature that makes your heart swell up fondly. Aki’s blue eyes catch yours as he pats a seat next to him on the couch.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing your back against his chest and intertwining your legs. Moments like this make you feel lucky. Lucky to have Aki alive and your kids (?) alive too.

“What was it like being in public safety?” You ask absentmindedly, adjusting your position so you’re laying on top of him, chest against chest.

Aki’s eyes widened, his face slightly contorting in confusion. “What’s with the sudden question?”

“Well,” You shrug, intertwining his hands in yours. “You quit and I just got a little curious since you know… all that happened. I guess I was scared you and the kids wouldn’t come back to me.”

He stares at you and sighs, pulling you closer and putting your face in the crook of his neck. “I know, I’m sorry. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly good either. People died, a lot, and a part of me guessed that one day I’d die before I ever got a chance to find people to care about.”

“There was Himeno, of course, but that wasn’t the same.” Aki sighs, a vague image of his friend flashing through his face. “Ironically, it was when I met those two dumbasses and you that I think my life… turned around?”

“I was forced to take care of Denji and Power, obviously, but the added responsibility of taking care of two people who don’t know how to do long division made me care for them in a reverse psychological type way.”

Aki’s hands are under your shirt, drawing images on your bare back. “Then I met you and changed even more. I never thought I’d be able to have a significant other, not to talk about loving someone romantically.”

Aki isn’t good with expressing his emotions, and even though he’s millions of light years better than when you first met him, hearing him outright say that you changed him, for the better, makes something swell inside you.

“‘n I’m the sap.” You say in feigning annoyance, pressing a kiss on his neck. You feel his body shudder as the hands on your back dig into your skin. “Missed you.”

You move to straddle his waist, a warm flush spreading across your body. “Aki,” a shiver runs down your spine as you suck in a breath. Like a broken record, you repeat yourself. “Aki,”

Curling your fingers into his shirt, you pull him forward and push your lips into his.

You feel him move, his chest pressing against yours as he pushes you to lay your back on the couch. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, the smoothness of his topknot under your fingertips. He tastes tangy, addictive. His tongue swirls around yours, a tiny whine forces its way through your throat.

Pulling away, Aki plays with the bottom of your (his) shirt. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes, Aki please,” You whisper shakily, watching his eyes darken as he swiftly takes your shirt off, throwing it on the floor somewhere and burying his face in your neck.

Soft whines emit from your mouth, hands going to remove the hair tie holding his hair up. His dark blue hair cascaded past his neck and rested on his shoulders. Aki’s hands follow the soft arch of your back and leave indents of his teeth, accompanied by bruises forming on your neck.

Electricity pools in your stomach and flows straight to your dick. Aki spreads your legs with his big hands, his mouth nibbling on the tip of your nipple. “Bedroom?” You whisper breathlessly, remembering none of the people you and Aki are acquainted with know how to knock (except for Angel).

He groans and picks you up as if you weigh nothing, tossing you over his shoulder and opening the door to your shared bedroom with his foot. He puts you on the bed and readily restarts his ministrations.

You watch him play with the waistband of your boxers as his teeth graze the tip of your dick through the fabric. Your legs instinctively come to close, separated by his head. Aki grunts, his hands pressing into the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart and keeping you still. “Stay still.”

Sounds of protest bubble up but the second you feel him lick your cock, it shuts you up instantly. You won’t admit how hard seeing Aki between your legs makes you. Your hole clenches around nothing as slick pools between your thighs.

“Aki,” You mutter, your hands gripping the sheets. “Just take them off already.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” Aki tuts, feigning annoyance as he grabs your thigh so you’re focused on his face. There’s a bare hint of flush on his cheeks, pressing against the crease where your thigh and crotch meet.

It’s like a mental game. Aki knows what he’s doing, how to play with your body to get the exact reaction he needs, and you were dumb to think he wouldn’t use that against you. “No… m’sorry,” You sniffle, fighting back the tears that you weren’t aware of bubbling up.

It’s embarrassing, the hold he has on you. All it takes is a few kisses and some manhandling to have you whining under him like a slut.

Nonetheless, he hikes your hips up and finally takes your boxers. A small gasp leaves your lips as Aki forces your legs above his knees, now properly sitting on the bed. You can feel the swell of his bulge on your ass. There, so close to where you need it the most.

“Open,” Aki’s fingers slip into your mouth, pulling at the corners with a smile on his face. He plays with your tongue, obscene slurping sounds forcing their way into your ears.

It’s not like you’re trying to be loud, but it’s so quiet that you’re practically forced to hear it. Every shortened breath, every whine, words of encouragement every time Aki calls you a good boy, his good boy.

You whimper when his fingers leave your mouth, a messy trail of spit connecting them. His free hand spreads you apart as he scoots down, a glob of spit landing on your cock and sliding down onto your hole.

His fingers find your hole instantly, rubbing against your dick in slow circles. “Aki—ah!” There’s a steady heat building in your abdomen, tight and needy.

“Hm? Something you wanna tell me, baby?” He pushes in a knuckle at a time, just below where you need it. You bite your lip, from the slight burn and the tease of pleasure.

You try to speak– tell him what you need but another finger pushes in and you're interrupted by your hiss. It felt a bit premature, it has been a while since you and Aki had sex so you aren’t as open as you normally would be. Aki leans in for a kiss. It’s demanding, and greedy as he takes your breath away, biting at your lips. Aki’s fingers begin sissorcing, a tiny mewl of surprise leaving your throat.

It takes a minute for the pain to leave completely and the pleasure to take over, g-spot hit dead on. “Oh–” You sigh, fingers holding onto Aki’s shoulder as he breathes your air, foreheads pressed against each other.

“Aki,” You’re out of breath and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. It’s humiliating, embarrassing, yet it feels so good. Aki moves down, his teeth leaving a trail as he settles on your left nipple. He circles the areola. His teeth nip and bite the bud, sucking as his fingers move faster.

It’s good, mind-breakingly so, but it hurts. There’s too much stimulation at once and you’ve completely forgotten everything other than Aki. How Aki feels, what he tastes like, your entire mind is Aki, Aki, Aki.

“Feels good, right baby boy?” Aki coos, his thumb circling the tip of your cock with a newfound haste. “Feels– Aki, m’gonna–” You nod frantically, eyes rolling back and tears streaming down your face as you cum.

“Shh,” Aki kisses your cheek, licking the salt off your face. He pulls away and you hear the sound of clothes rustling. He’s still going?

You can’t bring yourself to move, not when your body feels so limp. So you sit there with your eyes closed and wait.

A beat passes, then two, three, and Aki still hasn’t slipped inside. You are forcing your eye to peek open. Aki stares back at you, eyes lidded and breathing heavy. “Y’look so pretty baby, all perfect f’me, right?”

Aki oozes confidence that he knows he has. The power he has over you, to break with merely his fingers evokes an emotion in you.

The head of his cock presses against your hole, using your cum to slide over your cock. Again, and again, and again, until you’re hard and whining for him to fuck you. “C’mon baby, where are your manners?”

You sniffle, swallowing down a whine. “Please, Aki.”

“Good boy.” He smiles, and the slow grinding of his cock against yours finally stops as he slips inside you. Aki is big, even with prep it takes a bit to get used to.

“Y’feel so good baby,” Aki says, his voice catching on a grunt. “So perfect f’me, so fuckin warm too… shit…” The sound of Aki bottoming out embarrassingly almost brings you over the edge.

“A-Aki—”

Aki’s cock hits your g-spot. Whatever you were about to say gets replaced by a whiny moan. Your eyes snap close and your toes curl, more tears falling down your cheeks.

Aki still doesn’t let up, his hips snapping against your ass hastily. You and Aki have never fucked like this, at least you two haven’t gone past one mutual orgasm before. It feels weird, good– but your body burns up and you physically can’t think.

Your cock stirs, pleasure building in your abdomen again. It sends jolts through your body, pleasure building up, and up, and up and—

Aki’s thumb rubs the tip of your cock and that’s all it takes for another orgasm to wash over you. Your whole body trembles and your back arches.

“That’s two,” Aki says, not showing any sign of slowing down. “I want you t’count okay? C’mon baby tell me how many that was.”

Your voice cracks, and Aki is still fucking you. “Two! s’two!”

Aki grins. “There’s my good boy.”

You’re sure you look stupid, crying on Aki’s cock, rambling about how it’s too much, that you can’t cum anymore. You’re still so sensitive but Aki doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t let up; his thrusts are deep, overwhelming.

Your body sags when you feel Aki’s hips stutter, thrusting once, twice, before spilling inside you with a ragged breath. Heat fills your hole, filling you up and leaking past your perineum.

“My boy, my good fuckin’ boy aren’t you?” Aki kisses you, his hand at the back of your neck that’s adorned with bruises. Everything seems to melt into each other as you try to kiss him back, even out your breathing but you just can’t.

Then, Aki’s cock rehardens inside you, even though it’s barely been a minute. Your eyes widen, trying to look down but all the wind is knocked out of you the second Aki moves his hips.

“Ah! Aki— s’too much too much too—”

Aki grabs your chin, squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look at him through blurry vision. “T’aww, s’okay baby, just lay there n’take it, okay?” He says in a nasally, prissly voice.

In addition to Aki fucking your hole and still stroking your dick, he takes your nipple in his mouth. Licking around it, biting the bud and sucking the skin. Your throat hurts from all the whining and moaning you’re doing but you can’t help it. Not when he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow, pushing you well past overstimulation.

Aki’s mouth burns on your skin, raising your body temperature. Everything is hot, too much. Then, tugs on your nipple with his teeth, slightly increasing the arch in your back.

With the abuse of stimulating all your erogenous zones, you feel another knot forming inside you. Even though everything feels too good, your tears stain the sheets, and electricity zips down every bone in your body. You’re so close, so close—

“Remember to count,” Aki warns just as another orgasm washes over you. For a second, you think you blacked out. Your senses dull and your eyes see nothing but darkness. Your voice tethers over the edge of a sob, your body still convulsing.

“C’mon baby, what number are we at?”

“Three! It’s three— Aki, can’t anymore s’too much—”

He interrupts you with a harsh snap of his hips. His hand pauses just before it goes back to your weeping cock. The stretch of time physically hurts, because you don’t know what he might be thinking. “I think you can give me one more, hm baby?”

“Aki!” You try to shout, but your throat won’t let you speak over a whisper. “Can’t, won’t, it can’t, can’tcan’t—”

“Shhh, s’okay baby,” Aki kisses your cheek, using one of his hands to pull you down on his cock. “Just let me do all the work okay? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Realistically speaking he’s always been doing the work so his words don’t hold much value. You don’t think that if you’re thinking of anything at all.

Aki’s hips begin to move again, his mouth latches onto your nipple and you don’t think you can breathe anymore. Continuing to rub your cock, he takes two fingers and adds them into your hole, with his cock still inside.

“Aahh! A-Ak—”

“I know baby, shhh, s’okay…” Aki says, pleased. The noises coming from your mouth are absolutely filthy, they sound straight out of a porno, vulnerable and embarrassing. His fingers and his cock move at an uneven pace, making it hard to tell left from right and up from down.

There’s no way you can cum again, it’s impossible. Even then, Aki still keeps going. There’s an unforgivable assault on your g-spot, the tip of his thumb toying and playing with the slit of your cock.

The pleasure is there, unmistakably so, but it hurts. It’s too much but not enough, everything is hot, too hot and—

“Can’t can’t can’t—”

“S’why I’m here, baby.” Aki’s voice sounds so distant even though you know he’s right there.

You shake your head furiously. “It won’t– Aki it can’t,” you cry, snot dripping down your nose.

Your skull melts into nothing when you feel that knot swell up inside you, it hurts, it's too much, it can’t. “There we go, you’re close, right baby?”

You feel like reality splits the second you cum on Aki’s cock. It dribbles out pathetically, borderline dry. Aki’s hips stutter as he cums inside you, his second time.

Yet, he still has the stamina to force you to face him. “Number?’”

“F…four,” Your voice breaks as you sniffle. You missed Aki’s hands on you, even if it was something small like this.

He pulls out and immediately goes to cradle you when he sees the tears only increase in intensity. “Baby? Hey, did I do something wrong? Does anything hurt?”

You can’t find it in yourself to talk, but you have to reassure him somehow. So you shake your head, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Can you tell me anything? Color?” There’s worry in his voice and you can’t help but love him more. Even if he just fucked you and your brain stupid.

Weakly, you hold up one finger, hoping that is enough to get the message across. He looks confused for a brief moment before all the worry washes off his face. “But seriously, why are you crying?”

“L…love you, s’muh…” Your voice is nothing less than grainy like you’ve been a chain smoker for twenty years.

Aki’s expression softens as he places a kiss on your cheek, using his thumb (not soiled with your cum) to wipe the tears off your cheeks. You try to stay awake so Aki doesn’t have to clean up alone.

You’re sure you were awake, but you don’t exactly remember getting into the warm sheets with a fresh new set of clothes on as Aki spoons you.

174 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 7 months

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Hello, i love your work omg!! I had a request for another Joel angst <3 I had an idea where reader decides to sell Joel's watch in the QZ and gifting him a new one (obv not knowing the meaning behind the watch) Joel gets angry and reader becomes heartbroken and decides to look for the watch and gets rly injured by gangs in the QZ and Joel gets worried/goes after her!

OMG Hi Bestie!

You sent me this forever ago but I'm in love with this ask and then went totally overboard and ANYWAY here's the angstiest ask I've ever had, I hope you love it as much as I love you!!

The Watch

You try to do something kind for Joel but things backfire in a way you never expected.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: SMUT! Canon-typical violence. I did almost no proofing on this so... ya know. Basically no age-gap, reader is 3 years younger than Joel. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 12.2k (LOOK I'M SORRY OK I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME EITHER.)

March, 2010

Sometimes, you weren’t sure you knew Joel Miller at all.

It was a strange sensation, when you thought about it. You’d known him for almost three years now. You’d first met him and his brother, Tommy, when they moved in a few doors down from you in the Boston QZ. Both handsome, both around your age - Tommy a bit younger, Joel a bit older - both beat down by what the world had become.

But the last thing seemed to apply to everyone in the QZ. Life now was hard. That’s just the way it worked now, as much as you wished that weren’t the case.

You’d managed to land a relatively good job in the grand scheme of things. You were a chef before, you ran part of the kitchen at a ritzy banquet hall in the city. You were used to feeding a crowd and FEDRA definitely had a crowd to feed every day, what with guards and all.

It wasn’t much like it was before. There was very little joy in it, the process reduced to the barest minimum: Feed people so they stay alive. But you liked trying to find ways to make the food good, different from day to day. You still took pride in your work, even as the overly long days threatened to wear you down. You still wanted to try to make people happy with your work.

Which is how you ended up getting to know Joel and Tommy in the first place. You showed up at their door a few days after they moved in with a few plates of food in hand, still hot below the tin foil they were wrapped in.

“Yeah?” Joel said, voice gruff.

“Hi!” You said brightly, not taking his attitude personally. Everyone was gruff here. You were used to it. You introduced yourself before pressing on. “I hadn’t seen you both around the QZ before so I thought you might be new and want a little something while you’re settling in, maybe stretch those ration cards a bit further…”

“What’s in it for you?” Joel cut you off, looking you up and down.

It was like he was finding every flaw you’d ever been afraid you had, his eyes raking over you fiercely.

“Nothing,” you smiled, even though it felt forced. “Just wanted to do something nice!”

“Bullshit.”

“Joel, you scarin’ the neighbors?” Tommy asked, coming alongside his brother and opening the door wider.

“Not at all,” you smiled, a little more genuinely this time.

Tommy introduced himself and Joel, who just grunted at you.

“I brought dinner,” you said, holding the plates out. “Just thought you might want a break after getting here is all.”

“That is real sweet of you,” Tommy smiled, taking the plates. He lifted one to his nose and breathed deep. “Smells real good, too. You a cook or something?”

“Or something,” you smiled. “I used to be a chef but now I just cook for FEDRA. This is better than that, though. Anyway, I hope you like it and welcome to Boston!”

“Thank you,” Tommy smiled broader. “Hope to see you around!”

You started coming back to see Tommy. He was kinder, he seemed like he was happy to see you. Which you appreciated. You didn’t have many people in the QZ, it was nice to have someone who felt like a friend who lived so close.

You’d come by twice more and chatted with Tommy for a bit the next time you saw Joel at all. You knocked on their door with a loaf of bread in hand and Joel opened it, frowning at you.

“He ain’t here,” he said before you had a chance to say anything.

“Oh,” you tried not to look disappointed. It seemed like that would be rude. “Well, I made a few loaves of bread today. I thought you might want one!”

You held it out, an offering.

He took it.

“Still not sure why you’re doin’ this,” he said, almost sneering. “You just never work? FEDRA jobs that kush?”

“No,” you frowned. There was the familiar pinch of tears at the back of your throat. “No, I work 12 hours a day six days a week, I just… I like to share.”

You turned to go before you started crying in front of him, like an idiot. You’d always been overly sensitive, too open-hearted your mom had always said. It didn’t serve you well in the apocalypse.

“Wait,” he said. You stopped but didn’t turn around, tears starting to slip down your cheeks. “Shit, I… Look. I’m not trying to be an asshole, OK? Just… Haven’t exactly had many people be nice for the sake of bein’ nice in a while. Feels hard to believe. Would… would you want to come inside? Don’t exactly got much at the moment but there’s coffee. Could make us some.”

You dried your eyes on the back of your wrists and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Yeah,” you sniffed a little before turning around. “Yeah, OK. Coffee sounds good.”

It was awkward at first. Joel was stiff, clearly not used to having someone else around who wasn’t his brother. It reminded you of when you’d adopted a dog from the shelter when you were in your 20s. You brought him home to your apartment and let him off the leash and it was like he didn’t know what to do. He could recognize that this was a home, that it had a kitchen and a living room and a couch. He just couldn’t find his place in it. An interloper. Something that needed a map to help navigate a new yet familiar land.

“How are you liking Boston?” You asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.

He shrugged.

“Fine,” he said. “Still tryin’ to figure out if it’s better than out there or not.”

You nodded slowly.

“I’ve wondered that, too,” you said. “But I’ve never been out there. I’m just not sure it’s worth it to try and figure out the difference.”

He was almost kind while you were there. Well, definitely kind by Joel standards, almost by anyone else’s. But you’d take what you could get. Especially since you imagined that would be the last time something like that would ever happen.

You were wrong.

When you made pasta a few days later - the sauce surprisingly good for something thrown together from leftovers from the guards’ mess hall - you brought plates a few doors down and Joel answered. He invited you in again, even as you tried to just leave the food and go.

The conversation was unlike anything you’d ever really had before. It wasn’t small talk - Joel seemed to find that sort of conversation excruciating - but it wasn’t anything personal, either. It occupied an nebulous third arena, deep and intelligent - discussing things like depictions of the end of the world in fiction and what they’d gotten right and what you thought might becoming because of it - but without offering a glimpse into the core of the other person.

You weren’t sure what to do with any of it. But you liked it. You liked Joel.

It happened a few more times over the next several months, you ending up in an obscure conversation with Joel in his apartment every other week or so, until, one day, things went bad on your walk home from work.

One of your cooks was too sick to work - which said a lot with FEDRA breathing down your necks - and you’d stayed late at the kitchen after, getting things reset for the next day.

It was raining and cold and miserable as you trudged home, looking forward to a hopefully hot shower and your bed, when someone stepped out of the shadows as you turned a corner. .

“Well well,” the man said, making you jump. There was a knife in his hand. You swallowed. “Look what we have here. A FEDRA bitch.”

You looked around quickly, about to take off back the way you came when there was something warm and large against your back.

“Don’t even think about it,” the man’s voice was harsh.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your hands shaking. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I have ration cards, you can have them…”

You felt the man behind you laugh.

“Hear that?” He said. “She thinks we want her ration cards.”

He sneered the last words, taunting you.

“I just…” you began but the man in front of you spoke now.

“We’ll take the ration cards,” he said, stepping closer. “Take a lot else, too. FEDRA killed my sister. Seems only fair we take a few of their bitches in return.”

“Please,” you said softly. “Please, they won’t care, I’m just a cook, they won’t even notice, I’m so sorry about your sister but I’m not…”

The one behind you grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, making you squeal. The other punched you across the face, making you cry out in shock as much as it was pain.

“Then we’ll start with you,” he said. “And take a few others, too. We’ll just take and take and take until they have to pay attention. Won’t we?”

“Yup,” the man at your back put his mouth next to your ear so you could feel his hot breath on your skin. “We could get creative with ‘er. Know you wanted to gut her but now I’m wondering if I could make her choke to death on my cock…”

Your heart was racing, beating so hard against your ribs it felt like it should be bruising from the force of it.

“Please,” you were crying. “Please, I haven’t done anything to hurt anyone, I just…”

“You’re FEDRA,” the man in front of you said, curling his hand into a fist. “That’s plenty.”

You flinched from the blow you knew was about to land, tried to remember what you could about throwing a punch, when a sharp voice broke through the night.

“Hey!”

You opened your eyes just enough to see Joel stalking up.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” He demanded. The man at your back released your hair. Joel didn’t slow down. He just shoved the man in front of you back. “Think you can just fuck with whoever you want around here?”

“You FEDRA now, too, Miller?” He snapped. “Fuckin’ kill you too, maybe make you suck my dick first, too…”

Joel punched him, hard, across the face. So hard the man collapsed to the ground in one hit. The man at your back grabbed you and threw you to the ground and you landed in the mud as he lunged for Joel. He dodged the man easily, throwing a punch to the man’s torso before he grabbed a knife from his belt and thrust it into the man’s stomach. He gasped at it, his mouth agape in shock as Joel pulled the blade up through his gut to his ribs before shoving him to the ground. The man he’d punched first had managed to roll over, trying to get up. Joel held up the knife.

“Try it, Pickett,” he said. “Fuckin’ dare you.”

The man stayed down. Joel nodded, bending to wipe his knife on Pickett’s pants before putting it in the sheath at his belt. He pulled his leg back and kicked the man, hard, in the stomach, right where he’d stabbed the other one.

“She’s under my protection,” Joel snapped. “Tell your fuckin’ friends. I catch any of you fuckin’ with her, I’ll kill every last one of you. Understand?”

Pickett just groaned. Joel dropped to one knee next to the man and took his face in one hand, his fingers sinking harshly into the ruddy flesh of the man’s cheeks.

“Asked you a goddamn question,” he snapped. “Expect an answer or you’re too useless to leave alive. She’s protected. Fuck with her, you die like your fuckin’ buddy. Understood?”

“Understood,” the man managed. Joel freed his face and he slumped down into the mud as Joel straightened back up.

“Good.”

He left the man in the mud before kneeling next to you.

“You alright baby doll?” He asked, his voice weirdly gentle. You sniffed and nodded. “Alright, let’s get you up, get you home and cleaned up….”

He put his hands on you delicately. You realized suddenly that Joel had never touched you before. Even when you handed him food or he gave you a cup of tea or coffee, his fingers never even brushed your own. Now, his hands were fully on you, all overly large and delicate and warm, guiding you into sitting up and then standing. Once you were on your feet, one of those large hands gingerly took your chin and turned your face this way and that, so different parts of your skin caught the light.

“Fucker got you good,” he said, shooting the man who was still alive in the puddle another glare. “C’mon. We’ll get you home, get you all cleaned up. You’ll be OK.”

He tucked you below his arm, guiding you away from the carnage behind you. You turned to look at it, anyway, the still living man crawling through the mud and the rain to his dead friend.

“Don’t,” Joel said, voice oddly gentle. He delicately tucked your head against him, making it so you couldn’t look back. “Don’t need to see that. They don’t fuckin’ deserve it.”

“You killed him,” you said, hating how small and weak you sounded. “Joel, you killed that man, he’s…”

“Barely counted as a fuckin’ man,” he muttered. “Got what he deserved. Don’t worry about it. C’mon, almost back…”

You were strangely numb as you let Joel guide you back to your building. He led you up the stairs and to your apartment door, something that shouldn’t have surprised you - you only lived a few doors down from him and Tommy, after all - you just hadn’t thought he’d ever paid attention.

“Gimme the key,” he said, his arm still around you. You obeyed, your hands still shaking as you got the key from your pocket and handed it over. He unlocked the door and flipped the lights on. You were glad you’d picked your apartment a bit the day before so it was at least neat and relatively clean - at least by QZ standards it was, anyway.

Joel lowered you gently into a chair at your kitchen table and pulled up another one next to you. You frowned.

“What are…”

“Fuckers got a good hit on you,” he said, looking at your face in the light, frowning. “Should’ve just killed them both but that don’t work as well for sending a specific goddamn message….”

It seemed like he was talking to himself, at least in part. You just watched him examine you, his face drawn, eyes tracing over your skin.

“Go get cleaned up,” he said, sitting back from you. You frowned. “You’re covered in mud. Won’t do a damn bit of good to bandage you up now if you’re a mess.”

“Right,” you said, looking down at your body. You’d almost forgotten that part of it. “Um…”

“Be here when you’re done,” he said. “Get you patched up. Go shower.”

You took a last look at him, acutely aware of the mud dripping onto your carpet, before you went to your bathroom, stripped down and climbed in the shower. You tried not to think about the fact that Joel Miller was just… sitting in your apartment.

It didn’t make any sense. It was Joel. Why had he even bothered to stop? Why had he intervened at all? He seemed to think of you as little more than a nuisance but he saved you. Killed a man for you. Told another that you were under his protection, all but told him to let the whole of the QZ know it. And now he was just sitting at your kitchen table, waiting for you to get out of the shower so he could take care of you.

You stayed under the mercifully warm water longer than you needed to trying to come up with an answer. The best thing you could come up with was that he felt like he owed you for all the food you’d brought over the last few months - though murder seemed like a high price for some bread and dinners.

In your almost dazed state, you hadn’t thought to bring more clothes into the bathroom with you, a fact that occurred to you when you were still in the shower. You groaned. At least there was a robe in the bathroom so you wouldn’t need to dart across the hall to your bedroom while wrapped in nothing but a damn towel.

But when you stepped out of the bathroom in a haze of steam and wrapped in a terrycloth robe that went almost to your ankles, Joel was standing at the mouth of the hall. He looked up at you and blinked twice, frozen where he stood. You froze, too. You weren’t entirely sure why, if maybe you felt like prey under his gaze, a rabbit hoping that stillness would keep the wolf from gutting you, or if the heat inside you made you want to be cracked open wide to the very center of you and consumed.

“Better,” Joel said after a moment before jerking his head toward the kitchen table. “In here, where it’s light.”

“But…” you tried to protest, overly aware of your own nakedness below your robe.

“It’s fine,” he cut you off. “C’mere.”

You kept your eyes on him as you obeyed, moving slow and cautious for the kitchen table, never turning your back to him. You still weren’t sure why.

The seat you were in before had been cleaned, as had your floor, no sign of the splatters of mud. Instead, there was a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton balls and gauze on your kitchen table.

“Sit,” Joel ordered. You obeyed without hesitation. He took the seat close to you again, reaching to the leg of your chair and jerking you forward, the wood groaning as it scratched across the linoleum of your floor. He took your chin in his hands again and examined your skin, his face close to yours. You could smell him, the rain water on his skin, the remnants of laundry soap, the bite of something wild that you couldn’t place but seemed to blend with his rough beard and flannel shirt. “Not exactly a doctor but don’t think you need stitches. Just gotta keep you from getting infected. Unless you’d rather go to the damn clinic…”

“No!” You said it quickly, probably too forcefully. You cleared your throat. “No, I… No clinic. I don’t want to cause any issues and I don’t want them to ask too many questions…”

You didn’t want anything that would tie the dead body that was going cold in the rain a few blocks away to you or Joel.

“Good,” Joel said. He dabbed the rubbing alcohol on your cut cheek, making you hiss in pain but you held still. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, even with the rough callus of them. “You’re doin’ good, baby doll. Almost done.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, his brows drawn together as he concentrated on you before picking up the gauze and taping it over the injured skin.

He released your face when he finished and sat back in the chair. You crossed your arms over your stomach, watching him for a moment. You’d always known that Joel was handsome. That was a simple fact, anyone with working eyes could see it. But it had always been a somewhat neutral statement. He was handsome but he was also cold and gruff and seemed to barely tolerate you outside of the unusual conversations you had when you brought something by and Tommy was unexpectedly absent. Even then, you’d gotten the impression that he was humoring you for Tommy’s sake, not out of any kindness or affection toward you. He was handsome but you’d never had anything more than a passing attraction to the man because thinking about how he must look at you, see you, hurt.

But it was like a switch had flipped since Joel had saved you. Like the only thing that had been keeping you from looking at him and wanting him had been the idea that he wouldn’t want you in return. Some kind of protective measure meant to save you from getting attached to something hopeless because, at the end of the world, what was the point of attachment without hope?

“Thank you,” you said when you realized you’d been quiet for too long.

Joel shrugged.

“Anyone fucks with you again, tell me,” Joel said. “Idiots should know better now, but…”

You nodded slowly. Joel watched you for a moment before getting up and going to your kitchen. He got a towel from a drawer and filled it with ice before coming back and moving his chair closer to yours and pressing it against your bandaged skin. Your fingers covered his, meaning to take the ice pack from him, but he left his hand there, cradling it to your face. Your eyes met his, all dark and deep and wounded and you swallowed, hard.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, whispering more than fully talking. Like it was a secret you were asking at all.

“Didn’t deserve what they were about to do to you,” he said. His eyes were still on yours. You were closer to him than you’d ever been before. Your hand slid from his down his arm to his elbow, fingers twisting in the fabric of his sleeve. You watched his jaw tense for a moment. “Didn’t… Couldn’t see you hurt.”

You leaned into him. You couldn’t help it, drawn into his strength and warmth, the comfort of his safety and sudden kindness so overwhelming it was a force unto itself. It was almost a surprise when you kissed him, that his lips were on your own.

The kiss was only soft and gentle for a moment. Just long enough for Joel to drop the ice pack to the floor, his hand gently holding your bandaged face, ensuring he kept your mouth at the right angle. His other hand went to your waist, grabbing you almost roughly, pulling you sharply onto his lap with a surprised squeak. You were straddling Joel and damn near naked doing it, the only thing between you his jeans and the robe that was caught between your thighs.

You froze as his fingers tightened on you, his lips growing more insistent, the heat in you building and burning but you weren’t sure what to do with it all.

But he wasn’t slowing down or pulling away. His kiss deepened and the hand that was at your waist moved to the small of your back, adjusting you so that your core was pressed tightly to his growing length in his jeans. You moaned into his mouth, involuntarily rocking your hips against his hardening cock. Your arms went around his neck and you pressed yourself closer to him, dipping your tongue into his mouth to taste him. Joel’s hips pressed up against yours and you could feel his bulge against you, the heat of him making your core tighten and ache.

Joel’s hands left your face and your back, coming around to the knot on the front of your robe. He pulled his lips from yours and looked down at your body as he untied it. He looked you in the eye - a silent request for permission, it seemed - and you didn’t stop him as his hands slid inside the fabric and pushed it away from you.

Your skin was still warm from the shower and the shock of the cool air against you made you shiver. Joel didn’t seem to notice. His hands moved almost reverently for your waist, then your breasts, his callused fingers running over your soft, smooth skin, cupping the heavy globes of flesh, running his thumbs over your pebbled nipples.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathed before kissing you again, your tits still in his hands. You pulled him closer, tighter, not caring if you seemed like some kind of rabid whore as you ground your leaking slit down on his still clothed cock.

His hands ranged over you as he all but devoured your mouth, grip getting harder, kiss getting more desperate before he separated from you once more, panting for breath, pupils blown.

“Let me fuck you,” his chest was heaving. He didn’t say it like a question or even a plea. He said it like it was a foregone conclusion, that he was going to have you and this was a formality.

You could only nod and he shoved your robe to the floor before taking you in his arms and carrying you to your couch. He ripped his shirt over his head and cast it aside before hurriedly stepping out of his boots and shoving his pants and underwear down and off, his cock full and hard, making your eyes go wide. It’s not like you were a virgin or anything, you’d been in your early 30s when the outbreak happened, you’d had your fair share of men. You’d just never seen a cock quite that thick.

Joel looked down at you on the couch, one of his hands wrapping around his length and stroking it once, twice, before gathering the precome leaking from his head and spreading it over himself.

“Joel,” you swallowed hard as he adjusted your legs and climbed between them. “I don’t think…”

“It’ll fit, Baby Doll,” he was still breathless as he jerked himself. “I’ll make it fit. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry…”

You nodded, not really sure you believed him, but the gnawing need inside you was overwhelming any resistance you felt as he lined his fat, almost purple head with your weeping hole. You sat up on your elbows, watching where he was going to enter you - or try to enter you, at least.

“Already so wet,” he ran his head up and down your slit, gathering your slick. “Make you feel so good, fill you up so good, promise baby…”

He pushed himself inside you then, a grimace on his face until his head almost popped into your tight channel, pulling a shocked gasp from you. He was hardly inside you but you could still feel the burning stretch of him. His thumb went to your clit and brushed it at first, making you shudder, before working you in tight, firm circles. He fucked just the tip of him in and out of you, keeping the pressure on your sensitive nub as he did. You rocked your hips against him, you couldn’t help it, your orgasm already closer than you’d expected it to be.

“See?” He panted. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

With that, he thrust into you the rest of the way, making your eyes go wide and a high pitched whine leave you. You couldn’t look away from where he was filling you, the stretch unlike anything you’d ever felt before. He was so big you could see the outline of him between your hips, a foreign swell where he’d made space inside you to fill.

“Joel,” you whimpered below him. You could feel him twitch inside you, like he was inches away from orgasm already. “Fuck, I need a minute, you’re too big, I need…”

“Fuck,” he groaned, tipping his head back, his hands finding your waist. But he was still inside you even though you could feel that he wanted to fuck you hard and fast. Your body adjusted, the almost painful strain of taking him fading to an overwhelming fullness that had you starting to rock your hips against him, desperate for more stimulation. “Fuckin’ Christ, gonna lose it with you doing that, Baby Doll, I need to fuck you, I gotta, won’t hurt you promise I won’t…”

You nodded but you weren’t sure it even registered with him. His grip on your waist tightened and he pulled back from you - slow at first - before thrusting all the way back in, the force of it knocking the air out of you. You groaned as Joel started to fuck you, hard and fast and needy, his thick cock stretching you with every motion.

“Knew you could take it,” he panted. “Told you I’d make it fit.”

You just whimpered, one of your hands finding your clit, the other your breast, working yourself in both places as he pounded into you. Your channel grew tighter around him, your orgasm close.

“There you go,” he kept up his almost brutal pace. “Fuck yeah, make yourself come on this cock, come all over my fuckin’ cock while I wreck this little pussy, do it, fucking come for me.”

You couldn’t help it, you came so hard you cried out with it, your hands stilling as you pulsed over Joel and he fucked you through your orgasm. He never stopped, never even slowed. If anything, he slammed into you harder and faster and your overwrought pussy almost hurt with it.

“Fuck, can I come in you?” He asked. “Please… fuck… please, gotta come in you, need to come in you, fuck Baby I’m coming, gonna fill you up, fuck!”

He pressed himself deep and exploded inside you there before you had a chance to tell him either way, the hot ropes of his come coating your inner walls. He collapsed forward onto you, his head over your shoulder and pressed into the cushion of your couch as he caught his breath. You could feel him leaking out of your spent hole as he went soft inside you. You slowly, hesitantly put your arms around him, stroking his back for a moment. Part of you was unsure what, exactly, had just happened. If it meant anything at all.

“Fuck,” he sat up from you and pulled his cock from your body. He was glistening with the blend of you and him together. He looked down at you, still a little breathless, as you were splayed out before him. You remembered, suddenly, what it was like to look down at a chicken you’d split while butchering, all hollowed out, its only remaining purpose - to be consumed - laid bare. “Fuck, I… I don’t…”

You sat up on your elbows again and looked down between your legs. His come was leaking from you. You looked back up at him, acutely aware of your vulnerability but hiding anything from him felt wrong.

“It’s OK,” you said quietly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I… I’m sorry, I…”

He stopped and got off the couch, getting his clothes from the floor. He pulled his underwear and jeans on quickly before retrieving your robe from beside your kitchen table. He lowered it gently onto your stomach. You stared at it for a moment before sitting up and sliding it on. You cinched the tie around your waist.

“Are you…” he trailed off as he shrugged back into his shirt, his brown eyes ranging over you again and again.

“I’m fine.”

He nodded.

“Right,” he said. “Right, OK…”

He stepped into his boots, not bothering to adjust the laces. But then, he only lived a few doors down.

Oh God, he only lived a few doors down.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly after he was fully clothed again. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, getting up and crossing your arms over yourself, thankful that your robe was long and covered most of you. “I… I wanted it.”

“Right,” Joel nodded. “That… we can’t do that again, OK? It’s not smart. Probably best if we…”

“Sure,” you just nodded again. “Yeah, OK.”

“Good,” he said, going for your door. He stopped to look at you. “Take care of yourself. Let me know if you run into any more trouble.”

“I will,” you nodded. “Thanks, Joel.”

He gave you a nod and just left you there, his come dripping out of you and his bandage on your cheek.

That was the first time you fucked Joel Miller.

It wasn’t the last.

You came by a few weeks later, almost positive that it would just be Tommy home but it was Joel who answered the door.

Once you got through the awkwardness of the hellos and the handing off of biscuits, you tried to leave, even though your core was tight and achy being so close to Joel again. Like he’d imprinted himself inside you, the shadow of him still there as a reminder. But Joel wasn’t having it. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled you around to face him before pressing you back into the wall and all but shoving his tongue into your mouth. He fucked you right there, against the wall of his living room, and when your thoughts weren’t blinded by orgasms you were just praying that his brother didn’t come home and find the two of you like this.

When it was over, he stepped back from you, his eyes wide as he panted for breath and said over and over that it couldn’t happen again. That it wasn’t smart, not when you were neighbors and you were all stuck here like this. That he didn’t want any kind of anything with anyone. That it was a waste of time.

It took until about the fifth time for Joel to stop saying it couldn’t happen again. For him to just accept it. He showed up at your door most nights now. He had for more than a year now. You weren’t entirely sure what your relationship actually was. You slept better when Joel was wrapped around you, even when he jerked in his sleep as nightmares plagued him. If you had an utterly miserable day, he sometimes listened to you vent about it before he fucked you silly. He brought you things he thought you’d like when he made smuggling runs outside the QZ, like a magpie who sought out books and baking equipment. You made him dinner and cut his hair when it got too long and didn’t ask questions when you bandaged up his knuckles at the end of a long day.

But Joel had never so much as told you that he liked you, let alone anything close to love. Even though you loved him. It had taken you some time to realize that you had. You’d become numb to a lot since the outbreak. Love was a risk, one that your subconscious mind seemed itching to keep you away from. Especially from someone as distant as Joel. You’d been fucking no one but him for more than a year now and you’d only learned within the last month that he was a contractor before the end of the world.

You wanted to do something nice for him. Something that might let him start to love you. At least like you as something more than someone to fuck, anyway. And you had the perfect thing in mind.

That day, Joel rolled you over in the early morning hours, kissing you deeply in the dark, enough to start to wake you up.

“Have a good day,” your words were slurred and mushy in your sleep but he seemed to get the picture.

“Think you’ll have an easier time of it, I’m on sewer duty,” he kissed you one more time, just a peck on the lips. “See you tonight.”

“Mmmm.”

You waited until you were sure Joel was gone for the day before you turned on the lamp beside your bed and found Joel’s watch on the nightstand.

He never took the darn thing off except to sleep. He always wore it, every day. Except the days he was on sewer duty. He left it at home or at your place then, the face of it cracked and the mechanism so broken it didn’t work anymore. But he still wore it every damn day. He’d never told you why.

You ran your thumb over the broken glass of the face for a moment before setting it back down and getting dressed in your kitchen uniform and pocketing the watch.

Your shift started in an hour and a half, giving you what you hoped was enough time to get the errand you’d been planning done. You had to venture most of the way across the QZ to do it, traveling to the black market shops where you knew a lot of what Joel smuggled in wound up. It was still early there, people setting out what was on offer, and you found the one person you knew of in the QZ who dealt in things like jewelry and watches. Even though he’d always struck you as slimy every time he’d talked to you when you’d walked by his stall when on the hunt for something else.

“Hey there pretty lady,” he smirked. “Finally coming to see me?”

“I was wondering if you could fix something for me,” you said, getting the watch out and handing it over. “It’s my… it belongs to my friend. The face has been broken forever and I don’t think it tells time anymore. Think it’s fixable?”

He took it and frowned down at it, turning it over in his fingers.

“Kind of a piece of shit to waste the energy on fixing it,” he said before looking back up at you. “Could find you something better, get you a deal…”

“I’d rather get that one fixed if you can,” you smiled. “I don’t mind the price.”

He nodded, looking back down at it.

“Well, it’s beat to shit,” he said. “But I’ll give it my best shot or find something good to replace it with, how about that? Even buy this piece of crap off you, I’m sure I can use it for parts. Give you a discount on the watch itself.”

There was a twinge in your gut at that, the idea of maybe trading Joel’s watch away. It must have sentimental value if he wore the broken thing that much. Or maybe it was just force of habit? He didn’t have one that worked but felt naked without it?

“Sure,” you smiled. “When do you think you’ll know?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Come back, see me. I’ll let you know what I can figure out.”

You walked to work excited to see Joel that night. You were sure he was going to like the watch thing. Maybe it could be the start to something new, something good. After so long of living in limbo with him, you sure hoped it was.

***

Joel fucking hated sewer days.

They paid the best but it was disgusting work. The only worse job, in his opinion, was burning infected bodies. At least the sewer didn’t have dead kids.

Otherwise, it was worse.

He went by his apartment first to shower and get cleaned up before heading toward yours.

Joel was reluctant to admit it even to himself - especially to himself - but he’d grown attached to you over the last few years.

He’d never meant to fuck you.

It had been an accident, the first time. Or, at least, as much of an accident as fucking someone could be. He’d always thought you were pretty. You were beautiful, truly. Beautiful enough that he couldn’t pretend that you weren’t. So he moved on from that fact. But you were also sweet and kind, nicer to him than he deserved. He tried to keep you at arm’s length but you’d somehow managed to insert yourself into his life in ways he hadn’t expected. He liked being around you, he liked to look at you, he liked to imagine what it would feel like to be inside you. Falling into fucking you had been easy, so damn easy.

It helped that you didn’t ask anything of him. That you put up with shit from him that he doubted you’d have tolerated in the before times. But you were lonely here, that much was clear, and Joel was someone. He took advantage of that fact, he knew. He knew he should be better for you. Try to be more. Try to be something at all. But he wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore, if it had ever existed for anyone but Sarah at all. It seemed like it would be cruel to both of you to try.

So he didn’t.

He was lucky that you seemed fine with that. Even if he really wasn’t.

He beat you to your apartment. Not surprising, sewer shifts started early and ended early, and he let himself in to wait for you, going to get his watch off the nightstand first.

Joel felt naked without it. Almost like he was betraying his daughter when he didn’t wear it, that he’d somehow decided the last thing she’d done for him wasn’t good enough anymore. But wearing it on sewer jobs was too big a risk. If it fell off there, he’d never find it again and he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if that happened. So he left it wherever he slept the night before - as likely to be your place as his anymore - and always put it back on the second he got cleaned up.

But it wasn’t on your nightstand. He frowned, looking on the bed - you made it every day, like that shit still mattered - but it wasn’t there. He got down on his hands and knees and looked around the nightstand, below it, under the bed. He ripped the sheets off and shook them out, took the pillows out of their cases. His heart was pounding. It had to be here it had to.

He went to the bathroom next, maybe he’d taken it off in there the night before even though he never had before but he searched there, too. He was taking all the cushions off your couch when he heard your key in the door. He kept searching as you came in, not even looking up at you.

“Joel!” He heard you drop your keys and your bag and then your hands were on him, pulling him back from the couch and making him stand up straight. He was breathless. He had to find it, it had to be here. Fuck, what if he put it on this morning and it fell off on the job and he hasn’t noticed? What if it was gone? “What are you…”

“My watch,” he said, looking around the room for where to search next. “I… my fucking watch, left it here this morning, almost positive I left it here but I can’t find it and I need that watch, Baby Doll, I gotta…”

“Joel,” you smiled a little, putting your hands on his forearm. “It’s OK. You did leave it here but… well, it was supposed to be a surprise…”

His stomach dropped.

“What did you do.”

You took your hands back, smile fading at his tone. Your eyes went a little wide.

“I noticed that it’s broken,” your voice was quiet. “And I thought it was something that might be fixable…”

“What the fuck did you do?!”

You shocked back from him. Joel had never so much as raised his voice to you before and he was screaming now.

“I took it to a man across town,” you said quickly. “He said he might be able to fix it or find a good replacement and…”

“I don’t want it fucking fixed!” He screamed, pressing closer to you and you flinched back. “I want it the way it was! I want it the way it was when my daughter fucking died!”

You stared at him for a second. He’d never told you about Sarah. He didn’t talk about her. It hurt too much to even consider it, he kept her to himself, her memory saved for quiet spaces where he could let it overwhelm him.

“Your daughter?” You whispered, reaching for him. He stepped back from you, couldn’t handle your fucking hands on him, not now. “Joel, you never… I didn’t…”

“She gave me that watch!” He wasn’t yelling now but there was a tremble in his voice, the barely contained rage slipping through. “She gave me that fucking watch and the day she died she got it fixed for me. It got fucked up by the bullets that killed her because I didn’t do my fucking job as her father, I didn’t protect her! That watch is all I have left of her and you…” He shook his head, his resolve cracking and yelling again. “You fucking gave it away! How could you be that fucking stupid? That fucking careless? What the fuck were you thinking!”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. You were crying, voice shaky. “I… I didn’t know, I just wanted…”

“You think I give a shit what you want?” He yelled, towering over you. “Think I give a shit about you? You’re just some stupid fucking girl I use when I need to get off and you…”

You were cowering back from him and he knew he was scaring you but he couldn’t feel anything past the sharp pain of loss enough to care.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was so quiet he could barely hear you. “Joel, please…”

He glared at you with so much force it made you flinch and stalked out your front door, not bothering to close it behind him.

Joel took the stairs down to the street two at a time and set off, walking quickly as night fell and rain started in a steady drizzle over him. He could think of a few places you’d probably try to take the watch. If he could find it in time… with all the fucking smuggling connections he has in this godforsaken town. He had to be able to find it. He had to.

But he searched all night, went to every goddamn black market dealer he could think of. He was only able to find about half of them, some out who the fuck knows where, and none of them had the watch.

It was daylight again when he returned home, soaking wet and exhausted. He glared at your door as he passed, going to his place to shower and try to warm up.

But without the distraction of searching, the desperate drive to do something because he could, he was forced to feel while standing in the steam and the water.

The pain of the loss of his daughter was there, sharp and acute when he realized he may never again touch something she had also held. The permanence of that somehow making her loss more real than it had been in years. It was gutting. He’d rather be shot or stabbed or have the shit beaten out of him than feel this. At least that was tangible, something he could heal from and not this constant, consuming pain.

But there was also you. You, who had become the only bright spot in this goddamn place. You, who held him when he woke up in a panic and told him that he was safe and that it would be OK. You, just about the only thing that had made him smile in years and who looked at him like he was something worth wanting. Looked at him like there was still a point to him at all.

You’d tried to do something nice for him. You hadn’t known any better, he knew that. He’d just never let you in. Never even told you Sarah existed let alone about the way that she died. How he’d held her, how Tommy had to drag him away from her body, how all he’d wanted to do was join her and he couldn’t even do that right. He’d never told you any of it. He couldn’t blame you for that, not when he was already afraid of how much he cared about you. He was even more terrified of what he knew he could feel for you if he just let himself. It wouldn’t even be hard. Not feeling it was like fighting against gravity. It would only take one slip and he’d fall into it, he knew that.

He got out of the shower and sighed, trying not to think about the watch. About the things he’d said to you. He’d been so panicked, so angry. He had tried to hurt you. Said things he knew were cruel because if he was hurting he wanted you to hurt, too.

But he wasn’t proud of that. He didn’t want you to hurt. He wanted to take care of you and protect you. You were kind and thoughtful and this fucking place hadn’t chewed you up and spit you out yet. He wanted to help you stay that way. Instead, he’d tried to hurt you.

He sighed and got dressed before going to knock on your door. It was your day off, he expected you to be home. Probably reading or baking something. Because apparently cooking all day during the week wasn’t enough, you had to do it on your day off, too.

“Hey!” Your next door neighbor came outside but her face fell when she saw Joel. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were…”

“I’ll tell ‘er you’re looking for her,” Joel said, looking back at the door, waiting for you to answer. But he didn’t even hear you inside. He frowned. He had a key, it just felt wrong to use it after the way he’d spoken to you but maybe he’d need to…

“Thanks,” your neighbor smiled, a plate in her hand. “She’s always making things for my daughter, I finally had enough extra to return the favor but I haven’t seen her since she left last night and…”

“Last night?” Joel’s frown deepened. “What do you mean, when last night?”

“Kind of late,” she frowned back. “After dark, I was just coming back home when I ran into her. Seemed like she was in a big hurry, looked like she might have been upset. I told her I had something for her and she said she’d be back later. I don’t think I missed her but…”

Joel’s heart sped up and he shoved his hand in his pocket, finding his keys. He tuned out the neighbor and had to fight to keep his hands from shaking as he opened your door.

Your apartment was still torn apart from when Joel had been searching it, couch cushions still all over the floor, coffee table askew. He ignored it, half walking, half running to your bedroom.

“What happened?” Your neighbor hovered in the doorway. Joel ignored her, too. He looked in your room, still in total disarray but empty, your uniform on the floor where it hadn’t been before. Your bathroom was empty.

“Fuck!” Joel smacked the wall. You’d left, gone somewhere and not come back. But you’d planned to come back, you’d told your neighbor that you were going to be back later and you hadn’t come home. He went to the woman in the doorway, her eyes still a bit wide as she took in the mess he’d made of your apartment. He took her by the shoulders and she blinked up at him in surprise. “Where was she going? Did she say? Tell you anything at all?”

“N-no,” she stammered, frozen in Joel’s grip. “She didn’t, I’m sorry, I don’t…”

Joel released her, running his fingers through his hair for a moment. Had you gone to try to get the watch back? He’d been so upset, so cruel… You must have. It seemed like something you would do, immediately go to try to fix it. He turned back to the woman, cursing the fact that he didn’t know this about you, that he had kept his distance from you so he wouldn’t know things about you and fall into you in the way that was so tempting to do.

“Know what markets she goes to?” He asked. “Especially for any contraband shit?” She just blinked at him for a moment and he resisted the urge to yell at her. That’s what got him into this situation, losing his fucking temper at someone who didn’t deserve it. He took a deep breath, keeping his voice calm. “I think she went to look for something but I need to know where that would be so I can go find her. Do you know?”

“Yeah,” she nodded after a moment. “Yeah, there’s one across town, in the south end. I’ve run into her there before…”

Joel was out the door before she finished talking. It was one of the places he’d gone the night before but hadn’t found anyone to talk to. He certainly hadn’t seen you there. But it was at least a starting point. He’d find you. He had to.

***

You stared at your open door for a few minutes after Joel left, in too much shock to move.

Joel had a daughter. A daughter who died. The watch had been from her, of course he wouldn’t want it fixed, of course he would wear it every day. And you’d given it to some slimy guy in the contraband market.

After a while, you could make yourself move. You closed your door and went to your room. Joel had turned that upside down, too. Of course he had. Because he was desperate and you’d made him that way.

You got changed quickly, leaving your uniform in a pile on the floor, grabbed a handful of ration cards in case you needed to buy the watch back, and headed out.

“Oh, hey!” Clara, your next door neighbor, almost ran into you on the stairs, her two-year-old on her hip. “I was just going to pop over, I made…”

“That’s so sweet,” you cut her off. “But I’ve gotta run, I’m so sorry. I’ll be back later and should be around tomorrow…”

“OK!” She called after you as you took off. “Be careful out there!”

You moved as quickly as you could manage toward the market, hoping that you could find the man, that he hadn’t started doing anything to the watch, that everything would be OK. Even if Joel hated you now, he shouldn’t lose the one thing he still had from his daughter because you hadn’t thought to ask him about the damn watch.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the man was still there, closing up shop, when you ran up.

“Why hello again,” he smiled, a smile that was smug and lecherous. “Haven’t been home to check my stash for parts yet, pretty girl, but if you wanted to come back with me I bet I could find a way to give you an even bigger discount…”

“That’s OK,” you said, a little breathless. “I actually just want the watch back, just the way it is…”

He frowned.

“It’s still pretty useless…”

“That’s OK!” You said quickly. “Just… please. Please say you still have it.”

He sighed and opened a box, rifling around in it for a moment before pulling it out. But he held onto it, running his thumb over the face of it.

“I was expecting something for fixing this,” he said, glancing up at you before looking down at the watch. “Had plans for those cards…”

You pulled a few ration cards from your pocket and held them out.

“Please,” you said. Even though he hadn’t done any work. You didn’t care. “The cards are yours, just give me the watch.”

He looked almost surprised that getting cards out of you had worked but he took them and gave you the watch. You looked at it for a moment, the broken glass in the face, the time frozen at 2:15. You tucked it in your pocket, the fist that had been clenched around your heart loosening.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “Just… Thank you.”

You started at a more reasonable pace back for your apartment. You’d go to Joel’s, return the watch, apologize again and hope that he wouldn’t still hate you once you fixed it. At least you hoped he wouldn’t be hurting as much, he didn’t deserve that, not after everything he’d been through. You could fix that for him, at least. You had to.

You were so relieved at getting the watch back that you weren’t paying close attention to your walk home. Yes, it was dark and raining and late but you knew the way and, since that day more than two years ago when Joel had saved you, everyone seemed to know you were protected. That you weren’t someone they messed with and expected to live. In hindsight, it made you feel like the QZ was safer than it was. So safe that you were fine walking home alone from a shady corner of town, far from FEDRA guard posts and people you knew.

It was a stupid mistake. You realized that when you heard a voice in the dark.

“Well well.”

The sound sent a chill down your spine. You recognized that voice, the voice of the man who had tried to kill you once.

You froze, eyes wide, an animal caught in a trap.

“If it isn’t Joel Miller’s little FEDRA bitch,” Pickett emerged from the shadows, his hands in his pockets, a few men at his side. Your eyes darted between them. There were six of them that you could see. There was no way you could fight off that many. Hell, you probably couldn’t even fight off one. You’d never been a fighter. “Awful far from home aren’t ya?”

“Heading there now,” you said, voice shaky. “Joel’s expecting me…”

“Well that’s too bad, isn’t it?” He prowled closer. “Guess you’ll have to keep him waiting just a bit longer.”

“You don’t want to do that,” you finally were able to make your legs move, backing away from him. “You know what he said…”

“But he isn’t here, is he?” He smirked. “And he’s the one who left his little toy out for just anyone to take. If you mattered all that much to him, don’t think you’d be out here all alone at this time of night.”

Your eyes darted, looking for the best way to run, but your mind was distracted. The man was right. You didn’t matter to Joel, he’d told you as much, that you were just some stupid girl he used when he needed it. You were just some stupid girl and you were going to wind up dead in the shitty part of the QZ and he’d never get the watch back, the one thing he had left of his daughter, because you’d been too stupid to ask about it. For some reason, that part hurt more than the thought of dying. There wasn’t much to life in the QZ, certainly not much that made life worth living. Joel had become the one thing you looked forward to. It was hard to mourn your own destruction when there wasn’t anything left that was really worth living for.

You tried to run, slipping in the mud as you went. But you were turned around, too panicked to look at street signs or pay close enough attention and, when you wound up at a dead end, you were cornered, the men closing in on you as you backed into a wall.

“Please,” you whispered. “It won’t make a difference to him or to FEDRA, if you want to hurt them, I’m not the way to do it and…”

“Maybe not,” Pickett smiled in a way that was more like the bearing of teeth than an actual smile. “But you sure will be fun.”

Your eyes were so glued to his that you didn’t even see it coming when the first blow sent you to the ground.

***

Joel made it to the market in record time, out of breath and bones reminding him that he was in his 40s now and he’d spent his life breaking his body to survive. He scanned the stalls quickly, finding the man who was the most likely one you’d have gone to, watches and jewelry out on a table in front of him. As if anyone could afford that shit now anyway.

“How can I help you?” The man asked, smiling up at Joel from his seat behind the table. “Looking for something special for a lady friend, perhaps?”

“Looking for my…” he paused. Technically, you weren’t anything to him. “My friend. She would have come here yesterday with a watch…”

“Oh,” he laughed. “Yeah, I know her. Such a pretty thing, a little disappointed she only decided to give me the time of day when she needed something…”

“She was here?” Joel asked, brows raised.

The man smirked.

“Answers are gonna cost you.”

Joel ground his teeth for a second before shooting his arm forward and roughly grabbing the back of the man’s neck, shoving his head down and slamming it into the table, the man giving a yelp of pain when his nose crushed against the wood.

“Fuck!” He swore as Joel pressed his face against the table. He squirmed but Joel held him down. “Jesus Christ, man!”

“Was. She. Here.” Joel’s teeth were clenched, his chest heaving.

“She was here!” The man cried out and Joel released his neck. He panted for breath for a moment and sat up cautiously, cradling the back of his neck. “She was here, last night, she came by, wanted the watch back, she seemed desperate.”

“Where’d she go from here?” Joel demanded.

“What?”

“Where!” Joel screamed, hand curling into a fist, ready to beat the answer out of him.

“Back the way she came!” He covered his head with his arms. “Same place you came from what I could see, please!”

Joel stepped back.

“When was it?”

“Late!” The man said quickly. “Late, she came by late. Right at the end of the day, I was closing up shop, it was dark and raining…”

So you’d made it this far. You just hadn’t made it back home.

“Anyone who runs around here who would give her trouble?” Joel asked. “Keep her from comin’ home?”

“Plenty of people,” the man looked at him like he was insane. Joel glowered at him again and he flinched. “But most likely, Pickett’s gang, saw a few of them last night prowling around, they’ve been causing trouble around here lately. If she ran into trouble, it’s probably with them!”

Joel nodded slowly. Pickett. He knew him. That was the man he’d saved you from before, the jackass had been building up a following of FEDRA hating idiots who seemed bent on causing trouble and hurting people as a way to feel strong by being cruel.

He knew where to find them.

Joel ran there, a crumbling building FEDRA hadn’t done anything with yet that he and Tommy had run drugs to a few times. He pulled the knife he kept at his belt free before he pushed the door open. Whether you were here or not, these were men he wouldn’t care about killing.

The first one was just inside the door. Probably meant to be standing guard but not paying attention, flipping through an old Playboy instead. Joel caught him off guard. He wrapped his hand around the handle of the knife and used it to bolster his punch, the blow landing so hard the man fell backwards off his stool. Joel kicked his gun away and kneeled on the man’s chest, putting the blade to his throat.

“Your boss bring a woman here last night?” Joel asked.

“Not your business, is it?” The man sneered. Joel ground his teeth, covering the man’s mouth to muffle his screams before taking the knife in his hand and thrusting it into the man’s shoulder. Joel waited until he quieted some, gasping below his palm, before he spoke again.

“Scream and I’ll gut you like a fuckin’ fish,” Joel snarled. “Now I’m just about done askin’ nicely. Did your boss bring a woman here last night?”

“Yes!” He said, pleading. “He did, she’s still here, I think she’s still alive, they’re on the second floor, please…”

Joel freed the knife and thrust it into the man’s throat. He didn’t need him anymore. He picked up the gun.

It was easy, finding you then. He shot men as they approached, only half a dozen or so between him and you. But none of them were Pickett.

He found the room he was sure you were in, two men stationed at the door who fired at him when he came around the corner. He ducked out of sight, readied his stolen weapon and exposed himself just enough to shoot. He dropped them both before they could land a shot on him. He took their ammo and changed his clip before listening at the door for a moment. It was quiet.

Joel opened the door slowly, cautiously, but he didn’t need to. You were the only one inside, on the ground in an unnatural looking position. He holstered the gun and ran to you, kneeling beside your prone form. There was a rattle in your breath and you’d been beaten to hell. Even in the dim light, he could see the cuts on your skin, the parts of you he could see swollen and discolored. They’d savaged you, your body broken and bleeding, and you’d only been out here because of him. Because he’d been so angry at you for something that wasn’t your fault. Fuck, you were the only thing left he cared about besides Tommy and you were bleeding because of him. If you died because of him, if he’d failed you the way he’d failed Sarah…

“Please,” you rasped, trying to lift your head but giving up, your eyes closed. Your voice surprised Joel, he hadn’t expected you to be conscious. “Please… I don’t…”

“It’s OK Baby Doll,” Joel said, his voice thick. “It’s me, you’re OK now. Gonna take real good care of you, you’re alright…”

“Joel?” You lifted your head and managed to open one eye. The other was swollen shut. “Joel, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Before he had a chance to stop you from moving, you reached a shaky hand into the pocket of your jeans and pulled out the watch. You held it out to him, your fingers bloody.

“I don’t think it’s any more broken,” you winced. “I tried to protect it, I’m sorry…”

He took it from you, your blood on the face and the band, a tightness in his throat he was struggling to breathe around.

“S’OK Baby Doll,” he said, putting it on his wrist quickly and reached for your head, to try to brush some bloody hair back from your skin, but you flinched away from him. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, it’s not your fault, none of this is your fault.”

You took a deep, shaky breath like you were going to argue with him, but you didn’t get the chance.

“Look who it is.”

Joel stiffened, getting to his feet slowly, turning to face him.

“Almost expected you to not show up,” Pickett smiled. “She seemed damn sure she didn’t mean anything to ya, swore up and down that you wouldn’t even notice she was gone.” Joel’s stomach twisted. “Took you so long I was starting to believe her.”

Pickett prowled closer.

“Course I’d hoped she’d be enough to draw you out,” he said. “Getting tired of tip-toeing around you and your fuckin’ brother. But if she wasn’t, at least she was fun. Didn’t even get a chance to let my guys have the real fun with her yet, though. Figured I’d see if we could knock her teeth out first, bet she’d suck real good then. But looks like you took care of them, so I guess she’s off the hook.”

Joel roared and lunged for Pickett, swinging for him as he did. The other man had either underestimated Joel or overestimated himself, because he tried to dodge him and failed, Joel’s shoulder catching him in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground. Before he had a chance to even get his bearings, Joel was on top of him, screaming as he pummeled him, raining the blows down on his face again and again and again.

For the first time since you’d disappeared, Joel felt like he was really doing something. This man had taken you, hurt you, was going to do more to you. Joel was doing what he was supposed to do. He was protecting you. He felt it in every blow he landed on the man’s face, in every collapsing structure below his skin, in every splash of blood. It wasn’t until he had stopped breathing and the blood had stopped pouring from his open wounds that he stilled, panting for breath as he looked at the mangled face of the man below him.

He stood, flexing his hand and looking at it, the split open knuckles, the mix of your blood and his own and Pickett’s on the watch. He wiped his hand on his shirt and went back to you, kneeling again.

“Joel,” you whimpered.

“He’s dead,” Joel said, his voice thick. “They’re all dead. Warned ‘em. Told ‘em what would happen if they fucked with you.”

He watched you work to swallow around your damaged throat as you nodded.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, fingertips gently tracing your face where you didn’t look battered. You flinched at first but relaxed. “Need to wait a bit to take you home. Too bright outside right now, FEDRA fucks would stop us…”

“Don’t need to worry about me,” you struggled to sit up for a moment before giving up and going limp on the floor. “It’s OK. Already did more than you should have. Go home in case FEDRA comes poking around and…”

“Not leaving you here,” he said gruffly.

You winced as you swallowed and fought to open the one eye you could.

“Don’t put yourself at risk for me,” you managed. “I’m not worth it, you know that and…”

“You’re worth it, Baby Doll,” he said softly, his hand on your face. “About the only thing in this fuckin’ place that is.”

You flinched as you frowned.

“No,” you shook your head a little. “No, you said…”

“Don’t matter what I said,” he cut you off, trying to ignore the stabbing guilt in his chest. Fuck, the things he’d said to you. “I didn’t mean it, didn’t mean a fuckin’ word of it. I was pissed at myself, I was hurting, I took it out on you and I never should have said or done any of it, Baby Doll, never. I didn’t mean it, not a word of it and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back, I wish I could take all of it back…”

He lay beside you, delicately holding your face, his eyes tracing over you. He memorized the damage done, the signs of all the pain he knew you were in. All because he hadn’t told you about Sarah, because he’d hurt you, because he’d failed you. He wouldn’t do that again. He was not going to let you suffer because of him again. You tried to move closer to him but he put his hand on your hip and held you still, instead moving toward you. You winced as you pressed against him but it didn’t stop you. He held you gently, feeling you breathe against him.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” your voice was muffled. “I didn’t mean to, I promise…”

“Shh,” he hushed you, tears stinging his eyes. He’d done this to you. Made you feel like, even this broken, it was your fault. “It’s not your fault. None of it. I’ve got you, Baby Doll. Gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good care of you if you let me. Please let me.”

You were quiet, passing out against him. He held you like that, letting himself feel for you, letting himself fall into that dangerous place with you. He stopped fighting the gravity of loving you until it was dark enough to safely carry you home.

He got you cleaned up, patching you up as best he could before giving you some pain meds from a stash he hadn’t traded away yet and carrying you to bed. He held you there, too, his body curved around yours, shielding you from anything that could hurt you and promised himself, silently, that he’d never see you like this again. Because he was going to take care of you. He was going to protect you, he was going to love you, until there was nothing else left of him and he was dead and gone.

He ran a gentle hand over your head and pressed a kiss to your hair, the glass of the watch reflecting the light of the moon, sending fractured splotches of light on your wall. He wasn’t going to fail again. That much, Joel knew.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller x oc

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wheels-of-despair · 5 months

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A Slightly Late Munson Christmas Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie spent Christmas '85 with Evil Woman, but it's time to go home and celebrate with Wayne… what if he brings her along? Contains: Hangin' with the Munsons, Christmas gifts, a sleepover, Eddie finally accepting that this is not a temporary arrangement. Words: 1.4k

"Wayne's coming home tonight."

You open your eyes and try not to show Eddie how sad you are about him going home. He's been with you most of Christmas break, since his uncle started working overtime, and you'd loved every second of it. But he has to go home sometime.

"I know," you mumble, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. You're nestled into his side, as close as you can be, on the loveseat in your garage. Is it warmer inside? Yes. Do you prefer being out here so Eddie can smoke and you're forced to huddle for warmth? Absolutely.

"Wanna come do Christmas with us?"

"What?" You lift your head to look at him.

"Do you want to come over and have A Slightly Late Munson Christmas with us?" He glances at you, then focuses on the smoke rising from the cigarette in his hand.

You can't fight the grin spreading across your face. "Really?"

"Don't get all excited about it or anything, it's just frozen dinners and whatever's on TV."

He stubs out his cigarette and tries to play it off as no big deal, but you're more excited about this than your own Christmas. Eddie coming to you has become standard, because his uncle works through every holiday. You knew they did a little something together afterward, but he's never invited you to be a part of it before.

"I'd love to."

You shared the plan with your mom, packed a bag, hopped in the van, and went straight to Bradley's Big Buy for the essentials. (TV dinners, beer and soda, some holiday-themed snack cakes that were half-off.)

The trailer was cold when you got there. Eddie turned up the heat, and you both scurried around to straighten up a bit before Wayne came home. Blankets were folded, mugs were washed, ash trays were emptied. You placed your presents for Wayne on the table, as well as a plate of cookies your mom had saved for him.

The tin trays of something slightly resembling food were in the oven and Eddie was in the bathroom when you heard Wayne's truck door slam outside.

He ambles in with half-lidded eyes, and smiles when he sees you leaning against the kitchen counter. "Hey, darlin'."

"Hi, Wayne."

"Hey, old man," Eddie grins, emerging from the hallway.

"Watch it, boy," Wayne warns half-heartedly, causing Eddie's grin to approach Grinch-like intensity.

Wayne sits down in the chair beside the door to unlace his boots. "Y'all have fun?"

"Oh yeah," Eddie says, dropping into the chair across from him. "Stole some lawn ornaments, set fire to some Christmas trees, sacrificed some virgins. The usual."

Wayne sighs and looks to you. "Did he behave?"

"For the most part," you grin. "Chief Hopper let him off with a warning, since it's Christmastime and all."

"You weren't supposed to tell him that!" Eddie stage-whispers angrily.

You chuckle, and Wayne shakes his head. Eddie's watch beeps - which is standing in for the unreliable oven timer - and he reaches for a potholder. He transfers the flimsy foil trays from the oven to the counter to cool, like a pro, then stands next to you.

"Well, while those are coolin', how about presents?"

"Talked to Santa," Wayne says somberly, leaning back to lace his fingers behind his head. "Said he'd have to pass you by this year."

"Well, my girl's mom must've changed his mind, 'cause I had a packed stocking on Christmas morning just like everybody else," Eddie says proudly, hooking his arm around your neck and pulling you close. You wrap an arm around his back and smile up at him, remembering how excited he was every time he pulled out another little gift.

"Really?" Wayne's eyes flick from Eddie to you. You nod subtly, and Wayne smiles. "Well, in that case, I guess it's alright. In the corner, go get 'em." Wayne gestures to his favorite chair. Eddie lets you go with a kiss to the forehead, and goes to investigate. While Eddie's ass is in the air, leaning over the chair and trying to reach the gifts behind it, Wayne looks to you.

"When he was little, I had to lock his presents in the toolbox on my truck. Such a sneak. Gettin' lazy in his old age."

"Not lazy," Eddie grumbles, bringing a few packages wrapped in newspaper to the table. "Just knew I'd never get anything cooler than the Stretch Armstrong that Santa brought me when I was 9." He puts the items on the table and heads for the door. You raise an eyebrow and stay put. He comes back with a bucket, which he flips over and sits on. "C'mon," he says, patting the chair he'd recently vacated.

You sat around the table and exchanged presents while Eddie filled Wayne in on your first real Christmas together, and what "Santa" had filled his stocking with. When your tinfoil dinners were cool enough to handle without burning off your fingertips, you moved to the living room. Wayne propped himself up in his favorite chair, and you and Eddie took the couch. Eddie found an old western on TV, and you ate in a comfortable silence.

When you finished eating, you and Eddie stacked your trays on the coffee table, but made no move to get up. He put an arm around you, you cuddled into his side, and he covered you both with a blanket.

The Slightly Late Munson Christmas was very different from Christmas at your house, but you loved it just as much.

You were rubbing absent-minded patterns on Eddie's leg when a snore rumbled through the room. You jumped in surprise, and Eddie let out a quiet chuckle.

"C'mon," he whispers. "Let's let the old man crash."

You stand and quietly gather your trays and cans - and Wayne's - and take them to the trash can. You place the forks in the sink one by one to avoid clattering while Eddie pulls out Wayne's creaky fold-up bed. The lights are turned off, except for the one above the stove, and you retreat to Eddie's room and close the door.

"Is the chair bad for his back? Should you wake him up?" you ask with concern, sitting on the edge of Eddie's bed.

Eddie shakes his head with a smile and unbuttons his jeans. "He drank two beers, he'll be up to wiz in an hour anyway. Then he can crawl into bed and let the sugar-plum fairies… dance or strip or whatever."

You snort, and he dives into bed in boxers and the t-shirt he'd been wearing all day. You, a more civilized kind of person, slip into the bathroom to change into pajamas. When you return to Eddie's room, he's ditched his shirt and is lying there in bed in what you assume is an attempt at a seductive position.

You roll your eyes and crawl over him, unaffected. He pouts and flips over, so you're lying there facing each other.

"Thanks for inviting me to A Slightly Late Munson Christmas," you whisper.

"Thanks for putting up with me all week," he smiles.

"I want to put up with you all the time."

"Your window to get rid of me is like," he squints and pushes his thumb and index fingers together to leave just a sliver of space, "this close to closing forever."

You reach out and use your own fingers to push his together.

"You're mine, Munson."

Eddie's mouth slips into a lopsided smile, and he leans forward for a kiss. When he pulls away, he looks at his watch and laughs.

"You know it's like 9:30, right? And we're in bed like old people."

"I'm sure we can think of something to keep ourselves awake…" you smirk.

"Yeah?" He waggles his eyebrows. "Wanna make out a little?"

"Eh… I guess," you shrug, like that wasn't your intention all along.

Eddie scoffs and flips over to lie on his other side, facing away from you. He crosses his arms with a dramatic "hmph!"

"Aww," you tease, moving in close and spooning him from behind. You wrap your arm around his middle and nuzzle your cheek to his back. Eventually, his hand closes over yours.

"This was the best Christmas ever," you mumble into his back.

"Hell yeah, it was," he yawns, giving your hand a squeeze.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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vaya-writes · 4 days

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Infernal Assistance (Option Four) - 2

You’ve been struggling to survive in a zombie apocalypse. Things are looking really bad before a demon swoops in to help. But that demon is an incubus. And he’s in need of help too.

Reader (GNC pronouns, AFAB, asexual spectrum) x incubus (cis male). Situationship. Allies to lovers. Zombie apocalypse AU. Banner by saradika-graphics. Wordcount: 2300.

Content Warnings: apocalypse setting, discussion and mild depiction of malnourishment, light discussion of sex, off screen implied violence and gore.

Masterlist - A03 - Previous

You might have felt self conscious inviting a strange demon into your cramped little apartment, if you weren’t so hungry.

Gesturing him in behind you, you don’t even spare him a glance as you make a beeline to your pantry. There’s an open packet of crackers inside, a tupperware container of oats, and four small tins of assorted vegetables left.

You don’t touch the crackers. Even stale, they can be eaten. You decide on a tin of beans today. If the fridge still worked you could ration out perhaps six meals from the tin (a bite and a half, three times a day, for two days). But you don’t want to get food poisoning on top of everything. So you’d consume the whole tin over the course of twenty four hours. Today’s lunch and dinner, and tomorrow’s breakfast. Three full bites per meal. Approximately.

Your hands shake as you remove the pull-lid from the tin. You’re careful not to spill a drop of bean juice, bringing the rim to your lips and drinking. Your stomach clenches at the flavour and you take your time eating. You don’t know how long somebody has to forgo eating before reintroduction of foods becomes difficult.

You make sure to chew each bean, even as you grimace at the flavour; they’re not something you enjoy eating by themselves. And when a third of the food is gone, you pull out your makeshift foil lid and fasten it over the tin. You put the food back in the pantry.

“Food’s scarce for you too, huh?” Your guest speaks.

You don’t reply for a minute. Your hands are still shaking. You’d like to go and lie down. To sleep off the rest of this awful day. But there’s still an important conversation to be had. So you take a deep breath and turn to face the demon.

“Are you going to stay?”

The demon stills for a moment. Perhaps surprised by your bluntness. Before relaxing. Gesturing to the couch.

You sit, your knees drawn up to create a barrier between you and the demon when he perches on the other end of the couch. He’s massive, and takes up most of the available space.

“You’ll let me feed on you?”

You’ve already come to terms with that. If the incubus stays, you’ll have to keep him fed. But there’s no point in keeping him around just to watch you starve. He’ll need to earn his keep. And today, you negotiate how.

“If you help me in turn.”

He seems to sense your seriousness, and pivots to properly face you. “What do you need?”

“For starters? Protection. From zombies. Thieves. Any other external threats.”

He nods. “Simple enough. What else?”

“I’ll need supplies. Food. Water. Potentially medicine. I’m willing to scavenge, but not alone.”

Something in his face twitches. An expression masked. But he nods again. “I can play bodyguard. That all?”

You consider your plan for the future. What you would have done, ideally, if you were braver. If there were less zombies in your building. If you were desperate. Or reckless.

“Last request. I want you to head to ground floor and pick up the keys to the other apartments. A master key if you can find one. And then I want help clearing the zombies from them.”

The demon crosses his arms. There’s that twitch in his face again, before he bites his lip. “This is a big building.”

“And I’d like to clear it. One floor at a time. It’ll be the safest way to scavenge too.”

“The husks might come back upstairs when we rest.”

“We’ll build barricades.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I’ve had little else to do.”

There’s silence for a moment. You think he’s considering. But you keep talking. “Originally, I would have had to do this to open apartments only. But if they’re open, it’s probably for a bad reason. I doubt they’d be safe. If you get those keys for me, I can be more thorough, we won’t have to travel as far, I could create safe rooms on multiple floors... There’s a lot of advantages to bringing the whole building under our control.”

He tilts his head. “You were planning to do this all along?”

“No. Maybe. There was an even spread before. A zombie or two on each floor. It seemed more doable.”

“Before you went and caused a horde.”

You scowl. “I did no such thing. Somebody else entered the stairwell that day. Started screaming their head off.”

He stares. It makes you a little uncomfortable the way he examines you, seemingly mulling over your request. Before finally, he shrugs.

“I’ll help. But I won’t be of any use if I’m weak. We should discuss payment.”

You can appreciate his bluntness. Even if the topic makes you uncomfortable.

“I assume you mean sex.”

“Or sexual acts, yes.”

It’s hard to meet his gaze. You stare at his coat instead. “How often do you need to..?”

His hesitation is slight, but you do notice it.

“Once every day.”

You try not to frown. Glance at his face. “I don’t know much about this sort of thing, but is that safe?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll be taking my energy, right? I’m already malnourished. Is it medically safe for you to feed on me that often?”

His hesitation is more prominent this time. He lets out a sigh. “You’re right, it’s not ideal.”

You don’t know how to reply to that. Just wait for him to continue.

“I’ll be careful not to take much. We can play it by ear. Skip a day every now and then, if you need one.”

You nod. Things are making sense, but you still have questions.

“What do you need me to do?”

“What would you like to do,” his reply is almost instantaneous, a hint of suggestiveness slipping into his tone.

You try not to wince, but he spots your reaction.

“What?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to discuss your sexual preferences with a stranger right now. “Can we get into that later? I just want to know what’s expected. Or needed. I don’t mean to... insult you, I guess, but what is the minimum?”

He stares for another moment. An indecipherable expression on his face while he, you assume, tries to read you.

He tilts his head and shrugs, that suggestiveness gone. “I feed on your pleasure. If I were healthy and well fed, the absolute minimum would be sitting in the room next to you while you wank. But to start with, I’m going to need a lot more than that. You’re not the only one who’s malnourished.”

“Do I need to get off?”

Another long stare. It’s an effort to not feel judged, but he’s entirely professional when he replies.

“Is that something you struggle with?”

You really don’t want to have this conversation with a stranger. But if you’re going to be living with him, relying on him... you should probably be honest. Secrets and dishonesty don’t make for a firm foundation in a relationship.

Not to mention, he’ll probably notice when you struggle. There’s no point in hiding it.

But you can’t meet his eyes when you nod.

He sighs.

At the noise you can’t help but stiffen. Your jaw locks and you stare intently at a spot on the ground.

This is usually a point of contention in any sexual relationship you have. That and your inconsistent sex drive. You wouldn’t be surprised if the demon were exasperated. Angry. If his next words invalidate you, or if he’s going to act like being an incubus will magically fix your sexual woes.

“What’s your name, pet?”

You’re taken aback at the gentleness to his tone. It takes a moment before you can find your voice and tell him.

“Charmed. You can call me Veron.” He offers his hand to shake, brevity lifting the tension for a moment when you take it.

But his smile soon disappears as he sits back and looks serious. Addresses you by your name, before, “I’ll take what you can give me. An orgasm is like a solid meal, but as you know, it’s possible to survive on scraps. It will just take longer to get me up to full strength.”

You swallow. Nod again.

“There anything else you think I should know?”

You shrug. You’re feeling pretty done with this conversation. Eye contact is getting harder. Conjuring up full sentences feels monumental. “Maybe. Probably. Nothing that’s a deal breaker, I don’t think.”

He offers another smile, uses a casual tone. “You don’t prefer women?”

“Uh-”

“No particular revulsion towards demons or monsters?”

You shake your head. “No strong preference. To either point.”

He smiles a little more cheerfully. “Great! We can go over limits and boundaries and wants later if you like. But for now, would you say we have a deal?”

You take a breath. “Yeah.”

His smile stretches wider, and he places his hand over his chest. “I’ll keep you safe, scavenge with you, and help you clear this building. In return, you’ll feed me once each day, unless it becomes medically unsafe for you to do so. Yes?”

You shake his outstretched hand once more. “Yes."

“Then it’s a deal.”

You give Veron a brief tour of the apartment. The bathroom. The open plan living area/kitchen/lounge. You show him the reservoir in the bathtub and teach him your water usage rules. The water stopped running when the power was cut. Since then, you've had to dole out your reservoir using a measuring cup whenever you need to do hand washing, or your occasional sponge bath.

You don’t know how the zombie virus is transmitted, so you’ve been hesitant to drink any of the tap water. Instead, you rely on your store-bought reserves. You’d been down to a single bottle when you’d set up catchment on the roof.

Veron surprises and absolutely thrills you with his display of prestidigitation. A snap of his fingers and the blood and viscera coating him disappears. Another snap and your layers of sweat and dust and grime vanish into the ether.

Knowing that he’s capable of basic magic and needs only energy to fuel it is a weight off your mind. If anything, it’s more motivation to keep the demon fed.

You offer him the couch as a bed. You don’t actually know if demons need to sleep. Some do – dreamers for instance. But aside from the sex stuff, you’ve no clue about the physiology of concubi.

Lastly you take down the evacuation poster. Show him the map of the building. There are some amenities on the first floor, along with a maintenance room. The remaining six are dedicated to housing. One stairwell snakes up the side of the building, an elevator shaft sits at the other end, and hanging down the outside is a rickety and broken fire escape.

You don’t know if the spare keys are kept on site, but if you’re lucky there might be copies somewhere. Checking the pockets of the local dead might be another option to find some.

Veron process this information, and with a glance towards the window stands.

“Okay. Today I’ll search the first floor. And make sure none of the husks in the stairwell will get back up.”

You don’t want to dwell on what he means by that. You hadn’t realised that there were surviving zombies on the stairs. But you walk him to the door and wish him luck regardless. And then you’re left alone.

The sun has dipped well beyond the horizon when Veron returns. It’s dark and you have to light a candle before you open the door. He’s covered in sweat and blood, looking quite disgruntled; face set in a scowl.

“You alright?”

“Fine,” he grumbles, snapping away any blood splatter before stepping into your apartment.

His posture is tense, and his jaw is set. It's obvious he’s in a bad mood.

“Did something happen?”

He reaches into his coat and pulls out a handful of keys, dropping them onto the counter with a sneered irreverence. “These were a pain to collect.”

“Oh?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t ask. I’ll just get mad.”

You’re not one hundred percent, but you’re pretty sure he’s not directly mad at you. It’s a relief, and you’re able to crack a smile. “Got it. Thanks for this.”

He waves the comment off, before rolling his shoulders. Gradually losing some of his stiffness. “What now?”

You hold up your candle. “I’d like to save these for emergencies. And it’s too dark for me to see. So, I’m going to turn in for the night. I’ve made the couch up for you. I don’t know if you sleep or whatever but...” you trail off.

He glances at the couch, at the blanket and cushions you’ve set out, and nods. “Sure. I’ll just... be here then. Until tomorrow.”

You conjure up a polite smile. “Until tomorrow.”

You put the candle out before heading to your room. Briefly wonder if you should lock your door before doing so. Sure, he could probably break it down if really wanted. But it puts your mind at ease.

You let out a groan as you sink into your bed. Your back fucking hurts. It’s so good to be on a mattress, using a pillow. Enough so that even with all the trepidation, all the anxiety circling your thoughts, you’re soon out like a light.

Next (to come)

#vaya writes #Infernal Assistance (Option Four)#monster romance #demon romance #monster x reader #demon x reader #incubus #filler chapter? yeah #just establishing what happens next and all that #send requests for fun smut you want these two to get into #absolutely having veron say don't ask #because i don't know where spare keys are kept when it comes to apartment buildings and stuff #and im using him having to jump through multiple hoops and get tools or whatever to find them #to mask that fact

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