#wind chill safety

[pluckedanarchist]

Ahead of winter storm Elliott, here's how to spot hypothermia and frostbite:

Source: CDC

If you see your skin changing color, becoming firm and numb, do NOT rub it. When frostbite happens, ice crystals form in the skin and rubbing can cause tissue damage and tears.

As someone who lived without heat in Washington for 5 years, some tips:

Let your faucets drip, and turn off outer water faucets if you can.

Open your cupboards and wrap the pipes with towels.

A heated blanket is a fairly cheap investment and definitely worth it.

LAYER. Wear leggings under your pants. Thin socks under fuzzy socks. Whatever it takes to be comfortable.

Hang blankets over the windows to keep heat in.

If you don't have a hot water bottle or what have you, but you do happen to have an empty two liter soda bottle lying around, fill it with hot tap water, seal it up real good and take it to bed with you. You'd be amazed how warm it is.

Speaking of bed, blankets. I have almost 20 blankets. Even cheap ones will do wonders layered up.

Space heaters are effective but expensive and can be dangerous. If you get one, get a forced air one and make sure it has tip over protection. That way it'll turn off if it falls over.

If you live with others, try to hang out in the same room. Just having multiple people in one room can make it a lot warmer. Don't be afraid to cover doorways with blankets too.

That's all I can think of atm. Stay safe and warm!

[hghrules]

warning for people with dogs in the us right now: this cold strike is dangerous not only to you, but to them. i let my bichon out to pee and she wasnt even able to finish before she started crying out in pain and limping back to the door; i think the snow was making her paws so cold they instantly started hurting. i ran out and picked her up and wrapped her in a towel to dry them and then several blankets to warm her up, but god, i've never heard her make that noise before. my mom even heard it from upstairs. keep an eye on your pets this winter!!

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[bunicate]

mimi i wud die for sum wrio incest ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ i need nii-nii to punish his lil sis when she starts actin up and disobeying ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ pairing ꒱ྀི wriothesley x fem reader — warnings ꒱ incest. fucking in leggings. calling your big brother daddy ? creampie. reader is described as small / 18+

i kept u waiting long enough and Im not sure but I may have strayed a witl bit from whut u said but still ! ! wrio-nii <3 muhehe . some icky thoughts and babbling below nonnie.

believe it or not wriothesley doesn’t necessarily enjoy punishing his little sister, but that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to it, especially if you’ve been seeking a less-than-innocent reaction out of him. 

it crushes him to say it, but wriothesley knows that his chilling title as duke at the fortress of meropide doesn’t grant him the same freedoms as others. he’s an overseer, a self-appointed role that he carved himself. part of it is to maintain order; the other half is maybe to fulfill his own sentence and snuff out any remnants of the guilt he couldn’t shake off.

naturally, he’s a protector whose hands happen to be bloodied. if it meant guaranteeing the safety of his little sister, he’d fight his way through anything, even if it meant bruised skin and broken bones. to be at the fortress while you remained in the world above was, to say the least, hard, but he’s working around that obstacle.

its some days, like today ( though rare on occasion ) he takes a well-deserved break.

a long shower, a couple of hours in the at home gym to stay dedicated, and then he promises afterwards that he’s all yours. maybe a picnic, a stroll through the town, a shopping trip—whatever you set your sights on, he’d do it; he’d get it because he has the patience of a saint, but that just happened to be the one thing you lacked.

your attempts at seducing him were messily orchestrated. adorable, and innocent, and his cock strained against his sweatpants nonetheless.

wriothesley’s bare chest expands with each deep breath he takes, greedily sucking up the air to calm his lungs and beating heart after he drops his weight.

though away from the world below, he doesn’t stray from his regimen. even when darling little girls strut in loungewear not even appropriate enough to wear in their own homes, offer him water.

he downs it—gulps it incredibly fast and wipes the remnants of water that escape on the back of his hand. he sets the glass down, and he knows that water isn’t the only thing his body is aching for.

the clothes are practically second skin, your nipples are puffy and alert under your shirt from the air conditioning, and the leggings are tight enough to emphasize the chub of your lower lips.

“why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

it’s a silly question he doesn’t bother to answer.one foot behind the other, hands intertwined, you give him that a stare that reveals more than you let on. your tongue delicately swipes your bottom lip, and his eyes follow. he watches closely when your lips do that small bounce from the release of your teeth.

he wants to wipe that doe-eyed look off your face and rip the flimsy pants off. maybe even ruffle up your pretty pigtails, but you’d hate him if he did. yet, it’s only fair for him to tease in return, and wriothesley isn’t too keen on enforcing discipline. but if you want it so bad, he can’t see why he can’t be voracious just this once.

it takes him only a split second to wrangle your body to the floor and push your cheek into the plush mat. he’s pumped with adrenaline; his brute strength nearly knocks the wind out of you.

those fingers that you love so dearly trail down your hips and backside to finally press down on the seat of your leggings—right where your cunt sucked in the fabric. just two of his digits encompass the size of your heat, and they trace the sticky folds through the cloth. your grip on the mat tightens, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

he roughly rips open your leggings, the sudden exposure to air making you gasp. it’s a wide enough hole to display your plump ass and fat little pussy to his icy blues. such thick, succulent lips dressed in a thin layer of your slick that he wanted to lap up selfishly.

his large hand reels back and collides with the flesh of your butt watching it jiggle.

“hnn— !”

your body lurches forward on impact, and wriothesley flexes his thick arms to keep you still.

“shh, shh. s’okay.”

he rubs the fat of your butt briefly before landing another swift strike.

you squeal, “nii-nii! p-pleaseee !”

the arch in your back deepens, and wriothesley licks his lips in anticipation at your show of embarrassment.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

he’s dizzy from the sight of your gaping cunt, and he can’t tell whether to spank it, fuck it, or kiss it first.

ultimately, he decides on spitting.

he puckers his lips, and a tiny glob lands right in the center of your pussy, and he eagerly stares as it disappears between your plump folds.

you flinch away reactively from the moist invasion, scrambling on the floor, but your brother overpowers you.

“come on, don’t run from me now, you little brat.” his hold on you tightens, forcing your ass higher up.

wriothesley begins to tug his pants down and pull out his heavy cock. it’s thick and drooling pre-cum from his wide tip, eager to empty his load inside your tiny hole. he gives it a few strokes and watches you wiggle your butt in excitement.

“put it in nii-nii. i'm so messy down there, so you don’t need’ta prep me. . .”

a manicured nail runs down your slit and separates your fold, and nothing but arousal webs across your twitchy cunt.

“fuck .” 

you are messy.

you’re dripping and creaming, and he’s barely started. he takes his own thumbs to spread your lips apart further, like he couldn’t believe it himself. your vagina thumps erratically, pumping out a bubbly, clear fluid. the squelch is disgustingly loud, and he has to fight himself from collecting the salty drops with his tongue.

he whistles in agreement.

“would you look at that? i guess you’re right. this needy cunt can take my fat cock. ”

he's holding his breath when he presses it against your quivering center.

“i always thought you were too little to take it, but your pretty pussy is more than ready for me.”

he rubs the softness of your skin in awe.

you turn your neck slightly to give him a shy smile. “mhm, s’ only for you. . but,” you shake your hips again. “could you put it in, please?”

slick was now stuck between your thighs, staining your already ruined leggings, and you felt dirty, but not enough to overpower the desire to be fucked by your older brother. you were practically humping the air in utter want, but wriothesley doesn’t match your urgency.

“i’m trying, sweetie, but—” the duke makes no effort—he wipes his sloppy mushroom head on your clit, dragging it in messy circles.

“nii-nii is having trouble.”

his pre-cum frothed into a cloud coating your already wet lips, and he hisses when your pussy briefly twitches around his glans. he nudges your opening teasingly but doesn’t bother to push his way through the tight seam.

he shakes his head in faux remorse.

“see, i guess you’re still too little after all."

you throw a small fit, “that’s not true! i can take it!”

he chuckles at your pouting. the hold on your ass digs into your skin as a warning to not get so worked up.

"then what do you suppose we do?”

he spits again, but this time on his shaft, and he drags his hand up just enough for his foreskin to cup the crown of the flushed tip.

"jus’ ruin it—force your cock in. .”

and he didn’t need to be told again.

two beautiful holes, a tight little knot that he can’t wait to split apart one day, and a wet and fat pussy. was he even strong enough to tough it out a little longer?

he looks up towards the ceiling, muttering a brief prayer. you just might kill him, but he's more than ready.

the tight fist around his member squeezes until a thick drop of white plops against the floor. his balls firm and round flutter with every gasp of air you take. his body is in sync with yours, and as soon as his tip pushes against your opening, it stretches—coaxing in his meaty girth. he pushes all the way in until he's sure he can’t go any deeper, and then pulls back out. his cock shines with your wetness, and he takes a few seconds to marvel at where your groins meet.

without warning his hips to mount forward, and he fucks you with purpose—to teach a lesson.

his pace is far from what you predicted; it's much faster and filled with a vigor you weren’t used to. your big brother prefers to handle you with much more care, knowing that you're just a delicate little thing, but he trusts you’ll get used to it.

you proved time and time again to be adaptable, so you keep your ankles crossed and your face down, smushed into the floor, while he uses your body for his own end. his balls, warm and taut, spank your clit unabashedly, turning the screw inside of you. a ring of milk forms at the base of his cock, and the friction pulls noises out of you you didn’t think you were capable of making.

you move to crawl away and put some distance, but wriothesley doesn't let you.

“nah, be still; let nii-nii use you. that’s what little girls are supposed to do, right?”

he laughs, maybe even out of disbelief. each time he tries to convince himself that it will be the last, he still finds himself forcing his cock inside his cock-hungry little sister. and your moans only elevate in pitch as you get closer to that edge.

“yesssss. ah !—hn—you can use me as many times as you want. m'your little stress toy!”

wriothesley grunts loudly. the sound of your lustful proclamations rattling his very being.

“I'm your little girl. keep fuckin’ me, please, nii-nii.”

he doesn’t want to stop.

the recoil of your round ass from the impact of his thrust is a view too otherworldly for him to separate his eyes from. his body accumulates more sweat, and he continues to deliver those fucks that pushes you harder into the floor. your leggings, other than the gaping rip, were thoroughly obliterated, and the mixture of fluids made the fabric darker and stickier.

“! m’almost there, keep going nii-nii. . . s-so close !”

a foggy cloud slows the whirrs in his brain; all of his thinking ceases, and the only thing he can focus on is finishing inside you. to empty his large balls of his salty seed and pull out more of those choked sobs out.

“s’okay baby. relax . i got you.”

“hnn-! hiccup . mmkay ! i love you s’much."

“yeah, nii-nii loves you too, baby. don’t fucking forget it.”

"i won't, d-daddy.”

he stills only for a moment before continuing.

“daddy ? what are you talking about, silly girl?”

he snickers in between moans and claps of skin. did he fuck you that dumb already?

“I’m your brother princess, don’t tell me you forgot.”

you pulse around his cock.

“mhm, but you’re my daddy too.”

he rolls his eyes and smiles.

“i guess i have a pretty daughter to take care of now,” he says and he’s rewarded with your cute mewls and noises of happiness.

he’d kill for you.

again.

he’s a man free of guilt when he’s the closest to you, and it’s why he feels no shame when he delivers one last thrust and pumps your pussy full of his hot semen.

you welcome it, feeling it fill your belly and it takes few minutes for wriothesley to separate himself from you. the minute he pulls out is when he feels robbed of your warmth, he feels naked but satisfied. his cock layered with thick cum fell limp between his legs and he feels relief that his balls were no longer aching with cum ; it was instead leaking from your puffed cunny.

his hands reached out to touch your sensitive pussy, squeezing it to watch the dollops of his seed drip on the gym mat. your legs shake in desire and it’s when reality sinks in.

you didn’t finish and wriothesley makes no move to get you off. he smirks, he’s sure that this time his punishment will keep you in line.

although, only for a bit .

[blughxreader]

I've been watching natural disaster documentaries and I'm so down bad for the idea of Platonic Yandere! Batfam during a blizzard.

They obviously have enough supplies to maintain a small village, so no one is pressed when sudden snow picks up. Batman has special cold-resistant suits for all of them but when the windchill drops to the negatives, their patrols are an hour at a time.

When the blizzard finally hits, they escort stranded cars to safety for as long as possible before the white-out makes it impossible to work.

That first night, they're all huddled in the the smallest lounge, fireplace roaring and hot chocolate in hand. You're pulled to the very front of the pile, bundled in blankets and Tim's various school hoodies and up against the rolling heat of the flames.

Despite the temperature breaking record lows, you've never been more toasty. Chocolate on your tongue and cheeks hot from the fire, they only let you unbundle yourself when you complain about sweating.

However much the others bitch and moan, Jason and Bruce are the ones at your side. They're packed full of muscle and do a great job of trapping in heat, so the skinnier Bats have to settle for watching you. Jason and Bruce take great pleasure in draping a big arm around you, pinning you so close to their sides that you have to fold your arms to keep them from getting squeezed.

Bruce insists you sleep in his bed, since this is one of the few times he gets to fall asleep at the same time as you. Damian insists, on account of being the least efficient at maintaining heat (i.e. the smallest), he should join you two. Bruce relents with an amused smile. You fall asleep pulled almost fully across Bruce's chest with Damian wound tightly around you.

The whole situation would almost be reminiscent of a family enjoying the winter holidays, had it not been for the Bat’s palpable longing.

Normally, they're desperate to touch you, to hold onto some part of your person and bask in the closeness. But with their fingertips cold and a slight shake to their limbs—they're ravenous.

Their yearning mixes with the cold and spurs on their dark thoughts more than the heat ever has. They have to hold you or they'll die. They have to feel your warm breath fan their faces. They have to take your body heat and to give you theirs.

Physical intimacy seems so much more personal when they could die from the cold (never mind the fact that they're at a healthy temperature).

Fights break out faster as they get more clingy, and Bruce creates a rigid schedule. The Bats must follow the rotation by the second, no bartering time for favors, and no incapacitating others to extend your time.

The weak sun travels the sky and snow swallows houses whole. Almost two days in, the power cut and everyone was forced to move into the small living room. Using the back-up generators, they powered only a few important rooms in the house and set up space heaters in every corner. Blankets were nailed over windows and Damian and Tim had a mini bitch-session over the unusable internet connection.

Dick and Jason carried down mattresses, while Tim, Cass, and Steph found every blanket and pillow in the house. Damian and Bruce brought up laptops, monitors, and a radio for work. Alfred is forced into the recliner with an instant water heater and a teapot by his side. He hasn't complained once, but everyone knows the cold isn't kind to his joints.

Then there's you, sitting on a pile of blankets and pillows and wrapped in sweaters, throws, hats, and gloves. You almost threw a fit because you were warm enough, but Cass's darkened face silenced you immediately. She backed off when you settled into Steph's side, gloves and all.

The time passes slowly. On the third and worst day, the wind chill reached negative 50. The house rattled and creaked against the cold, and the Bats took turns nestled against you.

Dick flipped through his old high school year book and told you stories about the students, while Steph chimed in with made up-ones to add drama.

You and Damian played a game that involved finishing each other's drawings.

Tim pretended to be stuck on a video game level and let you help. Cass somehow procured a party horn that she honked to celebrate each victory.

Despite how hard Jason tried to avoid Bruce, they always finished their books at the same time and left to get more. They returned with arm-fulls of books and a frozen snack that they shared with you.

At the end of the week, when the sun finally began melting the snow and the were having an increasingly difficult time keeping Bruce from the cowl, they were all sick of each other.

It was slightly satisfying, considering you never caught a break from any of them and this was a taste of their own medicine. The Bats finally returned to duty after a spectacular meltdown from Dick after Bruce asserted his opinion one too many times.

You, however, remained locked in the living room nest for several more days because "it's still too cold for you to sleep alone" and "patrols will be very short until crime picks back up."

It was already safe to return to your room, but there was something so comforting about knowing precisely where you'd be at any given moment. And Bruce, settling into the couch after patrol to thaw his frozen limbs, melted at the sight of his kids all piled up together.

for more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

V ║Raw Edge

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part IV: Notch | Behind the Seams: Part V | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E, a proper E!

Summary: One lazy afternoon, Joel tests your patience.

Warnings: Sexual tension, some language, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, flirting, fingering, explicit grinding, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!domestic!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 2k

Notes: It's been a long and winding road y'all, but I'm finally back with an update on the main series. It is a short one, more of an interlude, but it will get us where we need to go for the next chapter. Thank you for your patience, I don't take you guys' understanding and love for granted for even a second. Releasing this during the Seams sleepover, more drabbles coming your way for the remaining month of March!

Raw edge - the raw, raveling, and unfinished, cut edge of the fabric.

It’s fitting that Joel is a patient man. He’s built for it, after all.

Those broad shoulders, the sturdy thighs, his sure hands - he’s steadfast as the mountains that loom over Jackson.

As the sun shifts over the ridges and valleys of the sierra through the seasons, bringing shadows into light, so does Jackson on Joel, and you learn that he’s many kinds of patient.

On lookout duty, even in the depths of winter, he becomes one with the stillness of the night, patiently watching over the safety of the town in the loneliest hours.

When townsfolk stop him on the high street for neighbourly chit chat, he obliges with polite patience, never rushing, but careful not to encourage conversation that is longer than necessary.

With Ellie, when she prattles on with a long-winded story from school, he listens with amused patience, letting her run her half-full mouth over dinner with half-hearted admonishment.

And with you - he is agonisingly patient with you, and yet, never in a way that leaves any doubt of his want for you.

You cannot be more grateful.

And in turn, you’re patient with him. As the green of summer softens with the tail end of the season, you pick up bits and pieces. You hear whispers of names. Tess. Bill. You glimpse ghosts of his past. Sarah. Frank.

You don’t expect him to, but you have the audacity to hope, that one day, if he finds it in him to let you in, you have shoulders to spare.

When the heat fades and the brisk autumnal chill starts to linger in the morning mist, you start to find that you like it when he’s not patient.

Not necessarily for the lack of patience thereof, but the fact that it’s worn thin by something else.

The way heat bleeds into his eyes when Lucy holds you up after your shift ends, fingers twitching, as if the caveman in him wants to grab you and drag you home, where you have planned on dinner - and more.

When you’re two bodies tangled in your sheets, breath short as he kisses his way down your neck and nips the underside of your breasts, bra cups pushed up only halfway because you’re still too shy to take it off completely. You feel him shudder, nails digging into your skin, nostrils flaring like he’s holding back from ripping the scant fabric off of you.

And late one evening, when you ask him for it, in heated whispers and your lower lip caught in your teeth, he oh so patiently works his fingers inside your wet heat - 

One, then two; 

Slow, then fast; 

Tender, then frantic - 

Until he feels you clench tight around the crook of his fingers for the first time, watch you arch clean off the bed, he bares his teeth and lets out a primal growl at the cry of his name on your swollen lips.

You find the thrill in getting under Joel Miller’s skin.

As the fall deepens, and trees start to shed in golden surrender, you’re caught off guard when he turns the table on you.

You don’t see it coming, your desperation, that lazy afternoon. It’s just another Saturday when Ellie is on her shift at the Outfitter with Lucy, and Joel is spending those free hours with you.

You’re not sure what got him into the mood, but the man is relentlessly teasing that afternoon, almost bratty in the way he toys with you. His hands go everywhere while you’re cooking, squeezing the swell of your ass then going north to cup your breasts, and stopping off everywhere in between.

Tips of your ears burning, you smack the back of his hands - so big and mapped with veins - just so you can get drain the pasta. Joel chuckles and kisses the corner of your mouth. ‘I like it when you’re bossy, sweetheart.’

He insists on eating on the sofa, with you between his legs, and you can feel him already hard and straining through his jeans. Neither of you really make a real go at the rapidly cooling marinara, and the plates are quickly pushed to the side as them meal degenerates into a full-blown make out session.

Not yet ready to let him strip you bare or for him to disrobe him completely, clothes hang half unbuttoned and unzipped on you both. The part of your brain that still has enough blood to reason likes it though - the demure flashes of skin under creased fabric, blindly touching and feeling where you can’t see.

Your jeans are pushed halfway down your thighs, bra pushed down under your breasts, the elastic straps digging into your shoulders. His shirt is open down to the second last button, bare chest rubbing against your nipples, the contact making you whine. His belt hangs open and his jeans are unzipped, but before you can reach down, his fingers slide inside your panties, twisted and sticky, teasing your wet folds. 

‘Joel,’ you whimper as he pushes two thick fingers inside you to the knuckle, your pussy slickly opening around him. 

‘Does that feel good, sweetheart?’ he asks, mouthing at your collarbone.

‘More,’ you gasp.

‘I got two in you already -’

Your voice cracks in a sob, your nails digging into his back. ‘Joel, I want more. Please.’

He glances at the clock ticking away on the wall and hesitates. The rational part of him knows that he has to leave in less than twenty minutes to pick up Ellie. But feeling you leak onto his fingers, pushing your hips against him to get his fingers even deeper, his cock twitches painfully hard in his pants.

He breathes through his nose to steady himself. ‘Sweetheart, we don’t have time -‘

‘Joel!’ you whine, almost petulantly.

He stares down at you, eyes wide at your desperation. He’s never seen you like this before, and fuck, he wants to give it to you. Wants to give you what you want, what he wants. What he’s wanted for long fucking months, woken up hard and throbbing dreaming about. But he steels himself - no, not when he’s on the clock, he won’t rush it. He will give you what you deserve, and not an ounce less. 

So he kisses you, long and deep, and bargains with you. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we can’t right now - but if you want to, we can try something new.’

‘Ok,’ you reply without hesitation.

A sharp breath catches in your throat when he eases his fingers out of you, and he brings them up to his mouth to lick them clean, his brow furrowing at your taste, thick on his tongue. Then you watch, transfixed, as he pushes his unzipped jeans down with his boxers, kicking them off his ankles - and his hard cock springs free of its confines. 

It’s taken you many months to drum up the bravery to map his body with your touch, and you’ve mostly done so in the safety of darkness, your shyness holding you back. To see all of him, jutting hard and thick in the stark afternoon light, you don’t even hear yourself whimper at the sight.

Joel holds your gaze as he slowly wraps his fingers around the swollen length and strokes himself, lips parted, watching you watch him. ‘You trust me, sweetheart?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gonna make you feel good, ok?’

His words make you squirm beneath him. ‘Ok.’

Grabbing the base of his cock, Joel shifts, looming over you and pushing your thighs apart so they’re bent at the knees to accommodate him. Then with a delicate finger, he traces under the seat of your panties and pulls them to one side, baring your spread pussy to his eyes. 

Your jaw goes slack the same time Joel bites out a filthy fuck. You know this is the first time he’s laying eyes on you there - you’ve been demure about that, preferring to be nose-to-nose with him while he buries his fingers inside you. But now, watching his eyes go black, nostrils flaring, an inexplicable high goes to your head, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

His eyes fly to yours, and your lips part. Did he see that?

Before you can find out, Joel moves, and you hold your breath when he bows his head right where your legs are splayed open. Distracted by the beautiful chisel of his nose from this angle, you would’ve jumped right off the couch if not for his hands holding you in place when he dribbles spit onto your clit.

You cry out wordlessly, not understanding the visceral reaction of your body to the unexpectedly lewd act.

‘You’re plenty wet for me sweetheart, but this will feel even better,’ he says, spitting again, lower this time, and you tremble at the unfamiliar sensation of the wetness trailing down your folds. 

Tracing a thumb over you, Joel makes a low noise of satisfaction in his chest when it glides over your lips, frictionless. Taking a hold of the base of his cock, he positions the underside of his length in the seam of your folds - and thrusts. 

‘Joel!’ you whimper as the full length of him glides over the lips of your spit-wet pussy, from entrance to clit. He braces himself over you, and you hang onto his impossibly broad shoulders as he carefully rolls his hips, again and again. Rubbing along you just so, making sure you feel all of him despite not being inside you - that will have to wait.

You can feel your panties getting wetter, sticking to your skin, and Joel jolts a gasp from you when he roughly tugs the fabric hard to the side, baring more of you to his drunken gaze, witnessing the mess he’s making of you.

‘Listen t’ you,’ he slurs through gritted teeth, the lewd, wet slide of skin filling his ears. ‘Gonna sound even sweeter when I make you mine, sweetheart.’

With a whine, you arch off the couch, as if chasing the possessiveness in his words. Joel finds a rhythm that has the swollen head of his cock grinding against your clit with every thrust, and above you, he smears open-mouthed kisses over the secret spots he’s patiently unearthed by trial and error, until you’re shaking all over. It’s just what you needed, what you wanted - the elusive more that you didn’t know how to articulate. More than his fingers, but not yet ready to take everything that he can give you.

‘You’re close,’ Joel says, a quiet confidence to his verdict that coaxes a whine out of you. Holding a thumb over his cock, it presses even harder against your clit. His hips quicken in pace, and you know he’s chasing his own release as much as yours. 

‘It’s ok sweetheart, you can let go, let me feel you cum for me, let me feel that pretty pussy -’

And then you’re gone. Any illusion of control over your body is just that, an illusion, when the bubble bursts. White hot pleasure burns through your bloodstream, tendrils of heat blooming and swelling from deep inside you, spilling out your fingertips twisted tightly into his graying curls. 

Over the rush of blood in your ears, you hear Joel stutter fuck, fuck, fuck! before warm cum gushes over you, pooling in your belly button, spilling down your pussy and streaking your thighs. 

Limbs heavy and eyelids drooping, it’s hard to care when the cum stains your panties or the couch below. Not when Joel wraps his arms around you, lips brushing the nape of your neck softly as he brackets you from behind. 

Clinging onto the last vestiges of consciousness, you murmur, ‘You have to pick up Ellie soon.’

He grunts. ‘The little punk can wait.’

You smile, struggling to feel apologetic that the teenager might be waiting a while as Joel’s breathing slows, whistling softly by your ear. 

In the quiet aftermath, his words echo in your head. 

When I make you mine. 

Little does he know, he doesn’t have to - you’re already his.

Notes: Time has really flown by since the last main series update. I've gone through so many ups and downs since, and I really need to thank you guys for giving me the time to figure things out in terms of my writing and how this story will go!

As I mentioned in Behind the Seams: Part V, I have 2 more full length chapters planned for the main series. I don't know if there will be any more after that, but at the very least, I hope that I will be adding to the Seams universe through drabbles and oneshots. I wouldn't write off the possibility of more chapters to add to the main series if I find the inspiration.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter ❤️

[comatosebunny09]

warm-bodied | leon k.

genre(s): erotica, romance warning(s): female reader, soft dom leon, choking, clothed petting, mentions of bodily fluids, language, light dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, size kink, brief somnophilia, dry humping, stream of consciousness, lowercase, not proofread, written while under the influence now playing: some days - stella jang

he prefers you like this.

without the knit of your brows or the upturn of your lips. defenses buried beneath the gravel, your voice soft with sleep. no sharp quips, no biting comebacks. just your lids dancing and your mouth parting slightly with each exhale.

he likes it best when he can get away with stroking your cheek with the flat of his nails as you dream of pretty things. when he can root his nose into the curve of your shoulder and inhale.

you smell like earth and heady things, and you shift the slightest bit in his arms, nuzzling further into the safety of his body. cling to the fabric of his shirt like a grabby child, and the notion makes his lips—and dick—twitch.

the rain taps a steady rhythm on your makeshift shelter—a tarp he fashioned between two trees to shield you from the elements. 

you needed the rest, your bones shaky with fatigue. leon insisted after you reconvened following a split-up to gather intel. after you stumbled into his back when he took the lead to resume your search for the president’s daughter. wasn’t like you to be so out of sorts. so naturally, being the good partner leon was, he herded you to safety—or some semblance of it.

you allowed him to hold you beneath the veil of night. to ward off the insistent chill because you were soaked to the bone, your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. and he was warm and so very big, and…

well, he was just helping out his partner, right? definitely not swelling with something feral at the sight of your body wrapped snug in his coat and you burrowing into his armpit like a scared little bunny.

besides, it isn’t often he has you like this. in the clench of his arms, his fingers meandering along the skin of your neck. dragging further downward towards the divot between your collarbones, grazing over your breasts. further still, on an unhurried excursion to your nipples pebbling beneath your shirt. from the cold or his touch, he isn’t sure. but the sight of them makes him bite his lip as he chokes on a groan.

you stir when you feel him. clear the phlegm from your throat, your lids still heavy with sleep.

“leon,” you warn, voice rivaled by the patter of the rain overhead.

“i know.” humor hangs in the depths of his voice, interweaved with something sensual. something disarming. “just tryna help keep you warm, is all.”

snort. “we don’t have time for the nonsense.” 

leon scoffs. feigns hurt, his ministrations never faltering. sure, danger looms between each crackle of a tree branch. between every hoot of an owl in the distance, every whisper of wind, but—

a well-placed nipple pinch invokes a bitten-off growl from your throat. and he smiles at that, sighing hot and open-mouthed against the space behind your ear.

“we’ll make time, sweetheart.”

a promise clings to the air like the oaky aroma of petrichor, and he doesn’t miss how your thighs clench at the rumble of his voice. how you arch the slightest bit, pushing your breasts into the calluses of his hands, still feigning sleepiness. give him the go-ahead to touch you more, and he’s every bit of smug now as he kneads, plucks, and flicks his fingernails over your pretty, pretty nipples.

and, oh, how he wants to taste them; roll them over the bumps and grooves of his tongue, between his teeth. but given the angle and the timing, he’ll have to settle for this.

“gonna take care of you,” he huffs into the delicate hairs at the nape of your neck. hands dip a little further down, coasting over the ripples of your rib cage, massaging the meat of your belly, melding to your hipbones. “promise.”

you shudder, growing a little boneless, legs instinctively parting. and leon heeds the invitation, his nails raking up and down the inner sanctum of your thighs, all honey slow and teasing. and he intentionally nudges your meaty outer labia with the knuckles of his thumbs, and they’re swelling and fat in your pants, pulsating with each touch. he coos alongside you, infatuated by the beautiful noises he invokes upon touching you there.

you shiver again, a cute whimper easing past your lips. the sound shoots straight to his cock, painfully hard.

“want me here?” he croons. you nod all too quickly, earning a chuckle from him.

leon needs no further goading, taking to massaging your pussy through your pants with a cupped palm and artful fingers. revels in those breathy little sounds leaving your mouth and how your head falls back against his shoulder. and he’s there, mouthing over your carotid, sinking his teeth into whatever flesh he can reach.

his name drifts from your lips in a gentle cadence—in a dulcet supplication that makes his head spin, and he unconsciously grinds in tandem with the steady undulation of your hips. mind filled only with you you you. with getting you off. with tasting the briny tang of your cum. with being buried deep in the searing clench of your pussy, and the notion makes him nip at your shoulder to mask the pathetic little whimper burbling in his throat.

“right there?” he dotes at a particular buck of your hips, and your thigh craters beneath his fingers as he squeezes to anchor you down, keeping your legs spread so he can play at the seam of your pussy. “keep ‘em open for me, baby. yeah, just like that. gooood girl.”

he’s breathless now, sweat beading on his temple, because watching your resolve wither away has him leaking pre-spend and rutting into the cleft of your ass like a beast in heat. you burn hot as he shackles your neck with his hand, unraveling you little by little, your cunt so very wet and warm and weeping into his palm. and his hold on your throat tightens until he feels your pulse beat violently against the lines of his palm and your breath hitches.

“oh fuck, leon! so—so close! i’m gonna…i’m gonna—”

“yeah? gonna cum, baby? want you to. so bad. fuck. please.”

like a frayed bowstring stretched taut beyond its limits, you snap. topple as quickly as leon built you up, your slick saturating his fingers through the thickness of your cargo pants. and fuck fuck fuck, it’s embarrassing how quickly he cums after, drawn to his peak by the erratic stutter of your hips and that sinful tongue of yours curling around his name. he soaks his pants like an overzealous teen, fighting against his labored breaths and the urge to push you onto your back to fuck his cum into you.

but as the dust settles and the rainfall filters back in through the static of his mind, you look at him with a lazy smile. with a quirk to your brow, your gaze all-knowing and swimming with exhaustion.

“well, that’s one way to keep a girl warm.”

to which leon snorts, tugging you back into his arms, lips pursed and tender on the crown of your head.

masterlist

[bits-and-babs]

Your fics are amazing! Would you ever write about König?

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 — 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : rumours of an elite soldier have the base reeling. murmurings of 'monster' and 'freak'. what happens when you come face to face with the beast, only to find he's nothing like the whispers cautioned?

pairing : könig x f!reader

warnings : 18+ mdni. war, violence, graphic gory imagery, self-conscious könig baby, little bit of hand kink, basic bitch smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, size kink, tight fit, sugar-sweet teeth rotting smut. this feels so basic… but I was struggling. please note, kilgore is a name previously linked to könig. I have used it as a codename 🙂

könig masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Warfare training preps for the inevitable—those moments you need to fire a weapon and how to camouflage and navigate enemy territory without detection. These inescapable horrors are 'another day in the office' by the time you enter the field, the prickling chill of fear driven out of your system. Whistling RPGs are not dissimilar to the scream of your Drill Sergeant's commands, the cold, hard ground of a dilapidated building no more uncomfortable than the standard-issue barracks mattress you would ease your wearing bones into after training. 

Fear, beaten out of each man and woman that slipped on the uniform, held no commonplace in the military. Weapons, the call to war, brutality and sirens did little to raise the blood pressure. 

Whispers held far more weight and struck unease into the hearts of even the most desensitised of fighters. 

It was inarguable that each military in every country, at any time, had its own 'boogeyman'. Notorious fighters with absurdly large kill counts consisting of three digits that inevitably earned a bounty for their head, funded by the enemy—elite warriors who acquired a legendary reputation that ultimately became horror stories. The Ghost of Kyiv, The American Sniper Chris Kyle. These military cryptids kept their enemies awake at night, baying for blood and begging for the piles of bodies they left behind to stop growing. 

After years in the SAS, you were beginning to think that there was no such thing. Each soldier was prolific, brutally efficient and inarguably the best of the elite forces. It was only upon entering Task Force 141, a genuinely mean feat, that you began to hear the unshunnable, hushed whispers of Kilgore. 

“Did you hear about Berlin?” 

“Kilgore? Yeah, heard he blew away a whole Al-Qatala cell.”

“Twelve of ‘em. The hostages were traumatised.”

These mumblings had persisted for months, consistently updated with crazy tales of whole garrisons blown to smitheries by this massacre-happy hulking mass of pure military precision. You, like the rest of 141, elected to ignore the gossip. This was a battlefield, filled with elite soldiers, not a school playground. 

                            ✰

Austrian mud splatters your camo-clad shins as you sprint through the forest terrain, your heart lurching in your chest as your rain-soaked fingers almost fumble your gun to the sodden ground. It’s freezing cold, the gush of rain edging on a flurry of sleet as lightning cracks above your head. Clothes soaked through, the moisture and icy wind form something of a ‘Pact of Steel’, working together to deep freeze the marrow of your bones. 

As you slip in the mud again, heel skidding across the slick soil, you realise how dire the situation truly is. Separated from 141 during the firefight, you’d navigated north. You continued running for the safe house once discovering your coms had been dispatched by a stray bullet— that certainly would have ripped through your heart and dispatched you instantly if not for the layers of plastic settled over it. 

Thunder rumbles in the clouds above, the boom reminiscent of a distant air strike. Slurried earth gives way beneath your feet as you push on. Exhaustion gnaws at your joints as you scramble for safety, bested only by the adrenaline that buzzed in your ear like a vicious drill sergeant. “Move it! Do you wanna die?! Well fucking move!” 

You can hear their boots in the mud, the advancing Al-Qatala mercenaries chasing after you and shooting blindly at your heels, competing with the distance and dense foliage. You’re like an injured fox, feverish bloodhounds nipping at the end of your tail— what could they do with an SAS hostage? How much leverage would it buy? 

Bullets whistle by your feet, the proximity of some enough to set your hair on end. They’re closing in, jowls dripping with slobber as they attempt to close their teeth around you. Just a little mor—

Crack. 

Chaos erupts behind you, the thump of a body and a flurry of shouts. Panicked voices overlay each other in different languages, Urzik and Persian. You scramble for cover behind a treetrunk, the bark cutting at your palms as you brace for incoming fire. 

"Kilgore!" Someone shouts, and your blood runs cold, eyes wide as they dart around the foliage for the legendary soldier. The whizzing of high-powered bullets persists, dropping Al-Qatala mercenaries into the mud beneath them. You hear the yelled orders, Urzik fighters urged to retreat.

You're unsure if one fails to hear the directive over the din of warfare, but you hear the advancing feet of the mercenary advancing on your position—the squelch of the mud beneath the rubber sole of his combat boots. You scramble with your weapon, checking the gun's safety and readying for a one-shot shoot-out. 

When a bullet shreds through a victim's head, the sound is reminiscent of a watermelon being cracked open. It's a sickening crunch. A wet spray of warm blood cuts through the downpour of rain, splattering across your face. Some of it is solid, brain matter and shards of cranium. 

It's not silent by any means. The rain continues to beat against the floor, pattering in the puddles that had formed in sole-shaped prints in the soaked earth. Cracks of thunder sound in the distance, and the droplets drum against the leaves in the forest's canopy. However, the sounds of the firefight cease. 

"You can come out," a voice calls to you. Accented; Germanic. You hesitate for a moment, once again strengthening your grip on the gun you'd clung to. Your lungs strain with the sudden intake of breath, ribs crushed beneath your tac-vest. "Ghost sent me." 

Easing your head out from behind the tree trunk, you marvel, somewhat horrified, at the gigantic, hulking build of the man who stood in the clearing. Fallen enemy combatants surround him, a blanket of corpses draped across the turbid forest floor. A black veil covers his face, and his equipment litters his tac-vest. 

You'd be lying if you said you were unperturbed by the sight. Instead, fear lurches in the pit of your stomach, and you freeze in place. It's only when your eyes catch the crystal white slicing through crimson on the patch sewn into his shoulder that the airy voice, which certainly doesn't match his enormous frame, brings you a sense of safety. 

"The safe house is ahead. We could get you warm–– clean you up?"

                            ✰

Staring into the bubbling pan of water settled over the small fire, you relish in the warmth that creeps across your chilled body. Still, you're soaked, the damp clinging to the threads of your clothes. The scent of iron still assaults your nose, the water that you pick off the fire cautiously heated enough to scrub the blood from your face. 

Kilgore, who informed you upon entering the safehouse preferred to be called by his name König, had seated himself in the corner of the large, relatively empty room. He looked ridiculous like this, attempting to compact his body into the crevice. You don't doubt it's an attempt to ease the nervous energy bleeding through your pores, your hands trembling as you attempt to dip the rag he had gifted you into the hot water. 

"Did..." You swallow thickly, glancing up at the Austrian, "Did you tell the Lieutenant where we are?" 

"Mhm-hm," he nods slowly, his jade eyes watching you from beneath the face veil. They're sharp and bright, contrasting so strongly against his uniform's muted and inky shades. "He's planning evac." 

You scrub the gore from your face, wincing as you feel the shards of bone scrape across your face. König's eyes bore into you from the other side of the room, watching you struggle to remove what was left of the grime the rain had failed to wash away. 

"I've-... Heard a lot about you," you speak to him, attempting to cross the vast space he had consciously put between you. His green eyes gaze at you, unblinking as he watches your expression. König is trying to read you, trying to comprehend how you feel. He's cautious, trying not to push you outside of your comfort zone. 

"About Berlin?" He asks, and his voice is so soft that it reminds you of a child attempting to speak after being reprimanded by their parents–– wary of a second bout of raised voices. 

"Yes," you mumble, dipping the crimson rag into the water before laying it across your skin again, "About Berlin." 

König hums softly, casting his eyes to the aged, wooden floorboards. The woodlice have chewed through them, moss growing in some parts. You can see he appears uncomfortable, his knuckles white from the fists that form in his lap. 

"I didn't mean to scare anyone," König admits in a whisper, catching you off guard. His shoulders sag slightly, and you see him pick at loose threads in the knees of his camo trousers. 

"N-No... I meant to say how courageous it was," you point out, watching his fidgeting hands still suddenly, "You risked your life for those hostages... saved them singlehandedly. No one else would have done that." 

Hesitant silence settles between you both, König considering your words carefully as he stares at his lap. You can't see his face, the veil concealing all but his eyes, though you're almost sure he's stunned by your comment. It takes him a moment to discern his next step, but he finally lifts his body from the wooden chair he'd pulled into the corner. It creaks with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space towards you. 

"You also saved me," you point out, watching him kneel before you, "Faced a whole cell..."

König steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn't speak at; first, silence hanging between you once again as he dips the cloth into the water. Then, he soaks it until it drips, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint colour and standing out against his pale skin. 

"Ghost asked me to," he mumbles, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. He gives you time to pull away–– you don't. 

"You could have ignored him," you whisper, suddenly breathless with this proximity. He still towers over you, even balanced on his knees, head and shoulders slumped over you. You can see the ocean green of his eyes clearly, the halo of brown flecks that cover the circumference of his pupil. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, so pretty and oddly feminine. 

The pressure of the cloth against your skull is so delicate. König appears to be afraid of hurting you, gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline. He shakes his head gently, considering your kind words. "What kind of man would I be, Leibchen?" his voice is airy, tone flimsy.

Those stunning eyes take a moment to gaze into yours, searching for your answer. Instead, all you manage is a weak shrug. 

"Were... Are they afraid of you?" You whisper to him, struggling to find the words to broach a topic that appears to affect König so profoundly. It's his turn to answer wordlessly, offering an equally frail nod. 

König takes your chin ever so gently in his hand, his palm almost eclipsing the lower half of your face, and turns your head in search of further blood-spatter. He sweeps the makeshift face-cloth over your skin, focusing on removing the grime altogether. 

You'd heard the cruel rumours, the whispers of 'monster' and 'freak'. This König you'd met couldn't possibly be the same they uttered about maliciously. He held a child-like kindness, the brutality of the job seemingly doing little to chip away at his humanity. The same couldn't be said about the others. 

"König," you whisper his name softly, watching as he continues to focus on clearing up your skin. His soothing touch smoothes across your temple now, removing some mud speckles. "Don't listen to them."

You can see his eyes soften, once again turning to yours as you reach to fiddle with the edge of his veil. Upon tracing the border between the pads of your thumb and forefinger, you find that it's t-shirt material, the zigzag seam stitching rough against your touch like barbed wire. "They haven't seen you like I have." 

Those eyes gleam with amusement, little crows-feet creases forming in the corners. He's smiling, and your heart stutters against your chest. 

"That right, Leibchen? I've had a mask on this whole time."

The gentle teasing lilt to his tone makes you lightheaded, urging you forward with your frankly ridiculous plan. You begin to lift the edge of his veil upwards. You take it slowly, his pupils dancing across the bare skin of your face as you reveal the point of his chin. His skin is equally as pale there, barely exposed to sunlight.

König doesn't stop you as you continue to lift the fabric from his face, exposing the curve of his lower lip. The skin there is soft and plush, little creases in the flesh making your heart thud awkwardly against your ribs. Finally, you stop at his cupid's bow, so soft and subtle it's barely there at all. 

You can feel his gaze warming your skin as you trace his lips with your eyes. Hesitation holds you still, uncertain about the final step of this stupid plan. König, as ever, doesn't push you. Doesn't even breathe. When you lean forward, the tip of your nose brushing his own that still lay beneath the cloth, you hear a sharp yet gentle inhalation. It triggers goosebumps across your forearms, butterflies battering the pit of your stomach. 

Soft. His lips are so soft when you mould your own to their shape. König's veil tickles the skin of your face when you kiss him, and you feel his gigantic hands settle on either side of your neck as he begins to return your affections. They swallow you, and your pulse leaps against his palm. 

König smiles, and the kiss turns toothy and a little lopsided. You can't help but giggle nervously, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he presses gentle pecks to the edge of your mouth. Despite his massive, intimidating frame, each action is deliberate and soft. 

"... Are your clothes still wet, Schatz?" He's breathless despite his seemingly put-together appearance, his nose bumping yours as he interrupts your answer for another fragile kiss. "We could get you out of them." 

                            ✰

Your standard-issue military t-shirt slips and falls from the cot's mattress as König gently pulls your hips towards the edge. His fingerprints have already bruised into your thighs despite his attempts to be gentle. When he'd begun to panic, you told him not to worry–– he'd already bruised up your neck with his teeth and lips; what was a couple more?

Butterflying your legs out for him, König groans softly as you expose your glistening cunt for him. You're shy, covering your face with your hands as his fingers massage the soft, malleable flesh of the inside of your thighs. 

"Schatz," he whispers, and you peer through the gaps of your fingers. König gazes down between your legs, green eyes gleaming as he positions his cock between your folds. "So beautiful." 

It's ridiculous, you think, staring down between your legs. König is huge in every sense, the shaft of his cock thick and veiny and drowning out the seam of your sex as König shifts his hips forward to swipe the length of him across your weeping cunt. You can't help your mind running away with itself–– surely he needed a weapons license to carry that thing-?

A weak chuckle sounds above you, and you crane your neck to catch his eye. "I will take it slow, Schatz, I promise you."

You believe him. He had been so delicate with you this whole time, laying you down gently on the bed, careful when removing your gear and your clothes not to let the material snag on your nose or chin. 

König's hand disappears beneath the face veil, spitting into his palm before he smoothes it over the head of his cock. He groans, eyelids fluttering beneath the mask as he drags his hand over the length. It's a pretty sight, you think, such a colossal man shuddering in bliss. When he sweeps his cock through your folds again, he carefully taps the tip of his dick against your clit to illicit a whimper. 

"Mhmm, gentle. I promise you," he repeats, inching the tip of his cock down until it settles at your entrance. The soles of your feet find purchase on König's hips, and he massages your calves gently as he begins to inch into you at your nod of approval. 

Oh, Christ. 

König stretches you the moment he sinks inside. There's a delicious burn, one that has you lifting your hips with a whimper as you equally try to escape and dive into it. He's wheezing, eyes glued to where your bodies meet as he watches you flutter around his size. 

"Ha-So tight, Schatz," he groans loudly, stopping when you firmly grip the bedsheets. He notes your expression of slight pain, the tears welling in your eyes as your body attempts to accommodate the intrusion. König seemingly can't help the flurry of apologies that fall from his mouth as he leans over you, settling his thumb against your clit in an attempt to ease you open. "Here. I want you to feel good, Engel." 

The tremors in your thighs rattle against his hips as he circles your clit slowly. It's blissful, the sticky, warm arousal that blooms through your abdomen as he teases at the sensitive nerves. You arch your back against the mattress, moaning out his name breathlessly as he continues to inch his cock further into you. You barely notice when he finally settles the rest of him inside, wailing softly when it twitches and knocks something earthshattering inside you. 

"O-Oh fuck––" you choke on your curse when König shifts his hips forward, jutting into your cervix and winding you suddenly. You probably look ridiculous, eyes rolling back into your skull as you claw at the vast expanse of his chest. You drag pink lines down the pale skin, drawing blood to the surface, but it does little to phase König this far along.  

"Good, Liebling?" He murmurs, continuing to assault your clit. You can barely form a coherent sentence in response, drooling around a string of 'yes, yes, yes'. It's all he needs to find comfort in advancing, easing the length of him out of your weeping cunt before driving it back in at an achingly slow pace. 

You want to slam your fist against his pectorals and insist he go faster, but you're not sure you're ready for it when he slides into you balls deep. It's as though he's settling among your lungs, filling you so good that you're seeing static in your line of vision. 

The sound of a desperate groan from above barely brings you back down to earth, noting how he's staring at your face. His pupils are blown wide, almost devouring the green of his irises. It takes you a moment to realise you're drooling, his slow and steady pace already pushing you to a mindless edge. 

"Oh-" you moan, digging your nails into his abs. They ripple beneath your touch with each deliberate thrust, and König hisses at the sharp sting and the crescent moon indents they leave behind. "F-Fuck, König- Too much-!"

"It's too much?" He wheezes, eyes searching your face. You desperately shake your head, terrified he'll pull away from you despite the inching arousal building at the base of your spine. Wrapping your legs around his hips, your heels press into the small of his back and hook him in place despite your protests. 

It sparks something feral in the hulking man, his hips surging forwards and jolting you up the mattress. Your breath escapes you in a squeak, arousal soaring and buzzing thickly in your abdomen as König mumbles in German, his soft voice coming out all gritty under the strain of his exertions and bliss. 

"Mhmmm- fuck-" you babble, eyes rolling again as you lift your hips to meet his. He sinks impossibly deeper, and your breath stutters as you feel the telltale tug of your orgasm. "Oh God- König, I'm-"

"Tell me," König whispers, rutting up inside you. He doesn't bother to inch out of you now, repeatedly battering so deep inside you that you struggle to inhale as your orgasm approaches fast. 

"Hngngg- hah-ah- I'mgonna- c-cum-" you choke with each sudden thrust, his thumb quickening its pace against your arcing clit. Perhaps he shifts his hips slightly or reaches even deeper than before, but he brushes against something utterly debilitating, and you cum with a loud shriek of his name. 

It bursts through you with blistering heat, your fingernails sinking deep into the curves of his bicep as you brace against the waves of bliss that crash over you. König keeps fucking into you, your walls squeezing tight around him as his thumb persists in its assault on your throbbing clit. Tears stream down your face, and König can't hold on much longer as you strangle his cock. 

"Hah-Shit-" he slurs, his voice barely reaching your ears as he buries himself as deep as you can take him. He cums with a haggard moan, body trembling as his cock spurts inside of you. There's so much of it, too, leaking out of you before he even manages to move. 

Both of you take a moment, both stunned by the overwhelming ecstasy. König doesn't bother withdrawing from your heat as he slumps beside you, turning you on your side to face him. He offers no words, burying his face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly. 

Your chest heaves as you suck in oxygen, skin prickling with heat as König encases you in his massive arms. You don't need the sheets, his body-heat burning hot beside you as you press your skin to his.

No words need to be said, you think. König had offered his feelings in the form of his reverent touches and delivered his thanks for your kindness in the delicate kisses he'd pressed to your lips as he carried you into the bedroom. 

As you lay in the dark, settled into König's side, you trace your fingers over the curved scars, the bulletholes that have healed over against his ribs. They rise and fall beneath your touch, lungs expanding and deflating with each breath. It's a sobering moment, the thrumming of his pulse against your palm reminding you of his humanity despite the whispers at the base that had insisted upon his bestiality. 

You realise those who speak cruelly of him and ruin his self-worth don't understand their impact. To them, he's a cryptid–– his very existence called into question. They hadn't seen him with their own eyes, only heard the mind-boggling tales of his startlingly impressive missions and monstrous size. 

They hadn't felt his heart, the way it fluttered against your touch when you'd offered compliments. Hadn't experienced the soft plush of his lips pressing into your own in heartbreakingly sweet kisses. He was no monster. 

And when Lieutenant Riley came for you the following day, choosing to ignore the marks left on your skin and the way you hesitated before climbing into the helicopter to offer the Austrian a gentle wave and a promise that you would return, you began the mission to rewrite his story. To change hearts and minds.  

It didn't take long at all.

"Did you hear about Kilgore?"

"I did! He saved a member of 141. Incredibly brave–– I heard the situation was dire."

"She spoke very highly of him. Said we could count on him."

"I certainly wouldn't mind fighting alongside someone so dependable and courageous." 

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[gtgbabie0]

-Finnick Odair x reader

{Quiet moments between you and Finnick when you can’t sleep}

I hope you enjoy my lovelies! 💕

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Winter was in full force, with harsh winds that nipped at your skin. Not even the fireplace could fend off, let alone the fluffy covers that you’ve layered upon your shared bed. Perhaps it was the cold chill in the air that prevented sleep from capturing you, or maybe it was something else entirely… you decide to not let your mind wander to what that could possibly be.

You sit up wrapping your cotton shawl around your shoulders tightly as your eyes scan across your room, dimly lit by the small sliver of moonlight that peaks behind the curtains and stretches across the floor trailing along the wall.

Finnick doesn’t stir with your movement which means he must be exhausted because he’s often a light sleeper, although you’re not surprised with the busy day he’s had. You smile softly down at him, the way his cheek is smushed against the soft pillow. You gently push his hair away from his closed eyes as you admire him, you’re glad he’s found comfort beside you.

The thought crosses your mind to wake him up, he’s always told you that if you can’t sleep to wake him up, he wouldn’t mind. But looking at him now, you just can’t bring yourself to do it, you’d feel far too guilty.

Instead, you decide to make your way to the kitchen, but not before putting on a pair of thick socks, after all, the tiled floor always felt much colder in the dead of night. Perhaps a warm drink would help lull you to sleep? You think to yourself as you fill the kettle.

You cringe slightly as the water begins to boil, squeezing your eyes shut at the sudden loud noise. Finnick had brought all types of different teas with the hope that one of them might help you get a good night's rest, he’d do anything if it meant you were happy.

You remember when he brought them home, two whole bags full of boxes with different kinds of ‘sleep treatments’ it brought tears to your eyes.

Finnick was always sweet to you, it shows in the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, and the sweet nothings he whispers to you whenever you feel down. You start to miss him, even though he’s only in your shared bedroom, the room next to the kitchen, fast asleep.

You pour the hot water into the small ceramic mug, the same one Peeta had gifted you as a congratulations for your engagement, he had hand painted them, beautiful flowers that swirl around the cup.

Soon enough the sweet smell of the tea reaches you, soothing the restless feeling that builds up within your chest. You take a small sip of the warm beverage as Finnick wanders through the kitchen, eyes heavy with sleep.

“It’s freezing out here honey” his voice is rough despite the softness of his tone, exhaustion hangs on his every word. he shuffles closer to you, bringing his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he’s trying to protect you from the chill that lingers within the air.

A sigh falls from your lips when he presses a kiss to your forehead, his hands soothing against your back as you rest against him. Even in the safety of his arms the guilt still bubbles up within you, “Did I wake you up?” You ask, pushing your face against his shoulder.

“No, was already awake” he’s lying but you decide not to fight him on it, far too distracted by the warmth of his hands as they slip underneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your lower back. “Can’t sleep without you anyway” he says, pulling back to get a better look at you, the truth of his words are shown through his eyes.

“M’sorry” you mumble into the soft fabric of his shirt, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me” The words come out much heavier than you’d like and it strikes a cord within Finnick, one that pinches his heart.

He tuts softly as he leans back slightly, holding your chin with his finger and thumb. “Hey,” he whispers, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes immediately soften as yours find his, “Don’t apologise, honey, it’s what I’m here for, yeah?” He smiles, seeming more awake than he was just mere minutes ago.

“I know, I just- I don’t want to be too much” The words feel silly as they escape your lips but your chest feels lighter for it. You know deep down you shouldn’t feel like this, Finnick has never made you feel anything but loved.

“Too much?” He repeats after you as if you had just said something that had completely baffled him, and it did. “There’s no such thing, sweetness,” he tells you, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I love you- so much” he whispers against your lips before kissing you, not letting your mind wander elsewhere for even a second.

“I love you too Finn” you exhale, eyes closing as he rests his forehead against your own, your noses bumping against each others slightly.

“Come on, it’s warmer in bed,” he says, unwrapping his arms from around you as he picks up the tea you had made, “I got this, you go get into bed honey” he smiles and you know better than to fight him on it, so you do as he says, climbing back into the cosy bed with Finnick following shortly behind you.

He hands you the warm beverage before joining you, his hand slipping into your own as you take small sips of your drink. He talks about the market, how they're starting to sell that one specific seasonal bread you like, and he even begins to make plans for the weekend with you. his voice clams your nerves, it brings peace.

"Thank you, Finnick" you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder as he pulls the blankets over your legs.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles, “Always for you” he says, voice heavy with sleep once again. You set your mug on the bedside table before turning back to him, and for the first time tonight, you start to feel yourself drift off as you lay in his arms.

Finnick could admire you forever without wanting anything, study every ‘imperfection’ and fall even more in love with you. He would pour his heart out to you right now if he wasn’t so tired so instead he settles for a simple, “G’night beautiful” with love dripping from his tone, and soon enough you both find sleep.

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[absurdthirst]

White Christmas {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.8k

Warnings: Post apocalypse setting, threats of violence, technically forced entry, survival, mentions of family death, virgin reader, Reader celebrates Christmas, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, loss of innocence, fingering, somnophilia, Joel's a little horny, cum play, pull out method of birth control, face sitting, 69, anal play, slight angst

Comments: Finding a cabin right before a winter storm blows in seems like a gift. Finding it occupied with you - a Christmas celebrating virginal survivor, is Joel's own Christmas gift. Providing safety and security in and out of your bed and giving Ellie the Christmas she had always dreamed of.

A/N: Merry Christmas belatedly!!! Charlie and I meant to have this finished by Christmas Day but life and family got in the way. But it's finally here! Cheers!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The temperature is dropping again, the chill making Ellie shiver as she pulls her jacket closer and follows behind Joel. There’s a heaviness to the air, it feels almost wet and Joel told her that meant it would snow today. They need to find a cave, a dilapidated building, something, and she wouldn’t complain about a fucking fire to thaw out her frozen fingers. “Joel-“

“I’m fucking working on it.” His tone is annoyed and she bites her lip. She hadn’t been about to complain, but he seems to think she is.”

“No, do you smell that?” She demands, sniffing the air loudly. There’s the scent of a fire in the air. Someone has to be nearby. 

Joel frowns, squinting as he tries to look into the distance. His eyes aren’t the same as they used to be. He fucking hates getting old. Sometimes, when his body aches and he misses Sarah too much, his mind goes back to that dark place that’s memorialized on his face. He grunts, “come on kid. Let’s see what it is. Probably assholes who want to kill us but let’s see.” He snorts and Ellie chuckles, knowing how hard life is in the wilderness. The only person she trusts is Joel. He leads the way through the snow until your cabin comes up in the distance.

Joel tightens his grip on the rifle and looks around carefully, aware that the area might be booby trapped or there might be some guards. The place looks too neat to be someone holed up for the coming weather. This is obviously someone’s home. “Fuck.” The first flurries start to fall as the wind picks up and there’s nowhere else to put Ellie. He’s just going to have to make sure that he gets the upper hand when surprising whoever is inside and hold them at gunpoint until the coming winter storm is over. “Stay close.”

Ellie nods, watching Joel as he walks towards the cabin, and she shivers when the snow hits her face. He’s exhausted, clearly needing to rest, and so does she. You don’t notice his approach, too busy humming a Christmas carol as you putter around the cabin that’s been in your family for a hundred years. You smile as the pine smell fills the air, the fire crackling. You don’t hear the slight jiggle of the locked door until it’s flinging open and a man holding a rifle strides in. “Get down!” He yells and you scream as you do as he says, laying down on the floor. Joel immediately comes over to pat you down, wanting to make sure you’re not armed. “Anyone else here?” He asks, standing up and swinging his body around to see if there’s another person in the cabin with you.

“Don’t- no! Please don’t- don’t hurt me!” You curse yourself for not putting the bar on the door but you had been expecting to bring in another few loads of firewood. “Please, I-“ you know that you are in very real danger, it’s not like you’ve been isolated from what the world has become, even if you’ve managed better than most. “Don’t- don’t hurt me.”

Joel growls as you don’t answer his question and he smacks his rifle down on the floor next to your face. “Are you alone?” He shouts out at you and you shake. “Are. You. Alone!” He yells. 

“Yes. Yes. I’m alone!” You cry and he stands straight, deciding to go through the house to make sure no one is hiding. “Ellie!” He shouts, calling the teenager in. “Aim your gun at her. She moves. You shoot.” He commands and goes around the cabin, opening every door and cupboard to make sure you’re alone once Ellie has her gun aimed at you.

You are shaking, only slightly relieved when the girl shows up. Somehow hoping that because there’s a younger girl, that some of the evils that could be visited on you, won’t be. “I - there’s no one else here.” You promise quietly. 

“He won’t hurt you.” The girl murmurs. “Not unless you try to hurt us.” Huffing quietly, you listen as this dangerous man shuffles through your cabin, your home. 

“You broke into my house, not the other way around.”

Joel comes back after realizing that you are indeed alone and he’s shocked. A woman in a cabin all alone. Something he hasn’t come across. “Stand up.” He orders, reaching down to grab your forearm and he practically drags you over to the chair at the dining table. “Ellie. Rope.” He demands, needing the rope from her backpack to tie you up. He doesn’t trust anyone. “No one coming back here?” He asks, wanting to know that there’s not an army of men coming back to this place.

“I- no, I’ve been alone for two years.” You admit, hating that fact. People don’t come here and you had burned and buried the last member of your family before the snow two winters ago. “Please, take what you want and - are you hungry? I have some stew, take it. Just- just don’t kill me….or worse.”

That makes Joel pause. You’re more scared of what he could do to you than being killed. That makes him feel sick. He never wants to be that kind of man in this horrifying new world. He swallows harshly and lowers his rifle from your face. “I ain’t gonna kill you.” He promises.

You bite your lip, trying not to show how scared you are. It’s not that you’re weak, you’ve survived the outbreak and the past twenty years since, but now you’re all alone. “Why are you- what do you want?” You manage. “Just take what you need.”

“We need a place to stay. Storm is coming. We can’t keep traveling in the wilderness without dying of frostbite. We need to stay here. You gonna let us?” It’s a rhetorical question but Joel is a gentleman enough to make it seem like you have a choice.

“You didn’t have to shove a gun in my face for a place to stay.” You frown. “All you had to do was ask. I’m not- you have a kid. What kind of monster would leave you two outside during a blizzard?”

Joel feels a little embarrassed now that he went so extreme but he is used to the dangers of this new world. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t take a chance. The kid- we have been used to some bad people.” He confesses, “I didn’t - I’m sorry.” He says, deciding to untie you just as Ellie says “you decorate for Christmas?” She asks, noticing the garlands and baubles placed around the cabin.

You’re confused by the turn of events but nod as the man starts to untie you. “I did.” You confess. “My Christmas tree is on the back porch. I was planning on decorating it after getting some more wood. Before the storm got too bad. It’s silly, but it makes me happy.” You shrug slightly, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“It’s Christmas.” Joel murmurs, remembering the holidays he spent with Sarah. He didn’t even know what month it was, let alone what day. 

“It’s so pretty.” Ellie coos, eyes wide at the bright colors and decorations you have clearly maintained since before the outbreak. 

“How do you know it’s December?” He asks out of curiosity. He only knows seasons.

“I’ve kept track.” You admit with a small shrug. “My dad had one of those organizers that had calendars for fifty years.” You snort, shaking your head. “We started making sure we kept track after the outbreak.”

Joel is equally impressed and peeved. Why would you keep track of the date when the fucking world ended? He doesn’t understand it. It’s all about survival. He glances around at the nostalgia. “I can’t - where’s the stew?” He asks, knowing that Ellie must be starving.

“It’s- the stove.” You nod towards the rustic kitchen. At the time, it had been considered quaint to have a wood burning stove and a water pump in the kitchen instead of the modern conveniences, but it had proven to be the best possible thing when the electricity went out. “It’s- I’ll fix you some bowls.” You promise, slowly standing up and watching him warily. “Warm yourselves. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you need to use it.”

Joel knows Ellie will want the bathroom. “You can go.” He tells her and she looks at him with gratitude before rushing down the hall. He watches you as you grab two bowls and pour the stew into it. He can’t believe you’re alone. Most women on their own…well, it’s a cruel world and all the women’s rights that were so hard fought went out the window when the pricks who were against them took over again with the new world. Joel is certain that you’re capable. You have to be if you’re still out here after so long in this small piece of paradise in the middle of nowhere. “So…you grew up here?” He asks, curious about you.

“I did.” You carefully ladle the hot stew and add a few of the coarse ground crispy corn bread rounds that you had fried up to go with it. Looking up at him to find him watching you closely. “I’m not going to poison you.” You promise. “You don’t hurt me and I’ll be happy to have guests for Christmas.”

Joel watches you for another second before he sits down, deciding to trust you but not enough to set his gun down away from him. When you set the stew down, he can’t help but groan softly. “Sorry. We, uh, we haven’t eaten for a few days.” He admits quietly, averting his eyes when you look at him in understanding.

“There’s plenty.” You murmur softly and move back over to the kitchen to get him and his daughter something to drink. “I’ve been lucky growing and canning vegetables. And I had just finished processing the deer I shot a couple of days ago.”

Joel is impressed but he doesn’t let that show as he watches you as you move around the kitchen. Ellie comes back a few moments later and her eyes widen at the hot food. “Holy shit this place is amazing.” She gasps before she sits down and starts to dig into the food. 

“Manners.” Joel reprimands her, shaking his head until he looks at you. “Sorry. She’s feral.”

You laugh and wave off his apology. “It’s good to know some things haven’t changed since the world went to shit.” You tell him, setting down glasses of water. “Later on, if you want, we can heat up some water for a hot bath. It’s probably been awhile?”

Ellie nods, opening her mouth with food in it. “Swallow first.” Joel reminds her and she dramatically swallows her food. 

“I would love a bath. Jesus, this place is incredible. How the hell haven’t you been killed?” She asks you, wondering if you’re some kind of super woman to have kept this place safe.

You snort and shrug. “It’s remote.” You remind her. “Not a lot of people come this way. Winter is too harsh. And when I’m not being surprised, I’m a damn good shot.” You glance towards Joel and then look back at his daughter. “I’m just living the way my ancestors did, I guess.”

Joel hums before he takes a bite of the stew, groaning at the taste after not eating for a few days. “Fuck this is good.” He says and Ellie nudges him, “manners, old man.” She says playfully and he rolls his eyes. 

“So where are you heading?” You ask and Joel swallows, reluctant to tell you his plans. 

“We are heading west. Trying to find my brother.” He says vaguely.

A gust of wind pushes against the cabin and you look outside. The sun is fading fast. “I understand.” You tell him, knowing that most are reluctant to reveal information. “But you will be stuck here for a few days at least. The storm is going to be bad.” Walking over to the coat rack, you pick up a heavy sheepskin coat. “I have to latch the shutters and bring in more wood.” You tell them. “Eat.”

Joel is cautious but doesn’t react as you head off to secure the cabin. “You can relax. She doesn’t seem like the type to stab you in your sleep.” Ellie says and Joel tuts, turning to face her. 

“You should never trust anyone. Especially someone you underestimate.” He tells her, knowing he learned his lesson about that.

Outside, you scold yourself. “Fucking idiot, they could lock you out.” You huff, realizing your mistake as soon as the door closed behind you. “Then you’ll freeze to death.” You can’t go back inside and demand they come with you, and the temperature is falling faster than the snow. Making you shiver as you hustle around the cabin, snapping the shutters closed and latching them together to protect the windows and insulate the cabin more.

Joel doesn’t say anything until the door opens and his hand grips his rifle, ready for anything to happen. When you enter alone, shivering, he relaxes and lets go of his weapon. You set the logs down and he releases the tension from his body. You notice and he sighs, “I’m not - it’s not you.” He says, wanting you to know it’s not that he thinks you’re bad, he’s just developed habits.

“I should probably get another few armfuls.” You tell him. “The wind is starting to pick up and I’d rather not have to use the guide rope.”

“I can help.” He offers, standing up from the table. You hesitate for a second before you nod and he follows you outside to where you store the logs. “You prepped all this by yourself?” He asks, impressed even if he doesn’t say it explicitly.

“It’s not easy.” You admit. “I try to chop wood all year. Every day to make sure that there is enough. And during the summer, I try not to burn much, just for cooking.” You start to stack wood up in your arms. “Worth it when I’m warm in my cabin.“

Joel reaches out to take the wood from you, knowing he’s vulnerable without his hands free but also wants to show you that he can help. “You are very capable.” He offers you an awkward compliment just before he clears his throat. 

“Thanks.” You murmur back, eying him warily until you’re back in the cabin. You lock the door but don’t bar it in case you need an escape. “So…bath time?” You ask Ellie who nods eagerly. 

“Have you had others come through here recently?” Joel asks once you’re heating up water.

“Not for a long time.” Your eyes slide away, looking towards the wall where you have pictures of your family hanging up to remember their faces. “Last time was about five years ago.”

“You’ve been on your own this entire time? How the fuck haven’t you gone crazy?” Ellie asks with wide eyes. “All alone? Jesus, I think I’d lose my mind.” She says and Joel doesn’t comment, knowing that he’d probably enjoy the solitude if he didn’t have Ellie.

“I had family up until two years ago.” You explain. “So I haven’t been alone that entire time; but work keeps me busy. And there’s always plenty of it.” You set a bucket into the sink and start to pump the water handle.

“Two years.” He murmurs, surprised that you’ve been able to be alone for so long but he knows Bill was alone for a long time until Frank came along. Survival is more important than company. He watches you pump the water and he works on building up the fire.

There’s something about having people around that makes you happy. Humming a Christmas carol to yourself as you move the bucket onto the stove and open the burner to let it boil. “I should make some hot chocolate on Christmas Eve.” You hum to yourself. There’s still some left that had been dry sealed and you only make a cup on special occasions. Perhaps it would be something that the girl has never had before.

“Fuck yes. I’ve never had hot chocolate.” Ellie confesses and Joel raises his eyebrows at her in warning. Ellie watches you with curiosity. You seem like a glimpse into what the world was like before the outbreak and she loves it as you hum something she’s never heard before. 

“I haven’t heard that song in…well, since before.” Joel confesses, amazed that you observe a holiday that is no longer relevant when it comes to this new world.

“Christmas was our favorite holiday as a family.” You admit. “I’ve got this crazy idea that if I continue to celebrate, then they aren’t really gone. You know?” You shrug, knowing how insane it sounds, but maybe you are a little crazy.

Joel doesn't understand that kind of mentality. For him, he tries to forget about those times. For a second, he glances at the tree you had brought in and remembers decorating one with Sarah year after year. How she'd tell him off for putting too many of the same baubles in the same area. Bossy like her mother. He shakes his head slightly to clear the memories and focuses back on you. "And you've never had anyone stay with you that wasn't family?" Joel asks, curious if you had someone at some point. You are beautiful, even he can see that, and he's certain that most men would've killed for a chance to stay here with you.

You smile wistfully and shake your head. “Never really had that opportunity.” You know what he’s really asking and you shrug before you get another pot of water to temper to boiling in the bath. “The few that have come have been groups. Passing through or seeking shelter for a time. No one stayed.”

Joel nods, surprised that no one has taken advantage of you. The world is harsh and you’re lucky to have gotten away with your life so far. “Do you have a razor? I need to shave.” Joel says, reaching up to scratch the heavy beard he’s grown during the travels in the wilderness.

“I’ve got a razor.” You motion for him to follow you to the bedroom that you had taken for yourself two years ago, because it has a fireplace. “My father was about your size.” You tell him. “The closet dresser still has his things, he’d want them to be out to good use.” You reach for the shaving cup and straight razor he had used your entire life, preferring it over the ones with cartridges.

Joel nods his appreciation, glad that you have some spare clothes. The ones he is wearing are practically threadbare now with holes in them. He walks back into the living room and looks over at Ellie, “go have your bath. I’m going to check the perimeter before it starts to storm.” Joel says, grabbing his gun and he trusts you with Ellie for some reason.

“Soooooo.” Ellie looks around and then back at you. “You don’t mind that we are here, right? Joel really needs to rest and maybe he can get some during the storm.” 

You tilt your head curiously. “Do you always call your dad by his name?” You ask, wondering if the outbreak had changed those customs.

Ellie shakes her head and laughs. “My dad? He’s not my dad.” She declares and your eyes widen, suddenly tense. “And it’s not like that either. He saved me and I- I guess you could say he unofficially adopted me and now he’s stuck with me.” She explains and giggles, “he’s a miserable bastard but he has a good heart. You can trust him. He won’t hurt you.” She promises, “unless you give him a reason to.”

You relax slightly and nod. “I think you two are more of a threat to me at this point.” You point out. “But why don’t we just enjoy the fact that we are cozy and warm.” You click your tongue. “I think I have some clothes that might fit you too. From when I was younger.”

Ellie nods, “gee. This is - you’re like the best place we could’ve found.” She says and stands up. “Thanks for all of this.” Ellie tells you and you smile, “it’s nice to have the company.” She disappears down the hall. Joel comes back an hour later, surveying the area and checking the cabin for any weak points in case the storm gets bad. He doesn’t want to get ambushed during the storm. Old habits die hard.

“You have to be cold.” You huff, closing the door behind him and locking a thick piece of wood into hooks sunk into the walls of the cabin. It keeps the door secure against bear and man, even the wind won’t rattle it. “Go stand by the fire, get warm.”

Joel shakes slightly as he shuffles over to the fire, rubbing his hands to warm them over the flames. "Where's Ellie?" He asks and you tell him she's having a bath. He envies her a little as he shivers but the kid will be happy to be clean. "The perimeter is clear. Checked to make sure we have enough clearance in case someone decides to sneak up." He tells you, having learned some things from Bill.

You decide to not mention they are the first in years to come here, instead you decide to pour Joel a cup of hot chamomile tea you had decided would be the perfect ending to an adventurous day. “I have a bit of whiskey or brandy left if you’d like it?” You offer, having pulled a few bottles up from your father’s collection in the cellar.

Joel nods, "that sounds good." He doesn't remember the last time he had whiskey...maybe the night before he left Boston with Tess and Ellie. Yes, that was the last time. When you set the bottle down on the table with a glass, he pours himself a small measure, not wanting to lose his senses when he's in a strange place. "You having one?" He asks, looking up at you.

You take that as suspicion on his part and shrug, reaching for the bottle. “Sure.” You pour a larger drink and then tip the bottle back to take a shot straight from the neck. “It’s not poisoned.”

Joel snorts softly, "I was askin' if you wanted one. Didn't think you'd poison me like a goddamn black widow." He smirks and shakes his head before he downs the shot of whiskey.

You chuckle dryly. “Hard to be a black widow when you’re me.” You tell him, sitting down and staring at your tea cup. “Sheltered. That would be the word, I guess.”

Joel can tell you've been sheltered, not as jaded by life like he has been. "So does that mean you've never...?" He trails off, not wanting to fully ask before he remembers himself. "Sorry. That was over the line."

“Honestly? It’s kind of nice to be asked questions.” You admit, not exactly being embarrassed by your life, or lack thereof. “Didn’t exactly attract a lot of boys when I was younger.” You tell him. “Guess I was kind of the Ugly Duckling. It’s sheer fucking luck I was home visiting for the weekend from college when the world turned to shit.” You shiver slightly, not even wanting to imagine how bad it would be if you had been in the city. “And I was surrounded by family. So….no, I’ve never had sex.”

Joel nods, surprised and not surprised at your answer. It’s obvious you’ve been alone but you’re a beautiful woman who should’ve been worshiped by now. “That’s a real shame. I bet you look gorgeous when you orgasm.” Joel says bluntly, not one for mincing his words.

Your eyes widen and you look towards the closed bathroom door where Ellie is still soaking in her hot bath. “I-“ the man in front of you is handsome, rough and rugged like the men you had grown up around. He’s obviously capable and he must have a tender side if he’s caring for a young girl who isn’t related to him. You’re literally a forty year old virgin, and who knows when you’d ever have another opportunity? “Do you want to sleep with me?” You ask just as bluntly.

Joel raises his eyebrows in surprise at your bluntness and he glances behind you to the door where Ellie is. “Tonight. After she’s asleep.” He says, cock twitching at the thought of touching you, of taking your innocence. He knows it’s wrong. You should have a dinner date with flowers and chocolates and all that shit but fuck, he wants to see you fall apart. It’s been so long since he lost himself like that, not since Tess, and he needs to let go for just one night.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “After she gets out, you can clean up too.” You would prefer to have your first time to be a good experience. “Then I’ll clean up as well.”

Joel nods, remaining silent as he thinks about touching you, making you moan. He doesn’t know you but he knows he wants to make you cry out in pleasure. He wants to lose himself in the act of sex. His mind has been so focused on survival, he wants to forget for a while.

Soon enough, your drinks are finished and you have cleaned up the kitchen from their meal. You had eaten while Joel was gone and you add some more wood to the fire. The light from the flames fills the space and the stove keeps the bedrooms warm on the other side of that wall. It might be a bit much to keep both going, but the temperature is falling fast and you want to keep the house warm since you have guests. “I should start warming more water.”

Joel can tell you are nervous and he works on getting cleaned up after Ellie is done and you heat up the water again. He groans as he sits in the bath, itching his beard and he sees the scissors and razor on the side. He looks down at his crotch and figures that could use a trim up too since this is your first time. He wants to make a good impression.

While Joel is in the bath, you settle Ellie down into the other bedroom. “Joel will want to sleep on the couch.” She tells you, flopping down on the bed with a sigh. “So I’ll just sleep here.” You chuckle quietly, knowing that he would probably be in your bed. “He’ll have plenty of choices on where to rest.” You promise and grin. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Since there’s snow, we’ll make some candy, how does that sound? To go with the hot chocolate?”

“Hell to the fuck yes.” Ellie nods rapidly, unable to believe she’s wearing pajamas for the first time in…well, ever. “This place is fucking awesome.” She grins before she yawns, “thanks for letting us stay.”

“Despite what others might do, I think it would have been inhuman to let you stay outside.” You shake your head. “Besides, it will be nice to have company for Christmas.”

Ellie smiles, appreciative and glad you’re so kind. A rare bird in this world she’s grown up in. “Thanks. Joel will be nice to you.” She promises, “and if he isn’t, I’ll make him be.” She smirks and settles into the bed.

You grin and shake your head. “The sheets are fresh and the room stays warm from the stove.” You promise. “Good night, Ellie” She had told you her name while Joel was gone and the girl bids you goodnight as you close her bedroom door.

Joel stands up and dries himself with the towel, deciding to not bother dressing as he keeps it wrapped around his waist while he trims his beard and shaves it back into the mustache of his younger years. When he's clean and ready, he exits the bathroom and enters what he assumes is your bedroom. He finds you standing there, adjusting the pillows, and he offers you a rare smile. "All clean." He says to announce his presence.

“Oh, uh, I better clean up too.” You bite your lip. “Do you- um, I don’t know, do you want me to shave? Bare? I mean I keep my-uh, hair tidy, but what’s the preference for cunt hair after the apocalypse?” You ramble nervously.

Joel snorts, "baby, it's your choice. I don't mind exploring a jungle or you can shave. I ain't fussy. It's the end of the world." He chuckles and shifts to sit down on the end of the bed.

You laugh quietly, shaking your head at your nerves. “Okay, I’ll- I’ll be quick,” you promise, rushing over to your underwear drawer and pulling out a lingerie set that never saw any use since you bought it the week before the world ended.

Joel finds your nerves endearing and he watches you rush around your room until you disappear down the hall to the bathroom. The fire is roaring and Joel takes a moment to imagine that the world didn’t end. That he met you in a bar and you decided to take him home.

In the bathroom, there’s still a bucket of warm water and you make sure you scrub every inch of your body, sure that he’s not fussed but you want to pretend like this happened organically. He’s attractive and someone you would have crushed on in college, even if he is a little older looking than you.

Joel licks his lips, his stomach twisting as he thinks about how strange life can be. One minute he’s out freezing in the wilderness and not sure if he’s gonna survive. The next, he’s preparing to take a woman’s innocence in her cabin that’s like a haven in the middle of nowhere. When the door opens again, he takes a second to inhale deeply before he looks at you. That breath is knocked from him when he sees you standing there dolled up in silk and lace. “I- wow. You look - wow.” He chokes pathetically, his cock twitching under the towel.

“I know it’s stupid.” You feel foolish for putting on the trappings of another time, another social expectation. “But I- I wanted to feel like this is normal. We are normal.” You step forward and devour the sight of him on your bed. “I’m not expecting words or emotions. I just wanted to pretend this was not desperation on both of our parts.”

Joel shakes his head, “it’s not desperation. It’s a connection. The need to feel something other than desire to survive. I want you. Thought you were gorgeous from the moment I saw you. Let me make you feel good. You’ve been alone for so long, you gotta be touch starved. Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” He says, standing up to walk towards you but stopping before he touches you.

You lick your lips, feeling wet because of his words. “Drop your towel.” You order softly. You’ve seen a naked man before, but you want to see this one, the one who will finally touch you like you’ve dreamed of. “I don’t know what I need, but I want you to touch me. Make me think of nothing but you.”

Joel doesn’t deny you. You deserve more than what he can give you but he can at least offer you his body. He drops the towel, his cock half hard as he stands before you and his dark eyes drop to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” He asks gently.

“Yes.” You whisper, eyes trailing up and down his body. He's not exactly hard, but he’s also not soft. Weathered, and experienced would be the words you would use to describe how he looks. Reaching out, you brush your fingers over his hot skin, resisting the urge to moan.

Joel closes his eyes briefly as you touch him with soft hands. He shuffles closer and reaches out to cup your cheek, leaning forward until he’s pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck.” He murmurs when you whimper into his mouth and he deepens the kiss, tilting your head so he can taste more of you.

This man, the same one who had threatened your life and tied you to a chair, completely consumes you. Taking control of the kiss and making you forget your hands are even on his chest as his tongue sweeps into your mouth and makes you moan.

He cups your other cheek, pressing close until his body is completely against yours. His tongue sliding against yours and you’re a little clumsy but so is he. It’s been a while since he kissed someone like this. His hands slide down from your cheeks until he is caressing your back and finally, his hands squeeze your ass.

Your eyes open and you hum into his mouth when his hands find your ass. Unable to believe that the simple squeeze feels so good. “Fuck.” You gasp when he pulls back to breathe.

You’re so reactionary already and that makes Joel harden, imagining the noises he can get out of you when he’s inside of you. He groans softly and kisses down your throat while you catch your breath, his hands kneading your flesh.

“Can I- can I touch you?” You ask, emboldened by his groan of permission. Your hands map hot skin, scars and you feel him shiver as they drift lower. Groaning yourself when your fingers wrap around his hard cock.

Joel’s breath hitches. It’s been so long since someone has touched him, since he allowed his mind to relax. “Baby.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up your back to the clasp of your bra. He undoes it and you let go of his cock so he can drag it off of your body. “Shit. Look at you.” He murmurs, tossing the bra down so he can cup your tits.

There’s something that is so raw about someone else’s hands on your body. The feeling is so different from your own. He throb when you squeeze him and it’s amazing how the book descriptions have it right. Velvet over steel. His cocks skin is so soft and warm, the hardness underneath such a contrast. “Can I-“ you pull away and start to sink down to your knees. “I want to-”

Joel swallows, his stomach twisting. “You don’t have to. This should be about you.” He says, “this is about making you feel good.” He shakes his head, “you don’t - this is - you don’t have to.” He repeats, not wanting to be selfish.

“I want to.” You confess, your cheeks hot with both desire and embarrassment. “If this is the only chance I have, I want to do it all.” You tell him, looking up and wrapping your fingers around his cock again.

Joel nods, unable to deny you when you ask him like that. He wants this to be all about you and even if what you want is to suck his cock. You kneel down before him and he swallows harshly as you look up at him with wide and innocent eyes.

He doesn’t rush you and you’re thankful for that. Obviously circumcised, the head of his cock is beautifully flushed and beading a clear liquid. “Tell me if I do it wrong.” You order before you lean forward and press the tip of your tongue to the slit.

Joel hisses, watching you as you close your eyes and take the head into your mouth. It’s more than he can take but he inhales deeply and calms down so he doesn’t ruin this for you. “Fuck baby.” He murmurs, opening his eyes to watch you.

You think that you’re doing it right from the way that Joel’s voice drops, hitting you in the pit of your stomach and you swear your cunt is dripping onto the floor. You hum, enjoying the clean taste and surprising saltiness of the pre-cum. Squeezing the base and keeping yourself from going too far and gagging.

Joel caresses your head, allowing you to take your time as you explore him. Your innocence is obvious but he likes it. You are doing this for yourself and he likes that you aren’t acting. Some girls used to make a show about sucking his cock and then complain they didn’t want to do it.

You appreciate that he will let you take your time. Slowly feeling what he likes, what makes him groan. You hollow your cheeks and push him a little deeper, until you feel your throat close and your eyes water as you look up at him.

“Jesus.” Joel hisses as you take him deeper. A tear slides down your cheek and he quickly wipes it away. “Baby. Don’t push yourself. Take your time. Feels so good.” He murmurs, wanting you to know that he’s enjoying this.

Your lips stretch around his cock in a smile and you swallow around him, enjoying the way he moans when you do. This is something that you had thought would just be for the experience, but you love it. Especially when his knees buckle slightly and his hand on your head flexes in pleasure.

“Baby. Let me - you need to- shit. I need - stop.” He chokes, not wanting to cum. It’s been way too long since he jerked off, unable to sneak off and leave Ellie alone even while she slept. He doesn’t want this to be over before he even gets to be inside of you.

“Are you sure?” You pout slightly, wiping your chin and looking up at him. You’re out of breath, your cunt aching and all you want is to see this man cum.

Joel nods, dragging you up and he surges down to meet you to press his lips to yours. Turning you, he walks you back towards the bed. He presses you down onto it, his lips trailing along your jaw as he straddles you.

You gasp and are taken by the dominance in the motion. This is a man who can be so damn sure of himself and capable. Your hands slide over his chest and around his sides to stroke his back as he nuzzles and kisses your pulse. “Joel.” You moan softly, as if he were an old lover.

He twitches at your moan, loving how his name sounds coming from your lips. He wants to hear more of it. He continues kissing down your body, his tongue sliding along your collarbone before he ducks down to take your nipple in his mouth after he cups your tit and tilts it up for him.

You had never imagined it would feel so good, your thighs pressing against his hips when he’s between them. Keeping you open as he circles your nipple with his tongue and scraps his teeth over it.

Joel takes his time, sucking and biting your nipple until it's puffy from his manipulations. He groans and switches to the other breast, his calloused hands squeezing both as he slowly grinds against you.

His cock is throbbing against your thigh, leaking and hot. Making. You whimper with pleasure as you imagine him inside you. There’s no fear, no hesitation. Not when he could be rough and quick and he’s taking the time to make you feel so good. “Joel.”

He groans as he releases your nipple, kissing down your sternum and he flicks his tongue into your belly button as he lays between your thighs. His dark eyes meet yours as he pushes them back to get a good look at your cunt. “Jesus. Such a pretty pussy.” He murmurs, his fingers sliding through your folds until he spreads them with his thumbs. Leaning in, his eyes focus on you as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

You gasp out a sound, half inhuman as you experience his tongue against your sex. Hot and wet, he’s not timid as he tastes you. This is a man who doesn’t mind getting dirty and diving into things, just like he’s proving with your cunt. Eyes wide, they are fixed on the man between your legs.

Joel groans as he laps at your cunt until he is pushing his tongue into you. Curling it and pushing your legs back so he can get deeper. Fuck, you taste amazing and he groans as you moan softly. He wants to make this good for you so he focuses on your clit, his hand sliding along your thigh until he's pushing a finger into you.

“Oh god.” You whine, your walls clenching down around his finger. “You- your fingers are thicker than mine.” Just one finger is stretching you out like you aren’t used to, or maybe it’s just because it’s not your finger but someone else’s. He presses deeper and you hiss in pleasure when he finds a spot deep inside you.

Joel loves the way you whine, glad he’s not hurting you, and he pumps his finger a few times before he adds another, wanting to stretch you out to take his cock. He’s girthy and he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way.

“Oh fuck.” You moan quietly. “Where have you been for the past twenty years?” You could have used him in your bed, to be your companion in this decidedly lonely life. “Fuck baby.”

“Survivin’” He answers honestly against your clit as he curls his fingers, scissoring them to stretch you out, and he loves the way you gush around his digits, getting closer to your orgasm. He wants you to cum like this for him.

“Yeah.” You nod and understand what he means. Closing your eyes and letting him push you towards an orgasm. The first one that you’ve ever experienced from someone else. “Joel.” You gasp, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders and your hips push down. “Gonna- fuck, gonna cum!”

Joel grunts, loving the way you squirm beneath him and rock onto his fingers. He keeps the same pace until you are squealing, soaking his fingers with your orgasm and he’s so proud. He is glad you came so hard and he can tell you enjoyed it.

Your thighs are trembling and you’re breathing as hard as you did the night you had chopped down one of the big trees to let it cure. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” You can’t help but giggle a little, looking down at the man who is staring up at you with his chin on your inner hip. “That was….i have no words.”

Joel is pleased that you enjoyed it. He leans in to press his lips to your skin, kissing along your hip. You deserve some tenderness and he is happy to give it to you. He shifts to kiss up your body until he’s hovering above you. “You still want me inside of you?” He asks, wanting to make sure you still want him.

“All I want for Christmas is you.” You manage to tease breathlessly, reaching up and caressing his cheek. “Just- be gentle?” You ask, suddenly nervous about the thick cock that is throbbing against your belly. He feels like he could just cum against your skin right now if he rocked his hips a few times.

He chuckles softly, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “You tell me if anything hurts and if you don’t like it.” He demands quietly, his dark eyes meeting yours and he caresses your thigh, lifting it up on his hip so he can reach down to grip his cock. “You ready?”

“Been waiting all my life, Joel.” You roll your hips down and moan when you feel his cock pressing against your cunt. “Better make it worth the wait.” It feels good to tease, to make it lighthearted. You know he won’t stay, so there’s no entanglements here.

He likes that you don’t want him to offer you sweet words and endearments when this isn’t that kind of experience. He wants it to be good for you. He positions himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, starts to push into you.

The feeling is so foreign, so overwhelming that your mouth drops open on a low moan. Fingers curling around his shoulders, nails biting into his skin lightly as your entire body quivers. “Fuuuuuuck.” You whine, hating that it’s taken so long to experience this.

Joel keeps his eyes focused on you, on your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you in any way. You shake beneath him and he slowly rocks into you, opening you up inch by inch on his cock. “You okay?” He rasps, trying to control himself. It’s been too long since he was inside of a woman and you’re unbelievably tight.

“Fucking amazing….” You moan, caressing his back and staring up at him in wonder. “It’s so, I’m so full.” You whimper, “move baby, I want to feel more.”

Joel isn’t even all the way in yet and you’re looking at him like he hung the moon. He pushes the final inch inside and your nails bite into his back. “Tell me if anything hurts.” He demands before he slowly starts to pull back, his eyes fixed on your face as he pulls out until only the tip remains before he’s pushing back into you.

“Jooooooelllllll.” You practically wail his name when his hips snap forward and he slides into you to the hilt with a delicious pressure that has your thighs tightening. “Oh god, it’s so- so good.”

Your reactions have him gritting his teeth to control himself. You’re so lost in the sensation and your cunt is gripping him, wet and hot. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Good girl.” He murmurs, caressing your side.

“Is it- does it feel good for you?” You want to know that he’s enjoying it too. This isn’t just about you. “Does it- oh god,” your eyes roll back when he thrusts into you again. “Fuck.”

“So good.” Joel promises gruffly, “you’re so - Jesus. I haven’t felt like this in so long.” He admits, knowing that while Tess was good, she didn’t make him want to blow his load within seconds of being inside of her. There was no emotional weight, just raw physical need. This is heavier and he feels it in the way he thrusts into you, wanting you to enjoy every second of this.

You moan softly, stroking his back and reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I would be addicted to you.” You confess, your walls clenching down around him tight.

Hearing you say what he was thinking has him thrusting a little harder. He leans down to kiss you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to swallow your moan, wanting to absorb everything you give him.

It helps, his kiss. Your moans are getting loud and you don’t want to wake Ellie, even if you’re sure she’s dead to the world. Wanting to keep this moment for just you and Joel as he rocks into you again and again.

He wants you to cum more than once on his cock tonight. He slides his hand between you to find your clit, rubbing it as he pushes into you.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, Joel.” Your eyes widen when he starts to rub your clit. Immediately clenching down around him again. He is amazing.

Joel needs you to cum for him. He wants to hear it, feel it, see it. He rubs your clit a little faster and adjusts his hips, wanting you to cum for him.

“Ohhhhh, oh god!” You cry out, throwing your head back and moaning when you start to cum. Body shaking under Joel’s in pleasure.

Joel groans as he feels you start to cum. Pressing his lips to yours to smother your cries in case you wake Ellie, he works you through it. Continuing to rub your clit and make you shake beneath him.

You pant against his lips, grabbing his hand when it becomes too much and drag it up to your breast. Wanting him to feel all of you, to leave not part of you untouched.

He squeezes your tit, his lips pressing against your jaw and he takes a moment to slow down, let you ride your orgasm. He wants another one from you before he pulls out to cum. He groans, “you’re so fucking beautiful. Beautiful and just - shit. So good.” He praises you, unused to being a man of many words but you deserve this considering how long you’ve waited for this moment.

Now that you have cum, you pull your legs back, wrapping them around his waist. “Let me- let me ride you.” You beg, wanting to feel what it’s like to sit on a cock and ride it. “Please, can I- I just want to feel it.”

Joel swallows, wanting to give you whatever you desire tonight. You deserve it. All of it. He nods and pulls out of you, shifting to lay down against your pillows. “Take what you want, baby.”

Biting your lip, you throw your leg over his hip and straddle him. “It looks bigger like this.” You admit, smirking slightly as you wrap your hand around him. “It’s supposed to feel bigger too, right? Feel deeper?

Joel nods, “yeah. Yeah it is. So I’ve heard.” He says, his hands sliding up to caress your waist until he’s cupping your tits. He squeezes them, pinching your nipples as you pump his cock.

“Oh fuck.” You moan, rolling your head back as he toys with your tits. “I want to feel you.” You murmur, lifting your hips and positioning him at your entrance before you slowly start lowering onto his cock.

Joel’s eyes flick down to where his cock is disappearing inside of you and he groans at the sight. “Baby, fuck.” He hisses and his eyes meet yours when your mouth falls open at the way he stretches you out.

There’s something intoxicating and empowering about being on top. About the man under you taking what you want and letting you have control. You have no doubt he could overpower you, force you to submit to him, but he squeezes your hip and your breast in encouragement.

He watches you as you take what you want, what you need. It's an honor to watch you discover what you like as you start to move on top of him. He swallows harshly, knowing that he will need to tell you he needs to pull out but right now, he's happy to watch you and be still beneath you while you use his body.

He does feel bigger from this position. Making your eyes roll back when you are settled on him fully. “Fuck, it’s like you’re in my stomach.” You whine, loving the sensation. “I love this. Fuck, does it feel good for you?” You ask as you roll your hips slowly.

Joel inhales deeply, trying to control himself as your walls flutter around his cock. You feel like a goddamn vice, squeezing him, and you haven’t even cum in this position. “It’s - Christ, it’s fucking incredible.” He promises, his hands squeezing your hips before they slide around to squeeze your ass.

You moan in pleasure and start to roll your hips faster. Feeling incredible every time you sit back down on his cock and moan out his name softly.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you need.” He murmurs, watching you take your pleasure and his cock twitches inside of you. “You feel so good. So fucking good.” He rasps, his brow furrowed as he concentrates on you.

You feel powerful, invincible as you ride him. Bracing your hands on his chest as you bounce on his cock, the bed creaking and swaying under you. “Fuck, baby.” You whimper, throwing your head back. “This is amazing, you’re amazing.”

Joel groans as you bounce a little faster. “You’re - shit - I need you to cum for me.” His hand slides down to rub your clit. “Cum for me baby.” He orders, surging up to wrap his lips around your nipple.

His arm is trapped between you, fingers furiously rubbing your clit while his mouth deliciously assaults your nipple. Making you cry out again when that knot of pressure explodes and the hot rush of your orgasm washes through you. “Joel!”

He works you through it, your hips stuttering from their previous rhythm and he loves the way you cry out into his ear, soaking his cock with your orgasm. “Baby. I need- I gotta pull out.” He chokes against your breast as he withdraws his fingers from your clit.

“Okay, fuck- let me-“ you don’t want to pull off his cock, but you have to. Obviously there’s no birth control and you’ve never been on it. Sliding your hips back, you watch as Joel quickly takes his cock in his hand and gives hard, quick tugs to the stiff length.

He grunts, eyes fixed on you as he works himself to his orgasm. It only takes a half dozen thrusts until he is pulsing in his grip and spurts of hot seed hit his skin, some hitting yours and a low groan escaping his lips as the pleasure overtakes his system.

Leaning forward, you press your lips to his after watching the first ropes of cum splatter over his stomach. Moaning into his mouth as he pants into yours while he works himself through it, finding it the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Fuck.” He pants into your mouth, squeezing his cock as he milks himself dry and he slides his tongue against yours, slowly pumping himself until he works himself until it becomes too much. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek.

Catching your breath with the kiss, you smile when you can finally giggle. Feeling like you are flying from the endorphins and the pleasurable ache between your thighs. “Merry fucking Christmas.” You whisper. “Holy shit, thank you for that.”

Joel chuckles softly, kissing your chin when you lean back. “My pleasure, sweetheart. Jesus, I don’t think - yeah, I haven’t had sex like that since I was in my early twenties.” He confesses, “did you enjoy it?” He asks, wanting to make sure it was everything you wanted and more.

You flip your leg over his and collapse against his side. “I fucking loved it.” His cock is softening and it’s strange to see it lying against his stomach, cum pooling under the flaccid flesh. “Can I taste it?” You ask softly, wondering if he will think you are strange.

He nods, a little speechless. Most women never want to go near cum, let alone taste it without it being direct from the source. Tess wasn’t one to swallow, she always spat it out. You look entranced and that makes his cock twitch in interest.

You were going to swipe your fingers through the sticky mess on his stomach, but you decide against it. Instead, you lower your head and take the cum covered head of his cock into your mouth to clean it off with your tongue.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel hisses, overstimulated but fuck, you are gorgeous. He thinks you’re incredible. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He pants when you give him mercy and release his cock from your mouth. “What do you think?” He asks you breathlessly.

“I think that I want this again.” You look up and shoot him again. “When you can, of course.”

Joel chuckles, caressing your back. “Might be a while. I ain’t young. I ain’t - it takes a while.” He says with a blush, “and I want this to be perfect for you.” He says softly.

“It already is.” You promise with a smirk and roll over to grab your panties off the floor to wipe the rest of the cum off his stomach. “Right now, I want to sleep, if you want to stay?” You ask, not sure where he would want to sleep beside you just because he fucked you.

“I want to.” He promises you. Joel should go sleep on the couch but he doesn’t want to. He wants to curl around you and fall asleep. He reaches for you, pulling you close as you grab the duvet to pull it over you both.

The room is warm from the fireplace and the sex, making you sigh softly as you settle into his embrace. “Goodnight Joel.” You murmur quietly. “I hope you sleep well.”

Joel knows he will. He feels safe and secure for the first time in God knows how long. He wants to curl around you, breathe you in, and go to sleep. He kisses your forehead, “goodnight.” He murmurs and closes his eyes, pleased to be safe and sound. 

**** 

The storm wakes him up, the wind blustering past the window and he blinks a few times to remember where he is. His cock is hard again, morning wood from you curled around his body, and he remembers every detail about last night. God, you gave him all of you. You didn’t hold back and he’s honored that you let him touch you. He wants to touch you again. His hand caresses your back, gently shifting you onto your back, and he snakes down between your thighs. Spreading them, he groans at the sight of your pussy under the sheets and he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds.

You don’t want to wake up, warm and comfortable with the weight of someone beside you, but the most pleasure feeling from between your legs rips you out of your dreams. Waking up and gasping out Joel’s name when you realize he’s got his tongue pressed against your clit under the sheets, feasting on you while you slept. “Oh god.”

He loves the way your voice is rough with sleep as he wakes you with his tongue. Sliding it into you and his nose presses against your clit while his fingers push your thighs back so he can get even deeper

“Oh my god.” You moan again, eyes rolling back and your fingers twisting into the sheets. “Merry Christmas Eve to me.” You pant out jokingly. “I’ve gotten my present.”

He chuckles against your flesh, pulling back to flick his tongue over your clit until he sucks it back into his mouth. “Merry Christmas Eve.” He murmurs softly, his hand trailing along your thigh until he can push two fingers into you.

The room is still fairly dark, from the shutters and the storm outside, the room is slightly chilly so you know the fire has burned low, but you are in a magical place. Reaching under and running your fingers through his hair. “Joel, you’re so good to me.”

He curls his fingers, sucking your clit into his mouth and he desperately needs you to cum for him again. To hear it, to feel it. He’s addicted to you and he wants to make you feel amazing while you give him and Ellie shelter during the storm.

Your breathing comes in waves, the pleasure sometimes making you forget how as he presses against a spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “Joel.” You gasp out. “I- oh shit!” You squeal when the pleasure rockets through you and catches you by surprise. Soaking his fingers with your release.

He’s surprised by the way you soak his fingers and chin. Loving it honestly. He groans and works you through it, cock hard as he grinds into the sheets and moans your name as he pulls back to gently kiss your clit.

“Oh my god.” You whine. “Please tell me you are hard?” You ask, panting as you catch your breath. “Please, please be hard. I want you inside me again.

He grunts, “I’m hard. Have been since I woke up. Feel like a damn teenager.” He says, kissing up your body until he is pressing his lips to yours. His hard cock pressed against your thigh. “How do you want me, baby?” He asks softly, wanting you to continue to be in control.

“Just like this?” You know that it’s not emotional, but you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist as your hands slide up his arms to curl around the back of his neck. “Slow? We have all day until Ellie wants food.” You joke. “It’s still early yet. She’s snoring.”

Joel nods, knowing the emotions between you are only because of your physical connection, of what you’ve given him. He swallows harshly and leans in to softly kiss you as he reaches between you to position his cock at your entrance, slowly pushing in.

You moan softly. Loving how gentle he is. You know that he’s tough, he could have hurt you, but he’s gone out of his way to make this amazing for you. “Joel.” You whimper into his mouth.

Your walls grip him and he hisses as your nails scratch down his back. “Sorry.” You mutter and he shakes his head, “no, I liked it.” He promises and pushes all the way in. He pulls back to look into your eyes as he starts to rock his hips, taking in every detail of your pleasured face.

Just like you asked him to, he takes his time. Staring down at you with a tenderness that almost makes you believe that this is real. This is your partner, maybe your husband, making love to you. “So good.” You whine softly. “I could spend the rest of my life right here.”

He knows you’re talking from a place of pleasure and not reality. He has to move on, to take Ellie west and find his brother. He rocks into you, caressing your side until he’s cupping your breast, squeezing it as he leans down to kiss along your neck.

It’s all you could want, this moment right here. You will be remembering it for a long time after this man is gone. You moan softly and tighten your thighs around him as he fucks you. Your walls clenching down around him.

Your walls grip him and he rocks slow and deep, wanting to hear and feel you fall apart beneath him again. “That’s it, baby. Christ, you feel good. So wet and tight around me.” He murmurs, loving the way you gasp when he lowers his pelvis so he can grind against your clit.

Biting your lip, you keep yourself from Asking him to stay. To settle here with you, him and his charge. You’re lonely, you can admit that. But you don’t say anything, just moaning when he works you back up to the edge.

He can tell you’re close. “Cum for me baby.” He demands, grinding lower and he pinches your nipple. “Cum for me. Cum.” He growls, needing you to fall apart for him again.

You shudder and can’t help but fall over the edge. Loving the roughness of the pitch and the desperation in his voice. Tilting your head back, you cry out softly as you shake under him in the most intense orgasm yet.

Joel pants as you cum around him, soaking him, and it’s an orgasm that seems to overtake your every sense. Your eyes close as you cry softly and he wishes he could commit that to memory. “That’s it, sweetheart. Shit. I- I gotta pull out. Got me worked up.” He confesses, reluctantly pulling his cock from inside of you. He reaches down to grip himself, pumping his length as he watches you recover.

“Cum in my mouth.” You immediately pant, reaching for him and pulling on his body as you beg. Wanting to see him cum as he fills your mouth is something you want to memorize.

Joel can’t deny you. He lets go of his cock and he shuffles up your body, straddling your chest. You lean forward to take his cock into your mouth and he groans. “Fuck. I- I’m not gonna last.” He confesses, “do you - fuck.” He chokes, pumping his cock as you suck on the tip.

Your eyes widen when the first rope of cum shoots into your mouth. Much harder than you had expected, it hits the back of your throat and forces you to start swallowing. Loving how his cock is pulsing, throbbing in your mouth as he spills, your hand gripping his hip to keep him close as you try to swallow every drop.

He closes his eyes as you take everything he gives you and he grunts your name, cock twitching inside of your mouth and his hand cups your cheek. “Fuckkkk.” He exhales shakily, one last slow thrust into your mouth until he pulls out of you.

Some of him has spill out of the corners of your mouth, making you lick your lips when he pulls out. “That was amazing.” You sigh, caressing his thigh as he hovers over you. “Thank you for the experience. And the wake up.”

Joel shifts off of you, reaching for you to curl you into his side. He cups your cheek and leans down to press his lips to yours. Not caring about the lingering taste of his cum. He doesn’t care about that. He kisses you firmly until he pulls back to nudge his nose against yours, “thank you for - well, I didn’t expect this when I saw smoke coming from your cabin.”

“I didn’t expect to have people come.” You admit easily, “but I’ve enjoyed having you both here. And while the storm blows, we will be nice and cozy here. And when you decide to leave, I’ll pack you up some supplies.” You offer softly.

Joel nods, unable to say anything else as you curl around him. He relaxes into the pillows, wanting to savor this time where he doesn’t have to fight for survival, to fight for his and Ellie’s lives. He kisses your forehead and closes his eyes, allowing himself to imagine a life spent here with you in safety.

Your eyes pop open when you hear the other bedroom door open. Joel is still asleep beside you and slowly, you ease out of the bed. Dressing quickly, you slip out of the room and out to find Ellie looking around. “Where’s Joel?” She demands, knowing the bar is still on the door and his gun is still here. 

“He’s asleep.” You look back towards the bedroom. “Why don’t we build up the fire and I’ll start breakfast?”

Ellie nods, confused that Joel is still asleep. He never sleeps this much. He must be exhausted from all the late nights. You walk over to the fire and Ellie follows, "so...Joel slept in your room?" She asks teasingly.

“He did.” You aren’t embarrassed, but you don’t offer anything else. You aren’t sure if Joel would want her to know his business. Bending down. You stir the coals to life and quickly add more wood.

Ellie nods, “good. He needs to relax.” She isn’t sure what you guys did but she’s glad Joel isn’t fighting for survival right now. “It’s Christmas Eve!I” She remembers, “we can have hot chocolate, right?” She asks, excited for the holiday she’s never celebrated.

“We can.” You nod and smile at her eagerness. “And tomorrow, you will get some Christmas presents.” It might just be some old clothes you have and some socks that you had knitted, but you would be able to give her something.

Ellie’s eyes widen, “presents?” She asks and you nod. “I- wow.” She surges forward to hug you, “thank you. This is - this is the best fucking place ever.”

“You’re welcome.” You laugh softly and hug her back. “Don’t be too excited, it’s not a Nintendo or one of those gaming systems that were all the rage the last time Christmas was popular, but it’s given in the spirit of making you happy.”

“Nintendo?” Ellie asks and she snaps her fingers. “I used to - me and my friend-” Her eyes get dark with a loss that you know too well. “I- I lost my friend. We used to play arcade games in this abandoned mall until she was-” Ellie trails off.

“I’m sorry.” You tell her quietly. Everyone has lost someone during this time, but it’s obvious that this friend had been dear to Ellie. “Hopefully one day you can find a place to play again, smiling when you think about her.”

Ellie nods, appreciating how you don’t treat her like a little kid and you actually tell her how you think without censoring stuff. She appreciates you treating her like she should be. Joel tries to censor stuff but he can only do so much in this new world. “So…what’s for breakfast?” She asks.

“Well, I still have some eggs from the chickens, so I had thought we would have eggs and wildberry oat cakes.” You grin. “Like pancakes, but I ground up the oats for the flour.”

Ellie grins, “fuck yes.” She makes a fist and you giggle at her enthusiasm for something so simple. “I can help. I’m sure Joel will be up soon.” She offers and you nod. 

Joel groans as he wakes up, his body stiffening as he tries to remember where he is until it hits him. He’s safe. It’s Christmas Eve. He swallows harshly and rubs his forehead as he sits up and reaches for the pajama pants you gave him that belonged to your father.

In the kitchen, the stove is hot, and you’re showing Ellie how you had ground up the oats using an old hand crank coffee grinder. Putting her to work with a grin as she talks to you.

Joel comes into the kitchen, finding you and Ellie cooking. “Something smells good.” He murmurs and walks over to you, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your neck.

Ellie puffs out a laugh and quickly turns her head. “I didn’t see nothin’ man.” She insists before showing Joel the oak cakes she had made, flavored with the dried wild berries you had picked this summer.

Joel appreciates the fact that she doesn’t call him out and he admires the oat cakes with a hum. “You did a good job, kid.” He praises her, suddenly able to let himself feel like the man he was before shit hit the fan. His shoulders aren’t tense, he doesn’t feel like he’s going to die every moment of the day. He ruffles her hair and she growls, making him chuckle.

You see that he’s relaxed and you smile, happy that you can provide that for this duo. To be a safe haven in the literal storm. “I thought that we would eat breakfast and then I will go into the cellar and bring up the small ham.” You offer Joel with a shrug. “I had planned on a small ham steak when it was just me, but it would be nice to have a proper Christmas dinner tomorrow?”

Joel bites his lip, “I don’t want you to waste all your food, sweetheart. You gotta survive the winter and I don’t- we don’t need to eat much. I’m already fuller than I’ve been in months.” He confesses, “don’t waste your resources.” He orders softly, not wanting to be the reason you go without.

“Joel….” You shake your head. “I have plenty of food.” You promise. “Although, I will need to get out to the barn at some point. Check on the animals.”

Joel nods, “I can do that. You stay in the warmth. I can see if there’s anything to hunt as well.” He adds, wanting to do his part. “I- I haven’t celebrated Christmas in many years and I- I do want this one to be special.” He admits and reaches up to cup your cheek.

“It will be special.” You agree, melting slightly at how kind he is being. “We will make sure of it. But you need to eat before going out in the cold.”

Ellie has never seen Joel like this before. He’s gentle. Something she hasn’t really witnessed. She’s seen the worst of Joel. The terrifying moments that he saved her life by doing what needed to be done. She’s never seen him caress someone. She focuses on the oat cakes as she turns away from the intimate moment, wanting to give Joel the time to enjoy this before he hardens up into the survivor he is

Breakfast is finished and it’s strange sitting down with other people, often it’s you and one of the books you are rereading. But it’s festive. You and Joel start talking about old Christmas traditions and Ellie is intrigued by the idea of ugly sweater contests.

Joel chuckles at her reaction, “yeah. Sarah used to make me and my brother Tommy wear the ugliest sweaters she could find.” His chuckles die down after a second, reminded of Sarah, and he frowns at how his heart aches but he’s happy to have the memories. “Another one was, uh, mistletoe.” He says, trying to distract from his reaction.

“Yeah.” You snort and grin. “Mistletoe actually grows wild around here.” You admit. Ellie has a confused look on her face. “If you were with a partner or a friend under the mistletoe, you had to kiss.” You explain with a small shrug.

Ellie smirks, "you should get some mistletoe. You know....so you guys have an excuse to kiss." She giggles and Joel clears his throat, raising his eyebrows at you. It's not the worst idea he has ever heard.

You shake your head, remembering how meddling teenagers can be. “I think that we will make the candy this morning.” You decide, eyeing Ellie. “How does that sound? Have the hot chocolate once Joel is back inside and everything is cozy again?”

Ellie nods enthusiastically, “hell yes.” She is so excited. She hasn’t experienced anything like this before. Joel smiles, pleased that she is happy. He remembers how much Sarah loved Christmas. “I’ll, uh, go get ready and I’ll go check on the animals.”

“Northwest corner, two hundred yards from the front door.” You’re sure that he had seen the barn, but just in case, you tell him. “I’ll bring in some more wood.”

Joel nods, standing up to go get dressed. You left some of your father’s clothes on the chair for him. If he thought it would be strange wearing a dead man’s clothes when the outbreak first happened, he’s immune to it now. Knowing that no one is making new clothes. At least not in the wilderness. He gets dressed and puts on his coat and boots, ready to face the storm for you.

You show Ellie how to clean up and start to bundle up as well. “Don’t stay out there too long.” You beg Joel as he grabs his rifle. “We don’t need meat too bad for you to risk yourself.”

Joel nods, knowing that he’s taken a lot of risks in life. He won’t linger out in the cold. He has to think of Ellie, of getting her where she needs to go. He winces as the storm blows in his face as he makes his way outside.

“I wish he wouldn’t try to hunt.” You murmur to Ellie as you wrap a scarf around your neck. “There’s plenty of food in the cellar.”

Joel squints through the blizzard as he makes his way into the barn, the animals all huddled together and Joel exhales, the cold air puffing as he checks on the animals, refreshes the water and hay, and makes his way back outside to see if he can find a lone deer or something.

With Ellie opening and closing the door for you, you manage to bring in another good few hauls of wood inside. Wanting to make sure that you stay nice and cozy over the next day or so. With Joel checking the animals, they should be set for a couple of days. You had meant to check them before the storm hit, but Joel and Ellie’s unexpected arrival had thrown that off. You had known the animals had plenty of food and water, but now you know they will be set for a few days.

Joel shivers as he picks up the two rabbits he managed to shoot and he makes his way back to your cabin. He knocks on the door and you unlock it. He shakes off the snow from his jacket as he enters the cabin, wiping off his boots and you take the rabbits so he can take them off along with his jacket.

“Go sit by the fire.” You huff, seeing how chapped his cheeks are and you rush over to the stove. You boiled together an herb tea, thinking it would be good for warming up the bones after coming back and you pour him a cup. “It’s herbs, but it’s tasty and hot.” You tell him, handing him the steaming mug. “I have some Vaseline for your cheeks.”

Joel huffs at you fussing over him but he secretly likes it. He rolls his eyes as he rubs his hands over the fire, feeling Ellie watching him with a smirk on her face. “We are gonna make candy today.” She tells him and he nods, trying to remember the last time he had candy.

You stoke the fire and pull out the large black cauldron to boil the sap. “So I have some syrup from my trees that we will boil down into a sticky candy.” You explain as you swing the hook around and set it up. “Then we pour it over clean snow.”

“Jesus. You have it all figured out, don’t cha sweetheart?” Joel says with awe in his voice. He’s never seen someone so capable except Bill. Only Bill never made goddamn candy. “Does it taste good?” He asks you.

“It’s amazing.” You shrug slightly, preening slightly at his praise. “We’ve been doing sugar boils for a long time. If you cook it down, you have sugar for the year.”

Joel hums, impressed at your ingenuity and your survival skills. “Sugar? For a year? Damn. I might never leave.” Ellie jokes and Joel meets your eyes, a hopeful sadness to them that makes his heart clench.

“You would be welcomed back anytime you’re traveling through the area.” You promise, although you know that you would probably never see them again when they leave. It’s just the way the world works now. “It takes a lot of sap, but there’s a lot of trees. I hang the buckets when the sap runs and gather it up once a day.”

Joel is impressed, certain that he’s never met a woman like you. Most women are strong in this new world but you seem to be thriving. Joel warms his hands and Ellie announces she’s gonna wash her hands before she helps you. Joel looks up as you walk over to him, displaying a piece of mistletoe in your hand. He stares at it for a second before he smiles, reaching for you. He cups your cheek and leans in to kiss you softly.

Leaning into the kiss, there’s something soft and sweet about this. You needed this. A reminder that you aren’t alone in the world and that there is good. Things to live for.

Joel knows he should be distancing himself from you but it’s hard. He pecks your lips when he hears the bathroom door open and he steps back just as Ellie enters the room. “Let’s make some candy!” She declares, rubbing her hands together.

Laughing at her enthusiasm, you show her how you are going to do it, bringing up a bucket of the sap from the cellar and pouring it into the cast iron cauldron. Soon, it’s bubbling over the fire and the entire house smells like syrup.

Joel watches you and Ellie work, making himself useful by gutting the rabbits for dinner. This feels too easy. Too domestic. It scares him a little.

It takes a long time, but Ellie is giggling as you talk about growing up here and thinking all the traditions and old ways were ridiculous when you were learning them. “Yeah, but now you have sugar.” She reminds you, making you grin. “True. And now, I’ve taught you some of the things that should never die out. Like the Christmas songs.”

Ellie grins, “so fucking cool. I wish I could’ve seen it. Before the world went to shit. How cool it must’ve been with the lights and the trees and - and the presents!” She exclaims and Joel sighs softly under his breath, wishing he could give her that dream but he can’t.

“It was really cool.” You admit. “There are times I wished that we had some sort of natural power. To run the lights.”

Ellie nods, “me too. Back in Boston, we had solar and some other sources but it wasn’t enough for a ton of lights.” She confesses, not really knowing much about how the QZ operated. Joel watches you interact with Ellie and he smiles, enjoying the way you seem to connect with her more than he has managed in months. He’s excited to spend Christmas with you and the kid. “You finish that candy yet?” He asks about an hour later.

“Almost.” You roll your eyes playfully at Ellie. About five minutes before, you had gathered clean snow in pans and you had shown her how to drizzle the thick, liquid candy into the snow and she had gone to town. “Come taste.”

Ellie grabs herself a piece, groaning at the taste, and Joel can't resist. He comes over after washing his hands and you pop a piece of candy into his mouth. He groans as the sugar hits his tongue. "Fuck, that - that's damn good." He murmurs, closing his eyes.

“Glad you enjoy.” You smile as it looks like Joel is having a religious experience. “I was thinking that some of the syrup might be used to bake the ham?” You ask, unsure of what they might think of the idea.

He nods, swallowing the candy, and finally opening his eyes. "Yes. Yes. That - Jesus, that's damn good." He confesses, licking his lips. Ellie turns her back to you both and he leans in to kiss you softly, letting you taste it from his lips.

Your eyes flutter closed and you wish that you could sink into the kiss but the kid is right here. You pull back reluctantly and smile.

The kiss is quick and Joel offers you a smirk as Ellie turns back just as he straightens up and he smiles at you softly, "let's get ready for Christmas." Joel says and Ellie grins, "fuck yes."

The day seems to go perfectly. You have decorations that you pull out and Ellie gets to squeal over. Soon the living room is filled with garland and bows, the small tree you had brought in just because you love the pine scent haphazardly decorated with the old ornaments. Adding to the decorations that you had up before they arrived. You sneak into the rooms and pull out items that both Joel and Ellie can use when they leave, a nice hunting knife that was your brothers for Ellie, thick socks and a heavy lined leather jacket for Joel, along with other things. You wrap them in scapes of flannel and bring out a stack of them to put under the tree.

Joel comes out of the bathroom to find Ellie shrieking over the tree. His eyes widen, "wow. I- shit. This is - presents?" He frowns, confused about what you managed to find to wrap up. He feels bad he didn't get you anything but he might have an idea of what to get you.

You smile at the unbridled joy on the teens face and shrug. “Just popped down to the store.” You joke. “Last minute Christmas deals are fantastic.” You had managed to find a pocket watch of your grandfather’s that was solar powered. You plan on giving it to Joel and telling him to charge it when he leaves since his wrist watch is broken.

Joel chuckles, coming over to you and he wraps his arm around your waist. “Thank you for making this so special for her.” He says, kissing your cheek. He allows himself to be tender, to shed the hard shell he hides in when he’s out there trying to survive.

“She’s a good kid.” You acknowledge, leaning into him. “I’m honestly happy that the two of you were here.” You bite your lip. “I was wondering what was the point of living out here by myself.”

Joel frowns, not liking the sound of that. He knows what it's like to be alone. "Then maybe...maybe you'll meet someone who will stay here with you. You gotta keep fighting. You gotta keep living. Otherwise all of this would've been for nothing." He says softly, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“Maybe.” You smile, the motion slightly bittersweet and shrug. “It’s not exactly a major metropolitan area. But maybe lightning will strike twice. You came when I needed something other than my own voice.”

Joel nods, letting go of you. He knows you want him to stay. If he’s honest, he wouldn’t mind staying, but he can’t. He has to find Tommy. He has to get Ellie where she needs to go. “You’ll be okay. You’re too good to not be.” He says softly as Ellie marvels over the tree. “Who wants to start preparing dinner?” You ask and Ellie nods, happy to help.

Dinner isn’t the ham, you are saving that for tomorrow, but the rabbit casserole you had decided on would go over well. You show Ellie what you are doing and how you make it and in no time, you’re sliding the dish into the oven.

Joel feels relaxed and he notices the guitar in the corner of the room. “Do you play?” He asks, trying to remember the last time he played the guitar.

“I do.” You smile at the guitar. “My father taught me a long time ago. After the world ended, it was the way we entertained ourselves during the evenings.”

“You play? I’ve always wanted to learn.” Ellie declares, eyes wide as she walks over to the guitar. “I used to play. Back in the day. I- I didn’t - haven’t played in years.” Joel confesses, “maybe we can teach you some chords?” He offers Ellie, wanting to give her something since you wrapped up some presents.

Joel nods, “I’m sure we can arrange that.” He promises and Ellie beams. 

“Great! That - fuck yes.” She says and Joel doesn’t reprimand her like he normally does. It’s Christmas Eve. 

“Come on, kid. Let’s help with the dinner.”

Ellie sets the table and Joel pours out the herbal tea you had made. “There’s a bottle of wine in the cellar.” You offer, shrugging slightly. It’s your last bottle but it’s a good excuse to open it as any. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

Joel won’t deny you if you want a drink. Hell, Bill and Frank went through most of their wine during their years together. He wouldn’t mind a glass. “Can I have a glass?” Ellie asks and Joel shakes his head, “no. You’re too young.”

You tilt your head and bite your lip, knowing it’s not your place to interfere, but you do anyway. “I don’t think a glass would hurt.” You offer. “My father let me have a small glass of wine on special occasions starting at ten years old.”

“Pleaseeee.” Ellie asks, “I used to drink vodka. Sneak it back in the QZ.” 

Joel sighs, knowing the world has gone to shit and so have social standards. He nods, “one glass.” Ellie hisses in victory and Joel snorts, “one glass.” He repeats, knowing he has to limit himself too just in case something happens. You have to always be prepared.

You hide your smirk of triumph as you get down the wine glasses. “Joel, will you go down to the cellar? The wine rack is on the left.”

Joel nods, making his way downstairs to the cellar and he sees the stored food you have there. It’s impressive. It’s clear you’ve prepared a lot and he is proud of you. You’re not his. He’s not yours, but he’s proud of the strong, capable woman you are. He grabs the wine, blowing off the dust and he carries it up the stairs.

You are pulling the casserole out of the oven when Joel comes upstairs. “Perfect timing.” You smile softly, wishing you could have this every day. “Ellie, throw another log on the fire, will you?” You ask the girl.

Ellie nods, stoking the fire, and Joel takes the wine opener, remembering how to open a bottle of wine. He pulls out the cork and grabs the glasses, pouring three glasses just as you serve up the casserole.

“Soon, the snow will bury the cabin and insulate it even more.” You muse, the wind still rattling the shutters as the snow falls. “But we are nice and cozy here. The living room looks so festive thanks to Ellie’s decorating.”

Joel hands you a glass before he hands one to Ellie, teasing her by pulling it back for a moment before letting her have it. He takes his own glass in hand and clinks it with yours and Ellie. “Merry Christmas.” He declares, reminded of when he and Tommy would cheers with beers on Christmas Eve.

“Merry Christmas.” You hum and Ellie beams. “Merry Christmas!” She all but shouts it out, making you laugh. 

“Let’s sit down and eat while it’s hot, shall we?” You ask and the teenager practically bolts for the table.

Joel chuckles and takes a seat. It’s strange to enjoy this time. To not feel like he constantly has a target on his back. He sips the wine after he sits down and groans softly at the smell of the casserole. “God, you could’ve opened a restaurant back in the day.” He compliments you.

“Thank you.” You fluster at the compliment and bite your lip. “I am sure that anything tastes good when food can be scarce.” You know you’re lucky, you had a family who worked hard and prepared so you can reap the benefits of it for years to come. “Merry Christmas, Ellie, Joel.”

Ellie holds her glass up, feeling so fucking cool as she clinks her glass with yours and says “Merry Christmas.” 

Joel smiles, clinking his glass and when his eyes meet yours, he can’t help but stare for a long moment. Taking in this rare minute of peace and happiness in his otherwise turbulent world. He feels safe and secure. A rarity. And all because of you. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He murmurs, winking at you.

You fluster again, feeling your cheeks heating up and you smile. It’s been such a whirlwind and you have enjoyed having them. “May your next Christmas be just as cozy.”

Joel doubts it, unable to confirm if he’s even going to be alive for the next Christmas but he murmurs a “thanks” and takes another sip of the wine. You grin and he continues eating his dinner with a groan at how good the food is after so long without consistent meals.

The meal is finished, devoured by both Joel and Ellie taking seconds and in the younger girl’s case, thirds. You smile at Ellie after she clears the table and notice that her cheeks are flushed. “How did you like wine?” You hadn’t missed her slipping some more wine from the bottle.

“It was…okay.” She admits, “kinda burned.” 

Joel snorts, “that’s what it’s supposed to you. You get used to it. Then it tastes good.” He promises and ruffles her hair. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Sleep off the wine.” Joel tells the teenager.

You laugh when Ellie yawns and wish her a good night. “Presents in the morning!” She cheers and quickly shuffles off to the room that is hers for now. “I’ll clean up and then we can sleep if you want.” You offer.

Joel waits until Ellie’s door is shut and he shakes his head, setting down the plate you have in your hand on the counter, before he reaches for you to drag you against his body. His nose nudges your chin, dragging along your jaw until he whispers in your ear, “I don’t want to sleep.”

Shivering, you lean into his touch. “What do you want to do?” You whisper, almost afraid that you are reading the situation wrong.

Joel smiles against your skin, “everything. Want to touch you again. Hear you moan my name.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up until he is cupping your tits. “Want to feel you.” He whispers harshly, his mouth going dry at the idea of sliding into you again.

You moan softly and nod. “I want that too.” You agree, pressing up against him shamelessly. It’s thrilling that he wants you, even if it’s just because of convenience. Even if he just wanted you because of that, he wants you.

His hands squeeze your breasts as he kisses along your neck. “You’re so beautiful, darlin’. Wanna make you moan my name again.” He murmurs, sliding his hands back down to grip your waist and he turns you so he can softly kiss you.

The kisses you’ve shared have become familiar, your own hand sliding up into his hair as you kiss him back. Falling into his arms easily as he presses you into the counter.

His tongue slides into your mouth and he groans at the warmth of your body. He loves it. He groans into your mouth and his hands caress your body. “Bedroom.” He murmurs, wanting to see all of you.

Joel is one step behind you as you eagerly disappear into the bedroom. You’ll have to come back out, but for right now, you want nothing more than this man for Christmas.

He shuffles you into the bedroom, gently kicking the door shut behind him, and his hands grab the hem of your shirt, eager to pull it over your head. “Fuck baby. You’re so goddamn gorgeous.” He murmurs before surging down to kiss along your chest, kissing every inch of skin he can access until he bites down on your nipple through your bra.

“Joel.” You moan softly, eyes flitting closed and you are eager for him to touch you again. The fact that he is eager makes you drip with arousal. “Touch me again.” You beg softly. “Make me- I want you to fuck me.”

Joel groans as you beg him and how can he resist? He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and drags it down your body, exposing your breasts which he eagerly attacks with his mouth, wrapping his lips around your nipple to suck and bite on it while his other hand squeezes your other breast.

His touch is burned into your skin. You will feel it for the rest of your life. Moaning, you reach down to unbutton your pants, eager to strip down and have him inside you again.

He chuckles into your flesh at the way you shove your pants down your legs and he helps you. When you’re naked, he guides you back towards the bed and pushes you down onto it. “Tell me what you want, baby.” He murmurs, his voice quiet but demanding.

You look up at him and bite your lip. “Strip for me.” You demand, wanting to see this rough, virile man take his clothes off for you. “I want to see all of you. And then I want you to make me cum.”

He can’t deny you. He shifts off of you and works on the buttons of the shirt you gave him. He slowly unbuttons it and exposes his chest. His dark eyes focus on you as he works on the belt before he unbuttons his jeans, shoving them down alongside with his briefs to expose his half hard cock.

“I want to suck your cock again before you leave.” Your cunt throbs and you have to press your thighs together. “It made me so wet.” You admit. “Want to see if it will happen again. Maybe you could cum in my mouth again?”

Joel groans, “baby. You- you don’t have to. I want to taste you again. Maybe…you wanna sit on my face and suck my cock?” He asks, always wanting to give you the choice.

You clench around nothing, turned on by the idea and you nod quickly. “Please.” You beg. “I - is it bad that I want to suck your cock? I love the way you moan.”

He s hakes his head,“not bad. Most women…they don’t like sucking cock.” He confesses. He shifts to lay down on the bed beside you. His cock hardens at the idea of you sitting on his face and he pats his cheek, “take a seat, sweetheart.”

You giggle slightly and bite your lip, wondering how to best do this. Joel takes your thigh and starts to guide you over him. “This is- really intimate.” You huff, feeling a little exposed with your holes on display to him.

He smiles, “it is but I’ll take care of you.” He promises and you hover over his face. He groans at your wet folds and he grabs your ass, pulling you down onto him with a moan of your name that’s soon smothered when his tongue slides through your folds.

Like last night and this morning, Joel’s tongue is magical, making you forget all about everything but the pleasure of him between your thighs. Until his cock twitches in front of your face because of your moans. Wrapping your fingers around his thick girth, you lean down and take the head into your mouth eagerly.

“Jesus.” He hisses into your pussy, his tongue going lazy from his swipes as you take him into your mouth. “Fuck.” He mutters into your folds and he hisses when you moan around him. Reignited, he goes hard on making you moan again, sucking your clit into his mouth.

It becomes a competition, seeing who can make the other moan louder, to stop pleasuring the other because the intensity is too much. You pump the base of his cock and take him deep into your mouth.

Joel groans into your flesh as you take him deeper, swallowing around him. He sucks on your clit, desperately trying to make you cum on his face.

You can't help but moan around his cock, grinding your hips back shamelessly onto his face. You had gotten over your embarrassment really quickly when you learned how much he liked this. It makes you take him deeper, swallowing around him as he spurs you on.

Joel groans into your cunt as you rock back onto him, helping him get you closer to cumming on his face. He pants as you work his cock a little harder, spit gathering in the coarse hair at the base of his length, and he grabs your hips, working you a little faster on top of him.

It's becoming a frenzy. Both of you are trying so hard to make the other break but Joel has the advantage of experience on his side. His grip shifts and he presses his thumb against your other hole, making you choke around his cock and the next flick of his tongue sends you flying.

Joel loves how you cry out, unable to care if you wake Ellie up as you moan so sweetly for him. He works you through it, his thumb pressed against your puckered hole until it slightly dips in to stretch you and he continues flicking your clit until you cry out in protest.

You rock your hips forward, pulling away from his still working mouth to make him chuckle. Taking his cock back in your mouth in an almost desperate attempt to make him feel just as overwhelmed although you know he will probably not want to finish in your mouth right now.

Joel pulls back, “wanna- wanna make you cum on my cock.” He pants, “please baby. Hands and knees.” He orders, wanting to do something different for you to experience everything while he’s here.

Moaning, you scramble off of him, eager to try the position you had always wanted to feel. You had been too nervous to ask if he would fuck you that way, but now you get what you want without ever even asking. “Fuck me.” You beg, looking over your shoulder as he shuffles to his knees.

​​Joel groans, leaning in to press his body against yours, his cock sliding along the crack of your ass. “Fuck baby. You’re - shit - you’re so pretty.” He murmurs, caressing your back before he grips his cock and positions himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you.

Honestly, this position is more intense for you. He feels bigger than he had when you were riding him. Your back bows slightly and you push back to let him grind into him even more. "You're pretty." You gasp out, closing your eyes. You're sure that he's just saying that because he's inside you but you are a sure thing. He can fuck you as often as he wants while he's here. "More baby, please."

He can’t fucking deny you anything when your pussy is choking him like a goddamn vice. He pants and caresses your ass before smacking it. “You want more?” He asks and your pathetic whine makes him chuckle. He goes harder, his hips hitting your ass, and he eagerly watches the flesh jiggle.

All you can do is hold on, your fingers twisting in the sheets under you. After a particularly rough thrust, your elbows give out and you collapse down onto your face, right as you moan out his name. "Jooooooeeeellllllllll."

He groans, “that’s it baby. God, feel so fuckin’ tight around my cock.” He hisses, thrusting deep and hard. He shifts to plant his foot on the bed, jaw clenched as he works to push you into an orgasm. He wants to hear it again.

Rocking into you harshly, you grunt and moan while he fucks you. Clenching down around him every time he pushes deep, you love the way he twitches inside you. “Joel, fuck, yes.”

He groans as you clench around him. He reaches down to rub your clit, “cum for me. Cum for me baby.” He leans over you, kissing along your neck.

His chest is at your back and you moan. The expert touch of his fingers quickly has your body bucking under his. Starting to cum just like he ordered you to.

Joel groans when you clamp around his cock. He pants into your ear, kissing along your neck, and he rubs your clit a little faster to work you through it. “That’s it, baby.” He coos, rocking into you.

You pant against the sheet and moan. Wishing that he would fill you up just once so you could experience it. “Cum for me.” You whimper, closing your eyes in bliss.

He pants, so close to orgasm, and he hisses as he rocks into you. Over and over again. “Fuck. I- shit. Shit. Shit.” He manages to pull out just as he cums over your ass and back, hot seed hitting your skin.

You whine at the loss of his cock inside you, humming as you listen to him gasp for breath. “Fuck.” Your grin is tired and satisfied as you slowly straighten out on the bed. You know you will have to let him clean you up, or go to the bathroom to clean, but you don’t want to move right now.

Joel is uncaring as he looms over you and kisses along your neck. “So good, baby.” He murmurs, caressing your side until he’s shuffling off of the bed to head into the bathroom to clean you up.

Listening to someone move around the house is a luxury that you savor. Closing your eyes again with a smile on your face. Almost ready to beg him to stay and help you stave off the loneliness but you know he can’t.

Joel comes back in with a wet rag to clean you. He caresses your skin after you’re clean and leans down to kiss you softly. “Get into bed, sweetheart. It’ll be Christmas morning before you even know it.” He promises, tossing the rag in the sink after cleaning himself up and he pulls the covers back for you to get under them.

You climb into bed and into his arms. Enjoying the strength and steadiness of his heart beating in his chest. “Good night, Joel.” You murmur, holding back a yawn and suddenly ready to sleep.

Joel wraps around you after he blows out the candle on the nightstand. He smiles and kisses you softly until he falls asleep, a rare look of complete peace on his face. He winces when the sunlight streams through the slats of the shutters hours later and realizes it’s Christmas Day. He smiles softly and kisses your face, waiting until you whimper awake and he whispers, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas.” You groan softly, waking up and snuggling into his hold and sighing contentedly. You feel warm, safe and not alone, something that you had been wishing for a long time. It’s the best gift that you could have been given and you tilt your head up to kiss his chin. “Best Christmas ever.” You hum, kissing down along his throat gently, enjoying the sleep-warm scent of him. Memorizing it for when your bed is colder without him. “We should get up and get ready for an excited teenager.” 

Joel groans softly, playfully, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Or we could just stay here all day.” He suggests just seconds before he kisses you softly. “She would kick the door down. She’s so excited.” He chuckles against your lips.

You sigh softly and smile. “We will have a good day. Pretend the world is normal outside.” You tell him. “Be cozy in this little bubble for awhile.”

Joel smiles, kissing your head, and he shifts to get out of the bed, grabbing his pajama pants, and he looks over at you, winking. “I’ll go make some coffee.” He offers as he grabs his shirt and slips out of your room into the kitchen.

You lay there for a moment before you get up and start dressing. Listening to the sounds of Joel opening the wood box in the stove and stirring the coals. The thunk of more wood being added. It’s completely domestic and you love it more than you should.

Ellie comes out once you’re dressed, eyes wide at the presents under the tree. “We got presents?” She exclaims and you nod, “yeah. Santa came.” You tease and she grins, rushing over to you and she wraps her arms around you. “You’re the fucking best.”

You grin as you hug her back. “You’re welcome. I hope that you like what I picked out for you.” The smell of coffee soon fills the air and you look towards the kitchen. “How about we have breakfast first and then presents?” You suggest.

Ellie pouts a little and Joel nods, reminded of Sarah when she used to be so eager to open gifts on Christmas morning. “Breakfast first.” He says sternly and Ellie nods, knowing it’s best to not argue with her father figure.

You decided to make breakfast quick since Ellie was so excited, so it’s done almost as soon as the coffee and you grin as you set it on the table. “We will have presents opened in no time.” You promise her with a wink. 

Ellie tries not to pout as she agrees while Joel pours you out a coffee. You wink at him and he leans in to kiss you softly, “merry Christmas baby.” He murmurs and Ellie smirks, “Joel. Never knew you were a softie.”

Joel rolls his eyes and huffs but you just grin at how cheeky she is. Bolting down her breakfast as quickly as she can in her eagerness to get the day moving along so she can open her presents. Taking a sip of your coffee, you start your own breakfast when Joel sits down. It sounds like the storm has died down outside and the cabin is nice and warm. It’s a good day.

Youk grin as Ellie practically vibrates as she looks at the presents under the tree. “Go on sweetheart. Get the presents handed out.” Joel orders, knowing he would get Sarah to do that for him and Tommy when they’d celebrate Christmas.

You show Ellie which pill of presents is which, and pour you and Joel refresher cups of coffee to bring into the living room. The fire has been built back up and for a moment, you pretend, it’s just a normal Christmas morning. Sitting down on your old sofa and reaching for a throw to toss over your legs as Ellie bounces around creating two piles of gifts between her and Joel.

Joel frowns when he sees you don’t have anything and he remembers the simple gold ring he keeps on the gold chain around his neck. It belonged to his mother and no one has really seen it. He kept it hidden when he was in the QZ but grabbed it when he was leaving. He watches Ellie divide the presents and he looks at you, “this is too much, baby.” He says and Ellie is already ripping into a present.

“No it’s not.” You shake your head. “Things are hard to come by.” You murmur quietly. “I’m all alone. I don’t need my entire family’s wardrobe and things.” You remind him. “You two will be more comfortable traveling.”

Joel nods, opening a present to see a flannel shirt. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He murmurs and leans in to kiss your cheek. He watches Ellie open her presents with a grin and he frowns when you hand him another present. He quietly opens it, the velvet case and his eyes widen when he sees the watch. “This- I can’t accept this.”

“Yes you can.” You shake your head. “It’s solar. Hasn’t been used since my daddy died, but it’s a good watch.” You tell him. “I noticed your watch is broken, you wear it for the memory it carries. This will carry the memory of this Christmas, of me, with you.” You reach for his hand and close it over the watch. “I want you to carry it with you when you leave here.”

Joel caresses the watch, honored you’d want to give him something so special, so close to your family. He swallows harshly and leans in to kiss your cheek. “Thank you. I- wow. I - thank you.” He repeats, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Thank you baby.” He murmurs, “I love it.”

“Of course.” Ellie squeals and coos over her presents, clothes from your younger years and even some of your old jewelry for her to have. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She squeals and crushes you in a hug before she bounds off to try on the new things. You are happy she enjoyed everything and she’s having a good Christmas. “Now, I’ll start our dinner and make us some hot toddy’s to enjoy.”

Joel nods, “I’m just gonna use the bathroom.” He murmurs and stands up, heading into the bathroom to pull the chain from around his neck so he can take the ring off. He places the chain around his neck and holds the ring, heading out into the kitchen to find you. “Baby. I - I have a gift for you. It- it was my mom’s. I want you to have it.”

It takes you a minute to realize he’s trying to give you a ring. “Joel.” You whisper, frowning at the ring. You know that he will give you the same argument that you had given him. It’s probably the only thing that he has to offer you in his mind and to refuse it would be an insult. You look up into his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

Joel smiles softly, a rare event, “like you. I want you to have it. You’ve shown us so much - well, no one has ever been quite as nice and I want you to have something special.” He says, reaching down to close your fist around the ring. “It’s something to remember me by.”

“I’ll never forget you, I promise.” You reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “Thank you, Joel. I’ll cherish it.” Leaning in, you kiss him softly, wishing again that he could stay and you could see what could grow between you. But it’s not to be. “Merry Christmas.”

Joel smiles, enjoying that you are happy on this holiday. “Merry Christmas.” He cups your cheek, his dark eyes meeting yours and he leans to softly kiss you. “I’ll never forget you.” He promises, “never.”

****

You shove another wrapped parcel of food into Ellie’s bag, zipping it up and patting it. They have stayed for two more days until the storm passed and every day was spent falling in love with both of them. Nights in Joel’s arms and days playing board games with Ellie and laughing at her sense of humor. Now it is time for them to leave and you are putting on a brave face. “You are all set.” You promise her, accepting the bone crushing hug she gives you and when she pulls away, you wrap her scarf around her neck and pull the beanie down over her ears. “Stay warm.”

“I’m gonna miss you.” Ellie huffs, squeezing you tight once more and pulls away to wipe her eyes since she’s told you she’s not going to cry. 

Joel swallows harshly as he steps towards you after you hug Ellie. He pulls you close, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in. He’s going to miss you. So much. He has to leave though. He leans down to press his lips to yours, uncaring of Ellie watching as his tongue slides against your lips.

It’s easy to let him in again. Clinging to him and cherishing the last kiss you’ll ever have. “Stay safe.” You beg softly after a long minute where you are both panting for air when you pull back. “I hope you accomplish your mission. Find your brother, be happy.”

Joel doubts he could be happy. Not like how he’s felt while he’s been with you. These past few days…he hasn’t felt this at peace since he…well, pre-outbreak. He sighs and rests his forehead against yours and he kisses you softly one last time. “Be good for me, baby.” He murmurs against your lips, “stay alive.” He adds, knowing that being alone can be hard.

You give a small smile, knowing you can’t promise that, just like he can’t promise to be safe. The world is full of uncertainties and danger. Watching them from your porch is the hardest thing you’ve done in a long time. Waiting until they disappear from sight before you go back inside, the warm cabin is colder and lonelier now without the two people who had literally broken in and stolen your heart.

****

It’s been a year. Joel has been keeping track of the time and he asked Tommy to confirm it. After telling Ellie his plan, she’d been all in on joining him on the trek back to your cabin. Along the way, he had chopped down the best Christmas tree he could find and he knocks on your cabin with the snow just starting to fall on Christmas Eve.

Your gun in your hand, you warily unbar the door and slowly open it. You had shuttered the cabin earlier and the decorations are still in the box, in no mood this year for Christmas. The knock on the door seems almost surreal and you squint out through the crack before your eyes widen. “J-Joel? Ellie?” 

He grins, seeing your beautiful face, and his memories did you no justice. God, you’re gorgeous. He nods, seeing the gun and he doesn’t care as he surges forward to cup your cheek and press his lips to yours.

You melt into the kiss immediately. Hastily setting the gun down on the table next to the door and throwing your arms around him. You never thought you would see him again and here he is, on your doorstep for a Christmas Eve. It’s the best present you’ve ever had.

He kisses you until he’s pulling back and pecking your lips. “Jesus, it’s freezing. Can we come in?” Ellie eventually interrupts the moment and Joel rolls his eyes. “I missed you.” He murmurs after they take off their jackets and boots and he’s wrapping his arms around you. “We found my brother. He’s - he’s in Jackson. It’s - it’s amazing. It’s a proper town. With people. Doctors. A goddamn bar. Come back with us to our house.” He requests softly.

“Your house? L-leave?” You are so confused but Ellie pipes in. 

“Joel and I have a house. It’s got plenty of room and we want you to come. We can bring whatever you want and come back with the wagons to get everything.” She bites her lip. “Joel’s missed you. A lot. He’s been a grumpy fucker since we left.” 

Your eye brow lifts when Joel nods. “I’ve missed you.” He repeats. “I want you to come live with me and Ellie. You can bring the chickens and everything you want from here.”

You stare at him in shock. It’s been a year and he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. “Baby. I- I want you to come back with us but you don’t - it’s your choice.” He promises, caressing your cheek and he lowers his hand, “you don’t have to decide now. It’s Christmas. Let’s celebrate and decorate the tree and then we can discuss it.” He promises, trying to compromise.

“I- yes..” you decide instantly. “We will have our Christmas here and then I will go back with you to Jackson.” You have been miserable without Joel or anyone else here and you never thought you would see him again. He’s back and he wants you with him. Christmas with Joel might have started here, with the white Christmas that had blown him into your life, but next year, you will celebrate with Joel and Ellie in Jackson. Next year and years to come.

[wileys-russo]

cold snap II l.williamson x reader

I have no idea where this came from or what it really is besides a whole loft of softness cold snap II l.williamson x reader

the early winter cold snap came as no surprise to anyone who'd spent a few years living in england, and if you'd lived there your entire life it was just another unfortunate but expected consequence of the dreary uk weather.

that wasn't to say that though you always knew it coming that it wasn't unpleasant, from the plummeting temperatures, icy roads, snow covered yards, frosted windows and the icy chill of the wind as it pricked at any and every sliver of skin it could find like tiny little pin pricks.

but though it had its downsides there were some perks to the temperature drop, to you the key thing being the fashion. you'd always loved the feeling of being bundled up in a multitude of clothing. hoodies and jackets and coats and scarves and beanies, you had it all and would near drown yourself in layers like a burrito.

not that you really needed them when you had the best defence against the cold you could ever hope for, leah.

leah who loathed the cold, hated the temperature drop and detested winter with all her might. any chance she got she'd whisk you both off for a weekend away somewhere warm, which was seldom given her career choice and insane schedule.

but the best defence against the cold snap was her body pressed up against yours, arms tightly squeezing you as you'd melt into her embrace, warmth flooding your body as her rosy pink lips gently peppered tender loving kisses against any sliver of skin they could as if trying to protect it from the incoming cold.

it was routine to find yourselves wrapped up together in a mountain of blankets on the sofa wearing one anothers hoodies and limbs entangled. your body cradled between leahs legs as her hands would creep up your top to find your stomach, tracing gentle patterns on the skin with her fingertips.

the gentle lull of her heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of her chest would reward you with a sense of safety and security you knew you'd never find with anyone else, not that you ever felt the need to test the theory.

leah was perfect, and she was yours as much as you were hers.

you'd always been a morning person by nature especially having valued your studies as a teenager you were always early to school, hidden away in the library with your nose buried in a book or scribbling down notes.

leah who was your best friend at the time ribbed you relentlessly for it. but the blonde was hardly ever on time for class herself and you'd often teased she was even late to her own birth which her mum roared laughing at.

but over the years you'd tried to break her out of her sleeping habits leah learned that those little pockets of time alone with you in the library before school were some of her most treasured memories.

she'd watch you over the top of the book she was pretending to read, eyes flickering down to the page when you'd look up and almost catch her with a smile.

leah loved how you looked those mornings, your eyebrows furrowed and glasses nearly slipping off the end of your nose as you'd quietly mumble along to what you were reading, finger tracing along the words as you went.

to leah you'd always been an anchor point. reliable and dependable and endlessly endearing, and yet always seeming just out of reach as you'd flit from relationship to relationship never really settling down with anyone long enough to allow them to get to know you.

but that was where leah knew she'd always won because there wasn't a single part of you that you'd not opened up and shared with her, and much to the infuriation of your partners over the years leah was always your go to person for everything and anything, and the first person you'd go to with any sort of news good or bad.

it didn't take leah long to realise that she was in love with you, but fearing that if she stuck her foot into the rotating door of partners you'd spun over the years that her feelings might not be shared and she'd be rejected or worse lose you entirely, so it took her a long time to be honest with you.

her mum had known of leahs true feelings for years and was forever encouraging leah to open herself up and be upfront with you, and there were too many times to count where leah was sure she was about to do it but then she'd chicken out right at the last minute.

but as leahs football career began to grow and afternoon trainings and weekend games turned into her missing days and sometimes weeks of school for camps, tournaments and academy commitments it had finally clicked.

you were just as much in love with leah as she was with you, though neither of you were yet to actually realise this.

but what you did both learn was that distance makes the heart grow fonder and the more time you had to spend apart the more you silently yearned for one another.

it was your final year of high school and leah had just returned from a tournament in morocco with the england under 19's squad. with the yearly cold snap having just kicked in and the blonde having coming from scorching temperatures you'd died laughing as she turned up to school in about ten layers.

"yes miss i've been told and i've already been given my warnings! but its fucking freezing and these don't do anything." leah snapped at your english teacher who warned her for the grey hoodie she had on beneath your uniform, yanking at the paper thin blazer covering her.

you'd grabbed her knee beneath the table and squeezed gently, giving her a warning look as leah mumbled an apology and your teacher hummed but let her outburst slide much to your relief.

"hey you need to calm down you can't afford an afternoon in you've got training." you warned quietly, her head falling to your shoulder as you shared your textbook, leah having overslept and turned up late she'd forgotten almost everything bar her head.

but with her mood only worsening as time went on you'd opted not to tease her for it, rather doing everything you could to try and make her first day back easier. "i wish i was in bed." leah mumbled with a frown, tapping her foot against yours to signal to turn the page which you did.

"you and me both lee, you and me both. lunch is next anyway, then two more classes and you get to run around and get all dirty and sweaty like you love!" you pinched her cheek and again turned the page as her foot knocked against yours.

"two classes you aren't in." leah huffed, pulling her head off your shoulder and slumping backwards into her chair, arms crossed over her chest with a frown.

the bell to end class cut you off before another word could be said, leah shoving your books back into your bag for you as the two of you joined the rest of your friends, making your way to where the six of you always ate together.

"leah!" you laughed as the girl attached herself to you from behind, hugging your back firmly to her front. "m'hungry and i'm cold." the girl mumbled, having already eaten her food you knew she was eyeing off yours.

"and thats my problem how exactly?" you mocked, shoving the last mouthful of your sandwich into your mouth and leaning up to kiss her cheek. "mate the betrayal!" leah gasped, fingers digging into your ribs as you squealed and tried to push away from her but the girls iron grip was unbreakable.

both of you missed the knowing look shot among your friends, all of whom had front row seats to your endless pining over one another over the years and had spoken to the pair of you individually about no longer dancing around it.

"wanna go to the library?" leah asked, chin resting on your shoulder as you reveled in the warmth from her body hugging yours. "is leah catherine williamson willingly asking to go somewhere with books!" you gasped sarcastically as she flicked your ear.

"yeah its warm in there they have heaters!" "alright you've sold me lets go."

~

"stop looking at me and read those notes, you need to catch up!" you kicked her from where the two of you sat cross legged on the floor, hidden away behind the aisles. "but its so boring man!" leah groaned, snapping the book closed and dropping it in her lap.

"then go find a book thats interesting, i have to finish this." you chuckled, gaze dropping back to the homework in your lap as leah rolled her eyes. "thats not even mandatory and we got it an hour ago, you don't need to do it right now!" leahs foot nudged the book.

"its not mandatory for me but you're behind and its mandatory for you. so if i finish it now then you can take it with you and copy after training so you won't need to stress." you answered without looking away, swatting her foot away as leahs face softened.

it was at that moment as you sat together in the library, hair tucked away in a beanie and glasses once again hanging off your nose that leahs body surged with adoration for you and for the first time along with that came a confidence she'd lacked until now.

"hey. can we talk about something?" her foot bumped you again and hearing the obvious switch in her tone of voice you nodded, putting aside your notebook and raising your eyebrows to show you were listening.

"so i have this friend yeah? and she's sort of got this massive dumb crush on someone shes really close to, like her best mate." leah started, avoiding your eyes as she looked up to the roof and you frowned a little.

"okay." you nodded slowly, encouraging her to continue. "but she's afraid that if she tells her best mate that they won't feel the same way and it'll make it weird between them." leah continued, still not looking at you as you moved so you were sitting beside her.

"okay." you repeated, unsure if you were misreading this as your hand sat dormant by leahs. "so what would you do?" leah asked, a lot quieter now. "if i was your friend?" you clarified as she nodded, neither of you making eye contact.

"i would tell your friend that lifes too short, that she should tell her best mate. because if they are close then even if the feelings aren't the same it won't ruin anything, and if the feelings are the same then by telling them she won't miss out on an opportunity to explore that." you answered honestly, heart hammering now as you hoped you weren't misunderstanding.

a silence fell between the two of you the only noise the gentle chatter of your peers scattered around the library but in your own little bubble all you could focus on was leah.

suddenly your pinky moved just a few centimetres, gently nudging leahs before stilling. holding her breath leahs own pinky inched sideways a little grazing yours, and slowly you felt it interlock, eventually her whole hand grabbing onto yours and interlacing your fingers.

"so i'm sort of in love with you and i have been for years, and i don't know if this makes things really weird and if it does then i'm so sorry but you're like the best human ever and-" leahs head snapped toward yours as she started to ramble making your lips curl into a smile.

leahs words died in her throat as you cleared the gap between you and cut her off pressing your soft lips to hers, pulling away as the blonde stared at you dumbstruck.

"does that fix your friends worries?"

~

several months later and you and leah were even more smitten with one another than before. with school nearly finished you knew leah was angling for a contract with the arsenal senior team and when leah wanted something she put her entire being it making it happen.

"hi love! she's still upstairs, even though she knows we need to leave in five minutes!" leahs mum amanda greeted you with a hug before yelling upstairs making you laugh. "im nearly ready woman keep your pants on!" came leahs yell back making her mum roll her eyes.

"charmer she is." amanda sighed as you shot her a grin and she hurried off to make sure jacob was ready to go, the four of you headed to watch him play with his own team.

jogging upstairs you entered your girlfriends bedroom but frowned unable to see your actual girlfriend inside of it. "rah!" you jumped about a foot in the air as hands grabbed your waist and spun you around.

"dickhead! don't do that." you scowled as she put you down, doubled over laughing as you kicked her and she whined, flopping down onto her bed. "leah you're not even dressed, hurry up!" you groaned impatiently.

"okay sorry mum!" the blonde mocked, disappearing into her closet as you clicked your heels together impatiently. "stop that! its stressing me out." leahs head popped out to point to your feet as you smiled and continued to do it making her eyes roll.

"leah we need to leave, shift it!" amanda yelled from downstairs as you stood up, the blonde finally stepping out of the bathroom fully dressed. "ready now?" you quirked an eyebrow. "mm not yet, one more thing." leah held up a finger as you sighed, hearing amanda huff from downstairs.

to your surprise your girlfriend grabbed your hands and pulled your body into hers, one hand cradling the back of your neck as the other nudged your chin upwards and her lips captured your own.

"we need to go!" you laughed quietly into the kiss, trying to pull away as leahs grip on the back of your neck tightened. "they can wait thirty more seconds." leah grinned, teeth tugging on your bottom lip teasingly.

but right as it started, the kiss came to an abrupt end as leah pulled some sort of material over your eyes. "come on! god you're always making us so late babe." leah groaned holding her hand out as you adjusted the beanie she'd put on you and rolled your eyes.

"you know being cute only gets you so far williamson."

once at the game you and leah tried to be discreet as you sat down together, not having told either of your families just yet. but with amanda on your right and leah on your left with her aunt and cousins sat behind, it didn't take long.

the two of you were pressed as much into one another as you could be, leahs arm draped over the back of your seat as you leaned into her side and she'd whisper things into your ear every few minutes making you grin or giggle.

your feet would tap and poke against one anothers playing footsie like a couple of children, one of your hands resting on leahs knee, fingers playing absentmindedly with the strands of denim which protruded from the rips in her jeans.

you both missed the amused looks from leahs mum beside you who'd just been waiting for one of you to crack and tell her after she'd unknowingly caught the two of you making out in the living room one afternoon, choosing not to make herself known and rather leaving you both to it.

but as the game continued leahs advances seemed to get bolder, her lips kissing your cheek and forehead with a loud smack as you'd huff and shove her away making her grin and do it over and over again, for once barely paying the match any attention.

"stop! your fingers are freezing." you laughed quietly, wrenching her hand away from where it travelled up your hoodie. "and your stomach is very warm, stop being selfish!" leahs hand crept back up, cold fingers pressing teasingly into your ribs making you squeal and smack her.

"girls." you both looked up as amanda called for you, subtly pushing leahs hand out of your lap. "you know this means no more sleepovers and closed doors under my roof, yes?" amanda smiled as you choked on air and leah hit your back, giving her mum an incredulous look of shock.

"mum!" was all the blonde managed to scoff out in surprise as both of your faces burned bright red.

"what? i gave you lots of opportunities to tell me! you missed your chance love."

~

nowadays, the cold snap still came and your girlfriend still loathed it, but she made sure to take full advantage of all the perks she could squeeze from it.

which is why her arms tightened around your torso as you tried to get up, causing you to smile. "baby?" you spoke softly, running a hand through her blonde her, her face calm and still, eyes squeezed shut. "leaaah!" you sang out slowly, finger tracing gently across her face.

all you received was a huff and a grunt as she rolled over, burying her face in your neck and tangling her legs with yours. "come on i said one more hour and its been two now, get up!" you laughed, tucking a hand up her hoodie and scratching at her back.

"if you wanted me to get up you'd not have started that love." leah sighed happily, shifting herself even closer into you. "don't you dare! give it back." her head popped up and she cracked one eye open with a glare as you retracted your hand.

"doesn't belong to you." you teased with a smile, moving your hands beneath you as leah scoffed. "does too!" leah argued, both eyes open as suddenly she was on top of you. "so does this, and this, and this, and this and-" she peppered kisses all over your face and neck as your laughter filled the room.

"baby its cold and its raining and we both have the day off, just want cuddles." leah flopped back down on top of you, lips curled into a pout as you rolled your eyes playfully.

"fine! one more hour."

that hour again became two and with leah well and truly dead to the world this time you managed to wiggle out of bed, leaving her tucked away in the covers as your body screamed for coffee.

you sighed in relief as the first sip hit your lips, taking a seat at the counter and staring out the window, watching as each raindrop smacked the glass and trailed down carving its own little path.

"what part of i want cuddles did you not understand!" you glanced over your shoulder to see leah with the duvet wrapped around her, hood covering her bed hair and an annoyed scowl on her face.

"what part of one more hour did you not understand?" you smiled teasingly, sipping at your coffee as she rolled her eyes. "is the heat on? im actually freezing." leah mumbled, her body quickly moving to wrap around yours.

"go put another layer on then baby, the heat is on." you chuckled, craning your head back to press a few lazy kisses to her jaw, head resting against her chest. "can't believe you chose coffee over me." leah grumbled.

"well one fuels me and the other drains me so..." you trailed off with a shrug, squealing as suddenly you weren't in your chair anymore, feet off the ground as leah carried you into the living room. "leah!" you laughed as she dropped you onto the sofa and crawled on top of you.

"look! its like our private little kiss cave." the blonde beamed, tugging the duvet over her head to engulf the both of you like a fort as she hungrily kissed you, stealing the air from your lungs as her hands slipped up your hoodie.

"baby your hands are freezing!" "oh really? see my lips are the coldest right now, you would be a terrible girlfriend not to help me warm them up."

[magiccath]

The Doctor's Coat

Tenth Doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which you're not that cold, you just like wearing the Doctor's coat (ft. a bit of Martha) (Based on a request from @internet-stranger-says-hi)

As always, it was supposed to be a relaxing trip. A normal weekend getaway in a fancy hotel. The Doctor felt a bit bad about all the running you had been doing, so he wanted to treat you and Martha. 

But, trouble followed the Doctor, that much you knew. So, frankly, you weren’t that surprised when you ended up running around the massive building fighting off homicidal aliens. At this point, it was just another day for you. As annoying as it could be at times, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Doctor gripped your hand tightly in his as you ran, his fingers firmly intertwined with yours. He was very prone to grabbing your hand at the slightest suggestion of danger, but you seemed oblivious to this. Surely he must do that with everyone, right?

“I’ll hold them off!” Martha called from behind you, going down a separate hall from you and the Doctor. You knew she could more than handle herself, but you still worried. You didn’t like it much when the three of you separated. The Doctor, on the other hand, was more worried about getting you to safety. You were always his first priority. 

He turned a corner sharply, almost ramming into the wall. His dirty old Converse thudded against the garishly patterned carpet as he rushed for the hotel’s kitchen. You struggled to keep up with him, desperately trying not to trip over yourself. 

The Doctor led you through the winding halls at a surprising speed, the walls rushing by in a blur. You weren’t sure where you were, or where you were going. The only thing you did know was the Doctor would get you to safety. He always did.

He dashed through the closest door, casting worried glances over his shoulder. In his rush, he didn’t pay much attention to where you were going. He guided the two of you into a room without really looking inside and shut the door behind him. You were too busy catching your breath to pay much attention either.

“We should be safe in here,” he said reassuringly, peering out of the small window on the door. He still seemed entirely oblivious to your surroundings. 

Your breathing started to steady and you looked around the room. A frost covered the walls and the metal racks, small crystalline structures stuck to anything they could latch onto.

“You put us in a freezer,” you pointed out, starting to feel the chill on your skin. It wasn’t unbearable, just noticeable. 

The Doctor looked around, just now realizing where the two of you had ended up. 

“Well…” he winced, peeking back out again. The kitchen appeared to be empty. 

“We should probably be safe to make a run for it,” he suggested, pacing back and forth. “We could reconvene with Martha and get out of here?” 

“Let’s,” you shivered, the cold starting to penetrate your sweater. The sooner you could get out of here the better.

The Doctor moved to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He yanked it repeatedly and even tried kicking it. He pulled the Sonic Screwdriver out, buzzing around the door. Slowly, he turned back to look at you with a nervous smile.

You’d seen that look many times before. You’d seen it when he left you stranded on Mars on accident, when he crashed the TARDIS into the side of your Grandparent’s house, and when he neglected to tell you he replaced the ship’s toilet with a DIY chemistry lab.

“You locked us in here,” you gasped, throwing your hands up in frustration. 

“I’m sorry,” he winced. You could see on his face how much it upset him. As frustrating as the situation was, you couldn’t bring yourself to get mad at him. You never did, no matter how bad he messed things up.

“It’s ok,” you whispered, shuffling your feet. You could handle a bit of cold, it’s not like the Doctor did it on purpose anyway. 

“Here,” the Doctor said, slipping his coat off, “take this, it should help keep you warm.” 

“What about you?” 

“I don’t get cold,” the Doctor shrugged, pushing the coat into your arms. You stared at it for a moment, surprised to even be holding it. The Doctor’s coat was one of his most prized possessions, even if something just like it could be found in just about every charity shop across London. 

Slowly, you slid your arms through the coat, shrugging it on. The fabric was a well-loved cotton, softened from years of wear and wash. Strangely, it was very warm.

“Better?” The Doctor asked, worried. You wrapped the coat tightly around yourself and smiled, nodding your agreement. 

This was much better, and not because you were a little cold. The coat smelled like the Doctor - exactly like the Doctor. It felt like being hugged by him, and you relished the feeling. You burrowed further into the jacket, closing your eyes blissfully. You could stay like this forever.

“Hey,” The Doctor put his hands on your shoulders, “don’t fall asleep on me,” he urged, figuring that you were much colder than you were. 

“Martha should be around soon and she’ll get us out, I promise,” he reassured, rubbing his hands up and down on your arms to create friction. You peered out from under his coat to look him in the eye. His face was riddled with anxiety, his big brown puppy dog eyes staring at you with worry. 

You blushed a deep red, finding his concern adorable. You really were fine, especially now that you had a coat to keep you toasty. Even if you were cold, you wouldn’t really mind it considering the circumstances. You were wrapped up in the Doctor’s coat as he rubbed your arms lovingly - it was like a dream.

The Doctor misread your blush and assumed that the cold was flushing your face. He moved his hands up to your face, cradling it. He knew his hands weren’t exactly warm, but maybe the contact could keep the cold out. His thumbs rubbed soft, concentric circles into your skin. He traced the words of a language only he knew into your skin, trying anything to comfort you.

“I’ll get you out, it will be ok,” he reassured again. He moved his hands to wrap the coat tighter around your body, pulling the collar up to shield the lower part of your face. “Hang in there for me,” he urged, eyes still pained with anxiety.

You let out a soft shiver, the constant contact making you incredibly flustered. Again, the Doctor misread your responses to his affections. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour, trying to figure out a way to warm you up. If he lost you to frostbite due to his own obliviousness he would never forgive himself.

“Shh,” he hushed, even though you hadn’t said anything. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms again, desperately trying to warm you up. 

“I’m so sorry that I got you into this situation,” he sighed, still rubbing you gently. 

You shook your head quickly, “s’alright.” You would never admit it to him, but you were really enjoying this. Maybe being trapped in a freezer wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“No,” The Doctor shook his head, “it’s really no-”

Suddenly, the door to the freezer opened and Martha popped her head in. “What on Earth are you two doing in here?” She asked, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. The Doctor was known to do weird things, but this had to be high up on the list of strange hiding places. 

“Martha!” The Doctor cried, overjoyed to see her. “Hurry, we need to get them out of here,” he urged, already guiding you out of the freezer. He practically pushed you out, his hands never leaving your body.

“Please check on them, they’re freezing,” he urged, guiding you to a seat. You were perfectly capable of directing yourself, but the Doctor seemed adamant on it. He was babbling incoherently, waving his hands about in distress.

“How long were you in there?” Martha asked, she had split from you less than an hour ago. Surely you couldn’t have caught frostbite in that little time. She leaned down in front of you, her fingers resting against your neck to check your pulse.

“10, maybe 15 minutes?” The Doctor started wringing his hands anxiously. 

After taking your pulse she placed both hands on your face, gauging the temperature of your skin. You were chilly, but nowhere near cold enough to warrant the Doctor’s distress. 

“They’re fine,” Martha shrugged. 

“Are you sure? Check again,” the Doctor begged, his eyes still seeping with anxiety. 

Martha sighed exasperatedly, “I’m sure.” 

Behind her, you turned a deep scarlet. It was embarrassing to watch the whole interaction, but you were too flustered to admit that you really just liked wearing the Doctor’s coat. It was easier to let them argue than admit you had a crush.

“Look!” The Doctor cried, pointing at you, “They’re all flushed! Something has to be wrong.” He fiddled anxiously, bouncing slightly on his feet. Looking at him you’d think you had grown a second head or something terrifying. 

Martha looked over at you, her eyebrows furrowed. You avoided her gaze, picking at your hands absentmindedly in your lap. She quickly picked up on what was happening and rolled her eyes.

“Seriously?” She whispered to you sharply. You pursed your lips, shrugging slightly in response. 

“What’s going on? Is everything ok?” The Doctor asked, growing more worried by the minute. 

“Please tell him, this is getting ridiculous,” Martha groaned, her eyes pleading with you. There was only so much of this she could put up with.

“Tell me what?” The Doctor was hovering now, fiddling anxiously, “is everything alright, what’s wrong?” he asked you this time, moving closer to you. 

“I’m gonna give you a minute,” Martha said, her eyes darting between the two of you. You tried to open your mouth to protest but she was already slipping out the door, leaving you alone with the Doctor.

He crouched before you, his hands resting on your knees, “what’s wrong?” He asked, looking up at you. You could tell he was holding his anxiety back, trying not to let his own worries affect you.

“I’m fine,” you blushed, looking down at the floor. You really didn’t want to admit your feelings for the Doctor, especially like this. You supposed you didn’t have much else of a choice, Martha had made sure of that.

“I-I just,” you whispered, not really wanting the Doctor to hear you, “liked wearing your coat.” 

“You what?” the Doctor gasped, surprised. He wasn’t entirely sure he had heard you right.

“It smells like you,” you mumbled the justification more to yourself than him. 

“You’re not sick?” He asked, clearly more worried about your health than your confession. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” you let out a small chuckle, “nothing to worry about here.” 

“You’re not cold?” 

You shook your head, you were far from cold now. In fact, the anxiety was making you sweat.

“You just liked wearing my coat?” He clarified eyebrows furrowed as his brain struggled to keep up. Could this mean you liked him? He tried not to get his hopes too high.

Embarrassed, you nodded your head meekly. God, this was awful. You wanted nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“Is that so?” He laughed, a cocky smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Oh shush,” you scolded, hitting his arm lightly. Of course, he found this amusing.

He smiled softly at you, his eyes softening as he realized you were going to be ok. Better than ok. He brought his hand up to your face, cradling your cheek in his soft hand.

“Are you trying to say you have a crush on me?” He smiled inquisitively. 

Your eyes widened, your face turning the deepest red it had been since getting into the freezer. Perhaps he wasn’t as oblivious as you thought.

“Maybe,” you whispered, it’s not like you could really hide it anymore. The Doctor’s face immediately lit up, a large grin taking over his entire face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you frowned, confused by his sudden excitement. He should be upset, kicking you out of the TARDIS, or making excuses for reasons he couldn’t love you back. Instead, he was still sitting there looking at you with that stupid grin. It was impossible to fight back the small smile tugging at your lips when he was looking at you like that. 

“What if I told you I had a crush on you too?” He whispered mischievously, his eyes twinkling with excitement. 

You stiffened, shocked by his admission. “If you’re having a joke I’m gonna throw you into an exploding star.” 

The Doctor chuckled, the sound dancing around the room. “No, I’m not.” 

“You really fancy me?” 

“How could I not?” He hummed, stroking your cheek gently. You were stunning. You were always stunning to him, no matter the conditions.

The Doctor leaned closer to you, hoving slightly over your lips. His warm breath fanned your face, sending shivers down your spine. He stayed there for a moment, giving you plenty of time to pull back. When you didn’t, he brought his lips gently into yours. 

He kissed you like you were his entire world, his hand still holding your face. He was soft and gentle, but incredibly loving. You melted against him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him closer to you.

Martha silently poked her head in the door to check on you, just in case. She sighed when she saw the two of you in a tight embrace, closing the door to go handle the alien invasion on her own. 

[peachesofteal]

Happy Hunting

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Consensual non consent. Explicit sex, creampie. Predator/prey, hunter/hunted. Use of restraints, a gag. Blood, violence. Dirty talk, size kink, praise kink. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Horror-ish. Horror media references/influenced. Tags are for your health, not mine. “Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance." - Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

It was the porch light, that cost you everything.

The porch light that flickered through the brush with strokes of silver moonlight, the porch light that cast a wan, yellowed haze out from its warped wooden and stone host. The porch light, that shone like a lighthouse, calling you home, calling you to safety, security. To sanctuary. 

You spotted it from a distance the first day, once you had already changed course that morning, tromping across a stream and shimmying through a nasty spool of barbed wire. You hunkered down next to an outcropping of rock, peering through the morning fog, searching for your hunter, watching for the tell tale signs of his presence, a wide path cut through the forest by his broad body, punctuated by trampled underbrush, damaged petals and leaves. The house stood on the hill in the distance, rising just above the tree line, the shimmer of the little yellow light drawing you in, making you curious, filling you with an urge to look closer, as the hair on the back of your neck rose in warning. 

The rocks were a perfect natural shelter, a good place to take a nap, if you wanted, if you could. It would be easy to bed down in the soft dead-fall of the leaves, sink into the earth, into the heavy mist that had lingered past dawn, but you couldn’t risk closing your eyes. Not even for a second. Not when you knew he was so close, when you could hear his breath, feel the pads of his fingers on your skin, reaching, stretching, desperate to snatch you away forever. If you held your body still, you swore you could feel the vibration of his feet in the forest, rustling against the brush, covertly honing in on your location, stalking closer and closer to his target. His victory. 

Even if you never saw him, you knew he was out there, watching patiently. Waiting for you to make a mistake, for you to miscalculate. 

You told yourself the house was not an option. Even when you got a good look at it on that first day, something about it stuck low in your belly, an off feeling, a warning. You opted to circumvent the entire thing, giving the long overgrown driveway, endlessly black windows and snarled thicket that grew thick at its foundation a wide berth. 

Old stone mansions left abandoned, remnants of old families, old money left to rot, were not unheard of in this area. You had spent your youth crawling around in them and knew them well, knew their warning signs, understood what it felt like when they might give way on you. You knew how to unlock their secrets, knew how to read the gothic stories that had settled into the crumbling, peeling wallpaper. They spoke their own languages, histories spiraling out from their nooks and crannies, trauma and laughter etched into the joists and support beams, sagging with the weight of their own age. They could be easy to read, easy to listen to, if you knew which doors to pry open, and which to leave locked shut. 

Still, it was too convenient. Too much of a risk. Too much confinement. There was a zero chance of you besting him in a physical fight, and you had to depend on your speed for survival, your aptitude, your skill to ensure your success. Pigeonholing yourself in a mansion with god knows what inside did not allow you to excel at the things you were good at.

You felt confident in your decision to avoid the house. You felt good about it.

The storm rolled in with tenacity. The rain was frigid, wind howling through to your bones, chilling the blood that pumped in your heart. It's strength pulled at your resolved, ready to tear you to pieces, to force you to your knees. It pushed you off course, away from the rushing water of the creek, and up the hill of water soaked leaves. 

You lost your bearings for a moment, and that’s all it took for you to slip up, all that was needed for you to catch the sight of his grim shadow from the corner of your eye, the crack of a branch breaking beneath his boot shattering across your brain like a gunshot. 

You tore through the woods, gait bogged down by the water logged earth, by the thick of the mud, chased by the sound of his voice, calling for you through the forest over the raging fury of the storm. 

"Happy hunting, little dove." 

You narrowly escaped, but the skull mask watched. He waited. He tracked. 

He hunted. 

It’s too dark.

Too dark to see anything, too dark to see your hands that are spread out in front of your body, hands that desperately try to act as your eyes, feeling, touching, scraping across surfaces to keep you from bumping into things. Doors. Walls. Whatever could be lying in wait here.

The weight of your wet clothing irks you. It hangs heavily on your body, and you wish you had chosen better layers, shivers working up and down your spine, goosebumps rising against the soaked chill of your shirt. It could be pneumonia that gets you in the end, if he doesn't catch you first, you muse bitterly, wringing yourself out as well as you can, water droplets pattering against what you believe sounds like a wooden floor. 

The lack of light is unnerving. You'd expected it, knew the chances of there being anything working in here slim, but you still hoped that maybe the lone flickering porch light meant there was something still left inside these old bones, a spark, a connection feeding a light switch or a lamp somewhere. The dark of the house is endless, and your mind works quickly to imagine the worst case scenarios, the potential that this tenebrous pitch may drag you below forever settling heavily in the back of your mind. It's deep, the darkness of the house, like you could fall into it and drown, never resurfacing, never to see the sun again. You move slowly, hands in front of your face, body and feet making contact with as much of the wall as you can, trying to paint a picture with touch. The dark, combined with the new and unfamiliar territory, is enough to unsettle your usual steady demeanor. 

The combination is a lethal one. It’s one that leaves you hesitant. Unsure. It’s one that keeps you off balance, spine ram rod straight, nerves alight with fear. 

It wasn’t so bad, in the woods. The silver glow of the moon illuminated the lay of the forest, sprawling swaths of brush and low growing thistle, tall trunks that stretched to the sky, stout shrubs with thorns that scratched at your clothes. That was easier, than this. 

Easier than this maze called a house. Easier than these hallways that morphed into a labyrinth that stretched for miles and miles, twisting together into a Fibonacci sequence of pitch-dark terror.

No. You swallow. You’re not afraid. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine. You're going to win. 

But even as you repeat it to yourself, even as you coach your reserve, you can hear his voice. Can hear the grit and gravel of the Manchester accent, can smell his skin against yours, lips rough on your mouth before your cheeks were pinched between a thumb and forefinger.

“Want to play a game?” 

You work forward in a half crouch, staying pressed to the wall, form as tight as you can manage, unobtrusive. Your hand stays projected in front of your body, the other along the wall, waiting to feel an angle, an edge, a door, a window… anything.

You shouldn’t have come in here. You walked right into a trap, you're sure of it now, fairly positive after feeling the way the corridor twists and turns away from the front. Walked right into a confined space and now you’re lost, stuck, like a fly in a web. Waiting to be devoured. Waiting for your end to be delivered by a spider who lurks just out of sight.

But you did it for a reason, didn’t you?

You’re so, so close to the finish line. So close you can taste it, the trepidation beading into sweat that drips down your back, cold and unwelcome against the damp of your shirt. It’s already been two days. The morning of the third day is just on the horizon, sun due to come up, you think, within a few hours. Your mouth salivates at the thought of it, the idea of sinking your teeth into sweet, sweet victory. Of winning. Of beating him. 

You take a moment to stop and reassess, swiping your palms along the wall and floor, working on controlling your breathing. It’s becoming jagged, anxiety spilling out through your lungs with each step you take, fear moving through you like ice freezing in your veins, creeks and streams being lost to the winter’s chill, a disease slowly spreading towards your heart.

You use it to focus. You cannot see, but that doesn’t mean you've lost, and it doesn't make you weak. It makes all your senses stronger, your hearing, your ability to smell, your translation of touch into sight. The wall turns here, the floor dips there, does that feel like a ledge? You crawl in your crouch, lips sealed tight against soft whimpers that threaten to expose you over the little pieces of wood that get lodged in your palms.

Splinters. Unfinished lumber.

It confirms your theory. The mansion itself is old, stuck up on this plot land, nestled in the thick of the forest, abandoned, nearly completely forgotten about by all… save for one. One, who’s been building inside of it, one who’s been creating in its guts. Hollowing it out and remaking it into something new, a hellscape of hallways, a complicated vision executed by someone who’s running from the same demons, the same nightmares that you are.

Your heart sinks past your stomach, down into your knees. Continuing to run this rat race is foolish. He built it. He knows it. He pushed you here, urged you over the hill, across the stream, beneath the barbed wire. He dictated your path, forcing you into the light of the porch, herding you closer and closer because he knew. He knew you wouldn't be able to resist it, in the end. He knew you. 

Find a different part of the house. Escape. Hide, until sunrise. 

You keep going, carefully, creeping along the walls, navigating lefts and rights and forks in the labyrinth until your fingers tap silently across an empty door frame, nothing on the other side except the continuous black void of darkness.

Your feet slide forward, boots sliding until the floor disappears. A drop off? There’s more, a flush piece, a curved groove.

Stairs.

You blink, even though it will do you no good, it won’t clear your vision or make the lights in this decrepit place suddenly flicker on. Your hands are your sight, and you run your fingers along the curve of the top step, until you feel the next, and the next.

You take them half on your belly, half on your knees. It’s slow, achingly so, and puts you in a vulnerable position, but the fall, if there were to be one, would be much, much worse if you risked attempting them fully standing. It takes forever to get to the bottom, and you feel a small tug of relief when your palms rub across a cold concrete floor. 

There’s a noise. It’s a banging, of sorts. Like a door swinging, and you jolt, reaction fueled by adrenaline, barreling forward into the dark, slamming into the wall with your hip. It stings, the slap of concrete zinging across your skin and you hiss instinctively, before clapping a hand over your face to muffle the sound.

You curse yourself. That was too loud. 

A floorboard creaks above your head. The acid in your stomach rises.

You hold yourself as still as you can, palm still pressed over your mouth, body bent low. You keep contact with the wall as much as possible, shoulder, thigh, part of your back. Stay low. Stay small. It’s an advantage you have, your size versus his. Even if you aren’t particularly petite, you’re nimble, graceful and quick. Something you’ve been using for the past two days to stay one step ahead, something you used earlier to orchestrate your narrow escape in the woods. You use it now, to find a corner, a little nook of rough cement, and squeeze your body inside.

Heavy feet take the stairs slowly, step by step until you see the bright white beam of a flashlight sweeping across the floor methodically, back and forth, back and forth. It moves across the room, around the stairs, opposite of the corner you think you’ve tucked yourself into.

Just hold your breath. Stay quiet. You can still win. You can still make it. 

The flashlight flicks off with a dramatic click. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip so hard it draws blood.

Maybe he didn’t see you. Maybe he doesn’t know you’re even here. 

Seconds drag into minutes, and you think you hear heavy footfalls upstairs. Or possibly on the stairs. You can’t be too sure. It’s too dark, and the pitch is disorientating. It’s hard to tell right side up, up from down.

This could be heaven. It could be hell.

You stay burrowed in that corner against the cinderblock for what you believe must be at least fifteen minutes, if not longer. Your body aches from being pushed in on itself, and you blink in the dark, breathing slower than a corpse, listening. Waiting.

Your boot slides across the concrete. Seeking. Touching… bumping into solid mass. You realize it a second too late. Time freezes, and you with it, heart encased in ice. Your eyes slam shut, and a whimper builds in the back of your throat.  

A hand wraps around your ankle, and you screech, curling forward with your fingers bent like talons, flying towards what you hope is his face, desperate to sink your nails into his skin and tear, rip him open so you can get away. He grabs your arm, stabilizing your contact, the strength in his grip that of more than two men, at least, and drags you across the floor, iron bar of his ulna holding you still and steady.

A piece of metal scratches against wood. A flick, a flicker, and then-

A wash of orange-yellow light. You’ve been in the dark for hours at this point, and your sight struggles to refract, pulling back behind half shut lids even though the light itself is not that bright.

You tilt your head back and look up.

String lights. He’s hung string lights up down here, little bulbs on black wire stapled to the rafters like you’re in some romantic comedy. Like there should be a two top table here with a pile of spaghetti and meatballs, carafe of wine and checkered tablecloth.

“Hung these just for you, dove. Knew you’d like ‘em.” His breath is burning hot against your face, and you twist, swinging your entire skull into his chest and trying to dig your heels into the ground for leverage. You catch a glimpse of his face, maskless, the twice-healed broken nose, cheek scar and sharp edged jaw unmistakable, even with your fogged vision. 

“Get OFF me you FUCKING FREAK, I-“ His thigh presses against your knee and then you’re swooping, thrown off balance in a second thought with a scream, free hand ripping across into his hair and yanking with everything you have.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t flinch, wrestling you to the ground with ease. You don’t have much fight left in you, after two days of hiding, running, trying to be smarter, be faster, and you’re spent on all ends, this last little spat the end of everything you had. He knows it.

Still, when he fish hooks his thumb into between your lips, you bite down with all your might, sinking your incisors into his skin in hopes of drawing blood.

He laughs, and your mouth fills with the mineral-metallic liquid, his thumb swirling inside your teeth and across your gums. 

You know you’re well and truly fucked.

The knife makes quick work of your shirt. Your tac pants, the good pair, go next, along with your boots. He lurks above for you a long moment before he cuts your bra away, your nipples tightening in reaction to the temperature, to everything that’s happening in this moment, in this basement.

“Gave me the slip in the woods earlier, little dove. Very clever.” He praises you, bending your arms behind your back and then working a rope around your wrists, knotting it securely, but not too tight. “Almost made it. Think you might’ve, if you hadn’t come in ‘ere.” Your underwear rips away without pretense, without hesitation and you swallow, mouth gaping wide, teeth trying to cut over the gag. “But I know why you did. I know you wanted to get caught.” You shake your heard furiously, and he clucks his tongue in mock sympathy, soothing a warm hand up and down the outside of your thigh. “Come on dove, let me see.” He pries your legs apart, baring you wide, where you drip for him, slick with arousal, with heat. He hums something to himself; two blunt fingers stroking down your seam and then back up around your swollen clit. You buzz with his touch, muscles reacting on their own, spine curving just a little, hips twitching. He stays there, on his knees between your thighs, an immovable force, keeping you from closing up around him or blocking his touch, and his thumb rubs your clit in a circle. “What a good girl. Gettin’ all wet for me.” You shake your head, and he tips his head back and laughs. “Don’t lie. Pretty little cunt here loved bein’ hunted, eh? Look at how soaked she is. Practically dripping.” He presses a finger inside, the depth of his reach enough to punch your lungs out, body seizing up around him as he strokes upwards, thumb slicking across your clit until you're writing underneath him. You’re going to cum, you’re going to cum on this dirty fucking floor like a- “Ah, ah. You know the rules.” He rasps next to your ear. “What do you need to do?”

“Nnrgh!” you spit through the cloth, and he sighs long and loud, like he’s emptying himself of all his breath with exasperation, fingers smearing your own fluids over your face as he pulls it free. “Please.” You gasp. It’s barely a plea, something more venomous, more spiteful, but it’s enough for him, and he nods, placing the fabric back into your mouth with a pop of his wrist. You don’t want to, you don’t want to give in, let him win, let him have this, make it so easy but he's playing your body so well, expertly, making you sing for him from behind the gag, and you cannot stop the tidal wave that swims over you, your orgasm breaking you apart, smug grin scrawled across his face with pleasure. 

When he takes his cock out, dragging his briefs and pants beneath his hips, all while keeping a single hand pressed to your belly, your eyes widen. He’s huge, thick with a fat red tip, dribbles of pre cum leaking above where he’s got you splayed open. He’s going to tear your apart. 

“You put up such a good fight, dove. Made me wait so long, hid so well.” The heat of his cock sears against your thigh, and you grunt, brows furrowed, mouth dry behind the gag. Your tongue pushes against it helplessly, fingers fisted tight in the binding beneath your lower back. It’s not particularly comfortable, but the position bares your breasts to him, and keeps you off balance enough that he can manipulate you as he sees fit. “But you still lost.” The gleam in his eye is wild, wicked enough to make your toes curl, hair on the back of your neck standing straight up. Is this a man? Or a monster? Or both?

He presses inside and you see stars, you see the whites of your own eyes, see the currents of electricity in the air. It hurts, a gnawing bite that spreads to your cervix, magma spilling forward and scorching along your walls. He doesn’t slow either, doesn’t stop, just thrusts all the way through, deeper and deeper, splitting you open on his cock just how he likes. 

“Ffuumph-“ You moan, and a plate sized palm pats your face soothingly, your knees pinned back towards your ears, his chest against yours. He knows it hurts. Knows it stings, his hips stuttering with his strokes, tongue hot against your neck, mopping up the tears that leak from the corner of your eyes.

“I know, I know. Be good." He licks your cheek before taking it between his teeth, and you keen, clenching around him the heat of his cock without a thought. It’s wild, and violent, like you’re being ripped open raw, torn apart by the weight of the end of it all, the consequences of your loss, of getting caught. “Is this is what you needed? What you begged me for-“ You sputter a refusal, a wail of nonsense but there’s no denial of your body’s reaction, the way you tighten around him, the way your body goes gooey for him, cunt glossy with it.

He thumbs your clit, and you moan, half agonized, half delirious, stuffed full, neurons firing across your brain, cunt spasming in time with his thrusts. "So proud of you. Did so good, dove." Your back arches involuntarily, legs trying to snap closed, burn in your belly growing and growing to a precipice, a reckless edge that you know you’re going to be thrown over in a matter of seconds. He reads it, reads you, and plucks the gag free, swooping low to replace it with his mouth, holding your jaw steady, the kiss long and lingering. He gives you more and more, spearing you with his cock, dragging in and out of your pulsing cunt, cooing in your ear over the sound of your moans. "That's it, that's my girl. There you go, come- come on." Your muscles tense and you explode with an orgasm, body melting with a shudder. You turn to liquid, practically putty, all soft and malleable in his arms and he fucks you deep, frantically, chasing after his own release, dragging his nose into your hair with a groan of something unintelligible. You're still clenching around him, wired tight, little explosions of fireworks reverberating through your cunt as he takes his victory, notching himself to the very depth of your body and flooding you with come.

 

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist it. The house.” His arms cradle your limp body, nose skimming up your jaw.  

“It was a nice touch.” The words come out as a yawn, stretched out and spent, like your body. Like your mind. Just how you like it.

“You lost, dove.” He murmurs and you nod pathetically. “Want to try again?” He works his touch in the wet mess between your legs, flicking through his own come, your slick and you mewl in his palm.

“Yes."  

“I think I should get more of a head start this time.” Simon raises an eyebrow, a shadow of greed, of hunger arcing across his irises before his arm is curling around your back and pulling you into his chest. 

“Don’t I usually give you enough of a head start, love?” 

“You do, but… Si. Come on. It’s hardly fair.” 

“You’re faster than me.” Lips press tenderly against your temple. “Beat me every time in a foot race. Besides, I have something… for you. A gift.” Your head spins when you think about that word, gift. It frightens you. It electrifies you. 

“I know but… I want to build it up a little more.” Still, you have to protest a little. You want a longer chase. Need it. Crave it. 

“Alright.” He concedes, head tilting to the side, eyes half lidded. “And the prep-“ 

“Not too much.” You tip back your glass of wine, drop of red leaking from the corner of your lips, tannins blooming across your tongue as he laps it up. “I want it to hurt.” You murmur it into his mouth, rolling the rich liquid from behind your teeth until he’s working you open and it spills forward, drowning the two of you in red cherry and oak until you’re falling to the floor, and he’s kissing your breastbone with a whisper. 

“Okay, dove. Not too much.”

[cinnamostar]

blankets and kisses

pairing : chan x gn!reader

summary : the bitter iciness of winter wore you down, yet your boyfriend knew how to melt away your sorrows

wc : 913

cw : alludes to seasonal depression, established relationship, comforting bf chan, fluffy, not proof read

a/n : this was entirely self indulgent LMAO sorry if formatting is bad though, im on my phone and wrote this kinda quickly bc i felt inspired hehe . also im floridian so i know nothing abt snow or winter so i did my best

in the hushed whispers of the night, you found yourself yearning his comforting embrace, a closeness you always craved and yearned for. the chilling zephyrs brushing against your skin, your hair bellowing in response as you shiver under the icy winds the harsh winter always brought in its company.

you couldn’t bear this season alone, it was taxing to repeat the same mundanity and solitude adulthood had introduced you to. daylight was always so fleeting and witnessing it had become a luxury during these cold months.

it was always the same deep blue morning sky that greeted you as you made your way to work, and after eight grueling hours, the same sky would be waiting to be welcome you once more, except this time with the sun rays barely peeking out from the edge of the sky. you hated this time of year, and you could never understand the holiday joy and excitement everyone seemed to buzzing with around you. what was there to enjoy?

the weather was unpleasant, the low temperatures of the world pricking the tip of your nose as you briskly made your way home, trudging your way through the light sheets of snow that covered the sidewalks. the glacial breeze never relented its attacks on you, always piercing through the layers of warmth you adorned yourself with.

the lack of sunlight allowed dreary, dark clouds take over your mind as you surrendered yourself to exhaustion. how much longer would your days be like this? how much longer would the wintry season plague your mind with somber thoughts?

you crack for the door open to your shared apartment, basking in its inviting warmth that provided you refuge from the world you had just shut behind you. the comforting smell of fresh linen making its presence known as a grateful smile graces your features. you gently place your bag on the small side table, shedding the layers of coats you had worn to endure freezing winds, not caring that they’d remain on the floor.

your mind was too focused on finding solace and reprieve to worry about your belongings as your feet dragged you to your living room. your own personal source sunshine that kept your afloat during these difficult times was waiting for you on the sofa, his head turning to your direction once he heard the pitter patter of your steps.

a smile stretches across his face, his eyes becoming crescents as he lifts himself off the couch to meet you half way.

“hi baby,” chan whispers as his arms envelope you, a chaste kiss landing on your forehead, melting away the restricting stiffness the icy winds had diseased you with. the tension in your muscles loosen under his summery touch, your mind relaxing knowing you had found safety in his arms once again.

“hi,” was all you could muster out, your sleepiness catching up to you as your heavy eyelids flutter shut, snuggling your head into his chest, taking in the comforting thumping of his heartbeat.

chan’s hand found itself resting atop your head, his other drawing gentle circles on your back, “i warmed up some blankets for us to cuddle up in,” he spoke, “i think you deserve some rest.” he knew this time of year was suffocating for you and without fail, he found ways to bring light and warmth into your gloomy world, whether it was through gentle words or acts of love, he was the healing your ailing mind needed.

his words were soothing to your worn-down soul, a small smile appearing on your face as you peer into his eyes, chin resting on his chest. “that sounds so nice, thank you, chan,” you feebly mutter.

without skipping a beat, chan swiftly lifts you up, carrying you to your bedroom as a hearty giggle escapes him, you squealing at the unexpected action. he softly drops you atop the bed, the sheets rippling under the sudden weight as you lost yourself to a fit a giggles, blood rushing to your face as you succumbed to the bustling butterflies that made themselves home in your stomach. chan lays himself next to you, hastily pulling a toasty blanket over your bodies. his arms pull you into him, your body fitting snuggly into his as his leg rests over yours. he cups your face with one hand as his lovingly gazes into your eyes, his eyes sparkling with adoration as he drank in every detail before peppering your face with kisses.

airy laughs continue to leave both of you, overwhelming you as each kiss tickles your flustered skin, leaving burning warmth and desire behind each kiss as your eyes squeeze shut. after bearing his feverish affection, he then places one last, languid kiss on your lips, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, beaming at your dazed state.

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, chan.”

despite the brutal winter season that sapped the happiness out of you, as long as you had chan by your side, you knew you’d be able to uncover the joyful glee everyone else seemed to have. his very presence shooed away the heavy snow clouds that darkened your thoughts, rays of sunshine peaking out to thaw out the icy shell that encased your heart, reminding you that this too shall pass. somehow, in the midst of harsh snowstorms, he was a blooming flower that emanated infectious jubilation, and you were blessed to be able to bask underneath it.

[highvern]

Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes)

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive, idiots in love, they’re both big ol’ chickens

Warnings: drinking

Length: ~1k

Note: idiots to lovers is my favorite trope :) I might write some drabbles based on this pair in the future

Sequel: Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) II

Related Drabbles:

Pre-Drunk Goggles (in order): Peaches [f], Bite the Bullet [f, h], Jealousy [a, h]

Post-Drunk Goggles (in order): Silk [s], Aphrodite [f, s], Discovery [s], Lucky Me [f], adamas et aurum [f], Baby Blues [f]

“You’re cute.” You giggle, dragging out the last syllable in a whine.

Mingyu’s blood freezes, caught between wanting to feed into your drunken stupor and wanting to push you off completely. You’re too close. The smell of your shampoo and perfume clouding his nose, palm burning against the muscle of his chest, teasing smile and hooded gaze drawing him in. The booth in the corner of the packed club was a godsend after hours of dancing and drinking but now Mingyu thinks it might be the place where he dies from cardiac arrest.

You two had been friends for years but lately your relationship toed the line. The friendly dynamic shifted at some point, subtle at the time but echoing loud and clear now. Like a stream changed into rapids before you noticed, sucking one in and swallowing them whole. Lingering touches gave way to heated gazes; tension palpable but never acknowledged. And because neither of you said anything, nothing ever happened; one person always retreating before reaching the point of no return.

Of course the first time you admit any sort of attraction to him is when you’re three sheets to the wind and can barely stand straight. Mingyu himself is no better, mind fogged with the liquor pumping through his veins courtesy of the shots Soonyoung kept distributing. Mingyu can’t speak, tongue dry from the words dying in his throat. All he can see, smell, and feel is you; pressed against him in a way that is less than friendly.

You don’t even bother to conceal the way your eyes are trained on Mingyu’s mouth, mind far away. All your thoughts focus on if his lips are as soft as they look. If you kissed him right now, would he kiss you back? Would he let you touch him? Would he touch you?

Mingyu watches with baited breath as you lean infinitesimally closer, eyes sliding shut, chin lifting slightly. But you’re drunk, and the grace you think you possess left the building long ago. You end up collapsing face first into Mingyu’s neck, lips sliding against the hot skin causing the muscles underneath to jump in surprise. You’ve already accepted the change of direction, now content to take a rest in the crook of his shoulder as the thud of music lulls you closer to sleep.

“W—“ Mingyu clears his throat, “we should go.”

You hum in agreement but make no effort to move away.

“Y/N, baby,” he shakes you gently, “let’s go home.”

With Herculean effort, and gentle prodding from your best friend, you leave the safety and warmth of Mingyu’s body to shimmy out of the booth. When Mingyu gets up after you, he places his hand to the small of your back to guide you to the exit.

Once outside, you wrap around each other again, like magnets that can’t be pulled apart. The sudden chill of midnight air has you turning back into his chest, the arm previously on your back curling low on your waist. Mingyu uses his free hand to order an Uber, resting his chin on your head while the app loads.

“We didn’t say bye to everyone.” You mumble into his T-shirt.

“They’ll be fine.” Mingyu laughs, focusing on his phone.

“You said that last time and Chan still called at 3am to ask if we got home safe.”

We. The simple word has Mingyu’s ears turning red. We, like you’re a couple. We, like you're going home to an apartment you share rather than the one you live alone in and he finds himself crashing at more and more frequently. He brushes off the thought, choosing to focus on getting a car as soon a possible.

Not one to be ignored, you turn your gaze upwards, chin now resting against Mingyu’s sternum. The shift breaks his attention from his phone and he looks down his nose at you.

“Just text the group, pretty sure a few of them left already anyway.” He dares to drop a quick kiss to your furrowing brow, pleased when it relaxes under his lips.

“Ubers here.” Mingyu steps back, snagging your hand to pull you behind him.

The ride home is a blur. The heat of Mingyu’s arm under your cheek and the way his fingers play with yours on his lap keep you from falling asleep completely but you remain in the hypnotic state between wakefulness and dreams. Here you can pretend Mingyu is your doting boyfriend, that all the sweet drunk kisses and daring touches have a deeper meaning.

When you feel the car slow to a stop you open your eyes to the driver pulling up to the curb in front of your apartment. Mingyu is gently ushering you out of the backseat and into the warmth of the lobby as quickly as possible.

While waiting for the elevator, you invade his space once more. In your mind, the need for warmth is the perfect excuse to disregard the usual touching limit you impose on yourself. It’s easy to get addicted to having Mingyu like this and you dread the hurt that’ll come if you let yourself be too greedy. But tonight, you let your arms wrap around his waist once again and fall into him.

When the elevator chimes its arrival, Mingyu tries to keep your bodies intertwined and walk you backwards into the compartment. He stumbles the entire way, having to balance for two since you’re barely trying to hold yourself up. All you can do is whine at him to be more careful and he does everything he can not to crowd you against the wall and kiss you until you’re both gasping for air.

More stumbles, more giggles, and a crushed foot later, you finally make it into your apartment. Shoes discarded at the door, you pull Mingyu down the hall to your room. You change into your pajamas in silence, an oversized T-shirt for you (Mingyu doesn’t comment on the fact that it looks suspiciously like the one he noticed missing weeks ago), and a pair of sweat shorts for him (you don’t comment on how his bare chest is giving you less than friendly thoughts). As you both dive under the covers, moving to settle yourselves amongst the soft sheets, sleep rushes to takeover.

You’re mumbling something against Mingyu’s chest that he can’t quite decipher but the movement of your lips on his bare skin makes his heart lurch and his stomach twist in knots. However, it's the gentle kiss you leave on his collarbone before drifting into your dreams that leaves his mind in a tailspin.

Tomorrow. He thinks. He’ll tell you everything he’s feeling tomorrow.