Latest Posts by nattiesangel - Page 3

this shit is so cute

Elementary Masterlist

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

series rating: E (minors DNI, 18+ only, single dad!joel, smut to come)

summary: You’re Sarah’s fifth grade teacher, and after meeting her father at a parent/teacher conference, you find yourself developing a strong interest and affection for the two struggling Millers.

chapters marked with * indicate explicit content. minors DNI.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three*

Chapter Four*

Chapter Five*

Chapter Six*

drabble: the bakesale*

drabble: out of my depth

Chapter Seven*

drabble: the night out

Chapter Eight*

drabble: the perfect fit

drabble: the distraction*

drabble: a hard day

drabble: winter break

Chapter Nine*

drabble: a helping hand

drabble: dad duty

drabble: christmas 2006

Finale*

drabble: the gift

drabble: the show of appreciation*

drabble: the ranch*

FUCK. OH MY FUCKING GOD

I’m a rude bitch, what are you made of?

Naomi Lapaglia (Wolf of Wall Street) x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, canon-typical arguing, unhealthy husband-wife relationship, cheating, top!naomi and bottom!reader, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, inappropriate relationship with employers, unsolicited flirting, flashing, implied exhibitionism

Word Count: 3,225

so what if you were the belfort’s house keeper? and what if you had this nasty crush on naomi? and what if she knew?

Keep reading

keso if u see this DONT JUDGE.

Yandere Barbie Headcanons

Posted: 07/26/23

Title: Yandere Barbie Headcanons

Yandere Barbie x GN Reader

Word Count: 1007

Barbie Story List/ Master List/ Requests Here

Warnings: yandere, NSFW, NON-CON, kidnapping

🔞18+ page due to dark and adult themes. Minors will be blocked 🔞

Love the thought of her going yandere for the human who plays with her.

Protective and possessive.

You're her human, and she's your Barbie

She believes that because she loves you so much, then you must love her just as much. After all, weird Barbie did tell her that Barbies reflect their humans.

She "escapes" Barbieland to be with you.

"I have to find them! It's I'm miss something inside me and I think my human will be able to fix it! They'll make me all better."

"Ken...Ken!" He snaps his attention to her, pulling him away from the conversation he was having with you. "Take like 5 steps back." She demands of him. He smiles brightly. "Of course, Barbie." He takes the five steps. She scrunched her nose, unsatisfied. "Five more." He smiles like a dumb puppy doing a trick. "Of course, Barbie." Again, she demands five steps after five steps till he's across the street. "That's better." She says, wrapping her arms around you and then rubbing her nose against your cheek. You huffed as Ken gives you an innocent thumbs up.

If you accept her love, it is because she is reflecting your feelings. You grew up with a crush on Barbie and always wanted to be with a stronger, smart, and feminine woman like her.

It's never girl's night anymore. It's always a sleepover with you.

Accepting her love means she'll become human for you and live in the real world.

Vacations to Barbieland. She lowkey tries to flex her stuff to you.

She gives you the best makeovers.

You are not friends with Ken because she won't let you. If he didn't have a crush on her, then maybe she would feel differently, but she's not risking anything coming between you two.

"We should get married!" She announced excitedly after about two months of dating. "I don't know, Barbie. It's kinda soon..." She rolls her eyes. "So? I was made for you, remember? This could never go wrong!" You think for a moment before agreeing. "Yay!! But we have to have it in Barbie land because this day has to be perfect!" She begins to pace around. "I'll have a ball gown dress with pastel pink highlights and sparks! Oh! And pink flowers... and a pink altar-" You cut her. "So an all-pink sparkly wedding?" She looks at you with an awed expression. "That's a great idea!"

If you reject her love,

"For the last time! Go back to Barbieland because I don't love you!" You yell at Barbie. She goes quiet and begins to cry. "Of course you love me... I'm our Barbie. I reflect you..." She learns the hard way that she didn't get her crazy love from you. Perhaps it's just a malfunction.

She doesn't like your world, so she'll kidnap you with Ken's help. Then bring you back to Barbieland.

Ken helps Barbie push your unconscious body around on rollerblades. "You know this is like couple bonding." She gives him a look. "I can't bond with them if they're unconscious, Ken." His smile twitches as he makes sure you don't fall off the snowmobile. "I meant us because we're-" she cuts him off pissed. "Shut up, Ken!"

Imagine waking up on her bed with pink shibari binding you and a hot pink heart gag in your mouth. "Good morning!" Barbie waltzed into her room. "Mmh!" She holds a hand over her heart. "Aww. I love you too!"

She doesn't really feel like she needs to keep you tied up because she thinks that once you see how perfect Barbieland is you'll love it.

She was incredibly confused when you started running around screaming for help. You beg the other Barbies and Ken's, but they don't help. How could they when they don't even know what kidnapped means? "Barbie!" Stereotypical Barbie smiles at President Barbie. "Yes, madam, President?" She asks while you continue to run around screaming and crying on the beach. "You MUST do something about your reckless human! They're disturbing the peace of our town." Your Barbie was quick to nod. "I understand. I just thought if they saw how wonderful Barbieland is, they wouldn't be so scared." President Barbie thinks for a moment. "You think humans would be used to change... well, for the time being, please keep them to your home once they are more well adjusted, you may integrate them into our society. Understand?" Barbie smiles. "Yes, madam, President."

Because Barbie doesn't have genitalia she can't technically have sex with you. However, as she learns more about humans she learns that there are ways to give pleasure to a partner or receive pleasure without genital being involved.

As soon as she learns about making out, she's all over you. "Stay still!" She huffed, trying to hold your face in place.

Barbie also hasn't learned about the consent that goes along with these activities. There, for you, give a lot of unwanted attention from her or borderline rape. She'll undress you to "learn" or "explore" your human anatomy. When she discovered what oral sex is, she does a LOT of "exploring".

Don't forget there aren't many walls to Barbies house. So all the other Barbies and Ken can have and will get an eyeful of what goes on in her bedroom. Not that Barbie minds. She may even have to tied up teasing you with a vibe on your genitalia while casually talking to her neighbor Barbie.

"Mhm!" You sobbed into the heart-shaped gaged begging to cum. Barbie sigh. "Hold on a moment." She politely says to her neighbor. "Oh, take your time." They responded before your Barbie turns to you. "Honey, I know you're excited, but please, I'm in the middle of a conversation. It's rude to interrupt." At this point, she knows what she's doing. "Agh, Mhmm!" You try to scream at her. "Mmm... if I let you cum will you promise me you'll behave?" You nodded quickly. "Fine. You may cum." You cum all over her bed before you fall unconscious.

Barbie may unintentionally kill humans that are close to you. She knows what death and dying are, but she doesn't know what the limits for humans are.

AWW

Home (Joel Miller x Barbie!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a deep sense of loneliness overcomes Cowgirl Barbie, she leaves Barbieland to find whatever poor kid it is that's making her feel that way. Of course, she could never have expected just how much light Sarah would bring to her life, and she certainly didn't expect the things her grumpy father would teach her about love.

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Barbie movie spoilers, angst, angry Joel (he's insecure and protective), descriptions of loneliness, lots of fluff!

A/n: this is literally my Magnum Opus. Reader is Cowgirl Barbie. I truly hope you love this as much as I do 💖

Barbieland has been very different since Stereotypical Barbie left. Good different.

The Kens have jobs now, proper jobs, not just ‘Beach’ or ‘Surf’. They’re not the most competent workers Barbieland has ever seen; they get too distracted trying on new overalls at the building site or throwing paper aeroplanes at each other in the offices. But they’re trying, and you have to admit, it’s pretty adorable seeing them so excited to head off to work each morning.

Barbieland has laughter now, true laughter, not perfect giggles but the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes your belly hurt. It has crying, proper full-bodied sobs that rack through your chest, aching in a good way. And it has life. Fervent, overwhelming, painfully brilliant life.

It’s magnificent, even the really hard bits. Which there are a lot of.

Like losing someone you really, really love.

Stereotypical Barbie - Barbara, as she’s known now - had been your best friend. Your Dreamhouse was right next to hers, and every morning you’d float down to the streets together, where she’d hop into her little pink car and you’d mount your pony and ride into town. It was perfect, a sweet little life surrounded by pinkness and joy, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you miss it.

You bonded over how displaced you both felt. Neither of you really had a thing, a specific job to do. She was Stereotypical Barbie, and you’re Cowgirl Barbie. Destined to wear dusty denim and cowboy hats for all of eternity; not a doctor, not a physicist, not an astronaut and certainly not the president. Just a cowgirl.

And there aren’t even any cows.

That was what brought you and Stereotypical Barbie together; you both felt slightly unsure of the world, however perfect it may be, and you found friendship in that.

So when she left, that hurt. 

Because she found purpose.

Purpose in feeling, and knowing, and living.

Purpose in things you could only dream about. And what you hate the most is that she was right.

It feels good to hurt. It feels good to have that pain in your chest, that ache in your cheeks when you’re not quite done crying yet. That emptiness that fills the space where flowers had once bloomed.

It feels like shit to miss your friend, and it feels incredible to have loved someone so much that you miss them.

And that’s the beauty she brought to your life. To all the Barbies’ lives.

But it still goddamn hurts.

About as much as the strange thoughts of loneliness have hurt the past few weeks.

You’re never alone in Barbieland; there’s always someone there, a friend, a listening ear. A million other Barbies who genuinely care.

But the feeling is so strong, so heavy in your gut, that all the Barbies and Kens and Allens in the world can’t take it away.

Which only calls for one thing.

“Your friend had the same problem, you know,” Weird Barbie says, walking round you in circles like prey. You gulp; she’s significantly less ‘weird’ now, what with her fancy job at the Capital and the whole ‘awakened Barbies’ thing, but she certainly kept some habits that set you a little bit on edge.

“How do you mean?” You stutter, trying to keep up as she continues to stalk around you and make strange gestures.

“First came the depression-” she pulls down a presentation screen from god-knows where, one decorated with the typical Barbie anatomy and annotated with the same notes Weird Barbie is now recounting. She points to the head, ‘depression’ scribbled beside it, and stops in front of you.

“And then-” she moves again, rotating to the other side of the screen and pointing to the drawing’s legs. “-came the cellulite.”

She pauses, seemingly waiting for some big reaction, but you just stare. Sure, cellulite was feared back then, but almost every Barbie has it now, and it’s really no big deal. “...okay?” you posit, slightly more concerned as Weird Barbie’s face falls at your reply.

“Damn, I guess we really are doing things differently now.” Her surprise is dropped quickly, as she continues to explain what it means to be overcome with these awful feelings so quickly.

“In the end, sweetheart, there’s only one way to fix this.” She leans in uncomfortably close, making you gulp. “You gotta go to the real world.”

You had a feeling she’d say that. 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

When you arrive in the real world, there’s really only one person you can go to. The one person you’ve missed more than anything.

She was your best friend, and yet standing here on the doorstep of an apartment that looks nothing like a Dreamhouse, you can’t help how nervous you feel.

She’d given all the Barbies her new address, in case any of them managed to sneak into the real world, so she mustn’t mind that you’re here. But she’ll be so different now, so human, and you’re still just a Barbie with a jaunty cowgirl outfit and a sunny disposition.

Your worries are immediately washed away when the door flings open, and before you can even see who it is, a pair of arms are tightly wrapped around your neck and you’re pulled in for a big, warm hug. But you know who it is, and you hug her back immediately, tears welling in your eyes as you finally hold your best friend again.

Barbara pulls back, holding your cheeks in her hands, almost like she didn’t think you were really there. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins, hugging you again with a giggle. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, Barbara, I missed you too,” you cry, not wanting to let her go. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and you finally relax your arms, taking in how much she’s changed. She isn’t wearing anything pink, or sparkly, but a white blouse and nude pants that look very professional. Very human. Very different.

You don’t reply to her question, unsure of what the answer even is, and that alone makes her worried. So she takes you by the hand and leads you into her apartment, one painted white with sweet pictures on the walls of her with Sasha and Gloria, and some other women you don’t recognise. It makes you a little jealous.

She leads you to the kitchen, sitting you on a bar stool and pouring tea for you both. You go to drink it, holding the cup away from your mouth and tipping it, but she quickly jumps up shouting “no!” and pulling the cup down.

She laughs, making you laugh nervously too, and explains you need to hold the cup to your lips and sip. “Are you sure?” you ask, staring down at the liquid and tentatively trying to drink it, the warmth on your tongue foreign but sweet. 

“Yep! That’s how we drink here. I know it’s weird but once you get used to it, it’s so good.”

You smile, putting down the cup and looking back at your friend. “Things are pretty different here, huh?”

Barbara smiles, nodding her head and swinging her legs where they hang from the stool. “Yep! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, with a fraction of the excitement. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, knocking your hat slightly which you quickly correct into place, acutely aware of yourself in the presence of someone who’s changed so much. “Do… do you ever miss us? The Barbies?”

She grimaces, making you regret asking as soon as the words leave your lips. Her eyebrows sink into concern, and she sets her tea down beside yours, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Every single day. Of course I miss you - I even miss the Kens!” You both giggle, and you’re reminded of how things were before. 

You have to admit, you almost asked your Ken to come with you, but he was having so much fun in Barbieland now that you couldn’t bring yourself to take him away from it.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” Her eyes have welled up now, and guilt hits you like a truck.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so happy for you, truly.” You smile, and you know she knows you mean it. “I just… I feel so lonely. It’s like a big hole in my chest, all the time. No matter what I do, no matter how many girl’s nights and big blowout parties and days on the beach, I just feel lonely. And it’s even worse without you here.”

Barbara holds your hand tighter, and something you said seems to have caught her attention. “You mean you felt like this even before I left? Before the Kendom?”

You nod, sheepish, and her eyes squint in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she gives you her trademark big white smile and excitedly shouts, “I know what you need to do!”

She jumps off her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking LA. You stand there for a moment, taking in the view, the overwhelming sights and sounds of rushing traffic below you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“You need to find the little girl who’s playing with you,” Barbara whispers, watching your amazement. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” You ask, finally pulling your eyes away to face your friend. She nods, her smile just as bright and honest as ever, and it makes the idea of facing this big wide world seem a little less scary.

“I’ll come with you, we’ll go find her, and we’ll figure out what’s been making her feel so lonely.” 

“Will you really come with me?” 

You already know the answer; of course she will. She’s the kindest person you know. Of course, all the Barbies are the kindest people you know, but that’s a technicality you don’t feel like getting into right now.

“You know it,” she grins, and you can’t help but grin back as you think about what an adventure this is going to be.

“How will I know where to find her?” You ask, looking back through the window at the huge world on the other side of the glass. How could you possibly find your kid?

Barbie tugs you to face her, straightens your hat and looks directly into your eyes, making you focus. “You gotta be really calm, okay? Just close your eyes, clear your mind, and find her memories. And then try to figure out where she is. That’s how I found Sasha!’

You nod, not quite sure how this is going to work, if this is going to work. But you try anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to shush all the noise and confusion in your head, desperately searching for anything that could help you find your kid. You get nothing, ready to give up after a few minutes of emptiness, when suddenly - there it is, the faintest hint of a memory.

“Dad, can we have a movie night tonight?” Sarah asks, watching as Joel paces the room, frantically searching for his other shoe.

“Yeah, sweetheart, course,” he replies. She smiles, heading over to the TV stand and already searching for a film to watch, giggling as her Dad begins to lift up the couch cushions. 

She looks down, seeing the shoe hiding just behind the stand, and rolls her eyes as she picks it up and throws it at him. “How’d you find it?” He mutters, scoffing as she just laughs at him, though a matching grin is etching its way onto his lips.

He slides on the other shoe, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading over to give Sarah a kiss on the head. “When will you be home?” She asks, and he offers a guilty smile that doesn’t make her particularly hopeful.

“Soon as I can, Sarah. Around 8? 9 at the latest.” She nods, forcing a smile and letting him go, and Joel’s out the door in a flash with a final shout of “Love you, honey!” and a slam of the door.

The memory changes, then.

It’s nighttime, and Sarah lies alone on the couch, a movie playing that she doesn’t seem to be really watching. Her eyes flicker up to the mantlepiece, where the clock reads 10:13, and she sighs. 

Then she stands, traipsing into the hallway and towards the front door, where the key hangs in the lock. She turns it, unlocking the door and leaving the key on the sidetable, then picking up a piece of mail that had been left there.

“51 Mulberry Road

Travis County

Austin, Texas

Dear Mr. Miller, we are writing to solicit your contracting services for our new development…”

Sarah groans, throwing the letter back on the table and muttering “more work, great.” She retreats upstairs, slamming the door behind her and climbing into bed…

You’re pulled out of the memory by Barbara’s voice, filled with excitement. “Can you see her? Do you know her name? Do you know where she is?”

“Sarah” you mumble, still dazed. “Sarah, her name’s Sarah.”

Barbara squeals, clapping her hands together before calming herself and urging you to continue. “And? Where is she?”

You concentrate, trying to remember what was written on the letter you saw. “Er… Texas. Yeah, she’s in Texas. Mulberry Road. Is that close?”

She pulls a face, a yeah… no kind of face, then grabs a big book from under her coffee table and flips it open. You watch in amazement as she scans the pages and pages of maps inside, until she shouts, “a-ha!”, pointing to a spot on a page titled ‘The United States of America’. “Here it is. We’ll need to fly there.”

A nervous excitement brews in your tummy, your eyes glued to the little spot on the map labelled Texas. The spot where Sarah lives, with her Dad. The place you’re destined to find.

“Oh, and don’t get freaked out… but men fly planes here.” Your head snaps up, confusion painting your face, and Barbara just nods at your reaction.

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering if she was just playing a prank. “Is… is that safe?”

She giggles, putting the book down and grabbing your hand. “Yep, there’s a lot to get used to here. You’ll see. Now come on, we need to pack our bags!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

And so here you are, on a flight to Texas, on your way to find Sarah and bring an end to her loneliness. 

Barbara tells you all about the real world. How different yet wonderful it is, how much there is to do and see and feel. She’s at university now, getting qualifications to be a psychologist and work with young girls who are struggling. It’s brilliant, but strange, you think - qualifications aren’t needed in Barbieland - anyone can just do anything. Well, the Barbies can. And the Kens really do try.

The journey is filled with new and exciting things, but it’s scattered with memories of Sarah and her dad that pop up in your mind at random. You see everything; their best moments, their worst, the times they’ve laughed and cried and screamed. 

You can see the first time she chose you. She was smaller, much smaller than she is in the more recent memories, and her Dad seemed friendlier, then.

“Alright, honey. Which one d’ya want?” Joel asks, smiling as Sarah’s eyes scan shelf after shelf of Barbies. 

“You should get this one,” he jokes, picking up a doll labelled ‘Builder Barbie’. “She’s just like your daddy!”

Sarah giggles, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “You’re not a builder, daddy! You’re a cont-ac-er.”

Joel’s heart warms, both at how much she loves his job and won’t accept a vague similarity, and her attempted pronunciation of the word ‘contractor’. 

“Well then, which one, babygirl?”

She spends a few more moments looking at each option, before her eyes widen, landing on one a little further away to the left. She stands up on her tippy-toes, grabbing the doll and admiring it, giddy.

“This one, Daddy! I want this one!” She shows him the doll, waving it in his face but not letting him take it, protective already. It’s a Cowgirl Barbie, one clothed in denim and brown leather, with cliche cowboy boots and a hat. 

“She’s just like you, Daddy.”

Joel pulls a face, looking back and forth between Sarah and the doll. “How in the hell is she like me?”

Sarah scowls, pointing to the cowboy hat and explaining, “she’s a cowgirl! And you’re a cowboy!” 

“I ain’t no cowboy” Joel retorts, shaking his head and leading Sarah over to the cashier’s desk. “When have you ever seen me in one of them hats, huh?”

Sarah giggles, itching to take the doll out of the box, and Joel knows she’ll do it the second he’s paid. “Maybe you can borrow hers, daddy, and be a proper cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, though the smile hasn’t fallen from his face for even a second. He pays, watching with joy as Sarah scrambles to rip open the plastic, finally pulling out the doll and hugging it the whole way home while making up stories of ranches and horses and pistol duels - she was certainly her father’s daughter.

“Barbie? You there?” Barbara pulls you out of your thoughts, staring at you as you finally turn to look at her. 

“Sorry, I’m here. Just…”

“Keep getting memories, huh?” 

You nod, looking out the plane window and into the skies. She still seems concerned, but lets it go, returning to her magazine and letting you be with your thoughts. 

More memories swirl in your mind; you can see Sarah’s first days of middle school and high school, her most vulnerable moments of crying in her room and talking to you like you were the only one who’d listen, her relationship with her dad and how he’s become more and more distant over the years.

Sarah slams her bedroom door behind her, falling on the bed with a sigh. She sits back up, her eyes falling on the Cowgirl sat on the shelf across from her, growing dusty as she plays with it less and less.

She’s 14 now, too old for dolls really. And yet, that Barbie had been there with her through her toughest moments, and even now, it was comforting to have her there.

“Dad’s at work. Again.” She says, half to the doll, half to herself. “It sucks.”

She dives into her backpack, pulling out a small box and opening it up, the newly-polished watch inside glistening in the light from the window. 

She takes it out, delicately, and turns it around to see the engraved lettering on the back. 

‘No matter what, we have each other. I love you, Dad. From Sarah x’

She smiles, quickly placing the watch back in its box, not wanting to damage it before she could even give it to her Dad. “You think he’ll like it?” She asks the doll smiling at her from the shelf.

“I just… I just want him to know I love him. And that I know he doesn’t mean to be gone all the time.” 

She stands, picking the doll up from the shelf and brushing the dust away, carefully readjusting her little hat and smiling at the piece of her childhood. 

“I’ll give it to him tonight. If he ever comes home,” she sighs, lying down beside the Barbie and taking a nap, knowing she had a long wait ahead.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“Alright, here we are!” Barbara chimes, pulling up to the house you’d been looking for. 51 Mulberry Road. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah I’m nervous,” you quip, the fear plainly stated in your wide eyes. What if she doesn’t like you? What if you can’t help her feel less lonely? What if this just doesn’t work?

“Look, I’ve been there,” she replies, knowing exactly how you feel. “You’ve gotta remember that you’re her Barbie. You’re her friend, and she’s yours. It’s all gonna work out. My only advice? Don’t expect her to thank you for making everything amazing for women. Trust me, it does not end well.”

You giggle, remembering the story of when she first met Sasha, and hope Sarah won’t be quite as mean. You feel a little better, and thank Barbara for her support, grateful to have your friend back.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and get a coffee. If you need anything, call me, okay?” She hands you the little flip phone she bought, having shown you how to make texts and calls on it to her iPhone. You nod, thanking her again and stepping out of the car, the nerves building up as you hear her drive away and you’re left alone in front of the house.

You take a deep breath, your boots clicking on the path as you make your way up to the door, supported by a big wooden patio and a bench out front. It reminds you of home a little; your western-themed Dreamhouse, clad with old wooden floors and southern-style windows.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you raise a hand and knock, waiting with baited breath before you hear footsteps on the other side and the door swings open.

And there she is. Sarah.

She’s a little older than she was in the most recent memories you saw, around 16 now. She’s tall, with a purple cardigan on and pretty blue jeans that you’re jealous of already. Her smile is bright, precious, and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a Barbie herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down with a slightly confused, but still polite expression. 

You stall, the introduction you’d prepared completely forgotten, your mouth just opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sarah’s expression becomes one of concern more than anything, and she reaches out a soft hand to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she pauses, looking you over again. “Sorry, do I… do I know you?”

You stumble again, trying to find the right words, and she must see how genuinely nervous you are because she searches behind you into the street, then pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Come on, you need something to drink.”

She leads you to the kitchen, a beautifully decorated but old fashioned room with porcelain tiles and wooden beams across the ceiling. You trace your fingers across the counter top, looking around in awe while Sarah pours you a glass of lemonade. 

Your eyes fall to the corner of the room, where her school bag sits, and a familiar-looking cowboy hat pokes out. You walk towards it without thinking and pull out the doll, admiring the little plastic version of yourself.

“Oh, that’s - that’s not what it looks like. I’m not… I don’t play with dolls anymore, obviously, I just…”

Sarah’s voice trails off, and you assume she’s embarrassed, but when you turn to face her you realise it’s not that at all. She’s staring at you, then the doll, then back at you, with a cocktail of confusion and realisation on her face. 

“You’re dressed… you look exactly like her. What -“ She’s cut off by the front door slamming shut, and a familiar voice shouting down the hall, “Sarah? I’m home.”

Her eyes widen, quickly looking for somewhere she to hide you, the stranger she’s invited in, panicking as her Dad’s footsteps get louder.

But it’s too late. Joel stands in the door frame, staring at you, then shooting Sarah a look that says, ‘the fuck is this?’

“Dad, I can explain-“ he cuts her off, staring you in the eye and taking a step towards you. He looks older than he did in your memories - not in the way that Sarah does, but in a tired way, like he’d worked a hundred years and counting. Grey curls wash over his head, matched by a silvery beard and sunken eyes, and for all the Kens you’ve known in your life, you don’t think you’ve met anyone as handsome as him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks - no, demands, one arm protectively stretched in Sarah’s direction.

“I- I’m- Barbie. I’m Barbie.” You stutter, clutching the doll a little tighter in your hand. Joel’s face scrunches angrily, and he looks at Sarah again, who just shrugs.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” He asks, clearly unimpressed.

You panic, holding up the doll to your face, showing him the obvious similarities between you. The same clothes, same hairstyle, same eyes. 

“You know, Cowgirl Barbie. Sarah’s Barbie,” you explain, a little more confident now, hoping they’d accept your explanation.

Your hopes are quickly dashed as Joel asks Sarah, “do you know this clown?” 

His arms are clenched, and you try not to worry about what’s coming next.

“No, Dad, but-“

He cuts her off. “So you just invited this crazy person into our home?” 

He’s shouting now, and you recoil, remembering Barbara’s first experience meeting Sasha. You wonder if this is worse.

“Dad, don’t talk about her like that,” Sarah shouts back. It makes you feel at least a little better, but it’s too late. Joel’s incensed, shouting about stranger danger and how you’re probably an escapee from some mental asylum, how weird it is that you know what dolls she owns and how to dress like them. 

“- and you” he looks directly at you now, pointing. “You get the hell out of my home and you don’t speak to my daughter ever again, you hear me?”

Tears stream down your face as you nod, throwing the doll onto the counter and running past Sarah and Joel and out of the house. You can barely make it out the front door, stumbling against the columns on the patio, before making it just far enough onto the grass outside to stumble to your knees and let yourself cry properly.

That same, overwhelming loneliness fills you again, tearing deep into your chest and only adding to your pain. Your shoulders shake, and you try to remind yourself of what they teach you at Barbieland; crying is good, hurting is good. It means you’re alive.

But it really doesn’t feel good right now.

You can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing, but you don’t really register it, not until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder.

You look behind you, meeting Sarah’s apologetic eyes, and you try to wipe your own of their flood of tears. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I must look horrible,” you laugh, though it’s forced.

Sarah smiles, sitting down in front of you, knees crossed. “I think you look beautiful.”

And that makes you really smile.

You giggle, pulling off your cowboy hat and setting it on the grass beside you. Your denim jacket feels a little hot now, too tight, but you try to ignore the feeling and focus on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Is it true? Are you really… her?” 

Sarah’s question is soft, like she doesn’t know quite which answer she wants. You only nod, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“You’re Barbie?” She asks again, and you can tell she’s expecting a reply this time.

“Cowgirl Barbie,” you answer, still only looking at your hands. 

“God, you know, when Stereotypical Barbie came here, she had such a good time. Mind you, that was in LA, so -“

Sarah cuts you off with a gasp. “Wait, that was real? I heard about that! It was all over Twitter - Barbie and Ken on roller skates in LA, Barbie in a pink cowboy outfit-“

“Yes!” You exclaim, excited - “she told me all about it! She chose the cowboy outfit ‘cos it reminded her of me, you know. We’re best friends.” 

You’re showing off a little now, but you don’t care - it feels good to talk, to be believed.

Sarah watches you in awe. “Wow. So this is, like, real. This is real? You’re Barbie. Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he had to stay back at home. Well, he didn’t have to, he would’ve come if I asked him to. He’s really sweet. I just… I didn’t wanna be a burden.” You explain, grateful he hadn’t seen you crying like this now you think about it.

“But isn’t he, like, your boyfriend? I’m sure he wouldn't mind.” Sarah replies.

“Oh, he isn’t my boyfriend,” you giggle at the thought. “No, no, we don’t really do that in Barbieland. Everyone’s their own person and makes themselves happy, no need for boyfriends and girlfriends. Even the Kens!”

“Rad,” Sarah grins, liking the sound of Barbieland. “So… why are you here?”

You reply honestly, there’s no use in skirting around it anymore. “Well… I feel what you feel, Sarah. And when you’re sad, and lonely, I feel that too. That’s why I came, to help you feel better.”

“Oh.” It’s all she says.

“Why do you feel like that?” Your tears have stopped by now, your face left red and puffy. You try not to start up again as you watch her face twist at your question.

“Just… stuff. With my dad. He’s never here anymore, always at work. It used to be just me and him against the world, you know? And now it feels like… like it’s just me.”

You pout, rubbing a hand on her knee. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sarah. You always have each other, just like the watch says.” 

You smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but it’s quickly wiped away by the look of shock on her face. 

You’re about to ask her what’s the matter when a southern drawl sounds from behind you, “how do you know that?”

You turn, facing Joel who stands on the steps of the porch, a hand on the railing. Your nerves set in again immediately, and you turn in on yourself, trying not to cry.

“Um, the watch, the one from Sarah. That’s what it says, right?” You can see that very watch strapped to Joel’s wrist, the glass broken, and he brings his other hand to touch it. 

“No one else knows what’s written on that watch,” Sarah says, and you whip around to face her, “holy shit, this is really, really real, isn’t it? You’re her?”

You just nod, and she lets out a laugh, springing forward to hug you. You yelp in surprise but hug her back immediately, revelling in the feeling of wet grass hitting your back. Sarah pulls away, looking up at her Dad with pleading eyes, “come on Dad, you know this is real. She’s real. We have to let her stay.”

You sit up again, grabbing your hat and standing, facing Joel though your eyes stay trained on the floor. He’s silent for a long time, thinking, before he grunts and you can just about make out a whisper of “fine” as Sarah celebrates and leads you back into the house.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You stay there a few days, mostly keeping out of Joel’s way. They set you up in the spare bedroom, but Sarah comes to get you most nights, and you stay up together having sleepovers and telling stories.

You tell her all about Barbieland, about the beautiful beaches and all-woman Supreme Court, the Dreamhouses and the perfectly blue skies. She tells you about her life, the latest drama at school, about Brad the boy who won’t leave her alone and Jenny, her best friend who definitely fancies Brad. It’s incredibly exciting, and you wonder why you never left for the real world sooner.

Barbara’s ecstatic for you, of course; she’s staying in a nearby hotel for as long as you need her there, you even plan to introduce her to Sarah soon.

You wake up one morning, covered in a duvet somewhere in the corner of Sarah’s room, a host of her other old toys laid out where she’d been explaining each one to you last night. You wondered if there’s a Thomas The Tank Engine Land, too.

There are voices downstairs, and for all the rules of politeness and social expectations you’ve learned, you can’t help but tiptoe to the top of the landing and listen in to the conversation. To make sure Sarah’s okay, more than anything.

“Oh come on, Dad. It’s just one day!” Sarah almost shouts, though it’s obvious she’s trying to keep her voice down. They both are.

“Sarah, I gotta go to work. How the hell am I meant to keep a walking-talking Barbie doll entertained for 7 hours, huh? You want me to talk about makeup and glitter?” Joel’s voice is thick and annoyed, though he’s noticeably gentler when he talks to her.

Sarah scoffs, and you can’t see her, but you know she’s rolling her eyes. “She’s more than that, Dad. She’s smart, and she’s caring. Just - just do this for me, okay? And as soon as I’m back from school, I’ll take her off your hands.”

You can’t see them, but you hear their footsteps walk a little closer to the stairwell. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You better go and wake her up then, cos I gotta leave in 20,” Joel resigns.

You see the top of Sarah’s head from your view between the bannisters, and quickly hurry back to her room and under the sheets. She enters, sitting beside your spot on the floor and whispering, “Barbie? Hey Barbie, wake up!”

You feign tiredness, lifting your head and smiling at the girl. “Oh hey, Sarah, good morning.”

She giggles, and you’re quickly aware of your bedhead, something you never experienced in Barbieland. She talks as you grab a brush and fix yourself up.

“So look, I gotta go to school today. But my Dad agreed to take you with him to work so you’re not on your own… is that okay?” 

She must see the slight panic in your eyes,  as she quickly scrambles to reassure you. 

“I know he was a bit of a hot head when you first met him, but he’s just… protective. But he’s sweet, really. Just give him a chance.”

You think about it for a moment. Barbara is still staying nearby, and you know she’d come and hang out with you while you wait for Sarah to come home if you asked. But then again, maybe it’d be good to spend some time with Joel/ It’s obvious that a lot of what brought you here comes down to their relationship, and if you can help to fix that even just a little bit, then your journey will have been worth it.

“Okay,” you answer, giving Sarah a small smile. She grins, standing up and grabbing her school bag before shouting over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “great! He’s going in 20 minutes… better get ready!” 

You gasp, jumping up from your little nest on the floor and searching through the duffel bag Barbara packed for you of outfits to wear, all western-themed of course.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Car rides with Joel are… awkward, to say the least. 

He drives in silence, no radio, just the slow drone of traffic outside echoing between you, whistling through the open windows.

His car is very different to the ones in Barbieland. It doesn’t have an open top, the seats are worn and rough to the touch. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs in the air, and though you’re not used to it, you still find it comforting. Safe.

You reach for the radio, looking for a tune to play and maybe even sing - you’re sure that’ll cheer him up. But he stops you, not hurting you at all but batting your hand away and finally taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t touch that,” he grunts, and you shrink back in on yourself again. He recoils a little, like he’s trying to appear less aggressive, and refocuses on the road.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shy.

He shakes his head, resting his elbow on the window beside him and readjusting himself, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it’s you or just the way he’s sat, you don’t know.

“‘S fine,” he mutters, barely audible. You nod, unsure of what else to say after that. You’re not looking at him, though you can see his movements in the edge of your peripheral, and you’re certain you can see him glancing at you every couple of minutes.

He finally speaks again after a long span of silence. 

“So…” he starts, tentative. “Is it hard to get here? From- from Barbieland?”

You turn, though he isn’t facing you, eyes trained on the road. You keep looking at him anyway - this is progress at least.

“It’s pretty simple. First you drive, then you cycle, then take a boat, then a rocketship, then you stay in a campervan for a little while, then a snowmobile and voila! You’re rollerskating into LA.” You grin, recounting your adventure into the real world, happy to be able to share it with him. You’re not sure what it is about him, but there’s just something inside of you that’s desperate for him to get you. To care. 

Joel just grunts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his brows, and you’re worried for a second that he doesn’t believe you, again. But he doesn’t press, instead he seems to be thinking, and then he asks another question.

“How do you get back?”

“Gotta do all that in reverse,” you answer, giggling. You’re sure you can see the slightest pull of his lips, the hint of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You decide to try and engage him, let him talk. “Do you like what you do? For work?”

He just grunts again, and your shoulders sink, giving up. He doesn’t want to talk to you. 

You decide not to press him further, but you can see him continue to glance at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, and there must be something in the air because he sighs before talking, a vulnerability in his voice.

“I used to. My Dad did it, contracting. Used to take me and my brother out every weekend and show us the trade. And when I started my business, that was good. Things were good. Now…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Things aren’t good?” You ask, trying to be careful. Trying to encourage him. 

He nods. “Things are different, now. Busy. It’s a hard business.”

You don’t reply, not because you don’t want to, but because you’re not sure how. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, he pulls up at a red light, switching gears and finally looking at you properly. 

“What do you do? In Barbieland?”

“Cowgirl,” you reply, being the one to avoid his gaze now.

“Cowgirl?” He repeats, and you only nod, offering a small smile and waiting for his reaction.

“So is that, like, on a ranch?” 

He’s switching gears again, cruising through the now green light and continuing the drive, muttering something about ‘almost there’ as you arrive in an upscale neighbourhood, lined with huge houses and cars that even the Barbies don’t have.

You shrug, self conscious, but you answer him. You owe him that. He did it for you. 

“No, just… you know. I wear the hat, and the denim and the boots. And I just… cowgirl. That’s what I do.”

He nods, and for the first time since you met him, you’re not nervous about what he’ll say next. You feel comfortable with him, safe even, and you’re not sure what it is about this little drive that’s flipped that switch, but you think he might feel the same way.

“Does it pay well?” He asks, a playfulness in his tone that you haven’t seen in him before. It’s like he’s lit up over the course of your conversation.

You grin, meeting his eyes properly now, where he draws away for a moment at a time to check the road but lets his gaze fall back on you straight after. 

“Better than contracting,” you sass. You’re not sure where the cockiness comes from, whether you’re matching his tone or you just feel that comfortable with him, and for a moment you’re worried you’ve offended him with the joke.

But then he laughs.

It’s not hysterics, but it isn’t an amused ‘huff’ either. It’s like a giggle, a bright, giddy laugh that spreads across his face and makes his eyes light up like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful. It’s sweet.

You tell him as much.

“You have a pretty smile.”

He slows a little, his mouth quickly reigning in its smile and his chest no longer bubbling with that sweetness it had before. But he doesn’t look angry, or offended. He looks as though he’s not quite sure what to do. Like no one’s ever told him that before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the words quickly blowing away with the wind through the open window. You smile in reply, and he watches, neither of you seeming to notice that he’s stopped the car and you’ve reached your destination. Neither of you move.

And then he says the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. 

“So do you.”

It’s gentle, mumbled so lowly you almost think he doesn’t want you to hear it, and yet it hits you in the chest like a lorry. 

You’ve been told that before, of course you have. You’re a Barbie. Whether it’s the other Barbies complementing one another, or the Kens trying to flirt, or Allen just being the nice guy he is, you’ve heard those words before. 

But you’ve never heard them like this, like they’re hard to say, but they need to be said anyway. 

It’s powerful.

You smile again, so does he. You stay in the car a little while longer, in silence again, but it’s a silence laced with comfort and feelings you don’t know how to label. Until he finally breaks the spell, climbing out of the car and helping you out on your side.

He spends the day showing you his work, how to plan builds, how to measure up wood and mark all the right places to cut it. You learn there’s a key named after Allen, and Joel snorts when you tell him how excited you are to let him know that. He even lets you hammer a few nails, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter when he puts his arms around you to guide your movements, his breath in your ear.

And things are good after that day. Really good.

The three of you spend time together, as much as you can, almost like a family. You’ve never experienced family before, true family, but when you’re sat on the sofa with Sarah on a cushion on the floor and Joel to your side, just out of reach, you wonder if this is what it means to be home.

Of course, you quickly understand what Sarah means when she says she’s lonely. You know exactly where that feeling in your chest is coming from, because the times he’s with you are so fleeting, so far and few inbetween, that it feels like gold dust when you have him and like a black hole when you don’t.

And it’s only been a week before you realise just what it means, these feelings, and how they’re not like anything you’ve felt before.

Sarah reads you like a book, cornering you one day as you play dress up in her room. 

“So, you like my Dad?” She asks, a knowing smirk already painted on her lips.

You splutter for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal, but you give up because you know she has you nailed down. You know she knows.

“Is it that obvious?” You wince, making her grin spread even further. 

“Only, like, all the time,” she laughs, and you flip down on the bed dramatically, making her laugh more. “You know he likes you too, right?”

You sit up again in a flash, eyes wide and searching hers. She raises a brow as you stare, your mind racing - she wouldn’t joke about that, would she? “How do you know?” You ask.

She rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside you on the bed. “Oh come on, man. It’s so obvious. He always talks about you, Barbie said this, Barbie did that’.” She mocks his deep southern drawl, making you giggle. “And he’s always looking at you.”

You blush - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed. You suppose a part of you just never let yourself believe he could feel the same way.

“What do you think I should do?” You’re nervous now, unsure of yourself. Unsure if this is real.

Sarah smiles, a cheeky sort of grin that doesn’t make you feel particularly at ease, and pats your knee with her hand. “Leave it with me.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

She calls you down that night, late, not long after Joel came home from work. You switch off the documentary you were watching, something about the animal kingdom, one that amazed you with all the creatures that walk the earth around you. 

You tiptoe down the stairs, calling out Sarah’s name when you can’t find her in the front room, confused. You hear her again, distantly, like she’s outside, and you follow the sound through the kitchen and out the back door, where you’re greeted with the alluring smell of a sizzling barbecue.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping fully outside and taking in the scene. The backyard, usually overgrown and unkept, is littered with fairylights that wrap around the patio columns and line the fence right down to the end. The Miller’s barbecue is fired up, with an array of vegetable skewers and sausages and burgers cooking on top, Sarah proudly stood beside it in her apron while Joel watches, concerned.

Joel. He’s sat at the little table she’s put together, a round glass one with mismatched chairs on either side. He’s dressed up - his hair looks neater than usual, like he’s put extra care into styling it properly. His shirt isn’t plaid, or denim; it’s a light blue colour that matches the brown of his eyes so wonderfully. He looks nervous.

“Hi,” he says, gentle and soft. Your eyes must be wide and confused, because he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Sarah for support. She rolls her eyes - again - and puts down the tongs she’d been using to flip the burgers. 

“You two are so boring pining over each other. So, I’ve set up a date!” She grins, turning back to the food without a care in the world.

You nod, taking another step forward, looking back toward Joel and not bothering to fight the smile that spreads on your face. 

He doesn’t fight his, either. 

You reach out for the chair opposite him, but before you can, he’s standing up and pulling it out for you, his eyes meeting yours.

Not one of the Kens have ever pulled out a seat for you, you think, thanking Joel and sitting on the little chair. He returns to his own seat, clearing his throat and pouring you a drink; red wine, a new favourite of yours since he introduced you to it. 

Sarah plates up the food, setting it down in front of you in a dramatic waiter-style fashion. 

“You’re certainly my daughter, huh?” Joel asks, pride in his eyes as he looks at the food, which you have to admit looks pretty damn good.

“The student has become the master,” she quips, and your heart melts at the sweet moment between the two. 

“Now, you two enjoy. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything… get it yourself. The kitchen is literally right there.”

You and Joel roll your eyes as Sarah bows out, laughing at her own jokes and giving a final wave as she heads into the house, leaving you both alone.

“So,” you begin, unsure of what to say.

“So.” Joel mimics, though you don’t think he plans to say anything after that. He’s not one to initiate conversation.

But then again, people can change. 

“You look really nice,” he says, his eyes so heavy set on you that it makes you feel flush. You look down, at the old baggy top you’re wearing over grey sweats, and you’re suddenly self conscious compared to his nice shirt and carefully-put hair.

“I don’t,” you reply, embarrassed. “I look like a mess.”

He interjects immediately. “No. You don’t. How could you? I mean you’re literally - you’re -“ he can’t find his words.

You finish the sentence for him. “A Barbie.”

“Yeah.”

You’re not sure why it makes you feel the way that it does. Sad. Like you’re not quite real to him, a novelty. He sighs, and for all the time you’ve spent with him by now, you can’t read what’s going on behind the man’s eyes at all.

You sit in silence for a short while, enjoying Sarah’s food, drinking wine. There’s something hanging in the air, heavy and strange, and neither of you know how to address it.

It surprises you when Joel finally breaks the silence again. “Do you miss home?” He asks, pouring you another glass.

You think for a moment. You answer honestly. “I don’t know.” His eyebrow quirks, motioning for you to continue.

“There was a time when I’d have never even dreamed of leaving Barbieland. When I didn’t want anything to change. But things are different now, since Ster- since Barbara left. Everyone thinks differently, feels differently. It’s a very different place. And suddenly everything that made me love Barbieland doesn’t matter to me anymore. The perfect wardrobe, the perfect house, the perfect life. None of that matters. It’s the things here, in this world, that matter.”

“What things?” Joel asks, and it’s only now that you notice his hand has migrated across the table, holding your much smaller one. You wrap your fingers around his, revelling in the small squeeze he gives you, fighting back a smile.

You’re staring at your interlocked hands when you answer. “Family. Purpose.” 

You look at him. “Love.”

He breathes out, like he’s letting something go, something that made him scared but doesn’t anymore. You squeeze his hand.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. It’s sweet, comfortable. It’s nice. 

Until you put your foot in it.

“Do you still feel lonely?” Joel asks, the buzz of red wine making his drawl even heavier.

You smile, glossy eyes doting on him, hands still intertwined. “Well, I felt lonely because Sarah felt lonely. So… no. I feel good.”

Joel frowns, his head tilts. “Do you know why she felt like that?”

You’re not sure how to approach this with him. It’s something you’ve thought about, pondered for days, turned over and over in your mind with no good resolution.

You know exactly why she felt like that. She told you as much.

My Dad’s never here. He’s always away, working. I don’t see him.

But you also know it’s a truth he won’t accept. Not easily, at least.

“Well,” you begin, treading lightly. “I think she just… misses you, Joel. Misses her Dad.”

He’s confused. He pulls away from you, his grip on your hand loosens. “But I’m here.” It’s an assertion, challenging your suggestion.

“I know, I know. But you’re not… you’re not here. You come home from work late, you’re tired, you go to bed. You wake up and before we can even say ‘good morning’ you’re out the door again, going to work.”

His jaw flickers, in that same way it did when you first met. He’s angry. 

“I do what i have to do to support my family,” he grumbles, fully retracting his hand now. You feel the loss of his touch instantly, in your heart. 

That same loneliness sets in again, but it’s not Sarah’s anymore. No, it belongs solely, wholly, to you.

You try to placate him. “I know, Joel, I know. I get it. I just -”

“Just what?” He interrupts you, and you pause, scared to speak. Scared to mess this up.

“She needs you to talk to her. She needs you to listen to her. She needs you to hold her and let her know she’s not alone. She doesn’t see that right now, Joel.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares into space, arms folded. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“‘That how it works in Barbieland? Everyone gets what they want, everyone’s happy?” He asks, agitated.

You shake your head. “No, Joel, I-”

“‘Cos that’s not how the real world works, sweetheart. Everythin’ ain’t perfect. The trees ain’t made of cotton fuckin’ candy.” He sneers, mocking you, and the words pierce through you like knives.

“And I ain’t taking parenting advice from no Barbie doll.” 

That really, really hurts.

And it makes you angry, because for all your faults and weaknesses, being a Barbie certainly isn’t one of them.

“Why are you being so defensive?” You ask, your tone rising to match his. “You know I'm right. All that girl wants is her Dad, not a stranger who’s barely there, not a ghost that puts food on the table but won’t even come home on time for her. She wants her Dad, Joel.”

He stands, slamming his palms on the glass with so much force you fear it’ll shatter. He doesn’t shout, but his words are sharp, pointed, and they land exactly where he intended them to.

“You have no idea what it’s like. You’re stuck in your fantasy world, where everything’s pink, but you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to live in the real world. So why don’t you head back to your special Barbieland and leave the actual living, the hard parts, to the rest of us, huh?”

Tears threaten to spill on your cheeks, your eyes burning from the strain of holding them back. “Joel, you don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. Just… just get out of my house.” 

He walks away from the table, crossing his arms and facing away from you, staring out into the night. You nod, to yourself if no one else, breaking your strength as a sob racks through your body. You clasp a shaking hand to your mouth, not wanting him to hear you, but you see the way his shoulders clench. He heard. 

He doesn’t react further, though. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make sure you’re okay.

So you do what he said. You leave.

You stalk past Sarah, wiping away the onslaught of tears that have taken hold now, ignoring her as she shouts between you and Joel. “Guys? What’s going on?”

She doesn't follow you upstairs, choosing to give you space and speak to her Dad instead, you think. You text Barbara, asking her to pick you up, and shove your clothes into your bag as quickly as you can in spite of your blurred vision and the messy hair that covers your face. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been, you’d have only thought seconds if you didn’t know Barbara’s hotel was at least 10 minutes away, but you hear her beep the horn from outside and follows its direction.

Sarah’s waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You look down the hall, where Joel sits at the kitchen counter, arms still folded and head down.

“Please,” Sarah begs, “don’t go.” She’s crying, and it makes your heart hurt more.

“I have to.” 

You try to move past her, but she stops you, blocking the way with her body. “Sarah, I have to,” you repeat, choking on your own sobs.

“Why?” She shouts, hot tears staining her face. “My Dad told me what happened. You’re right. He’s wrong, he’s always wrong. He’s never here, but you are, and now you’re leaving me like everyone else. Like my Mom.”

Your nose scrunches. More tears fall. Your chest hurts. “I’m not your Mom, Sarah. And your Dad… he loves you. He loves you so much. Promise me you’ll remember that, okay? He loves you. I love you.”

She doesn’t stop you when you try to leave again. You all but run out the door, the once comfortable night air now painful as it hits your wet cheeks, ice cold. Barbara looks at you with more concern than you’ve seen her with before, more than when she discovered the Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, but you say nothing as you get in the car. You just stare straight ahead, and she drives.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“I’m so sorry, Barbie. I never thought it’d end like this.”

Barbara’s holding your hands, reluctant to let go. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. “It’s not your fault,” you reply, and it’s true. It’s not her fault. It’s yours.

“And it isn’t yours, Barbie,” she retorts, like she can read your mind. You just nod, unconvincing, but she doesn’t push it.

You hug her, for the millionth time since she took you home from Joel and Sarah’s house, since she flew back to LA with you. And now here you are, at Venice Beach with your roller skates on, going back to the place you’ve always called home.

So why does it feel like you’re going anywhere but?

“Thank you for everything, Barbara. I mean it.” You pull back, wiping a tear from her cheek and smiling the best you can, your own tears rolling down your face like the skaters behind you.

She smiles back, and though she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. You know she loves you. You know she’ll miss you.

And with that, you pull away, pushing on each skate until you’re rolling away from the real world and back into your own. Back where you belong, where you’re supposed to be. Where you’re actually wanted.

There are people pointing, laughing at you as you skate past them, but you don’t care. You haven’t cared about anything since last night.

You can see the snowscape ahead, the next part of your journey. Your next step towards Barbieland and a world of pink perfection.

A world that isn’t the same to you now.

You’re nearly there, about to switch skates for the snowmobile, when a familiar, desperate voice comes from behind you.

“Barbie! Barbie, wait!”

You brake, skates screeching on the ground, as you turn to search for him in the crowd.

And there he is, Joel, clinging to a ramp on the left side of the park with the most ridiculous pair of neon green roller skates you’ve ever seen.

“Joel?” You call, immediately rolling over to him when you realise how much he’s struggling. If you weren’t so filled with the joy of seeing him here, you’d laugh at the state he’s in; eyes wide and legs falling beneath him, clearly not used to roller skating. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I wanted to- jesus, if I could just stand up-” You giggle, and he shoots you a look, which just makes you laugh harder. You help him up, laying a gentle hand on his chest as he nearly falls again, your other hand clinging to his waist as he finally finds his balance.

He’s blushing, embarrassed, but there’s something else in his eyes as they finally settle on you and he sighs. “Barbie, I’m so sorry.”

You’re not sure where to look. At him, at your hands, at those ridiculous roller skates he’s wearing. Of course, you can’t pull your eyes from him, anyway.

“It’s - it’s okay. You were right anyway, I’m not-”

“No, no,” he interrupts, placing both hands on your cheeks and quickly stumbling as he loses his balance again without the support of the rail. You hold him, giggling as he almost brings you both down, though you manage to keep him upright and he laughs right there with you.

“Jesus, this is embarrassing,” he finally huffs, and your head falls against his chest. When you raise it again, he’s already looking at you, with those big brown eyes that you never want to forget.

“I wasn’t right. I was an asshole. A huge, insecure asshole.” You try to shake your head, to disagree, but he doesn’t let you. “Just let me say this,” he begs. You let him.

“You were right. I haven’t been there for her. I haven’t been the Dad she needs me to be. I’m just… I’m just scared. Of not being good enough. Of letting her down. So I work, and come home late, and leave early, and I convince myself it’s the right thing to do. But I’m hurting her. And I hurt you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and it pains you as if they were your own. 

“I haven’t seen Sarah this happy in a long time,” he continues, resting a hand on your cheek again, carefully this time. “Barbie, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

You don’t know what to say. You take your hand from his waist, tentative, making sure the other one is stable on his chest. You place it over his where it rests on your cheek, folding your fingers around his own, and turning to press a gentle kiss into his palm. He mumbles something, you don’t hear what, but from the look in his eyes you think you know.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t - don’t go back there. I want you here. You belong here.”

You look into his eyes. You know he means it. 

And so you do the only thing that makes any sense in this moment. 

You kiss him.

You’re careful to keep him upright, but he seems to have stopped caring about that; instead both hands are on you again, frantic, holding you tight like he never wants to lose you again.

When you finally break the kiss, neither of you pull away from one another, your foreheads connected and breaths intertwined. 

“Okay,” you gasp, pulling on his shirt. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Joel closes his eyes again, sighing in relief as you finally release your other hand, touching it to his neck and feeling the rapid pulse that beats against it. You’re holding one another so closely, so tightly, that there’s no way he can fall now.

“You’ll come back to Texas?” He asks, like he still doesn’t quite believe you.

You nod again, giggling at the joy that spreads on his face, though it’s quickly muffled when he kisses you again. And again, and again and again until you’re breathless and sweaty and no longer sure which of you needs help staying upright the most.

You help him turn, wrapping your arms around his waist and supporting him as you try to make your way back across the park, and only then do you see Barbara and Sarah stood to the sidelines, watching, smiling.

You realise Sarah has her phone out, pointed at her Dad, and you’re pretty sure Joel sees it too but before he can say anything, he slips again and falls flat on his bum on the floor, bringing you right down with him.

You gasp, cushioned by his chest and his protective arms around you, laughing hysterically as he groans and sits up. You watch as his face turns from pain into anger, his eyes fixated on something ahead, and you think you know what it is-

“Sarah! Delete that video right now!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Tag list: @vickie5446 @skysmiller @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @letmehavemyfictionalmen

GIRL WAIT WAIT WAIT-

"König is very envious. He envies people with higher position, people with better skills (even though these are rare ones)" what about a fem reader, who is exactly this?

Higher position, and better than him somehow??? For the event, please! What about some hatred sex, enemies to lovers maybe. He is attracted but drowning in envy.

Pairing: König x fem! sniper! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, König being a lil bitch

A/n: did I write this thing in 20 mins? Hell yes I did. Also, sorry it’s not exactly how you requested it, but well, I write whatever I want I guess. Referring to this post

Your Colonel hates you.

König hates you with blazing fierce, even despite the fact that it was him who hand picked you into his team, him who trained you hours to no end to make you into a perfect sniper. He loathes your mere existence, gritting his teeth at the sound of your voice greeting him every morning, your bright smile addressed at him.

At your young age of 23 you completed 26 missions as a sniper, every single one of them successful. You were a natural, truly. Your smaller size and flexibility were perfect for position of a sniper, making it way easier for you to hide, able to move from one spot to another without being noticed by enemy. And König loathed it. Why the fuck were you living his dream? Just because you were born smaller? Such an injustice.

And he trained you even harder; until your right shoulder was all bruised from the kickback of a rifle, until your eyes were sharper than eagle’s, until you instinctively felt where to shoot, considering weather conditions, to aim perfectly. König shaped your skills with great precision and sternness, making a shiny diamond out of rough rock.

And sometimes König hated himself for treating you so unjustly. It wasn’t your fault that you were small, nor was it his fault that he was so huge. You were always so sweet and polite, never once talking back, no matter how harsh his words and actions were. You always treated König with respect that was borderline childish awe, taking in his every word, complying with his every demand. And he adored you for that.

Adoration on a verge on hatred - how unhealthy. You seemed to be perfect - too perfect, and König wanted to break you down, to make you look horrible, to open you up and take a look at all the disgusting things that you were hiding within so skillfully. Everyone had a bad side, right?

And that’s why he called you into his office, bending you over his desk, fucking his huge throbbing cock into your welcoming heat. Velvety walls clamped down onto his hard length desperately as you fought back all the pretty moans that threatened to fall from your lips. You way smaller body plunged forward slightly with each of König’s ferocious thrusts, your plump ass rippling at the impact of his hips against it, back arching oh so beautifully. And that’s when König finally realized.

It was him who was the fucked up one.

All this time, König believed it was your fault - that you stole his dream, taunted him with your excellent skills, teased him for failing his career as a sniper. And that moment he realized that you were the sweetest creature out there, basically worshipping your harsh and mean Colonel who treated you so harshly, who expanded your mind and abilities even further.

And König was just a pathetic envious piece of shit.

His movements halted as he watched from behind your ribs move as you breathed rapidly; he couldn’t see your face, but he noted that your ears were a few shades redder; your small hands were clinging to the shiny surface of his desk, trying to find some grounding with little success. König crouched over, resting his forehead on the table next to your head, his nose buried into the dip between your neck and shoulder, inhaling lungfuls of your sweet scent through dense fabric of his balaclava.

One of your trembling hands came to cup side of his head, rubbing it soothingly - your movements were a bit awkward due to your positioning, but sweet nevertheless. How could you be like this? Despite all harsh treatment you received before, mean words and actions, you still were so sweet with him.

- I’m sorry, - König murmured quietly, placing a kiss on your shoulder. His mouth was still covered by black balaclava, but you understood what he meant to do. - I’m so sorry.

- It’s okay, - you uttered, you voice shaky and small, arousal muddling up your thoughts.

You wriggled your hips impatiently, prompting your Colonel to move. And he complied, wringing one mind blowing orgasm out of you after another, throwing you around the table however he pleased, trying to make amends for all of his bitching to you.

Surely, it was not enough to pay you off for his horrible behavior, but König try his hardest to make it up to his sweet little sniper<3

AWWWWWWWWWW

Hear Me Out

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Natasha develops a bit of a crush on Shield’s interpreter, and it just so happens that her best friend, Clint, has an in with the woman for her….

A/N: I actually minored in Deaf Studies in college, and that little end bit with Natasha is based on an actual mistake I made in my class lmao.

Cheese / Movie | Sorry / Please | Bad / Bitch

W/C: 3,788

"Why am I here again?" Clint grumbled as he sidled himself up to Natasha as she stood just off stage. "Because, Steve is off on a mission and there's no way I was doing this alone."

Clint rolled his eyes as he saw his best friends smirk grow while watching the stage, she was taunting him for being so easy to manipulate.

"Next time you call, I'm sending you straight to voicemail." Natasha shrugged, "I'll call Laura."

Clint was about to rebut her threat, but then he was caught off guard by seeing you on stage.

"Why's Y/N here?"

Natasha followed his gaze to your face, and her heart momentarily stopped. Y/N... Now she knew your name, and yet it wasn't enough.

——

It had been months since she first noticed you, she was instantly drawn to your beauty, but due to the nature of your connected jobs she felt it would be unprofessional to approach. With every passing event though she felt as her resolve was steadily crumbling, especially since you flashed her a gorgeous smile in passing at the last one. She damn near swooped you then.

"You know her?"

Clint smiled, "She's my Shield appointed interpreter, she bridges the gap between me and others in my situation while also teaching the family and I ASL." His smile dropped into a frown the more he thought about the situation. "Does she do every Avengers press release?"

"Mostly," Natasha replied with understanding in her tone. "Leave it to Fury to double dip."

"Now I feel bad that she spends every Monday to Wednesday with me." Natasha interrupted, "Oh wow, poor girl." Clint shoulder bumped her then went on, "Then she's at the farm every other weekend." Natasha frowned, in part because she didn't know if you could be trusted, but also, because she was jealous.

"Don't worry, I vetted her myself, she's clean."

Natasha's shoulders lost their tenseness, but she still kept a scowl as she realized she had always had an in with you. But since Clint was primarily retired she'd been left out of the loop with just how often she'd been on missions.

"She's single," he teased, Natasha could never hide her feelings from him. "That's cool," but she would be damned if she wouldn't try.

He sighed, ready to give her a little pep talk, but then the crowd roared with applause and he saw you were carefully descending the stage.

"Y/N!" Natasha glared at him, but fortunately you didn't catch it as you happily trotted over. You smiled, but only waved in greeting.

"I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Nat."

"Natasha," the redhead cooly corrected.

You titled your head, and furrowed your brows. Natasha watched in amusement when Clint knowingly huffed as he watched you. With your pointer finger you tapped your chest, then rose it to flick at the sky while shaking your head.

You understood him just fine...

Clint rolled his eyes, then did his very best to sign his introduction once more. Your eyes lit up at his improvements, and Natasha watched the older mans eyes also beaming with pride. She was certain she needed to know you now, because the old man was as a certified grump, but you still managed to make him smile.

"I'm Y/N," you finally spoke, and the redhead nearly fell to her knees at your voice. You had extended your hand out in greeting, but she was too enamored by you as a whole. So, you awkwardly cleared your throat while going to pull it away but she latched on just in time.

"Natasha," she finally offered her name, even though you knew it from not only Clint's intro, but also because you worked for her boss.

"I know," you giggled, and allowed her to keep holding onto your hand well beyond the shake. "You're kind of who I was defending on stage."

The redhead blushed and Clint was speechless.

"Right," she chuckled, and felt her entire body warm from embarrassment. Then, you gently squeezed her hand and she realized she had yet to let it go. Which only made her feel hotter.

The redhead dropped it, and if she wasn't so mortified by her horrible game she'd have seen the way you momentarily frowned at the loss.

"It's lovely to finally meet you Natasha, Clinton here has told me so much about you." You ratted the old man out for his gossiping. Nat narrowed her eyes at the man, curious on his intentions to have ever mentioned her to you.

"Don't worry, it's nothing too bad," you teased her and she met your eyes to see the honesty. "I'd stick around and get to know you myself, but unfortunately I have to meet with Fury, and sign yet another NDA since agents can't seem to keep their mouths shut around me."

"I'm sure Fury can wait," Natasha blurted, and that shocked all three of you. Clint smirked, Natasha's gaze fell to the ground, and you couldn't stop smiling thinking about how she wanted you to stay. The hand holding, and blush were not enough to convince you that the attraction was mutual, but now, you grew sure.

"He very well could," you theorized playfully, and the redhead looked to you with a smile. "But we all know that it's a bad idea to keep the director waiting. Then he'd be faced with the realization that his busy schedule is a facade."

The best friend duo laughed, both innately aware of the truth in your words. Fury spent his days doing a whole lot of nothing while the rest of them actually did the bulk of it all.

"I'm sure I'll see you around," you spoke again, the hopeful tone not being missed by them. Natasha nodded, about to reply, then her voice stalled in her throat as your finger grazed on over her warm cheek to collect an eyelash.

"Make a wish," you'd commanded playfully, and the redhead didn't question your childish behavior. She simply closed her eyes, wished for you, then blew the curl off your fingertip.

"What did you wish for?" Clint asked, and you watched the woman grow tense. "She can't say Clint, or else it won't come true." Natasha's eyes flitted back to you, and her body calmed. "Exactly, if you knew what's best for you, you would listen to the pretty woman Barton."

You gasped at her words, and nearly lost all of your composure, making Natasha slyly smirk.

"I'll see you this weekend," you'd signed to Clint, then left with a nervous smile and wave.

"Don't even," Natasha threatened through gritted teeth, and Clint laughed wildly. "Oh, Laura is going to be so ecstatic at the news."

Natasha left the man in the dust, literally, she drove off in her Corvette just as he made it and left him without a way back to the compound. Nevertheless, he continued to smile over the interaction as he walked back. He got into his car and left towards home, not even saying goodbye to the dramatic, fuming redhead.

He knew that he would be seeing her soon...

—

"Y/N!" You caught the little girl with ease as she ran down the familiar steps of her home. Lila began to ramble incessantly about her week, knowing the rules of silence affected her just as soon as the door was closed behind you.

You always took your time with entering just for her sake. The rules were important, it was the only real way any of them would adapt to the changes that came with Clint's steadily declining hearing. Immersive practices were truly the best when learning a new language.

"Ooh, and Nate got in so much trouble yesterday, because he flushed my dolls head down the toilet. Dad was so mad! Oh, and..."

Just as you went to open the creaky door you heard the slamming of a metal one behind you. Before you could even turn to inspect who it could be you got your answer as the little girl shimmied out of your arms and shrieked.

"Auntie Nat!"

Your entire body warmed when you turned to see her catch the girl just the same as you did. It was a bit soon to picture it, but you couldn't stop your mind from wandering off to thoughts of her maybe one day catching your own kids.

Neither of you had even confessed your crush's and here you were seeing wedding bells; always doomed to be the hopeless romantic it seems.

Little did you know Natasha felt the same way when she watched you with Lila from her car. For a brief moment she was jealous that the little girl looked so happy with you, that was her precious Lila-Bear after all, but then her heart skipped in realization that you'd already won all of the people that mattered over.

Except for Yelena, but she'd likely save that encounter for years down the line if she could. The last thing she needed was for the blonde to run you off before she ever got a real chance.

Turns out you already knew Wanda too, her other bestie, you'd been there for her after a bombing led her to a hearing scare. When Nat mentioned you last night the witch squealed, and begged her not to fuck this opportunity up.

Natasha had scoffed, acting nonchalantly about the possibility of a future, but her heart racing was a sign to the witch that she wanted it bad.

Once the redhead was stood before you it was like your mind was catching up to the moment. Natasha's hand fell to your shoulder, and offered you a bright smile. "We meet again."

"It's almost as if you planned this," you teased and she glared defensively. "It was my weekend off, it is only a coincidence that you're here."

"Oh," you chuckled awkwardly, completely thrown by the sudden change in demeanor. "Well, I'll make sure I stay out of your way."

Natasha internally slapped herself, she had no reason to be upset, but she was embarrassed by your ability to understand why she was here.

"You're bad at this Auntie Nat," Lila noted, then dropped down to follow you back inside.

"Y/N, wait." Natasha tried, but she was met instead with Nate glaring up at her with his tiny finger to his lips. He was shushing her.

Next to greet her was Laura, who pulled her in for a hug and whispered, "Welcome to the dome of silence, you can undo your blunder later—start by not being so defensive."

Natasha rubbed her eyes, and cursed under her breath in her mother tongue, only to be shushed once again by a smirking Clint.

Before she could retaliate (pummel the man) you'd flipped the power off, then on a few times to signal to the Barton's that it was time for congregating in silence. Natasha followed, and took a seat in the far off corner to observe the ways in which you taught the lot of them ASL.

It was amusing from the very start, she could see just why the wary kids loved you so much. The language was something you held respect for in your soul, but you also knew kids needed fun to focus. So, you almost found a way to make it a game of charades when the topics allowed you to. Clint and Laura worked out of a workbook for the most part, it was more like you were a tutor that sidelined as a babysitter.

Natasha watched your face, and how you were emoting so clearly. Every sign came with an expression, something you wouldn't see much of in spoken languages as inflection worked wonders to let others know your moods. In this instance she realized it was you setting a tone.

Today you were teaching them a handful of new words, and using clear feelings to do so.

You'd started with— "I feel," and signed cold, which you dramatized as you wrapped a scarf around your neck before lifting your bent arms in front of you, and shivered. Even Natasha had figured the word out, but that wasn't the answer, because as you saw the kids sign "I understand," you went on to sign "Why?"

Lila giddily raised her hand, body squirming in her seat as she quickly finger-spelled S-N-O-W.

You smiled wide, and signed good before you took your hands and imitated snow fall, your fingers fluttered as you swayed your hands down, then you pointed to your pointer finger, and the kids knew you wanted another word.

Cooper finger-spelled R-A-I-N, and you pursed your lips. Your hand took the shape of a Y, then moved from side to side, then your brow raised as your pointer fingers gently touched before separating fast. A quick way to say they were similar signs, but different in the same breath. Then you signed it and urged them for more.

Natasha already knew the alphabet, and with her spy training she missed nothing so she actually followed along rather easily with you. The widow quite enjoyed learning along with the kids, the words were relatively meaningless to her, but every word was necessary to life.

What really caught her attention was the little boy who'd shushed her earlier using his voice.

Nate was too young to engage in your playful immersive ways like the other two as he hadn't known how to spell yet. So you'd offer him photos after his siblings would spell out their guesses, and he would always get to shout the correct answer to you. To which you'd nod, wink at the older kids, then remind him to keep his lips zipped after as he hung off your back.

Nate snickered when your eyes bulged as you pulled the invisible zipper across your face. His imagination allowed him to believe that your lips were to some extent being zipped shut.

When you moved on to let the kids get ready for bed, you'd focused in on the parental unit.

Natasha gratefully caught your attention just before you settled into a conversation. Your face was rather solemn, and she cringed at the lack of your usual smile—she'd already grown obsessed with the simple gesture of yours.

She offered you a simple smile, and signed I'm sorry, or at least she thought she did, but really she said please and you took it as an apology. You'd merely winked and threw a thumbs up, your version of a rushed "it's okay," before you shifted to face an impatient (eager) Laura.

You were never actually offended by her earlier outburst, you actually found it quite funny.

Laura signed the lesson with you as if she had already known the material before you ever arrived. Part of you thinks she had the book and read ahead to show off, but the other part of you knew just by a glance she was brilliant.

Once you felt satisfied you nodded at her, and she traipsed off upstairs to help the kids finish up their bedtime routines. Then came your time with the struggling Archer, whom of which was the reason for these sorts of visits.

This is when Natasha's attention fell to her phone, you were no longer being silly, and truth be told she felt she needed to do some studying of her own to win your heart over.

Clint held up to your challenges, he signed with a sort of choppy elegance that matched him. Sometimes his signs would be angled wrong, and you would freeze the moment to remind him that sometimes a mistake like that could get him a black eye. For instance, bitch and bad were not too similar, but if you blinked it could be misconstrued, and somehow Clint found a way to confuse them often enough for you to need warn him. Not that he, an actual Avenger, had too much to worry much about.

Any Deaf person would be able to understand his flukes, but you feared he'd still get a stern scolding from the wrong person in a crowd.

Something you knew he'd take with a scowl.

After a half hour with the grumpy man you'd told him he was free to go. He literally jumped up, and lifted you into a grateful embrace as he spoke in a huff, "Fucking finally, I am tired."

"Language!" Laura and Natasha parroted Steve's infamous, inside joke, it spread around Shield so much that even you understood it.

The freshly cleaned up kids all ran into your body in some capacity, Lila smashed her chin into your stomach and pouted up at you. "Don't go?" You ruffled the little girls damp hair and smiled sadly at her. "I'll be back Lila, you guys won't even have a chance to miss me."

"I miss you all the time," Nate corrected you. Cooper jumped in next, pouting just the same, "You're like the coolest adult we know Y/N!"

Natasha scoffed, "I thought that was me!"

Cooper shrugged, and the other kids giggled. "You're our favorite Auntie, deal with it."

"Yeah Natasha, deal with it," you teased her with that pretty grin of yours just before you turned around to give each kid a final hug.

Natasha watched with an adoring smile, her eyes swirling with joy, and a twinge of hope. Clint caught her, and sent a teasing wink her way, but even that didn't stop her from gazing.

"Alright, it was lovely to see you again Y/N, please don't be a stranger," she winked at Natasha while hugging you tightly. "Get home safely please darling, obey the traffic laws."

Clint laughed, "Way to be a mom honey." He gulped as she glared, then patted you on the shoulder quickly before racing off after her to apologize, and help her settle the kids down.

The room was abruptly quiet again, and even with the palpable tension, it wasn't that bad. You moved around the room collecting your materials while Nat quietly observed you, she was building up her courage to approach you before you could leave the house completely.

Natasha politely tapped you on the arm, and you turned your head to peer over your shoulder to see her nervous smile. She swirled her hand about, you got the message and turned to face her fully, you nodded to confirm your full attention was hers so she lifted her hands to attempt to ask you out on a date.

Natasha shakily pointed at you, then back to herself to essentially say "You and me". She had no idea how to really do this, so she kept her Google search for signs at a minimum. The next thing she did was point her fingers out in the distance, something you understood easily.

The tricky part came when she put her hands together, the redhead tried her hardest to ask you to go to the movies with her, but she missed the mark by a simple position of hands. 

"Sure, brie or cheddar?" Natasha blinked in confusion, her hands fell in defeat, and she looked completely disheartened. "What?"

"You just asked me to go to cheese with you."

"Oh my god," she groaned, her reddening face covered by her hands in an instant, but you didn't let her steep in her shame. Much like the first meeting you had her hands in yours, and you squeezed them in hopes of comforting her. Judging by the way her eyes glimmered you knew she was grateful for the gesture.

“Of course I’ll go to the movies with you.”

“You understood but still did that?”

You chuckled, “It was too easy not to.” The redhead dropped your hand then softly nudged your shoulder, “You are really such a tease.”

“Just wait for the date,” you winked, and the woman felt her body warm at the implications.

"Let me know when, and I'll meet you there?" Natasha frowned as she shook her head with absolute urgency. "No, I want to pick you up if that's alright, we can get dinner together first."

"Then pick me up next Friday at seven Nat," you leaned in and placed a sweet kiss to her raised cheek and tried to hide your grin at the blooming warmth felt just beneath your lips. Then you got into your car, and she hung into the window instantly to keep you a little longer.

"I'll need your number krasivaya," her tone was even raspier when she spoke in her mother tongue and she could see by the widening of your eyes that she had an upper-hand here. "It'll be hard to get in touch without it detka."

With a steady as can be hand you slid your phone into hers, allowing her to send herself a text message. As you took your phone back you saw she'd sent herself a selfie, you narrowed your eyes, and she shrugged. "I need a contact photo, and didn't really want to wait."

"So you invaded my privacy instead?" You teased the woman, no bite at all behind your words, so she once again shrugged. "You're very beautiful Y/N, you can't blame me right? It's honestly a shame I hadn't met you earlier."

"You know, you had ample opportunity," you giggled, and softly pushed her out of the car. "But you needed your best friends help."

"Hey...."

"Goodnight Natasha, I expect a gorgeous selfie in return, you know, for your contact." You winked knowingly before revving your engine and taking your leave only seconds later.

"That woman is going to actually kill me." The redhead held her hand over her racing heart as you drove away, it wasn't until your car was the size of an ant that it had begun to settle down.

"Jeez Nat, you're whipped!" Natasha turned to Clint with a tilted head, a move of Wanda's, while wearing her signature sideways smirk. Her narrowed eyes alone spoke of danger, but then her fingers formed the shape of L's, and she linked them and pulled them like a trigger.

Her research expanded beyond your wooing to include the torment of her dearest old friend.

Clint knew better than to ignore her threats, and took off in an instant... Natasha's laughter echoed in the dark fields, and mocked the man.

"I can't wait to have someone to complain about those two with," Laura chuckled to herself as she settled onto the porch swing with a glass of wine at the ready to help her unwind.

"Godspeed to Y/N though, that poor girl hasn’t a single clue what she is in for."

——

loveddd it

your sweater | n. romanoff

natasha romanoff x spider!reader synopsis: for as long as natasha knew you, you had a grey sweater that had slowly become hers. all that she was left to do, was to make its owner hers, too. word count: 8.6k a/n: this can be read as a prequel to is there someone else? but functions perfectly well as a one-shot too! masterlist

For as long as Natasha knew you, you had a grey sweater that had slowly become hers. She first felt it around her shoulders the night you and Clint called off the mission of killing her to rescue her instead; your warmth and scent enveloping her in the most comforting hug she had ever experienced. In the freezing hotel room during the winter of Budapest, Natasha thought you giving up your own sweater for her was the kindest thing anyone could do, the first nice thing anyone ever did for her. 

You were freezing too, as she watched your body shivering sleeping right beside her. But you were still proudly claiming that your suit had inbuilt heaters to keep you warm, one of the many good things about working for SHIELD, you would say. It was your smile, and the already familiar scent of the sweater around her, that slowly lulled Natasha to sleep that night. 

Later on, Clint had grumbled to her that he knew you designed your own suits, and he definitely knew that there was no heating technology whatsoever in them. 

–

The sweater burned on her back as she watched you in flames just days later. You were pinned under a huge slab of concrete, after the escape plan of luring, and subsequently bombing, Dreykov’s offices took a turn. You had gotten injured fighting off a Widow protecting Dreykov, and while your spider-senses still worked to push Natasha far away from the blast, it wasn’t enough to pull yourself away safely in time. 

You struggled under the weight, crying out in pain as flames engulfed you and began burning through your skin. The air was thick and heavy, and Natasha found herself already covering her mouth to bite back through the choking sensation and the tears springing to her eyes. 

She couldn’t do it any longer. It physically hurt to watch you die, and she was never trained to have feelings. Efficiency, ruthlessness, these were ingrained in her from young. Watching people die should become second nature to her. So when Natasha turned around, and began running in the opposite direction to safety, she drowned out your cries with the sweater pulled over her fists to muffle her ears. 

But not even a few seconds later, where she was on the edge of the building and ready to jump, it was as if her own legs betrayed her, her head turning back one last time to look. And there you still were, face red, arms growing tired, and the flames quickly enveloping you away from her. The weight of the sweater burdened her even further. 

Natasha didn’t know which part of humanity left in her persuaded her to run back, and help to lift the slab of concrete off of you. You were choking and wheezing, but managed to squeeze through under the crack that she had managed to lift off of. Natasha’s guilt intensified when you smiled at her, muttering a quick thanks before finding a nearby building to zip the both of you to. 

She knew you knew she almost left without you, but when you were questioned on her loyalty later on in SHIELD, you stood firmly by her side. In your recounting of events, she had never tried betraying you and had the first instinct to save you, instead. 

–

“Why’d you do it?” 

“Do what?”

You were walking her to her newly assigned room, the first night of her new life. It was right beside yours, upon your request, and you were telling her something about connected rooms when she interrupted you. 

“Lie for me, back there. I know you know I tried to leave you there.” Her fingers fidgeted nervously against your sweater she still had on. 

You shrugged, unlocking the door and letting her inside. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here. Fury trusts me, and…I trust you.”

The room was spacious, almost too spacious. Almost the size of her entire apartment in Budapest, it strangely felt empty, and cold. Almost sterile. But then you laughed at her stiffness and reluctance, and showed her the door right next to her bathroom; it was a connecting door to your room. 

“See? Connected, like I told you. My side of the door will always be open for you, please come in if you ever need anything. I’ll be here.”

She peeked into your own room, and the warmth and safety of it mirrored the sweater she was donning on at that moment. 

–

Natasha mostly kept to herself in the first week of being at SHIELD, and while you gave her space to figure out the start of everything new in her life, you knew that she was, after all, scared and alone. 

You saved her a seat at breakfast every morning, but Natasha only showed on the first day. The other agents were giving her questionable looks, dirty stares, and the pressure of it all was breathing down her neck. Your kindness shone through, but it felt like it wasn’t enough. 

You would use the gym in the morning, and while you spotted Natasha there on her second day, you also watched as she left abruptly after the other agents began using the space in the later part of the morning. From then on, you instructed them to come just a little bit later, so she would have more time to herself in the gym. She never minded you around, however. 

And when there was a cocktail party being held at the bar nearby, you considered inviting Natasha. But then an old injury of yours flared just hours before the party, and you had resigned to just staying in your room for the night. The other agents had made fun of you, you remembered, as the hushed whispers and muffled laughs became more prominent through the week. 

“Got you wrapped right around her finger, huh?” One of your friends had said, to which you rolled your eyes too. “Who would’ve known, you of all people, with the KGB agent.”

“She’s not KGB anymore,” you corrected, before sending a middle finger their way as they departed for the party. 

–

When the faint chatter from the television became a low hum of a background noise for you, however, you found your eyelids drooping and sleep beginning to take you away. It was nearly midnight, and you presumed Natasha must have gone out on her own as well. You were probably alone in that whole tower.

Still, you heard it. And if you didn’t hear it, your spider senses definitely picked up on it, as another presence was felt in the room. You jolted out of bed at the proximity, and when your eyes opened blearily, there Natasha was; standing over your bed and watching you sleep. 

If it wasn’t so creepy and surprising, you would have treated her with more kindness than a, “Why are you watching me sleep?!”

Natasha looked solemn, as if in deep thought. Your senses were tingling, but no danger was detected, and you slowly lowered the sheets as you sat up to face her. “Natasha? Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t expected her to bring a familiar piece of clothing out from behind her, presenting it to you. Your grey sweater that you had lent her the night you met. 

“What detergent do you use to wash this?” Then, in a quieter, smaller voice, she continued, “I like the smell.”

Natasha quietly followed as you led her to the laundry room, then watched even more intently as you washed the next load of your laundry next to hers, the detergent now a shared commodity between the both of you. You watched her with tenderness as she pored over the machines churning while the both of you waited for your laundry together. 

Though your sweater never really smelled the same, Natasha enjoyed the frequent appointments to do laundry together after that night. 

– 

In your first mission together, Natasha entered into a disagreement with one of the other agents on how things were supposed to be run. The team was ganged up on her, but when you stepped in as mission leader in her favour, the choice was quickly overruled to Natasha’s decision instead.

Later on, Natasha caught wind of one of the agents whispering under her breath, accusing her of trying to seduce you, and when the words of dirty KGB slipped loose from their lips, she quickly stormed out of the common area, the slam of the door an indication to the others that their target recipient had been reached. 

Then, at night, as they walked past her sleeping quarters, one of them saw her wearing your sweater to sleep again, and the laughter that reverberated through the walls haunted her in her sleep. Tears pricked at her eyes as she cried angrily to sleep, the sobs wracking her body as she tried to cry as quietly as she could. She hates herself for being the way she is, hates that she is associated with the KGB still, hates herself for even finding comfort in your damn sweater, the one thing she thought would never be so rudely highlighted to her. 

The next morning, you found the grey sweater stuffed with your belongings. Thrown haphazardly over your own clothes, you already knew who owned it, and was surprised that it was being returned to you. When you caught wind of what happened, however, you chased Natasha down immediately.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you pushed the article of clothing back to her, insisting she hold on to it, “You should keep it.”

“They’re already accusing me of things I would never do to you.” Natasha’s eyes averted your gaze, afraid her voice would waver if she looked at you. 

A hint of a frown appeared on your lips, before you reverted back to the smile, the special smile reserved just for her, and stuffed the sweater back into her arms. “I want you to keep it. I will have a talk with the other agents. You should never be embarrassed about things that make you happy, Nat.”

It was the first time anyone had ever given her a loving nickname.

–

After the incident, Natasha quickly realises that the other agents seemed afraid of her. They no longer talk in hushed whispers about her, no longer tried to steal her spots at breakfast or use her equipment in the gym, no longer tried to sabotage her missions. It was a strange feeling to suddenly be left alone. 

“She got mad at them,” Clint told her one day, when she found another agent yet again scurrying away from an equipment she was intending to use, “They’re scared of her, so now they’re scared of you too.”

Natasha also realises that she has never seen you angry. “What’s she like? When she’s mad?”

Clint scoffed, before shaking his head. “The scariest thing I have ever seen. And I’ve known her for years.”

–

The sweater burned on her back again, this time with her skin on fire, as Natasha watched the team of agents gathering below her. It was after a mission, and while she opted to go ahead and freshen up first, the group began interrogating you on the dependent relationship the both of you have had from the start. 

When someone finally asked the question of whether you had feelings for her, Natasha watched your body freeze for a minute, before relaxing and nodding your head, sheepishly saying yes. 

She didn’t know why, but she suddenly found herself gripping the ends of the railings with a death grip, anger coursing through her veins at your declaration of having a crush on her. 

–

“You should get married.”

Natasha was sitting in Fury’s office then, at her wit’s end on how exactly the KGB kept finding her. It was like she could never truly escape, and the team was running out of ideas on how to keep her hidden safely. 

She gave him an incredulous look, before he held up a hand to let him finish. “Get yourself a green card, become an American citizen. That, combined with your SHIELD involvement, will mean that they can never touch you. Ever again.”

“Who would even want to marry me?” She bitterly laughed, but Fury’s expression never changed. 

“I can think of someone.”

“No. She wouldn’t be as stupid as that. She wouldn’t say yes.” Suddenly, she was very afraid of your answer. Would you say yes? Would you actually agree to marry her? Surely you held yourself in higher regard than that. Surely you knew you deserve better. 

But when Fury brought you in later, and popped the question nonchalantly, you thought about it for a moment, before merely shrugging, and saying, “Sure.”

Natasha found it shocking that you spared no second thoughts, no reservations, no doubts about what marrying her would mean, when you were always so calculated and pragmatic in missions. 

–

You insisted on bringing her dress shopping, a week before your set wedding date. Natasha never dreamt of ever getting the wonderful opportunity to get married. 

So as she stared at the piles and piles of wedding dresses the shop assistant had prompted her to try on, while you waited patiently outside, she found herself almost tearing up. It was all too real, and all too much like a dream too. She couldn’t have even fathomed of a life outside the Red Room just a year ago, and now here she was picking a wedding dress and getting married to perhaps the most wonderful person she knew. 

Rain began to pour when the both of you stepped out of the bridal shop, and Natasha noticed the way you would let her walk on the sidewalks to prevent nearby cars from soaking her as they drove past, noticed the way you tilted the umbrella ever so slightly to shield more of her body from the rain, noticed your arms around her shoulder to keep her close to you. 

You were shivering again, after the both of you found shelter later on. But when Natasha offered to take off the grey sweater she had on to warm up your drenched body, you flat-out refused. 

“You’re going to die from hypothermia,” she bluntly stated, already irritated at your refusal to let her take care of you for once. 

“Nonsense,” you grinned through chattering teeth, “I’ll be fine. Plus, that sweater has always looked better on you than it did on me.”

Natasha’s cheeks reddened at the compliment, and her hands shook slightly as she brought her body closer to yours, hoping some of her body heat could transfer onto you, too. 

–

Natasha remembered her vow as short, and as impersonal as it got, coming from the Internet, but you were still smiling at her like she put the stars in the sky throughout her speech. She knew she didn’t deserve you. 

Your vow highlighted everything you loved about her as a person, and although it was short and sweet, Natasha found herself biting her lip as hard as she could throughout, trying not to make eye contact with you in fear of what would happen to the tears welling up behind her eyes. 

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. The both of you said ‘I do’s. 

You leaned in to kiss her first, and while Natasha was afraid of what it would feel like to have your lips on hers, you had only pressed them together briefly, respecting her fear and space of having a wedding out of necessity. However, she swore in that brief, fleeting moment, her heart thrummed louder than she thought it was possible in her chest, and sparks flew, somewhere in the back of her mind that she kept safe, the space she reserved for her growing feelings for you. 

After the wedding, Natasha found herself even angrier at the confirmation that she was not only attracted to you, but also falling in love with you. 

–

In the grand, palatial space of the hotel room the two of you shared later on that night, however, it was not the lust-filled, sensual moans that filled the air of the room. Instead, the creaking of the bed and the moans were filled with your agony and Natasha’s anger, as her hands wrapped tightly around your neck, fingers almost blue with how hard she was holding you. 

The breath had been knocked out of your lungs much earlier, and your face was already turning purple as Natasha spat out threats above you. 

“I will never, ever, fall for someone as stupid, and kind, as you. I will never reciprocate your feelings. I will never want to be your wife in any other circumstances. You are to treat me like a colleague, you are not going to treat me any differently than the other agents, and you are not to ever show your feelings for me, ever! Do you understand?” 

You could only see the outline of your sweater draped over the back of the armchair, the life almost leaving your body if Natasha held on a second longer. 

The woman was on the brink of killing you, but all you could zero in on was that damn sweater. It really never leaves her shoulders. 

In the silence of Natasha’s threats, she saw you smile at her, nodding your compliance. 

–

You needed to keep your distance, you knew. You had been perfectly compliant to Natasha’s demands; treating her just as you would your friends, declaring as loud as she did that the marriage was fake and you were both very much not together, even to the extent of agreeing for her to switch her room with Steve’s at the far end of the halls. You tried your best to swallow your pain and frustrations, and as far as Natasha knew, the facade you kept had made it easier for her to ignore her feelings for you too. 

Still, she knew you looked out for her. She felt completely safe in missions together with you, and there was no one else in the team she would trust so wholeheartedly with her life. You made sure she had a voice in SHIELD, made sure she was never outcast or swept aside from any team the both of you shared. Everything, as far as appearances mattered, was fine between the two of you. 

Everything until the battle of New York. 

–

In the Quinjet home, you had already noticed her frustrations. Everyone was exhausted, battered and bruised from perhaps the biggest mission you had ever undertaken in your life, but still you noticed the way Natasha was tapping her foot repeatedly by her seat, fingernails pressing deep into her palm as she tried steadying herself. 

When she briskly brushed past the group to head straight to her room first, Tony had shrugged her off with a wonder what’s up with her? Clint gave you a knowing look, but you assured the group with an instruction to just give her space. When it came to Natasha, you were her best interpreter. 

However, when she failed to show up for dinner even for the following night, your concern had begun to spread from her just being battle-weary to something more. The team watched you pick at your food for all of fifteen minutes, before leaving abruptly to find her. 

“Natasha, is everything alright?” You knew she was behind her door the second your senses tingled of her presence. 

A few beats of silence went by, before she mumbled, “I don’t want to go for dinner.”

You leaned your forehead against the door. “That’s alright. I brought some granola bars from the pantry if you’re hungry.”

Natasha failed to reply this time. You prompted, “Natasha, can I come in?”

“They’ll hate me.”

“They?”

“The team,” her voice sounded muffled now, as if buried between her arms, “They’ll think I’m avoiding them.”

“They don’t, I can assure you that much.” 

“They don’t know me like you do.” You bit the corner of your mouth at the slight affection in her voice, reminding yourself to suppress your feelings to always protect hers. 

Then, she whispered, “The door’s unlocked.”

You found her on the floor upon your entry. She was sitting with her back to the foot of her bed, tear tracks running down her cheek. Your sweater was engulfing her entire frame, and her wet hair framed the red eyes that were glued onto the television, playing a Disney movie on mute. 

Natasha tore her eyes from the screen to look at you, and you gave her the warmest smile you could. That damn smile. She looked away again. 

You sat next to her, shoulders pressing against hers. Natasha wondered how you weren’t disgusted with her, and all of her past that she had shown through your first major battle together. You had watched her kill, interrogate, and torture, in order to get what she needed, and you were still looking at her like she put the stars in the sky. 

“You know, Clint tripped over one of his own arrows at target practice today,” you began, as Natasha reached out for the granola bar you offered, “Fell flat on his face right in front of me and Maria. It was hilarious, an archer with the agility of an elephant.”

The hint of a smile on Natasha’s face was all it took for you to continue, triumphant with your efforts to help get her mind off things. “And Maria laughed so hard that snot came out of her nose. God, it was so embarrassing, she tried to cover her face with my mask when word got around. I lent it to her, of course, with the warning that if she ever tried laughing in it she would have to make me a new one from scratch if snot even got on it.”

Her smile grew wider. Her own shoulders finally relaxing, Natasha fell into her new habit of laying her head on your shoulder, arms slung around yours. You patted the hand that was shaking above yours. 

You knew you were her safe space. Natasha loved the safety and patience no one else was ever willing to give her. And so when your heartbeats synced and Natasha felt the words at the tip of her tongue, she had to ask, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“A granola monster, maybe.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, as a sharp jab was aimed at your side. You pointed out all the crumbs she was leaving on the floor as you clutched it later on. 

“I’m serious. You’ve seen my case file, you knew who I was before all this, you know of what I’ve done and now, what I can do–”

“–And yet, I still think you are the most honest, kind, and caring person I’ve ever known.” You finished her sentence, leaving Natasha stunned. She studied your face for any sign of a bluff. You stared at her right back. 

And suddenly, her arms were around your neck, her body on top of yours, as the woman pulled you into the tightest, bone-crushing hug you’ve ever had. Speechless, to say the least, you again swallowed the rapid beating in your chest to hug her back, knowing what she needed then. 

“You did well. The mission was a success, and you came home alive. That’s all that matters. You don’t need to be afraid of yourself, or what others would think about you, Natasha. You’re one of us now. And if anyone ever tries to make you feel otherwise, you know you’ll have me. I’m on your side, always.”

That night, Natasha fell in love with the feeling of your arms around her, and unsurprisingly, it replaced the comfort of only having your sweater on her back. 

–

Natasha told you about the Red Room in the months after. She was your best friend now, and you were everything to her. She told you about her family, about Yelena, about how she still felt like an intruder to the Avengers sometimes. You always told her she belonged right from the start. 

She told you about ballet, and when you asked if she could teach you, the tears that welled in her eyes hadn’t been one from her being touched. You knew immediately and shot down the idea. That night, she told you that it was one of the worst things about being in the Red Room. She fell asleep crying in your arms at the memories it triggered. 

She was an insomniac, and you quickly learned that she preferred your balcony’s views over hers. Not that the view was better, but the glow from your room surrounded her in the warmth you always handled her with. She told you it was because yours was quieter. She liked her quiet time, but she liked it better when you sat beside her in those times. You noticed she wanted you around almost everywhere now. 

You knew everyone else did too, and if you allowed yourself hope, you would listen to their endless teasing of how much Natasha had fallen for you, too. 

–

Natasha was waiting for you after your solo mission to Greece, where Clint had told her was too dangerous for anyone below your clearance to even attempt. She had argued with Fury on sending you out there alone, but he reasoned back that sending two people would raise too much suspicion. She couldn’t argue with the logic, and was stuck with just the agony of waiting for your return. 

She bolted back from training the moment she heard you were coming back, waiting by the Quinjet landing zone for your jet. She ignored the looks from the other agents at her enthusiasm, waiting for the other Avengers to join her too. 

Steve came shortly after, but she was already pacing around and wondering why you were almost an hour late. He gave her a knowing look, she pleaded with him to not mention anything. She couldn’t say it into words, but she was thankful he understood. 

“Romanoff, she’s already in the building. The jet got destroyed on her way home.” Fury came only half an hour later, sparing her of her anxiousness at your lateness. 

“D-Destroyed?”

Fury nodded. “She told me it was hard coming home, but she’s here now. Saw her clearance card tapped into our systems, must be in here somewhere.”

Natasha knew where you were. You hated the medical wing of the building, and there was only one place you would return to after exhausting missions. Steve hugged her shoulder reassuringly, and left her to find you alone.

–

Your senses were still overloaded and shocking you all over from the hypersensitivity and trauma from the mission, so when your door unlocked with Natasha’s clearance, your brain failed to register she wasn’t a threat, and a web was immediately shot to glue her hand to your door. 

She flinched, but when you turned and saw it was her, you knew she was as surprised as you were to see each other. You, because you weren’t expecting anyone to come find you so quickly after a mission, and her, because of the bandage rolls you were wrapping around yourself, and the cuts and bruises that littered your body. 

You were bare, and vulnerable, and exactly two breaths were exchanged in the time it took for Natasha to register her shock, and you to formulate your response. “To be fair, I thought I would have more time to look more…uninjured.”

The lithe muscles under the purple marks, the way your abs flexed as you turned to face her, the cut across your cheek that only highlighted your cheekbones even more to her. The beads of perspiration across your skin. Natasha’s face immediately grew red hot, and you were even more confused. 

“Y-You…”

“Natasha, it’s really not as bad as it looks,” you tried to smile, but the cut on your upper lip stung when you stretched it too far. 

She still stared at you. You suddenly felt tiny, unsure of yourself under her scrutiny. Has she never seen a naked body before? 

“I should–” You were cut off with her suddenly rushing forward, and instinctively, you reached your arms out to hold her. But Natasha fell into them naturally. It was her lips pressing against yours that you couldn’t prepare for. 

When Natasha kissed you, it wasn’t soft, or sweet, or gentle in the slightest. You were in the bedroom, and not the church, you knew, but when her teeth clashed against yours and you stumbled to fall back into the bed with how hard she chased your lips, you knew there was something else that she could never put into words. 

“Natasha–” You tried to reason, tried to ask if she was sure of what she was doing, but she simply shook her head, hand on your chest to silence you. 

“Do you want this?” She asked, biting the bottom of your lip. 

“I…”

“Do you want this?” She asked again. Her hands were travelling lower and lower, careful to avoid your biggest bruises. Your body reacted quicker than your brain could when she began to touch the wetness that had embarrassingly resulted from your kiss. 

“Yes.” 

“Me too,” she said, your sweater being thrown off her shoulders in the seconds after. Natasha cupped her hand over your mouth when you tried to ask her what she was doing, pinning you down on the bed and carving her name into your bones as you screamed it over and over throughout the night. 

–

Of course, the morning after, you caught her gathering her clothes at the edge of the room, and when she felt herself being watched, she had to turn around.

“This…last night…was meaningless,” she put on a brave front, though she didn’t know if she was convincing more of herself or you, “We’re still just…friends. Nothing more.”

You put on an even braver front, knowing the way she was. Your smile seemed to convince her, as you nodded briefly and told her you understood. 

Natasha noticed you didn’t say goodbye when she left, simply burying your head under the covers again. 

–

It became a routine; her coming to your room on late nights, and beyond the feeling of your arms around her, Natasha craved more and more. You were like an addiction, a vice she could never let go of. Celebrations, tragedies, the good, the bad, Natasha spent the night at your bed when anything happened, your cries of pleasure her dopamine for the night and her leaving your room the next morning your heartbreak for the day. 

It went on for months, and still, you couldn’t say anything. Natasha needed you, and who were you to deny her? 

You smiled at her each morning before she left, took care to conceal the hickeys she left on your skin, and always emphasised aftercare for her after your most intense sessions. In those moments, where the bath water had cooled and it was your hands rubbing the soft loofah all over her, her body fell back on yours, head on your shoulder again. She would look up occasionally to you, and the colour of your eyes would be all that was seared into her head for the rest of the night. 

You were so undeniably attractive, and kind, and perfect, and everything she didn’t deserve. She knew you would do anything for her, wait until the end of time until she was ready to tell you your feelings were reciprocated. It would be unfair to keep playing with your feelings, and entertaining hers, for so long. Natasha needed to put you out of your misery.

But no matter what, she could never fathom the idea of someone like her ever being together with someone like you. She was so hard to love, but you loved her like it was breathing. It was terribly unfair. 

She remembers so many times she has hurt your feelings from her own cowardice; but one particular event stood out. 

It had been Maria’s birthday party, where a deeply intoxicated Tony had spotted the two of you huddled in the far end of the lounge sofa, quietly in your own world of conversation. 

He had no one left to disturb, and upon intrusion into your personal space and drawing the eyes of everyone around, he had brazenly asked if the two of you planned on ever getting together, or if you were just going to force everyone to tolerate the sexual and romantic tension between the both of you for the rest of your lives. 

You had immediately looked away, of course, cheeks reddened and the grip on your drink tightening. Hoping to ignore Tony and praying that he would just go away quietly after his teasing, you didn’t expect Natasha to scoff instead. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s disgusting.” 

She was drunk too, evident from her slurring and constant invitations for the both of you to carry on the party in your bed instead, but the finality and pure disgust in her voice had you second-guessing your own senses. 

A roar of disapproval rampaged through the crowd, and upon their laughter and jeers, Natasha snuck a quick glance to see if your beautiful smile was stretched into a chuckle too. But your eyes were still averted, and only a hint of a sad smile appeared on your face. 

She didn’t know why her heart sank to her stomach at the sight of you refusing to make eye contact with her. 

—

When it became apparent that Bruce was interested in her too, Natasha made the irrational decision to not only tolerate his advances, but also entertain the idea of them being together instead. 

Perhaps it had been insecurity, or a curiosity for the scientist itself, but the Widow knew the real reason was that she needed to get her mind off of anyone but you. She knew whatever she had with you, she would never have with him, but still she chose him. 

The grey sweater of yours sat heavy in her overnight bag as she tells you of her decision to room with him in Clint’s barn. She feels hesitant to take it off when he tries to rip it from her the night they sleep together. She feels dirty in the morning after. She feels even worse when Tony teases her about the thin walls of the house at breakfast. 

She almost loses it when you come in to defend her, before asking if she slept well afterwards. She didn’t have the heart to tell you she clutched your sweater to sleep through her nightmares after Bruce had fallen into a deep slumber. 

— 

In the Quinjet home, she overhears Clint pulling you aside and telling you to just move on. She hadn’t meant to hear it; it was obviously a private moment between you and the archer where the other members were supposed to be asleep, but Natasha had wanted to seek your comfort and arms to brave through her nightmares. She immediately realises it would be incredibly unfair for you if she had. 

“She has him now. She’ll never pick you, you must know that.”

She heard you sighing loudly, and the softest, slightest sniffle after. Natasha found herself hugging your sweater tightly around herself. 

—

But one night, one awfully faithful, terrible night, Natasha sees you with Maria, and all hell breaks loose. 

She was getting a drink, and some peace and quiet in the kitchen to supplant the peace your balcony offered. 

But you were there, and as Natasha recognised the smell of your perfume from the entrance, she was already preparing to throw herself into your arms and profess the tiring day she had, when she rudely interrupted her own daydreams. 

Your back facing her, you were trapped between Maria’s arms pressing you against the counter. Your hand holding her jaw, her lips were feverishly chasing yours as her moans filled the air. It was the exact same position Natasha would so often find herself with you on your rendezvous all those months ago. 

It was her jaw you used to hold. Her moans you would hear. Her arms the ones holding you. Not Maria, not anyone else. 

The sheer dread and betrayal that washed through her had Natasha retreating out of the room immediately, but not before knocking over a stray chair she failed to register. It crashed as it fell, prompting you to break the kiss immediately. 

When your eyes found hers, Natasha felt the need to retch. 

“Natasha, wait!” 

You had freed yourself from Maria, but Natasha was already halfway across the hall, running back to her room. 

That night, for reasons only known to herself, Natasha digs through her closet again, throwing everything that Bruce has ever left in her space to one side of the room. 

She finds the grey sweater she has abandoned since getting together with him, and for the first time since the night she slept with him, she clutches it to her chest and cries herself to sleep with it. 

—

You brought Maria to the wedding of one of the other agents. Natasha sat pretty in Bruce’s arms throughout, never finding the strength to end things with him, but never letting her eyes wander anywhere apart from you. 

She watched Maria hold on to your every word while her hands wrapped themselves around your arm, just like she had. She watched from two rows behind, Maria leaning her head on your shoulder as the bride and groom exchanged their vows. She watched her own hands gripping the wooden bench so tightly she thought it might break from her strength. 

You slow-danced with Maria, and her with Bruce. Maria leaned in to whisper something in your ear that Natasha tried desperately to read from her lips, while Bruce’s arms tried to entrap her to him. His touch always felt foreign; your hands had always been more nimble and gentle with her. You held on to Maria’s waist the way you used to hold hers in bed, and Natasha fought the urge to rip her own hands off of you as they roamed your figure. 

When you finally leaned in and captured Maria’s lips against yours, Natasha pushed herself off of Bruce immediately and headed straight out of the church to cry. 

That night, while you whispered words of prayer and worship upon Maria’s skin, Natasha was screaming at Bruce to get out of her room and breaking up with him. 

–

In the moments that followed, the moments of pure silence, and realisation of what she had done, Natasha felt horrible. Bruce didn’t deserve the ending she left him with, and she was sure she had woken up Steve in the next room because of her meltdown. She once again screwed things up, once again isolated herself as the outlier of the team. 

Natasha banged on your door in the moments after, her knuckles rapping on the wooden door and jolting Maria awake. She in turn shook you awake, and in the moments you took to dress yourself, the raps had gotten heavier, more alarming. 

Natasha practically threw herself onto you the moment your door opened, sobbing into your chest hysterically. You spared one look at her, then Maria in the bed behind, and it was all it took for the other agent to know who took priority in your heart.

You gave her an apologetic smile, promising to make it up to her, while Maria nodded numbly. She gathered her own clothes, held your shoulder briefly, before leaving the room to you and Natasha. You muttered a sorry, she only shrugged and left. You felt Natasha hold on to you tighter in the moments you took to speak to Maria. 

Natasha only calmed down when you quietly shushed her cries with assurances, your hands carding through her hair and holding her just like how you used to. Your heartbeat was slow, steady against her ears, the source of her safety and home. 

Clutching a cup of tea that you made for her, Natasha welcomed you sitting beside her against your bed frame this time, your shoulders still touching. You didn’t speak, or pressure her to speak, and instead only switched on the television, flipping through the cartoons on mute to let her relax. 

The comfortable silence lingered while Natasha sipped on her tea, the occasional sniffle still escaping her, while her eyes glued itself to the network on the screen in front of her. You joined her in watching the cartoons, propping a pillow against your back when it started to hurt. 

Finally, Natasha broke the silence with, “You must think I’m insane.”

“I cannot think of you apart from love.”

The breath caught in Natasha’s throat. Your words were warm like the sun. 

She put the mug down, and cleared her throat. “I broke up with Bruce.”

“Oh.”

Your eyes were still glued to the screen, any evidence of surprise or shock devoid from your face. Natasha didn’t know to be thankful or offended that you didn’t ask the reasons why. “He wasn’t a bad person, I was just…not the one…for him.”

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling comfortingly at her as you put your arm around her shoulder and brought her close, “It takes a long of wrongs to find the right one.” 

“What if the right one never comes for me?”

“Then I’ll be here, for you, always. There’s no rush, or pressure, Nat,” you affirmed, even though your throat was closing up at the topic Natasha had chosen for the night. 

“But what if I left Bruce for that right one?” She held the ends of your T-shirt, a new urgency in her voice, “What if I’ve found that right one, but I don’t…deserve…someone like them?”

You only pressed a kiss to her hairline, shaking your head. “What nonsense. How terribly lucky that person would be, to be loved by someone like you. It is probably the greatest privilege of anyone’s life to be with you, Natasha.”

You wiped the small frown off her face with the edge of your thumb, holding her face just like how you had so many nights before. She felt like she was going to burst with all the love she had for you. And then you smiled, and laughed about the tear tracks left behind in the wake of makeup on her face, and Natasha hit you lovingly with all that she could not say to you that night.

When she had fallen asleep in your arms and left you staring at the ceiling later, you wondered if the horrifying ache in your heart at the fact that she was so irrevocably in love with someone else to feel that she didn’t deserve them, was going to be the cause of your death. 

–

Your relationship with Maria eventually fizzled out, moreso with her realising her place in your list of priorities and you not wishing to lead her on for something you knew was not going to end well. You both remained friends, and it was her that you eventually confided in with how much your longing for Natasha never seemed to ever lessen in intensity, or fizzle in fervour. 

She was the one who placed you and her in your first mission together after the both of you had returned to being single. It was supposed to be a simple one, for the both of you to bond and get back the ‘friendship’ that had been slightly altered from Natasha’s jealousy and your pain, but it was difficult, to say the least.

You had gotten captured helping her escape, and with a firm demand for her to return with the hostages first, Natasha was left with no choice but to leave you behind. Fury had screamed into her comms that she had to complete the mission first, before coming back to rescue you, but all through the flight home, the tears that had flown freely down her cheeks served only as reminder that it was her mistake, her incompetence, that resulted in you being at the mercy of the enemy now. 

She was denied the opportunity to rescue you. Fury didn’t trust that she would be able to keep her cool, and Natasha’s protests and attempts to sneak herself on the team only resulted in her being allowed to watch the body cam footage of the team being tasked to rescue you instead.

 She was only subjected to a clear view of them torturing you, hitting you with electrically-charged weapons and demanding for her location. You had screamed, cried, and passed out several times, your suit was torn and your skin underneath burnt and raw, but still you refused to give up her location. 

Natasha could only hold your sweater tightly against herself, the sleeves soaked with her tears as she watched and waited for an opportunity to rescue you. Clint held her hand in support beside her, and when Natasha made eye contact with Maria across the room, the other agent finally understood why it was her that was being used to extract information out of you.

Maria was the first to hug her in encouragement when they rescued your unconscious, but still breathing body, whispering to her ear, “She only ever looked at you, anyway.”

–

Natasha hated herself for hurting you. She hated that she was the one whose mistake landed you in such a critical condition. She hated the agitated screams and shouts from the medical wing doctors as they tried to stop you from dying. She hated that she always ruined everything she touched, hurt everyone she loved. 

But when you woke up and she cried into the crook of your neck about how sorry, and guilty she was, you still reassured her that it was never her fault. She apologised for breaking you and Maria apart, you were still kind to tell her it was never going to work. She apologised for being a horrible person to be around, you told her everyone made mistakes, and as long as you didn’t die, it was still a mistake she could learn from. 

–

You helped Natasha build back her confidence from her mistake in that mission. She orbited her life around yours now, hanging on to your every word, cherishing every moment with you as if she would never see you again. 

Everyone began comparing the two of you to an old married couple now. You always protected her and defended her for only acting the way she was around you. 

“Ignore them,” you would say after each accusation, each tease. You taught her to be confident in her skin and her skills, enough so that nobody else’s words would matter. Apart from yours.

But Natasha doesn’t want to ignore them, not anymore. 

–

The Avenger catches herself falling for you more and more. 

The way you lend her your mask after missions to help her focus and bring her back to earth. 

The way you yell at the team to save her the last slice of pizza when she finds it embarrassing to do so. 

The way you offer her your entire wardrobe to steal from when the team pranks and steals your sweater away from her for April Fool’s. The way you get it back for her right after.

The way you tend to her wounds before your own. 

The way you teach her to accept, and love herself; you constantly tell her she is more than what the KGB trained her for. The way you make her feel good about herself and the world she’s in when you’re around. 

Natasha is afraid of the day someone else captures your heart before she has the courage to tell you she loves you. 

–

She was attending a guest lecture of yours at a university. Words of quantum mechanics and astrophysics flew by her head as she sat in the back row of the lecture hall, busy admiring the blouse that was folded up to your sleeves, and the poise and dignity you held in your stance. It was not surprising that the other students also broke in hushed whispers about your looks throughout the class. 

When you finished, and sent a smile up her way to signal the time for lunch together, Natasha found her own smile mirroring yours. 

Natasha waited by the door while the class’ professor took a few moments to speak and pick apart your brain. A little older than she was, the agent did not deny the obvious attractiveness to the woman; but when she began noticing the subtle glances she was sneaking to your lips, or the light touches she made to your elbow, she knew it was not irrational to want to strangle the woman for even being in your proximity. 

She cannot risk losing you again. She cannot hear your laughter and jokes directed at someone else. She cannot watch you go with someone else while she stands by the sidelines anymore. 

“Excuse me,” she interrupted, “I’m sorry for my interruption, but my wife and I have a lunch to attend to.” 

Natasha pulled your elbow away before either of you had so much time to process, or even reply to her interruption, dragging you through the halls and out into the courtyard of the building. It was now or never. She was sure you knew. 

“Wife?” you asked, a little out of breath, a little in disbelief. 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, wife.”

“You don’t…you…you called me…?” You were clearly at a loss for words. Natasha found it adorable, the hopeful, puzzled expression on your face. 

“She was hitting on you.”

“I know, but I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to…”

“I don’t want anyone else to hit on you,” Natasha came closer, her arms found themselves on your waist, “Anyone else but me.”

Her hands cradled your face. “I love you. I have loved you from the start. I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you. You are my right one; right from the start. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that.”

You were speechless, and Natasha giggled as she helped close your mouth at her declaration. “Thank you, for loving me. For seeing the best and worst parts of me and still loving me through it all, for waiting so long for me to have the courage to love you back. You don’t know how much you mean to me. And I’m quite sure I have loved you the same too, it makes me a bit pathetic to love you so much.”

“You would never be pathetic to me.”

“I know,” she laughed again. Natasha always found joy easier to come by when she’s with you. 

She smiled sadly then. “I’m sorry I was so hard to love.”

“I can love you like it’s breathing. I just can’t help it.” You couldn’t believe what was happening. 

Your arms felt warm like the sun. Natasha felt easier to breathe around you. You were everything she needed to heal. 

“Well, what do you say we start the rest of our lives together from here on? As wives?” 

“I’d say that I made the perfect decision marrying you.” 

Natasha knew wearing your grey sweater with her that day was a good decision.

ok this is the video i mentioned, like imagine könig in this, i want to tie his hands and feet and make a mess out of him :((( imagine him crying out of frustration that he can't touch you (and he makes a mental note to punish you as soon as he gets released), so overwhelmed and trying to scape the entire time, so cute :(( you make the context, my brain isn't creative enough to think of how we end up in this situation. sorry if i misspelled something and again i love your blog it's amazing !!*:! also i'm sorry if this make you unconfortable somehow idk?

Enemy

TW: porn

and I strike again with another questionable scenario

this is just... I... uhm... well...

there's no such thing as crossing the limits with me I'm a fucking whore

Summary: you interrogate an enemy soldier in a different approach.

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: smut, König x female!reader, they're both a bit crazy, male overstimulation, edging, knife play (if you squint), glove kink, no use of y/n

masterlist

Recently, your team had brought an enemy for interrogation, and you were the one assigned to get the job done.

"Make him talk, we don't care how." They said.

You got in the cell, hands sweating nervously as you saw the man you were dealing with. You've met before, a long while ago, and he didn't change a thing. He's still arrogant, like he wasn't far within a hostile environment, his hands and feet in chains, in a cell that has never seen daylight. The only thing in the room being the chair he was sitting on and a fucked up mattress.

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, not knowing if he was able to recognize you from the mask you wore. But your voice, he could never forget the sweet melody of your voice moaning his name a few years ago when he fucked you senseless at an abandoned house, in the middle of war.

It happened fast, you were sweeping the place and he was there. You missed your shot when he pushed your gun upwards and tried to strangle you, but soon backed down when saw you were a defenseless damsel in distress.

And you found yourself pressed against a wall being fucked by an enemy soldier, just because he felt like it.

You try to shake off the thoughts that creep on your dirty brain, and as soon as the door gets locked behind you, his body relaxes on the chair. 

"So, we meet again." He cleared his throat. Pretentious prick. 

"König." You start, raising your eyebrows. "I guess you won't be using your free will to tell me what the code is, will you?" You walked towards him, he was still tall, even when he was sunk on the chair with his legs spreaded.

"My free will has better things to do than to hand out codes like candy at a parade. I prefer keeping my secret to myself. Yours too." You could feel the creepy smile that lit up his face. How could you ever do that to yourself?

"They won't believe you." You shrug, slowly walking from side to side on the cell, arms behind your back, your heavy boots hitting the concrete floor. "They're too busy torturing your general for info." His eyes widened and he straightened himself on the chair, tensing up. "So, what are you hiding, pretty boy?"

He flexed his muscles in response, trying to get rid of the chains that kept him restrained. But the praise, coming from your lips, it was impossible for him to contain an enormous wave of heat that destroyed any ounce of self respect he had. He lowered his head, but looked at you through his eyebrows.

"I assume we'll have to do this the hard way then." You took the knife from your belt and stood in front of him, running it along his collarbone and stopping at his chin, lifting it up. "Such a beautiful pair of eyes you got, 'wonder what you hide behind that hood." You say, lifting the fabric of his mask.

"Gonna use flirting as your way to get around this?" He chuckles, looking away.

"I'm offended." You fake a gasp and hold a hand to your chest. "Wasn't that what you did to me?" You're just able to get a laugh from him.

"You wanted that to happen." He looked at your eyes again.

"And you're wanting, too." You stick the knife in the wooden chair between his legs and he jolts in panic.

"Fuck, are you insane?" He looks down and at you again, and you laugh. 

You crouch in front of him, spreading his legs further, and laying your elbow on his thigh. The tip of your finger touches the end of your knife and plays with it, watching how his thighs tense.

"I might be." You say, looking at him. "But I always get what I want."

"You're fucking crazy." He chuckles and looks to the sides, trying to contain his embarrassment as a bulge slowly shows up on his pants.

You take the knife from the chair and put it on your belt again, moving your gloved hands towards his belt and pulling him up. He's heavy as fuck, it was almost impossible to do it if he didn't stand up, towering over you.

You pushed him back, and because of his feet tangled in chains, he fell back on the mattress, bucking his hips up as you eagerly unfastened his belt.

"You weren't this straightforward when we first met." He chuckled and looked up.

"What can I say? 'Guess your taste is addictive." You remembered the bitter taste of his release when he ruthlessly fucked your throat back in that house.

You pulled his hard member out, lifting your mask just below your nose to spit on it, and he whines as you wrap your gloved hand around it, jerking it up and down slowly. He pleads, trying to fuck your hand, but you pull away chuckling and he sighs.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?" You ran your finger along his length, stopping at his tip.

"I won't talk." He gritted his teeth.

"Then you won't cum." You give him a sly smile as you pull the mask down again.

Your hand grabs his dick, jerking it roughly, and he can't help but whine as he tries to get away from your touch. He's so desperate it's pathetic, and he moans as you set the pace.

He tries to move, to get away from the chains, he thinks about how bad he wants to be free and pin you down on the mattress and fuck you until you're begging him to stop, knowing he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.

Your touch becomes too much on him, almost too harsh to bear, and he cries as he feels his cock throbbing as hard as it could, knowing that he wouldn't last long if you kept going this way.

And suddenly, as he's about to cum, you pull away again, leaving him whimpering at the sudden loss of contact.

"Fuck, why did you do this?" He whines desperately.

"It's simple, you give me what I want and I'll give you what you want." You shrug, grabbing his member once again and going fast on it. He cries, feeling his high approaching once again.

"I'm not talking." He shakes uncontrollably.

"Aww, stubbornness only turns me on." You say. He's too overwhelmed to think about an answer, trying to get away from your grip.

You feel his body tensing up again, his hips bucking up, chasing his so wanted release. Your hand keeps its pace, but your other one blocks his tip just as he's about to cum, watching his vein twitch. He's crying and cursing at you in german, his heavy balls filled with cum as he was being denied once again.

"Come on, I'm not gonna let go until you tell me, and it's only gonna hurt more." You say, letting his dick fall back to his stomach, and one of your hands grabs his balls. He's still shaking, completely overstimulated, and you use your thighs to make him stay put.

"I only know part of it, alright?" It comes out high pitched as his voice cracks, you could feel the pain in his eyes. "The general too, and your team is going to need more than just us for the full code if you want to stop that damn operation." It's almost impossible to understand his german accent at how fast he speaks, his chest rising up and down.

His cock twitches, his tip was red and leaking, and you decide that's probably all that he's going to say, and plus you needed him for his part of the code. 

"That's it, please, maus, it's hurting." He cries. Maybe he deserved to get his award now.

"Such a good boy you are, huh, see? It wasn't hard." You stroke his dick, the praise enough to make him see stars. 

As you increase your movements, he becomes a whimpering mess once again, and deep in his brain he's thinking of how pretty you would look with his cock buried in your pussy, and how bad he will ruin you once he has his hands on you.

It's too much to take, he's trembling, making it hard for you to keep him still. And he can't hold back any longer, his thick cum spouting on your gloves and his shirt.

"Maus, please, stop." He pleads, his body giving in. You clean your gloves on his clothed thighs and get up, leaving him there, covered in white. You stand there, looking down at him and his softening length, and slowly walk towards the door. "Where are you going? Don't leave me like this."

You knock two times on the door and one of your men unlocks it. You open it, looking back at König, still there, still messy, still panting and angry, spitting out as you leave.

"You're gonna pay for this."

match made in uni

☆ teacher college au ; strict adviser!nat (science teacher) x coadviser cute!reader (english teacher)

— im sure school isnt the same for everyone butttt for me in each class we have a teacher assigned as our advisor!!! they also teach classes

— longass oneshot because i’ve been working on this for two months……

soon, it was the beginning of a new school year at nyu. natasha, a science teacher known for her strictness, is finally getting her own advisory class.

natasha walks over to to her desk at the large, wine colored faculty and the new paper at the bulletin board catches her eye.

the list of co-advisors and advisors for this school year. natasha walks towards it and racks her eyes for her name and sees another beside it.

advisor - co advisor

Romanoff, Natasha - Y/l/n, Y/n

Barnes, Bucky - Rogers, Steve

Maximoff, Wanda - Barton, Clint

…

natasha furrows her eyebrows at the unfamiliar name next to hers.

“wanda, who is y/n y/l/n?” natasha turns around to the other redhead. if anyone were to know who and what, it would be wanda.

wanda was always the first to get on campus, natasha second.

“oh! she’s the new english teacher. very sweet young woman, maria accepted that job in harvard, remember?” she says with a sweet smile.

“you know this how?” natasha takes her seat in front of her desk, beside wanda’s “i bumped into her as she was given a tour, you’ll love her as your co- advisor!” natasha gave a hum.

she didn’t meet you till 2 weeks before the school year started. a faculty meeting was held at the auditorium. natasha walked in, expecting to be second, but was now third. she saw wanda and a y/h/c talking.

“nat!” wanda waved her over as the y/h/c turned her head to see natasha approaching “natasha, this is y/n! y/n, natasha”

“y/n” you smiled, extending your hand for a handshake “romanoff” she shook your hand once and dropped it “oh- of course, y/l/n then” you laughed as she nodded, taking the seat beside wanda.

natasha wouldn’t lie, you were attractive. she just didn’t know you enough. the meeting soon started, briefing what would happen when the students came. the list of advisors and co-advisors came up, making each person familiar with who they were working with.

after that, natasha soon realized your desk was beside hers at the faculty. you didn’t have much but some flowers at the side and sticky notes up.

natasha didn’t see much of you till the week of school starting itself. “wanda, do you happen do have y/l/n’s phone number?” “why don’t you ask her yourself, flirty” wanda giggled

“not in that way, genius. we need to prep our classroom” “sureeee… here ya go” wanda gave a post it as natasha grumbled, taking it.

Natasha Romanoff

Y/l/n, if you’re free please meet me

at our assigned room tomorrow. Thanks.

— N.R

Y/n Y/l/n

Sure! Around what time? :)

Natasha Romanoff

11AM Sharp.

Y/n Y/l/n

Got it! See you there!

“nat why are you being so dry to this poor woman” wanda looked over natasha’s desk as she hid her phone to her chest. “snoopy” “dry texter” “Well she’s my co-advisor! I’ve never had one and I like to handle things on my own”

“A, you’ve never even been an advisor, you need help. B, she’s kind, don’t break her. C, she’s pretty, maybe date her” wanda winked again “oh fuck you” natasha rolled her eyes “romanoff! we’re in school” “oh come on, I hear you swearing at little maximoff all day”

11am the next day came and each advisor and co had to decorate their own classroom. natasha and you decided to just make it as simple as possible. you two were decorating with quiet music playing from a vinyl player.

“sorry if ever i’m being rude or dry, i don’t trust people easily” natasha said, breaking the comfortable silence as she hung up decorations over the board.

“i don’t blame you, you did just meet me last week” you let out a chuckle as natasha climbed down the short ladder “natasha” she extended her hand “y/n” you shook it “I think this is good enough” natasha looks around the decorated classroom, satisfied.

“mhm… hey, wanna grab lunch? i know a great place around here” you suggested “why not”

you and natasha walked over to a café after lunch for come coffee “order?” she asked you as you took a seat “iced caramel macchiato please” she nodded and ordered for you both

natasha told you about her many stories as a teacher. “yeah this one time some kid threw a fit and ripped all the pages from their book” natasha said with a low laugh “oh lord” you shook your head with a smile

“what about you? is this your first teaching job?” natasha tilted her head “sort of? i was a student teacher for 2 years before i graduated this year”

“oh, so you’re like fresh out of college?” “yup, i kind of retook a year in grade school though so i was like a year or two older than my batch mates. they graduated 22 and 23 and me, 24” i shrugged sipping on my coffee. “that’s nice”

“what about you?” “my age? i’m 36.” your eyes widened at that “look, i know i’m old but at least don’t make it obvious” natasha laughed lowly “no! no i just- you don’t look it at all, i honestly thought you were in your 20s” you chuckled “well thank you, i’m flattered” natasha smiled

the morning of your first day, natasha handed you an iced caramel macchiato and you blushed as she remembered your order. “nervous?” she smiled, taking her seat beside you.

natasha wore a black betau top with cream wide leg trousers. you wore a lace flare top with flare pants.

“sort of, i have 3 classes today. they’ll probably hate me” you groan and take a long sip of the coffee “unlikely, you’re very likable. you may even take wanda’s place as nicest teacher. but if they ever disrespect you or any of that, i will personally have a chat with them”

“i really appreciate you, natasha” she nodded and stood up, extending her hand “time to have our first advisory class” she winked and you chuckled, shaking your head.

“good morning class, i’m ms romanoff, your advisor this school year. and beside me is your co-advisor, ms y/l/n. i’ve been teaching at nyu for 5 years and this is my first advisory class. i will also be your science teacher.” natasha said with a straight face as she turned to look at you before looking back at the students

“hi! good morning, i’m ms y/l/n, your co- advisor and english teacher this school year! it’s my first year teaching and i look forward to getting to know everyone” you smiled

natasha briefed everyone on general instructions and the schedule. english as first period today and science as last.

“that’s it, be good everyone, thank you” natasha stopped her presentation and all the students went off to chattering. you opened your laptop, opening your slides when natasha whispered behind you. “good luck, you’ll do great” she winked and you thanked her before you heard the door shut.

if’s been a month of teaching with natasha. you were cleaning up your things as your finished your class when natasha walked in, her class being the one after yours.

she made small talk to you while setting up her own things. she made you laugh when a student suddenly asked. “ms y/l/n! you’re a lesbian, correct?” your eyes widened at the topic

“excuse me, i don’t think it’s appropriate to ask a teacher that.” natasha shut them up as you both left the classroom, sharing a laugh

you had slipped out the fact you had a girlfriend in college to natasha on one of your café hangouts so she probably got the hint.

"what got them to ask that question" natasha chuckled "well the boys keep asking me out and i keep declining them. but don't they get they are students?!" “oh trust me, it gets better. i’ve had my fair share of questions and-” natasha halted her words when she got the hint some students were whispering as the both of you passed by the halls.

“what are they whispering about?” “i’m actually not sure as well” you said “well i’ll see you after class” you waved to natasha, making your way to the classroom.

“ms y/l/n, i don’t mean to invade your privacy or anything but- are you and ms romanof dating? everyone has been talking about it and- i- i just didn’t want to assume” a student came up to you and you choked on your spit

“i- um- no! and i’m sure ms romanoff wouldn’t fancy the idea of students talking about her love life.” you shook it off with a smile, thoughts racing through your head. no way natasha would go for you.

“students are saying we’re dating?!?”

"hey, you've been staring intently at that paper for awhile, you alright?" natasha tapped your shoulder, standing beside you.

"this interpretation is so..." "so.." "read it for yourself" you lifted the paper up to natasha "pick a line from any shakespeare poem and interpret it... the answer was..”

'my chosen poem is 'o never say that i was false of heart' and my line is 'as from soul, which in thy breast doth lie', i think it means shakespeare approves of lesbians’"

"you can laugh" you said as natasha let out a loud laugh, covering her mouth. you looked up and you saw natasha smile widely before looking into your eyes.

time went by too slowly when natasha cleared her throat and handed you back the paper. “it’s funny” she stated, sitting back in her seat. the silence was now awkward.

of course she wouldn’t go for you. “yeah” you whispered and stood up. natasha watched you as her words died in her throat.

the next few weeks were you avoiding natasha as much as you could, and her doing nothing to fix it.

you had a particularly rough week with taking an extra class since wanda was down with the cold. you happened to have a love for history as well.

the papers to grade were twice as much now. you rubbed your forehead in frustration as you were the only one on school campus.

“y/n?” you turned around to see natasha by the door “yeah” you murmured before turning back to the papers. “it’s 1 am what are you doing?!” she walked over to your desk and saw the amount of papers scattered.

“go home” she stated “not done” you whispered, leaning on the palm of your hand “you can continue tomorrow, dekta” natasha let the nickname slip but was thankful you were too out of it to notice

natasha started filing the papers for you as you rested your head against the desk. “i can take homeroom alone so you don’t have to get in till 10am, ‘kay?” she helped you stand up as you murmured a yes.

“you won’t fall asleep driving?” she asked and you shook your head. “safe travels” she watched as you drove off.

the next morning students frowned at the loss of their favorite teacher in homeroom. “alright, we finished a few minutes early so… any questions?” natasha asked and received many raised hands

“yes, diana?” “where’s ms y/n?” natasha softened at the mention, not going unnoticed by the students “she- she’s taking a rest but will be here for your 3rd period”

“is her girlfriend taking care of her?” a student piqued. natasha stiffened “whatever ms y/l/n and her partner do is not relevant.” natasha looked at her watch and grabbed her stuff “have a good first period everyone.”

natasha couldn’t help but feel a weight on her chest by the thought of you having a partner that isn’t her.

unbeknownst to her, the students were ready in their cupid skills.

“i’m telling you, diana! she frowned and got all cold again by the mention of ms y/n having a girlfriend!” the student argued. “what if we sent fake flowers to her desk and ms romanoff got more jealous!” “that’s so childish!” “well- i am a teen?” the students bickered but quickly got quiet when their next subject teacher came.

the next day natasha’s mood got worse upon seeing roses on your table, with a note. you came a few minutes after hers.

“morning ms romanoff” natasha tried to hold her tounge at the downgrade from natasha to ms romanoff.

“morning y/n, you know you can call me natasha, right?” you nodded but smiled at the flowers on your desk

“girlfriend?” she asked and you laughed “no” you opened up the card to see a horrible pickup line that made you laugh.

“people ask me what blush i use, i just show them a photo of you and i’m all roses” you read out loud to natasha.

“corny” she snickered “yeah? you can do better than that, romanoff?” natasha spun her chair to face you “as a matter of fact, yes.” “try me” you smirked “oh you’ll see.”

since then, every morning you would get to your desk with a pickup line from natasha which were undeniably good.

it’s been four months of teaching when you left quite frantically that piqued natasha’s interest,

“what’s the rush?” she chuckled “gotta date” you shoved your stuff into your bag “bye wanda, steve, bruce, tasha!” you left before a reply

“hope she gets laid” wanda muttered, earning a slap from natasha “what! i’m being supportive!” natasha grumbled in response

the next day, natasha was surprised to see you and wanda earlier than usual. “morning nat!” wanda greeted and you forced a smile to her as well “what’s wrong?” “she stood me up… i got a lot of work done last night though” you leaned back in your seat

“i’m sorry y/n/n” natasha set her stuff down and handed you the daily pickup line. she smiled when you laughed. “how do you never fail to come up with a bad one?!? this is like number sixty!” “one of my many talents” natasha winked.

“imma get coffee, be right back” you left and wanda immediately said “ask her out.” “what?” natasha looked at wanda “come onnnnnn! it’s been 4 months” “should i really?” natasha asked quietly and wanda shrieked a yes. a small smile was forming on natasha’s face at the idea.

the next day natasha came even earlier than wanda and set roses on your desk.

natasha fiddled with her pen when you walked in “morning wands, morning tasha” you sat on your desk and smiled at the roses. wanda quietly snuck out the door. “are these from you?” you smirked, jokingly at natasha. “yes, and this is for you, natasha said seriously and handed you a post it. in specific, a sticky note that asks you out. this one finally has her name signed on the bottom.

“i- of course” you smiled at natasha “great! i- um- i’ll pick you up tonight at your place” “alright” you smiled widely “i have a thing- i’ll be back” she nodded as you left.

bonus-

you kept all post its from natasha and she was in awe when she saw them in the box.

the students all went crazy when they saw you both kissing online.

wanda was a bridesmaid at the wedding.

omg.....

fingering a milf from behind while she’s sitting on your lap trying to turn her head and bury her face in your chest out of embarrassment because of how flushed her cheeks are while she’s squeaking about how close she is to coming

leaning down to whisper against her ear, “you gonna beg for it, baby? ask me for permission to come. tell me how badly you wanna come on my fingers, pretty girl.”

and in spite of being a bit vanilla she takes not even a moment before begging for your permission, grinding her ass back against you and telling you how much she wants to come

imagine how pretty she’d be on your lap with her cheeks all flushed n her hair a mess while she’s whining, “please let me come, please, please, please…”

Unconventional comfort

Pairings: Natasha x you

Words: 1379

Warnings: This contains nursing. It is not s*xual in any way but it is slightly unconventional hence the warning. If you don’t like it or do not have anything kind to day, please move on. Thank you

Summary: You had accidentally - and thankfully, managed to provide Natasha with a comfort and closeness she'd always been denied.

It wasn't rare for Natasha to have nightmares. Due to her past, they were kind of expected. Every night at around the same time, you'd be abruptly awoken by a muffled cry of fear coming from the spot just next to you. You'd rouse almost instantly, desperate to sooth her but not daring to touch her in fear of how she'd react. Sometimes, she'd manage to bring herself out of it.

She'd wake up only briefly before seeking you out with a soft whimper of both fear and confusion, and you'd pull her into your arms, sooth her back to sleep with a gentle hand grazing over the bare skin of her back.

Other times, you weren't so lucky.

There was one time, just a few short months ago that she'd had one of the worst nightmares that exists to date. It had started with her shifting in place slightly, eyebrows furrowed as she lets out a small whimper.

But then it had progressed into quiet cries that had slowly risen in volume until they could be perceived as literal screams of terror. In the midst of your own fear and panic, you'd instinctively made the mistake of trying to wake her.

It was just a touch. Barely even a graze of your finger against her skin. But it was enough. She'd violently shoved you away from her with that could only be described of cry of unbridled rage. Her hands had reached for your throat, and you were sure they would have reached their destination if it hadn't been for the sleepy disorientation still clouding her hazy, tormented mind.

With a skill you didn't even know you possessed, you had managed to haul her thriving body into your arms. You'd situated yourself against the headboard with her between your legs, both your arms and legs pinning her body to your own. She'd screamed. She'd thrashed and swore and called you every name under the sun. But you hadn't let her go.

Eventually, she'd seemed to realise you wouldn't be letting her go and was quick to slump into a defeated lump in your arms.

You'd adjusted her slightly so she was more or less cradled, her legs curled up against your hip whilst her head had come to rest against your chest. Your own arms had secured her to you, gentle hands brushing the sweat soaked hair out of her face whilst gentle coos of comfort had escaped your lips.

Her hands had risen to take ahold of your shirt, silently clinging, pleading even, not to let her go. She was sniffling quietly, eyes drooping and quietly pleading for sleep. But she refuses to allow it, and you don't dare force her.

As Natasha had laid there, cradled in your arms like she was no more than an infant, she'd reached for your hand and had coaxed it to her face. You had understood her silent implication, tenderly cupping her cheek and grazing the pad of your thumb over the still damp skin.

What happened next had been a complete accident.

Due to being half asleep and rather uncoordinated, your thumb had slipped down slightly and had grazed over her bottom lip as opposed to her cheek. Natasha, seemingly close to sleep as well, had simply reacted upon instinct. Her lips had parted, and she'd accepted the pad of your thumb into her mouth without hesitation before beginning to suckle.

You'd stared down at her in awe, too scared to move and disturb the serene look of complete content that had slipped onto her features. It had felt like seconds and hours all at the same time before the current predicament it had simultaneously clicked for the both of you.

Like she had been set on fire, Natasha had pulled away from your thumb. Her eyes had ripped open, irises full of both embarrassment and humiliation. She'd looked up at you with a look so full of fear it was almost as though she was waiting for you to belittle her.

But you couldn't and wouldn't ever do that.

Before she could even begin to rip herself out of your arms, a strange sense of calm had settled upon you and you'd found yourself gently coaxing her back to your chest. She'd complied warily, and not a word was spoken between the two of you as you had once again trialed the pad of your thumb over her bottom lip.

Her hand had risen to timidly cover your own, and as she'd continue to stare to at you with a look so heartbreakingly full of fear, you'd gently parted her lips and coaxed the pad of your thumb back into her mouth.

Whether it be instinct or something else entirely, she'd begun to suckle almost instantly, her whole body going limp with what could only be described as relief. Her eyes had fluttered closed, and with your free hand, you'd traced gentle circles over the small of her back.

*

It was on the third nightmare of the week that the dynamic had shifted a little. You'd been undoubtedly exhausted after just getting back from a two day stakeout with Clint and Yelena, so when Natasha has woken with yet another nightmare, you'd simply pulled her into your chest.

She had seemed placated. She'd gone quiet and still, laying there on her side with with her head buried between your breasts. You had just begun to drift of to sleep again when what could only be described as a whine had escaped her lips, and though your body had protested, you had gone to sit up so she could have access to your thumb.

But one simple action had stopped you. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, she'd latched on to the swell of your breast over the material of your shirt. Her suckles were gentle and consistent, the heat of her mouth leaving your shirt slightly damp. You'd stared at her, stunned, and almost entranced at the sight before you.

It had taken only moments for everything to seemingly fall into place.

Natasha would always pay careful to your breasts during intimate moments. She'd almost worship them, in a sense, and she'd said many times that they were one of her favourite things about you. As you watched her mouth move, you'd come to the realisation that letting her suckle would be the same thing but with a slightly different context.

You hadn't allowed yourself to hesitate as you'd pulled off your shirt, shuffling up the bed slightly so that your breast were level with her head. Cupping the flesh, you'd grazed your nipple over her bottom lip, and just like the many tunes before, instinct had her latching on without hesitation.

You felt the hot air of her content exhale before you'd heard it, and with a hand on the back of her head to keep her close, you'd settled back into your pillow, feeling more than seeing her soft suckles against your skin.

It was pleasant feeling, but not in an pleasurable way. More so it was soothing, and before you knew it, you felt yourself falling back to sleep too.

*

What occurs on those bad nights was never brought up between the two of you. In fact, if it wasn't for the occasional awkward glance sent your way from Natasha, you would have assumed you'd dreamt it.

You didn't necessarily mind, because you knew how hard it was for Natasha to open herself up and allow herself to be seen in such a vulnerable yet intimate way. But a part of you did wish she would at least acknowledge it so you didn't feel so alone.

Thankfully, you knew wasn't because she regrets it or didn't like it. Each gentle tug at your shirt after every bad dream proves that. You just wish she knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about and hoped one day, that would be the case.

**

I hope you enjoyed 🩵

🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

DRESS

| you and abby are hiding your relationship from your friends, but you can't deny the sexual tension in the car before nora's end of summer party

| cw: 18+, mommy kink, friends with benefits situation, car sex, use of strap (r!receiving), pet names, public sex i suppose but it's said that they're in a very secluded area, happy ending

| wc: 2.5k

Maybe if Abby didn’t want you to get turned on on the way to the party, she shouldn’t have worn her hair down with a baseball cap turned around. Not to mention the black cutoff she was wearing. You feel like you're going insane. Your thighs press together in the passenger seat as she lights another cigarette, holding it slightly out the window so that the smoke doesn't get inside. 

When you heard Nora was finally throwing her end of summer kickback, you and Abby jumped at the opportunity to attend. It was always nice to see everyone after the summer had kept everyone busy. But you didn’t even care about that anymore. The only thing you could care about was how large Abby’s arms looked in her shirt, and how small the cigarette looked between her fingers.

You had been casually seeing each other, emphasis on casually. You had been friends for a very long time. You had grown up together, and when you went to college you moved in together. You couldn’t remember a time in your life when you weren’t with Abby. But, getting together was difficult. It would be weird to announce it to your friends. You were both scared that it would become too much, and it would ruin your friendship. So you decided to take it slow– really slow. You mainly had sex, and then didn’t talk about the sex after. So, you especially didn’t want to walk into the party with all your other friends smelling like sex.

“You need something?” She says, snapping you out of your daze.

You shake your head, scared of the words that would come out if you tell her what you were thinking. You pull the dress you're wearing down out of a nervous habit; mainly hoping that it'll hide the way your thighs are moving together every time she looks over at you. It's embarrassing, honestly. She hasn't even done anything. You’ve seen her in an outfit like this countless times. But there’s something about tonight; something about the way she’s driving and the way she’s carrying herself. So easily confident. You’re captivated by her. 

What you didn’t know is that you were driving Abby equally as crazy. The red dress you had picked out specifically for this party hugged your body in all the right ways. It accentuates her favorite parts of you. When you walked out into the living room all dolled up, she swore she almost came in her pants. She immediately went back into the room and threw on the strap under her shorts. Maybe you knew, maybe you didn’t. But with the way you were pressing your thighs together, she knew something was working for you tonight. She decided that she didn’t want to make it easy for you though. You would have to beg; you would have to get really desperate for Abby to consider fucking you on the side of the road.

“Do you think Mel will be there?” You say, trying to ease the sexual tension in the car.

“Hmm– I’m not sure. I know Owen said she wasn’t feeling the best the past few days. I don’t even know if he’ll be there, honestly.” 

“Oh, I hope she feels better.” You reply. Abby nods her head and hums, signaling the end of the conversation.

You wish she would make small talk, you wish she would do anything to distract the way you were thinking. She can hear you thinking, but it doesn’t work in your favor. Abby puts out her cigarette in the ashtray in the car. Then, she puts a rough hand onto your thigh, rubbing her thumb back and forth on the skin there. You almost scream. Your back straightens and you let out a small puff of air, showing your displeasure of the act. You want her to take away her hand, you don’t want to ask her to fuck you on the side of the road. But you also think you may die if she does. She inches her hand further up, the side of her palm almost touches where you need her. You look over at her; panicked. She has her tongue in her cheek, like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Abby,” you mumble.

“What, baby?” She says, pinky twitching towards you.

“Stop trying to turn me on.”

“I’m not trying to do anything. If you get turned on, that’s not my fault.” She knows it doesn't work like that, but she also knows that you love when she pretended it did. 

Abby 100% knew what she was doing. It was purely selfish. She wants to fuck you. Now. She wants to take you to the backseat and have her way with you. But she was never going to pull over the car. You would hang it over her head for years to come. ‘Remember that time you got so horny we were late to Nora’s party?’ She can practically hear your voice in her head. She knows you can't take it; knows that you will have to ask her to pull over.

Abby’s hand moves up far enough that she’s finally touching your cunt. You can’t help the small noise that escapes from your mouth. A whine; a plea. Whatever it was, Abby laughs, then moves her hand back down.

“No more teasing, please.”

“Why not?” She questions, smug look on her face when she turns to look at you.

You decide to be honest to her, “I will make you pull over the car if you keep teasing me.”

“So, make me pull over the car.” Abby says nonchalantly, putting her eyes back on the road.

You suck in a deep breath and pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “They’ll know,”

“They’re not gonna know. Just ask me to pull over. We’re in the middle of nowhere; there’s not even any streetlights. It’s two words, sweetheart, you know I’m up for it.”

The silence is deafening. You try to work up the courage as best as you can; opening and closing your mouth repeatedly. 

Her hand pushes up towards your clit again. “Pull over.” You moan out, before even knowing what you’re saying.

Abby speeds onto the shoulder of the road, not bothering to turn her hazards on since you’re in such a secluded area. The good part about the drive to Nora’s house was that there was barely a road. It was mainly dirt, the yellow lines that were once painted had been long forgotten. You and Abby had made fun of her for moving out in the middle of nowhere; now you wanted to personally thank her for it. 

Abby moves her seat all the way back. Before you move into her lap, you take off your panties and leave them in the passenger seat. She groans and takes off her hat. You sit right down onto her lap and moan when you feel the hard silicone that’s under her shorts.

“Why’d you wear that? Did you plan this?” You say accusingly. 

“Knew I’d need it. That’s all.”

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you say before smashing your lips onto hers.

Her hands meld into your ass. She uses her strength to move you back and forth on her lap, which forces you to grind into her. You whine into her mouth. She moves her kisses onto your neck and continues to rock you back and forth on her.

“Please, I want it.” You say, feeling yourself getting close from the way her pants are rubbing on your clit.

“Want what, sweetheart? C’mon, tell me.”

“Want your cock; don’t wanna cum like this.”

“You always ask me so politely. Love getting you worked up. S’the only time you’re not a brat.”

You pout at her and she smiles; knowing that her words are driving you crazy.

“C’mon, hips up,”

You shoot up off of her lap, causing her to laugh again. Of course, she takes her time taking off her shorts and boxers. When she finally does, she strokes the strap a few times, like she can actually feel it. She gives you a pointed look, and you know she’s ready for you to sit down on her. You’re careful, knowing that her strap can be painful; no matter how wet you are. When you finally do, you let out a small gasp. Tears immediately spring to your eyes as you start moving up and down on Abby. She wraps a strong arm around your waist; helping you. You shift and the backend of the strap hits her clit, causing her to moan out.

“Fuck, there y’go, baby. Taking it like a champ.”

The praise makes you move faster. You know that the strap is getting her off too. You fall into her neck and shudder, trying to roll your hips. You can’t deny you’re getting tired though.

“Always make mommy do all the fucking work, hm?” Abby says, catching onto your hints. “That’s okay. Y’know I’ll always take care of you.”

She starts moving your hips and up and down again.

She finds the spot that makes your hips twitch and your breath catch, “Oh, there it is– just needed me to find it, huh?” 

You bob your head up and down; your mouth hangs open. Abby closes it for you, wiping off the small dribble of spit that slipped out.

You feel your head grow fuzzier and fuzzier every time she moves your hips on her cock. You’re practically braindead. From her outfit, to the teasing, and how she wore the fucking strap under her clothes. You knew that you were in for. If you had a thought in your head that wasn’t about Abby’s cock, you’d be worried about how you’re gonna look at the party; how Abby is going to look. There’s no way that there’s not a wet spot on her pants. And you have to put back on your panties, that are soaked, after this. You want to beg her to start the car and take you back home. You want her to fuck you all night long. You feel a tear fall out of your eye and onto Abby’s shoulder.

“Y’cryin, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whine into her neck, the word gets caught up in a moan.

“My poor girl, what’s wrong?” Abby pushes you up so she can see your face. She pouts at you when she sees the tears. Never once does she stop moving your hips on top of hers. I mean– she’s not gonna delay her orgasm just because you’re a crybaby.

“Don’t wanna go to the party. Wanna stay like this forever.”

She tries to quiet a laugh, “I know. Mommy’s cock is so good, huh? Just wanna sit on it for eternity.”

You nod your head sincerely.

“Just focus on cumming, then we can talk about round two, yeah? Go on, rub your clit, sweetheart.”

You do as she says, reaching your hand between your bodies and rubbing the sensitive spot in rhythm with Abby’s movements. 

Obviously this wasn’t enough for her though. Before you know it Abby’s holding your hips off her lap and thrusting the strap into you. You almost cum just thinking about how strong she is. You look over at her arm and watch the muscle bulge as she holds you up into the air. You try to focus on your hand that’s supposed to be rubbing your clit, but you can’t. You press them both onto her chest, trying to feel her tits under the sports bra she’s wearing.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, taking one of your hands and moving the hair off your sweaty forehead. 

The windows were completely fogged. Abby had turned off the car, which meant she turned off the A/C. You don’t even care. At this point, she could fuck you on the side of a busy highway with a state trooper ten feet away, and you would let her.

“You look so pretty right now. So fucking pretty, doll. Gonna make you cum all over my cock.” 

This is how you know the strap is still hitting Abby’s clit– she’s rambling. No matter how cool she tries to act, the second the words start tumbling out of her mouth and she’s letting out low grunts, she’s done for.

You decide to be bold. “Am I making you feel good, mommy?”

She lets out a noise that borders on a growl, “Y’know you are, princess. Just keep being my little fuckdoll and I’ll cum, yeah?”

Her words do more damage to you than yours did to her. You’re a mess again, whimpering and clawing at her arms.

“I know you’re close,” she teases, “Cum for me, mommy’s gonna cum with you.”

With her permission, you let go. You feel yourself fall into her neck, but it feels like slow motion. You think you can actually hear your heart beating. The thick blood pumps inside of your ears, and it takes you a second to realize you’re still in the car, on top of Abby’s strap.

Abby rubs your back as you lay on top of her, pressing a kiss to your forehead a few times. “You’re alright, baby.” She says reassuringly, shushing you when you whine into her.

You sit up. Your brain is still mush– mush enough that you can finally voice your feelings. “I don’t wanna do this… thing anymore.”

Abby’s face goes blank, “Was it bad? Or too much? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fuck it up. Oh jesus I’m such–”

You cut her off, “No. It was really good. That’s why I wanna date. I don’t wanna just be friends who fuck anymore. I wanna be with you.”

“You wanna be with me because I fucked you in a car in the middle of nowhere?”

You scoff and hit her chest, moving off of her into the passenger seat.

“Come back here,” Abby says. You deny her, pressing your back to the door. Abby grabs your leg instead, massaging the muscles in your calf.

“You really wanna do it?” She asks. “What if it’s weird?” Her face scrunches up.

“I think this is definitely weirder than us dating.”

She laughs and nods her head. She goes to say something, then her phone rings, “Shit, it’s Nora.”

You try to listen to the conversation, but Abby’s phone is turned down, “What’s she saying?” You whisper.

Abby takes the phone off of her ear and puts it on speakerphone. Nora’s voice comes out clear, “Listen, we all know you’re fucking! You’re probably late because you’re fucking! No one cares, just get here.”

Abby goes red and immediately takes the phone off speakerphone. She gives Nora a quick ‘alright’ and hangs up the phone.

“We are not as smooth as we thought we were.” You say, trying to giggle your way through the embarrassment.  

“Well, now we have to tell them we’re dating, so buckle up. And put your panties back on.” Abby says while starting the car. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

SCREAMING CCCCRRRYYYyYY~IIIINNNNGGGG WHAAATTTT

My Wife [Natasha]

Summary : Y/N the adoptive daughter of Clint Barton got rejected multiple time by the Black Widow, the best friend of his dad

 Pairing :  Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Cursing, depression

Word count : 5059

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

“Here she is….AAAAHHHHH HERE’S MY WIFE.” You beam while jumping up and down a little bit once you get up from the couch, pointing to Natasha, who just entered the living room from her room.

A series of laughs, especially from your father, Clint, who is happy to see you with this enthusiasm just by Natasha walking into the same room as you are, already gives you so much joy that it hurts to think to himself

Keep reading

OH MY FUCKING GODDDD

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | series masterlist

After saving a mystical cat from a deathly experience, you're hauled into the world of Gods and Goddesses with one wish to get whatever it is you desire. Turns out, all you crave is the Goddess of Lust, Natasha Romanoff. Steamy entanglements turn into love-filled confessions, but the two of you were star-crossed from the very start.

pairing: goddess of lust! nat x G!P dom!fem!reader

genre: gods and goddesses AU / smut, fluff, angst (18+)

note: this started as a smut oneshot, but due to the overwhelming support of persisting individuals (cough 1k reblogs cough), i have decided to make it a short series! hope yall enjoy the lore and plot as much as i do

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

I. my divine goddess (2.5k)

II. a bloody lie (3.0k)

III. mortal demise (4.5k)

IV. devil's incarnate (2.7k)

V. unroyal flush

more chapters to come...

all chapters/rants/ideas/asks about this series will be tagged as ‘goddess natasha’!

© 𝐒𝐘𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍 2023 ━ do not copy, edit or translate

Love your workkk!!!!!

Soo I have a request…

Soo established relationships where the reader as a joke mockingly says something like about our old man Joel’s stamina or something 😭 and then ofc joel gives her a lesson whole night with all the filth 😛😭😭 (also can reader be like skinny framed small chested female) 💜

Thank you so much!! It means a lot! Hope you like it :)

Old Man

Summary: You usually joke about Joel's age, not only between the two of you, but also around other people. Either because he walks or runs slower than you, or just because he gets tired easily. He never complained about it - in fact, you thought he found it endearing. But you were so wrong, and he made sure he'd let you know when you got home safe.

Pairing: Joel x fem!reader, established relationship.

Content/Warnings: NSFW, smut (absolute filth), 18+ (minors DNI), age difference implied, fingering, giving oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (use protection kids), spitting.

Notes: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistake. Please feel free to leave any requests you'd like me to write. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you!

The walk through the forest on your way to Bill and Frank's house was calmer than you'd expected. With your hand in Joel's you didn't find a single clicker and you managed to relax a bit, walking slowly but not so slow in order to reach the village before lunch. Frank made sure to tell Joel that we'd be received with a proper meal, something you haven't had in a long time. So that was exciting. You didn't know them yet, but Joel made sure to let you know they were decent guys.

The place was mined with traps for clickers and you could see surveillance cameras everywhere. These guys knew what they were doing. Once you saw the gate opening and an unknown man greet you from afar, you out of instinct positioned yourself behind Joel. His broad shoulders completely hiding your small figure. You were scared, and that was understandable.

"You're alright, sweetheart." Joel assured you, holding your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss it for a second.

His words put you at ease, as you saw the man approach both of you. He shook Joel's hand with familiarity, looking at you after. The fact Joel trusted them was enough for you to do the same.

"Who's this beauty?" you heard him ask, extending his hand to shake yours.

You smiled. "None of that, please." You spoke before telling him your name. "Thank you for having us here."

"Our absolute pleasure. I'm Frank." he shot a smile at you again, before gesturing to the entry of the house. "And that's Bill over there." You looked at the man from a distance, just to notice a rifle on his hand. Frank noticed your expression. "Don't worry about him."

You smiled once again at Frank out of courtesy, but sneakily grabbed Joel's hand behind his back in worry.

"Let's sit! Lunch is almost ready." Frank gestured to the table set up on their front yard, and guided you both to his house with an extended arm.

***

"This is delicious!" You exclaimed.

"Bill made it." Frank pointed out.

"It's great, thank you so much." You kept speaking after putting down your glass on the table. You looked at Bill with an attentive eye.

"It's nothing much. Just meat that I hunted and some roasted vegetables from the garden." He kept his voice low and expression serious.

"Thank you, Bill." You heard Joel's voice from across the table in front of you.

"I'm sorry but I'm dying to know." You heard Frank at your right, as his body rapidly turned in your direction. "How did you meet this guy?" He gestured to Joel.

You looked at him and laughed. "Well, I had been alone for a while, and I was perfectly fine on my own." You made sure to look at him, mockingly. "But Joel found me in a time of need. He helped me without asking nothing in return. So I trusted him my life, and now we're here."

Frank smiled through the whole speech. "You must be the first, you know."

You shot him a confused look. "The first?"

He shook his head in approval. "The first to melt that old stone heart of his."

"Is it that noticeable?" You admitted.

"Please!" He exclaimed with a grin. "I've never seen him hug anyone, let alone kiss someone's hand that dearly."

You felt yourself blush slighty, before looking at Joel. He laughed, while telling Frank to cut it out.

"No worries, we're all lovers here." He placed his fork down on his plate. "How are you guys holding up?" He spoke now to Joel.

"We're making it alright. Walking from dawn to dawn is a bit tiring but we manage."

"Our old man here thinks he can handle that like a 20 year old. I notice his stamina's hanging on by a thread, always tired and irritable." You spoke while looking Frank in the eye. "It's like living with a 60 year old man." Just after, you turned to Joel, who was chewing his food slowly, fork in his right hand unattended, and turned his gaze from your glass to your eyes. His stare was somewhat still and serious. You analised his expression with confusion and mouthed a "what?" that only him could hear or see. He stared at you the same way before slightly grinning at you, dragging his eyes now to his plate, smile still plastered on his face while he brought food to his mouth. You continued looking at him until Frank spoke.

"I'm sure there's a car around here you could have." He wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin. "There's batteries in the houseshed. Take one and it's yours." I saw Bill shoot his partner a hard serious look, apprehensive.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bill insisted.

"Of course." He shot back at him. "There's also gas in there. Take some gallons."

"That's really not necessary, Frank." Joel spoke.

"Oh it is. I don't take her for a liar, you on the other hand, I've seen you lie for far less. I also know you're a stubborn old gentleman." He placed the napkin on his lap. "So please, take it. Use it. There's no point in it being there."

You looked at Bill for approval. He just continued eating with furrowed brows.

"Thank you." You spoke.

"No need. I'll go grab dessert." You saw Frank leave his seat and enter the house.

***

Joel had been awfully quiet since lunch, even when Frank showed us around all the shops who were still in need of renovation. Not even his contractor heart gave in a little bit. His mind seemed to be somewhere else.

"We don't know how to thank you both, honestly." You spoke as Bill and Frank helped you put your things in the trunk of your new car. It was getting dark already.

Frank repeated himself again, saying it was his pleasure.

Once Joel thanked the men for the hundreth time, he got in the car after opening the door for you. The journey was quiet for most part, until you spoke softly.

"Are you okay? You haven't spoken a lot."

He turned his eyes at you for a second, before connecting his gaze to the road again. "Just tired."

Your hand rested on his tigh, a familiar gesture you'd gained in the past few months. You thought nothing of his behaviour, you were both exhausted from the walk through the forest and the day filled with activities Bill and Frank made sure to provide you.

The ride went quickly, faster than you'd think it would. You filled it with quick pecks on Joel's right cheek, in order to 'wake him up' a bit. His hand travelled to the inside of your tigh, squeezing every once in a while. All was quiet.

As soon as you parked, you got out of the car in order to pick up both your stuff, as Joel would eventually carry all the weapons. When you returned you saw him carrying your stuff inside the house.

You spoke as you entered the house first, Joel following behind you. "I'm so fucking tired." You stretched your arms in the air before hearing a thud. All your weapons on the floor as Joel dropped them. Arms still in the air, you felt Joel's arms grab the middle of your body, folding you in half over his shoulder.

"Joel!" You screamed as he lifted you up in the air, adjusting you on his body. "What are you doing?"

He carried you in silence. This must be a joke, you thought. He's just being playful. He'll put you down soon enough, if you ask him to. You recognized the turns he took. After passing the kitchen right up front, passing through the main hall, up the stairs. Bedroom.

He didn't even bother to close the door. "Joel." You repeated, trying to catch his attention.

He dropped you in the middle of the bed with a throw. "Yes?" He aknowledged you as he started to unbuckle his belt, looking at your figure, legs bent, feet next to your tighs. His eyes were dark, his expression solemn. You moved up the bed on your back, as you watched him take his shirt off over his head and quickly discarting his pants. He paused for a second, looking at you, half clothed.

"Take your clothes off."

You quickly took your pants off, still looking him in the eye, overwhelmed by his demanding voice. "You take the rest." You replied.

He rapidly got closer to you, but you extended one of your naked legs, touching his chest, creating a gap between you both, trying to get his attention. "What is this?"

With more force than usual, Joel grabbed your leg and separated both of them, one to each side, hovering his body over yours, applying pressure on your chest. Your mouths were connected in an instant. His tongue not even asking permission to touch yours. His right hand went between your legs, slid your panties to the side and felt your wet core on his fingers, until quickly finding your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck, Joel." You breathed slowly on his ear.

"How are you so wet already?" He asked as he inserted two fingers inside you at once.

"Oh, fuck-" You moaned beneath him.

You heard him grunt as a response. His fingers pumping in and out of you rythmically, hitting your favourite spot every now and then, making you sigh every single time. Joel disconnected his lips from yours, only to travel down your body, and end up on your core. He wasted no time, immediately kissing your clit, while pulling his fingers in and out of you faster. Your hands flew to his head, grabbing and pulling on his silver strands of hair, which only made him respond in a gutural moan. The vibrations of his mouth sending you into a frenzy, giving you chills.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You were losing your fucking mind, begging him to take you right there and then.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” You heard him between your legs. “I’m not done with you down here.” He continued his rhythmic motions.

Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head as he hit the right spot with every pump. “I’m not gonna last longer.” You tried to spit words out of your mouth the best you could.

“Cum on my mouth, gorgeous.” He said before fastening his pace. It took you just a few seconds to arch your back in pleasure, grabbing his hair between your fingers and pulling viciously. With your eyes closed, you felt him remove his fingers from you, which left you with a sense of void. His body above yours again.

“Open wide.” He demanded.

You did as he told. He spat inside your mouth. You receiving it with contentment. You looked him in the eye while you swallowed his spit mixed with your own fluids.

“Shit, look at you.” His lips attacked yours. “So fucking pretty like this.”

“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You teased him.

“In a minute, sweet girl.” You saw him take his boxers off, throw them to the bedroom floor. He lifted your t-shirt over your head, removing it and made way to your breasts with his mouth, sucking on your nipples, biting them.

Just by looking at you, and without warning, Joel fully pushed himself inside you, letting you feel every inch of him stretch you beyond measure.

You couldn’t say a word, just animalistic noises came out of your mouth. Joel loved them so much he continued adjusting your pussy around his cock, feeling you clench every few seconds.

“Fuck Joel, stop teasing. Go faster.” You pleaded.

His voice next to your ear. “You’ve been teasing me all day, calling me old man. Telling people I haven’t got stamina.” It clicked in your mind. You always called him that dearly. You heard one more grunt from him as he thrust into you deeply. “Who’s been fucking you all this time?”

Your mouth falling open as the knot in your stomach build after a few faster thrusts, your head banging on the headboard.

“Who makes your eyes roll like that?” You heard him, head thrown back in the pillow. “Who makes you this fucking wet, hum?” You heard the wet noises you two made after he picked up his pace.

“You do, Joel.” You managed to spit out.

“Who makes you cum every single fucking night?”

Tears fell down your eyes, as you cried to reach your orgasm. “You do.”

“My sweet girl.” He continued, while wiping your tears for a second. “You’re gonna take me in your mouth, is that okay?”

“Yes.” Your answer to his question mixed with your cries as your orgasm sets free. Your moans echo all over the room, you can’t help it. Still enjoying your high, you feel Joel’s warm spur hitting your face, some entering your mouth, some spilling all over your cheeks and neck. You did the best you could to catch it all in. You opened your eyes to Joel with his cock in his hand, still rock hard.

“What a fucking sight.” He continued pumping his length. You swallowed his cum, until there was nothing to come out anymore. “God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You grabbed him by his neck, forcing him to glue his mouth to yours, letting him taste himself from your tongue for a minute.

Panting, sweaty and with disheveled hair, you looked into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t ever tease me like that again.” You demanded.

“You want it.” He paused, a proud cocky smile on his face. “Don’t ever call me an old man again.”

“You love it.”

You felt his arm wrap around your torso and pull you on top of him, sitting you up on his lap, just before lifting you up to the bathroom for a shower. The air contaminated with condensation and your laughter.

come over

abby anderson x fem! reader

summary; strangely enough, your number one enemy since kindergarten and captain of the basketball club of your college calls you up one night begging you to come over to her dorm room. after knocking on her door, things will take a turn that you would have never expected.

CW;; +18 content! minors dni!, cursing, dirty talk, nipple play, bullying and fights, teasing, oral sex (r receiving), strap on use (r receiving), abby calls the strap her cock, jealousy, possessiveness, dacryphilia, overstimulation, squirting, spanking, finger fucking, hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

You were having a really bad day. Not bad, horrible.

First of all, your alarm didn’t go off for some stupid reason and caused you to 1. getting late to school and 2. getting your teacher to lower your grade just because he’s a goddamn asshole that hates you.

Second of all, you’d forgotten your lunch and your wallet, so you were now starving unable to buy anything to eat (thank god one of your friends had shared with you her sandwich or else you would be dead by now). And third of all…

“And what do we have here?”

Her.

You rolled your eyes, feeling your skin heating up and your insides turning with disgust and anger as you turned around to face the most annoying fucking person you’ve ever met.

“Give it back, Anderson.”

Abigail Anderson, the name that would appear on your worst nightmares, the monster under your bed, the last person you’d ever want to live through the end of the world with... Your enmity had been going strong since kindergarten, when she had picked on you for your looks since day one just because. Then, she started to tell her friends and those around you to not go near you or else they’d catch lice.

She needed to be on top of you all the time; if there was a race on P.E, she’d make you trip with her foot to get you on your knees and win (leaving you all bloody and injured), if there were presentations to be made in front of the whole class she’d crack up jokes to make everyone laugh at you, giving you quite the public anxiety and if you somewhat got to win her in anything (probably at grades) she’d go nuts and get so pissed that she’d make your life impossible for the next few months by trashing your locker, ‘accidentally’ throwing her drinks all over you, telling the teachers that she saw you cheating…

It only got worse when you found your best friend: Ellie Williams. You became inseparable in high school. And she made your life impossible.

You stapled a poster at the university’s ‘news wall’. It was Ellie’s, she was about to go on a tour and had asked you if it would be okay to hang some posters to let everyone know. Through the years, The Fireflies had gained fame and a lot of followers.

“The freak is going on a tour?” she scoffed, raising her eyebrows. “Disgusting. She really thinks she’s gonna become a superstar or some shit…”

You fisted your hands, your heart being squished under the nickname that your friend had had to grow up with just because she liked things the others didn’t.

“Don’t call her that.” you said, your eyes straight into hers.

“ ‘Freak’?” she teased you, swaying away the poster when you tried and take it back. “What do you want me to call her then, hm? Delusional, maybe.” she thought out loud, when she noticed your furious expression, she simply shrugged. “Just stating facts.” the people around you had gathered to listen to your bickering. It was a daily coincidence now, Anderson being always the one looking for trouble. Some of them laughed at her words… Jerks. Just like her.

“You know what, Anderson? Sure, call her whatever you want.” you said, ripping from his hands the poster. “But I assure you, that you’ll never be not an inch of a girl that she is. All that height and still no brains. ” that made the crowd burst out in laughter. You were filled with proudness when you noticed her jaw tightening and her body going stiff. You were no outcast now, you were popular to be honest, and everybody knew the two of you since Anderson was the basketball team captain and you the cheerleader team captain. It was hell on the games, each of you always fighting each other off. But your teammates had grown so accustomed to it that they just laughed at your little fights. “So go ahead and run your mouth, ‘cause I’m sure yours will never get to places hers have never been.” you leaned in. “And hold your tongue, ‘cause Ellie knows how to use hers really well.” you whispered inches away from her face, giving her a wink before stapling the poster to the board and leaving her behind with tightened fists and heated cheeks.

It was a big day for you and your team, and you didn’t have time for play dates.

—

“y/n!” your eyes shone when to your ears the familiar sound of your best friend’s voice ringed.

You turned around, with your pompoms in hand and high ponytail, your college’s cheerleader uniform shining due to the lights that lightened the whole basketball court.

“Els!” you smiled, so bright that almost blinded, running and jumping on your friend’s arms, who easily caught you and squeezed you in a tight hug. “You made it!” you laughed as she twirled you around.

“Of course I made it, it’s your big night after all. Although I still don’t get this basketball and cheering thing…” she left a sweet peck on your cheek. “But look at you all dolled up! Is it for me?” she winked, leaning just the slightest in, enough for her to whisper on your ear.

You laughed, playfully pushing at her chest. “Of course Ellie, you know I’m all yours.” you winked back, making her let out a quick laughter.

“I really need to put a ring on you, Ms. Williams.” she pointed at you as the music that let the public know that the match was about to start started to play through the speakers and she backed off to the stairs to sit and leave you to your cheerleading.

“I’ll be waiting on it, Ms. Williams!” she sent you a flying kiss that only made you giggle and roll your eyes. You loved Ellie, she always found a way to make you laugh and that’s something that you truly appreciated. She was the only one that truly got you.

You turned around to call for your teammates, your smile fading as fast as your eyes bumped against those blue ones that you do well knew at this rate.

Anderson looked at you with such a pissed expression… Water bottle tightly clutched in one of her hands, about to burst. She let it fall to the ground along with the towel that stood on her shoulders when her coach called out for her with his whistle, giving Ellie, who was on the first step on your back a death glare as she ran to the center of the court to shake hands with the other team captain.

What the…

“Girls come on!!” you called for the cheerleaders on your team as you still looked at the stiff body of your incarnated hell. What the fuck is wrong with her?

“Assume positions!”

Not my problem.

You shrugged it off and started to cheer for your team along with the public that had come to watch the match, most of them students from both colleges. And through all of it, you tried and ignore the harsh eyes that bore holes on the back of your neck, even if your skin felt like being on fire.

…

It was late at night in your dorm room, your roommate having left to stay at her girlfriend’s house since it was Friday. You were snacking on some candy and chips as you watched your favorite show, Teen Wolf, along with Ellie, who had sneaked to your bedroom, laying in your bed fully covered and with your pjs on. After the game, which you sadly had lost, you had watched as a very infuriated Abby walked out of the court and the gym, not without giving you and Ellie, who was hugging you and congratulating you for your efforts regardless of the result of the match, a pretty harsh glare that clearly said ‘fuck you two.’

Jeez, you didn’t know what has gotten her so riled up that afternoon but you surely hoped for her to go and drown her sorrows somewhere as quietly as possible and leave you alone.

“Hell yeah!” you cheered to the power couple as they shared their first kiss, almost jumping and throwing all your chips around and on your best friend when Isaac and Allison finally shared their first kiss.

“Ugh. Really Allison?! I was expecting better from you.” the auburn haired guitarist gasped, acting hurt at the ‘betrayal’. She was team Scott. Which was obviously stupid since he now liked Kira.

“What are you talking about?! Scott has moved on, doesn’t she have the right to do so too?” Ellie gave you a side glance as in a ‘no’, but she quickly laughed when you hit her shoulder with a ‘hey!’.

Your attention was completely on the screen when your phone started buzzing on your side table. You took a new bite at your candy as you reached for it, still not focusing on it as you took. the call. It was probably your roommate calling to check in.

“Hello?” you talked into the line, waiting for a few seconds for an answer that never came. You checked the screen, ‘Unknown number’ showing on its center. You furrowed your eyebrows “Hello? Who’s this?” Ellie paused the series and rose to sit up on your bed along with you, mouthing a ‘who’s it?’. You simply shrugged and mouthed back a ‘no idea’. The sudden appearance of a sharp and heavy breathing caught you off ward for a couple of seconds before you rolled your eyes.

“Are you serious?” you huffed, thinking it was a stupid phone call. “We're in college, how about we stop playing Scream and start being more matures?” you said, and just as you were about to hang up, a rather familiar voice croaked out:

“y/n."

You froze, your breath hitching as your brain tried to convince itself that you had heard right “Anderson?” you were in shock for a couple of seconds, Ellie furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you in utter disbelief. When the casual anger grew inside you with just the mention of her name appeared you snapped at her. “Do you know what hour it is… No. Why the fuck are you calling me in first place?” you rolled your eyes. For just a couple of hours that you were enjoying yourself with your best friend, of course she had to come and ruin it. She always does and always will.

She was silent for an instant before her voice breaks out in a whimper that makes your stomach flip.

“Please.”

“W…What?” your eyebrows were knitted together so hard it was painful. Ellie just hits you in the arm, silently asking you to tell her what’s going on. You just swatted her hand away and lift a finger to quiet her.

“Please.” she repeated.

“Are you drunk or something? You should-“ you started, but she was quick to cut you off.

“y/n…” that was something different. The way your name fell from her lips in such need, hunger… “Come over. Please come over. I need you so bad…”

“I-“

“y/n, what is it?” Ellie spoke up, and you could hear the tension from the other part of the line rise.

“Fuck. Is Williams there with you?” Abby affirmed more than asked.

“y/n!” Ellie asked again.

“y/n.” but the voice of Anderson on the other line had you too out of focus. The way you could hear the begging on her tone, the need…

You didn’t know what had gotten over you, but you found yourself quick on your feet to grab your dorm keys.

“Wait for me.”

Ellie stood up as well and watch you hang up and made your way out of your room after putting on a pair of shoes.

“Where are you going?” Ellie inquired, completely and utterly lost. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be right back, I promise. I think there’s something wrong with Anderson. You can continue with the serie and use my bed, alright?” you quickly muttered, and when you caught her stepping closer and raising her hand to say something and find out whatever the hell was going on, you closed the door on her face.

You made your way over to her room’s wing, having been there before to parties and so. And before you knew it, you had knocked on her door. You didn’t have to wait a long time before she appeared on its threshold, her normally perfectly combed and braided hair being a mess, shirtless and with only a pair of sweats and a sports bra on. She looked like a mess, with red cheeks, swollen bitten lips, glassed eyes and shaky breathing.

“Anderson, what the hell are you…” a scream almost got ripped out of you at the harsh yank that took place on your arm. Before you knew it you had been pulled inside and smashed against the now closed door of her room, her body towering over yours and her breath caressing your face.

Fuck. You’ve never been this close before.

“You’re driving me insane.” she said, one of her hands cupping your cheek, dark shiny eyes connecting with yours before they’d drift back to your lips. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me all day. Knowing that Williams got to touch you, taste you… Is killing me. And her being in your room? Having you in her arms? Thinking about her just touching you is… Fuck.” you chocked. You didn’t understand. Wasn’t she supposed to hate you? Despise you? Then why…? “I can’t stop imagining her kissing you, holding you…” her thumb pressed over your bottom lip, tugging on it, admiring. “You were supposed to pay attention to me. You were supposed to think about me.” your heart was thumping against your ribs, and you felt like dying when she harshly kissed you. It was fast, and angry. Her tongue was quick to push inside your mouth, your teeth clashing and your body being pulled against her. You whimpered, your hands finding her hair as you pulled her closer. You’d never felt this way. How your whole body seemed to combust, the shaking of your limbs, the thumping of your heart…

But what was going on? ‘Pay attention to her’? ‘Think of her’? What was that supposed to mean? Had Anderson always treat you badly to get your attention? To get under your skin one way or another?

You were burning, so badly that she felt like snow.

“Fuck.” she muttered as she pulled away. “Been dreaming of doing that since the first time you yelled at me.” you whimpered when her warm hands took a harsh hold of your waist, pulling you against her close and tight enough for you to feel her body heat, her hard nipples through her bra.

Her mouth was back on yours, and your whole world was spinning. Her hair on your hands, her gasps against your lips, her pine scent…

“Yeah, that’s right.” she muttered, a little smirk showing in her factions when she noticed your dazed and unfocused eyes. “Focus on me. Just me.” she whispered on your ear before her lips latched to your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough to mark you up. You moaned, her hands sneaking inside your pj’s shirt and slowly making its way upwards, towards your chest.

“Fuck, Anderson.” you gasped when her warm hands took your tits, massaging them and rolling your nipples in between her fingers as she pressed a leg in between your legs, making your aching pussy brush against the lean muscle of her thigh.

“Abby.” she corrected. “It’s Abby for you, baby.”

“Abby.” you moaned when she pushed upwards with her leg, helping you ride it.

“That’s right. But you need to say it a little bit louder, hm? Need to let everybody know that it’s me who you are moaning for.” you whimpered at her words, her large hands leaving your chest to take your hips and pick you up to make her way to her king size bed. She lifted you so easily it was dizzying, the muscles of her arms popping

You felt almost crushed against the duvet when she pinned you down to it underneath his weight. Almost, ‘cause right at that exact moment, you just wished she could be closer, she could be harsher, smush you against the bed and fuck you senseless ‘till you are nothing more than a babbling mess.

“That’s right.” she smirked when you pulled him closer, choked when her hands were once again pulling your top up slowly. “Fuck. You drive me insane.” she muttered when your chest was fully uncovered. “Fucking beautiful.” you moaned when her mouth left wet kisses on your chest. Her tongue circled your nipples as one of her hands made its way to the seam of your pajama pants and panties, which stood completely soaked in arousal.

“Abby.” you cried out when her fingers caressed you from over the lace of your underwear, chuckling at the wetness of them.

“You are so wet for me already, such a good girl…” you almost whimpered, your cheeks blushing at the praise, something that didn’t go unnoticed. “You liked that, hm? Like to be my good little girl?” you nodded, your legs shaking when she finally pushed down your underwear and pjs to touch you. You gasped when her rough and thick fingers pressed against your core, sliding through your folds, pooled in your arousal. “So fucking wet.” she cursed as she circled your clit, making you moan. Her touch was electrifying. “Is all of this for me?” you once again nodded. “I need to hear your pretty voice. Speak up for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes… It’s all for you.” you managed to sputter out.

“Mmh…” she hummed happily with the answer, smirking when you let out a loud moan as she pushed her middle finger inside of you, instantly hitting that spongy spot that could make you come over and over again. “Then I guess that if it’s all for me… I could have a taste. Isn’t that right?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you suddenly felt her tongue around your clit at the same time as she thrusted her finger in and out of you, slowly enough to have you gripping at her hair and bucking your hips in search of more.

She complied, starting to eat you out like a woman starved. And she kind of was, having been craving you for years and years… She craved you, needed you so badly that her composure had plummeted once you’ve told him that Ellie had touched you, kissed you, tasted you first…

She wanted you. Wanted you to be solely and completely hers.

“Ah, Abby, shit…” you were so sensitive. More than usually. Was it because Abby was too good at eating you out or because it was Abby who was eating you out?

“Louder, baby. I need you to be louder for me.” she said before going back to you, her tongue lapping up at your juices and adding another finger. Their thickness made you cry out her name loud enough for the whole floor to hear. You just hoped that there was no teacher doing the check-ins that night or you’d be screwed.

“Abby, I’m… I’m gonna…” your grip tightened on her hair.

“You’re gonna come? Gonna come on my face, hm?” she curved her fingers upwards, relentlessly hitting your g spot over and over again, pulling you closer to your orgasm. “Go ahead, come for me. Let me have it.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. With her tongue back circling your clit, you moaned as you came, harsh, on her tongue, her helping you to extend you climax by thrusting in and out her fingers whilst lapping at your release, drinking everything you had to offer in between moans and hums.

When she let go of you, licking her two fingers clean, you were a flustered mess; with your hair sticking everywhere, red cheeks, swollen lips and glossy eyes. And she wasn’t that different from you, with her chin and red puffy lips shiny with your juices, her cheeks were flushed and her hair a beautiful blonde mess that you had created in between tugs and caresses. She looked beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn’t help dragging her towards you to taste yourself off of her lips, one of your hands finding her aching pussy, soaking her panties. She groaned in your mouth, pulling from your hair to part ways.

“Abby…” you cried out, your eyes half-lidded with need, your pussy aching for her.

“What is it, hm?” oh but she already knew… “Haven’t you had enough already? I gave you my fingers and my mouth, is that not enough for you? What a needy slut…” you moaned at her harsh tone and degradation, the contrast with the recent praise making your skin burn and your body cry for her. You needed her so badly… So much that you swore you could die. “Want me to fuck you, hm? Want me to make you cum all over my cock? Have you all brainless as I use you?”

“Yes please Abby, please, I want it.”

“So pretty begging for me, do you want it that bad?” you nodded, squirming under her touch and whimpering when she gave your thigh a harsh slap. “Can’t hear you, beautiful.”

“Yes.” you cried out, loving how harsh she was treating you, loving the idea that she would use you just for her pleasure.

“Then say it. Beg me to fuck you.” another spank.

“Please Abby, I want you to make me cum all over your cock, please, please, please… I need it. I need you.” tears swelled in your eyes as you stuttered.

“Good girl. Wasn’t that hard, was it?” she said with a smirk, quickly shoving his sweats and underwear down her thighs to discard them aside and reach out for her drawers, pulling out her strap. You almost choked at the size. You couldn’t take that.

It was huge. So thick and large that you knew that she’d tear you apart, stretch you out so good that would leave you sobbing and drooling against her pillow as she fucked into you over and over again.

“What? Bigger than William’s?” she teased you as she towered over you, strapping it to her waist. You would have answered if you weren’t too focused on the pink of its head and on the veins of its sides. On her pussy too. “You’re staring, pretty girl.” you blushed, looking away and into her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Abby.” you snapped, and she groaned, once again pinning you underneath her and kissing you feverishly. You parted your legs for her to position himself in between them.

“There it is. That fucking mouth of yours. How about I fuck the attitude out of you, hm?” you gasped on her mouth when you felt the head of the strap play with your cunt, slowly dragging up and down in between your slicked folds to lube it up, teasing you at your entrance, pushing just the slightest against it. You were so fucking wet… More than you had ever been before.

“Fuck Abby, please…” you whimpered, your hips thrusting against the tip of her cock. You needed it inside.

Your nails found her back as she finally, after hearing your pleads and begging, aligned herself and started to push the tip of her cock inside, leaving you breathless at the stretch.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” she hushed you as you whimpered with every inch. “You are gonna do good for me, isn't that right baby? You are gonna take it, gonna take my cock and cum on it over and over again, right?” you nodded, sinking your nails deeper in her skin, deep enough to make her bleed. But Abby didn’t care, ‘cause he was finally making you hers, and you were so goddamn tight she was losing her mind. She couldn’t even pull backwards at the clenching of your walls.

You were crying of pleasure and due to the overwhelming sensation of her huge cock when she finally had settled herself fully inside, the tip reaching places you’d never dreamed of, the girth stretching your walls so good it was almost painful. Almost.

"Fuck. Look at you. Already crying and I haven't begun to fuck you yet.” you moaned when she started to slowly fuck into you, so deep that you were going crazy. You needed more, so much more. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

“More. Please Abby, more.” you called out for her, your whimpers filling the room more and more as she started to move faster and faster.

“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking take it.” she groaned, lost on how good you felt. She never wanted to leave. Never wanted to stop feeling you this close. “Such a good girl.”

You moaned, your eyes turning white at the pleasure. This was like nothing you had experienced before.

“Tell me, did Williams fucked you this good, huh?” she asked, taking your cheeks with her right hand as she rolled your clit with her left to make you look at her. “Did she make you drool? Made you cry?”

You shook your head, but she wasn’t happy with that.

“Say it. Say that no one’s has fucked you like me. Say it, baby. Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

“No one has ever… ever fucked me like you.” you somehow achieved to say in between moans and gasps.

“That’s right. Look at you, your pussy is taking me so good… Sucking me in as if you don’t want me to leave.”

Suddenly you were in all fours, your chest against the mattress as she pounded inside of you harder and harder, so hard that you could feel her in your cervix, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried out, drooling on her pillow, tears spilling due to how good she was making you feel.

Her hands found your hips, pulling you against her hips with every hard thrust, leaving you breathless.

You were a babbling and moaning mess, incapable to form any words, even her name.

“Look at you, so cock drunk you can’t even speak.” she said, and moaned when the strap rubbed perfectly her puffy clit. “Such a slut.” you whimpered when she gave you a harsh slap on your ass, her eyes focusing on how her dick disappeared in and out of your pussy, which now seemed to be molding around her and just her.

“Abby…” you dragged the ‘y’ as she sped up, fucking you brainless, calling her name over and over again.

She could feel the way you started to clench around the silicone. The wet noises of your juices and her thrusts filled the room with your high pitched moans. You were close. So fucking close…

“Abby, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna…” your voice was so fucked up due to your screams that you swore you’d have a sore throat tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care.

“That’s alright sweetheart. Why don’t you come all over my dick, hm? Let me see you fall apart.” and you did. You came so hard you saw stars, your ears ringing as you squirted all over her bed sheets. “Fuck, good girl. Good. fucking. girl.” she groaned at the sight of your cunt gushing around her whole cock.

You were an incoherent mess as you came over and over again, drooling on her pillow and throwing her over the edge with a ‘fuck’.

And maybe and just maybe, you stopped hating Abby that much from now on.

‘Cause we all know what they say… From hatred to love there is only one step.

-

a/n; i hoped y’all liked this college abby!! love you!!!!🩵

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<33333

mother of mine

ellie williams x maternal!reader

cw : mother!reader, mother/daugher relationship, mentions of death, blood, canon game violence. angst. hurt no comfort.

wc : 1.2k

His blood still stained your hands as you left the vase on his grave, the glass filled with peace lilies you’d found somewhere along the way. No matter how much you scrubbed, the crimson seemed to be engraved into the ridges of your hands. A constant reminder of his death. You swiped off some of the snow that accumulated on his headstone, letting your fingers trace over the lettering of his name. It didn’t feel real, somewhere along the way you’d fallen into some false sense of security. One that promised you that he’d always be around, that you’d never have to live without him. 

Yet, here you were. 

“Mom?” Ellie’s voice drew you from your thoughts, accompanied by her trembling hand on your shoulder. She’d been with you when it all went down, seeing firsthand the massacre that was Joel's death. You’d blamed yourself, mostly, for not being more vigilant- for not being able to protect them when it all came down to it. The truth was, you’d spent every day since then regretting not being there sooner, not being able to spare your poor daughter the trauma of seeing her chosen father die. 

You blinked your tears away, looking up towards the girl, giving her a small smile as you came to stand up. “Hey, bug.” You hummed, wiping your hands off on your jeans as you regained your composure. If there was one thing you made sure not to do, it was breakdown around Ellie. She’d been through too much already, you didn’t want her to worry about you at the same time. She came first, even when you’d barely been able to bring yourself to eat or sleep- she always came first. 

She looked so tired, bruises decorating her right eye in a mosaic of blue and purple. The sight took you back to that night, to the sound of her screams as she begged for Joel’s life, you felt your stomach churn. “I’ve been looking for you, Maria told me you might've been here. I would’ve come sooner but-” 

You cut her off, nodding. You understood why she didn’t come, she didn’t need to explain herself. Joel’s death hit her particularly hard, considering how close they’d become over the past few years. Though lately, they’d been in a rocky patch- something you thought would just blow over with time. God, if you’d only known how short that time would’ve been cut. “What’s going on, Bug?” You asked, shifting from foot to foot as you watched her eyes cloud with uncertainty. “Talk to me.” It wasn’t like Ellie to be so nervous, yet you’d let that thought go considering how much she’d seen. Her actions didn’t need justification or explanation, she just simply was- and that was enough for you. 

Because every day you woke up expecting it to be next to Joel, only to be in a cold empty bed. 

Every day you accidentally made twice the amount of coffee necessary. 

Every day you looked at his laundry that sat awaiting the washing machine, knowing you’d never bring yourself to wash them.

Every day you saw his face, bloody and discolored as he died reaching out for his daughter.

Every day you heard her screams. 

Every day you found comfort in the knowledge that the only child you’d ever have was alive, despite everything, she was alive. 

“I’m leaving.” Ellie blurted out, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked to you for a reaction. At that moment she felt like time had completely stopped, frozen in that second as you stared at her with an expression that reminded her of a kicked puppy. Her eyes were shifty, glancing between you and Joel’s mound of dirt as she reaffirmed her decision. Even if you didn’t understand, in some ways, she was doing this for you too. She was doing it for the light she’d watch smother behind your eyes at the nonstop grief that lingered around you. 

You didn’t speak, feeling nauseous as you felt your heart skip a beat. “W-what?” You finally managed, a wave of confusion crashing over you as you reached out for her. This wasn’t real, there was no way that this could be real. After everything the two of you had been through, she was leaving? That couldn’t be right, it couldn’t. This had to be some kind of sick joke, something done to scare you into being a better mother. Because even that would be kinder than the former. 

The girl took a step back, avoiding your touch. “I’m going to Seattle to find them.” She explained, her heart hammering in her chest as she looked down at the thin layer of icy snow. It was something she felt like she had to do, seeing no other way to continue to live with herself. Though her solemn expression didn’t communicate it, her tears had been replaced with a burning rage. A need to find the people that did this to her dad, your husband. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” She knew it was going to take more than this to make you let her go and as much as it hurt her- she’d realized what she needed to do. 

“Ellie, no.” You laughed in disbelief, the inescapable sadness settling back in as you looked at the girl you’d practically raised. In all of the years, you’d had the joy of caring for her and becoming the mother she needed- you never thought you’d be here, shoulders shaking as silent sobs attempted to escape your mouth. You couldn’t decide whether you were angry or upset, a mix of emotions bubbling over as hot tears came to spill down your chapped cheeks. You’d cried so much they were raw from the constant rubbing. “You’re not going. Tell me you’re not going.” 

Her face was like stone, unmoving as you pleaded with her. She hated this, she wanted nothing more than to fall into your arms and stay there but the aching in her chest called for something more. Love couldn’t heal the damage done by Joel’s death, nothing but revenge could ease the ache. “I’m sorry, mom.” She had to hurt you. That’s the only way she’d be able to slip from the emotional grip you had on her heart. 

You felt a hole open up in your chest, lip trembling as you tried to rationalize this. There had to be some way to make this better, someway to keep the family you’d created together. Yet, as you searched your brain for an answer, it all began to fall apart. The walls you’d built to protect her from your own grief came tumbling down in a messy combination of tears and gasps. “Ellie, my girl, please.” You sniffled, a hand moving to rest upon your heart, in some failed attempt to calm yourself. “I-i can't lose you too. Please, don’t do this. We can figure something out.” 

Ellie was the only thing you had left. The only real connection you’d made in the past five years, despite all of the roadblocks you’d run into. You two always seemed to make it out on top, being by each other's side first as friends and now as a family. Fuck, she’d even started calling you mom about a year ago- just out of the blue- completely unprompted by Joel or yourself. It warmed you, knowing how much you meant to her, yet now as you begged her to stay- you saw the familiar withdrawal enter her body from all those years ago. She was keeping you at arm's length, not letting you get too close. 

“Bug-,”

“I’m going and it would be better if you didn’t try to stop me, (y/n).” 

THIS WAS SOOO🤪😗😌😇🙂😘😛😋😂🤣🥲😃☺️😋😛🤪😎😝😝🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 SPEACHLESSSSS

honey don't feed it, it will come back (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Bodyguard!Joel x Sex Worker F!Reader

Summary: You run a brothel in the Boston QZ, devoting yourself to taking care of your girls. When the safety of one is threatened, you hire a bodyguard in the form of the surly Joel Miller to protect them. Little did you know that you were going to become his new favorite vice, and him your favorite addiction.

Warnings: MDNI Explicit Smut (oral f receiving, v fingering, Joel jacks off while going down on Reader, dirty talk, bit of a sir kink, bit of a brat tamer dynamic). Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart). Alcohol/drug use. Sex work (Joel listens to Reader). Age gap (20 years). Mentions of physical assault (towards minor characters, never from Joel. Not stated to be sexual assault but it can be inferred as such, so please take care of yourselves).

Wordcount: 9.6k (how the fuck)

The world was fucked to all hell and back, and so what did men do in those circumstances?

“Oh fuck,” your customer was grunting as he fucked into you from behind, your hands on the headboard as it rocked against the wall to keep yourself up, breathy moans expertly leaving your lips to spur them on, even if you hadn’t felt an inkling of desire in years.

Yeah.

They fucked.

Fight or flight were often referred to in the first years following the Outbreak, a default of survival instinct that most everybody resorted to in order to survive.

But fucking was the much less talked about, incredibly prevalent third option.

It became clear in the Quarantine Zones that there was a need to be filled here, a way to satisfy that urge in a way that wouldn’t cause a barely held-together society inside high walls to erupt into chaos.

From this need, brothels made an appearance. While FEDRA had nothing to do with the establishments officially, they turned a very convenient blind eye to the street corners where women trying to make some kind of a living in the QZ took up their stations, tempting any lonely man who may wander by into a night of needed release.

It was a dangerous profession, in its own way. Contraceptives were long expired twenty years after the society collapsed, and even if a client pulled out at the best time and you were keeping track of your cycle, there was always the risk of being put out of work for around 9 months if you were unlucky.

And then came the obsession.

Clients could become far too eager far too quickly, addicted to the touch and feeling of a certain girl, mistaking lust for affection and lurking around those street corners before the night even came or, worse, outside the brothel doors.

You’d experienced it first-hand and through other girls, but it wasn’t until one of the younger ones came to you with a black eye and bruised jaw that you had had enough.

“Who did it?” you said in a low tone, breathing deeply in and out through your nose as you tried to control yourself, reigning yourself back in from the need to grab the gun you kept tucked in the top drawer of your rickety old nightstand and find who the fuck had laid their hands on one of your girls in such a way.

After years of being in the business, you had gone from only taking clients to keeping a watchful eye over the other women who made the same living you did. Your glory days were mostly behind you, but you still had your reputation, even after the incident that left you with a jagged scar that stretched vertically across the right side of your face, from above your eyebrow, down across your eye to just below your cheekbone.

Those clients you did still have preferred to fuck you with you facing away from them now, but you weren’t complaining. Not seeing their ugly faces as they used you to cum helped you dissociate, focus your thoughts on how well you were going to eat the next few days because of a few minutes of sacrifice.

The young woman whose lip was trembling as you held her hands gently in yours now was hardly past her early twenties, a sweet young thing who you had taken under your wing when she confessed needing a way to get some extra ration cards for her little brother who had gotten sick recently.

You had snuck Isabel some of your own ration cards with each of her payments, not caring that you had a bit less to eat each night, especially when she had come to you a couple weeks later with a bright smile and the news that her brother’s health had improved.

Now that smile that could light up the whole goddamn QZ was nowhere to be seen, an abject horror darkening her gaze, making her angelic face gaunt as you reached up to gently hold it, tilting it so you could assess the extent of the damage.

Her eyes, a deep honeyed brown that had drawn in the most clients your brothel had seen in years, were avoiding yours as you searched for her gaze, and you gently directed her face back towards you, voice softer as you implored her, “Isabel. Please, talk to me, babygirl.”

A choked sob was the first sound to leave her mouth then at the sound of your genuine affection. The world may be fucked, but protecting these girls was your purpose. And the thought of not being enough to protect them, for one of them to come to you like this…

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you whispered as her petite form collapsed against yours, holding her close as you smoothed a hand over the tangles in her hair, gently combing them out with your fingers as your other hand rubbed at her back. “It’ll be okay, love. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Even as you assured her, a fear was creating pressure in the back of your mind, causing the first of many sleepless nights as you tried to figure out how to make sure this could never happen again.

You sat at your little makeshift desk in your tiny room on the top floor of the brothel, a cheap cigarette you had just gotten from a couple smugglers perched between your fingers as you slowly exhaled the smoke, staring down at your incoherent scribbled notes.

With a groan, you pushed yourself away from the desk, standing to cross over to the small window on the wall, gazing out in paranoia to make sure there were no dark shadows lingering nearby, waiting to get a hold of one of your girls if they didn’t want it.

Glancing back down at the lit cigarette, you pondered your few options.

FEDRA was not a viable source for protection. Yes, they turned a blind eye on your activities, but they would never risk their image by offering guards for your girls. Besides, you didn’t trust anybody in one of those uniforms within an inch of your life.

Fireflies weren’t a fucking option either. Those jackasses were so far up the proverbial ass of justice that they couldn’t see the actual struggles of the real people around them, subjecting them to be collateral in whatever useless statement they were making lately.

The cigarette was raised halfway to your lip when you paused, staring down at it as you suddenly had a small epiphany.

Who did you know that had not an ounce of a moral code, but a strong work ethic and determination to get the job done for a good deal that promised a stack of ration cards?

A smirk curled onto your lips then as you brought the cigarette back to them, placing it in your mouth as you took a long drag, exhaling it towards the window and watching it fog up the glass as you realized exactly who you were heading to.

“We don’t do protection,” your smuggling contact was saying, her voice as gruff and no-nonsense as always, and you sighed, meeting her sharp green eyes straight on as you shifted to cross your legs.

“Don’t bullshit me, Tess,” you said flatly back, your voice not harsh, but definitely firm, calling her out on her bluff even as you saw her ever-present guard dog shift a ways behind her at your tone. “You’ll do anything for a good trade. And I have that.”

“I don’t wanna fuck your girls,” Tess dismissed, waving her hand as if to brush the thought away, and you rolled your eyes, even as you couldn’t help a smirk, glancing at your associate with a small hint of mirth that matched her own.

“I’m not offering that,” you replied honestly, slowly drumming your fingers at the small table you were both seated at in one of the back alleys where these deals tended to go down. Public enough to avoid a shootout, but private enough to avoid FEDRA breathing down your backs. “My girls get paid for their work. So would you.”

Tess raised an eyebrow then, leaning in just a fraction, and you knew that you had captured just a fraction of her attention.

Good. You could work with that.

“What are we talking?” she asked in a low tone, voice still disinterested, gaze still closed off, but you knew that would change when you laid out the conditions of the deal.

When you did—offering a heft of ration cards (that they didn’t need to know was almost your entire cut of the brothel’s proceeds) for an able body to keep watch at your brothel during active business hours—Tess leaned back again, eyes flickering over your face as she processed the information.

“You know I’m good for it, Tess,” you implored, allowing a bit of emotion to creep into your tone now as you meet her gaze, hoping she would hear what you were asking for, woman to woman. “And these girls…they need it.”

She frowned then, sympathy flashing over her face as she glanced over yours, hearing what went unsaid.

Tess began to turn her head slightly over her shoulder, though she didn’t bother sparing a glance back as she called, “Joel.”

That was the first time you think you’d heard the name of her silent, watchful companion.

You knew that they were a package deal, but whenever you met with Tess, he lingered in the background, making sure you didn’t lay a hand on her.

Good, you thought to yourself, glancing over at him as he pushed himself off the wall and strolled over just at the unspoken order she gave for him to approach. If he’s who she has in mind, hopefully he does the same for the girls.

It was also the first time you really got a look at the man who Tess finally introduced you, explaining to the both of you how this was going to work at the same moment.

With those thick arms that could be around your neck as fast as you could blink, hardened dark eyes that were already measuring you up and calculating at least six ways to take you out before you could even open your mouth to say hello, you knew that just the sight of him in your brothel would strike fear into the depraved hearts of meeker, cowardly men.

He was older, too. Maybe had twenty years on you, and if somebody had lived that long in the apocalypse, they had to know how to get their hands fucking dirty if they needed to.

“I’ll take him,” you said back to Tess after appraising the man who would be your brothel’s bodyguard, your attention only pulled back to the hunk of muscles when you heard him scoff at your words. “There a problem?”

“I’m not a piece of meat,” he grunted, expression flat as he stared at you, and you arched an eyebrow, unamused by his comment that came right after you and Tess had agreed to the terms of the deal.

“Hate to break it to you, but a bodyguard is nothing but that,” you replied as you gracefully uncrossed your legs, rising to your feet as Tess collected their first payment from you off the table, pushing it into her front pocket as she rose from her own seat as well. “Muscle that can drop a man at a moment’s notice.”

You watched as Joel’s strong jaw ticked, your other eyebrow rising with the first as you stepped around the table, getting closer to the man than you probably should, watching as his tense shoulders bunched up even more around his ears when you approached. 

“And now, you’re my muscle, Mr. Miller,” you said in a perfectly conversational tone, a practiced smile pulling onto your lips as Joel glanced down at them briefly before looking back into your eyes, his gaze narrowing as you added, “Pleasure to be doing business with you.”

Spinning on your heel, you strolled away from the smugglers towards the exit to the alley, but not without saying back over your shoulder before you got too far, “First shift’s an hour after curfew. Don’t be late.”

There was the sound of low grumbling behind you, followed by the smooth low tones of Tess’ voice, and you didn’t know why you felt the urge to laugh at that moment.

You didn’t know why, because you hadn’t laughed in years.

But you brushed that feeling aside, heading back towards your establishment to ready your girls for the change that would be coming in their worlds tonight, hoping that it would give them the peace of mind you all so desperately needed.

Whether you would be able to relax all depended on if Joel Miller could actually do his job.

He could.

One of the very first nights Joel had taken up station in the main hallway in the brothel that led off to private rooms, he had proven his worth, and then some.

You had been down the staircase in an instant when you heard the loud crash, heart racing in your chest, breath quickened from panic as you rounded down to see what had caused the loud sound.

Some thumps and bumps were common in an establishment like yours, but that sounded very much like a body not only hitting the ground, but being thrown down onto it.

What you saw then was an image that etched itself deep into your brain for the rest of your days.

Joel, your brand new, stoic bodyguard who hardly gave so much as a grunt to you or any of the girls he was hired to protect, had a half-naked man pressed to the old floorboards, knee digging right into his back to pin him down, a large hand keeping a tight grip on his neck to stop him from moving.

But what got your attention even more than the struggling client who Joel was snarling at as he roughly kept them down, was the girl who was standing behind him, arms wrapped around herself and subconsciously shifting to stay behind the bodyguard, eyes wide and relieved at the sight of him catching the out of hand customer.

You walked towards the scene that had drawn spectators in the form of clients and workers alike, peeking their heads out into the hallway to watch as you slowly knelt down in front of where the bastard was pinned so roughly to the ground that you weren’t sure he could even breathe.

Good.

You glanced up at Joel then, meeting his hard gaze with one of your own, and you gestured with a jerk of your chin towards the staircase leading down and out of your establishment that he could throw them out.

After rising to your feet, you paused next to Joel, watching from the corner of your eye as he grabbed the man roughly, yanking them to their feet and halting in his task only when you briefly laid your hand on his shoulder.

“Let him know not to come back,” you muttered under your breath, sending a sidelong glance full of unspoken things towards Joel, a tiny smirk curling onto your lips as the whimper of fear from the sick bastard and your bodyguard’s short nod let you know you’d been heard.

You walked straight towards your girl who had nearly been treated in a way you would not tolerate towards any of your women, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her against you, letting her sink into your warmth as you addressed the rest of the brothel that everything was fine, to resume their activities while Joel shoved the guy down the stairs as they started to beg for mercy.

Luckily, there weren’t many similar incidents after that one, letting you know the investment into a well-abled bodyguard for your girls had been more than worth it.

Because more than the concrete evidence of their safety, it was the palpable shift in energy at the brothel that reassured you that you had made the right choice not only in having a bodyguard, but in who you hired.

Joel never really warmed up to anybody, but all the girls had certainly grown fond of him. There were more than a few crushes on the emotionally unavailable older man who stood like a statue in the halls, ranging from innocent love to lustful fantasies.

There were a handful of times one of your girls had offered their services to him, some even trying to get him into a room free of charge, but Joel turned down every one—interestingly enough, it was never without kindness. Each time a proposition was offered, the detached bodyguard would give a slight shake of his head, mumbling a “no thank you, ma’am” in that deep Southern drawl that soon made almost every girl in that building buckle at the knees.

The fondness your girls had for Joel Miller became ingrained in the way the brothel functioned, and you knew that you couldn’t get rid of him even if you wanted to, even if that meant continuing to share a large portion of your personal livelihood with him.

And maybe you were crazy, but you thought that maybe Joel had a bit of warmth in that tiny, shriveled up heart for your girls, too. Sometimes he’d eye a client up and down before giving the girl with them a respectful nod and a polite murmur of their name as a greeting, and you didn’t know why the familiarity of the stoic man warmed your own barbed wire heart, but it did.

Maybe it was because after all the shit they’d gone through to survive long enough to reach this point, they deserved to experience an ounce of genuine kindness from a man, without having to think about what they had to offer him.

Still, Joel irritated you. Any hint of kindness he had for your girls was never shown towards you, but you didn’t let it get to you. You were his employer, and the only times you ever really interacted with each other were the few short seconds it took him to head up the stairs to your office, collect his payment with you and leave.

Besides, you weren’t exactly the most gentle with him either.

You’d taken up a habit of poking fun at your bodyguard, a little teasing here and there about things like his face getting stuck if he never unfurrowed his brow, a comment that only made him scowl further, the sight pulling forward again that urge from deep within your bones to laugh.

But you never laughed, even as you smirked up at him before turning on your heel and going on about your work keeping the place running smoothly.

That work mainly involved management and finances, but when you began to realize you soon wouldn’t be able to keep supporting yourself with keeping Joel on as a bodyguard, you knew you’d have to start doing something a little extra.

Time to go back to your roots.

For all his time working at the brothel, Joel had never seen you take a client.

In fact, he could probably count on one hand the amount of times he had seen you in the hallways, only to check on a few of the girls from time to time.

But most of the time you were holed up in that small office upstairs, the one he entered for a minute or two at a time, long enough for you to gather his payment and give it to him so he could be out of your hair—or, more accurately, to get you out of his.

Because fuck, you were irritating. You knew exactly how to get on his nerves, and Joel suspected you actually enjoyed doing so, for whatever goddamned reason.

Still, the job paid well. He was living with a bit more comfort in the QZ than he ever had before with those cushy extra ration cards.

And besides, he was actually, maybe a little bit attached to the girls who worked these streets. They were kind, just making a living in the best way they could, and needed somebody to protect them.

Maybe there was also a part of Joel that needed somebody to protect.

He had to admit though, for all his aggravation towards your mere existence, Joel did respect you. You were the person who kept this place up and running, the one who looked after every need of each woman, the lady who had cared for them enough to search for a protector to keep them safe.

Joel had honestly assumed that you didn’t do sex work at all, just judging from how you were never in one of those rooms.

But tonight, you were walking up the staircase from the base floor instead of down from your office, drawing Joel’s attention and subsequent confusion when he saw what you were wearing.

Gone were the baggy jeans you usually wore around the brothel, replaced by thigh-highs that enveloped soft skin he had never seen before. There were just hints of lace at the top of the hosiery from where the tight black dress hugging your curves rode up with each step you took.

It had to have been one of the least scantily clad outfits he’d seen down these halls, but something about the sight of you wearing it caused a lump to form in Joel’s throat, an itch curling inside his veins that needed to be scratched when you turned your head back, offering a sly smile different from any you had sent him towards somebody behind you.

When you ascended to the top of the stairs, Joel saw the man following you, his back stiffening for more than one reason.

The first reason was that he knew this man. Not personally, but he had seen them around—on wanted posters, specifically. They were a higher up in the Fireflies, one who had their eyes on every covert deal around the city, a puppet master pulling the strings.

But it was clear now that you were pulling his, a coy batting of your cunning eyes tugging him after you down the hallway, your body turned slightly towards him in a way that accentuated every curve of your body in its side profile, illuminated in the lowlights of the hall.

When you passed by Joel, eyes meeting his as they shifted into something darker—not lustful, but with clear intent—he knew the other reason he had suddenly snapped to attention.

This man was your customer.

That look you had given Joel, it was an unspoken order to keep you safe in case anything went south with this considerably more…“exclusive” customer, for lack of a better term.

You didn’t spare another glance back as you moved to a door at the end of the hall, one Joel didn’t think he had ever seen another girl enter, slipping into the room as the man followed behind you, and the door quietly clicked shut.

Joel stared at the spot where you had just been in the hallway, feet frozen to the ground until he slowly stepped forward, moving down to lean against the wall next to the room you had entered, following your silent order to stay close and keep an eye out for trouble.

All his time working in a building full of the sounds and smell of sex at every moment, Joel had been unbothered. The moans, the grunts, the cries of “oh fuck” and “I’m coming!” that would echo through the halls, the overpowering scents of sweat and cum when a door next to him would open and a satisfied client would walk out—he couldn’t give less of a fuck. It neither bothered him, nor turned him on to any degree.

But at the very first soft, breathy moan of yours that drifted through the thin wall his back was pressed to, Joel’s breath was catching in his throat, entire body stiffening at the alluring sound.

A few seconds later, there was another moan, longer than the first, and Joel’s head tilted back, resting against the wall as his jaw clenched to the point where it was almost painful.

He didn’t care, he told himself.

Joel had never cared before, he didn’t care now.

But it had never been you before.

You, the stalwart image of the establishment, all business and no pleasure, putting every other person’s needs before your own.

So at the thought of you giving into pleasure now, satisfying your own needs as the sounds of slow, rhythmic squeaking of a bedframe carried towards him through the door, your whimpering echoing the steady echo of skin slapping against skin—

“Fuck,” Joel whispered under his breath, eyes fluttering shut at a particularly loud moan of yours that reached his ears that had tuned in through the walls, and he snapped his eyes back open, straightening back up and realizing with a quiet groan from the movement how painfully hard he had grown in his jeans at the sounds of you being fucked.

He reminded himself then that this was your job. There was no guarantee you derived any real pleasure from it—to think that you did was a delusional male fantasy, and made him no better than the rest.

But his dick wasn’t listening to logic, only growing harder in his pants with the more lewd sounds that you made, and Joel sucked in a deep breath, rubbing a large palm over his face and shaking his head to himself.

You were no different from the others.

Just another girl to protect.

Joel didn’t want you.

“Oh, god, yes!” you were gasping in between keening moans now, and Joel bit down hard on his lower lip, feeling the chapped skin break and bleed a bit as his hand twitched at his side, the urge to do something about the erection straining against his pants so incredibly strong.

He could do it. None of the other girls were close to finishing with their clients. Joel could pull his cock from his pants right now and fuck into his own hand as he listened to you having sex, get himself off from the sounds you were making, imagining he was thrusting into you instead of his palm as you—

“Yes,” you whimpered, the sounds of skin slapping against skin rapid now, the bedframe inside your room slamming against the wall as you repeated yourself louder and louder, higher and higher, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Then you were crying out at the same time your client did, and Joel grunted, hips bucking up into his palm at the same moment he realized his hand had drifted there, subconsciously seeking relief from the ache of burning desire before he snapped his hand away.

“Fuck,” he huffed, shaking his head sharply and cursing himself at how he had nearly jacked himself off at the sound of you having sex without even realizing what he was doing. “Get it the fuck together.”

But his erection hardly eased up even as the minutes passed, and Joel had to fold his hands together, trying to casually hold them in front of the obvious bulge constrained by his jeans when your door opened.

The client walked out first, and Joel stared straight ahead at the wall opposite him, jaw clenching painfully once more as the man walked down the hallway, glancing back to send you a wave as you leaned against the doorframe, bending forward out of it to wiggle your fingers back towards him in goodbye.

Joel’s eyes snapped from how relaxed the gait of the man now was before looking over at you, sucking in a sharp breath at the tattered silk robe you were wearing, seeing the dip of your collarbone down to the soft curves of your cleavage, nearly catching a glimpse of the tempting pillows of your tits from the way you were leaning forward before he forced his gaze away.

You were watching him now—he could feel the familiar intensity of your gaze on him, and Joel resisted the urge to swallow thickly, struggling against the lump in his throat as you pushed yourself off the doorframe.

He expected you to head back up towards your office, preparing himself to keep his gaze off you when you walked past him in that temptation of thin fabric, when you surprised him by speaking.

“Want a smoke?”

Joel froze, his head tilting towards the sound of your voice subconsciously before your words even dawned on him.

When they did, he glanced towards you from the corner of his eye, seeing you were watching him with a thumb pointing back over your shoulder towards the room behind you.

The room you had just fucked a client in.

Oh fuck.

Joel cleared his throat, brows furrowed deeply as he looked back at you, and he half-expected you to make a comment about it like usual, but you were simply watching him with an impassive look, not a hint of emotion or motive he could try to decipher.

Before he knew what he was doing, Joel nodded, feet automatically moving after yours when you walked into the room.

“You can close it,” you said over your shoulder as you walked towards a nightstand next to the bed where—

Joel spun around, trying to control how rapidly he was breathing as he grabbed the door handle, pulling it shut behind him before slowly turning back to face the room again.

He had never actually been in one of them before, but he still should have expected the smell to be so much stronger in one—especially right after it had been occupied.

Still, the scent of sex pulled his attention right back to the bed you stood next to as you perched a cigarette between your lips—one he thinks Tess got you, he realized somewhere in the back of his mind—and Joel’s eyes lingered on dark spots on the mattress, forgetting how to breathe for a moment before your voice brought him back.

“Mr. Miller?”

His head snapped forward, eyes meeting yours to see you looking at him in a question he didn’t know that you were asking.

“Huh?” he mumbled so eloquently, wincing internally as your lips twitched into a small smirk around the cigarette in your mouth before you pulled it out, blowing it into the heady air of the room, nicotine joining the smells of sex and making the space tighter, hotter, before you paced towards a window on one wall.

“I asked if you wanted one,” you said slowly, and Joel just then noticed how scratchy your voice was—from the cigarette, the moans you were making not that long before, or maybe both.

“Uh—no,” Joel shook his head, watching with bated breath as your smirk towards him grew. “No thank you.”

His heart skipped a beat in his chest as you beckoned with the cigarette held delicately between your fingers for him to join you at the window. 

Joel did, almost automatically, cursing himself internally at his blunt eagerness to be beside you while you lifted the window to let some fresh air in, and he turned, resting his back against the open window pane, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you instead of observing the room any longer.

Not all that fresh, considering the perpetual staleness of the QZ air, but it did cut down on how overwhelming the aroma of sex currently was in that room.

If somebody was going to break the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you, Joel had expected it to be you, so he was surprised when the quiet words fell from his lips, “Didn’t know you took clients.”

You huffed out a laugh then, the stream of cigarette smoke leaving your plump lips in puffs with the action.

“The Mistress has to earn her keep somehow,” you muttered, pulling in another drag of nicotine to blow back out the open window, and Joel’s gaze snapped back towards you.

“The Mistress?” he repeated, eyes flickering over your face as he recognized that name in an instant.

Being a man in the Boston QZ, it was impossible not to hear about The Mistress. An elusive sex worker who was very selective about her clientele, but even still, the stories about her stretched far, the name representing the countless fantasies of every horny man who dreamed of a chance to get their cock wet with her.

His recognition must have been noticeable in the tone of his voice, because you lazily rolled your head back to look up at him, smirk growing fully across your lips, swollen from whatever you had been up to, and Joel nearly swore under his breath as he felt his cock stirring in his jeans again.

“You act like you’ve heard of me,” you murmured, tongue darting out to wet your lips before you placed the cigarette between them again, and Joel’s brain short-circuited for a moment before he could find the words to reply to you.

“I just—” Joel cut off, brows furrowed as he shook his head, as if trying to jumpstart his mind, get it to string coherent thoughts together again but Jesus fuck why were you looking at him like that, with dark hooded eyes he’d never seen from you before. “I mean, I’ve heard about her, but I didn’t think—”

“Why not?” you interrupted him before he could finish. The cigarette was back between your fingers, gesturing with it up towards the scar that stretched down one side of your face. “Because of this?”

Joel frowned then because, to his own surprise, he was offended that you would think he’d care about such a thing. That he’d judge your attractiveness off something as inconsequential as a scar, especially in such a time where such marks on your skin were proof of hard-earned survival.

Attractiveness. 

No, no, oh, fuck.

“Just didn’t know it was you,” Joel muttered gruffly, shrugging in a way that he knew must have looked incredibly stupid as he turned his face away from you, only to see the mess of shabby sheets on the bed, and those same dark stains on the fabric.

“Oh, so you have heard of me,” you were nearly goddamn purring the words now, in the same moment his mind was recalling those sweet, sweet moans you were making, the ones that had left your lips and resulted in the cum stains he was now staring at. “What have you heard?”

“They say you have the ti—” Joel cuts himself off again, feeling blood rushing towards his cheeks and somewhere lower, somewhere he should not be feeling any heat as he realized what he was about to say without thinking.

That you have the tightest, hottest cunt you could get in the whole QZ.

“They say I…?” you trailed off as you quietly repeated his words, and Joel’s attention flashed back to you to see you drifting closer to him, one arm crossed over your chest to prop up your elbow as you smoked your cigarette.

The way your arm pressed to yourself pushed your cleavage together to make an alluring dip, lifting your tits so they were almost spilling out of the open collar of the silk robe. Although the fabric was faded and tattered from the years it had survived, it may as well have been the richest texture in the world with the way it caressed your soft skin, taunting Joel as he struggled to look away.

When you shifted just an inch closer, one of the sleeves of the robe tumbled down your shoulder, and Joel sucked in an audible breath as more of your body was revealed, tempting him with how bare you were under that flimsy fabric.

He tried to look back up towards your eyes then, he really did, but the sleeve slipping down to hook around your elbow nearly revealed half of your chest to him. The only thing keeping him from seeing one of your tits completely was the way your forearm was pressed against your nipple.

Was it a peak right now? Were you as aroused as he was? Did you need him like he needed you?

Joel finally pulled his eyes up to yours, and when he saw the smug, knowing look in the heat of them, his desire flared into a fever pitch.

“They say you make sex an art,” his voice rumbled out from deep within his chest, and Joel hardly recognized it with the way his every word was coated in a thick need. “That your body feels like heaven, and you taste even better.”

You laughed at that, head tilting back with the action, and Joel was as distracted at the gentle, husky cadence that left your soft lips—how soft exactly, he wondered—as he was focused on the curve of your exposed neck as it led his eyes down your collarbone to the valley of your breasts.

There was a thin layer of sweat there, he just realized, and he wanted to dip his tongue between the soft pillows of flesh, tasting and tracing you, when your words pulled him out of his fantasizing that was quickly spiraling out of control the longer he was in this sex-tainted room with you.

“Those men don’t know a single fucking thing about how I taste,” you muttered, not bitterly, but simply matter-of-fact as you gazed out the window towards the dark lit streets of the QZ, taking another long drag of the cigarette.

Joel’s brow lifted, glancing over your side profile, noticing the way the deep red lipstick you had been wearing was almost completely faded, smeared a little at the corner of your mouth and down your chin, and coupled with the confession you had just made, he struggled with a sudden surge of an emotion he couldn’t name—or didn't want to, as it would surely become dangerous if he dared to entertain it.

“Seriously?” Joel found himself saying, and you turned back to him, your own eyebrows arching at the odd tone of his voice—almost appalled, but not towards you. “None of them?”

Your lips pulled back then, showing teeth in a grin that was nearly predatory, and Joel’s pulse raced as you answered with your own question, “You really think any man still alive wants to pay to go down on a woman?”

“I would,” Joel said in a heartbeat, and you blinked, surprise flashing through your eyes, and Joel hated the way his stomach flipped at the knowledge of catching you off-guard, as you were usually the one doing so to him.

“You’d pay for sex,” you repeated slowly, and although it was a question, you said it in a flat tone, disbelieving as you glanced up and down his body. “You. Mr. ‘I hate everybody and wish they were all fucking dead’ Miller?”

What surprised him the most out of everything tonight was the way you just made him laugh.

The sound was pulled from him so easily, tugged from his lungs towards you, and he sucked in a breath, as if trying to pull the sound back in as a dark look twinkled in your eyes from where they had fixed on the front of his jeans.

“Maybe you would pay for it, Mr. Miller,” you murmured, and Joel stiffened, his mind filling with a variety of curses in every language he still knew as you surely noticed his erection that still hadn’t fucking gone away.

Your eyes flashed back up to his, long eyelashes fluttering as you leaned forward, and Joel struggled to breathe as the forearm still covering the nipple of your almost completely revealed breast grazed against his chest.

“How would you prefer to take me, sir?” you asked breathily, and Joel’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, brushing with your own nearly exposed chest with every fast breath he took as he tried to reign himself in, even as you started fucking seducing him. “Are you a fan of foreplay? Would you take your time and go slow with me?”

Your head tilts oh so slightly, hair tumbling down in a way that begged Joel to wrap it around his fist, as you continued to mercilessly tease, “No, I don’t think you’re one for taking it slow. Are you, Mr. Miller?”

Fuck, if you kept calling him that, he was going to lose his goddamn mind and take you right against that window sill if you would let him. He’d pay you all the fucking food rations in the world for a taste, just a taste of how sweet you’d drip for him when you came.

Because if Joel was fucking you, you were going to come.

“You like it hard and fast,” you whispered, your arm finally dropping from your chest, and Joel swallowed down a strangled sound as he finally saw half of your chest completely, your nipple hardened in the air before you pressed it against him and fuck, oh Jesus fuck, “I bet you’re rough too. Big man like you, you like to be in control. Probably gets off on taming brats, hm?”

Goddammit if you didn’t shut up he was about to show you just how well he could tame you, shutting up that pretty mouth by making you come again, again, and again, until all you knew to do was cry out for him every time he wracked your body with pleasure.

“But you’re not a missionary man,” you shook your head as it tilted the other way, bringing your face to hover inches away from his neck, and Joel shivered, actually fucking shivered when he felt your breath caress his skin as you teased, “You like a cowgirl, don’t you, Joel?”

That was the first time his name fell from your lips.

And at the sound of it, Joel lost any ounce of self-control.

His hands were on you in an instant, enveloping your waist in his large palms as he pulled you flush against him at the same moment he turned to push you against the wall.

You gasped, the dwindling cigarette falling from your fingers, and Joel lifted a foot to stomp it out, using his knee to nudge your legs apart with the motion. When his hips nudged against yours, erection pressing against the spot between your open thighs, he moaned at the feeling of your heat against the impossibly tight fabric.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized the robe you wore was completely open now, and your exposed cunt was pressed right up against his clothed erection, but his entire mind was focused on the way you also moaned at the same time he did.

“You keep running your mouth like that, I’ll show you how fucking good I can tame a brat,” he growled into your ear, one of his hands easily lifting your hip, dragging your folds across the bulge in his jeans, and he sighed as he felt wetness seep against the fabric. “Fuck, you this wet for me already, baby? Just from talking about how I’d fuck you?”

“I-I–”

Suddenly, no words were falling from your lips other than incoherent stuttering, and Joel smirked as he ducked his face against your neck, licking a path along the curve of it, groaning in need and irritation at the salt of sweat from your previous sex that still clung to it.

“Did you come for him?” Joel growled the question against your jaw, now directing your hips to grind against him in a way that put pressure to your clit, his eyes fluttering shut at the soft moan that left your lips—it sounded different than the ones he heard you make before, quieter, a bit huskier as opposed to so high-pitched—before he nipped at the skin just below your chin. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and Joel loosened his grip on your waist just a bit, wanting to see if you still chased that friction he had been providing against your clit.

When you did, grinding yourself against his clothed erection, Joel smirked against your jaw before asking his next question, “When’s the last time a man made you come, sweetheart?”

A shuddering breath fell from your lips to fan across his face, and Joel pulled back, looking down at how blown-wide your pupils were, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face as you muttered, “I—long. Too long.”

Joel wanted to smile at how you were already struggling to form full sentences before he had even started with you, but the anger he felt at you going so long without feeling an ounce of pleasure from being with a man made his jaw tick as he frowned deeply instead.

“Do you wanna come tonight, darlin’?” Joel murmured, his calloused thumb finding your bottom lip to gently pull it out, caressing the wet inner part of your lip while he searched your gaze. “I need you to answer me, sweetheart. I’m not doing anything unless you want me to.”

“Yes, Joel,” your voice nearly broke with the husky whisper, head bobbing in an eager nod, but Joel still waited to hear you say it clearly before he began. “I want you. Want you to make me come, please.”

A shuddering breath left Joel then, and he returned your nod, brushing his thumb across your lip again before pulling it back and leaning down to replace the digit with his own lips.

You were both moaning from the first moment your lips touched, kissing in a way that was much like how you always acted around each other—a battle for dominance, adding gasoline to the fire, but with an underlying respect that neither of you could shake even if you wanted to try.

“Fuck,” Joel mumbled when you allowed him access to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch of it with a quiet moan that you echoed with your own. “Taste so good already, sweetheart.”

Every time he tried to pull away, you brought him back in with your lips chasing his, trapping him in another hot kiss, passion he didn’t think he could ever feel again building between you until he needed to taste more.

Joel finally tore himself away from your mouth fully, hands finding the opening of your robe to make sure it was pushed open completely, giving him access to every inch of your soft skin as he pressed kisses down your neck towards the perfect, perky tits that had been taunting him since you leaned out into the hallway.

His large palms cupped them, fingers stroking the soft flesh as he pressed them around his face, groaning into your skin at the feeling of being surrounded by them before turning his face to lap a path up the curve of one with his tongue until he reached that goddamn nipple that had been pure torture to nearly catch a glimpse of during your entire conversation.

Joel flicked his tongue over it, hips nearly bucking up as you gasped at the sensation, back arching to press further against his tongue when he flattened it against the stiffened peak. When he sucked it into his hot mouth, your fingers found his hair, tangling in the strands as you pushed his face further against you, and he moaned through a mouth full of your breast, teeth grazing against the sensitive peak before he pulled back to quickly do the same to the other.

Despite your teasing, he would take his time with you eventually. But tonight he was desperate, a drowning man gasping for air—but no, even that wasn’t accurate.

You were not the air Joel needed, but rather the unfathomable depths that he was drowning in.

He dropped to his knees between your spread legs, grunting quietly at the pain that ricocheted through his old bones at the action, but he couldn’t care less as he found himself facing your hot, dripping cunt.

Joel leaned forward, letting his breath fan across your sensitive folds as he lifted two fingers to run across your wet entrance, dragging the digits up to where you clit was already swollen with the need to be touched, to be pleased by him, and he smiled to himself at the sigh you exhaled above him from the sensation of his touch.

His fingers slid back to your entrance, dipping the rough pads of his fingertips into you just enough to collect more of your desire, spreading it along the lengths of his thick fingers as he swiped them up to your clit and began to rub in slow, tight circles.

You gasped quietly, hips rolling into his gentle ministrations, and Joel smiled against your skin when he ducked his face forward to press soft kisses along your inner thigh and up.

“Gonna take care of you, darlin’, don’t you worry,” Joel murmured against the mound of trimmed hair above where his fingers were slowly working at you, his lips moving down to replace them as he added breathlessly, “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Your hips bucked against his face when his tongue found your clit, a louder, breathless moan tearing from your throat at the heady sensation of his hot, wet mouth sucking around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Joel,” you gasped, nails scraping against his scalp as you grabbed his hair tighter, and he groaned around your clit at the feeling, pulling a delicious whine that sounded so much more real, more feral, more needy than the perfect, practiced ones you had made through the wall. “I—oh, fuck, that’s so good…”

He hummed around your clit before flattening his tongue against it, alternating motions until he found the rhythm that made you grind yourself against his face, and his palms found your hips to pull you up against him further, encouraging you to ride his tongue until you found your high.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured in between the moments when he’d suckle your clit, teeth gently grazing it as he resisted the urge to palm himself at the steady stream of moans and muffled curses that were echoing above him. “You can do it, come on. Soak my face, wanna taste your sweet cum.”

When you did just as he told you, Joel thought he really did see the gates of heaven, a sight he was convinced would never grace him after the lifetime of hell he had lived and caused.

He lapped up every gush of wetness that dripped from your folds in your release, dipping his tongue inside your entrance to drink you up, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit, rubbing gently to prolong the waves of your pleasure.

Once the gyrations of your hips against his lapping tongue slowed, Joel pulled back from your cunt, your release glistening on his mouth and down his chin as he gazed up at your slack-jawed expression.

Your head tilted down, gaze meeting his as a lazy smile curled onto your lips, and Joel tried to ignore the way his heart lurched in his chest at the sight combined with the feeling of your grip loosening on his hair, fingers combing gently through the strands.

“Good?” Joel mumbled, turning his face to press a soft kiss on your inner thigh, and your head dipped down in a nod, humming in satisfaction as Joel smirked against your skin. “Good.”

His mouth opened, teeth gently nipping at your soft flesh, pulling an endearing squeak of surprise from you as he rasped, “Not done with you yet, though, sweetheart.”

When his tongue found its way back to your clit, his fingers went back to your entrance. This time, when he dipped one fingertip in, he didn’t stop, sinking into your tight, wet heat until the first knuckle, smiling against your swollen bundle of nerves as you rolled your hips into him at the sensation of his digit slowly filling you.

He gave a few slow pumps of his finger when he had sunk it in completely before pulling it out, chuckling around where he had sucked your clit back into his mouth at your whine at the loss of his finger before he added it back in with another.

“Fuck, can you feel you squeezing my fingers, darlin’,” Joel grunted against your cunt, lapping desperate licks against your clit, eating you out with increased fervor as his fingers pumped you faster at every mewling moan that left your lips, encouraged by the rolling of your hips to curl his fingers until he found the spot that nearly made your knees buckle.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, giving you support to stand while keeping you pressed to his face, not allowing you a moment of peace as his tongue worked mercilessly at you until you were coming around his fingers this time.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel was whimpering against your cunt this time as he continued to fingerfuck you through your high, sucking at your clit and drawing out every aftershock, his arm around your waist the only thing keeping you up now as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Joel,” you whispered hoarsely, fingers tugging at his hair again, and he pulled back to look up at you, his fingers stilling inside your cunt, but not sliding out of you just yet.

“What is it, darlin’?” he rasped, breath trembling as you stroked his lips with your thumb, collecting your own release combined with his saliva on it before raising it to your mouth to suck on, pulling a moan from Joel’s throat at the sight.

“Want you to touch yourself, sir,” you murmured, and Joel’s eyes widened, his fingers finally slipping out of your heat, reaching down to fumble with the button of his jeans at your permission he didn’t even know he was desperate for. “Make yourself cum just from the taste of me.”

“Jesus—” Joel couldn’t even finish whatever he was going to groan out as his hand wrapped around his cock once he pulled it out of its fabric constraints, eyes rolling back into his head at the relief of finally, finally doing something about the erection that had plagued him since he guarded you outside the room while you worked.

“Mouth on my pussy, Joel,” you ordered, and he was diving back into your folds without a second thought, sloppily thrusting his tongue inside your wet heat as his hand pumped his cock, your release still coating his fingers spreading across his length as he felt himself already rapidly approaching climax. “That’s it. You like the taste? You wanna come because I taste so good?”

Joel was nodding against your pussy, groaning into your folds as he lost any rhythm towards making you feel good now, but you didn’t seem to care, your hand in his hair still keeping him pressed to your cunt as you encouraged him this time around, “Do it then, Joel. I want to watch you cum for me.”

If you said anything else at that point, Joel couldn’t hear it through the blood rushing through his head as he came harder than he had in years.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt an orgasm so intense, his vision darkening at the edges as he sucked mindlessly at your wet folds, hips bucking up into his fist as his cum shot out to paint the wall behind you before leaking out steadily over his hand.

You loosened your grip on his hair, allowing him to pull back with a gasp, sucking in air he needed to not black out as Joel’s blurry vision focused back in on your face above him.

There was a small smile on your face, satisfied in more ways than one, and Joel couldn’t help but match it with his own half-smirk as he focused on catching his breath before slowly pushing himself back up to his feet.

“Mm,” Joel moaned quietly as his lips met yours in a lazy kiss, one he wasn’t sure who initiated as he mumbled against your mouth, “Heavenly.”

You laughed then, and he felt himself brighten at the sound, though he tried to ignore it as you gently pushed him away from you.

“Come on,” you sighed, straying away from the wall towards the door on shaky legs while you tied your robe back up, making yourself decent enough as he tucked his dick away and zipped up his jeans. “I’ll get you your payment for today.”

There was a brief moment where you made sure nobody was lingering in the hallway before beckoning him out, and you both made your way towards the staircase towards your office while Joel tried to ignore the foreign thrill at the chance of being caught with you after what you had done together.

When you passed his payment to him, he counted out a generous portion before holding it right back out, earning a scoff from you at the offer.

“You’re not paying me for making me come, Mr. Miller,” you said with a sly smirk, and Joel tried to ignore how oddly disappointing it felt for you to resort to calling him that after tonight. “That wasn’t work.”

Joel slowly arched his brow, but nodded at your insistence, tucking his payment in his back pocket before rumbling out a quiet question of, “One-time thing?”

It wasn’t an offer, nor was he insisting that you did or didn’t do it again.

In fact, he was secretly hoping it would happen again, and Joel felt the treacherous anticipation for even more of you when your exhilarated gaze met his.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers

seriously part 3 please😍

Stacy’s mom pt 2

My Masterlist

Pt 1 here

A/N: Hellloo👀 it wasn’t planned but…here’s a pt two of stacys mom because, well…no reason. I just really liked the first part and a few people wanted another part so😉😋 please reblog and leave feedback 🙏

Summary: Steve finally turned 21. And he still remembers your words. Come back when you’re 21. So what next?

Warnings: older reader, Steve is 21, teasing, alcohol consumption (just one wine glass each), oral sex m receiving, slight daddy kink, cum play, cum marking, squirting , p in v, unprotected sex, doubts, insecurities

“Steve? What-“ “You said to come back when I’m twenty one…so, can I take you out on a proper date now?”, he interrupted you, holding out his ID for you to look over.

He was indeed twenty one. Today was his birthday.

And that’s how you found yourself here. Getting ready for a date with Steve Rogers. Your daughters old highschool friend. God, was that pathetic? Was it weird? You couldn’t decide how you thought about it, but with every word it got worse and worse.

Sighing you looked at yourself in your favourite blue dress. You had worn it years ago to a date-which had turned out into you being dumped. From then on you hadn’t worn this dress but you also remember how much Steve had liked it-yeah, he had never been subtle about his crush. Not even a bit. A smile crept onto your lips when you remembered his many compliments, and also hated how your ex-husbands surname sounded from his lips.

“Oh wow, Mrs Dupont you look amazing. This colour makes your eyes pop-and the make up, incredible. Any man would be happy to take you out on a date. I’m sure he’ll- ouch Stacy! Don’t kick me-“

“Aren’t you tired of wearing high heels all the time? I mean, I get it, your legs are beautiful with them but even without you’d look good-“

“Is that a new haircut? It suits your face so good, Mrs Dupont”

You also remembered how Stacy had pulled him away or kicked him under the table at that, making you cringe slightly. What would she think of it? What if she’d be mad? That’s not even a question. Of course she’ll be mad. You’re twice his age and to that he was Stacys friend-or is? You had no idea. God, you had no idea what the hell you were doing.

Ten minutes before eight a car pulled up at your house and the door bell rang only a few minutes later. Walking over to door you looked one last time in the mirror in the hallway, pulling your eyebrows slightly together. God…People would rather assume you’re his mother. Which you could be looking at the age gap. Sighing you brushed your hand over your cheek to the corner of your eye, where already some smile wrinkles appeared.

Why was Steve so attracted to you? He waited three years to go on a date with you…

For some reason it warmed your chest a bit. It was actually really flattering.

Opening the door you gasped in surprise, a huge bouquet of roses beeing held up tight to your face. “Hello”, Steve’s gentle voice and smile made your heart flutter. “Hello, Stevie, you got me flowers?”, I asked in surprise, not remembering the last time I become a bouquet like that, probably somewhat in the begging of your marriage with Stacys father.

You saw a little blush creep over Steve’s face, even though most of it was hidden by the beard. “Yeah, you deserve nice things…”, he smiled when you took the bouquet and walked back into the house, leaving the door open for him. He followed you into the kitchen where you looked for a vase, after finding one filling it with water and putting on the table with the roses, “thank you, they’re beautiful”, you smiled, your gaze falling from the flowers to Steve.

Steve was eye candy from the higher shelf, he looked incredible, dressed in a suit and black button down. His beard was trimmed and the hair in a neat hairstyle . Nothing was out of place, not one small wrinkle or hair strand. But what him made look so good was probably the bashful and nervous smile as he looked you up and down. Steve loved your dress years ago and still did now. He had always dreamed of you at his arm in that dress. The colour was one of his favourite, maybe after tonight his favourite.

Coming closer Steve carefully placed his hands on your waist and leaned down, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

You had to be honest…it made your heartbeat quicken like never before from just a single kiss, to that on the cheek. It was sweet. Innocent. Just a small peck. He wasn’t demanding or trying to be in any way pushy.

“Let’s go, I made a reservation for us”, steve smiled, holding out his arm for you to take. A smile crept onto your lips as you wrapped your fingers around his biceps, unintentionally squeezing a bit more than necessary. Jesus, his arm felt- no, stop lusting over him.

Head shaking over yourself you let Steve lead you to his car-a truck, not something you liked driving in, but you wouldn’t complain. You knew the young kids liked trucks-god, did you just refer to him as young kid?

It actually surprised you when he opened the car door for you and helped you step into the car-but you were really thankful for that seeing how high the car was.

When Steve started the engine the radio immediately turned on, some older song playing. A few seconds later you recognised the melody to be ‘a long, long time’ which made you smile to yourself. Steve listened to that kind of music? Oldies? Huh. That was quiete the surprise…but a good one. An old soul in a young body, maybe.

“I like the song, Is it your Playlist?”, you then asked, looking form the side at the blond man. He smiled lightly, nodding. “Yes, I love that type of music…it’s just…I dunno, it’s calming”, he explained, turning the volume a bit higher.

Most of the car ride was spent quietly with both of you humming to the music that was from his surprisingly good playlist.

Around twenty minutes later you arrived at a rather higher praised restaurant that you definitely hadn’t expected from him, but it did make you feel nicely treated-not because of how classy and expensive this place was-more because of how much Steve wanted to impress you on the first date. Not that it was necessary because…this wouldn’t be going any further, right? Just one date and that’s all.

Just when you wanted to open the door Steve took your hand. “No-wait”, with that he quickly left the car, before walking around and opening the door for you and holding out his phone to you.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you placed your hand in his palm, for a second a thought occurred to you; how long did it take for Steve to stop being such a gentleman in a relationship? You’d never find it out….but it still made you curious. Your ex husband had stopped treating you like that soon after the pregnancy.

When you stepped out of the car Steve closed the door and you both walked to the restaurant, where a waitress walked up to you and lead you to your table. Steve pulled your chair back for you, then sat down in front of you. All this time he had a big smile on his lips as he watched you.

Happy and completely content about finally having you taken out on a date. It was a indescribable feeling.

The waitress gave you both menus, her gaze glued to Steve so long she nearly hit you with one of the menus. Of course she was watching him. She had no idea he was your date. She maybe even assumed he was…your son. God, this was a mistake. A huge mistake.

Sighing you looked down at the menu as the waitress asked what you’d want to drink. “Please the [_____] red wine for me and for Appetizer the fried jalapeños with breadsticks”, you said and looked back at Steve who was already looking at you. “Is it okay if I Take something alcoholic? We will be here for a while so you don’t have to worry about me being drunk or anything”, he made sure before ordering.

You thought about it for a second and nodded, then. If your evening would turn out shorter you could drive, you weren’t planning on anything besides the glass of wine. “Good, then red wine for me, too. And bruschetta for Appetizer”, Steve ordered, smiling at the young woman.

She furrowed her eyebrows slightly, before smiling at him bashfully. “Well…Im sure you’re allowed to drink but I have to follow the rules, so may I see your ID?”, she asked making the both of you blush. You immediately looked down, hiding your face a bit behind your open menu.

Steve took out his wallet, reaching for his ID which she immediately took and looked over for longer than necessary-you could feel her gaze on you for a moment, but when you looked up she was already smiling at Steve again.

“Okay Steve, a wine it is, I’ll bring you your food and wine soon, if that’s all. Anything for you, ma’am?” Hearing her refer to you that way made you feel even worse than before and you were 100% sure she did it on purpose.

It was a huge mistake to go on a date with a man this mich younger. Closer to being a teenager than a man, if you had to be honest. And Steve had to know it too. How could he feel comfortable with you on a date? The waitress probably assumed you were his mother. Or maybe she was now laughing with her friends about-

Steve’s gentle touch at your wrist made you look up from the menu, which you hadn’t been even really looking at. You had no idea for how long you’ve been staring at the same page without having read a single word.

“Don’t do this…don’t overthink it, please…let’s just enjoy the evening”, said Steve gently, holding your wrist. His own menu was already put aside. “I’m sorry Steve, it’s just…you’ve seen how she looked at us-or rather me. At you she was looking with heart-eyes”, you mumbled while putting your own menu now aside, too.

Steve bit his bottom lip at your words, hiding a small smile. It sounded a bit…like you were jealous. Of course he knew you meant the age difference, but he couldn’t stop himself from slowly grinning more. “Oh come on, I don’t care about what she said-and you shouldn’t either”, he said, slowly brushing his hand over yours and squeezing.

“You have no idea how happy I am that you agreed to the date, I…actually thought you would have changed your mind at this point-or maybe that you’d already be with someone. A woman like you should be alone. You should be cherished by the right man”, he kissed your knuckles, all this time looking in your eyes.

And for the first time since you couldn’t remember when, you blushed over a man’s compliment.

A quiet ‘oh’ escaped your lips while you slowly started smiling a bit bashfuly. “Thank you, Stevie, that’s…really kind.” You wanted to add something more when the waitress came to your table, putting down the wine glasses forcefully making you both pull back in surprise. You both hadn’t even noticed her coming.

“I’ll get your Appetizer in a minute”, she smiled at Steve, not acknowledging you before once again leaving you two alone.

Steve watched her with furrowed eyebrows before scoffing quietly. “That was rude”, he said, his gaze back on you. He slid his hand along the table closer to you, his palm up. Inviting. You were uncertain if you should take his hand, knowing the young waitress would be back soon, but in the end you decided to gently place your hand in his.

He smiled at you happily, his eyes carrying a happy glimmer in them. “What have you decided to order? For the main course?”, Steve asked, adding after, “I’m thinking about the steak with fries.”

“Hmm, at first I thought about the salmon but steak sounds good…maybe I’ll take the steak instead”, you thought, looking into the menu once again. “Oh or shrimps…god, I don’t know I’ll take what the chef recommends. That way I won’t have to decide”, you laughed, shaking you head at your own inability to choose.

Steve chuckled and opened his mouth to answer but the waitress from before came. “So what would be for the main course?”, she smiled at Steve, before looking at you for a second but then quickly back at the blond.

“For my beautiful lady what the chef recommends and for me the steak”, said Steve without hesitation, squeezing your hand when he noticed how unsure and insecure you seemed because of the young woman.

She seemed to be speechless for a second, before nodding and writing the meals down. “Of course. Anything else?”, this time her gaze was stubbornly glued to her little notebook, not wanting to look at neither Steve or you.

When she finally left Steve couldn’t hold back the small giggle before winking at you. You still were slightly speechless from what he had said…his beautiful lady. That was…

He was really a sweet guy.

A part of you knew you shouldn’t feel this thrilled and happy, but another part was falling for him faster than you imagined possible.

———————

You stayed at the restaurant for about two hours, enjoying your meal and the many interesting or silly conversations you had. All this time you weren’t interrupted anymore, or if you were then by a different person than the girl from before.

After you two ate your food and even dessert Steve paid for everything-surprising you, which you tried not to show. You hadn’t really expected him to pay for everything even if he was the one who had invited you to the date.

While leaving the restaurant Steve wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you to the car. Once again he opened the doors and helped you into the car, a true gentleman. On your way back home he turned on the same playlist as before, this time a bit quieter.

Even when you arrived at your home he helped you out of the car, walking you to the door and waiting till you opened the door. He didn’t pressure you into walking in after you when you opened the door, he just stood there and smiled at you, his hand burried in his pockets.

“I…I had a really great time tonight”, he said, now much more nervous than during the whole evening. That was the part where you’d tell him it couldn’t happen again. This was there part where you broke his heart, this time for real, without any hopes for the future.

And yet something different left your lips. “Do you want to come in?”

It seemed to have caught you both off guard, but Steve nodded slowly, once again starting to smile at you. “Yeah, I’d love to”, he said and stepped into your house when you walked in. He closed the door behind himself and turned around to you.

Once again to your both surprise you grabbed his button down and pulled him closer to you, your chest touching, his arms immediately wrapping around your middle as you crashed your lips into his, kissing him passionately.

He gasped in surprise, but kissed back, even though slightly more sloppy, not having been prepared for it at all. You leaned back for a second, searching for any sign of discomfort or reason to stop, but before you could change your mind Steve leaned down again, kissing you even more enthusiastically.

You couldn’t stop the quiet gasp that escaped your lips when your back hit the wall with a light thud, Steve’s hands sliding to your behind before lifting you onto his hips. Automatically you wrapped your legs around his middle.

The last time someone had lifted you like this was a long time ago-and never did it happen so effortlessly, which kinda gave you a little confidence boost and also woke some primal part of your brain up that wanted to feel his strength in every position possible.

God. You were so lusting over him.

“Holy shit, Stevie-“, you gasped when he started kissing your neck, walking with you to the living room, his shoulder bumping into the door frame. “Wait-bedroom, go to the-the bedroom”, you gasped out, pressing his face further into your neck.

He looked up at you, pulling his eyebrows together. “Really?”, he asked quietly, confusing you slightly. “Yeah, really. It’ll be more comfortable.”

In the bedroom Steve carefully put you down on the bed, leaning over you and once again kissing passionately. This time it was a bit softer than before. When he let go of you once again he smiled down at you, standing up again and taking off his suit jacket, throwing it on your armchair.

He then looked back at you, his hands trembling as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “Everything okay, Stevie?”, you asked, sitting up and pulling him a bit closer, still looking up at him.

“More than okay-I’m-I’m really happy about this evening, I’m just…nervous. I’ve never been with an experienced woman like you and- ""But it’s not your first time ever, is it?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

He slowly shook his head, his hands stopping unbuttoning the shirt as he got to the middle. “No, not my first time but…I only had sex two times”, he said, burying his hands in his pants pockets.

You slide to the edge of your bed, your hands brushing over his thighs up to his stomach and you slowly open the rest of his shirt. “Do you want to continue?” Before you even finished the question he was already nodding furiously, watching as your hands slid down, over his bulge. A quiet moan escaped his lips and you couldn’t stop the grin creeping on your lips.

“Have you ever had someone suck you off?”

His face took on a dark shade of red as he slowly shook his head. “No”, he mumbled, watching as your hands slowly opened his belt and zipper, pushing his pants down.

“Would you like me to do it?”, just like before he nodded furiously, making you laugh quietly. Your giggles quietened as soon as you pushed down his boxershorts, his cock springing free, not even fully straightening from the weight. Fuck. He was huge. Definitely not how you had imagined him-not that you have done it often but…still.

It was a surprise.

A good one.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, your palm not even fully closing around him as you slowly pumped him, the pre cum immediately leaking from his tip into your palm, making the movements a bit smoother.

His hand brushed through your hair when you leaned down and licked over his slit, making him moan quietly. The feeling of your wet and warm tongue indescribable. You licked along his shaft to his balls, pushing his cock against his stomach to have better access to his tense balls.

You hadn’t done much and he was already ready to burst. How cute. “Stevie you gotta hold it back for a bit longer so I can really make you feel good”, you grinned seductively, before sucking one of his balls into your mouth, your tongue playing with him before once again letting go with a loud plop.

He gasps quietly, nodding. “Y-yeah. I’ll try to”, he moaned again when you slowly started suckling at his head taking him deeper and deeper with every movement of your head, your hand rhythmically moving with your head making sure no part of his Beautiful cock was left out. Your other hand played with his balls, palming him gently.

After tonight your jaw would be sore for days, sof be your throat but it was definitely worth it. You couldn’t wait to feel his load fill your mouth-but not yet. First you wanted to make sure he’d for ever remember every second of his first blow job. Maybe you also wanted to make sure it’d be his best, too. No other woman was supposed to make him feel good. Definitely not better than you. Maybe…you should be thinking that way, but you couldn’t stop it. You wanted for him to always remember you when another woman would suck his cock poorly.

“Oh my-fuck, can you please suck my balls again?”, he panted, stroking your hair again. When your eyes met he couldn’t stop himself from moaning quietly again, his grip on your hair tightening. He imagined this view a few times if he had to be honest with himself-but never had he imagined it would look this good.

You slurped at his cock head for a second more before licking to his balls, suckling and pulling at them. His cock rested against your face, the pre cum leaving a glistening and wet trail behind, messing up your make-up, some even dripping onto your dress.

“God you’re so beautiful-and so fucking hot”, his hand started trembling, his panting getting faster. You could already tell he was coming closer to his orgasm.

It definitely made your chest feel tinglish, for some reason you were a bit proud of what was happening. You were the person giving Steve his first blow job.

“I think-I’m close-yeah, I’m close-take off your dress-I wanna come on your tits”, he moaned, stepping one step back, his own hand wrapping around his cock as he slowly started to stroke himself, his gaze glued to you.

Fuck. This was hot.

Grinning, you opened the zipper of your dress, pushing it down till you could throw it into the floor. Steve’s gaze slid over your body, stopping at your breasts when you took off your bra.

His lips twitched upwards as he watched you play with your breasts, pulling and pinching your nipples. “You’re incredible”, he moaned, stepping a bit closer to you again-his cock leaking pre cum onto your tits and then stomach when you leaned back on your elbows.

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm his breath before looking once again at you. His pupils were blown wide, his mouth slightly agape, his grip around his cock quick and tight. “Open your mouth for daddy’s load”, slipped past his lips, making him immediately blush. Just when he wanted to open his mouth again you chuckled quietly.

“Sure, daddy, I want your cock. Give me your cock, daddy”, you whispered back, keeping an amused grin to yourself. At least you tried to, but seeing Steve blush deepen you knew you didn’t succeed.

A silent moan escaped him as he was thrown to his peak, your words still freshly in his mind. He liked the sound of the word ‘daddy’ on your lips. “Oh fuck”, his cum hit your stomach and chest first, before he aimed higher for your face, especially your open mouth. The view of your cum stained face and body could make him bust again. This was definitely a view to remember.

As soon as he stopped orgasming he leaned down to you, cupping your face with his hands and pulling you into a breathtaking kiss, licking the cum from your lips and following the taste of himself in your mouth, “you’re fucking incredible”, he gasped into your mouth, slowly leaning over your body and pressing you further into the bed.

You grinned against his lips, pushing down his button down from his shoulders, revealing his beautifully sculpted body. “Oh god” “just Steve is enough”, he giggled at his pun, making you laugh quietly too. Your hands slid along his chest. “Wow, I remember-“ you bit your bottom lip at your next words. “I remember when you were still so skinny and rather…lanky”, you mumbled. How quickly time had passed…

Now that you were once again reminded of the age difference you weren’t sure if you really should be sleeping with Steve. You tried to tell yourself it would be just a one time thing. Something that wouldn’t matter to both of you, but….you could tell it was a lie. You weren’t sure what exactly feelings you had for Steve, but it was definitely more than just something platonic or lust.

During the whole evening you had a lot of fun with him-and you knew you’d have more, but not only sexually. Just talking and laughing was enough when it was with Steve.

“Are you okay?” Steve's quiet whisper brought you back as he gently brushed his palm over your arm. You hadn’t even noticed when he had laid down next to you instead of being above you. A small smile twitched over your lips as you nodded slowly. “Yes, it’s just ....I'm not sure what happens next-” Steve opened his mouth, slightly confused looking, but you quickly shook your head, “-not the sec part, silly. What would happen after? we can’t be together-I’m too old for you. People would watch our every step, everything we’d do together in public-they’d judge-and I don’t think you’d like to be with me forever. The difference is already noticeable, I have already some gray hairs and you-you’re so young and good looking.”

Sighing you closer your eyes when Steve brushed over your hair and pulled you closer. “I really don’t care about that…I like you. It doesn’t has to be…labelled…let’s just be with each other, we don’t have to be together…”, he mumbled, slowly kissing your cheeks down to his neck.

“Don’t think about it…let’s just enjoy it”, he smiled against your skin, leaving soft kisses behind. You couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your lips as he pulled you even closer, your bodies pressed together, sharing the warmth of your skin. “This night is ours and what happens next…doesn’t matter”, he kissed you on the lips, passionately and rather…loving.

You slowly pushed him onto his back, throwing your leg over his hips. The feeling of his already hard cock poking against your leg made you grin a bit. You forgot how it was to be with a guy Steve’s age.

“You feel so good…Daddy”, you grinned against his ear, feeling a bashful smile on his lips as he kissed your neck again. “Stop it…”, he giggled looking at you again, his cheeks being already deep red. You smiled smugly, kissing his cheeks. “But it’s true, daddy”, you mocked him quietly, letting his dick side between your folds as you started grinding against him.

“Such a big cock for me, daddy”, you moaned into his ear, once again, mocking him. It was cute. Steve having a daddy kink…seeing how big the age gap was.

You wrapped your fingers around him, positioning him at your wet cunt. “Come on, make me feel it, daddy”, whenever you addressed him mockingly his blush deepened, a bashful smile crept onto his lips which was quickly replaced by a frown in pleasure as you slowly sank onto his cock.

When you were finally seated, his cock stretched your cunt perfectly, hitting and rubbing against every sensitive spot. “Oh fuck-so good”, you moaned bouncing lightly, trying to adjust to his size. You really couldn’t remember the last time you had been with a guy like Steve.

A few seconds later you started moving more, lifting yourself nearly fully up before slowly coming down again, gasping as his cock head rubs along your walls.

Steve himself couldn’t stop his moans anymore, grabbing your hips and fucking into you quicker, harder. “Oh fuck-yes-just like that”, you moaned in surprise, supporting yourself with your hands against his chest, your nails digging into his sculpted pecks, leaving behind red marks.

A small grin crept onto his lips as he noticed your surprised reaction. Steve wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you down onto his chest and slamming his cock deep in your quivering cunt, hitting your g-spot every time.

“Steve-I’m close-“, you moaned into his neck, your hands grabbing everything in reach-mostly his chest or the sheets. You felt your whole world collapse when the sudden g-spot orgasm rushed over you, your whole body shaking in Steve’s arms, your cunt squeezing him and pulling him in. Your juices gushed around his cock, making a mess.

You felt overwhelmed with every coming thrusts, still brushing your overstimulated g-spot. Steve’s grunts and moans close to your ear letting you know he was also getting closer to his orgasm.

It took Steve a few thrusts before his own body twitched, his load painting your pulsing and sensitive walls, all the cum leaking around his dick making an even bigger mess than before. Your and Steve thighs were covered in a mix of your releases, your sheets were dirty with cum.

And you felt better than ever.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips as you buried your face into Steve’s neck, inhaling his cologne. The smell being the same as years ago when Steve had hugged you to wish you a happy birthday-you remembered liking his smell. You still did.

Steve’s hands brushed along your back, scratching you gently before he slowly turned with you onto the side, his softening cock slipping from your messy cunt, making both of you gasp in pleasure and sensitivity.

“Let me get you a bit cleaned up”, Steve whispered against your forehead. You could feel the smile on his lips, the happiness in his voice.

And you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

A blush crept to your cheeks when Steve pushed you onto your back and admired his messy work. The cum was still leaking from your cunt every time your walls throbbed, pushing out the mix of releases, “that’s so hot”, he mumbled, before leaning down and licking along your slit, getting a surprised moan from you.

“Wait-what-“ “I told you I’d clean you up-“, Steve grinned from between your legs before once again continuing, licking along your slit, dipping his tongue in your sensitive cunt. Quiet and needy whines escaped your lips as you grabbed onto his hair. “I thought you meant-something different”, you were interrupted by your own moan when his nose brushed your clit.

You hadn’t been eaten out in a long time, especially not with someone who actually wanted to do it-and Steve seemed very eager about laping and slurping at your cunt, his tongue pushing into you as deep as possible, following your taste. There was definitely lack of experience, but his eagerness made up for it. You were curious how many times he had done it before-but it was no time to ask.

Even though you felt unbelievably good, you also felt too overstimulated and another orgasm felt like it’d be too much for you, so you gently pushed his head away.

The sight made your cunt throb again. His cheeks were covered by a small blush, probably from the lack of oxygen since he really didn’t want to let go for a second from your cunt, his beard glistening, his pupils blown wide. Just when he wanted to dive in again you held him back by the hair. “I’m too sensitive”, you said apologizing, making you both chuckle quietly.

Steve nodded and sat up again, his cock already being half hard again but he ignored it. “I’ll clean up a bit, bring us some water and then we can…sleep? If you’d…if you’d like for me to stay. I get it if you’re not interested in more and if so, then I’ll leave-“ “stay…Steve, please stay tonight”, you interrupted him, taking his hand gently in yours.

He looked down at your hands for a second before coming back to your face. His lips twitched to a smile and he nodded. After giving you a quick peck on the lips Steve went to the bathroom, cleaning himself a bit before grabbing a water bottle from your fridge.

When he walked back into the room you had changed the sheets and were laying beneath the comforter, already being close to falling asleep. A bashful smile crept onto his lips as he slowly sat down at the edge of the bed, not being sure what to do.

You smiled up at him, pulling the comforter back and patting the space next to you. “I like cuddles after sex”, you whispered, the two of you blushing like teenagers after their first time. In a way you felt exactly like that.

Steve pulled you into an embrace, kissing your head gently before closing his eyes.

You both had no idea how happy you both were right now. After years of pining and fantasies Steve finally had his dream woman in his arms and you felt happy having a man who actually cared about you. The last time you felt this happy was in the beginning of your marriage…which would now be over twenty years ago, “good night”, whispered Steve into your hair, interrupting your thoughts.

“Good night, Stevie…or should i say daddy?”, you whispered, a smirk creeping on your lips. Without looking up you knew Steve was blushing. “I…got carried away for a moment”, he chuckled slightly embarrassed but still smiling into your hair.

It didn’t take you two long to fall asleep after the amazing, yet exhausting date. You haven’t been with such an enthusiastic man in a long time and it did take a turn on you.

Your sleep was interrupted in the morning by the slam of the front door. “Hi, mom! Are you home?”, you heard Stacys steps coming closer to your room.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

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i love this

james potter x reader drabbles (+ = 18+ only)

if you want to scroll through all of my james potter x reader fics from newest to oldest. NOTE this link works on desktop, and on IOS, but doesn't work on android mobile. It used to, but I think it's a tumblr glitch.

james take care of you when you’re drunk at a party

james takes care of you, again, drunk at a party

james comes to rescue you after you call him (drunk)

james gets drunk and you look after him for a change

james tries to make a romantic gesture for you, his tired girlfriend

james enjoys some from domestic bliss

james is the sunshine to your rain

james is in love at first sight

james draws a picture and you finally get it

james comforts you after baking gone wrong

james leaves for a trip

james comes back from the trip

james puts his fingers in your mouth

james puts his fingers in your mouth (the prequel)

james and your baby make breakfast

james helps scare off a creep

james potter and the forbidden lakehouse romance

james supports you during chronic pain

james will always stick up for you

james is your flirty bodyguard

james is your angry but soft bodyguard

bodyguard!james comes to rescue you

james tends to a small cut

james loves to talk

james loves to touch you

james loves you for you no matter how shy

james kisses you out of love and not for something more

james thinks you look familiar

james would never cheat on you

james doesn’t like to see you sad or hungry for touch

james reacts to you flinching during an argument

james is hungry for your touch though he won’t say

james can’t clean an oven but he can kiss

james gets comfort after losing a match

james comforts you when you’re anxious

james hates your awful friends

james dotes on his introvert gf at a party

james helps you sleep

james comforts you about strawberry legs

drummer!james is nervous before a show

james doesn’t want you to cry alone

james does laundry and misses you after an argument

james cuddles you in the early morning

james gets breakfast in bed

james makes you cry for the first time +

james warms you up after a shower +

james finds you doing laundry in a state of undress +

james takes your trousers off +

james messes with you at the office +

james ravishes you after time apart +

james teases you for your tenacity +

james likes being called jamie +

making bestfriend!ethan cum in his pants <3

it’s a random monday night and ethan came over to yours, to do his homework. you distract him, of course, and he ends up on the floor on his knees, painting your toenails for you. you’re sat at the edge of the bed, and ethan nervously take your left foot in his hand, his soft caresses making your spine tingle.

he’s almost halfway done with your first foot, when you decide to lay flat on the bed. he looks up at you as you do so, your crop top rising slightly, and he’s able to just see the bottom of your breasts. his face flushes a deep red, and he quickly looks away in embarrassment, and returns to painting your toes. he knows you can’t see him, though, and takes quick glances back up to your breasts every now and then.

you try to get comfortable at the awkward angle, and shift your upper body slight, causing your right foot to accidentally graze over ethan’s crotch. this causes his breath to audibly hitch.

“sorry!” you say, thinking you just hit his leg with your foot.

he takes a second to get himself together, and finally responds. “it’s okay..” he says lowly. another second passes by, and he mutters a “i didn’t mind” under his breath.

this causes you to lift yourself up on your elbows. “huh? what did you say?” you ask, genuinely not able to hear what the boy just said.

“oh- uh- uh… nothing. it’s not important.” he says quickly, and you notice how red his face is. you question it, but decide not to say anything out loud this time. you plop back down on the bed, and ethan watches as your upper half bounces, which makes your boobs bounce as well.

“christ,” he curses under his breath. you sit up quickly, and catch ethan staring at your tits. he returns back to painting your toes, not realizing that you had just caught him. you notice there’s a growing bulge in his gray sweatpants, and you can’t help but smirk. you lay back down on the bed while ethan continues.

you pick up your right foot again, this time, placing it directly on ethan’s bulge. his mouth opens, but doesn’t say anything, afraid you’ll realize what your doing and stop.

after a bit, and he still doesn’t say anything, you begin moving your foot back and forth on his now fully hard dick.

ethan seems to forget how to think. he doesn’t move, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes. the feeling of your foot is driving him wild from the bottom up, the feeling sending shudders down his spine. he doesn’t even bother trying to be subtle after a while. his face is flush and he’s starting to breathe heavily, trying in vain to think of the right words. his heart is pumping wildly in his chest, his body still going tingly and sending chills down his spine as little whines and moans come out of his mouth.

you lift your crop top up just a little, exposing your hard nipples to the cold air. this makes him fold even more. the poor boy is already so close, just the feeling of your foot and the sight of your bare chest is enough for him.

he feels paralyzed at this point, realizing he’s teetering on the edge of an orgasm. he begins to rock back and forth, in tandem with your foot. he can no longer hide his moans from you, starting to get loud, even though he’s so embarrassed.

“fuck, y/n… please…” he begs. you smirk, but don’t say anything, just adding more pressure with your foot.

“i’m.. im gonna… i’m gonna cum..” he says the last word harshly, still feeling so ashamed at the sinful act. “please.. i cant cum like this, y/n… please, baby..” the pet name makes your stomach drop, and arousal forms in your panties.

“it’s okay, e..” you sit up on your elbows. “i want you to cum in your pants, sweet boy… make a mess for mommy.”

he groans at that, and quickly reaches his high, rocking back and forth against your foot, his head shooting up to look at the ceiling, letting out soft “ah, ah, ahs” as he paints the inside of his boxers with thick cum. you instantly feel the wetness seep through, it showing up nicely on the gray he’s wearing. you smile sweetly at him.

once he returns back to earth, he looks back down at his pants, feeling so hot and humiliated, but he loved every second of it. he looks back up to your pretty face.

“t-thank you, mommy…”

↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about loosing three times against you.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!

a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)

no use of y/n

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."

"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.

"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.

"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."

Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.

"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."

When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."

You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.

"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.

"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."

He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”

He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.

You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.

“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”

Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.

“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.

“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.

“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”

“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.

It had all happened last weekend.

Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.

At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.

Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.

Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.

You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.

Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.

How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…

“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”

Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”

The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.

“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”

“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.

You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”

Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.

“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.

“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”

His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.

“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.

“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”

You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.

Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.

“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”

Well shit. Now you had screwed up.

This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.

Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.

You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.

It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.

“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.

“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.

“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.

So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.

You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.

You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.

Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.

Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.

“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.

“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”

You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”

“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.

Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.

You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.

“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”

You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.

“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.

“No,” you huffed.

“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.

“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”

Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.

But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.

“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”

Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”

There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.

Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.

“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.

“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”

“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.

In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.

“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”

You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.

“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.

That was the night that started everything.

After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.

Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.

That’s how you ended up here.

Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.

“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.

“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.

“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.

“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.

“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.

The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”

“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”

And just like that, you’re left alone.

After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.

There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”

He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.

Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.

“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”

He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”

“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.

“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.

You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.

The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.

“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.

“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”

This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.

“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”

Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.

“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”

You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.

The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.

“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”

He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”

You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”

“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”

“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”

The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.

“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”

“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.

“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.

He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.

“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.

“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.

“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.

Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.

“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”

His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.

“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.

“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.

As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.

“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”

You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”

His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”

The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”

His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”

It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”

Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”

Three fucking times?

When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.

“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.

He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.

“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.

“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.

“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.

“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.

The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.

His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.

“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”

He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”

You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.

This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.

“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”

He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.

“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”

But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.

“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.

“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.

It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.

Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.

that was hot

cat's outta the bag

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: 3 times they almost got caught, and 1 time that they did

warnings/tags: [18+, minors DNI] fwb!joel, language, smut, unprotected PIV sex, oral [f & m recieving], literally just porn lmao

word count: 4.9k

prequel to this here

A shelf was digging painfully into your shoulder blade, and the sharp edge of it nudged dully into your flesh with every one of Joel’s movements. He had you pinned up on the countertop, your pants around your knees. He’d been so eager, so pent up after a fortnight of not getting to touch you. Your patrols hadn’t been matching up, and you’d both been busy with friends, and odd jobs, and life. After three hours on horseback the pair of you had finally reached the checkpoint, and you’d only managed to get his zipper undone and tug his pants down a fraction before he’d shoved you up on the bench, stepping between your legs.

The safehouse was dank and dusty, nothing but a dilapidated hiding place with a few stashed weapons and a logbook on the coffee table to leave patrol notes in. The two of you had fucked there many times, on quiet patrol days. Sometimes it was just to pass the time; just something to do to cure a mutual boredom. Other times, this time, it was a frustration release.

Joel’s hips pounded mercilessly into you, his cock pushing heavily against the deepest part of you with every thrust. One of his hands gripped your waist, and the other was under your shirt, fingers circling and tugging on your nipple as you gasped wetly into his mouth.

“Never goin’ two weeks without fuckin’ you again,” he grunted against your lips, puffing out heavy breaths. “Been fuckin’ my first every night like a goddamn teenager, imagining it was your pussy.”

“Shit, Joel,” you moaned, thighs tightening around his waist. His hand drifted from your waist down past your hip to grip your leg behind your knee, holding it in place against his hip. You cringed in pain as your shoulder struck the shelf again with a particularly rough thrust, but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Couldn’t risk him stopping, couldn’t risk it when your orgasm was so fucking close. 

Your hands were under his shirt, and your nails dug into the skin of his back, no doubt leaving red marks in your wake. His cock was thick and heavy inside of you, stretching you out deliciously after two weeks of missing him. Hard as you tried, your fingers could never produce the same effect as this; you feared nothing, and no one would ever compare to the way he fucked you.

His mouth was on your neck, spitting curses as he bucked into you. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you pulsed around him, a ringing filling your ears as you fell over the edge. Euphoria filled your bloodstream, and a loud bang filled the room as his hand slammed down onto the counter beside you. Joel was grunting in your ear, chasing his own end now that he knew you were satisfied. But as his hips began to stutter against yours, losing their rhythm, a faint whistle could be heard from outside the house.

The pair of you froze, his hips stilling with his length fully sheathed in you. Your soaked cunt was still pulsing around him, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your body shake against the bench.

“It’s Dina and Jesse,” you muttered quickly, the realisation dawning on you that they were there to relieve the two of you from your patrol. Joel’s face pulled back from your neck and you cringed to see his thunderous expression. His lips were pursed tightly, harsh exhales huffing out of his nose, and a gorgeous blush painted his cheeks. Reluctantly, he dragged his hand out from under your shirt, but made no move to step back. Frustration rolled off him in waves, his chest rising and falling with short sharp breaths.

“Joel,” you snapped urgently, hand pressing on his chest. “They’ll be in here any second.”

“Fuck,” he snarled, pulling his hips away from you and groaning at the feeling of his length slipping out of your heat. You dropped off the bench quickly, cringing at the sudden emptiness as you pulled your pants up around your hips. His cock was out of his jeans, head painfully red and weeping pre-cum. You could tell he was aching from the way he gripped himself, thumb stroking along a vein that protruded along his length as he stared at you intensely. There were getting closer to the door now, and you could hear them talking softly. Joel must have heard them too, because he tucked himself into his pants and did his belt up quickly, walking over to the coffee table and scribbling quickly in the logbook.

When Dina and Jesse walked through the door you offered them a quick nod, shouldering your rifle and gripping your pack, attempting to walk normally and not be obvious about how painful the ache between your thighs was.

“Took your fucking time,” Joel grunted at them, before slipping out the front door and stalking towards the horses.

----------------

You’d had a long day at the greenhouse. Summer was in full swing, and the sun bore down on you all day. By the end of your shift, a headache was twinging at your temple, and there was a light red tinge across your shoulders and nose.

You didn’t think twice before bypassing your own home, and heading directly to Joel’s. He answered your knock at the door after only a few seconds, and the frown on his face slid off when he saw you.

“Jesus,” he huffed a laugh. “You forget to put a hat on today, sunshine?”

“It’s been a long day,” is all you said. “Are you home alone?” His eyes darkened as he understood what you were asking, and he stepped aside to let you in.

You didn’t make it up the stairs. He pushed you down onto the couch, kissing and sucking at your neck, lips trailing down your body as he tugged your shorts off your legs. Running your fingers through his short dark hair, you pulled gently on the strands, revelling in the sighs of contentment he let out against your thigh. Hands rubbed into your skin, and goosebumps rippled across your flesh despite the heat, as he knocked your knees apart and knelt on the hardwood floor between your legs.

“This what you want?” he looked up at you, desire swimming in his dark brown eyes. “You get all sweaty and sunburnt and then come here for me to kiss it better?” 

You nodded pathetically as he kissed the inside of your knee, holding your gaze.

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you breathed, gripping the collar of his shirt. “Had a shit day, need you to make it better.”

He licked a stripe along the inside of your thigh, and you sighed heavily, chest rising and falling quickly as he worked his way closer to the ache between your legs. When his fingers grazed the front of your underwear, he groaned to feel how wet the material was.

“Y’always get so wet for me,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the fabric. You flinched, your cunt throbbing.

“Just a coincidence,” you said, smiling lazily as his tongue dragged against the fabric, giving you both a tease of what was to come. He didn’t respond, impatiently pushing the material to the side, before dragging two of his fingers through your slick folds. He didn’t waste any time, one of his thick digits slipping past your entrance and curling inside of you. His eyes watched you closely as he pulled his hand back and sucked his finger into his mouth, licking the taste of you off his skin.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, gripping your underwear, and removing it hastily. He threw the garment somewhere over his shoulder, and before you could criticise him, his large hands were gripping your thighs and tugging them over his shoulders. You gasped in surprise, dropping down on the couch. “Let me kiss it better now.”

His nose dragged through the dark curls on your mound, inhaling deeply. Without warning, he ducked his head and his broad tongue dragged through your folds. A haggard sigh tore from your lips at the sensation. You let your head drop back against the top of his couch, closing your eyes.

Tired mumbles of his name and curses fell from your lips and you rocked your hips up, eager for more friction. Your nose scrunched up as his tongue circled your entrance, nose bumping your clit, and you winced as your sunburnt skin crinkled. You willed your face to relax, and breathed deeply as he fucked you with his mouth.

Looking down for a moment, your stomach tightened to see him watching your reactions as his mouth worked greedily, sucking, and licking into you.

You could feel yourself nearing your end already. He always knew how to get you there, knew exactly what made you tick. But as you went to verbalise it, to tell him how close you were, how good it felt, a rapid knock came at the door. Your eye twitched at the sound, and you looked in the direction of the sound. Unperturbed, Joel continued his ministrations, gripping your thighs closer to his head and fucking into you with his tongue. You whimpered softly and felt your thighs begin to shake where they rested on his shoulders. 

You cried out his name as he changed his rhythm, tongue flicking quickly across your clit in side-to-side movements. As the heat began to build again, another sharp knock landed on his front door and you cursed loudly, in annoyance this time.

“Joel?” a woman’s voice called from outside. “Are you home?”

“Is that Natalie fucking Wilson,” you hissed, pushing his face away from you. The woman worked at the stables, and it was painfully obvious to everyone how smitten she was with Joel. Her eyes would follow him everywhere he went; on the street, when he came through the stables on patrol, when she spotted him the Tipsy Bison. She acted like a dog on heat when he was around, and you didn’t blame her; your friend was attractive. But you never thought she’d come knocking at his fucking door. 

Joel’s eyes were dazed as he looked up, finally registering the sound of her voice outside. His lips were parted as he breathed deeply, staring up at you, pupils dilated. Your slick made his lips and beard shine, and your heart pounded at the sight of him looking so blissed out just from going down on you.

“Did you know she was coming over?” you groused, moving to sit up straight.

“Don’t know what she wants,” he grunted, his forearm moving to press across your stomach, holding you down. “Ignore it.” He pressed messy kisses against your pussy, trying to convince you.

“Joel,” you huffed moments later when she knocked again, frustrating spiking in your already tense muscles. “She’s not going anywhere.” You attempted to slide out from under his grasp.

“Don’t you dare move,” he said lowly, his grip on you tightening in a warning. Before you could speak again, his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, ending with a sharp flick across your clit, and anything you were going to say was cut off by a low moan.

“Fuck,” you sighed, one hand sliding down to grip his hair again. He groaned in response, sending a vibration through your core. His long tongue dipped into your entrance, before moving up to draw slow circles around your clit, his leisurely pace driving you insane. It was as if he wasn’t even concerned with making you finish, just lazily running his tongue over you, savouring the taste of you, all for his own pleasure.

“Joel?” her voice rang out again, and your head turned to the side to glance at the door. With a startled noise, you realised you could see her. She was bent down, trying to glance through the front window. Thankfully the curtains were drawn, with only a crack of space for her to peak through. 

“She’s gonna fucking see us,” you panted, fingers gripping the back of his head as you writhed beneath him. “Stop, stop.”

He pulled back for a split second and said, “Shut the fuck up,” before his mouth was back on your slick cunt. Your back arched as heat soared through you, legs shaking vigorously as he held them to his shoulders, fingertips digging painfully into your soft flesh.

“I’m so close,” you whispered breathlessly, staring nervously at the window. You took your hand off the back of his head and raised it to cover your mouth, teeth digging into your palm. He grunted, reaching up to grip your hand and shove it back into his hair. As another, louder, knock landed on his front door, you gasped brokenly and fell over the edge, your orgasm flooding through you, hips bucking against his fierce grip. His mouth continued moving against you, eagerly swallowing your release, his deep moans vibrating through your core.

As you came down from your high, Joel pressed a chaste kiss to your clit before pulling back, gazing up at you breathlessly with a tired grin on his face. He turned his head and wiped his mouth on your inner thigh, before kissing the skin. His hands rubbed along the muscles of your thighs, relaxing the bunching up muscles. Silence settled over the room, and your eyes begged to close, the release paired with a long day making you sleepy.

“You hear that?” he asked with a smirk, and you frowned in confusion. “I think she’s finally gone.”

----------------

“Do you know what you’re doin’ to me right now?”

The Tipsy Bison was crowded. It was Saturday night, and countless people were milling around the hall, drinking, and dancing and chatting. You were five drinks deep, having a good time with your friends, and enjoying the way the Summer breeze blew in through the open doors and caressed your skin.

“Whatever do you mean?” you sipped your drink, looking at Joel out of the corner of your eye. He was sat beside you in the booth, and the two of you had been left alone when Tommy and Maria went off to dance, and Lou and Carl disappeared to get more drinks.

“That dress,” he muttered, the alcohol in his system making his Southern drawl all the more noticeable. You grinned cheekily into your glass, shoulders shaking with laughter. The dress was something you kept tucked away for most of the year, considering it was only appropriate for very warm weather. With thin straps and a short hemline, the skin of your shoulders, chest, and legs was all visible.

“Oh, you like it?” you teased, eyes lazily dragging around the room, watching people dancing and singing.

Joel didn’t speak. Instead, he gripped your hand and dragged it under the table, placing it over his lap. You froze when you felt him under his jeans, stiff as a board, pressing against his zipper. 

“I love it,” he said gruffly.

“You’re drunk,” you laughed, palming him through his jeans.

“I am,” he nodded, his hand pressing down on top of yours, applying more pressure. “Can’t stop lookin’ at you. At your mouth, thinking about your lips around my cock.”

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was in earshot of your conversation.

“Sorry,” he lied, bleary eyes staring into yours. You gazed at him for a moment, contemplating, before you nudged him out of the booth.

“Come with me,” you said, turning and walking quickly towards the bathrooms at the back of the hall. You ducked your head inside quickly, and when you saw that all of the stalls were empty, and not a single person in sight, you tugged him in after you.

You pushed him into one of the stalls and locked the door behind you.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he murmured, leaning in to press his mouth against your neck. His teeth nipped against your pulse point and you hissed, but then his tongue soothed over the sore spot and a warmth grew in your stomach.

“No,” you whispered, and he paused, pulling back to look at you. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out as he watched you lower onto your knees in front of him. You worked hastily to undo his belt, salivating as you pulled his thick cock out of his briefs.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, eyes dark as he stared down at you. “You’re killin’ me.”

Grinning, you stroked his length slowly, letting your thumb slide over the bead of precum on his weeping head. You raised your thumb to your lips and sucked it into your mouth slowly, tasting him with a soft moan. He was swollen and pulsating from lack of attention, his ruddy head begging to be touched. Eagerly, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his head. A sharp breath rushed out of his mouth, and you laughed as his head knocked against the stall, giving small, soft kitten licks against his slit.

One of his hands rested heavily on your shoulder, thumb grazing back and forth along your collarbone as your tongue licked from his tip to his base. Sweat slicked your back under the light material of your dress, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You gripped his length in your hand and stroked gently as you parted your lips around the tip, taking it into your warm mouth. His hand tightened on you. You pressed forward and let him sink further into your mouth, moving your head in a slow rhythm with your hand. White noise rushed in your ears, and you couldn’t help but bring your fingers down to brush against the front of your panties, feeling the dampness that had collected there. You whimpered around the weight of him, wishing he was inside of you.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you could vaguely hear him muttering, and you hummed around him. You loved the way he babbled when you had your mouth around him, like he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he just talked. “Look so perfect with my cock in your mouth, been thinkin’ about this all night. Look at me, gimme those eyes.”

You looked up with wide eyes and pushed yourself further down his length, tongue swirling fervently around his tip. His face crumpled in pleasure, hips jutting forward instinctively, and you choked as he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You squeezed his thigh in forgiveness, pulling back for a breath before sucking his tip back into your mouth, tongue dragging along his sensitive slit as you blinked away tears.

After giving yourself another quick moment to breathe, you put your mouth around him and pushed yourself as far as you could, revelling in the sounds of his deep breaths as your nose almost brushed the curls at his base. Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes, and he brushed them away tenderly. He was so deep, nudging the back of your throat, and you swallowed around him, gagging lightly.

Joel let out a choked sound, his fingers burying themselves in your hair.

“God, your fuckin’ mouth,” he groaned. “Y’take me so well. Open up wider for me, c’mon.” Inhaling deeply through your nose, you went to move again, but stilled at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Your panicked eyes met Joel’s and he held a finger to his mouth, urging you to stay silent.

Laughter filled the room as two women entered.

“Did you see him? He’s so drunk,” one of them slurred, giggling loudly.

“He’s been all over you tonight,” the other one said, and a tap started running.

A mischievous thought ran through your head, and without hesitating, you began to bob up and down, letting him fuck your mouth. His hand tightened in your hair, giving you a warning look and a shake of his head. But he must’ve seen the determined look in your eyes, because his resolve faltered, and he let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck,” he mouthed as you pulled off almost completely, suctioning your lips around his tip and stroking him firmly with your hand.

The women were chattering loudly, the water still running, and thankfully the noise covered up any sounds that the two of you were making.

“Stop,” he mouthed urgently, but you shook your head, taking his full length into your mouth again. You hummed around him and his eyes shut tightly, hips pushing forward, searching for his release. He was close, and you both knew it, and even with the women standing a metre away, you weren’t going to stop.

But he didn’t give you a choice, gripping your hair in his fist and pulling you off him completely. Holding your head still, he reached down with his other hand and began to touch himself. You could feel how wet you were, slick dripping down your thighs. You watched with hooded eyes as he tugged on his cock, his mouth hanging open in pleasure.

The tap turned off suddenly, and you vaguely heard the women leave the bathroom as you leant forward and parted your lips in front of him.

“Open up for me,” he encouraged, biting his bottom lip harshly. He gripped himself tight, stroking quickly and maintaining eye contact with you. Your cheeks were hot under his gaze, but you held your mouth open patiently, and when he came in hot, thick spurts onto your tongue you swallowed it down eagerly. Leaning forward to take his tip into your mouth again, you sucked and licked at him until he was pushing you back, thumb stroking your cheek in appreciation.

Joel redid his buckle and helped you off the ground, wincing at the sound of your knees cracking painfully. With a smile, he wiped the mix of saliva and his spend off your chin, before bringing the finger up to his own mouth to suck it clean.

“You good?” you rasped, and he nodded slowly. “Alright, follow me out after a minute or two. Don’t wanna be too obvious.”

----------------

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Joel to visit you at work. The greenhouse was in a quiet part of the settlement. It was a small building, filled with tall heavy foliage, and countless boxes of soil that fed life into vegetables and herbs. More often than not, you would work long days all by yourself, and sometimes he would pop by to enjoy the peace and quiet while you tended to the produce. That day though, when he’d walked into the greenhouse, he’d been tense.

“Howdy soldier,” you’d smiled, busy repotting a tomato plant. But your interest was piqued when you heard shuffling, and you glanced up to see him pushing a heavy crate across the ground, settling it in front of the door. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I need you,” he’d said in a low voice, making his way across the room towards you. Your gloved hands stilled in the soil, dumbfounded. “Woke up thinking about your pussy, had to get myself off twice before I could even leave the house. Had you in my head all fuckin’ day.”

“I’m working,” you’d replied, eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

That’s how you ended up shirtless, with your torso pressed down onto the wooden table in the middle of the room. Joel’s large hands were splayed across your back, fingers and lips dragging along your skin. The tip of his cock was nudging your entrance, silently asking permission. Your hips twitched backwards, soaked cunt aching to be filled.

“Just fuck me already,” you muttered, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

He glared down at you, eyes greedily taking in the sight of you laid out against the worktop, back arching as you pushed your ass against him. “Don’t act like you’re not dripping right now. I can feel it; you need this just as much as I do.”

You bit your tongue, knowing he was right. With a low groan, he slid into you in one smooth movement, fingertips digging into the skin of your back. You sighed at the sensation, enjoying the dull ache that always came when he was first inside you. He was so long, so thick. Stretching you so perfectly, always hitting that spot so deep that it had you gasping for breath.

He fucked you quickly, the way he always did. But the angle was harsh at first, and you reached a hand back and pressed it to his thigh; squeezed once, gently.

“Slower,” you breathed, and he complied. His thrusts turned slow, lazily dragging himself fully out before pushing back in to the hilt. You hummed in approval, your forehead resting against the bench.

The burn faded as your arousal grew, and soon enough you were so slick that there was no pain at all, and you found yourself moaning with every movement of his hips.

“So tight,” he was babbling into your neck, chest pressing tightly against your back. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

He couldn’t help but quicken his pace again, but you weren’t bothered this time. The head of his cock nudged against your cervix with every thrust, and you moaned deeply, one of your hands drifting to rest over your mouth, attempting to muffle the sounds.

“The hell are you doin’?” he asked from behind you, hand reaching down to bunch your hair at the base of your neck. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you when I’m fuckin’ you.”

You mewled, basking in the feeling of his body all over you, inside of you. He was everywhere, the smell of his sweat filling up your nostrils.

“Christ,” you mumbled, eyes rolling back in your head as he gave a particularly hard thrust, your body jolting into the table. His name spilled out of your mouth urgently as your stomach suddenly tightened, and you could tell you were close.

“Joel?”

You flinched, eyes widening as you recognised the voice as Tommy’s. He must’ve been right outside the greenhouse.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, cringing at the thought of him catching you both. How the fuck would you explain this? You thanked your lucky stars that the glass building was filled with so much greenery, that from the outside the two of you wouldn’t be visible through the brush. But your stomach dropped when you heard the door handle rattling as he attempted to get inside.

“You in there Joel?” he called again. “Maria said she saw you headed down here, I need your help with something.” 

“Fuck off Tommy,” Joel yelled suddenly, frustration clear in his voice.

“Joel,” you begged quietly, making a weak attempt to lift your head. His hand maintained its grip on your hair at the base of your neck, and the other pressed on the small of your back, keeping you pinned to the table. Your hand tightened over your mouth, fingertips digging into your cheek.  

“C’mon,” he grunted. “I know you’re close. Let me fuckin’ feel you, want to feel you grippin’ me while you cum. Go on now, let me have it.”

Tommy’s voice was closer now, and you bit down onto your knuckles as your orgasm creeped ever closer. Joel’s thrusts were unforgiving, the angle helping his cock reach the deepest spot inside of you.

“Don’t fuckin’ come in here,” Joel snapped loudly, hips not ceasing their movements in the slightest. His skin met yours in a satisfying smack, smack, smack. Your body was positively vibrating, core tightening around him as you felt yourself dangle precariously on the edge of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled into your hand. “I can’t, Joel.”

“Yes you fucking can,” he panted, leaning down to press a kiss against your shoulder. “Give it to me, baby.”

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Tommy’s voice was closer still. You heard the door to the greenhouse open a fraction and bang against the crate Joel had blocked it with.

“Tommy,” Joel shouted, and your face was on fire against the table as you realised what was about to happen. “I’ll wring your fuckin’ neck if you come in here right now.”

Straining your neck against Joel’s hold, you glanced up just in time to see Tommy’s head poke through the gap in the door and make eye contact with you at the exact moment your release tore through you. Your mouth hung open in ecstasy, moans spilling against your hand. But muffling your cries was futile considering he had definitely seen you, and wet sounds were filling the room as Joel fucked you, your cum dripping down your legs. Tommy’s face paled, and he disappeared from the doorway – but not before Joel spotted him.

 “You fuckin’ idiot,” Joel spat. “Get the fuck out.”

Through it all, his hips never slowed, and you choked out a gasp as his palm landed with a loud crack against your ass. He gripped the flesh, and your eyes rolled back in your head as you imagined the bruises that would no doubt be there tomorrow. Suddenly, he was spitting curses and groans of your name. Joel gripped your shoulders and tugged your body up so your back was flush to his chest.

One of his hands came around to grip your breast, thumb and index finger pinching your nipple as his other hand drifted down your stomach to rest over your mound. You cried out desperately as his finger dragged over your clit, and another orgasm ripped through your body. He pulsed inside of you, hips spasming frantically, and you could feel his hot spend coating your walls, deep groans echoing off the glass walls of the greenhouse.

When the aftershocks of your orgasms had worn off, he didn’t pull out. Just gripped you tight, kissing your neck slowly.

“Well,” he cleared his throat quietly, his large palm splayed across your stomach, holding you to his chest. His forehead lowered to rest on your shoulder, his weight beginning to lean heavier on your back as exhaustion came over him. “Guess the cat’s outta the bag.”

a continuation

stranded | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you get stranded in the middle of a blizzard. joel comes to your rescue. you share a bed for warmth. things escalate from there...

warnings/tags: 18+ content, MDNI!, smutttttt yurrrr (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, dubious consent, lil bit of somnophilia, joel is packinggg), no outbreak!joel, modern au, implied age gap, soft!joel, pet names (peach, baby, darlin', sweet girl, sweetheart), lil bit of joel being jelly, cuddling to keep the cold at bay, fluff, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 7.6k (idk what the fuck happened)

“Fuck!” 

You press down hard on the gas pedal, grimacing when your engine revs but the car doesn’t move an inch.

Your tires skid uselessly over the snow and your headlights reflect into a white wall of nothing—the snowfall so thick you can’t see anything in front of or around you, as if you’re trapped in a snow globe. The road is practically gone from existence. 

Your wipers try their best. 

The only thing you can hear is the wind whistling and the staticky sound of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ going in and out on the radio.

Yeah, you wish he would right about now. 

“Fuuuck,” you whine again, eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hit your wheel in frustration, dropping your forehead onto the horn. It honks pityingly. 

Of course, the one time you were actually going out, you had forgotten to check the weather. 

You’re probably going to die out here on this back road through the woods. There’s no one around, not that you can tell, and you’re low on gas. You were going to fill up once you got out of the woods and back into civilization, but the blizzard had other plans.

Your stomach rumbles, crying out for the dinner you had skipped in hopes of having a hearty, post-sex meal with the hook-up you are—or were—on the way to see. Though, that’s certainly not happening, and the snacks you usually had stuffed into the glovebox are gone, your sister having stolen them last week after you dropped her off at school.

(Darn that growing goober!) 

You don’t have anything that might prove useful in this situation besides the long, slim heels on your pumps (which could be used in defense), and the thin peacoat wrapped around your shoulders. You check your phone to see if you can call emergency services, but of course, it has zero bars. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper, pressing the heel of your palm to your watering eyes. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” you say to yourself, picking your head up and rubbing away the tears in your eyes. You take deep breaths and put the car into park. “You’ll be fine.”

The sudden sound of a knock on your window startles you so bad you yelp, jumping in place as ice cold terror rises up your spine. 

You can hardly see who had knocked, only their gray silhouette in the white blizzard.

The stranger knocks again. 

“You alright in there?” The shadow asks, a hint of a Texan accent curling their vowels. Shit. It’s a man. 

You slowly grab your shoe from your foot, holding it so the heel faces the window, and snow blows into your face as you carefully roll it down an inch or two for precaution, because who knows if it’s a fucking cannibal-axe-murderer who preys on unsuspecting women stranded in the snow. Maybe he does this every year—maybe this is his prime harvesting place and time. 

Your eyes are wide as you peer through the opening warily, heel at the ready. 

He’s close enough now that you can make out a prominent scowl, hard brown eyes, salt and pepper hair…

…wait a minute. You’d recognize that glower anywhere.

“Joel?”

Your lungs suddenly remember how to work again, and you inhale on a shaky breath. The hand holding your shoe drops to your thigh in relief.

His brown eyes narrow. “Peach…? The hell are you doin’ out here?” He asks, and Jesus you forgot about that stupid nickname he gave you. It sends butterflies loose in your stomach. “It’s a goddamn blizzard.” 

You scowl in exasperation, though, at his obvious observation. “Yeah, I think I know that, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“I heard a honk, figured someone needed help.” He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on the circles of mascara around your eyes. “Guess I’m right.”

You straighten in your seat, the surge of gratitude at his presence is overshadowed by the need to look self sufficient and capable, because you are. You’ve been paying your rent all on your own, buying your own groceries, making your own meals. You’re a grown ass woman! So…

“Actually, I don’t need your help, Joel. I meant to go into this snowbank,” you lie.

“Oh really?” He asks, dubious, immediately picking up on it. 

“Yes, and I'm going to get out of it. Just watch!" 

You’re making a fool of yourself, but at this point, you really don’t want to be rescued by him if only because of the bruise to your ego and definitely not because of other extenuating circumstances. You feel a boost of confidence when Joel actually steps back from the car when you start it up again, like he really believes you, but then when you shift the gear into reverse and try to make it out of the snow bank, nothing happens.

Joel steps up again, leans an arm on the frame of your car, and taps your window once more. “C’mon. Let’s go.” 

God, this is so embarrassing!

“Fine.” You roll up the window and turn off the car. Joel tugs the car door open as far as it can go and offers a gloved hand to help you out. You wobble a bit when you step out in your heels, grateful that Joel is there to steady you. Though, the feeling sours a bit when he huffs in disbelief at your shoes. 

You send him a glare, “I had plans for tonight, okay?”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” He deadpans.

“It wasn’t that bad when I first started driving.”

“Riiiight,” he drawls, “Well, I’m sorry to say, peach, but you ain’t driving in this mess anymore. You can stay with me tonight.” He says, closing the car door behind you. 

Stay? With him? 

“Joel, I couldn’t bother you with—“

“I wouldn’t offer if it was a bother.”

Joel’s as stubborn as a bull, more so than Ellie. And she is stubborn. You don’t argue, because it’s fruitless to argue with a brick wall like him. And, faced with freezing to death out here or staying in a well-insulated building, choosing the latter is obviously the right thing to do.

“Okay,” you relent and point to your trunk. “I have a bag back there.”

He raises a brow. “Heels and a bag…What kind of plans were we talkin’ about here?”

A hook up, Joel, you mentally drawl. Because…that’s exactly why you were out. 

Like hell you’ll tell Joel that, though, he’d disapprove. He’s always been the protective type. You’ve known him since your junior year in college, after your families practically merged. But you’ve never seen Joel as another dad. He’s always been…something else to you.

“A trip to Nunya.” You supply instead of the truth, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve some heat. 

“Nunya?” Joel’s brows furrow. 

“Yeah. Nunya business, Joel.” You give him a sardonic smile. 

He shakes his head and sends you a look you’re quite familiar with, the one that makes you feel inches smaller. And ten degrees hotter. 

Joel sighs in exasperation and wordlessly wrenches the trunk open. He slings your bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.

(It weighs a lot. You’d know, you shoved five different erotica books in there, just in case your date failed to make you orgasm.)

(Though thinking about Joel probably would’ve been enough.) 

You lock your vehicle with a bemused glance. “What are we gonna do about my car?” 

“I’ll tow it out tomorrow,” Joel says. “Roads are a fuckin’ mess right now.”

You trudge behind Joel to his quaint cottage sleeping cozily between tall pine trees and chubby evergreens. The porch light is on, and the windows glow a comforting orange. Puffs of smoke drift up from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, like straight out of a Christmas movie. 

You’re impressed at how close you managed to strand yourself to his house. Maybe Jesus really did take the wheel. 

Joel kicks the snow off his boots on his front porch, then opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. 

When you breach the doorway with Joel at your heels, warmth settles over your cold-bitten cheeks along with an alluring aroma of meat and tomato and spices that hits you in a wave. You’ve never seen Joel cook anything other than Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, or burgers on Tommy’s rusting grill before. Could…someone else be here? 

“Joel,” you whisper, your hand landing on his arm. He sets your bag down in the foyer with a grunt and shrugs out of his coat. 

“What?”

You point to the kitchen. “Is someone here? Am I intruding?”

Joel glances at the kitchen then back at you with a confused expression that evens out into a self-satisfied smirk when he realizes what you’re asking.

“What, you think I’ve got a date over?” 

Embarrassment creeps through you. “Who else could be cooking!”

He looks offended, though there’s a twitch to his lip, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“Joel,” you say, unimpressed.

“I'm alone, peach,” he reassures, hanging his coat up. “That’s my cookin’ you’re smellin’.”

Your eyes widen, genuine surprise written on your features, relief lingering behind it as you take your own coat off. “Is it edible though?” 

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Joel starts toward the kitchen and you trail behind him. As you follow, you take in his aggressively Texan decor and furniture. Paintings of cowboys and horses and mountains are hung artfully on cozy, beige walls. The Eagles’ discography drifts merrily in the air from an old record player. There’s a guitar stationed in practically every corner. It’s all so very Joel, though the random space ornamentals and butterfly drawings sprinkled about are so very Ellie and Sarah. It makes you smile. 

“Where are the girls?” You ask, because usually those little stinkers would be stationed at the dining room table, bickering over the answer to a ridiculously difficult math problem.

“At Dina’s,” he answers, taking off his gloves. “They wanted to play in the snow.”

Oh. So you’re here alone with him. Anxiety prickles at the edges of your mind, sinking in your stomach.

“I guess I was the only one that didn’t know about the blizzard, then.” 

“You must be livin’ under a rock to not know about it.”

You grumble in protest, but your grievances disintegrate on your tongue as you enter the kitchen and near the simmering pot. You breathe in the aroma, the smell so powerful it's almost like you’re actually tasting it. 

You look over your shoulder at him. “Is this chili?”

He nods. “Want some?”

“Hell yes.”

He comes up beside you to open a cabinet. “Go ‘head make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it out to you.” Your mouth dries at the sliver of skin that peeks out beneath his flannel as he reaches up.

You force yourself to turn around. “Wow. Such a gentleman, didn’t realize you were capable,” you say, your saccharine sweet tone doing well to mask how flustered you feel. You can breathe easier the second you exit the kitchen and enter the living room. 

His voice follows you. “A simple ‘thank you’ ‘stead'a this attitude would do you some good, y'know?"

"I know," you sing-song, grinning as you settle yourself down onto his couch, grabbing a blanket from a basket on the way. A fire crackles in the hearth and you study the flames with fascination as warmth spreads across your skin. You tug the blanket around you, pulling it up to your chin. 

Joel emerges a minute later and your gaze darts from the fire to the bowl he holds out to you. “Here.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you say emphatically, accepting the bowl and cradling it in your hands. 

He smiles, “There we go. Guess you do have some manners.”

You give him a half-bow. Joel just smiles in that familiar way, like you’re just so ridiculous he can’t believe it. It makes your stomach curl giddily. 

Having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to his elbows, Joel’s forearms are on display, muscles flexing as he tosses another log into the hearth, and you drop your gaze to your chili, as to not get caught staring. He sits down in the armchair adjacent to you with his own bowl.

You blow on the steaming chili before taking a bite, an involuntary moan releasing from you the moment it hits your tongue—paprika, peppers, tomato, cumin. It warms your stomach pleasantly. Who knew Joel could cook so well?

“This is so good,” you mumble around your bite. 

He swallows his own chili down, pupils large as he watches you. “Edible enough for ya?”

You nod enthusiastically, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, unconvinced, but he’s smiling at you again, and you can’t help but return it. 

Comfortable silence lapses between the both of you as you eat your meals. Joel finishes first, of course, setting his bowl on the coffee table and leaning into his chair with a satisfied groan. He throws an arm over the back, spreading his legs. You watch him while he watches the fire, heat licking through you.

Eventually, after you slow down, you speak again.

“Thank you, Joel, seriously, for letting me stay.”

His eyes find yours and he nods. “‘Course, peach. Wouldn’t’ve let you freeze out there.” 

You nod and glance around, taking in his cabin. A large, stone fireplace is set in the wall, a tree trunk coffee table stationed in the center of the living room, some handmade wood carvings of horses and other animals scattered about. There’s a drawing of himself sitting on the mantel, “To: Joel, From: Ellie” signed at the bottom. Your heart swells. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” you remark.

“I know,” Joel says. “You should come around more often. The girls miss you.”

Your smile turns shy and you feel a spike of bravery. “What about you? Do you miss me?” 

He takes a moment to answer, a veiny hand coming up to rub at his beard as he leans on the arm of the chair. Onyx eyes drag down your figure. “‘Course I do, darlin’” 

Heat pools hot and thick between your thighs at that look, and you’re about to press him about how much he really misses you when a buzzing in your pocket captures your attention. Your phone. Guess you have some bars now. 

marcus: where r u?

Oh right, the hookup!

you: blizzard blocked the roads. won’t make it tonight.

marcus: ok. 

You scoff at the lack of depth in his response. Not even a “stay safe out there”? Jesus. You settle into the couch with a frustrated sigh, head thumping against the cushions, eyes falling shut as exhaustion creeps into you. 

Boys always thinking with their dicks. Why do you even bother?

“What’s that about?” Joel asks. You peek an eye open at him. Firelight dances across his tan skin. He gestures to your phone. “That gotta do with the real reason for your trip tonight?” 

You rub your temple, “Yeah.”

He hums. "...Listen, I know it's none of my business but—“ 

"It was a hookup, Joel," you interrupt, already knowing where he was going with that. He tends to do that, beat around the bush so much until you’re desperate to just say it. More desperate than he was to know it. You’d rather just skip that whole process. 

"Oh,” his brows furrow.

"Yeah," you repeat dumbly, fiddling with the blanket.

"There, uh, ain't no shame in that, darlin'."

You quirk a skeptical brow, "I know."

"Alright," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. Awkwardness settles between you.

"Things are just a bit dry," you supply, though you have no idea why you're still talking, or why you described yourself and the state of your love-life like that because Joel doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that

But it captures his attention, because he's looking at you again, though this time annoyance is written on his features, along with something else you can’t name, his eyes practically black. Damnit, you knew he’d disapprove, even if he claims there’s no shame in it.

“And you went to some random boy for that?"

You straighten on the couch. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Joel? You?” Sarcasm drips from your words. 

What the hell is he implying?

His gaze jumps to the fire, the muscles in his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing on the arm of his chair. "Never mind I said anythin'."

Your arms cross defensively over your chest. "I don't need your judgment, Joel.”

"I ain't judgin'."

"Sure sounds like it."

He stands abruptly, running a hand through his peppered locks. "I'm not, I just—listen, it's gettin' late. You should sleep. I didn’t have time to get the girls’ room ready, do you want my bed?”

You shake your head, "Couch is perfectly fine, Joel. Thanks."

“You sure?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m a grown woman who can handle her decisions.” 

"I know that.” Frustration laces his words. He sighs, hand coming up to rest on his belt. “Just... let me know if you need anythin'."

“You got it.”

He turns the living room light off on the way to his bedroom down the hall. You don’t watch him leave. 

Once he's gone, you change into your pajamas and settle yourself on the couch beneath a blanket or two. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside lulls you to sleep faster than you expect. 

-----

“Fuck.”

The aggressive shivers that wrack your body are what wake you up in the middle of the night. 

Your blanket is wrapped tightly around you, but it’s a thin, furry thing. Nothing like the down comforter you have at home. The fire has also gone out in the hearth, low flames flickering in the ash.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, curling in on yourself as the cold permeates your skin. 

Aside from the chattering of your teeth and the squall outside, it’s eerily silent in the house. You realize, now, that the whooshes from the heating system you had grown accustomed to before are gone

Shit.

You reach for the lamp on the side table, pulling down on the chain. It doesn’t turn on.

“Shit.” 

You sit up, blanket wrapped around your waist. The power is out. The snow storm must’ve knocked out a power line. It’s too cold to stay out here with only your thin blanket and the clothes on your back. And Joel had said…

Let me know if you need anythin’.

You really don’t want to bother him, but the goose flesh rippling across your skin and the pathetic way your lips are quivering, along with the shudders that wrack your body as it attempts to maintain homeostasis are not something you can just sleep through.

You tightly wrap your blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe down the hall. You can see a warm light from Joel’s bedroom, the flicker of a flame on the cream walls.

You slowly push the door open but hesitate at the sight of Joel buried comfortably beneath his comforter. You don’t want to wake him… but his room is awfully toasty from the fire crackling away in his own hearth. And his bed looks absolutely heavenly. 

You steel yourself and pad to the side he sleeps on. 

“Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t respond.

You lean over to gently push his shoulder. “Joel.”

“Mm—“ His brows furrow, and he scrunches further into the blankets, reminiscent of a cat curling its paws over its head when woken up.

You push his shoulder again, a bit harder this time. “Joel. Wake up.”

He swats at the air, as if your hand is a fly buzzing around his ear. “‘M awake,” he mumbles against the pillow. 

“Joel—the power went out. I’m freezing.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes still shut. He’s no doubt rolling the words around in his head, trying to make sense of them through a sleepy haze.  

Then, when he does, he wordlessly scoots back and reaches for the comforter. He lifts it, offering the space next to him to you.

“C’mere.” 

You splutter, taken off guard by the invitation. “What? Joel—“

“‘M not askin’, peach. C’mere.” The last word leaves his lips like a command, and you straighten reflexively, apprehension holding your limbs hostage as want curls dangerously low in your abdomen at his tone of voice. That should be enough warning to not climb into bed with him.

You debate telling him to get his ass up and give you another blanket along with a couple more logs in the hearth so you can avoid any kind of proximity between you (lest you feel those capital-f Feelings), but you can practically feel the heat radiating from the bed and his body beckoning you in. 

Oh fuck it.

You let loose a shaky breath and hesitantly slip beneath the covers, facing away from him. You stay glued to the edge of the bed, careful not to let any part of you touch him. Your legs curl into your chest for extra measure. Immediately, it’s so much better. So warm. So comfortable.

And it smells like Joel.

You inhale the earthy and spicy scent of him that lingers on the linen as your head sinks into the soft pillow, but your inhale chokes off as Joel’s strong arm snakes around your waist beneath the comforter, his large hand burning like a brand when it settles hot over your stomach.

He pulls you into him, the sheets swishing as he tucks you into his body. Your back slots against his warm, broad naked chest. His bare legs intertwine with yours, his pelvis almost flush against your ass, only covered by a thin pair of briefs. 

Holy shit. 

You can feel everything. 

“Joel?” You question, voice quivering at the sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”

“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck. 

You do feel warmer, though it might not be entirely because he’s holding you, but rather because of how he’s holding you. He’s curled around you, like a koala around a tree, thighs bracketing yours. 

You can feel his beard scraping at the nape of your neck, breaths puffing against your feverish skin. 

His thumb is rubbing softly along the pudge of your tummy, palm branding your skin, his fingers dipping innocently beneath the hem of your shorts. 

You can barely breathe, or even think, heartbeat stuttering as arousal pools liquid hot and heavy between your legs. Every unknowing twitch from Joel’s fingers makes it worse. Every touch of his calloused fingertips against your skin is pure agony. Every brush of your ass against his pelvis has you throbbing. You stare wide-eyed into the darkness, gaze roaming the pitch black, as if something out there could make you forget about the ever-growing desire you feel for Joel. 

You can’t sleep like this.

It seems like Joel can though, appearing to already be deep in slumber. He hasn’t moved in a few minutes, his exhales even and slow against you. 

You try to ignore the wetness between your legs, ignore the instinctual urge to roll your hips back against him. You should just go to sleep. But this ache you feel, pounding and deep and relentless…You have to do something about it, even with Joel holding you close.

He won’t mind…right?

But how are you supposed to touch yourself with Joel’s hand in the way? 

You could just move it. That’s the right thing to do, but it feels too good, so hot and heavy on you that you just don’t want to, and as a result, an idea so absolutely fucked worms its way into your mind, lust and desperation destroying any last semblance of rational thought. You could…

No. No. You can’t do that. He’s a human fucking being, not a hand shaped vibrator. 

But… you really want to, and he’s asleep so…he won’t even know…right?

You make up your mind and slowly curl your fingers around Joel’s deadweight palm, biting your lip in concentration and shame as you carefully urge his hand further into your shorts. After each nudge of his palm, you wait to see if Joel gives you any sign of him being awake. But he’s dead asleep. After a moment, you keep going. 

This is so fucked, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you finally feel his thick fingers brush over your clothed folds.

“Shit,” you whisper, breathlessly, holding back a whimper. You manipulate his hand so that his palm is resting large and warm over your aching clit, while his index and middle finger are placed heavily above your heat. 

And then, you really say fuck you to your morals. 

You give an experimental thrust of your hips into his palm, shuddering at the contact against your clit. Then you wait to see if Joel reacts, your head tilting a bit to look over your shoulder. But Joel hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word. Good.

Confident he won’t wake, you rock your hips again and again, holding onto his hand with your own, pressing it down with each thrust of your hips to get that sweet contact. The heel of his palm bumps your aching clit with each thrust, and you bite back moans and whimpers well enough, but you can’t hide the deepening of your breaths as you climb closer and closer to your climax.

Everything else fades away as you just focus on that one goal. On crawling over the edge. You hardly feel the growing smirk pressed to the back of your neck, or the way Joel’s cock is now hard against your ass as you grind against his palm.

“F-fuck,” you huff, eyes tightly shut as you ground yourself in his presence behind you, the beat of his heart thudding against your spine, the rise and fall of his chest, the light, unconscious brush of his lips on your neck. Closure is on the horizon as you imagine him lifting up on his arm and leaning over to actually get you off, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts his fingers into your aching cunt. 

“Joel—“ you quietly moan. 

The moment his name slips from your lips, his hand suddenly pulls back, and you let out a frustrated groan (he can’t do that!), which quickly turns into a squeak of mortification (oh yes, he absolutely can!).

Because Joel is awake. 

He. Is. Awake.

And he knows what you were doing, his chest rumbling against your spine as he—is he fucking laughing at you?

“Needy girl, aren’t you, peach?”

Mortification ignites in your cheeks, nausea pooling in your stomach. “Joel, oh my god, I’m so sorry—“

His hand gravitates to your thigh, curling around it. He pulls it up, inserting his knee in between your legs and he griiiinds it into your clothed cunt. Your desperate apology is cut off by a reflexive wanton moan, your back arching as pleasure reverberates inside you.

“‘S okay, baby, I understand. So fuckin’ desperate you had to use me while I was sleepin’, huh? Didn’t get what you wanted earlier so now you’re searchin’ for somethin’ else, hm?”

His large hand finds your waist again, sliding down your stomach to inch beneath both your shorts and your panties now. You gasp as his fingertips find your clit easily.

“I’m just a ‘lil offended I wasn’t your first choice,” he chides, fingers slipping through your soaking folds. “But I like this much better than you findin’ some boy to get you off. You need’a be fucked by a man, darlin’. Ain’t that right?” 

His words send heat straight to your core, thighs clenching around his knee as he ruts it against you while simultaneously stimulating your clit with his fingers.

“Yes, Joel,” you moan. “Need you.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat when he growls, “Goddamn right you do.”

You can’t believe this is happening.

Joel slides his hand further into your panties, his middle finger curling in to sink into your soaked cunt. You choke on a gasp. 

“Who’s the guy?” He asks, randomly, while his finger rocks into you.

You can’t think as Joel inserts his ring finger alongside the other, stretching you so deliciously. “W-what?”

“The boy you were gonna see tonight. Who is he?” 

Who was it? Mark? Matt? And why does he care? You don’t know, you don’t care, only thoughts of Joel Joel Joel consume your waking being. 

“I—I don’t know, Joel. Please, oh my god.” 

He hums pityingly. “Poor thing can't even remember his name.” His other hand comes up to slide through your hair, gripping the locks at the nape of your neck. He tugs, and you melt. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget mine.” 

He doesn’t need to worry about that.

Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit as he thrusts his thick, long fingers up and into you, curling them to hit that spot that has your heartbeat dropping between your thighs, desperate and loud and begging for release. 

“Hhhoh— Joel!” 

“Tha’s right, baby. So goddamn wet. You’ve been dealin’ with this for awhile now, huh?”

You nod into the pillow on a broken moan as his fingers withdraw and sink into you at a steady pace, his thumb circling and circling and circling.

“Words, baby.”

You cry out, hands gripping the pillow. “Yes, yes. Joel. Been wanting this f’so long.”

“Should’a come to me first. Would’a helped you out a long time ago,” he drawls.

Yes you absolutely should have, based on how quickly you’re approaching your orgasm.

Your cries are so loud, but you don’t care, focusing only on your pleasure and the feel of Joel’s mouth on your throat. 

You’re finally getting what you want. And fuck, is it amazing.

Your eyes roll back as it all builds up inside you, Joel’s hand unrelenting as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re scorching, everything hot and intense, your stomach tightening, your legs stretching out as the pleasure builds and builds.

Fuck, you’re gonna cum—

It rips through you violently, eyes prickling with tears, your thighs clenching as your walls bare down repeatedly around Joel’s fingers, making him groan. 

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs, hand eventually inching out of you and your shorts to squeeze your thigh appreciatively as aftershocks run through you, thighs quaking and clit throbbing. “That’s what you needed, huh? S’it feel good, cummin’ all over my fingers?”

His fucking voice!

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, sinking into the sheets, eyes drooping shut as pleasure lulls you to sleep. 

He tsks, “Wake up, darlin’ I ain’t done with you yet.”

His beard scrapes against your neck as he moves to your ear.

“It’s my turn to use you.”

Your eyes shoot open. Fuck. 

Joel pulls your panties down your legs as far as he can, and you squirm to wriggle them off of you.

He pulls away for a moment, but when he’s back, the bare, hot, thick length of him is pressed between your ass cheeks, and a full body shudder runs through you.

Holy shit, he’s big.

He grips your thigh again, but this time he throws it over his own. And then you feel it, the slick head of his cock as he guides it through your folds.

Oh fuck.

“You okay, peach?” He asks, laying a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Now you have tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason. His hand slides across your waist and up beneath the hem of your shirt, palming your breast. Your nipples tighten. 

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow down a lump of lava. “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good. Wanna give you all of me, how’s that sound, darlin’?”

You will take whatever, anything you can get from Joel.

“Good, Joel. Yes, please, oh my god.”  

“There are those manners.”

A desperate whine slips from your lips as he directs the head of his cock into you, slowly and carefully, his hand running up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. God, he’s stretching you so much, hot and thick and pulsing inside you. It’s almost painful, but it’s a welcome pain.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moan when he stops to let you breathe, “You’re so big.”

“I ain’t even halfway in yet, darlin’.”

“W-what?” How is that even possible? 

“You can take it.” He says, sliding in some more and fuck you don’t have much of a choice. but you can, and you will because he feels too fucking good, and you’re ready for him to make you feel it into next week.

“Is…is it all the way in yet?” You ask, thoroughly stretched and filled. 

“Almost, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

That makes you clench down even more, and he releases a pained groan behind you. “Relax, darlin’, c’mon.”

You do your best and let yourself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the crackling of the fire.

And then, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up completely, and your mind is right back to him, a soft cry slipping from your lips into the pillow.

 “There we go, tha’s it. Good job. Taking me so well,” he croons, stroking your side.

“F-fuck me, Joel, please move.”

He squeezes your ass in his large palm in retaliation to your command. “You use me, I use you, remember?”

But he listens anyway, likely desperate to move himself, because then he’s gripping your hip with a large hand and pulling back just to sheath himself fully into you once more, his cock head bumping against your cervix, and holy fucking shit.

“Joel!” You cry, and he leans over to kiss you, teeth biting at your plump lower lip as he thrusts into you again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

He rolls into you at a steady, bruising pace, and you’re practically boneless as you just take it. Cries and whimpers and moans spilling out of you like a gas leak as he mouths down your throat, sucking and biting and oh my god this is way better than just getting yourself off on his hand. 

Then Joel shifts, pushing at your side to press your stomach into the mattress. You whine as he pulls out of you to situate himself behind you. He grabs your hips with both hands and pulls them up and backwards, easing himself back into you until your ass meets his skin, then he rolls his hips, driving his cock deep from a brand new angle.

All you can do is sob into the pillow. 

He’s so fucking big, so fucking deep you can’t think of anything else besides him and his wonderful cock, or the filthy things he’s whispering into your shoulder blades.

His large hand plants itself on your spine, and your hands scramble for purchase on a pillow.

“Sweet girl, taking me so fuckin’ well,” he purrs. “You were desperate for this cock, huh? God, I wish you could see yourself. Split open on me like this. Your little boy toy wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this, ain’t that right?"

You shake your head. God, why did you even make that dick appointment in the first place?

You hadn’t even realized what being fucked by a “real man” meant until now.

Joel knows how to fucking deliver, you guess that’s why he’s so successful in his contracting business. He’s delivering you straight to that blessed release. 

You clench around the girth of him, the filthy sounds of your arousal echoing in his room along with the cracks and snaps from the fire burning steadily in the hearth.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you definitely will be able to after this because you’re mindless as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Joel, fuck—mmph—!” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Can’t say anythin’ but my name.”

His breathing has become more labored, desperate grunts escaping his lips as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s getting close, deep and gravely moans falling out of him as his thrusts become harder and more sporadic.

His hand sneaks around your front, spanning your entire stomach as he slides down to your soaking folds, his middle and ring finger finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and giving them a gentle tap before circling, using that same method from before that had you squirming.

You writhe on his length, legs falling out beneath you as your orgasm swells within you. 

“Please Joel,” you whimper into the pillow. 

“I’ve got you,” he promises. 

It’s there, filling your body, building and cresting and searing white-hot through your limbs. 

And then he thrusts a certain way, hitting that spot within you, and his fingers are circling and—

Yeah.

You fall boneless to the mattress as you come apart, your arousal coating Joel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your release, stroking your spine. Pleasure floods through your body as the tension releases, and tears freely fall as you cry into the pillow.

Because goddamn it!

How can something feel so good? 

And then Joel’s pulling out of you and letting loose a long, satisfied moan as he comes all over your back, hot stripes painting you. 

He collapses next to you, groaning something about his back.

And you can’t help but laugh, delirious and soft, and Joel’s laughing too, brown eyes sparkling. His calloused hand comes up, runs his thumb along your jaw, and he’s smiling at you, soft and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

“You alright, peach?”

“Ohhh yeah,” you giggle, sighing with contentment.

You’re gonna be feeling this for days, just like you wanted.

Joel’s lips brush against your forehead gently, and you’re too tired to acknowledge it, slumber pulling you under far too quickly. You think you can feel the gentle swipe of a wet washcloth on your back before you pass out.

-----

“Fuck…”

The bed is empty when you wake, and a spike of anxiety shoots through you as you sit up. A fire still crackles in the hearth, a fresh log dropped in the ash. On the night stand is a note, beneath it, one of Joel’s t-shirts, your jeans, and a pair of your underwear. 

Mortification climbs through you as you read:

Peach,

My bathroom’s on the left if you’d like to shower. I hope you don’t mind, I went through your bag to get you some panties  underwear. Lot of books in there. You sure like to read.

Oh god, he found your erotica stack. The covers are not misleading, either, he definitely knows what kind of books they are. You force yourself to keep reading through the humiliation.

I’m out picking up Sarah and Ellie, I’ll be home soon. There’s pancakes on the counter. We’ll tow your car when I get back.

Also–about last night…we don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that if you ever need something like that again, I’m here. And for anything else. I’m here. Always. 

See you soon. 

Warmth fills your body and you reread those last sentences over and over. 

Always. Does he really mean that? 

You check the alarm clock on his nightstand–it’s eleven fucking a.m. Holy shit, you haven’t slept that late in a long time. 

When you stand, an ache radiates through you, and memories of last night flit in your mind and along with them, a fresh new wave of arousal. You scramble for the shower.

You emerge fresh and clean twenty minutes later, smelling like Joel, having only his body wash and shampoo to use. Each inhale is practically torture, and the ache between your legs is just another reminder. Seeing yourself in his shirt makes it worse. You try and push it away.

You descend the steps, halting when you hear the sound of Ellie’s voice from the kitchen.

“And I was like, pew pew! And I got both of them out!”

Sarah’s scoff of disbelief follows. “Nuh-uh! You didn’t even hit me!”

You creep down the steps, smiling a bit at Ellie’s outcry of “Yes I fucking did!”, and then you hear it–Joel’s low laugh, the Texan drawl.

“You kiddos are gonna drive me crazy. Just eat your damn pancakes.”

“Why’d you make these in the first place? You don’t even like pancakes,” Sarah teases. 

“Uh…”

You decide you should probably help him out. “Hey girls.”

Three heads snap in your direction. The eyes of one skirting down your body, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The other two brighten in shock. 

“What are you doing here!” Ellie gasps. 

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Sarah adds.

You enter the kitchen and come up behind them to pull them in for a hug, your arms hooking around their necks. You smush their cheeks against yours. Ellie grumbles, Sarah laughs.

“I know! I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m just super busy with being an adult and all that shit,” you say, letting them go so they can breathe. You round the island, grabbing a plate and stacking two pancakes on it.

“Well, stop being busy. We miss you,” Ellie says.

“If I could, I would.”

“Why are you wearing Dad’s shirt?” Sarah asks, eyes narrowing, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“I–um–” the question catches you off guard, and you scramble for an excuse, eyes flicking to Joel desperately. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his broad chest, now covered in yet another, dark flannel. How many does he own?

“Snowstorm stranded her here last night, and she didn’t have any clean clothes,” Joel says, definitively.

It’s not a lie at all, and yet, it feels like one.

Sarah and Ellie exchange a look that says, yeah fucking right. You shovel pancake into your mouth to try and cool down the blush in your cheeks. 

“Speakin’ of,” he continues, “I’ve got the tow dolly all hooked up so when you’re done, we can tow your car out.”

“Great. Thank you, Joel.”

His brown eyes flick between yours, his hand coming up to rest large and warm on your shoulder. “‘Course, sweetheart.” 

You finish your pancakes without any more embarrassing questions from the girls, thank God, and then you’re out in the snow wearing a pair of Joel’s boots stuffed with socks (they’re too big, but they’re better than heels) and bundled up in one of his coats, watching Joel tow your tiny car out of the snowbank.

It’s just as cold as yesterday, though the dreary sky has cleared into a baby blue, the sun bright and high above the clouds. The roads are clearer, the snow plows having come by not too long ago. 

You grimace as you hear your car groan and creak as Joel pulls it out of the snow, big puffs of it falling off the roof in clumps. Eventually, it’s on solid ground once more, and he tows it back toward his cabin. 

Back in the driveway, Joel hops out of his truck and double checks your car. He pats the roof of it when he deems it accetable. “All good to go, sweetheart.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you so much Joel, seriously.”

He nods, though he looks…nervous for some reason. “‘Course, darlin’. Glad I could help.”

You don’t really want to leave, but you’ve bothered him long enough, so you stroll to the driver's side and go to open it, but suddenly Joel’s hand comes down to keep it closed. You look up at him confused. 

His expression is hard, serious as he looks down at you. “Do you regret last night?”

Well. You were not expecting that. You thought that, maybe, it would just remain undiscussed. A blip. Something you both shared, but never spoke of again. You know your answer, though.

 “No. I don’t.”

“Good,” he says, eyes dark, “me either.”

He opens the door for you, pauses for a second then shuts it, voice desperate. “I just need to say this, before you go.”

You nod, encouraging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his graying locks. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and shuts his eyes tight. When he opens them again, there's a hard determination in them. Your pulse quickens, your legs turn to jelly.

“I like you, peach,” he says. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me because of the whole single father thing. And, also because I’m me. But I just thought I’d tell you how I felt, because,” he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, “I’m thinkin’ you might like me, too.”

Your hands are shaking, and not because of the cold. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with how lucky you've been these past fifteen hours.

“I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, Joel," you confess. 

“Oh,” he says, breathless, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your own grin forming to match his. 

The breeze shakes the evergreens, drifting flakes of snow onto Joel’s graying hair. His nose is reddened by the biting cold, but his eyes are warm as he smiles down at you. 

“Not gonna lie to you sweetheart, I’m kind of glad you got stranded here.”

"Yeah, me too," you laugh, and then you pull him down to you, pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss.

This kiss is the exact opposite of the one he gave you last night. It’s careful, sweet, tentative. He reveres your mouth, rather than ravishes it. You’re both bundled in multiple layers, standing in the freezing cold rather than lying naked in a warm bed. 

And yet, it’s just as perfect, if not more.

Eventually Joel pulls back, hands heavy on your waist. He’s still grinning. His hands frame your face, his thumb running softly along your cheekbone. 

“Peach,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

IM GOING CRAZY OVER THEM

My ex boyfriend’s parents || Joel x Tess x reader

AN: So i’m nervous af to post this. It was long awaited,  a lot of you asked for a part 2 of this fic. It can also be read alone. It was my first time writing a threesome, so I hope it’s okay. 

This is for the bi/pan girlies or they/thems only.

Summary: After discovering Chad was cheating on you, Joel offered you to  show you what a real man felt like. Now, his wife was taking part of it as well. (no outbreak AU)

CW: threesome, cunnilingus (fxf), voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, unprotected sex, praise kink, nicknames (babydoll, sweetheart, etc.), weed consumption.

That special night, Tess simply watched as her husband took care of you, until you were too tired and had to leave, but with the promise of seeing them again.

Back to his usual gaslighting, Chad had tried calling, but you ignored his calls.

When the number called again, you heard Tess’s familiar voice on the other end. She had left a message.

**

Keep reading

GOD DAYUM😵 UGH

• THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T CARE •

pairing: joel miller x (18+, she/her) reader

summary: joel and ellie are tasked to move a package from jackson to san diego. little did they know you were the "cargo..."

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language, cordycep apocalypse related violence & weapons, canon divergence, tlou part 1 & 2 spoilers; angst, medium to slow burn, pet names, voyuerism, sub!joel and dom!reader, age gap in pairing, masturbation, etc.

word count: ~6.3k

support your writer: reblogs for daddy joel ✨🌿

request: by @yourmomsmilfmistress; katrina babes, i have another idea!!! i was thinking something along the lines of (whatever male character you want/ im not picky) is OBSESSED with reader and one day after a torturous hangout he starts to 🍆💦 ( ya know) after she leaves and for some reason it's not working and it's like he's just edging himself but (of course) reader comes and walks in on it and it's like sub!male and dom!reader smut!!!

note: um… most definitely. the way i thought of joel freaking miller instantly. sub male? common now 😈 we are set in a post-tlou part 2 world where no one died, abby who?, and ellie lives happily on the farm (aka 20+ age). also, loosely following the plot of part 1. for visuals of characters, i am moving forward with what we’ve seen so far of hbo’s part one and game’s part two casting. although as it’s older ellie, i went with video game looks. hopefully that makes sense. enjoy my fellow hoes ⚡️

Don't tell them your name. Just tell them you're there to see Maria.

His words keep running through your head as you gallop atop your trusted steed, Horse. He told you, repeatedly, that they will find you - not the other way around. All you needed to do was get to the vicinity of Jackson County. Well, you are about a mile into said county and you haven't come across a single person. Let alone, a single runner.

The two things cannot co-exist this far from the cities. If there are no runners or clickers, then there must be people. If there are infected, there are no people. But emptiness? That is something unheard of. It puts you on edge. You swear you want to just yell, yell to draw something out. But that would be stupid. You don't know how many are out here ... people or infected.

You hop over a razor wired fence in the middle of the road. Its height hits a the top of your knee. Perfect stop runners. Your first sign that people have been in this neck of the woods. The deeper you get into Jackson County, you wonder why all you need to say is "I'm here to see Maria." Would these people attack you and saying those words would be the only thing to stop them? Or are they dumb enough to bring just about anyone back into their town? You have absolutely no clue what he has signed you up for.

Fear stands your hairs on end. It fuels your adrenaline and heart as Horse guides you into an opened field. On the main road, you read a sign that displays "surface may be icy." You're thankful you were assigned this job in the middle of July. In front of you, you note green ivory glued to the brick walls of an old music store. The roads were shit, as usual. Cracks and bumps from overgrowth and lack of maintenance. You hope they are not too rough on Horse's shoes. She had them switched out in Colorado, back when you saw your people last.

Horse abruptly stops. Harsh enough for your full body to push up against her back. "Fuck," you grumble with a hand to your head. "What the hell?" You slowly open your eyes to note the clicker before you. With widening eyes, you swiftly reach to unhook your knife from the saddle. As quiet as a mouse, you hop off of the pillion and carefully land your feet on the grass below. You side step as you make your way closer. its clicks grow louder as it uses its echolocation in the opposite direction.

Your eyes are constantly moving, wondering if there are any other infected around. There is luckily no movement. Just one single clicker. The fungi sporadically growing throughout its body. The cordyceps on full display on its face - if you can even call it a face. In your last two steps, you rush up to it. You hook your arm over its chest. Your fingers curve over its shoulder as you grip tightly against the rough flesh. With your other hand, you stab your knife into the crook of its neck. It quickly became limp in your arms. You let slide off your body and ultimately onto the road.

"Drop the knife," you hear behind you. The voice is rough and booming. You gradually put your hands up. You drop the knife, careful to have it fall upon its hilt and not its blade. "On your knees," it bellows. You laugh, tilting your head to the side. "No can do," you scoff. "I only get on my knees when I want to." The man behind you laughs as he slowly walks up to you. His boots crunching against the dirt and gravel.

"On your knees," another voice appears. Despite its higher tone, it is just as rough. A smile grows upon your face as you carefully drop to your knees. "Oh for you, of course," you mutter to the woman. She quickly grabs hold of your wrist and places it behind your back. Her grip harsh and tight. You release a laugh as you lean back into your captor. "I'm here for Maria," you mutter.

Abruptly, the movements behind you stop. The grasp remains tight. "Maria?" the exasperated man's voice pushes through the air. His boots' steps become faster as he rushes behind you. "Why?" the woman asks. You feel the cool head of a gun at the back of your neck. "Hey, hey, hey," you furiously mumble. "I-I'm a smuggler. I'm with a group of people who told me Maria owes them one. I just got sent here for her to pay the debt."

The gun is pressed harder against your neck. "What debt?" the man's voice asks. You move your head to the side, attempting to pull yourself away from the gun's focused point. The gun holder makes sure it stays against your skin despite your movements. "I don't even know, man. I was just sent here. They told me to say 'I'm here for Maria' and that she would know what to do," you spit out.

You hear the man pace behind you. He sighs heavily. His voice hushed as he speaks towards the woman. "I don't feel good about this, El," he whispers. "Does she have any people in her past?" the woman asks. "Not that I know of," he says as those steps draw closer once more. You are suddenly pushed to the ground. You cut up your chin as you couldn't catch yourself in time. "Fuck," you mutter into the ground. "Your name," he mumbles. "I don't have time for games." You yell as your palms lay flat against the surface. "Rita," you quickly lie.

"Alright, Rita," the man's voice bustles behind you. "Let's go." Next thing you knew, a bag was pulled over your head. Your head was then banged against the hard rubber bedding of a truck.

They grip against the bag over your head so hard that it pulls on some of your hair as it uncovers your face. Your eyes slowly blink to adjust to the light. "Shit," you grumble as you relax your arms, only to realize that you were tied to a chair. Rope. Fuck, you think. Rope hurts the most.

"Now, Rita, I'm not going to ask again. Why are you here for Maria?" The familiar voice asks. You squint to look in his direction. A latino man with slicked black hair crouches before you. You look behind him to recognize that you were in a stable - a wooden stable. There is hay all over the floor, but no horses. What kind of stable doesn't have horses? As your eyes trail back towards your feet, you note red splotches staining the wooden floor below you. "Damn it," you whisper the elongated swear under your breath. You know exactly what kind of place this is.

"I told you already, man," you whine. "My people didn't tell me shit. Just that I was assigned a job and Maria owed a ride." You look into the brown eyes staring holes into your face. "I'm here to collect on that ride," you whisper. "To where?" the man asks. "I'll tell Maria ... once I get my ride," you answer with a smirk. The man raises his fist as his upper lip tenses. You wince at the sight.

“Tommy!” You recognize the woman’s voice as he holds back his fist. She walks out from the darkness of one of the stables. You smile at the sight. She looks younger than you. Her reddish brown hair gave you goosebumps. Her eyes a greenish blueish grey. Something you would have envied as a child. She some how looks sweet, but also has clearly endured so much in her short time.

“So, we have Tommy,” you share as you nod towards the man. “And El,” you murmur as you look up to her. You smile - a smile that El winces at. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” you sigh as you attempt to shrug against the chair. “I don’t want to give anyone grief. I just need to talk to-” Suddenly, a remarkable woman bursts through the doors. Another man at her side. Her eyes serious and hellbent. Her skin a deep and beautiful brown. She is undeniably gorgeous, and surprisingly pregnant. She definitely had the glow, complete with her large firmed bump. “Tommy, what the hell is this?” she asks sternly.

Maria, you think. They never gave you a picture, but you knew from the second she commanded that room. The second both Tommy and El backed away from you. Their hands either up or open at their sides. She was in charge. And she was headed right for you. “Maria,” you say with a sing songy voice. Her head shoots your way. “I need a ride.”

Maria stares down at your smile. Her upper lip pulls, just like Tommy’s. “Where?” she asks calmly. “San Diego,” you answer. “San Diego?” she scoffs. “I don’t owe them that much.” You tilt your head, smiling to yourself. “Well, someone thinks you do,” you smirk. Tommy grunts as he steps towards you. Maria quickly puts out an arm across his chest.

With a sigh, she returns her gaze to you. Her arm still across his chest. You are curious about those two. “I obviously can’t take you myself,” she mutters. “Obviously,” you affirm as you nod towards her stomach. “I’ll find you someone. You’ll leave in the morning,” she says carelessly. She turns around and speaks to her people. “Untie her,” she says under her breath.

The man who walked in with her quickly follows through with her demand. You rub your wrists and forearms where the rope’s red rings pressed into your skin. You stand with the devil’s smile across your face. El is the first to walk up to you, while Tommy’s eyes are still daggers. “Hey, sorry,” she says as she rubs the back of her neck. “Things didn’t go so well the last time a new person asked about one of our people.” You hum as you nod. “Make sense,” you say under your breath as you return your gaze to Tommy.

“Maria’s his wife,” El adds as she follows your eyes. “He’s been extra sensitive, given the baby and all.” You smile at her words. She pulls your attention. “It’s also Ellie by the way,” she mumbles. She gestures goodbye and walks out. “Rita?” the man asks. You look at him with confusion. “My name’s Jesse. Come on, follow me.” With hesitation, you follow the tall man out into the dark night.

Your eyes quickly fall upon the string lights crossing from building to building. It is so beautiful your mouth gapes open. “We have a small bed and breakfast for travelers,” he shares as he points to a building at the end of the street. “Shit - a bed and breakfast?” you scoff under your breath. As you walk, you note the happy and clean people randomly walking about. They are loud - comfortably loud. It must be nice.

“Where you from?” Jesse asks. His gaze stuck on you. “I don’t do small talk,” you say with a weak smile. “I don’t mean to be rude.” He laughs, raising his hands. “No, I get it. Just trying to make conversation,” he answers. “Oh, well if we’re making conversation, tell me what your favorite color is,” you teasingly laugh. He chuckles, shooting you a sweet smile. “Orange,” he scoffs. “You?” You nod, smiling as you step onto the front deck of this apparent bed and breakfast. “Green.”

With quick goodbyes, you go inside and easily secure your room. The room is on the first floor. Inside the small space, you have a worn down desk, chair, and bed. Your pack is already resting against the foot of the bed frame. You grab the back of the chair and hook it underneath the door’s knob. You turn the lock and deadbolt the door. When you finally lay back to rest, you reflect on your day. It didn’t go as well as you had hoped - as you had been told. But at least you are alive. At least you are on your way to San Diego.

After the best sleep of your life, Jesse led you to a building across the way. Maria, Tommy, Ellie, Jesse, another woman and a man sit alongside a long dinner table. The woman appears sweet. She sits closely to Ellie. The man is something else. His demeanor laid back, like he had no care in the world. His face kind, but also worn thin after years of this shit world. You can immediately see through the facade and know he is good. But damn does he give off such a strong guard dog vibe. He has random patches of grey amongst his black hair and beard. His eyes dark, but youthful. You struggle to keep your eyes off of him. He watches you, though. He sized you up as soon as you walked through the door.

“Rita,” Maria calls out. You are too busy attempting to watch him through your eye lashes. “Rita,” she says louder. You quickly turn your attention to her. Only now remembering that Rita was the name you gave them. “Yes,” you answer with high energy. “These are my best people,” she shares. “I want Joel and Ellie on this.” Ellie sits up straight, shocked as she exchanges looks with the girl beside her. The two begin to discuss in hushed tones. The man abruptly turns towards Maria, disingenuously laughing under his breath. “No, Maria,” he scoffs. “That ain’t happening.” The man stands, his hands firm against the table. He must be Joel. Rarely have you met someone who’s name perfectly fits them. It makes you smile.

Maria sighs as though she saw this coming. “I would go myself-” she starts. “So let me go,” Tommy interjects. Joel and Maria quickly respond “no” in unison. Maria takes a breath as she slowly looks to her partner. “I’m about to pop. You can’t go,” she whispers. “I need you.” Tommy solemnly nods as he looks back towards the rest of the group. Maria turns back to Ellie with patient eyes. “Ellie, Dina - are y’all okay with this?” she asks. Dina nods, looking at Ellie. "J.J. will be fine. You should go," she whispers. Ellie then turns to Maria and nods.

Joel's scoff could be heard from two buildings down. "This is bullshit, Maria and you know it," he yells as he slams his hand against the table. Tommy stands, pointing towards him. "Watch it, Joel," he warns through gritted teeth. Maria takes a breath as she looks between Ellie and Joel. "You two have gone across state lines more times than any of us. This should be easy as pie," she says softly. He rolls his eyes as a deep, unenthused chuckle falls from his lips. "What's the cargo?" he asks with furrowed brows as he looks off in the distance.

Maria turns towards you. She rakes over you with slight confusion and hesitation. Within a second, there was a moment where her face smoothed out. She took a breath and returned to Joel. "She is," she states with finality. Your face remains looking down the table, but your eyes travel to Joel's seat. He gradually turns to look at the group. With a guttural growl, he says, "Absolutely not." Maria throws her hands up. "Joel, they will come to collect. I will not put anyone else's life in danger," she yells.

"If they come to collect, they can take her dead body," Joel booms as he pulls a gun from his holster and points it towards your head. You remain still. Your breathing intensified as the remainder of the group stands to their feet. "Joel," Maria says softly. "We need her - whether you like it or not. We need her in San Diego." Joel exhales through his flared nostrils. His mouth tight as he looks down at you through the sights of his pistol.

"What's so important about her?" he asks as he lowers the gun. Maria sighs in relief. "I don't know," she shakes her head. "All I know is these people helped us in a pinch back when me and dad started up. They said they'd come to collect and all they needed was a team to get something to San Diego." Tommy watches her intently. It must have been the first time she shared this with him. "I've seen what these people have done when groups don't pay up, Joel," she mutters. "We will not win that fight without losing everything."

Joel sucks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He holsters his gun and walks towards the front door. He hooks a backpack over his shoulder and turns back towards the group. "Ellie?" he asks as he slowly opens the door. You turn to watch Ellie kiss Dina. She presses her head against hers and whispers things you cannot make out. They separate with a strong embrace. Ellie walks towards Joel. "You coming, Rita?" she calls out behind her. You stand immediately. Your shocked eyes fall upon Maria and Tommy as you attempt to process everything that has happened in the past few minutes. You grab your pack and walk out to meet the pair in the street.

Ellie watches Joel with trust and a hint of distaste. You wonder about their story. As you walk up, the two stop talking and turn to look at you. "Hello," you greet awkwardly. "While we're out there, you do exactly what I say - when I say. Understand?" Joel says sternly as he points a finger in your face. How could those sweet eyes simultaneously look so threatening? "Understood," you whisper under your breath as you exchange looks with Ellie.

Joel quickly turns and heads straight to what looks like a mechanic's garage. "Does he always have a stick up his ass?" you ask as you skip to catch up with Ellie. She smiles, nervously biting her lip. "At first," she mutters under her breath as her eyes remain on him. "The Chevy," he asks a man standing behind the desk. He promptly hands him keys without question. You nod, noting how nice it must be to live in Jackson.

"Chevy, huh?" you say, attempting to start a conversation with the man. Joel completely ignores you as he slides the keys into the door handle. "Nice try, but he's not going to crack for a while," Ellie whispers in your ear as she walks to the other side of the truck. You laugh as you open the side door and hop into the backseat. "Seatbelt," he says softly as he points Ellie's way. "Oh," she mutters as she slides it over her body and clips it at her side.

The three of you sat in silence for the first hour of the trip. It was unbearably boring. Wyoming's sights were not as incredible outside of Jackson county. You wish you could sleep, but did not trust the two enough to even try. "Joel," Ellie starts but continues to laugh. "Remember when we cleared this hotel. Remember the tomatoes?" She laughs so hard that she holds her stomach. She leans fully against the passenger seat as she kicks her feet up. You swear you watch Joel crack a smile as he watches the girl burst into a laughing fit. You wish you got a better look.

"What happened with the tomatoes?" you curiously ask Ellie. She turns, struggling to speak between laughs. As she starts, Joel quickly interrupts her. "Don't tell her anything. She's cargo, nothing more," he instructs. Ellie sinks into her chair. Her expression perplexed as she seemed excited to share. "Just cargo, huh?" you taunt. His face remains still as he eyes focus on the road. "Wow, you Jackson people are the sweetest I've ever met," you say sarcastically. "Maybe I should just dip out on this trip. I can probably make it on my own."

Joel quickly slams against the breaks. Your shoulder digs into the back of his seat as you let out a stunned groan. "What the hell?!" you yell. "We are taking you to San Diego, or we are taking your body," he turns to say with stern eyes. You place distance between you two. A sudden rush of alertness and danger bursting through your body. "Let me be clear. I don't care if you're dead or alive by the end of this trip. We are paying off Maria's debt," he seethes. "I'd recommend shutting up if you plan to get there alive."

You suck your tongue against your cheek as you laugh under your breath. You lean back harshly against the back of your seat. "Eyes on the road, asshole," you say as you nonchalantly gesture towards the street. He rolls his eyes as he faces forward behind the wheel. He presses on the gas gradually. Ellie sits in awkward silent with a tight lip. She finds comfort in looking out the window.

Less than a week has gone by and you are barely crossing the border into Utah. In each passing day, you learn something new about Ellie. She loves to draw. She met her partner, Dina, on the first day she got to Jackson. Her son is named after Jesse and Joel. She calls him her "potato" - an incredible nickname you find endearing. The days are starting to blend together, but Ellie remains a highlight of each.

Joel, on the other hand, has remained annoyingly silent. He solely speaks to Ellie. If he does choose to talk to you, it is usually some demand where he forgot how to say "please." He is abundantly cold. It is infuriating. Here and there, you catch him staring your way. His glimpses seem familiar, as opposed to his usual and intentional looks of anger.

He never looks at your eyes, but his gaze tends to fall on your lips and hair. Any time you caught his eye line, he would immediately look away. The way his gaze lingered on you always left you in a ball of confusion. You thought you would have been on edge, being stared at for hours on end. Yet, you loved it. It made you feel seen. It made you feel beautiful. If he wasn't so vocal about his disapproval, you would think he had a "thing" for you. For now, you just enjoy his looks - hoping they are filled with adoration and not hatred.

Luckily for the three of you, communication was not needed as much when taking out the infected. The trio even came across a group of clickers a day ago. Without saying a word, the three put on their gas masks and stepped into the spores. They could all hear the clicking echoing through the old and damaged walls. With only nods and looks, the three separated and silently took down each clicker.

You turned to look at them with excitement. “That was awesome!” you said joyously. “Very SWAT-team.” Ellie was kind enough to crack a smile as she cleaned her blade on the side of her jeans. You turned to Joel, waiting for any reaction. He gave you absolutely nothing. He shook off the blood on his machete and gracefully placed it back onto his backpack. He then immediately moved toward the cabinets in front of him to search for supplies. God, did he really not have a sense of humor?

Tonight, you find yourself resting beside Ellie in a closed off room. The day was once again filled with ambiguous look exchanges with Joel. Your body aches from taking out runners. You wonder if you'll be in pain for the entire trip. The room rests at the end of a long hallway with no other entrances or exits. The only doorway to the outside was located at the end of the hallway and was guarded by the one, Joel Miller. You continued to wrestle with sleep as you lay uncomfortably in your sleeping bag. You have now spent hours staring at the plant infested ceiling. Ellie, luckily, rests peacefully at your side. She felt safe enough to put earbuds in to help her sleep. Another thing of hers to be jealous of.

After a few hours, you decide that it will most likely be impossible for you to sleep tonight. You quietly stand and put your pajama shorts over your undies. You open the door into the hallway. It's long corridor was scarier at night. You pull your flashlight from your pocket. Clicking it on, you remind yourself that the only door is at the very front. You would undeniably see if anyone entered the dark hallway with you.

As you reach the end of the hall, you begin to hear quiet moans coming from the other side of the door. Your mind quickly rushes to the thought of a runner making their way inside. But once you hear slight heavy breathing and groans, you immediately recognize that the sounds were coming from Joel. Excitement bursts through your chest as you press your ear against the door. You could not have imagined a better sound escaping his lips. His groans sound so sweet, so supple. You wish you could be the reason they fall from his lips.

You nervously turn back to see that the door at the other end of the lengthy hallway remained close. There was no way anyone would be able to hear at the other end. Not unless they were right where you were standing. With a smile, you hear his breathing louden. You wish you could see him. See his brows pulling together as his mouth hangs open. You wish you could watch him stroking himself. You would bet on your life that his cock was large and girthy. You have been stealing glances of it beneath his tight jeans.

Your mouth starts to water as you hear his moans grow louder. It takes all your strength and will not to burst through the doorway and beg him to let you help. God, would you absolutely beg for that man - without question. You wonder who's on his mind. Who could possibly be the lucky person whom he is wanking off to? Your legs feel weak. You actually contemplate sitting down and playing with yourself alongside his intoxicating moans.

“Oh, Rita,” you hear fall from his mumbling lips. Your entire body lights up with pleasure. He is thinking about you… Your legs buckle beneath you as you struggle to stay standing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear escape his lips. He must be close. You swear you can hear the slapping against his skin. All your blood rushes towards your clit. You want him - bad.

Out of no where, Joel stops. You hear a sound of frustration but remain curious. Was he edging himself? Shit. Why is that even hotter? you think to yourself. His moans slowly start again. Your mouth hangs open as you tighten your knees together. The friction feels good but it’s definitely not enough. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would be muttering your name as your hand strokes his dick. You wish his big hands could hold your head down as you take all of him in your mouth.

Almost as though you two were connected, Joel’s moans started to repeat more and more. His breathing heavies as your knees tighten harsher and harsher against themselves. Your clit now pulsating, desperate for stimulation. You cover your mouth, hoping your own gasping breaths were not loud enough to hear in the other room.

His voice strains as he gets closer and closer. He mumbles again, “Yes, Rita.” Shit, why aren’t you already in there? Your entire body is on fire but, oh, so nervous. You hear his skin slapping against each other. His moans growing louder. You hear a bump against the wall. His voice begins to break. God, he’s so fucking close.

“Oh baby just like that,” Joel whines. “Cum for me,” you whisper on repeat. Then silence fills the air. You worry if he might have heard you. You’re sure that him catching you listening in is so much worse than you catching him jacking off. “Damn it,” he yells softly with a grunt. That’s when you realize he isn’t edging on purpose. It seems like he can’t get past that final push. To release all that pent up energy.

You could help him. You know you want to. It’s the right thing to do. He must be in so much pain - all swollen down there, thinking about you. You would be helping him. You are so selfless. With a deep breath for courage, you quickly knock and open the door.

You spot Joel in his jean shirt. His legs are spread wide while he sits, bare, on the couch. His pants wrapped around his ankles as he holds his lengthy cock in one hand. His head rests back onto his other. As he hears the door creak open, he nervously grabs hold of a pillow and covers himself. You have never once seen shock and worry on the man’s face until now.

“Shit,” he yells as he scrambles to cover himself. You play dumb, covering your gaping mouth with your hand. “I’m so sorry Joel,” you whisper. “I-I thought I heard my name so I came out here,” you slyly taunt as you end with a smirk. Joel’s usual annoyed face returns as he realizes you know the truth. “Why didn’t you just come get me?” you ask innocently as you sit on the arm rest of his couch.

Joel watches you in confusion as he recognizes your advances. “I shouldn’t have done this, I’m-” he starts. You swiftly interrupt, “No need for apologies. I’m just confused is all.” You gracefully fall beside him. Your bare thigh touching his. The tips of your fingers dance atop his thigh. His grip onto the pillow covering his unit grows tighter by the second. “I thought you didn’t care about me,” you whisper as you lean closer to his face. You are now still, a few inches from his face.

"We don't have to do this," Joel mutters. His teeth locked as he watches you. He must think he's in danger. No, its quite the opposite. "Do what, Joel?" you ask as you pull away from him. You note a chair across from him. His backpack is sprawled over it. You carefully carry the backpack and place it closer to him. To show him that you are not something to be scared of. You then turn to sit in the chair. Your legs spread open as you bite your lip. Your eyes rake over the vulnerable man in front of you.

Joel watches you. He takes in shaky breaths. It is almost as though he is more nervous, now that he understands your intent. "Don't stop on my accord," you say as you gesture towards him. You slowly cross your leg over the other, batting him off with your eye lashes. You gently laugh as you watch him sit still, uncomfortable. "Oh, I get it," you murmur with a nod. "You need help." You watch your shoulder as you slowly push your spaghetti strap off it. You do the same with the other side. When you look back at him, a smirk is shown across your face.

His eyes are darker than normal. He still holds the pillow firmly against the skin between his legs. "Don't stop, Miller," you whisper as you slowly pull your shirt up. You expose your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples immediately harden. He involuntarily bites his lip as his eyes grow full of wonder. With that, he gradually pulls the cover off and shows his enormous cock. You start salivating. Fuck, you knew it would be big.

Joel's thumb starts to move slowly up and down his shaft. His eyes now fully on you. No pulling away this time. Pleasure fills your chest as you raise your chin and open your mouth. You lick your lips, hell-bent on tasting him. He starts to smile between soft moans. His rubbing becoming quicker as your hands calmly travel up your stomach and to your tits.

His breathing shakes harder as your fingers circle your nipples. Your tongue resting gently against your bottom lip. He loves it. His moans become louder as he watches you. "Oh baby," escapes his lips as he watches your sensual movements. "The name's y/n," you whisper. You smile at the shock spreading across his face. "I want to make sure you're moaning the right girl's name this time."

"Your name's y/n," Joel mutters under his breath. His movements stop as he watches you gradually open your legs. Your shorts clearly expose your inner thighs. It shows enough to give him the slightest sneak peek. "And your name is Joel," you coo. “Does that change anything?” He scoffs. A smile spreads across his face. First time you’ve seen it and shit is it beautiful. “Not a single thing,” he mutters. “Then rub one out for me, daddy,” you whisper as your hand travels down your stomach and atop your shorts.

Joel presses his tongue against his cheek as his smile grows larger. His hand starts to rub against his hardened cock. His fingers wrapped around his girth. You bite your lip. You wish it was your hand, but you are not giving up control. “Yeah, start slow,” you murmur as you adjust in your seat. His eyes track you. His eye line at your lips, waiting for the words to just flow out.

His breathing intensifies as he drops his jaw in excitement. “Ooo, just like that,” you whisper as you try to maintain deep breaths. Your clit begins to pulsate. Begging you to jump atop of him. “What next, y/n?” he asks with a gaping mouth. He fully enunciates your name with a smirk at the end. You laugh as your brows bounce. “Hm,” you think aloud. Your finger tapping against your chin. “Have your other hand play with your balls.”

Joel’s brow raises as he’s slightly taken aback. “Don’t make me say it twice,” you playfully seethe through your teeth. He sighs with a smile as his other hand moves from atop his thigh. He cups his balls slowly. A thumb rubbing between them. You suck in a deep breath as you adjust again in your sit. You can’t get comfortable. Your body screams that the only seat you want is on his lap.

His lower jaw keeps moving as deep breaths fall from his lips. “Shit,” he breathes. His eyes close ever so slightly. “Mmm’such a good boy,” you whisper. “Let me hear you.” He gasps as the muscles in his legs begin to tighten. He lets out a low moan. One so deep your entire body shakes. You let out a hesitant breath as your hand covers your mouth. You are trying so hard to keep in control, to be the dominant one - but shit did you want him to wreck your pussy so badly.

“I know you can moan louder than that,” you murmur with a grin. Joel softly laughs and quickens his movements. His breath is fast. His eyes closed. He sits up straighter. His hand slaps against his skin. You spot precum falling from his tip. “Shit,” you mumble under your breath. His head starts to fall back. It rests against the wall. He moves faster and faster. You squeeze your thighs together, holding your breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. You could just about faint. “God, you’re going to make me cum, y/n.” You dig your nails into your thighs. You want nothing more than to see this gorgeous man cum all over himself. “Cum for me, Joel,” you whisper in excitement. Your entire body feels on fire. Goosebumps travel throughout your skin. “I want your big cock deep inside me, Joel. Please cum for me,” you gripe in an innocent voice.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel moans as his brows pull together. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter than before. You hear his voice raise in pitch. Higher and higher as his body moves faster and faster. You note him thrusting into his own hand. He looks so strong. He would feel so good thrusting inside of you. Finally, his breathing fastens and he starts to moan louder than before.

“I’m cumming. I’m cumming, y/n,” he whisper yells as his body tenses up. You immediately rush in front of him. You sit on your knees as you watch the show, up close and personal. Beads of cum stream down his elongated cock as he strokes firmly. You place much effort in keeping your hands to your sides. You watch as his breaths begin to slow.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say breathless. His eyes start to open. He lets out a gentle laugh through his smiling face. You crawl between his legs. His smile quickly falling as he curiously watches you. There you sit, his softened unit before you. “Your turn to help me, Miller,” you say as you bite your lips. His smile re-emerges as his hand pushes your shoulder back towards the ground. His body slides over you until his face hovers above yours. “Yes, ma’am,” Joel whispers as he plants a kiss on your lips so hard, yet so soft, that you completely fall head over heels for the man.

note: whatcha think? joel screams sub and fuck do i love it. also episode 3?? can someone just cry with me about that real quick? shall there be a part two? 🤫

*edit: there shall be & here it is

taglist: @fan-fiction-floozy, @dirtydianaahah

reblogs are much appreciated! feel free to comment or message if you’d like to join a tag list! 🌿✨🌿

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

FUCKING HELL THIS IS PERFECTION DEFFO DESERVES MORE RECOGNITION WHAT

Heaven is Here (Joel Miller x reader x Tess Servopoulos)

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: Joel and Tess wreck you completely.

TW: smut with no plot, overstimulation, p in v, sub!reader, feral Tess, dom!tess, dom!joel, unprotected sex, oral receiving (female), light choking, teasing, fingering, edging, consent, nicknames, praise kink, cream pie, cum eating. Whole lotta smut (18+) MINORS DNI, this is literally just porn.

Your moans are bouncing off of the concrete walls as Tess hooks her fingers into your cunt, working you open as Joel’s rough fingertips rub tight, little circles on your clit. You bite your lip harshly to contain the filthy groans, but it doesn’t help keep them at bay.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel whispers into the shell of your ear, “what have we told you about holding back?” You can barely speak, the pleasure making your thoughts go fuzzy. He slaps your pussy, and brings his hand to your jaw, forcing you to look at him helplessly. 

You are brought back to earth as Tess retracts from your pussy —making you let out a frustrated whine— and slaps the inside of your thigh, “You better answer, brat. Or else this stops now.” She warns.

“Oh. Oh, god, no.” You blabber, “I’ll be good, promise!” You thank your lucky stars that they are feeling forgiving tonight.

“You think you can cum with just Tess’ fingers?” Joel grunts in your ear, as you slide your palm over his clothed erection. You nod. Tess smirks, wasting no time, going back between your opened legs, and pressing a rough kiss to your puffy center, before giving your clit a harsh suck, making you toss your head back on Joel’s shoulder.

She continues to suck, making your toes curl, as she adds her skilled fingers back into the equation. “Oh. Oh FUCK!” You hiss through clenched teeth as she presses her fingers into your heat, making your eyes roll back. “Please. Please, Oh god.” Tears stream down your cheeks making them almost as wet as your pussy. Joel brings his tongue to your tears, licking the salty substance right off your skin.

You were so close you could taste it. They must have known too from the way your back arched, your thighs began to shut the longer Tess continued. Your pussy clamped down on her digits, making her chuckle against you. And just like that, they both stop. You let out a sob, reaching out with your hands to find purchase on either one of them. “No! Please, I’ll be good,” you pout.

“Oh sweetheart,” Tess says while standing, “I know you’ll be good, you’re always so good for us.” Her coos fall on deaf ears, you can’t focus on anything that is being said due to the consistent pounding of the heartbeat in your clit. “I’ve had enough fun, preparing you. Do you think your ready to  take Joel?” She almost laughs at the way your eyes are glossed over, and your mouth parts so you can suck in a ragged breath. “Switch with me, handsome.” She directs Joel, who immediately follows her orders with a grin.

Joel goes to the foot of the bed, where your legs dangle, and he kneels before you in all your glory. His pupils widen at the sight of you, so wet, practically dripping off the comforter and onto the floor. Tess lies next to you, putting her arm behind your neck to prop your up, as she trailed her fingertips down your torso with feather-like touches, awakening every nerve in your body. 

“Fuck, Tess.” Joel lets out a breathy groan, as he parts your lips with his hands, “god, look at you. So messy, and ready for me to split you open, huh.” You gulp, and let out a whine when he starts where Tess left off.

He eats you out like a starved man, tongue lapping at your entrance, then sucking on your bud. He tosses your legs over his shoulder, and hooks his arms under your thighs to keep himself as close to your pussy as humanly possible. 

Alternatively, Tess is speaking filthy thoughts into your ears, praising you for how good you are being, “Fuck, you look so pretty all fucked out. Look at our girl, Joel, isn’t she being so very good.”

Your thighs are tightening around Joel’s head the more he sucks at your clit. He releases you with a pop, and you let out an embarrassing noise from the back of your throat, “So pretty. So good.” He touches your slit gently, as if you’d fall apart right then and there (though with how worked up Joel and Tess have gotten you, you very well could have.) 

Without warning, two fingers breach your entrance, and curl upwards in the most delicious manner. The breath gets knocked out of your lungs and you claw at Tess’s arm, scrambling for something, hell anything, to hold onto. One of her hands smacks your hip, the other finding your throat and giving it a squeeze, “Did I say you could touch?” She asks with a hiss.

You find it almost impossible to answer her when Joel hits the spot that has you almost screaming his name. “Oh, there it is.” You can feel his smirk as he continues to abuse it, making you leak onto the blanket below you. 

“Stop.” Tess said suddenly. You wail as Joel abandons you. With a grin, leaving you once again without cumming. You’re a blubbering mess, and the only thing you want is to cum, but they seem hell bent on prolonging this. 

“Please.” You beg, your voice scratchy and raw with emotion. “Please, Tess.”

She slaps your tit, then pinches your nipple so hard you feel your hole clench around nothing but air. “Please, what?”

“Mommy, please. Daddy, I can’t please…” you’re full on crying at this point, sobbing into Tess’s neck. You feel Joel’s hand stroking the skin of your cheek, making you lift your eyes to his.

“Do you need to use your safe word?” He asks, ever the gentleman. He usually was the one who checked in on you, where as Tess would torture you for hours without a single word, just burying herself into your pussy.

“If she wanted to use it, she would have already said it,” she grunts out as her fingers trail downwards to your sensitive pearl, rubbing the slick through your folds messily, making you practically keen from the attention. She stops quickly though when you buck your hips trying to chase a high you were not getting. 

She lifts her fingers to her lips and you watch in fascination as she sucks them into her mouth, groaning at your taste. She then moves slightly grabbing Joel by the collar of his t-shirt, and pulling him up to taste you on her lips. The sound you let out is probably the most pathetic thing they have ever heard, but it doesn’t stop them from making out messily in front of you. 

You bring your own fingers to your pussy, and try to create some friction  to release some of the pressure, but they quickly catch on, and Joel reaches down to stop you completely. He backs away from Tess’s face, and makes a ‘tsk sound at your behavior. “I thought you were a good girl?” He asks.

You cast her a glare, eyebrows furrowing in dissatisfaction as you huff like a spoiled child. You had really hoped you would get away with it, but the look on both their faces told you that not only were you unsuccessful, but also in a shit load of trouble. “I- I didn’t think…”

“That’s right,” Tess growls lowly in your ear as her hand returns to your throat giving it a harsh squeeze, “You weren’t thinking with that dumb little brain of yours.” She berates as you let out a whimper.

“I don’t know Tess, do you think our whore deserves to have cock?” Joel’s fingers ghost the inside of your thighs making you buck into his touch.

“Oh she deserves cock alright,” Tess begins, and you could almost cry at the mere thought of being stretched, “I actually think she deserves both of us tonight, but only if she behaves and stops acting like a depraved. Little. Slut.” She slaps your tits, punctuating each word, then brings her lips down to suck on your nipple. “But I’m not sure she deserves to cum, what do you think?” You let out a cry at the threat. Joel just shrugs with a smirk. She releases you and brings her face so close to your own that you can taste the faint mint toothpaste on her breath. “Now. You are going to be a good whore, and go get the strap, am I understood?”

           You aren’t sure how she managed to acquire a sex toy in this apocalyptic world, but you definitely weren’t about to complain. 

You’re so lost in your own headspace that it takes you a minute to register the words coming from her mouth. She smacks your thigh, “am I understood.” She repeats. You nod, and shakily move from the protection of her arms to the end of the bed, before pushing yourself off the mattress, and going to retrieve the silicone toy.

“Did I tell you to walk?” She grits out. You turn your head to her. “Crawl,” She demands. Your breath hitches as you grow impossibly wet from just her commands. You slowly sink to your knees, the tattered grey carpet making your skin burn with each slow movement, as you tried not to upset them with your actions. 

“Wow,” Joel’s voice hits your ears, “have you ever seen such a sight.” He lets out a low catcall. 

“I know. Look, she’s dripping onto the floor, Joel. Must be pretty desperate for our cocks, huh baby?” They speak about you in a degrading manner, like you aren’t even there which elicits a whimper that escapes your lips. You want to crawl faster, hoping that if you returned quicker, then maybe they’ll stuff you full of them. 

“Slower.” Joel’s baritone hits your ears making you frown, but you slow down nonetheless. You crawled at a snail’s pace, and your knees were aching with every step. You stopped in front of the closet, where she kept it tucked away in her drawers. 

Your breath comes out slowly as you try to calm your unsteady heartbeat. You open the drawer, and bring your hand to the bottom, feeling around for the fake cock. Your fingers find the rough fabric of the strap first, lifting it out from under Tess’s t-shirts. You look back to them, as if waiting for further instructions. 

A smile ghosts Tess’s lips at your compliance, “Thats our good girl, come here.” She points to the edge of the bed, and your body is practically vibrating with want at this point. You slowly turn and crawl back to them. Joel reaches out first, large palm meeting the skin of your cheek in a gentle gesture. 

You practically purr at the contact, you lift from the floor and crawl back into the bed. You sit back on your heals, looking up at them through your eyelashes, anxiously awaiting their next command. “Where do you want me?” Joel asks aloud, but not to you. Tess’s lips twitch.

“I think I want to absolutely wreck that pretty little ass tonight,” you let out another groan at the thought. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun!” Joel quips cheekily. You stare up at him, your pupils dilate and a blush adorns your cheeks, spreading down your neck at their words. 

“I don’t know, Joel,” Tess looks over you as if you were not there, her eyes met his with a wild look, “do you think our slutty baby deserves this?” She teases. A high pitched whine makes its way out of your mouth, and they both turn to you. Tess’s lip curls up in warning with a slight growl and you audibly gulp. 

“Please.” You say softly, tears brimming your lash line, “Please, need you both. Please…” You continue to beg. At this point you would have done anything they asked, so long as you were aloud to cum. The warmth in between your thighs was beginning to hurt, and you longed for the release. 

Tess grabs you by the throat, and pulls your face to hers. The kiss was not sweet, or gentle in any way. It was a kiss filled filled with violence, like she’d only be satiated if she drew blood from your lips. Your teeth gnash together, and soon her tongue licks into your mouth. You let out a groan as Joel lowers his hand, smoothing it over the skin of your belly before reaching further south. 

“Oh, Sweetheart.” Joel lets out a noise of satisfaction at the wetness that gathered on his fingertips, “you are fuckin’ soaked, poor thing!” He mocks before bringing his hand up, then slapping it down on your sensitive clit. 

You let out a strangled sound from the back of your throat, as he repeated the action. You felt a tear escape, sliding down your cheek as he continued his assault. 

Tess pulls away from you and you want to groan at the loss of contact. “You think she’s ready?”

“I know she is.” He says as the pads of his fingers slide through your slick cunt. 

She pulls him up by his arm, positioning him against the headboard. Your body felt overheated, and your pussy clenches at the sight of him. He is propped up, pillows behind his back. Your eyes wander down his toned torso, and reach the happy trail that leads down to his clothed cock. He lost his jeans at some point, you aren’t entirely sure when that happened but you welcomed it nonetheless. 

You wanted to bring your mouth to the patch of precum on his underwear, but refrained, to afraid to move without their consent. His large hands go to his bulge, adjusting himself, letting out a low groan at the contact.

You are brought out of your thoughts by the sound of a slap ringing in the air. It took you a second to register the pain, but when you did, your head snapped to Tess’s direction. 

“Ready, Doll?” You nod, unable to form a proper sentence. “Go sit.” 

She gave your butt a little love tap, and you immediately scramble for Joel’s lap. Your thighs bracketed his hips and the roughness of his hands met the soft skin of your waist forcing you down.

You let out a breathy “Fuck” as you grind on him. The fabric was rubbing quite deliciously on your clit, and the moan that left your lips was positively pornographic. 

“Need,” you babbled, “Need you, please!” You almost sob.

Tess brings her hand to your hair, gripping it in a fist, and pulling your head back, “Need what, Baby?” She mutters gruffly in your ear as she starts sucking on your neck, marking you. 

“Joel, need you to fuck me. Please —Oh FUCK!—“ you shout as his covered cock rubs against you just right. “Please, need you, oh god!” You are burning with need, the pit of your stomach feels like molten lava. 

“Tess,” he groans out, wrapping his arms around your middle, holding you still. “Come on, she’s been good.” He seemed to want this just as much as you, if not more. He puts his face to your tits and suckles on the skin, nipping at it before pulling away. 

You want so badly to grind down on him, but his arms kept you securely in his hold. “Alright, alright, brat.” Tess mutters into your skin. 

He relaxes his grip momentarily to push you back slightly so he can pull his cock from his boxers. You practically salivate at the sight. You’ve seen him before, felt him, but his size never failed to make you nervous. His hands return to your hips as he pulls you flush against his chest. You feel Tess behind you, one hand spreading the slick on your pussy, and the other stroking and aligning him to your entrance. 

His cock-head latches, and all thoughts leave your brain as he guides you down onto his hardness. He grunts roughly as he enters you, slowly his resolve is dissipating, and he has to fight the urge to fuck up into you.Your eyes screw shut, and your brows draw together at the intrusion. 

You feel so full, and you’re so close to loosing your fucking mind that the only thing you can do is whine, and press your face into his neck. When you’re seated fully, he lets out the filthiest —fuck!— you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. 

He gives you a couple of seconds before he lifts you, and pulls you back down on him roughly. The cry that leaves your lips is pitiful. He repeats his actions a couple of times before digging his heels into the mattress, and bucks up into you. The squelch of your pussy makes your cheeks burn with shame, and you bite into his shoulder to keep yourself quiet. 

You aren’t sure when Tess began to run her nails over the skin of your back, down to the curve of your ass, to the tight ring of muscle above your dripping cunt, but you welcome it with a soft whine. Her fingers are slick with spit as she opens you up. You hear yourself yelp as she enters, Joel groans loudly as you clench around him harshly. “Fuck!” He grips your hips to stop your movement, afraid that he would cum if you kept it up.

“Wish you could feel her, Tess. Fuckin’ strangling me.” You let out another whine at his words, and felt yourself leak onto the sheets below. Tess continued to finger you, and get you ready for her cock. Your pussy was pulsating, the heartbeat in your clit was starting to sting from overstimulation. 

It wasn’t long before one finger became two, she crooked them, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. “You should move, Cowboy. I don’t know if she can handle much more…” she teased. 

“N-no!” You stuttered out, “I can take it, I can take more, please. I want more!” You moaned like a wanton whore as you felt the drag of his cock, the heat licked deliciously in your womb, and you knew you didn’t have much longer. 

“You heard her, Tess.” He says with a grunt as the head of his dick punches the air from your lungs. Her fingers left you, and your fist hits the headboard  in frustration. 

“You think you can take us? Huh, pretty girl?” You’re nodding furiously, begging like a bitch in heat. “Words, love, words.”

“I can take it. Need you, both of you, wanna feel full, please…” you hardly hear the words escaping your mouth, but they come out in a rush. She pulls your head back by your hair, and kisses your cheek as she grinds her cock head against your ass, putting the tip in slowly before pulling out, and repeating. 

“Please, Tess; need you, please.”

“You are so goddamn beautiful when you beg, Sweetheart.” Your head hangs as you watch Joel piston in-and-out of you. you practically melt  into her front, as Joel brings his mouth to your chest, sucking harshly on the skin, leaving a wake of love bites. 

When she enters you slowly, you throw your head back, and your face contorts into a silent scream. Inch after inch, it felt never ending, she removes her grip on your hair, and moves it to your throat, holding you so close you could feel her bare tits drag on your back with every movement. Joel takes ahold of your hips and slams you down with a grunt, showing no mercy. At the same time, she bottoms out, groaning into your neck, then peppering it with kisses.

You can feel it, the warmth licking your insides, the fire building. Your vision blurs with unshed tears, and there is a loud buzzing noise. Your brain is straight mush at the hands of your lovers. You whine loudly when the tip of his dick hits a part of you that makes you wail. Your nails imprint in his skin, causing him to hiss. 

Tess has her hand on your lower back, pushing in-and-out of your ass. She whispers nothing but filth to you, quickening her pace. You feel that familiar heat reinstate itself in your belly, you bury your face in Joels chest, biting into him. You were pretty sure he would let you cut him open, and tear out his heart with your teeth if you asked politely. He keeps slamming into the sensitive part of your cunt, and Tess is hitting something quite similar, the only thing separating her and Joel was a thin wall. 

Before you knew it, she pulls out; you let out the most heartbreaking cry at the loss, until she lined herself up with your drooling pussy, entering gently. Joel stops completely, groaning into your hair at the pressure. You had never felt so full in your life. You are completely speechless, there are no words to describe the pleasure that burns in your core. You are on the fuckin’ precipice, so close you can fucking taste it. 

You aren’t sure when it happens, but you cum with a scream. You’re leaking down your thighs, onto both of them. Tess in in your ear, muttering sweet nothings, telling you how good you are. Joel fucks up into you, and you almost beg for him to stop. 

He’s close. You know by the way all of his muscles are tense and the steady rhythm of his hips were beginning to falter. One. Two. Three more pumps of his cock, and he cums in you, clenching his teeth so hard that you thought they might break. You let out a strangled noise as you feel him fill you. He stills completely, Tess rocks into you, stuffing the mess back into you, before leaving your body.

Your core clenches uncomfortably, as Joel removes himself from you. Tess picks you up off of his chest, and lays you next to him. Your head rests on Joel’s shoulder and he pulls you flush against him. You are still trying to catch your breath, eyes closed, limp from all the action. 

You don’t even hear her move. She rests on her stomach, pulling your shaking legs over her shoulders. She blows onto your cunt, and a shiver runs rampant through your body. She presses feather-light kisses to your abused sensitive bud before wrapping her lips around it. 

You arch off the bed, trying to push yourself away from her, but she traps you, hands pressing down on your lower stomach, keeping you still. You scramble to find something to hold onto, frantically finding yourself gripping onto Joel’s thigh. Your brain searched for an escape, as you try to find some way to get her off of you. You try to sit up, only to realize that Joel has encased you in his arms, holding you down just as much as Tess was. 

“Please,” your sobs echo, bouncing off the walls, and sounding foreign, even to you. “Please, Tess. I-I can’t do this, I can’t.” You babble mindlessly.

She releases you with a pop, and lifts her head to look into your half-lidded eyes. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’re doing so good!” She praises, and you feel the arousal stirring in your stomach. “I think you can handle one more, Don’t you, Joel?” She keeps her eyes on yours, and you hear Joel grunt in agreement, still trying to come down from his own high. 

“I can’t. I can’t, please Tess.” Tears stream down your face, to your neck. You aren’t even sure what you’re saying, all you know is you need to get the fuck away from her.

“Tess.” Joel warns softly, then looks down to you as his grip lessens, “Do you need to use your safe word?” He checks in again. You contemplate saying yes, but you see the wild look in Tess’s eyes. You think she’d live with her lips attached to you if she could. You look back to Joel, who stares at you, question still lingering in the silence. Your eyes return to hers and nod, too afraid to disappoint them. 

The filthiest smirk adorns her features, and she looks positively feral as she buries herself in your cunt, lapping languidly at your arousal as it mixed with his. You hear Joel groan at the mere sight of it. 

You can’t think, you can’t speak, you sit there helplessly, digging your fingernails into Joel’s arm like its the one thing grounding you to reality. Your back arches as her fingertips bruise your hips, as she resumes sucking on your clit. 

You thought you were overstimulated before, you were practically on fire at this point. Your entire body is shaking, tears are flowing freely down your face, and you actually have to bite Joel’s hand to suppress the growl that threatens to leave your lips. You didn’t know if you were crying from the exhaustion, or the unprecedented warmth that made you feel like you might pass out. She flattens her tongue on you, and the pressure it too much, and not enough at the same time. Sobs wrack your body as you push your hips up to meet her. All it takes is a couple more licks, then she sucks your nub harshly, and the scream that tears through you is sure to get you guys a noise complaint. You writhe against her mouth, and begin to kick her with your feet, silently begging for her to back off. 

Before she releases you, Joel reaches down, and grips her up by her ponytail, pulling her to him and kissing her to taste you and himself on her tongue. 

Your body was completely boneless, as your mind swims with pleasure, and tiredness. You can’t move. You don’t even register Joel’s voice, “Think we broke her, Tess.” He chuckles as he plants a soft kiss to your cheek. You look to him, eyes glossed over, and barely open. 

You aren’t sure when Tess leaves the comfort of the bed, but she comes back with a warm cloth in her hands. “Do you think you can stand?” She asks.

You physically can’t make words come out of you. She rubs the rough rag on your face, sliding from your forehead, down the slope of your nose. She wipes over the dried tears, and down your neck, before scrubbing over your chest, where several love bites were blooming rapidly. The rag, which was beginning to cool, went down your stomach and then over your legs. You let out a sharp hiss at the contact, Joel’s hands tightening on your shoulders, holding you still. 

“You were so good for us, Sweetheart.” She whispers gently to you as she wipes the mess between your thighs. You can feel the bruises they left on your skin, the soreness was beginning to settle after an unbelievable high. 

“So good.” Joel kisses your forehead, as they both praise you. 

You want to tell them that you’re okay —or as well as you can be after all the edging and the three orgasms that were ripped from your body— you want to tell them how much you enjoyed it, how you enjoyed them, but you were completely fucked out. Your brain was not working at all, and words were lost on your lips. 

Tess throws the rag somewhere on the floor, and Joel turns you onto your side, pressing himself to your ass, as Tess throws her leg over yours and wraps an arm around your middle, effectively sandwiching you between the warmth of their bodies. 

They trace patterns over your skin, and Joel presses a loving kiss to your shoulder. Your eyes close in a matter of seconds, and you drift off in a dreamless sleep. Tess gives you one last peck on your plush lips, and then closes her eyes. Joel smiles like a lovesick idiot, and buries his face into your back before darkness overtakes him.

holy fuck

tan x reader heavy heavy smut maybe pwp 🤷🏻‍♀️

theyre on a stake out in a hotel room and she's about to go out to do something and she's wearing a really sexy outfit and he gets turned on and yeah

PLSSS 🙏🙏🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Yeah totally! I’m going through a very rough dry spell rn so I can basically only work in requests!! So keep sending them in. So sorry it took this long!!

Request also for the other characters I write for! Don’t hesitate!

Seduction

Pairing: fem!reader x Tangerine.

Synopsis: You’re about to go out and do your job and gather information when your boyfriend stops you from going out, too turned on for you to leave.

Warning: smut.

The hotel room was dark, only lit by the caresses of the moonlight slipping through the large windows. You were in the bathroom, naked, applying some makeup on your already beautiful face. Your eyes were wide, the mascara wand twirling on your eyelashes. The dress you were supposed to wear was hanging on the door, waiting. You had to go seduce an important politician, getting some information out of him. The plan was that you’d bring the him up to your room, and Tangerine would be waiting in the wardrobe, jumping out, and would press a gun to the man’s forehead.

You placed the mascara wand down, glancing at yourself in the glimmering mirror. You puckered your lips, adding a coat of red lipsticks to finish the look. You turned to your dress, slipping it off the hanger easily. It was black, tight, and had a thigh slight, which was dangerously close to revealing your crotch area, making it impossible to wear any type of panties with this type of dress. The dress was also too tight to wear any bras either, so you just slipped the flimsily piece of expensive cloth on, adjusting your hair before stepping out of the bathroom, leaving a haze of perfume behind you.

“Alright, all ready.” You chirped, walking to your suitcase, grabbing your heels from the plastic bag you had wrapped them in. Tangerine was sitting down on the bed, his muscular thighs spread in his blue dress pants. His long, tattooed fingers were holding a paperback delicately in his hands, the rings glinting in the sunset.

The minute your lilting voice reached his ears, he looked up from the pages, tearing himself away from the world in his head. His eyes widened when they landed on your figure, standing at the foot of his bed. You didn’t notice, busy checking your phone, newly acquired heels dangling in your hand.

“You look gorgeous, love.” You heard him say, his British accent familiar to your ears. “It’s taking all my self control not to come there and rip it off,” he whispered, standing up and gliding towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You grinned, placing a hand on his thigh. “I know, baby. But after we get rid of the man, you can do anything to me.” You whispered, standing up, and gently grazing his ear with your red lips. He shivered, closing his eyes, and plopping back down where you had been a second before. You walked to the chair in front of him, aware Tangerine’s eyes were glued to your ass as you swayed past him. You didn’t mind, your heart fluttering.

You grabbed your heels, starting to slip them on. To aid yourself in putting on the torture traps fashion called shoes, you spread your legs, lifting them to close the clasp that danced mockingly around your ankles. The already short hem of the dress had slid down against your waist, revealing your bare center to Tangerine.

The moment he realized what he was looking at, all the thoughts he had in his mind vanished, the blood rushing to his cock, hardening it in his dress pants, leaving little to the imagination. The idea that you were going out to seduce another man before Tangerine himself, your boyfriend, could get a taste of you, was making him furious. His skin started to become warm, and his breaths became shallow. Tangerine threw the book on the bed, hearing it bounce a few inches away. He stood up, licking his lips and adjusting his vest, walking towards you.

You barely took notice, too concentrated on your shoe clasp, which wouldn’t close, slipping through your fingers like water. It was infuriating. Just as you were about to close it, making you finally ready to go, Tangerine lifted your leg, throwing it over his shoulder as he kneeled in front of you. The clasp jolted away, and the shoe almost slipped off. “Tangerine? What are you doing-”, your sentence was stopped when you felt the familiar sensation of your boyfriend’s mouth against your core, his tongue darting inside of you.

You hadn’t been aroused before, but the sudden entrance of his skillful tongue made you moan out loud, throwing your head back against the wall, his mustache grazing your sensitive skin. Tangerine lifted your other leg, gripping your thighs, eating you out like a madman. Your arousal soon started coursing through your body, your nipples hardening, as well as your clit peeking out between the folds. “Tan…what-what are you doing I need to go,” you stammered in between moans, grinding against his tongue, your hand tightening around the arm rest.

“You’re not going out of here until my cum is dripping down your leg.”Tangerine murmured against your lower lips, the vibration making you see stars twinkling in your vision. “You look so fucking sexy tonight, love. I can’t let you go out like that. Your mine, and I want that bloody politician to fucking know,” he hissed, his long fingers replacing his mouth as he talked, not wanting to leave you high and dry.

You barely heard him, the pleasure starting to wash over you like a tsunami. Your stomach started to coil, tightening in all the right places, making you clench tightly around his long fingers. Tangerine had made you scream and arch your back as you orgasmed so many times he could tell you were close, a proud glint dancing in his eyes. To give you the extra push you needed, he dived back in, adding his tongue to his dancing fingers. You had started wiggling so much, your heels had clattered to the floor, leaving a dent in the moquette, and the thin shoulder straps of the your dress tumbled down your arms, revealing your quivering breasts.

Tangerine reached one ringed hand to grope them, waiting for you to tip over the edge. He could tell by the way your tongue slipped out of your mouth, and your unsteady breath pattern that you were about to orgasm. You looked gorgeous, just as you always did, but pride roared in his chest, knowing he was the only one that make you look like this.

The pleasure was starting to cloud your vision, and your hand blindly tried gripping onto the wall, before you decided to drop it down into Tangerine’s curls, tugging. He grunted quietly, a wet patch starting to form on his pants. “Tan! Tan! I’m…coming,” you panted. Tangerine spread your legs, pressing your clit with his index finger. The coolness of his rings contrasted with the heat of your sweating skin.

“Let go,” he whispered, and not even a second later, your juices gushed out of you, coating his mustache. He licked his lips, tasting you. Tangerine stood up, letting you relax for a second, deciding to observe you instead. Your hair was messy, your makeup ruined; the mascara ran down your cheeks like black tears, and your lipstick was long gone. Your breasts were exposed, the nipples hardened. Your legs were spread as much as they possibly could, hanging over the armrests of the chair, giving him a perfect view of your swollen, leaking center, which still now trickled droplets of your arousal on the soaked leather of the chair. He grinned proudly, knowing he was the only one allowed on this earth to watch you come undone as prettily as you did. He had seen you like this so many times, and yet, he could never get enough.

Without hesitating, Tangerine unbuckled his belt. The soft sound echoed in the room. He quickly kicked off his dress pants, his boxers flying away with them. He unbuttoned his shirt and vest, his fingers were quick, missing a few buttons. He grunted in frustration, ripping his shirt open, the unopened buttons flying to the floor. You stared at him, unable to move, eyes focused on his abs. His cock sprang out, already hard. Your pussy clenched around nothing, aching to feel him.

Tangerine leaned down, aligning himself with your hips, before slipping inside you, bottoming out in one swift thrust. You cried his name out in pleasure, tears of pure satisfaction mingling with your mascara. “Your mine,” Tangerine whispered in your ear, nibbling on your sensitive lobe.

The words were a caress to your lust-ridden mind, and you nodded urgently, grinding your hips against his. “Always! Forever!” You cried, leaning down to lock your lips together.

The kiss was passionate, furious, sloppy. His lips were swollen, and you could taste yourself on them. Saliva started dripping out, a few droplets coating your breasts. His tongue was shoved down your throat, while yours was caressing his mouth. He stopped moving his hips for a second, wanting to enjoy the kiss. Tangerine’s large hands grasped the swell of your hips, your smaller ones were holding the nape of his neck, your thumb rubbing large circles on his skin.

Desperate for more, Tangerine tried getting closer to you, even though it was physically impossible. He thrusted deeper inside you, hitting your g spot. The pleasure made you moan in your boyfriend’s mouth, detaching your lips. A string of saliva connected the two of you. Tangerine smirked, his hair disheveled, his eyes blown wide with lust.

He held you tighter on the hips, starting to thrust in and out of you quickly, the chair shaking underneath you. You threw your head back, and Tangerine took the opportunity to pepper kisses on your neck, inhaling your sweet perfume. He loved it, and it made his cock twitch inside you.

You whimpered quietly, hand traveling down in between your bodies, pressing your swollen clit. Tangerine’s forehead was beaded with sweat, his hair sticking to it. He quickly shooed your hand away from your core, replacing it with one of his large thumbs, pressing down on your swollen bud of nerves.

You screamed, literally screamed, hands gliding down his back, leaving red, angry marks. “Yes, make it loud and clear for everyone in this fucking hotel that your screams are only for me,” Tangerine groaned, feeling that his own climax was caressing his back, approaching swiftly. “You close, babygirl?” He croaked, holding your flushed skin against his, feeling your breasts bouncing against his chest.

You nodded, not even trusting yourself to respond. Tangerine thought you would need a few more thrusts to get there, but the next time he sunk deep inside you, without warning, you wrapped around him tightly, clenching around his cock, screaming his name and orgasmed. It had been so sudden, Tangerine felt his orgasm be yanked out of him, and he fell against your neck, whimpering your name like a prayer, as he started pumping his seed deep inside you.

You inhaled deeply, encouraging him to finish, caressing his back, feeling the ridges your nails had created. After a few moments, Tangerine was spent, and went flaccid inside you, yet he didn’t pull out, looking up to gaze at you, caressing your make up-smudged cheek. “My gorgeous (Y/N).”

The words elicited a quiet laugh from your swollen lips. “Please, I look like I’ve been run over by six cars.”

Tangerine chuckled, shaking his head. “No, it looks like you were fucked good, which you were.” You slapped his chest, laughing.

The two of you basked in the sex afterglow for a few more seconds, before you needed to go get ready all over again. You couldn’t even walk properly and needed Tangerine to help you reach the bathroom which was literally five steps away.

•

After another thirty minutes, you looked just as you had before. You sprayed perfume on yourself again, glancing at the mirror. “How do I look?” You asked, turning to face Tangerine, who was sitting on the toilet, cleaning his gun, only wearing his pants. He smirked appreciatively, placing the weapon on the sink, and slapping your ass.

“You look so fucking sexy, my love,” he leaned down to kiss you, but you pressed a finger to his lips.

“Nope! No! If you kiss me, we’re fucking all over again.” You grabbed the purse from the floor, opening the bathroom door. “I’m going, Tan. I’ll text you when we’re coming back.”

Tangerine smiled at you, sending you a flying kiss. You sent one back, heading out the door and into the hallway. Tangerine leaned against he doorframe, watching you walk away. As he let his eyes glide to your ass, and to your legs, he noticed one, single bead of his cum sliding down the back of your exposed thighs. Tangerine grinned, licking his lips.

Oh, this would be a fun night.

keep your eyes on me

joel miller x f!reader

warnings: ANGST, stab wound, mentions of violence and blood, lots of violence actually, protective!joel, reader being moody and angsty, some gore (wound details), inaccurate stuff probably (definitely), inconsistencies for sure

word count: 6.63k UNEDITED

here’s the full version of ‘keep your eyes on me.’ i apologize in advance for the reader’s moody and angsty monologue in the intro and all that follows after. prepare the tissues?

The mission was simple.

A quick in and out, a regular check for supplies in one of the surrounding buildings of the QZ and that was it. Nothing you hadn’t done countless times already, even before Joel entered your life, and it was relatively easy.

The hardest part was sneaking past the supervised borders and even that had been figured out when you started paying one of the guards to turn a blind eye whenever you went out for a run.

It just so happened that this run had to occur in the smack-dab middle of a feud you’d found yourself in simply because you associated yourself with Joel Miller and Tess Servopoulos. 

It didn’t help that Joel, in particular, rarely associated himself with anyone at all. Perhaps that’s what made you a prime target in his dispute with his former partner Robert Navarro. 

Because Joel went out of his way to join your side more often than either of you cared to admit, it made sense that, in turn, Robert’s fury would extend to you. 

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im so dead oewudqwbdqw THIS IS ADORABLE

miss jade your bodyguard!james example hit me right in the chest.. can I get candy apples and do you wanna dance? with a bodyguard!james au?? Where you’re dying for a sleepover with your girlfriends but he’s gotta sit in there with you and he totally gets into it gossiping and painting nails and doing face masks and making friendship bracelets? I yearn for big buff scary babygirl James and his shy little charge :’)) - happy Halloween !!!!!!! 🧡🖤

join luveline's halloween party ♡

mei my angel my literal everything best idea ever and I had to include what we talked about too, tysm for ur request baby happy halloween ♡ bodyguard!james x shy!fem!reader (also tipsy!reader)

You really hadn't wanted to bring it up but at the same time, you'd felt like you had to. James had assured you to do whatever it is that's going to make you most comfortable, even if what makes you most comfortable is actually making your new friends most comfortable.

"He... He has to come, but James doesn't mind sitting in the adjoining room. I'm sorry," you'd said.

Mindy, a friend you'd miraculously managed to make at the supermarket of all places, had given your bodyguard a once over with a huge smile. "Are you kidding? He's welcome to sit wherever he likes. He's very welcome."

You'd felt a flicker of something. Not jealousy. A general wash of embarrassment at the implication that James is, rightfully, eye-candy.

"Are you wearing aftershave?" you ask now, not a question you would usually have the courage to ask. You're shocked.

"Cologne, actually," James says.

You gawp at him.

James looks both lovely and ridiculous. He's bedecked in smart clothes, his casual civilian clothing, and it's enough to make your heart skip a beat. Tight sleeves, tight pants. He's a classic handsome on a bad day. Tonight, he's breathtaking.

Especially carrying your pink backpack.

You like how much he doesn't care about stuff like this. Your backpack thrown over his shoulder, your coat in the crook of his elbow. None of it is his job, the only thing he really has to do is stop you from getting maimed or killed, but he does it anyways.

"It's nice," you say awkwardly. What you'd wanted to say was worse. Are you wearing cologne to impress Mindy?

His smile is horrifyingly smug. "Thank you, princess. Think you should knock again?"

You knock again, your hand barely pulled from the door when it swings open.

"Hi," Mindy says, smiling as soon as she sees you.

It's such a nice thing, for your presence to make somebody smile like that, and you find yourself smiling back without any of your usual shyness.

"And hello," she adds, sizing James up with a light-hearted expression of dizziness. "Did you get more handsome, Mr. Bodyguard?"

James hand touches between your shoulders. "Maybe slightly."

Mindy laughs gleefully. "Maybe so. Please, come in. We were waiting on your before we start Dirty Dancing."

You beam. Mindy shows you and James into the living room of her home where the rest of your new friends wait. They're all just as excited to see you as you are to see them, greeting you with hugs and smiles. They say hello to James too, which is really nice. James doesn't mind, but sometimes people act as if he's not there. It's my job to sink into the background, he'd placated once.

Still, you don't like when people ignore him. This spells good tidings.

You're in very nice but comfy clothes, soft loose trousers and a t-shirt that's too big for you, because you'd thought that was what people where to these kinds of things — it's what they wear in all the movies you'd watched to prepare — so you're horrified when you realise they're all dressed in fancy blouses and fine jewellery.

"Sit down," James reminds you gently, putting pressure on your shoulder until you sit.

"Right," you say with a laugh.

"You can sit wherever you like," Mindy says to James.

He tips his head slightly to one side. "I really don't want to intrude on you girls. I can happily stay by the door."

Mindy shakes her head. "No, sir. You can protect your lovely treasure from right here."

James sits beside you.

Mindy is clearly quite wealthy. Her living room is a large space with huge couches and an impressive television bolted high on the wall, Dirty Dancing already queued and waiting to play. Before you know it you've a cocktail in hand and the lights have been turned down low, the movie accompanied by a low level of chatter.

"Patrick," Georgia says dreamily, watching as the main characters dance in the middle of an empty room.

"He's not very handsome-" Milly says.

"What?"

"Let me finish! He's not very handsome in the classical way, is he? But his demeanour is what makes him so yummy."

You huff under your breath, a laugh you can't contain as they descend into a debate on all his pros and cons.

"He's more handsome because he can dance. It's his charisma."

"What does Y/N think?" Mindy asks, turning to you eagerly. You almost choke on your sip of cosmopolitan, face growing warm under their expectant gazes.

It's not entirely their fault. James turns to you to, you can feel his thigh pressed closer to yours. This isn't the kind of thing you and he ever talk about.

"Um, he... Well, I think he's-" Your voice falls to an insecure murmur. "He's not not handsome."

"I don't think he's all that," James says.

The girls roar with laughter. You turn to James to watch him chuckling, a grateful smile on your face.

"Can you dance, James?" Milly asks.

His arms burns where it touches your own. "Not like that," he says.

More laughter. You feel two things at once, and this time you're willing to admit one is some sort of jealousy. He's super funny and you love that about him, you're just not sure if you love everybody else knowing it too. But then, the second feeling, pure affection for him. He deserves droves of girls fawning over him. It makes sense that they're all so charmed.

They all sing the closing song of the movie to each other in dramatic duets. Mindy tries to include you, and then Georgia does too, but singing in front of people isn't something you do. It takes too much courage. You'd have to disregard the embarrassment of being bad, and you're not good at that. Nevertheless it's a great time that makes you laugh until your side hurts, especially when Dahlia and Darcy try to do the dangerous 'lift' dance move.

You dip your head toward James. "You could definitely do that."

He laughs, startled. "Do what, shortcake?"

"The lift."

"Only if you're the one I'm lifting," he bargains.

"Never in a million years," you say, cheeks filled with heat.

They want to do manicures after that. This is two cosmopolitans later, mind you, but you gather around the coffee table with finger dividers, and soon Milly is passing out calming sheet masks she got from the supermarket. You laugh at one another, ghosts in practice, and your laughter gets worse when James agrees to let Milly put one on him. His hair's so thick and curly that he needs to wear a headband to keep it away from his face, a salmon coloured pair of bunny ears.

You're on your fourth cocktail, a long island iced tea, by the time your nails are done, and Georgia has started retelling a story about her last date, how weird the guy had been, and how he had failed spectacularly in the bedroom.

"I mean, I probably should've known there wouldn't be much joy when he showed me his matchbox collection, but I thought he was eclectic, not stupid."

You giggle and lean hard into James side for support, your own face mask starting to slip down your face. He's already peeled his own off, skin shiny and soft, and he reaches out with delicate fingertips to pull yours away too.

"Here," he says, dabbing the excess essence off with a flannel.

"Thanks, Jamie," you say happily.

"Worst date of my life," Georgia finishes, rolling her eyes.

"I can't beat that one!" Darcy says quickly. "I was twenty, and we went to Burger King for dinner. Burger King. I was wearing a little black dress and heels. And when we get back in the car, we were supposed to be going for a film, he leans over the handbrake and starts trying to kiss me and all I could see was a tiny piece of lettuce in his mustache," — you hiccup hard and slap a hand over your mouth, overjoyed by her tortured tone — "I pulled away, obviously. And he grabs my shoulder and said, come on baby, I saw how you were looking at me back there.

Back there. In the Burger King." She rolls her eyes. "You gotta be kidding me."

The girls share their horror stories and you laugh and sigh sympathetically in most of the right places, until you're the only one left who hadn't spoken.

"What about you, Y/N?" Dahlia asks.

"Yeah, what's your nightmare date?"

You stiffen. "I mean... I... I haven't-"

"Come on, it can't be as bad as the guy who spit in my ear," Milly says.

You laugh, because ew, but struggle to come clean without sounding awkward. "I've never been on a date before."

"Oh," Mindy says, sounding not disgusted but let down. She recovers swiftly. "Well, you aren't missing anything, babe."

"Yeah," Darcy placates. "Especially if it's with a guy. No offense."

James raises a hand. "Please, it's fine. I've no delusions when it comes to my sex."

The girls continue to try and comfort you. You hadn't wanted any comfort, and every new reassurance makes you shrink. It's lovely that they're trying to make you feel better, but you feel abruptly inexperienced and ashamed about it.

"I once had a girl break an egg against my forehead," James says.

They all pause.

"On a first date?"

"Yup. She'd brought eggs. In her purse."

They gawp. You gawp. You've never heard this story.

Halfway through a dramatic rehashing his hand finds your calf for a quick squeeze. You realise he's making the whole thing up shortly after and you've never felt more thankful for him. And he once stopped you from getting tasered by grabbing the weapon with his bare hands, so.

"Aren't we a little old for friendship braceletes?" Milly asks, a practically fully-formed chevron bracelet in hand.

You struggle with your beginners bracelet made of four strands. James, beside you, is a natural. Your elbows keep brushing together, and it's a lot.

"Some of us had bad childhoods, Milly."

"Shit," you whisper, your bracelet loop sneaking out from under the masking tape anchoring it to the table for the tenth time in as many minutes.

"You're pulling too hard," James whispers back.

"Everyone's quicker than me!"

Mindy yawns and proclaims to go receive the sleeping bags and air mattresses she'd promised. "Keep working, Y/N! I want that bracelet around my wrist when I get back."

"No problem," you say easily, and then, "James, what do I do? Please help me."

James looks over at your bracelet. You've made knots on the wrong strings, the bracelet more a net than anything. He side eyes the group of girls sitting around him, all putting the finishing touches on their projects, before quietly slipping his bracelet into his lap and swapping it with yours.

"Stick it back on the table and I'll show you," he murmurs covertly.

You stick his bracelet on the table in front of you with some masking tape and James takes charge. He grabs your hands with zero hesitation and shows you how to knot the strings, the 4-shape you need to make and which strings you need to make it on. His hands are very warm, super soft, and when he lets go you feel it like an absence.

"Get it?" he asks.

Kind of. There's an obvious difference in the quality of knots made. James' are all neat and uniform, yours less so, but you chalk it upto rushing and mindy doesn't know any different, hugging you as you tie it around her wrist.

"It's stunning," she proclaims. "Where's yours, Mr Bodyguard?"

He shows your bracelet. "I had some trouble."

There's a little wave of giggles that hurts your feelings, but then Darcy says, "It's alright, James. They're really hard if you've never made them before."

"Yeah, I spent an entire summer in primary school teaching myself. That's a great effort for a beginner!"

"Practice makes perfect, anyways."

James nudges you casually with his elbow. "Thanks, ladies."

Soon, the room is enveloped by the rushing sound of the electric air pump blowing up air mattresses. They're sandwiched together, and even with Darcy on the couch and Mindy in her own bed there's no enough room.

"I'm so sorry," she says, "I didn't think about where he'd sleep."

"Technically, I won't really be sleeping," James says.

Your heart is thudding painfully against your ribcage. "Uh, well," — you're so desperate to seem cool and not cause any problems that you blurt without thinking — "it's fine, James doesn't mind sharing with me." You look up into his dazzling, sun-kissed face. "Do you?"

A flicker of surprise clouds his features. He hides it. "No, of course I don't mind."

The time approached half-twelve quickly. James is off shift at 1AM, and while he might usually go home he's already told you he'll be staying the night. He hates when you're in unfamiliar places. You don't complain, though when it's dark and everyone is drunkenly snoozing in their plastic beds, you sit up in your sleeping bag and search for his figure in the dark.

"James?" you murmur.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Is y'shift over?"

"Yeah. Mason's just pulled up outside." Mason means Jack and Jack means the night team. You roll your eyes at how ridiculously looked after you are.

"Do you want to come and sleep? You must be tired," you continue, your own voice dulcet with an obvious fatigue.

James picks his way over to you where you're nestled in your pyjamas and sleeping bag. "I can go kip in the van, if it makes you uncomfortable."

Is he kidding? He's just spent the night not only looking after you but making sure time and time again that you didn't look stupid in front of your new friends. He might be the nicest boy you've ever met, and the last thing you want him to do after all of this is go sleep sitting up in the back of a van.

"Are you crazy?" you mumble, unzipping your sleeping bag to entice him in. "S'cold in here. Your nose would get frost bite out there."

"Poor night team," he laments agreeably.

The air matress lifts you up with James' added weight. He makes his way under the unzipped sleeping back and has to cling to your hip to stop himself from falling off. You frown at his scratchy clothes.

"Did you bring pajamas?" you ask.

"No offense, shortcake, but no. Obviously I did not."

Your sleep (and cocktail) addled brain doesn't have the energy to feel offended. "Y'gonna be uncomfortable."

He doesn't speak. You assume he's done talking for the night and curl your leg up toward his thigh, when he says, "You won't mind if I take my shirt off? The fancy labels are really itchy."

"No, fancy-pants, I won't mind."

Even in your state you can feel the nervousness of being so close to him after he's peeled off his shirt. He's a huge hot water bottle beside you and you face toward him, cold but miles too shy to make a move.

It's like he can read your mind. "Are you still cold?" he asks, pulling the sleeping bag up to your chin.

"A little. My nose is cold," you murmur, eyes feeling heavier by the second.

His hand lands tentatively against your cheek. His thumb rubs against the tip of your nose. "What was it you said about frost bite?"

You genuinely can't remember. His hand is so warm, his body, his touch something you desire badly on a good day and yearn ceaselessly for on your worst. You bracelet his wrist where it rests against your neck and rub over his pulse unthiningly.

"You want a hug?" he asks knowingly.

"Just for a second," you agree. Your dignity shrivels with the speed of your reply.

He laughs under his breath and slides his arm under your shoulders. For a second it's uncomfortable and achy, and then he's pulling the brunt of your weight onto his chest and wrapping arms around you.

You shudder at how warm he is, the heat of his palms over your spine.

You lavish in his hold and steal all of his emanating heat until you're toasty as can be, sleeping bag snug over your limbs and face nestled in the bare skin of James' shoulder.

"Sorry," you mumble.

"For what?"

You're surprised he's still awake.

"For... For being so... I don't know. Because you had to save me so many times."

"Saving you from awkward situations is easy, don't worry about it. And I think you would've done better without me than you realise."

His hand creeps up the nape of your neck.

You're pretty beside yourself, tipsy and tired and tenderised by his tactile touching. He's familiar. More familiar than anything. It feels like a dream to be in his arms. It probably is.

"You're a good girl, Y/N," he says, and it doesn't feel weird at all. He means it honestly. "You're kind. You're caring. People were bound to love you eventually. It took a while, but they do."

"It didn't take you a while."

"Well, I'm smarter than everybody else, you know that," he says.

You both laugh. His hand strokes the side of your face and rests behind your ear. You can't pin point when you fall from dizzy laughter into sleep, but James can.

He watches your face relax in the near-dark, watches your shoulders settle under his hands. The whole while he's thinking God, what am I doing? This isn't professional. This is the opposite of professional.

He tries to ease you off of him and abandons all hope when you turn your face into his chest and your lips touch his skin. Each exhale a warm kiss.

In the morning, he'll likely tease you within an inch of your life. You're shy enough on a normal day that he doubts you'll survive it. But for now, he rubs the length of your back and wonders if this is how you feel when he's standing guard. So, so safe.