#I assure you it's not only females my man

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi!! I was hoping I could request a fic where the reader is clumsy as fuck.

And when Bucky and reader go on their first date, he notices bruises scattered over the reader and gets worried that someone in their life is hurting them. Which reader insist, "no I'm safe I'm just clumsy as shit" which he's heard too many times before so he remains unsure.

BUT as the dates go on, he begins to realise just how honest they were being. Hes constantly having to stop the reader from walking into poles and tables, he's catching things before they can hit the ground (including the reader), and when they come home he kisses all their bruises or marks.

And when they finally are becoming more intimate, he's scared of bruising/ hurting the reader and they have to convince him that they aren't made of glass and to just go for it.

Not Made Of Glass » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets worried when sees bruises on you and you assure him that you’re just clumsy.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of implied Smut (18+), language, clumsy!reader, bruises (not abuse), kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You and Bucky are on yours and his first date. As you were telling him about yourself, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that you have a couple bruises on your arm and one on your shoulder. It worried him. He’s starting to think that someone gave you those bruises.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.” Bucky apologizes politely. “How did you get those bruises?” He asks curiously.

“Oh, those? My friend’s son was trying to teach me how to skateboard, but I ended up falling and that’s how I got these.” You explained.

The thought of someone abusing you lingered in his mind.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“Of course I am.” You replied.

“Is someone hurting you, doll?” He asks, keeping his voice low so no one heard him.

“No, I’m safe. I’m just clumsy as shit.” You say with an assuring smile.

Bucky smiles back. He still couldn’t help but let that suspicion linger around in his mind. He’s heard that one too many times.

“The only reason why I asked is because I want to make sure you’re safe.” He says softly.

“You’re sweet to care and worry, Bucky.” You smiled. “Those are my two favorite qualities I like in a man.” You say, sipping your drink.

“If someone is hurting you, I’d make sure that won’t happen ever again.” He says.

You knew what he meant when he said that. You also know he said it to protect you. That’s another quality you like in a man. You and Bucky are going to get along just fine.

You invited Bucky out for coffee the following morning. You walked in the coffee shop, smiling when you saw Bucky. You were so happy to see Bucky again that you didn’t notice the chair next to you and you ran into it. Bucky looked up from the newspaper he was reading to see you moving a chair out of your way.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asks.

“Yes. I just didn’t see the chair.” You say with a small giggle.

You gave Bucky a kiss on his cheek before ordering coffee and sat down at the table across from him. You crossed your leg over the other. Bucky found another bruise, but this time, on your shin. It’s a little bit bigger compared to the ones on your arm and shoulder.

“What happened to your leg?” Bucky asks, pointing at the bruise on your shin.

“I walked into a tow hitch on a pickup truck a couple days ago.” You tell him honestly.

The suspicion of something abusing you is still on his mind, but he also believes your honesty. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious and suspicious of something, right?

A few days later, Bucky asked you out on another date. He went over to your house to pick you up. You invited him inside while you finished up getting ready. Bucky looked around your house, admiring the pictures and decorations.

“I’m ready!” You announced with a smile.

Bucky smiles, admiring your beauty and outfit. He winces to himself as you walked into the doorframe, hitting your arm on it as you were walking out of your bedroom.

That looked like it hurt.” Bucky says.

“Only a little bit, but I’m ok.” You say.

“May I?” He asks softly.

You nodded. Bucky gently lifted your arm up to his lips, kissing the red mark that will soon be a bruise on the side of your arm. You couldn’t help but blush when he did that.

“You’re really sweet, you know that?” You say with a smile.

“I care about you is all, doll.” He says softly.

“I care about you too, Bucky.” You say in almost a whisper.

Bucky gently caressed your cheek and kissed you softly and sweetly. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. You’ve never been this mind blown by a kiss in your life.

“Woah…” You say, completely speechless when he pulled away.

Bucky smiles at the speechless expression on your face.

“You ready to go?” He asks softly.

“More than ready.” You answered with a smile.

When you and Bucky got to the restaurant, he’s starting to realize that you’re right about being a clumsy person. You almost walked into a table and he gently moved you away from it so you didn’t give yourself another bruise.

“Careful, doll.” Bucky whispers.

“I am being careful.” You say softly, kissing his cheek.

Over the next few weeks, you and Bucky went on dates every weekend. In those weeks, Bucky has been moving you away from things like tables or poles before you walked into them so you didn’t hurt yourself. Today, Bucky tagged along with you while you ran errands. Bucky swore he ages 10 years every time you run into something or almost run into something.

“Wanna get coffee?” You asked, pointing at the coffee shop across the street.

“Sure.” Bucky answers.

You and Bucky looked both ways before crossing the street. When you guys got to the other side of the street, you tripped over the curb and Bucky caught you before you fell.

“Are you ok, doll?” He asks softly.

“I am now.” You smiled up at him.

You guys went inside of the coffee shop. You somehow tripped over your own feet. Bucky grabbed your arm before you fell.

“I think it’s time to go home.” He says.

“But I want coffee.” You pouted.

You pouting is one of Bucky’s many weaknesses. He can’t say no to you when you pout.

“Ok, fine.” He gives in.

You squeaked softly and kissed his cheek. To keep you from running into anything, Bucky put his hands on your waist and guided you to the counter to order coffee. You two got coffee and then went home.

“You know what to do, doll.” Bucky says.

Bucky now kisses every bruise you get. You took your -Bucky’s- sweatshirt off and rolled your pant legs up, revealing the few bruises you got over the past couple days. You smiled as you watched him kiss each bruise on your arms softly. You then sat down on the couch and he crouched down in front of you and kissed the couple bruises you have on your legs and one on your knee.

“I love how much you care about me.” You say softly, running your fingers through his hair.

“It’s part of my job as your boyfriend to care about you, doll.” Bucky says, sitting down next to you on the couch.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” You asked.

“Only if you want to be my girlfriend.” He says.

“I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

Bucky smiles and kisses you. The kiss got heated quickly. You two fell back against the couch. He put his weight on his forearms so he didn’t crush you. You wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you.

“You know, I don’t mind if you lay on top of me.” You say.

“I know. I just don’t want to hurt you in any way.” He says.

“You can never hurt me, baby.” You almost whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

“I just want to be cautious.” He says.

“I’m not made of glass, you know.” You say.

“I know.” He mumbles softly. “I love you so much and don’t like seeing you get hurt.” He says.

“I love you too.” You pecked his lips softly. “I won’t mind if you’re a little bit rough with me in the bedroom.” You say seductively.

Bucky leans his forehead against your shoulder and groans softly, dirty thought flowing into his mind.

“There’s safe words for a reason, baby.” You whispered in his ear.

A shiver went down his spine when you kissed just below his ear, a soft moan leaving his lips.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans softly.

Bucky stood up and picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom. An excited squeal left your lips. He gently laid you down on the bed and got on top of you.

“You’ll use a safe word if I’m too rough on you?” He asks just to be sure, rubbing the tops of your thighs.

“Yes.” You answered with a smile.

“You’re in for a long night, babydoll.” He almost whispers.

“Bring it on, baby.” You say softly, bitting your bottom lip.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[greyowl-archives]

Thin Ice ~ A.H

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

wc: 4.7k

cw: kind of secret relationship that only the team is really aware of, agent!reader, Hotch being angry (my favorite gender), insecurity, a bit of angst if you squint, wife!reader, injury, blood, protective!Hotch

a/n: Second fic Rah! Woah this is longer than I thought. Soz for the delay guys, got caught up in some uni work but will try my best to put something out once a week. Don’t know how I feel bout this one if I’m being fr.

Summary: A retired agent comes back to assist with a case and immediately decides he has it out for you. Hotch is tempted to call him out for it but you assure him it’s fine. That is until the agent carries out an outrageous idea that puts your safety in jeopardy. Your husband leaves the agent with a bit more than just a warning.

“You’re here early” You heard Rossi comment as he walked into the conference room.

You gave a half hearted hum, not looking up from the files you were reading over. “early start to my day” you replied. “Managed to get to bed at a reasonable hour last night”

That wasn’t entirely untrue. You were out practically the moment you put the kids to bed and collapsed into yours. The reason you were up bright and early, however, wasn’t by a well timed bedtime but rather the fact that by the time it reached four in the morning and you’ve already woken up practically every hour before then, you decided to just get up and get a head start at the bureau.

Aaron was going to be on your ass today.

Your lack of text message from him this morning said as much. You knew he had felt you shifting restlessly around in the bed and there was no chance he didn’t wake up when you quietly slipped out a few hours later. And since nothing got past that man, you knew he would’ve seen the trashed remains of the not one, but two cups of coffee you hastily downed before your departure.

Any moment now, he was going to walk in, Wednesday today so he was going to have his grey suit on with the red tie. You liked that suit on him, it was one of your favorites, and he will definitely use that fact to his advantage. He’ll greet the team and just as he reaches his seat next to you, he’ll catch your eye with a fleeting look, one that with three years, approaching four of marriage behind you, didn’t need any words.

And speak of the devil, here he was.

You didn’t look up, didn’t have to to know it was him. You recognized the pace of his shoes against his stride and the faint sound of the briefcase buckles.

“Morning” you heard him greet the team as he walked in, his steps going louder as he approached your side of the table.

He placed his files on the table and within the next moment, your third cup of coffee was taken out of your hand and set aside.

“(Y/N)” he greeted, his voice low.

You finally tilted your head up to glance up at him and there it was, the hardness of his eyes, the slight furrow of his brow, the look.

It didn’t linger long before Aaron sat down, letting Penelope present the case.

Female abductor. Sexual sadist. Serial Murderer.

You wondered if seeing these things on file will ever get easier. You felt your stomach coil at the sight of the women, their faces lifeless and eyes forever frozen with terror. Big holes in the palms of their hands and in each of their feet like they were….

“Crucified?” Emily offered.

Spencer shook his head.

“No, the angle of the wounds doesn’t align with those of a crucification” he turned the file to the side a bit, his eyes scanning over the pictures. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning.

“They were hung” he finally said.

“Like from hooks? Like the ones at a butchers?” You asked, lifting your head up from the file.

Another shake of his head.

“No…pinned, like to a wall” Spencer straightened up, his brows raising like they always did before he dumped a bunch of information. “The evidence of torture is consistent with his anger and hatred for the women as well as the assault, however also consistent is his sexual sadism. After he’s done with them he’ll hang them up like trophies, just like hunters”

Yeah. It’ll never get easier.

“Alright, Garcia run through all the records of hunting rifles purchased within the area and cross that with mental health assessments” Aaron said.

“Right away sir”

“Before we leave-“ his voice stopped everyone in their tracks. “-Agent Carter, former associate director of the Criminal Investigations Unit, will be assisting us with the case today. He will be meeting us at the airport”

“Shouldn’t he be here with us?” Derek asked “This is a critical case, we should make sure he’s familiar with it”

“He’s good at what he does. You guys will need to trust him. Wheels up in an hour. Agent (L/N), a minute”

You lingered behind as you watched the rest of the team file out before letting out a breath.

“I told you Aaron, it’s fine” you said once the door closed.

“I’m having a hard time believing you”

He sat against the table, his arms crossing across his chest, his head tilting a bit so he could see your face better.

“What’s going on? Don’t lie to me”

His voice softened, taking on that gentle tone he always used with you, knowing it made you weak.

You sighed, your eyes dropping down to your fingers which were absentmindedly tracing over the table.

“I want to do better…be better” you said quietly. You saw him shift in your peripheral as he realized what this is about.

“You did what you thought was right”

“What I thought was right ended with a girl dead Aaron” you bit back.

It had been a slip in the case, the unsub was smarter than the team initially thought. In a spontaneous decision, you went in alone, only a gun on you to protect you.

For a moment, things were looking up despite the grim circumstances. You found the girl, got her untied, and started guiding her back to the exit with no altercation. That should’ve been your first warning. It was too easy. And then just as you were about to leave, he appeared out from behind a wall, a different girl in his arms, a gun pressed to her head.

What was going to be the biggest hit of your career quickly turned into a gamble. One life for another.

You hadn’t prepared to have to talk him down and you weren’t yet experienced enough to do it on a whim. So you took the shot.

But he must’ve seen it in your eyes because the girl would go down with him.

It had weighed on you heavily, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the team.

Aaron especially.

He normally hovered over you- always having you somewhere in his line of sight, trailing behind you where he could whether that was interrogations or to areas of interest, and when he couldn’t he’d make sure he knew where you were-but that protectiveness was just a byproduct of your marriage.

But after this incident he was just…everywhere all the time.

He wasn’t subtle about having you in his sight anymore and you could see him practically everywhere you turned…hovering. You weren’t allowed anywhere alone let alone barely even be alone.

He assured you that your slip up didn’t change your standing as an agent with him, but it seemed like everytime the team was called to go out on the field, he’d find some excuse to keep you on the sidelines.

“I just feel like you don’t trust me anymore” you said, looking back up at him.

He glanced away for a moment before letting out a breath.

“I’m taking the necessary precautions”

You watched as he stood back up to his feet, straightening his blazer out.

“I’ll see you in a bit”

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Agent Carter was a short man with an even shorter patience.

He greets Aaron and Rossi with a firm handshake but barely regards the rest of you, save for a brief nod.

Now you’re in a sort of awkward corner with Aaron sitting next to you while Rossi and Carter sit across from you.

“She must be a talented one for you to choose her for the case” Carter said, nodding towards you.

You turned your gaze away from the window at his words, your brow furrowing a bit at the implications behind them.

“She’s a special agent not an intern” Aaron said curtly, not looking up from his file.

The agent seemed surprised at this, his brows quirking. “No kidding. How old even is she?”

This time, Aaron’s eyes flickered up at the agent, a hint on irritation passing through them.

“How about you ask her?”

“Twenty four” you said before the agent could open his mouth.

“That’s young”

“Does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Are you good?”

“Substantially”

Agent Carter nodded silently, his eyes raking over you for a brief moment.

“I hope you are right”

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Your lips were cracking even before you got out of the airport.

Oro Valley Arizona, in the middle of May.

Just your luck to be stationed outside of the city in the big open desert, with no proper ac unit as far as the eye can see.

You squinted, your sunglasses not helping much with the sun that was beating down on you as you looked over the scene.

“And you searched this entire area?” You asked, looking up from where the latest body was found, now covered by a white sheet.

The sheriff nodded.

“Yes ma’am. Expanded our sweep to two miles in every direction. Found nothin’ helpful, not even shoe prints. This killer is stealthy”

You hummed, nodding your head.

“Yes he is”

You stepped back up to the main road where the team had set up under a white tent.

“What you got sunshine?” Derek asked as you joined them under the shade. You sighed. “Stealthy but predictable. You?”

Derek shook his head, looking over the scene photos again. “Same. No evidence. It’s like she just appeared here”

You frowned as you saw officers begin to head back into their cars. “What’s this about?”

“I told them to sweep the scene again, identify what car the guy used from any tracks left behind in the sand” Agent Carter said, not looking up from his files.

“The sheriff told me they checked, not even in just the surrounding area but two miles out, no tire tracks in the sand were found” you said. “There’s reason to believe he drove here but carried her to the dump spot on foot”

“Do I look like a damn idiot to you?” The agent suddenly asked. You blinked, not expecting the harsh tone.

“Sorry?”

Agent Carter sighed heavily, closing the file in his hand.

“Look kid, I get that you’re all young and excited to be involved in this case and stuff, but just let the professionals with more experience do their jobs alright?”

Any irritation you already suppressed from his earlier attitude came bubbling back in your chest and you felt heat rise into your cheeks.

“I think it is within everyone’s best interests not to waste our time chasing leads we don’t have” You bit back.

He let out a bitter laugh, his files dropping harshly onto the table in front of him as he turned towards you.

“Yeah you’d know a lot about best interests huh? Like how your best interest got that girl killed?”

That was a low blow.

You should’ve seen it coming, but it truly caught you by surprise and you visibly froze up.

Behind you, you heard Derek get up from his seat. “Watch it man”

The agent let out a scoff, his eyes flickering between you two. “I think you’re best sitting this one out agent” he muttered to you, turning back to his files.

You swallowed thickly, feeling as though all the moisture has been sucked out of your throat. Derek went to place a hand on your shoulder but you were already storming off, pushing past Aaron who was just walking up to join you guys.

“(Y/N)?” He called after you but you ignored him, the corners of your vision already blurring with tears as you made your way to the car.

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

You watched the distant figures of your team working beneath the tents, some getting into cars and coming back while others walked about the area.

Aaron had glanced over in your direction a few times but you just turned away, plagued with a deep sense of shame.

You told him you were going to be fine.

This was going to be the case that proved to him that you could handle it. And yet here you were, sitting in time out like a child.

You imagine Derek had filled him in on a word or two hence why he hadn’t attempted to come over to you yet.

It was only when the evening had fallen were you waking up with him getting into the car. You lifted your head from where it was leaning against the window, wincing a bit at the soreness in your neck.

He didn’t say anything for a good moment, simply quietly starting the car before pulling out onto the main road.

You drove in silence until the scene disappeared into the darkness of the Arizona desert and then he spoke.

“I’ve heard what happened” he said, his voice soft.

You don’t respond.

“Are you alright?” He asks

You swallow again, your eyes fixing on the road ahead of you.

“Maybe he’s right Aaron, maybe I shouldn’t…I can’t…”

“Hey, stop that, we talked about this (Y/N)”

You let out a breath that sounded like a scoff.

“Did we?”

You saw him straighten up from the corner of your eye at your retort.

He sighed heavily, a sign he was getting worked up and he was keeping himself in check.

“(Y/N)” he repeated, his voice firmer. “I told you I am taking-“

“-the necessary precautions, honestly Aaron just give me a break” you said with an exasperated breath, your body slumping into your seat as your arms crossed over your chest, your head turning to the window. “I just want to go to the hotel” you murmured, your voice quiet and laced with defeat.

You felt Aaron look at you, practically could feel the way his brows furrowed before he returned his attention to the road.

Three hours later, after a quick dinner and much needed warm shower, the two of you were tucked into bed. Aaron, exhausted by the heat and from following sheriffs practically back and forth all day from the same three places, was already dozed off beside you, his breath leaving him in soft snores.

You were wide awake, turned onto your side as you watched him in the quiet darkness of the room, your eyes following the way the street lamp light traced along his features. You liked watching him in moments like these, away from the demand of work and where you can see him as the soft Aaron only get to see at home.

You sighed, slowly turning back onto your back before pushing yourself up, quietly slipping out of the bed. You turned back, making sure Aaron was still asleep and once you were satisfied, you reached for your sweater, pulling it over your head as you silently left the room.

You didn’t know where you were going, just wandering aimlessly through the brightly lit hallway.

Eventually, you stop at a small sitting area, sinking down into one of the brown leather armchairs, leaning back against it and allowing your eyes to close.

“Long night?”

The voice startles you and your head snaps up, your eyes fixing on the figure standing in front of you.

Agent Carter in all his glory, still dressed in his suit, stood a few paces away from you, a somewhat unreadable expression on his face.

“You can say that”

You say back.

Agent Carter sighs.

“Look” he says, circling the chair across from you and sitting down. “I know we got off on a bad start”

“Bad might be an understatement” you muttered.

“Right just…” he sighs again. “Listen as unbelievable as this sounds…I see myself a lot in you kid” he said.

You watch as his hands clasp together his thumbs tapping against each other. Your eyes flicker back up to his face, trying to decipher where he was going with this.

“I want to give you the opportunity of a lifetime that’ll elevate your career as an agent to standards that rival Hotchner and Rossi”

Against your better judgment, your curiosity peaked. “Go on”

A small grin graced his lips.

“We can have this unsub in handcuffs before anyone wakes up in the morning. Oh just imagine their faces, his face when he sees what you’ve managed. How does that sound?”

Good.

Really good in fact.

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Maybe there’s a point to that tight, coiling feeling in your gut when you’re putting your life on the line.

You force yourself to breathe, to keep your head up and your arms relaxed at your sides as you walked through the quiet streets, your path only illuminated by the yellow streetlamps.

Your heels clicked steadily against the pavement, the hem of your short dress brushing against the skin of your thighs with each step.

This was risky. Dangerous. Stupid above all.

You were vaguely aware of the black car trailing behind you in the shadows, you could feel the watchful eyes of the sheriff and agent Carter on you, offering a minimal semblance of security as you baited yourself out.

Baited was put lightly.

You were handing yourself over to this killer on a silver platter and an apple in your mouth.

You closed your eyes for a moment, forcing your mind to focus, to relax. If you’re too tense, he won’t come.

A gust of wind breezed past you and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, goosebumps sweeping across your skin.

“A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be out here in the cold”

A car, a older Mercedes Benz, pulled up to a stop next to you. Your eyes fixed upon his face behind the wheel, barely visible in the shitty streetlight above you.

Younger, a lot younger than you’ve anticipated.

Anywhere from brown to sandy brown hair and if you squinted, you could make out the green of his eyes.

You stopped in your stride, making a purpose to exaggerate the swing of your hips as you turned to him, arching your back as you leaned against the car, ducking your head to see him better.

“What would you know what a pretty girl like me should and shouldn’t do?” You asked, a sweet, flirtatious smile on your lips.

He chuckled lowly, leaning towards you a bit.

“How about you get in this car and I’ll show you pretty girl”

Your eyes subtly darted around, anticipating for the black car to come out of the shadows to make the arrest, but it never did.

You bit your lip, a deep coil of dread tightening in your stomach at the realization of what you had to do. A thick swallow and strained smile later, you were buckling yourself into the passenger seat as the car steadily pulled off the curb, your gaze just barely catching the sight of the black car emerging and turning away in the direction opposite of you.

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

Your eyes fluttered open, your vision darkened and blurred, an insistent high pitched ringing in your ears making it hard to focus on anything else.

A sharp pain pulsed at the back of your head, making you squint against the light steadily beaming over you in the otherwise dim room.

“There’s my pretty girl”

A rough hand gently caressed your hair and a cold plunge went down your spine as the guy came into view.

He stopped in front of you, leaning down with his hands pressing against your forearms and you could smell the acrid sweet smoke that lingered from his cigarettes.

He tilted his head, his face morphing into a sickly mocking expression.

“Aww dont be like that. You’re the most beautiful piece I’ll have in my gallery”

You didn’t want to show weakness, give him the satisfaction of your fear, but the reality that this really might be it, that you’ll become another victim to your case, was starting to set in.

He let go off your hair and your head dropped.

You heard him straighten up and saw him step away to a nearby table, coming back with a small blade that glinted as it appeared in your line of vision.

You closed your eyes again as you felt the cool metal slide beneath the ropes binding your wrists.

You tried to imagine it was him.

Aaron.

Tried to imagine he was kneeling in front of you, one of those gentle chuckles that you loved so much rumbling in his chest as he worked to get the satin rope off your wrists.

“How’d you even manage to do this sweetheart?”

He’d asked, shaking his head in amusement. You could’ve only blushed and looked away, a shy smile on your lips. It was his birthday and you had wanted to surprise him when he got home from work that night, except you got yourself tangled trying to wrap yourself up for him and ended up stuck on your bed for him to discover.

Your wrists would be freed and he’d help you up to your feet. “Don’t be shy, angel” he murmured against your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and then to the corner of your mouth. You could smell his cologne, diluted by the smell of paper and coffee from the office, his aftershave against his skin, wood…

Blood

Your eyes opened again as your head was yanked back by your hair, landing upon a canvas of wood.

“You’ll look so pretty up there. Prettier than any painting ever painted”

Your stomach turned as you looked upon it, the blood that had saturated into the wood, lighter in areas where the bodies were pressed against it, the splintering where the women had struggled in their last moments.

“Stay still. You don’t want this to hurt more than it has too”

A click of a gun.

“Let her go”

Aaron’s voice startled you more than the situation you were in.

You were promptly yanked around and the blade of a knife was pressed right against your throat as you were pulled back against the guy behind you.

There you could see him, standing off just where the light could reach, his gun drawn and angled steadily in front of him. His hair was soft and beneath his vest, you could make out the familiar white shirt that he slept in that night.

Maybe you were imagining things.

Maybe you were already hanging from the canvas in that foreboding room, your neurons firing the last image of him in their dying moments.

“There you are agent, just in time for the show”

“There will be no show”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong”

You felt the knife press harder into your skin, breaking it ever so slightly. Aaron’s eyes met yours for a moment.

Leave.

Don’t watch me die.

And then, he lowered his gun.

You watched as he placed it down on the table beside him, the sound emitting around the room.

You saw his palms raising in the light, a white flag amongst the battle.

Your body slumped a bit with relief.

This didn’t have to turn worse than it already was.

You opened your eyes again to him only to see he wasn’t looking at you.

His eyes were fixed on something behind you.

In fragments of a second, the weight of the body behind you was sliding down and crumpling to the floor, the blade of the knife falling from your throat and clattering to the ground at your feet.

You hadn’t even processed the sound of a gun going off until Aaron was in front of you, his strong arms enveloping you as your knees buckled.

“There you go, I’ve got you. It’s ok, you’re ok” he murmured, his lips brushing against your head.

The tape was pulled from your lips and you let out a weak breath, your throat seeming to burn from the thick air.

“Aaron” you exhaled against him, your hands shakily wrapped around his neck, your fingers sliding into his hair, holding him, feeling him.

“Aaron I’m sorry I just wanted to-“ you babbled, the damns breaking as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Shh we’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you out of here”

⋆⋅ ⋅☆⋅ ⋅⋆

An ambulance was already outside waiting for you on the side of the road.

The air was frigid and the surrounding area was dark, miles of empty desert spanning in every direction around you.

You sat quietly on the back edge of the vehicle, wrapped in Aaron’s jacket as the paramedics treated the wounds around your wrists and Aaron sat next to you, holding an ice pack to your head.

The rest of the team lingered around you, keeping enough distance for you and Aaron to have some space.

“Hey Morgan, take over for a minute” you heard Aaron say as he stood. You lifted your head up at him, giving him an inquisitive look.

“I’ll be right back sweetheart” he said, pressing a kiss to your head as Derek took his place next to you.

You watched Aaron walk up to the car that had pulled up a few paces ahead. “Who’s that?” You asked.

“A man who’s place I would not want to be in right now” Derek answered.

The car door opened and out stepped Agent Carter. You saw his mouth barely open before Aaron was on him.

“Who gave you the order?” Aaron demanded, his hands grasping at the lapels of the other man’s blazer and pushing him back against the car.

Agent Carter swallowed before he spoke.

“I assure you we made the plan with as much caution-“

Aaron cut him off, his grip tightening around the fabric.

“Caution? My agent gets swept up in five seconds right under your nose? Was that part of the ‘cautiously arranged’ plan?”

“My plan-” agent Carter said, pushing Aaron off him”-led us to him didn’t it?”

There was a heavy moment of silence and you could see Aaron’s jaw clench before he spoke again.

“You had no authority to carry out this plan without my knowledge. You evaded my authority as unit chief and jeopardized the safety and life of one of my agents”

Agent Carter sighed. “It won’t happen again alright?”

“It won’t because you are no longer an agent” Aaron said. “The attorney general will be informed of your actions and you will be placed under investigation for obstruction of justice and the deliberate endangerment to safety of a federal agent” he held out his hand, an expectant look in his eyes.

You saw the other man’s eyes flicker down to his hand and then back up to his face, hesitating, hoping Aaron would let down. But he didn’t. Aaron kept his stance firm and eventually, with a sigh, Jamie Carter handed over his badge and gun.

“Strauss will be waiting for you when we land back in Quantico” Aaron said. He gave a brief nod to JJ and Rossi who escorted Carter to one of the nearby federal cars.

Aaron walked back to you, glancing down at the badge in his hand for a moment before tucking it away into his pocket. He smiled lightly as he approached, thanking Derek as he retook his place beside you.

You sighed, looking up at him. “I’m sorry again for everything Aaron” you said quietly. “I should’ve discussed the plan with you beforehand”

He hummed and then was silent for a moment.

“When we get back, Penelope will have your new badge. I just got the confirmation that it was validated”

You frown in confusion as you watch him stand once again. “New badge?”

Aaron smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks.

“Well, i think it’d be impractical for an SSA to walk around with a regular special agent badge, don’t you think?”

GIF from Pinterest

Headers from @cafekitsune

[kaunis-sielu]

Naja Returns: 2

When you get Cassie back to the safe house you switch out the plates on the car, just in case. Then, slipping out of the garage you pull your phone out of your pocket and find Bucky’s number. Taking a deep breath you press his name then put the phone to your ear.

“Hi Doll.”

“Bucky.” You’re a bit embarrassed to admit that you sound breathless when you say his name.

“You somewhere safe?”

“Yea.” You assure him, it warms your heart that he’s asked. “Why are you in New York?”

“Never really left. I got a place in Brooklyn after everything that went down with you.”

“Oh.” He, never left?

“Can we meet up somewhere? I feel like we have a lot to talk about and I’d rather do it face to face.”

“You can come here. Just, make sure you’re not followed.”

“Your client is okay with that?”

“I trust you and she trusts me.” I tell him and Bucky is quiet for a moment.

“I, thank you.” You’re surprised that he seems surprised by this information. He did save your life once after all.

“I’ll send you my address.”

“Is this your new number?”

“Yea.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few.” He promises and after you hang up you send him the address. Cassie is in the bedroom when his car pulls up.

“Hey Cassie. Bucky is here do you wanna hang with us or in your room?”

“I’ll stay in my room if that’s okay? He’s such a big man.”

“Whatever makes you more comfortable. I’ll keep him in the living room.”

“Thank you. For everything.” You can’t help but give her a little smile, Cassie is a sweetheart and you hate what he’s done to her. The knock at the door doesn’t surprise you, it’s two quick taps, not loud but loud enough to hear across the house. When you pull the door open Bucky moves into the house.

“Hi.” He says not looking at you but instead glancing around the room. “Where is Cassie?”

“In her room. She doesn’t need to be here does she?”

“No.” He stares at you for a moment. “It’s really nice to see you Tori.”

“You too Bucky.” This is kind of awkward, you don’t know how to react. The last time you saw him you were running away from him after killing several men. “Do you want to sit down?” He sinks onto the couch then looks over at you on the armchair.

“So, you’ve put yourself on the map with some dangerous men.”

“Not the first time. Won’t be the last.” You tell him with a little shrug.

“Probably true.” He rests his elbows on his knees, “but Sam thinks these ones are dirty. So these ones have a badge and probably a vendetta.”

“Great.” You deadpan and he gives you a little smile. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“I want to hire you.”

“I’m a little busy Bucky.”

“I know. I have a plan for that too.”

“That you came up with in less than an hour?” You ask with raised brows and he chuckles.

“The plan started to come together the second I saw you.” You lean back in your chair waiting for him to continue. “I could put Natasha on your client. She’s the best female I have. We’ll keep the same agreement you have with her and we’ll stay on her until you’re satisfied that the job is done.”

“They know me now.”

“So did I.” He says locking eyes with you. “Tori. My team isn’t built for surveillance and evidence gathering. You took down an entire team of assassins by yourself in less than twelve hours. I got an up close and personal look at how you work and I’m still not sure how you did it.”

“I have to talk to Cassie about this. I won’t just abandon her to someone she doesn’t trust.”

“Understandable. I can have Nat come over?”

“I want to talk to Cassie first. Before anyone comes over.”

“Okay.” He agrees, “would you ever consider actually joining Nomad?”

“No.” Bucky laughs softly at your immediate response, and you’re glad that you didn’t offend him. “No offense but I’m better working on my own.”

“I wasn’t offended. It would just offer you some extra protection if something were to happen.”

“If I kill someone.”

“Yea.”

“I’ve only killed one guy and that was because he started it.” You tell him, in your defense he did start it. He’d started the shooting the second he’d laid eyes on you, you’d just finished the shooting. Bucky grins at you,

“Just give it a thought Doll? Please?” You nod and he leans back against the couch.

“How have you been?” He asks,

“I’ve been okay. Keeping busy, trying to make sure that I don’t slip back into bad habits.”

“Like?”

“Do you know how easy it would be for me to just, get rid of these men and not bring them to the police?”

“I’d like to think it would give you some pause after six years.”

“You’d think.” You agree but he’s wrong. Sometimes it’s so easy to imagine how you’d take care of the shit heads before you met Bucky.

“And you’ve really been okay?”

“Yea. I have steady work, I feel like I’m making a positive difference. It’s, nice.”

“Good. Are you,” he shifts in his seat, “are you seeing anyone?”

“No. Hard to date someone when I have to lie to them about my past.”

“Oh, right.” He rubs the back of his neck, “sorry. This is kinda weird right?” You can’t help but laugh,

“Yea it’s kinda weird.” You affirm and he leans back in the chair.

“Why did you run from me?”

“Because, I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be and being around you when I couldn’t do that was too hard.”

“So you ran from me?”

“And my past. At least a little.” You admit, Bucky nods his head.

“I can understand that. Do you want to go talk to Cassie so I can fill you in on my plan?”

“Yea, it might be a tough sell.” You tell him before standing and heading to the room where Cassie is hanging out.

Tag list:

@connie326 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @killcomet @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

[cemitadepollo]

Divine feminine?? No dude, I don't think u got me. I'm the divine masculine.

[infictionalwonderland]

all the bau meeting spencer’s badass gf who drives a motorcycle, has tattoos, dresses like a mob wife!!!! pls pls pls i need to read their reactions to bby boy pulling us

i can definitely do that for you !!

“You have to be nice.” JJ stared imploringly at Derek who looked back at her in shock across their booth in the bar, falling dramatically back into his seat.

“Nic—I’ll be more than nice.” He assured with the beginnings of a mischievous grin, only for Emily to slap him across the back of the head. “Hey!”

“I bet she’ll be so cute! Like a mini female Spencer all bundled up in fluffy cardigans and—aww I bet she’ll have big adorable glasses.” Penelope gushed excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat.

The sound of a motorcycle roaring distracted them and they all looked out of the window in that general curiosity that people get upon hearing a motorcycle, who was the potential hottie driving it.

Penelope gasped loudly, her drink splashing as it clanked against the wooden surface. Emily and JJ’s mouths dropped open, eyes popping out of their skulls dramatically. Derek genuinely felt lightheaded as he watched the scene before him—grasping desperately at the edge of the booth. Rossi’s eyebrows arched and he shook his head, chuckling slightly to himself. Hotch merely stared, though a smirk was twitching at his lips.

“Absolutely not—“

“What? HOW—“

“It’s a clone. An alien!”

The team’s startled chatter broke off as Penelope shushed them all loudly: everyone watched as their Spencer, boy genius, Reid got off of the back of the motorcycle, removing his arms from around the waist of the breathtakingly gorgeous girl. He offered her his hand as he stood in front of her and she rolled her eyes fondly at him, taking it. When she stood, he unzipped her motorcycle jacket for her and eased it off her shoulders—revealing a silky black halter dress, her arms scattered in tattoos, as were her thighs. Hoops dangled from her ears, red bottoms on her feet, nails manicured and hands adorned in rings.

Derek literally flopped back into his seat, starstruck.

All of them watched, heads turned accordingly to never stop looking at the pair of you (mostly you), as Spencer folded your jacket over one arm before taking your hand in his other as you both walked to the entrance—they could see he was rambling and you stared up at him, a charmed smile on perfectly painted lips.

“I—“ Emily sucked in a breath, flustered, “they’re coming now—act natural.”

At her hiss, Penelope purposefully fell back into what she thought was a more relaxed position, fluffing her hair. JJ awkwardly straightened out her clothes, leg bouncing. Emily leaned over the table ‘casually’ swirling her drink and Derek positioned himself with a broad arm flexed on the windowsill, looking out the dirty screen of the bar window with a smoulder.

Hotch looked at them all and silently shook his head, Rossi chucked silently at his face of disappointment.

The team heard the click of your heels approaching and vague remnants of your conversation with him that led Spencer to giggling.

Shocked looks were exchanged and Penelope looked like she was going to melt into a gooey puddle of awwwww.

“Hello everyone!” Spencer chirped as he reached their table, happier and more relaxed than they’d ever seen him be. “It’s nice to see you all—this-this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

“Hi.” Your voice was silky smooth and Penelope eyed your immovable un-smudged lip-combo with admiration. “It really is a pleasure to meet all of you.”

“The pleasure is absolutely all mi—“ Derek stopped, his sentence turning into a series of harsh wheezes as both Emily and JJ elbowed him in either side.

You blinked at them.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” He continued in a pained voice, collapsed dramatically into his seat.

JJ and Emily rolled their eyes.

“Hi! It is so so so cool to finally meet you—I’m Penelope and you are even prettier than Spencer described and, believe me, your doctor man used every ounce of this thick vocabulary to compliment you.”

You quirked a grin at the excited redhead in front on you, looking teasingly over at your boyfriend who was blushing bright red but he grinned shyly back at you.

“David Rossi.” The Italian introduced himself formally as you and Spencer sat down in the booth, opposite him. “I always knew Spencer was a man of good taste.” He gave you a mischievous smile.

“I would argue that we both have great taste.” You winked back, settling into your boyfriend’s side.

The team watched the easy way that Spencer allowed you into his space, the way in which he wrapped his arms around your waist with a comfortability they’d never seen before and the urge to smile was simply too much to ignore.

“I just want to say, If the genius ever messes up. .” Emily trailed off, making a phone with her hands and holding it against her ear, she mouthed ‘call me’ at you.

As laughter left your smirking lips, you looked up at your boyfriend who shook his head playfully down at you—you turned your head to kiss his cheek briefly, smiling up at him.

“I’ll be sure to give you a ring.” You promised her as the laughter around the quietened slightly.

“And me!” Morgan piped up happily only to groan unhappily again as JJ slapped him over the head.

“Don’t call Morgan.” JJ advised, leaning across the table as though to confide a secret in you, voice lowering to a mock whisper, “he’s got an STD he refuses to get rid off.”

“LIES AND SLANDER.”

“Not on his good name.” Penelope joined in, giggling all the while.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—I’m Aaron Hotchner.” Your boyfriend’s boss introduced himself to you as everyone got sucked into taking the piss out of Derek.

“It’s lovely to meet you Hotch.” You replied kindly, taking the name you’d heard them all call him.

“Please,” Aaron paused briefly, glancing at Spencer with a minuscule smirk, “call me Aaron.”

You nodded with an unaware smile but Spencer’s mouth dropped as his boss to a sip of his drink to hide his smirk, not him too.

[sunniques]

— 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

➺ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your stepdad shows you how blissful life would be if it was just you and him.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, age gap, reader can be carried by cheol, mentions of drugging, daddy kink, spanking, cockwarming, fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, mirror sex, having sex while someone else is in the same room, creampies, squirting

➺ WC: 6.5k

NOTE: PLF MASTERLIST. don’t like, don’t read. thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3

Seungcheol is conscious of the fact that he’s been acting out of character ever since his wife returned from visiting her parents. Maybe he’s being too obvious about no longer wanting to stay married, but he doesn’t care. Not when making you happy is the greatest joy in his life.

“Cheolie,” you say sweetly as you gently tug on his hand to get his attention. “Look at this one! It’ll look so good on you!”

You’re giddily pointing at one of the many necklaces on display. It’s exactly the type of jewelry he likes to wear, and his heart tightens with affection at the fact that you know that. Unlike his wife.

“Sir, box this necklace up for me please,” he says to the employee attending you two without looking away from your smiling face.

“The price—”

“It’s fine,” Seungcheol waves him off without any hesitation. “I’ll pay whatever price.”

Even the man blushes when Seungcheol brings your intertwined hands to his lips to place a sweet kiss on the back of your hand. His love for you is so clear, and he thinks it’s extremely sweet that your boyfriend(?) bought every single piece of jewelry you said will look good on him without any hesitation.

“What about you, sweetheart?” Seungcheol says as he tugs you closer. “Do you want anything else?”

You tilt your head with a thoughtful hum. The cute bracelet and matching rings were enough for you, but there is something else you want. Something that only Seungcheol could get you and would mean more to you than the things you picked out.

“Will you choose something for me?”

Seungcheol’s heart stutters at the way you blink up at him, eyes shining with affection and anticipation. There’s no way he could ever say no to you, and the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of you going around wearing something he chose for you. So he pulls you to the opposite end of the counter where the more expensive items are at.

After you’re done, Seungcheol savors the walk to the car. Your hand in his feels so right. It’s almost like his hand was made to fit with yours. Even on the drive home, Seungcheol doesn’t let go of your hand. He’s not ready to yet. Knowing that he’ll have to let you go and act like you didn’t spend the day together is getting harder for him. Having to hide everything he feels for you is bothering him more and more as the days go on.

“We’re home!” You call loudly as you walk into the large foyer.

“You’re back!”

Your mom rises from the couch when you step into the living room. Immediately, she goes to hug your stepdad. You stifle a laugh when Seungcheol obviously dodges her kiss and it lands on his cheek instead. Your mom frowns but doesn’t say anything. Instead she focuses on all the shopping bags in her husband’s hands.

“What’s all this?” She glances up at her husband before looking back at you. “Did you ask Seungcheol to take you shopping?”

“He offered,” you say casually, trying not to sound smug. “Since we’re spending next week at the villa.”

Your mom sighs and looks at her husband pointedly. “You didn’t need to buy her so many things.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Seungcheol says sincerely. “It’s the first time we’re going away together as a family, so I wanted to spoil her a little.”

Your mom frowns, but doesn’t argue. “Fine, but Y/N, at least help your stepdad with the bags!”

Seungcheol waves his wife off, assuring her once again that it’s no problem. You shrug insouciantly when your move gives you an irritated look. It’s not your fault her husband’s love language is acts of service (not that she would know). Instead of lingering downstairs so she can nag you, you follow your stepdad upstairs.

A warm feeling tugs on your chest when you see him set down all the bags beside your bed. You wonder what it would would be like to live every day like this—a life where it’s just you and him. The fleeting thought pushes you to go and hug him from behind.

Seungcheol smiles when you lean your head against him and tighten your arms around his waist.

“Thank you for my gifts, Cheolie.”

The words are spoken sincerely and with no trace of lust. Only with pure, unadulterated affection. It makes him smile wider. “You’re welcome, baby.”

You two stay like that for a while until your mom’s voice calls for her husband. A petulant frown takes over your face as you reluctantly step away from Seungcheol. It’s times like these where you wonder how much longer you can keep doing this. Sharing him wasn’t (that much of) an issue for you before, but things shifted drastically after the weekend you two spent alone. Now, Seungcheol feels more like yours than he ever has.

What you don’t realize is that your stepdad feels the same way, only his feelings are ten times more intense than your own.

That night, Seungcheol lays in bed and goes over his plan to make sure his wife doesn’t get in the way next week. He plans to have fun with you and only you. It’s the perfect opportunity to show you what a life with him will be like. By the end of the week, he knows you’ll want nothing more than to start a life where it’s just the two of you.

“Mom, it’s not a real vacation if you work the entire time,” you say with a sigh.

As usual your mom waves you off with a disinterested hum. She types away on her computer, only pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I just need to answer a few emails.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

Even though it’s such a nice day out, your mom refuses to go anywhere. The most she’s willing to do is sit out on the terrace and work. It makes you wonder why she suggested this vacation in the first place.

“Why don’t you go keep Seungcheol company?” Your mom suggests without looking up. “He’s inside watching a movie.”

You sigh again and head to the living room where your stepdad is. Licking your lips, you go over and join him on the couch. Seungcheol smiles warmly when you sit down next to him. He wraps a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. His hand slowly trails up until his fingers are teasing your nipple. The thin sundress you’re wearing makes it easy for him to get it to pebble.

“You look so cute, princess,” Seungcheol says as he roughly squeezes your tit. “Did you wear my favorite dress on purpose?”

The devious smirk you give him makes him groan quietly. He yanks up the hem of your dress, exposing your plush thighs and bare pussy to the cool air. Seungcheol licks his lips. “Fuck. You just wanted me to see your cute little cunt, didn’t you, brat?”

“Yes,” you say as your body burns with need.

You spread your thighs, bearing your dampening cunt completely for your stepdad. Seungcheol goes to cup your pussy, thumb slowly rubbing dizzying circles on your clit.

“You’re already so wet,” he groans in delight. “What a little slut.”

You mewl as he slowly sinks two fingers into your clenching hole. A loud whine gets stuck in your throat as Seungcheol’s fingers venture deeper into your needy cunt, eagerly seeking out the spongy spot that always reduces you to a moaning mess. You rock your hips slightly as you turn your head to bury it in his broad shoulder.

“Daddy,” you whimper as his fingers flex deeper into your soaked pussy. “Make me cum.”

“Nasty girl,” Seungcheol’s smirk is wolfish as he sinks a third finger into you. “You that desperate for me?”

Your cunt throbs and releases more juices as his long fingers scissor you open. Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach as your tight walls flutter around his fingers. They slowly pick up the pace, reaching the spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Yes—fuck. It feels so good, daddy,” you whine brokenly as your tight walls suck on his fingers.

“You’re going to get us caught if you keep being loud, baby,” Seungcheol groans as his thick cock strains against his sweatpants.

You moan softly when his fingers slide deeper inside you to press against the sensitive spot that always makes your brain shut down. He laughs in his throat when your eyes shut and your mouth drops open in a silent moan. The sound of your arousal gets louder with every passing moment. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he grabs your leg to hook it over his own to spread your pussy wider for him.

“God, just look at how wet you are,” Seungcheol uses his free hand to grab the back of your head and force you to watch as he plays with your squelching pussy. “Dripping all over my nice couch.”

“Can’t help it, daddy,” you whimper as you watch his long fingers penetrate your tight hole. “I’ll lick it clean later.”

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, cock throbbing at your filthy words. You’re both entranced with how your cream is coating his long fingers, noticeably creating a ring where his wedding band is. You can’t deny that you love how your juices stain the metal. It’s like you’re claiming his as yours.

“Nasty little slut,” Seungcheol growls as he works your pussy open. “You like daddy fingerfucking you while your mom is on the terrace?”

You close your eyes and nod dizzily.

“Keep your eyes open, brat.”

The demand is followed by a harsh slap on your cunt. Your loud cry mixes in with the lewd sounding smack. Seungcheol quickly stifles your cry by smashing his lips onto yours. He swallows all your moans and mewls as he forces his tongue into your mouth. The way his tongue massages yours is enough to push you over the edge.

Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as your orgasm rips through you. Seungcheol groans into your mouth as you gush all over his fingers. Your soft cry sounds so hot, even if it is stifled by his mouth.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs adoringly as you grind into his hand. “Fuck. It’s so easy to make you cum.”

You whine when he slowly pulls his fingers out of your soaking cunt. Your pussy flutters when you see sticky strings of arousal clinging to his long digits. Seungcheol gives you a filthy smirk before he sucks on his fingers, groaning lowly at your sweet taste.

“Can I have your cock now, daddy?” You bat your eyelashes in the way that always gets him to do what you want.

Seungcheol immediately pulls down his sweats enough to let his cock spring free. It pulses with need as he goes to lay you on your back. Your dress is pulled higher to completely expose your messy pussy.

“Be good for me, baby,” your stepdad hisses as he rubs his leaking tip between your folds.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as Seungcheol collects your arousal on his cock. He smirks down at you before slowly easing into you. His groan makes you clamp down on him.

“Goddamn,” Seungcheol groans when he finally bottoms out. “Pretty little pussy’s always so fucking tight.”

Impatient as ever, you start to grind up into him, using his cock like a toy. Seungcheol’s eyes gleam with fondness as your juices smear all over his pelvis. He starts to move, hips grinding into yours. You moan quietly as his thick cock stretches and fills your needy hole.

“Harder, daddy,” you whine like the brat you are. “Make me cum all over your big cock.”

Seungcheol growls quietly. He loves how nasty and needy you get whenever your mom’s around. As always, he can’t deny you or himself that pleasure. Your stepdad starts fucking into you roughly, making your pretty tits bounce in your dress. He roughly yanks down the material, loving how hard your nipples are. He swoops down to suck and bite on them, hips never stopping as he fucks his thick cock into your aching cunt.

“Daddy!” You mewl, arching your back and forcing your tit deeper into his mouth.

You love how he’s fucking you like some mindless animal. His cock is drenched with your cream, completely coated to the hilt. You cry out when his leaking tip hits your sweet spot, repeatedly ramming it over and over again.

Seungcheol nips at your nipple before moving to give the other one the same attention. His heavy balls slap your ass with every thrust, and he can feel his orgasm quickly approaching.

The sound of the glass doors sliding open startles you, but not enough to tell your stepdad to stop. Seungcheol slows his movements, but makes no move to slip out of your pussy. He releases your nipple with a too loud pop and slowly straightens out. You cover your mouth with your hands, pussy clenching as you hear footsteps fade into the direction of the kitchen.

“Honey, where’s Y/N?”

Seungcheol eyes flicker down to you, cock throbbing at the sight of you all fucked out underneath him. All his wife has to do is walk in his direction to see her lovely daughter stuffed full of cock with her pretty tits out. She’d see the remnants of his spit on them and know he was licking and sucking on them like he’d never done to hers.

“She went upstairs. I think the movie bored her.”

Luckily, only your stepdad’s head and shoulders are visible from over the back of the couch. You’re completely hidden, which is why Seungcheol slowly starts to drive his girthy cock into you. You’re sure that if the movie wasn’t playing, your mom would be able to hear the lewd squelching coming from your pussy.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to have to jump on a call in a bit,” your mom says dismissively, clearly not too interested in your whereabouts. If only she knew. “I’ll be out on the terrace for a while.”

“Fine,” Seungcheol’s voice is a bit strained as his wife comes out of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. “Just make sure you tell your boss that this is the only call you’ll take this week.”

His hips have stopped moving by now, but the fact that you can tell your mom has come closer makes you clench down on his cock. You stifle a whine as you carefully grind on his dick. Your clit bumps against his pelvis, making your eyes cross from pleasure.

“You know I can’t do that,” your mom sounds disapproving as she looks down at her phone. “The company needs me. No one knows more about this proposal than I do.”

Using the distraction on her phone to his advantage, Seungcheol grabs your hips and pulls you down on him as he gently thrusts forward. The fat tip of his cock slams right into your sweet spot, and you can barely hold back your moan. Light tremors rake through your body as your stepdad keeps fucking you while his wife in none the wiser. His hands slip down to your thighs before he presses them into the couch to keep you spread for him.

Fuck. It’s such a filthy sight that he almost wishes his wife would see it. That way she would see for herself how much better you look taking his cock.

“Okay. Just let me know when you’re done working. Y/N wanted to go to the beach later.”

His heated gaze stays on you as his wife mumbles a dismissive agreement. Seungcheol’s cock throbs as his wife walks back out to the terrace, sliding the door closed with an audible click.

Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh and immediately goes back to pounding your hot cunt. He grabs your hips and pulls you to meet his rough thrusts. Loud squelching and skin slapping fills the large room as your ravenous stepdad uses you to get closer to his orgasm.

“God, baby. You get so tight when you think we might get caught.” Seungcheol groans loudly, knowing his wife has put in her earphones by now to focus on her meeting. “You like the idea of your mom catching you fucking her husband?”

You nod through an impetuous moan. “Yes—fuck. I wonder what she’d do if she saw how much better you like my little pussy.”

“Filthy little brat,” Seungcheol groans fondly as he keeps pumping his leaking dick into you.

“You like it too, daddy,” you moan as his frantic movements grow rougher. “Just knowing your wife might walk in and see you stretching me out on your big cock turns you on.”

Seungcheol moans, unable to deny it. He starts to rub fast circles on your raw clit, eager to get you to cum on his cock. He gives you a filthy smirk when you tighten around him again.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cream all over my cock so I can fill you up like you want?”

Your stepdad fucks into you harder when you moan out a desperate yes. He rams his cock deeper into your pussy until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. Filthy noises mix in with the forgotten movie as Seungcheol’s thick cock spears into your messy hole. His fingers play with your sensitive bud, quickly driving you over the edge from how good it all feels.

You wrap your legs around him, pussy convulsing as you cream all over his dick.

Seungcheol groans out your name, sloppily fucking you through your orgasm. Your pulsing walls grip his cock tightly, effectively milking him for his hot cum. He shoots thick ropes into your pussy, filling you to the brim. You happily take it all, loving how it drips down his cock with every needy grind. He slaps your pussy playfully before capturing your lips in another nasty kiss.

You gently nip at his soft lips, not wanting to separate from him yet. “Let’s go upstairs, daddy. We need to clean up before lunch.”

Sometimes, you wonder if your mom cares about you at all. In the morning, you wake up to a text saying she’s cutting the vacation short because an emergency came up at work. You almost think you’re still dreaming until you rub the sleep out of your eyes and read the text again.

It’s not disappointing, not exactly. From the start you knew she didn’t actually want to go on vacation. It was just another attempt to save her failing marriage, but as usual, she put her career first.

You roll out of bed and go to the master bedroom. Right away, you can tell your mom is gone. All her stuff is gone, and you wonder just how early she got up to catch a flight back home. You pout when you notice that Seungcheol also isn’t in the room. Since your mom is gone now, you had planned to wake him up with some head. Just as you contemplate your next move, you hear noise coming from downstairs.

One thing you never thought you’d see is Seungcheol standing at the stove, shirtless and only wearing pajama bottoms. He’s cooking something that smells delicious, and the fact that he looks so hot doing it just makes it even better.

You quietly walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his chiseled torso. “Morning, Cheolie.”

“Morning, baby.” He says fondly.

Your stepdad shudders when you place a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. He basks in your touch, glad that you don’t immediately pull away from him now that you’re alone.

“I’m glad she’s gone,” you say after a while. “That way I can have you all to myself.”

Seungcheol knows he’s blushing, and he’s glad that you can’t see it. His heart pounds as he hums in agreement.

“We can do whatever you want, baby. Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

You grin against his back, already planning the perfect day with him in your head.

After you two have breakfast, you and Seungcheol head to the beach. It’s a beautiful day out, and you love that you can openly hold his hand and be affectionate with him to your heart’s content.

“Let me put sunscreen on you, princess.”

You lay on your stomach, humming in delight when your stepdad’s big hands smooth down your back and legs. He really works the cream into your skin, making sure no place goes untouched. Once he’s done, you grin at him.

“Your turn.”

Seungcheol feels like he’s in heaven. He’s lying on his back with you sitting on his lap in the tiniest bikini he’s ever seen. You’re rubbing sunscreen all over his chest and torso, cooing about how hot he is every thirty seconds. He sees other men looking at him with pure envy, and that just makes the experience all the more sweeter. Because he belongs to you, and it’s clear that everyone on the beach knows it.

You spend most of the day at the beach, building sandcastles and playing in the pretty ocean. Being with Seungcheol makes you feel alive and at ease. He’s so easy to be with, and you can tell he feels the same way.

When you return to the villa, Seungcheol tells you to shower and get ready because he’s taking you to one of his favorite restaurants. The way you run upstairs while squealing with excitement is so endearing to him. He yells a reminder to use the bathroom in the master bedroom since that’s where you’ll be staying for the rest of the week. He laughs heartedly when you respond with yes, daddy!

Seungcheol has never felt more lucky than he does now with you on his arm. You cling to him as you’re escorted to a secluded table with a fantastic view of the city. Seungcheol pulls out your chair, eyes trained on the glittering necklace around your neck.

“You keep staring,” you say teasingly as your stepdad goes to sit down.

“It’s because you look incredible in diamonds,” he says honestly. “I’ll have to get you matching earrings next time.”

Your stomach flips in excitement. Not because he’s talking about getting you something incredibly expensive to go along with the diamond necklace he bought you, but because he says it like you deserve nothing less.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, eying the necklace you picked out for him.

“My girl has incredible taste.” He says with a flirtatious smile.

The words make your heart stutter. It’s the first time he’s said something like that without being in a sexual setting. You don’t hate it. Actually, you like it a little too much.

“What kind of wine do you prefer?” Seungcheol wonders as he looks through the menu.

“Choose for me,” you say. “I want to know what you prefer.”

Seungcheol tries to contain his smile as he tells the waiter to bring a bottle of red wine. It’s hard not to feel like a giddy schoolboy when you make it clear the relationship you two have is not just one sided. His heart soars every time you demand to know more about him.

The rest of the night feels like a beautiful dream, one that neither of you want to wake up from.

“Let’s go upstairs. I want to fuck you properly.”

You laugh excitedly as Seungcheol leads you up the stairs. He’s playfully biting at your neck and letting his hands roam your body. It feels so blissful that you barely register that you’ve made it to the master bedroom.

Seungcheol spanks your ass before he’s desperately yanking your dress off. You go to take off the expensive necklace you’re wearing, but he stops you.

“Leave it on.”

You feel arousal drip down your thighs as you go to lay on the bed. Seungcheol quickly takes off his own clothes. His eyes are locked on your body, staring at you like you’re his prey. You’re no better. Like always, you can’t take your eyes off of his girthy cock.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” Seungcheol demands as he gets on the bed. “I need to taste you.”

You do as he says, eager to feel his tongue slipping through your folds. A loud moan cuts through the air when he buries his face in your pussy. He places open mouth kisses on your lips and clit, eager to make you fall apart on his tongue.

“Fuck, daddy,” you moan at you use your hands to hold yourself open for him.

Seungcheol fucks his tongue into your fluttering hole, moaning at the taste of you. He quickly loses himself in your taste, slurping up every bit of your arousal. You clench down on his tongue as he messily licks back up to your clit. You writhe underneath him as he sucks your pulsing bud into his hot mouth. Eagerly, you grind your clenching cunt into his mouth.

“So fucking sweet,” your stepdad groans as he slowly pulls back.

You cry out when he gives your pussy a harsh slap. The wet smack sends tingles up your spine. Your pussy is pulsing as you stare at Seungcheol with hungry eyes. His lower face is completely covered with your juices, and he’s never looked hotter. You moan when he slaps your cunt again. It hurts so good, and you arch into it when he keeps doing it. Each slap is harder than the last, and by the time he’s done, you’re gushing all over the sheets.

“Roll over for me, baby.”

You do as he says, pussy clenching in eagerness. He’s always so rough when he takes you from the back. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he yanks you toward him. Just when you think he’s going to tease you, he sinks his cock into your pussy.

“Take daddy’s cock like a good little princess.”

You let out a wanton cry when he harshly bottoms out. His leaking tip slams right into your g-spot and forces more juices out of your hot cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you deepen your arch.

“Fuck me, daddy!”

Seungcheol growls in his throat before he pulls his cock out of you halfway only to slam it back into your clenching heat. Arousal gushes from your pussy at his rough movements. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. A quiet whine escapes you when Seungcheol grabs your hair and pulls your head up to make you look into the mirror across from the massive bed. The sight is so filthy and hot that you start to lose yourself in the pleasure of it all.

Your stepdad starts pounding into your tiny pussy, fat cock stretching you out just how you like. As your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips start to move on their own accord, rocking back on him to get his dick deeper inside of you.

“That’s it, baby,” Seungcheol groans, drilling his cock deeper into your squelching pussy. “Work that hot little cunt on your stepdad’s cock. Fuck. Get it nice and wet for me.”

You move your hips more eagerly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Seungcheol hammers into your sweet spot. He’s relentless, fucking you like you’re nothing more than a hole.

“Keep your eyes on me, brat,” Seungcheol commands as he gives your ass a hard smack.

He meets your eyes in the mirror and smirks. God is he fixated on you and the way you look while he’s splitting you open. Your diamond necklace dangles with every rough thrust, and it makes his cock twitch and throb. As always, Seungcheol was right. You look so lovely getting fucked in the diamond necklace he picked out for you.

“Da-Daddy,” you gasp out.

“So fucking tight,” Seungcheol groans, fucking into you harder than before.

The sound of skin slapping together gets louder, and so do your filthy moans. You watch Seungcheol in the mirror, loving how hot he looks while he destroys your pussy.

“You’re so fucking hot, daddy,” you whine as you spread your legs.

Seungcheol hums approvingly and starts snapping his hips into you. He slaps your bouncing ass, pistoning his big cock in and out of your dripping cunt like a madman. You’re completely gone, moaning and mewling like it’s all you know how to do. It makes him go harder, fucking into your tight little pussy with no mercy.

“Tomorrow, we’ll do this outside.” Seungcheol decides, cock throbbing at the idea. “I’ll fuck you out in the open like the nasty slut you are.”

You slip your fingers down to rub your pudgy clit, loving his filthy words and how much they turn you on. Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh when he notices.

“Like that? Yeah, I bet you do,” he groans, taking his eyes off the mirror to watch your pretty ass recoil against his pelvis. “Dirty little brat. I’m gonna cream your little pussy until you can’t take anymore.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you mewl. “You’re so dirty.”

Seungcheol laughs as he drills his cock deeper into your cunt. His heavy balls slap your clit and drive you closer to your climax. All your stepdad has to do is give you one last thrust to push you over the edge. You yell out his name as your pussy gushes with your orgasm. Your stepdad groans loudly at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing his dick.

“That’s it, princess. Cream all over daddy’s cock like a good girl.”

You bounce back on him, eager to get him to stuff you full. “Cum inside me, daddy!”

Seungcheol moans your name and fucks his cock deep into your cunt before releasing his hot load inside you. Your pulsing walls milk him for everything he’s worth. Thick ropes of cum flood your little pussy until it’s leaking onto the soiled sheets. Slowly, Seungcheol pulls his cock out of your messy pussy. He loves the sight of his cum dripping out of your pretty cunt. It makes him ravenous all over again.

“Get up.”

You lick your lips and follow your stepdad as he gets off the bed. A squeal escapes you when he presses you against the wall. Seungcheol kisses you hotly as he pulls you closer to him. You barely notice as he goes to pick you up. He effortlessly throws your legs over his bulky arms before he teasingly drags his dripping cock over your messy cunt.

“Guide me in, baby,” he says as he presses wet kisses on your jaw. “Let daddy slide into your tight pussy.”

You whimper, pussy dripping with revived arousal. Lust clouds your mind as you go to do as he says. With one hand on his broad shoulder, you grab his cum covered cock and guide it to your soaking entrance. His bulbous tip nudges your pussy before he sinks you down on his throbbing cock. His hips flex as he slowly starts to fuck up into your little cunt.

“God, baby. Your cute little pussy just keeps sucking me in.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks his cock against your sweet spot. Lewd squelching fills the room as your stepdad bounces you on his cock. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his big dick stretches you out for the second time. The slight pain from his thrusts make you clamp down on his cock tighter.

“Daddy,” you mewl almost pitifully. “You’re gonna break my pussy.”

Seungcheol laughs. Not only because you sound so fucked out, but because you rock your pussy down to meet his unhurried thrusts. You’re addicted to his cock, and he loves that you can never hide it.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos, eyes fixed on the way your bouncing tits make the diamond necklace look even prettier.

“Fuck,” you moan when he starts to fuck you harder. You gasp and moan when his hands go to grab your ass.

“Pretty little brat,” Seungcheol groans as he kneads and squeezes your ass. “You always look so pretty when you’re stuffed full of cock.”

He keeps thrusting into you until you’re cumming all over his cock. It makes him laugh in delight. “That’s it. Cream all over daddy’s cock. Fuck. Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

You cry out as Seungcheol keeps bouncing you on his cock while he fucks up into your aching pussy. You’re drunk with pleasure, not bothering to stifle your wanton moans as you get split open with every rough thrust. The room reeks with the smell of sex, and it makes your pussy throb in delight. It always ends up this way, and you love that there’s always evidence left behind of how badly your stepdad is addicted to your tight little pussy.

“Cum again for me, sweetheart. Give daddy what he wants.”

Seungcheol smirks when you let out a fucked out whine. “What? Did daddy already fuck you dumb?”

Your pussy tightens and drips with more juices as you nod stupidly. Once again, your stepdad laughs meanly like he couldn’t be more proud that you can’t even respond to him properly.

Seungcheol squeezes your ass before he walks you back to the bed. You clamp down on him with every step he takes. A petulant whine of protest gets stuck in your throat when he pulls out of you with an obscenely wet sound. He tosses you on the bed before joining you.

“Dumb little brat. You can't stand not being stuffed full of your stepdad’s cock, huh?”

You give him a smirk, a little more lucid now. “Just like you can’t stand not having your cock buried in your stepdaughter’s pussy.”

Seungcheol places your legs over his shoulders and forces his cock back into your needy cunt. You cry out in pleasure, happy that your goading worked.

“You’re right. That’s why I’m gonna have to stay buried in your hot little cunt all week. Keep my little brat nice and full.”

You moan and grind your hips to meet his ravenous thrusts. “Fuck yes. Please, daddy. That’s all I want.”

Something about you begging so prettily and nicely always gets Seungcheol off. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna creampie this sweet little hole the entire time we’re here. That’s what a good stepdad does, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry, feeling another orgasm creeping up on you. “You’ll be a good stepdad and stuff my needy pussy, right, Cheolie?”

Something inside him switches when you use that endearing nickname. You’ve never used it during sex, but he doesn’t hate it. He absolutely loves it because it feels so much more intimate.

“Yes, baby,” his deep voice makes your toes curl. “I’m gonna give you a nice hot load. As many times as you want.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his filthy promise. His cock throbs and twitches inside you as he moves one of his hands to rub and pinch at your puffy clit.

“Cum for me, princess. Need your tight little pussy to milk me again,” Seungcheol coos softly.

You pant wantonly as your stepdad hammers his cock harder into your hot cunt. His fingers keep working your sensitive clit as he spears his thick cock deep into you. It’s all too much, and before you realize it, another orgasm crahses into your body.

“DADDY!” Your scream is loud as you arch your back, pussy gushing and clenching around Seungcheol’s huge cock.

“Fucking shit. That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for daddy.” Seungcheol groans as he fucks into your squirting cunt while your walls milk him for all he’s worth.

A feral noise leaves him as he buries his cock to the hilt, girthy length pulsing inside you as thick ropes of cum shoot into your pussy. Seungcheol fucks his spunk deeper inside you, leaning down to place gentle kisses all over your face.

“Taking it so well,” he murmurs adoringly, cock throbbing with pleasure. “Such a good girl for me.”

Seungcheol captures your lips in a heated kiss as his cock releases the last bit of cum. He pulls away and gives you one last affectionate peck before he sits up. His cocks slowly slips out of you, and Seungcheol’s eyes get impossibly darker when he sees his cum slowly tricking from your pussy. You love the possessive look on his face so you clench your pussy to push out more of his hot cum.

“This week’s going to be perfect.” He sighs contentedly.

You hum in agreement, making grabby hands at him. Seungcheol smiles sweetly and goes to cuddle you how you want. You sigh into his chest, letting the exhaustion take over.

“Love you, Cheolie. So much.”

Seungcheol presses a sweet kiss to your hair, basking in the feeling of having you in his arms. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

“So, how’s your vacation going?”

Seungcheol hums against your scalp, holding back a groan when you unconsciously clench down on him. You two decided to spend the day by the pool, which led to you wanting to cockwarm him. So now, he’s laying on one of the pool chairs with you on top of him. Your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as his big cock pulses inside of you.

The fact that he can lull you to sleep while his dick is inside you is so endearing to him. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, and once he hangs up his call he’ll fuck you awake, just how you like.

“Amazing,” Seungcheol doesn’t bother to hide the bliss in his voice. “Thanks again for calling my wife into work.”

Jeonghan laughs deviously. “I owed you one. You helped me pull off my plan.”

Seungcheol laughs along as he thinks back to the pills he gave his friend for his own nefarious agenda. “It took you longer than I thought.”

“You of all people know that plans like ours take time. If anything went wrong, I would’ve lost everything.” Jeonghan sighs as he thinks back on how long it took to perfectly orchestrate everything. “And you know I would never let myself be a bad guy in my little girl’s eyes.”

It’s true. He’s sure Jeonghan would rather die than have his stepdaughter think less of him.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says after a beat of silence. “What’s the next step? I can only keep your wife busy with work for so long.”

Seungcheol grins when you cuddle deeper into his neck. You’re close to waking up, so he’ll have to cut his call short.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a devious grin as his hand smooths down your back. “By this time next year, my ex wife won’t even be a thought.”

[bisquid]

Wait wait you can't just drop that off and not elaborate. What do you mean is there a mafia presence in Wales?? Please spill, what things did you notice??

Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:

I am in Cardiff

For a concert I am attending solo

Doors open at 5

4:15 ish I go 'hmm I should eat something'

Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy

Find McDonald's

McDonald's is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick's experience, and promptly bounce

Directly across the street

Is an Italian restaurant

It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit

Go over

Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)

"I was wondering if you were open and if-" "yes yes we are open what would you like?" (strongish Italian accent)

Inside restaurant is Deserted

Explain that I'm sort of in a rush, am assured it's fine

Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component

Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard

Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen

Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers

I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between

Am finally brought food

It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist

It is all delicious

Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef's apron labcoat thing

Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish

She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment' and promptly hangs up

I am 27 and only nominally female

I am not remotely lost

She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food

I try to point out that she hasn't charged me for the food

'do you want to pay for the food?'

'.... Not if I don't have to?'

'good'

I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel

I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)

I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends

The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food

'yeah it was great!'

Everyone laughs a bit

I smile and pet the dog and realise I'm now late for the concert and hurry off

I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once

[eudaimaniacs]

cherry (old! logan howlett x female reader)

character/universe: logan howlett/wolverine (x-men/marvel)

word count: 1.7k words

warning/s: full-on smut (minors, dni). loss of virginity and age gap

notes: i have a headache from swimming yesterday but still managed to finish this in a day (so it's not proofread). i have tons of requirements to do so i may do an occasional small imagine once in a while. anyways, enjoy!

You started dating Logan six months ago, and when the conversation about sex came up, you shamefully admitted that you're still a virgin. You didn't want to look like a little girl to the older man since you knew that he had dated and slept with numerous women in the past. When you let out those three words of truth, you expected him to break up with you. However, Logan smirked and remarked how he hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time.

So, it was a matter of waiting for you to lose your virginity to Logan.

You went to your close friends for sex advice. They weren't experienced with the topic but teased that you're going to fuck an old, attractive man. With a few good luck, you readied yourself for the day Logan will take your virginity. You didn't bother searching online since watching porn made you cringe. Additionally, the boys you dated were either clueless or too eager only fuck you. Logan wasn't like them; he cared and didn't date you because you were innocent and pretty.

One night, when you stayed at Logan's house, you decided to lose your virginity finally. You wore a white lace-trimmed tank top with black pajama shorts. You used the cherry lipgloss you bought for this occasion to make the night extra special. Logan donned the wifebeater tank top you loved. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard made him extra sexy, or maybe it was the age gap.

You two cuddled on the queen-sized bed you cleaned before this night. The softness of the pillows and the blankets didn't lessen your anxiety. With you touching his chest and Logan snaking his hand around your waist, you waited for the opportunity to bring up the conversation about sex again.

"Logan, honey? I have something to ask you," you whispered as you scratched his chin.

The older man hummed in agreement as he waited for your question.

Finding the right words, you blurted out, "Are you ready to have sex with me tonight?" With wide eyes and a beating heart, you hoped Logan wouldn't notice your nervousness.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. Logan remarked, "I'm ready when you are, princess."

Your gaze softened as Logan agreed to have sex with you. However, it dawned on you that you didn't know how to start. Were you supposed to pleasure Logan first, or is he the one who should do it first? Should you take off your clothes when does it too? Who goes first? Who comes second? Your mind raced with the inexperience you didn't bother to fix.

"What's the matter, [Y/N]?" Logan noticed that you weren't taking action. You didn't want to admit you didn't know what to do. What if Logan wasn't attracted to your inexperience? What if he hated how awkward you are at initiating sex?

You took a deep breath before admitting to Logan, "I'm n-not too s-s-sure what to do, Logan. I tried to, you know, do my research about sex. S-so I'm sorry if I seem to be aw-"

Logan cut you off before finishing to tell him the truth. He sat up and rested on the headboard. The older man commanded you to take a seat on his lap. You quickly followed and rested your head on his chest. The beat of his heart assured you that Logan would be understanding about your anxiety about sex.

"It's okay, [Y/N]. You don't have to worry about having sex for the first time. I'm here to guide you. Remember when I told you how I hadn't fucked a virgin for a long time? I want your first time to be special, [Y/N]," Logan softly whispered as he caressed your back to relieve you.

You giggled and raised your head to kiss his neck gently. Logan chuckled at your sudden, playful attitude after assuring you everything would be okay. You pushed up your chest against his, and the older man seethed as he saw your breasts.

"Look at you now. You're now teasing me with your boobs. I thought you were nervous," Logan chuckled as he massaged your butt. You gave him a beck before replying, "Maybe you cast a spell on me, honey. I got a bit fired up with that sweet talk you did."

Logan lifted your chin and saw your glossy eyes accompanied by the cherry lipgloss. Your innocence, mixed with playfulness and the cute face and outfit you had, made Logan's heart race. He couldn't believe that you trusted him to be your first time. His rough, veiny hands caress your shoulder as he toys with the thin strap of your top. Your breath hitched up at the older man's soft and sensual action. You touched his chest to support yourself and felt your pussy wanting to be touched.

You slowly rubbed your clothed vagina on his black denim jeans as Logan went under your top to grope your breasts. You let out a shaky moan as you chased your high. Logan smirked as he saw your face contorting at the newfound pleasure.

"Let me do something, princess. Lay down for me," Logan grabbed your thighs, leading you to stop rubbing your pussy against his jeans. You were unsatisfied that he prevented you from chasing your climax. However, you were equally excited about what he would do next. You lay down on the bed as Logan told you and waited for his following action.

Logan kneeled at the end of the bed and asked, "May I take off your shorts, princess?" His rough hands caress the softness of your covered thighs. You slowly nodded, not wanting to keep Logan waiting for your response. He chuckled and reassured you that he would always be patient with you. You felt Logan sliding off your black pajama shorts, and you lifted your legs for him to take it off easier. The older man sucked his teeth as the sight of your lacy pink panties appeared.

Your heart was beating fast since you were one undergarment away from exposing your pussy. Logan pushed the fabric to the side and smelled your arousal. Sweet. He slowly circled your clit and licked your pussy to taste you. Logan moaned as he ate you; he wanted to do it fast as he had never tasted a virgin pussy before. However, knowing this was your first time, he took it slow. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of Logan's tongue pleasuring you. You grabbed the bedsheets and screamed his name.

As you felt your stomach twisting, Logan stopped and wiped his lips coated with your arousal. You curved your eyebrows in disappointment as Logan continued teasing you. You whined about how he should stop it and remarked that you wanted to orgasm badly. Logan grabbed the hem of your tank top, telling you to take them off. He fondled your breasts and kissed you.

Logan shushed you and whispered, "I'm only prepping you, princess. I'm now going to give you the real thing." He stood up and unbuckled his belt for his massive penis to escape. You gasped at the length of it. How is it going to fit you? You were both hungry and scared of the enormous cock staring at you.

"Don't worry, [Y/N]. I'll take it slow, and you tell me if I need to take it out. Got it, princess?" Logan stared at your lust-filled eyes, waiting for your approval. You whispered a soft yes as you braced yourself for his length to push in. Logan grabbed your hips as he slowly entered inside of you. Your eyes suddenly opened at the foreign sensation penetrating you.

You let out a few tears but remained strong as you didn't want to embarrass yourself by tapping out. Logan saw it and whispered, "[Y/N], are you okay? Do I need to take it out?"

You shook your head and responded, "I'm okay, Lo. I need to adjust a bit to your length." Logan heartily chuckled as he rested his head beside your neck. You hugged his back and waited for the pain to subside. Taking a deep breath, you let out a small moan, signaling Logan to pick up the pace.

Logan started to thrust slowly and made sure that you weren't crying because of the pain. He lifted himself and pounded you. You grabbed his chest as you felt the shape of his dick molding your pussy. You screamed his name and told him how good it felt. Logan saw your bouncing tits and squeezed them.

"Lo-Logan, please kiss me. P-please, I need you to kiss me," you panted as you grasped the sheets. Logan leaned in to passionately kiss you. He tasted the sweetness of cherry lipgloss and let his tongue in. You scratch his back as you feel your high coming.

"I'm a-about to-fuck. I'm cumming, Logan!" You screamed as the older man quickened his pace to reach his high, too. You cried out pleasure as you felt his dick growing inside of you.

Logan hungrily kissed your neck and groaned at the sensation of your tightness. He went wild as he sensed his orgasm chasing him. You grabbed his hair to brace yourself from the immense pleasure coming.

"Let go, princess. Fuck, I'm close too. Come on, princess. Cum for me," Logan moaned as he quickly pounded for the two of you to release. You felt a wave of pleasure crashing over you as Logan did one effective thrust. You screamed out his name as your legs went numb at the pleasure.

Logan stayed inside of you as he released his cum inside of you. He pulled out to see the sheets stained with blood and your once-virgin pussy leaking with his cum. The older man kissed your forehead and grabbed a towel at your dresser to clean you up.

"How was it, princess? Was it good?" Logan asked as he gently wiped your thighs. You sat and rested your head on the board to look at him better.

You giggled and replied, "That was the best, Logan. I couldn't have asked for anything better." He softly grinned and leaned in to give you a soft, deep kiss. Logan savored the sweet taste of the cherry lipgloss. You hummed as he continued kissing you. And as the night became darker, the two of you slept soundly as the imprint of your gloss and virginity marked Logan and his warm cum filling you.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Animal Town (2) | Only Human

Part 1, Part 3

You awake from your midday nap to the sounds of shouts from a man and a woman. Sounding like the latter is in distress you immediately run for your bat opening up the door facing the road. To find a billy goat man pulling a cow woman towards your doorstep; similar to their animal counterparts the man is short and wide sporting a dirtied tank top sleek with sweat. The female cow being pulled by tiny horns on her head is bent awkwardly wearing a revealing top with underwear and a jockstrap. Before you need to say anything the billy goat man is gruffing in your direction.

“Oh, so this is where the rumored human is. Well, aren’t you pretty?”

You don’t bother answering that. “What are you doing to here and what are you doing to her?”

Your question has him looking at the crying girl and spitefully pulling her closer as her knees buckle to the ground. All the while she’s crying and pleading incoherently. None of that seems to bother the goat man though as he spits in disgust.

“I’m showing this heifer ain’t nobody gonna want her! Dry as the Sahara this cow is she ain’t give make me any money for the food she eats.”

For emphasis he throws her to the ground, waiting for her to crawl back to him. When she opens her mouth to continue pleading he kicks the sandy dirt in her face. It makes you sick. 

“I’ll take her.”

They both look up at you in surprise. The billy goat man belts out in laughter as a disgusting smirk spreads on his face. 

“Oh, I see! Looking for another kind of milk, huh? Good luck with that!” He kicks at her again as he turns back to his truck. “Enjoy it Heifer you might actually be of worth for once.”

As he speeds off in his rickety, rusted truck she cries out making a desperate attempt to follow. Tripping over the dirt, barely a couple steps in; scraping her knees in her unconventional wardrobe. She crumples into herself crying with her hoarse voice, you let her go on for awhile before lifting her up and into the house.

You don’t know the ethics or the inner workings of farming when it comes to hybrids. Only barely catching the surface of the unregulated and often cruel practices that ensue because it’s a market for hybrids to be typically successful. With this in mind your careful to be gentle to not take it personally when she refuses to speak to you. You can’t imagine what she’s gone through.

“Here’s a towel and some soap and a washcloth. I ran a bath for you.”

“.....”

“I’ll come check on you in a bit. Take your time.”

She only wordlessly follows your commands with a sullen look on her face. Even when Titan comes around poking and prodding at the new face, she hardly reacts. 

“Hey, you! What’s your problem, huh? Why aren’t you smiling, huh? Why are you wearing (Y/n)’s clothes? It’s not fair!”

“Hey Titan give her space she’s having a rough day!”

“Well when I’m sad I just go to you. Why can’t she do that?”

“Sometimes I just don’t make everybody happy, Titan. And that’s okay.”

“That’s stupid.”

“.....Waaaaaaaaa”

“Titan!”

“Sorry!”

After canceling your dinners with the neighbors for the week much to their displeasure you settle her into a bedroom close to yours. Just in case. It isn’t until the next morning that you wake to tears on your face. Sitting above you her bust taking up most of your vision is the cow woman silently crying as she pulls at her teats only for nothing to come out. 

“I’m useless. I can’t even do this for you!”

You spend the day comforting the cow woman who’s drenching herself in endless tears. With lots of assurance that you ask for nothing from her and talk to her about her ‘job’ she finally opens up.

“...It’s Eudora.”

“Eudora…that’s a beautiful name.”

“It was what they called my mother before…he…took over. She never officially bequeathed it to me…because she never got to retire.” 

Lots of hugs and praise are what fills your days with Eudora. Breaking the unhealthy practices regarding eating and what she did throughout the day. Instead of letting her lay in bed and stew in her dark thoughts, you invite her to your picnics and follow after Titan as he explores the groves of your property. Without the fear of not producing milk or verbal abuse she finally starts to smile and actually taking your advice. 

“You are a queen Eudora, just like the others at that farm.”

“Hahaha me? A queen?”

“Yes!”

“Is this some city thing you guys call people?”

“Kind of but the point is, is that you barely realize how gorgeous and desirable you are just because. It’s a way to remind you of that.”

“....Wow…that’s really sweet, (Y/n)....”

“Just being honest–”

“That’s not fair if she’s your queen I wanna be your king!”

“Titan, she’s not mine. She’s nobody’s but her own.”

“💜”

“Gross. Can I still be your king (Y/n)!?”

She really starts to settle in as your roommate, helping you with your growing list of chores. Learning alongside to cook with you as you entertain the neighbors that continue to visit so eagerly. Despite letting herself get pushed to the side when they come around she’s really come into herself. Taking the clothes you’ve given her and styling it into something that works for her. Spending time and your money into her appearance. And if that wasn’t great enough she woke up to a curious surprise. 

“AAAAAhhhh!”

“W-what’s wrong!?”

“Milk spots!”

“What?”

“I’ve got milk spots! I’m leaking!”

Turns out all her body needed was a little TLC and it felt the need to lactate better than she’s ever had before. Days in the past spent blissfully walking through your fields are spent milking herself into whatever glasses you have. As it continues it gets worse better enough so that she eventually has to call on you to help. It’s a tad awkward for her to fling the maternity breast pump you bought for her as she demands you do it for her. 

“E-eudora c’mon I’ve never done anything like this I’m not going to—”

“NO!! I NEED YOU TO DO THIS! Otherwise it’s going to take all day!”

So there goes an hour in the morning to help her release the gallons of milk her happy body produces. Constantly hearing the wanton moans of the cow woman you’re doing such a big favor. When you're finished, you have Tank frantically sniffing you both for some odd reason as he comments about the suspicious noises he was hearing.....from miles away. Eudora doesn’t bother clearing up the misunderstanding you just aren’t picking up on.

“So I believe you too were awfully loud this morning”

“Oh, you heard us, did you? Lucky dog, I’m sure you wish you were in my position.”

“Uhm I don’t know why Tank would want to do what you were doing.”

Tank is whining. “It doesn’t smell like what I think it was.”

“Ha just because you can’t smell it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Well if you’re smelling milk then that’s accurate. Eudora made way more than we can cook with so we’re going to take it to the market today.” 

“oh…milk….The kind that comes from-?”

“Her? Yeah. What kind of milk could I be talking about?”

“Come on, (Y/n)! We’re going to lose daylight talking to him.”

“I–I–wanna come too!”

With all the publicity from the suddenly amazing milk from the odd human that’s recently moved in floats around. Of course, the sweaty gross billy goat is circling back to your place. Spitting and pointing when you finally come out to the enraged short man. The cow woman and the dog boys on your property at the time are all on guard.

“I want ‘em back! You cheated me you hairless skank!!!”

“You can’t have her if she doesn’t want to go!”

“Why you–”

“Grrrr!”

“Wait (Y/n)...I’ll handle this.”

She agrees to go with him. Kissing you on the cheek as she promises she’ll return by tonight. It feels like you’ve failed as she walks into the passenger seat with her now confident strut and proud smile in an outfit she feels comfortable in. It feels like you’ve lost that is until that rickety truck pulls up again in the dead of night. Tiffany staying up with you after attempting to put you to sleep and joining you as you run to see if your friend truly had returned. 

“I’m back~!” 

“Eudora!” 

The hug is your victory and it’s also a little off center. 

“Uh, heels?”

“A gift from the girls back home. Turns out the ownership of the farm was recently called into question and I’ve recently been included in a new business venture. An opening was recently made.” 

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in back there?”

Eudora hates how eager Mama Tiffany sounds with her speeding tail.

Eudora delights in the wagging slowing down with her next words

“No, I just figure I’ll be contributing a bit more to the home. Is that alright (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I’m so proud of you Eudora!”

Mama Tiff is livid along with her sons as she watches the cow-woman move in with designer bags and start paying to reinforce the fence on your property starting with the flap Titan loves sneaking in through. From then on she too comes with you when you head into town, not afraid to pull down her designer pink glasses to verbally put down anyone still brave enough to talk down to you. But by now it isn’t all hateful talks, she’s still chasing off anyone with mildly too positive intentions.

“Look feline if you don’t back off now I might be convinced not to starve your family.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Ah, but I can. Would you like to see?”

She’s sure she doesn’t need the extra help from your puppy neighbors but she’ll take it. If only to keep her nails clean, she’ll stick to her own strengths. Happily pulling you behind your market stalls because she desperately needs to be milked. She only trusts you–her human to do such a thing. No one else in this town is worthy of squeezing the liquid magic she can create than you– her dear one and only human.

“Come (Y/n) I need you. You are my special human—the only human I trust to help me fuel my empire. You won’t refuse me, right?”

Part 3: Here

Taglist: @midnight-nightmares @xrenka @candlesworlds-blog @00hellohello00 @lem-hhn @kawaii-cakes

[ariasakka]

Viktor arcane smut

Talks of body insecurity, smut, fluff, 18+, female reader, similar/same age as Viktor, pussy eating, etc

Nobody has been able to make you cum before. Your best friend Viktor can help you with that.

If anything in this makes you uncomfortable at any point please don’t continue to read. <3

Enjoy ;)

Viktor is your best friend and has been in love with you for years. Jayce keeps hitting on you but you don’t like him. Viktor feels a little jealous every time someone flirts with you especially Jayce but tries not to let it be seen.

You often spend the night at Viktors place because hes your only friend and you’re his closest friend.

You and Viktor were gifted some fancy drinks after presenting your new idea to the council. You both go back to his place after and decide to celebrate. That and neither of you really feel like being alone. After all you both get along with each other better than anyone else. No one knows the two of you better than one another. Late night talks are always both of your favorite. After a few glasses of the worst alcoholic beverage you and Viktor have ever tasted you both lay down on his bed feeling tipsy and exhausted.

Viktor

“I saw Jayce eyeing you all day again.”

You

“Ugh I know, wish he’d leave me alone.”

Viktor chuckles lightly

“You don’t like him back at all? Not even a little?”

You

“I don’t want Jayce. He’s barely even an acquaintance in my eyes. I’ve always gone for men like Jayce. Not because I find any of them attractive but because I feel like I have to. To feel more feminine…or maybe not even just feminine. I guess more petite next to them? Womanly? Weak? I don’t know. None of them have ever been able to make me finish either. But I guess that’s my fault. It can’t be this hard to cum for other women. I don’t really see a point in dating if I don’t find hardly any men attractive plus they don’t satisfy me at all regardless of the non existent orgasm.”

Viktor

“Have you seriously never came with someone else before?”

You

“…no”

Viktor

“Does foreplay not make it easier? Or at the very least more enjoyable?”

You laugh

“Foreplay? That only exists in fiction. Men are not into that thing.”

Viktor

“Boys are not into that sort of thing. What about oral? Clitoral stimulation with the tongue? I feel as though that can always do the job. It’s not too rough nor too gentle. It’s quite intimate and romantic at the same time.”

You

“Um…no man I’ve been with as ever been into that.”

Viktor

“What?!”

You

“Not necessarily because of me they’ve always just said they don’t do that to any woman because “it’s weird” or whatever.”

Viktor sighs

“Let me guess they request oral from their women though.”

You

“Um well….i suppose..”

Viktor

“I feel sorry for you. I assure you men who are actually interested in women don’t prioritize their cock.”

You

“Then what would they even get out of sex if not that?!”

Viktor

“Do you really think men can’t enjoy sex if their dick isn’t involved in the equation?”

You

“Well yes. All men are like that. Aren’t they?..”

Viktor

“Absolutely not. Again men *who are actually into women* will be just as if not more satisfied with his face inbetween her legs.”

You

“…”

Viktor

“Real men have far more enjoyment with foreplay or oral, etcetera than just boring average penetration. It is not impossible for you to cum. You have just been unlucky with men who should look into fucking men or better yet themselves.”

You

“I guess. I’m still convincing myself it’s impossible though.”

Viktor

“Tsk. Jayce is nice but he would probably not know how to satisfy a woman so I suppose you are dodging a bullet there my friend.”

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

Viktor

“Well…what about Jayce’s looks? Do you like him in that regard?”

You

“He’s far from my type in looks as-well.”

Viktor teases

“Do you prefer even more muscular men then?”

You laugh

“Absolutely not! Quite the opposite actually but i always feel huge next to them. If I found a man i actually like he’d never go for someone like me. If he wouldn’t find my body unattractive he’d probably be put off by my strength. Men are always so inscure when I’m stronger than them..”

Viktor feels a warm feeling in his chest when he hears you say “quite the opposite” in hopes he’s closer to your type. That feeling quickly fades when he hears you insult yourself.

Viktor

“You can’t possibly think that can you?!���

You

“What?”

Viktor moves his face closer to yours on the bed in annoyance. He has to make sure you actually hear his words. Take them in. Believe them. You putting yourself down like this is making his head spin.

Viktor

“One you can’t possibly think you’re big. You’re quite small. For Christ sake you’re average height. Two you do not have to be this stupid beauty standard of stick and bone to be beautiful. Three you’re far from huge. Thats never once been a thought in my mind. Four you’re strong. Very strong but any man put off by that is a weak one!”

You

“There are women smaller.”

Viktor

“And you’re still the most beautiful one of them all.”

You

“You don’t have to be nice to me Viktor. I’m just rambling nonsense.”

Viktor

“All women have their own insecurities of course but I truly mean it. I do. You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I truly mean that. I’ve always thought that. I can’t possibly understand how you could think differently.”

You

“I-“

As he was talking he didn’t notice his face had gotten so close you yours now that your his nose was brushing against your cheek. He was so mesmerized with your beauty. So taken aback that you couldn’t see what he saw that with every word he spoke he grew closer and closer to you getting lost in your beauty. He can feel your warm breath against his face. He can hear every shaky breath you take. He was unsure before if you’d ever feel for him an ounce of what he felt for you. In that moment he knew you felt something. He could tell with every fiber of his being. He didn’t care if you felt the exact same intensity for him as he did for you at least he knew you felt something for him and that was enough. All he wanted to do was to please you. Make your legs shake. To make you feel loved. To cherish you. To hold you.

You both paused for a moment. He was lost in thought of you. Before you had time to respond he placed a gentle kiss on your warm lips. To his surprise you reciprocated. You gently tugged on his shirt pulling him in for more. He had always been your type. Always been the one you wanted. What you needed. You were too afraid to ever let him know before. Worried he wouldn’t feel the same way. Most importantly even more worried to push away your best friend. Your only friend. You didn’t know if what Viktor was feeling was just lust or love. The way he was kissing you. The way he was talking to you. It couldn’t help but make you feel as though it was both. You had never felt something this intense. Not even sex made your body react this way. You never wanted it to end.

Viktor felt intoxicated and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. Viktor hovered his hand above your waist desperately wanting to feel your skin with his hands but waited for your okay. You gave him a nod in approval when you saw his hand. With your nod he places his thin fingers on your waist gently tracing them under your shirt. Viktor pulled you closer to him with each kiss until neither of you get any closer together. He couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers into your mouth and tighten his grip on your hip every time you tugged on his shirt.

Viktor pulled away from your lips for a moment. He looked at you with need.

Viktor

“Please, please, I want to make you feel good.”

You

“I- I can’t finish you know that.”

Viktor groans

“I know you can. And if you really can’t at all then I at least know I can make you feel pleasure, please.”

You don’t respond too lost in the way he’s looking up at you with desire.

Viktor traces his fingers gently from your waist down to your legs to your knees then back up again.

Viktor

“I can’t let you live your whole life without feeling pleasure.”

You

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes. Just..do whatever you want.”

Viktor leaves your skirt on. He places soft passionate kisses along your neck while undoing your pants bringing them to your knees. You help him by kicking your pants fully off having them fall to the floor. Viktor slides his hand down on top of your panties and gently traces circles over your clit.

Viktor

“Do you want me to make your pussy feel good?”

You nod in response. You can’t help but moan in excitement as he starts to move his fingers up and down your wet slit over your panties.

You wonder if you’re feeling this good because of his skill or just because it’s Viktor.

Once he can tell you’re soaked, Viktor slowly slides your panties off. Admiring your bare pussy intensely starting to drool a bit at the mouth.

Viktor

“Fuck such a pretty pussy. Can I give it a kiss? Please?”

You

“Mm yes you may.”

Viktor slides himself down on the bed until his face reaches your cunt. He lays on his stomach and presses his face down into your folds. Smothering himself in your juices. He gently traces his tongue along your clit. Gripping your thighs in place as you start to shake from pleasure. You were already feeling so much bliss you couldn’t imagine what on earth an orgasm could feel like. How could you possibly feel better than this.

Once he can tell you’re enjoying this and getting used to the feeling he slides two fingers inside slowly. Gently thrusting them back and forth. Fuck you never knew sex could feel this good. After a while you start to unconsciously buck your hips into his face. When he notices this he starts to scissor his fingers inside of your hole sticking his tongue in between his fingers rapidly licking your insides. With his other hand he gently holds two fingers to your clit. He doesn’t move them, Viktor doesn’t want to overstimulate you too much. The bucking of your hips should stimulate his fingers on your clit enough. Viktor can feel you getting closer and closer to release. His boxers are soaked with precum from the sight of you. The taste of you. The sound of you. If he was to grind into the mattress he could cum in under five minutes but he won’t. He’ll hold back. This is about your pleasure. A few more licks deep in your cunt and your gushing cum all over his face. It doesn’t matter how much you shake his face never leaves your pussy it’s like he’s glued to it. He groans as he tastes your cum. The sight of him licking up every drop is making your brain go numb.

Once he’s cleaned you up he sucks your juices off his fingers before bringing his body up in between your legs. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

Viktor

“Did I do alright?”

You

“You did perfect. I didn’t know I was capable of feeling that good.”

Viktor smirks and says smugly

“I knew you could cum.”

You smack his arm gently in response before wrapping your arms around his back. Holding him tightly. He feels so good like this. You’ve wanted to hold him like this for so long.

You

“Do you..want me to do anything to you?”

Viktor

“No, no. This is all I needed. Do me one favor though?”

You

“Anything.”

Viktor

“Stay here tonight. In my bed. Let me fall asleep in your arms like this. Let me call you mine tomorrow.”

You

“Call me yours?”

Viktor

“Is it not painstakingly obvious I’m in love with you? Do you not feel an ounce of the same?”

You

“I’ve felt the same for a while. I just..I just didn’t think you felt that too. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe it because it would be too good to be true.”

Viktor

“Let me keep being too good to be true. Please. Let me spoil you. As more than a friend. Be mine.”

You

“I’m yours.”

[1800-fight-me]

Safety in Your Arms

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: M (Mature but as always-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Cursing, threats of violence, stranger danger i.e. stalking but don't worry Logan saves the day Word count: A bit over 2k Synopsis: Logan protects you from the unwanted advances of another man and shows protectiveness and care you didn't know he had for you. Author’s note: I'm thinking this might need a part two, let me know what y'all think- I hope you enjoy! P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Logan Howlett Masterlist Main Masterlist

There was a cold panic that shot down your spine. Fight or flight, you’d learned the technical term, but now experienced it for yourself. 

The five minute walk between your work and your apartment had never felt so long. It all started with a creepy customer- which was a regular occurrence at your job- but this customer took it far beyond creepy. 

He tried to make too much small talk, stared too much, made a few too many over the line comments, and was entirely too pushy when asking for your phone number. Your one male coworker escorted him out and you thought that was the end of it. 

Hours went by, you assured your coworkers multiple times that you were fine and you were safe, and eventually you were the last one left to close and lock up. 

But only one block away from your workplace, you had the feeling of being watched- of being followed. And it was just your luck that your phone was dead and you’d forgotten your charger at home.

You changed your route, taking one that was a bit longer but also more well lit and populated. With a glance back you confirmed your worry, that it was in fact the same creepy guy from hours before. 

Your heart pounded with terror as you contemplated every option for safety. Your apartment building required a code to enter, so you sped your walk, hoping if you slipped into the building and shut the door behind you that it would be enough. 

“Hey,” the man’s voice called out, but you refused to look back. 

Your apartment building was within sight, but the man’s catcalls and jeers were also getting louder and closer. 

“Hey, c’mere pretty lady! I’ve got somethin’ for ya!” 

Your whole body shuddered in fear. Your next door neighbor stepped outside of the front door of the apartment building and you nearly sobbed in relief. 

“Logan!” you called out. 

He looked up in surprise, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he saw the stress in your entire demeanor. 

You practically ran to him and threw your arms around his torso in a hug he clearly did not expect. He hugged you back, but you felt him stiffen as he looked behind you. 

That was one thing about Logan, he was extremely perceptive and quick to notice any form of danger. 

“Hey bub, what can I do for you?” he said to the man behind you in a gruff tone that was not at all welcoming as he gently maneuvered you so that you stood safely behind him. 

You gripped Logan’s strong bicep as you peered around his shoulder at the stalker. 

“I was just-” 

“Just nothin’. You better leave her alone,” Logan interrupted. 

“C’mon, I was just inviting the pretty lady to have a good time. Does he speak for you?” the creep asked as he made eye contact with you. The malice in his eyes made your heartbeat spike again. 

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said nervously. 

He glanced between you and Logan as if uncertain. 

“She just told you, she’s mine- so fuck off,” Logan growled. A different kind of shiver went down your spine. 

“You live here?” the man asked. 

“No,” Logan growled before you could even open your mouth. “But I do, and if I see you around here again it’ll be a problem.” 

The man looked at Logan and finally seemed to take in the gravity of the situation, the danger that the large muscled man protecting you could pose. 

He gulped and nodded, yielded a step back as Logan took a step forward- muscles tense and fist clenched. 

The man turned and scurried away. You took your first full deep breath in several long minutes. 

Logan watched the man until he was completely out of view before he turned to you. He placed a large comforting hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. 

“Princess,” he said in a gentle voice. 

He pulled you into a hug as a tear fell from your eye and made its way down your cheek. You were enveloped in his warmth and woodsy masculine scent and finally felt safe. 

“Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend,” you said as you pulled back and wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“Anytime,” he said with a smirk. Your breath caught and you bit your lip as you looked up at him and saw such care and concern on his handsome face. 

“Who was that guy?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “Some crazy customer from earlier today, my coworker made him leave, but I guess he came back and waited until I was leaving alone….” 

Logan’s brow furrowed and he gritted his teeth. “That motherfucker,” he growled, “I’m walking you to and from work tomorrow.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“No, I do. And I’ll do it until I’m sure he isn’t gonna bother you anymore. And if he shows up again…” he trailed off as his claws extended from his fist in an action that seemed involuntary due to his rage. 

A shiver ran down your spine. You had no idea Logan felt so protective over you. 

“Thank you,” you said in a soft voice, “I appreciate it.” 

This was not helping your ridiculous crush on your neighbor. From the minute he moved in with your friend Wade, you had heart eyes for him. 

The Wolverine, he took your breath away without even trying. With his large stature, huge muscles, and handsome face- you were a goner. It didn’t matter that he was older, way out of your league, and generally altogether grumpy. You were head over heels for him, and you were certain he had never noticed you before, that he merely thought you were Wade’s annoying friend. 

But you adored him, you adored the gentle heart you knew he buried under that gruff exterior, and displays of protectiveness such as this only proved what an amazing person you already knew he was. 

“I’m headed to meet Wade at the bar, d’you wanna come?” he offered. 

You nodded eagerly, not wanting to be alone after the stress of the day. 

“Lead the way,” you said with a smile. 

—--------

“Look who I brought,” Logan said as you walked behind him into the bar and approached a booth in the back corner. 

He stepped to the side so your friends could see you. Wade, Vanessa, and Dopinder sat at the table, already laughing and drinking beer. 

Wade gasped dramatically and exclaimed, “Princess Cupcake!” 

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrayed you and showed your amusement. 

“Hey Wade,” you replied then greeted the others. 

“What? No comeback? I’m hurt! What’s wrong?” he asked, speaking in that way too fast pattern that was his norm. 

Logan placed a hand on your back and leaned down closer to your ear as he asked quietly, “You wanna sit down? I can get you a drink- what do you want?” 

You smiled and sat down as you were told and told him your drink order. 

Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows at you in a rather suggestive manner. 

“What’s up between you and peanut? Did you finally fu-” 

“No,” you interjected quickly. 

“Wade, she’s clearly upset and Logan is helping her,” Vanessa said as she elbowed her boyfriend. 

You sighed and explained the events of your afternoon. During your explanation Logan came back to the table with two drinks and sat next to you. His large form crowded you into the corner of the booth, but you didn’t mind. 

“That motherfucker,” Wade said in anger at the end of your story. Vanessa gave you a look of solidarity, you knew she had experienced plenty of creepy men in her life. 

“That’s what I said,” Logan replied, clearly somewhat amused. 

“We should kill him,” Dopinder said.

“Calm down wannabe-vigilante,” you muttered which caused everyone to chuckle. 

“Don’t worry cupcake, ole honey badger and I will make sure you’re safe,” Wade reassured. 

You nodded and said, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think he’ll return. Logan can be pretty intimidating, it was amazing - I’m sure he scared him off.”

Logan grunted in agreement, although when you looked at him you could’ve sworn there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and the tops of his ears. 

As the evening stretched on, you were thoroughly distracted from your troubles and amused by Wade’s antics and Dopinder’s stories. 

“So, Princess Cupcake, any luck on the dating front?” Wade asked. 

You tugged at the sleeves of your shirt- a nervous habit, and without looking up from the table said, “Nope.” 

Logan let out a soft sigh of what your aching heart could only hope was relief. 

“I’ve never asked, what’s with the nickname?” Dopinder asked. 

You shrugged and gestured to Wade. 

“When Blind Al and I moved into our apartment this sweetie pie here brought us cupcakes!” Wade explained. 

“Good thing it was cupcakes instead of a pie because being constantly called sweetie pie would make me want to die,” you muttered and everyone laughed. 

“What about the princess part though?” Dopinder asked. 

“Just look at her,” Logan mumbled and you and everyone at the table looked over at him in surprise. 

“She’s got that innocent sort of pretty you only see in big bright eyed animated Disney princesses,” Wade said. 

Embarrassed at the attention you changed the subject immediately. Your constant filthy thoughts about Logan proved you were anything but innocent. 

“But why is Logan’s nickname peanut?” you asked quickly. 

Wade shrugged, “Just fits.” 

Logan rolled his eyes. 

You smirked and said, “I bet we could come up with a hundred nicknames for him that would fit better.” 

“Like what?” Wade challenged. 

You glanced over at the large handsome man sitting next to you as your face warmed. 

Daddy was the first word that came to mind. Wade chuckled in a way that made you momentarily worried that mind reading was one of his mutant abilities. 

The silence at the table stretched on, becoming a tad awkward, before you said, “Nevermind I’m not very good with nicknames anyways.” 

“Yeah, it’s probably best to leave choosing nicknames to the professional,” Vanessa said in a joking tone to ease the tension. You shot her a look of gratitude and she winked at you before she effectively changed the subject all together. 

Eventually, after enough drinks and conversation, you declared that it was time for you to go home. 

“C’mon!” Wade protested. “The night has just begun!” 

“I wish I could stay but I’ve got work in the morning.” 

“I’ll walk you home,” Logan said in a soft but firm tone that left no room for argument as he stood and took a step back to give you room to get out of the booth. 

You nodded in agreement and smiled in pleasant surprise as he offered you his arm. You wrapped your arm around his large bicep and linked your elbows as you followed him out into the cold winter air. 

The city glowed in warm orange light that reflected on the wet pavement. Your breath was visible in frostbitten wind, and you shivered slightly which caused you to burrow further into your coat and move closer to Logan and the heat his body provided. 

He then pulled his arm from yours, causing you to momentarily panic, but just as swiftly he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

You smiled and filled the short walk with endless chatter, you used to worry that your yapping irritated him, but the small uptick of his lips- the ghost of a smile- showed fond amusement and filled you with warmth enough to make you forget about the cold. 

“What time do you leave for work in the morning?” Logan asked as you reached the door of your apartment- his apartment door only a few steps away. 

“Eight o’clock,” you replied as you unlocked the door.

“But really, you don’t have to-”

“I’ll see you then,” he interrupted in a tone that indicated you would not win this argument. 

Then he did something you didn’t expect at all, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead. 

You grinned, your smile wider than probably ever before as you said, “Goodnight Logan, see you bright and bleary eyed tomorrow.” 

He chuckled as he bid you goodnight and you walked into your apartment and shut the door only after he smiled at you again before disappearing behind his own door. 

You shut your door and locked it before leaning against it. You muffled your squeal of excitement with your hand- all too aware how thin the walls are. The stressful events of the day completely forgotten. 

[pedrospatch]

flutter

Jackson! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello lovely <3

Can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad run in with infected on a patrol and then when Joel comes home to find her all panicked he comforts her, gets her cleaned up and into bed .etc. ??

Thank you🥰

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

contains non-explicit nudity

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary After a brush with death while on patrol, Joel assures you and himself that you're still here as you wind down for the night [outbreak, fluff, 3.3k]

A/N Thank you so much for this amazing request, anon! This is my first fic of 2025, and I appreciate your patience as I took a little break to transition into the new year. I’ve decided to make this fic a part of the From Here on Out universe. I hope you guys enjoy! 

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Chatter and swells of laughter rest at a minimum amid the Tipsy Bison. Only half the usual Friday night patrons have trickled in so far, peppered around the establishment with drinks in hand. The air is thick with the scent of sharp spirits and stale beer. String lights cast everything in a dim, warm glow. 

Beneath the clunk of Joel’s booted footsteps, the floor is sticky. A few nods are directed his way as he saunters towards the bar, which he returns with a tip of his cowboy hat. In the ten months since he arrived in Jackson, he’d built up a reputation for himself. One that was revered and feared all the same. Fading into the background wasn’t an option anymore. 

If folks still didn’t know his name, they undoubtedly recognized him when he walked into the room. That easy, measured stride. Those brows oftentimes furrowed in thought. Those dark, knowing eyes that were humble enough to know he had a lot more to learn. 

The older man wiping down the counter tosses the rag over his shoulder as Joel approaches. Old stains are splotched down the front of his white shirt. But he’s happy to see Joel. A quiet, jazzy piano melody flows from the billiard room. 

“Howdy Clyde,” Joel drawls as he sits. A few barstools down, a pair of friends talk over beer. “You hiding Duke Ellington back there?” 

The man snorts with a shake of his head. “Good ol’ Dennis. Does this a few times a year,” he says. “Comes in, drinks, plays like it’s paying.” 

Joel gazes through the archway to where a couple people shoot pool. Dennis and the piano are just within sight.

“He ain’t too shabby,” Joel says. 

“Not at all,” Clyde agrees. “‘scuse me for a second.” 

Joel listens to the piano as Clyde goes to refill beers. 

He knows you’d appreciate Dennis’ playing. You were drawn to live music like a moth to a flame. Joel realizes then that he misses you. It’s a peculiar feeling that always seems to compound by the end of the day after being apart. You patrolled together when you could, but he’d been on the roster to volunteer at the community stables today. 

It was good, honest work. Peaceful too. There was no need to be on guard, and he didn’t have to talk to anyone unless someone was particularly keen on striking up a conversation. Being with the animals did a lot more for him than he’d ever expressed out loud. 

Back in front of Joel, Clyde braces his thick weathered hands on the counter, “So how’s Alamo? Came bearing good news for me, I hope.” An attentive furrow has formed between his bushy brows. 

Alamo, Cldye’s Stallion, was recovering from what the veterinarians diagnosed as a mild case of the flu. 

“He’s doing much better,” Joel assures. “Got him to eat and drink more than yesterday. He let me lead him around the corral for a couple laps.” 

Clyde’s eyes are grateful. “Thank God. I don’t know how you do it, man.” Joel smiles at the man’s relief.  “What can I get you?” He quirks his thumb to the wall of bottles behind himself. 

There’s a decent selection. Moonshine, applejack, mead—whiskey, which always sounds particularly good these days. 

Joel purses his lips in brief consideration before saying, “I’m okay tonight. Gotta get home to my lady.” 

Clyde hums in understanding. “Smart man,” he says. “I’ll catch you later.”

Outside, it’s cold enough for Joel to see the frost of his breath. People bundled in coats, hats, and scarves mill around because, despite the chill, it’s just another evening in Jackson. Snow still covers the ground from last week’s snowfall, and more is due any day now. The sky is white with promise as the last of the sun’s light lingers near the horizon amid dustings of pink. 

The community center buzzes with life as he passes by. A few people talk outside, and multiple heads can be seen through the windows. Just as he’s about to avert his gaze and continue on his way, his brother bursts through the doors. 

Tommy lifts his hand to signal him to wait even though Joel doesn’t intend to keep walking away. Relief is etched all across his face. 

“There you are,” he claps his gloved hand onto Joel’s shoulder. “You’re a hard man to find when you wanna be.” The slightly frazzled tone of his voice contrasts the casualness of his words. 

Worry stirs within Joel as he meets his brother’s gaze. “Hey. What going on?” 

Tommy wets his lips as he considers how to phrase the news. “Before you freak out, everybody’s alright,” he starts. “Just a bit shaken up.” 

Joel swallows the lump in his throat. He already knows it’s about you. He wishes he were wrong, but wishing never changed what his gut already knew was cemented in time. 

“Your girl and her patrol partner had a run in with some Clickers earlier this evening while they were out,” Tommy continues, and Joel’s jaw tricks. “No bites, thank God. And they managed to take ‘em all down.” 

An avalanche of guilty, frustrated, and relieved thoughts crash onto Joel all at once. Tommy loosely follows after him as he takes a few composing steps away to run a hand down his beard. Heat has risen in his face to the point where it almost doesn’t feel cold anymore. He can hear his heart in his ears.

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks. It almost sounds like there’s a small ball of cotton stuck in his throat. 

“At your place with Ellie. Her uncle Nate dropped by too,” he says. “She was askin’ for you, and I told ‘em you were on the way.”

It’s days like this that make Joel wish you hadn’t rejoined the patrolling rotation. With or without him. 

He’s is about to walk away, when Tommy adds, “She handled herself mighty fine out there. Both of  ‘em did.” 

•••

Death was no stranger to anyone in Jackson, but you’d never stared so directly into the face of a being that embodied such a definite, unyielding sense of finality. Never seen fungal decay so intimately that it made your skin crawl from the inside out. 

There had been four Clickers earlier that evening. Three taken out by your partner, Langdon, and the final one by you after tumbling to the ground. 

In your struggle, chunks of snow had crept into your jacket and dusted across your face. The bitter chill hardly registered from the moment your back hit the ground. Neither did the sound of your pistol firing as the hulking, distorted figure begin to crawl overtop of you. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat like a heavy tribal drum in your ears. Endure, survive, endure, survive. 

Only after Langdon drug you from beneath the limp Clicker, and hauled you to your feet, did you realize you were releasing frantic sob-like whines with every exhale. 

The entire scene won’t stop playing in your head. Electricity still hums beneath your skin. 

“Joel should be here soon,” Ellie assures again, in part for herself. 

He was always better in situations like these. Always knew what to say because he’d lived these same horrors himself, not a handful of times like she had, but countless since 2003. When it came to providing comfort, she always felt as though she was blindly grasping for the next right thing to say or do. 

But you were grateful to have her here all the same. If nothing else, she knew how to sit and be present. And after being asked to share an account of what happened by countless members of the patrol board, being with her as you wait for Joel is the peace you need. 

When you notice the worried way she’s chewing on her lower lip, you reach out for the glass of water she’d sat on the coffee table for you. You take one shaky sip and realize you’re a lot thirstier than you though you were. You drain it in a few big gulps. Ellie straightens up with a sense of having something right. 

“I’ll go get some more,” she says, taking the cup from you. 

Creaks arise on the porch soon after she heads to the kitchen. Then comes the faint jingling of keys. Joel pushes through the front door with a concerned furrow between his brows. It smooths when his eyes fall on you sitting in the living room. 

You look as small as you feel.

Aside from the absence of the sparkle that usually shone in your eyes, you seem as alright as you can be. Which is a much better than the image he’d conjured up in his head, despite Tommy insisting you’d made it back in one piece. 

“Hey,” he greets, carefully, like he’s talking to animal seconds away from curling in on itself. Like that’s all the bass he can muster into his voice.

“Hi,” you murmur, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it up. His hair is curled at his ears and a little disheveled when he takes his hat off. 

The floor creaks under his footsteps as he walks to occupy Ellie’s former place. Without uttering a single word, he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

You press your nose into his shirt like there’s no other place it belongs. He smells faintly of sweat, but mostly of the outdoors. Like air and earth. Breath and constance. Life. So warm, you forget all about the chill that has crept into the room. 

Ellie’s relieved to walk back in to the sight of Joel sitting with you. Your eyes have fluttered closed, so you only hear the sound of the refilled glass being set on the table. Joel meets the girl’s gaze with an appreciative nod. Thanks, kid. You did good. 

“I’m supposed to volunteer at craft night, but I can stay,” she offers. 

You peek up from Joel’s chest. “It’s okay.” 

“Are you sure?” She asks, and you nod. 

“Thank you,” you say honestly. 

“I’ll make you something cool,” she promises. 

When the door clicks shut behind her, silence settles between you and Joel as you rest in his arms. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, the faint, steady beating of his heart. It says he’s here, you’re here. 

Even with your body cradled in his arms, the thought of losing you haunts his consciousness. Makes tension root through his shoulders, until he takes one long inhale and lets it out. As if shedding the remnants of fear, and dispelling it from his being. 

You can feel him letting his anxiety go, only for it to manifest as guilt within your own chest. 

“We were being careful,” you say, then swallow because the next words are harder to get out,  “They—they came out of nowhere.” 

Apology plagues your tone, and he knows he’s the reason why.  

On more than one occasion, perhaps to his own fault, Joel expressed that he’d rather you not patrol. There were countless volunteer opportunities around the commune, but after meeting him, you expressed your desire to start going out again. 

For the first couple months, you were only ever partnered with Joel because he insisted. It became something you did together, getting to protect the people you love and absorb the beauty of Jackson beyond the commune limits. 

Slowly, he came around to the idea of you being partnered with different people as he picked up other volunteer work.  

Now that you’d had your first close call, you can’t help but consider the possibility that Joel had seen a certain weakness within you all along. Maybe you aren't as vigilant as you thought, or a skilled shooter, or truly capable of holding your own. If it had been Joel, the Clickers probably wouldn’t even of made it within a thirty yard radius before they were shot down—

“Sweetheart? Hey, look at me,” he pulls away so he knows he has your attention. Except, he hasn’t exactly pieced together what he wants to say. 

After releasing a breath, he meets your gaze with an apologetic look of his own. 

“I know you were careful.” His tone is warm with sincerity. “You ain’t gotta justify anything to me.” When you don’t say anything, he keeps talking, “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” His dark eyes are earnest, hopeful as they flit across your face. 

You nod, and he wants to believe you’ve let his words sink in. 

“There ain’t a single person in this commune who knows what’s gonna happen when they step outside those gates,” he says. “Best thing anyone can be is prepared, and that’s exactly what you were out there today.”

Joel’s not expecting a response, but he can tell he’s finally gotten through. 

He takes your hand in his and presses soft kisses over your knuckles. After letting go, he eases off the couch to kneel at your feet. You admire the slight hunch of his shoulders as he moves to untie your boots, the delicate way he handles the laces as if they’re somehow a fragile extension of you. 

When he’s done, you angle your feet to make it easier for him to pull the boots off. Even then, he doesn’t stand up. He stays on his knees so you’re eye to eye. 

“How’s a shower sound?” He gently squeezes your knee and waits to follow your lead. 

It’s an illusion of control he’s offering for your sake. Really, it’s all him. After everything today, all you want to do is let go. Follow someone you know you can trust. Someone who always knows how to lead the way.

•••

Joel gets the shower started and, before long, both of you have stripped to your undergarments. He watches as you begin to pull your sports bra over your head, and helps you on the tail end because the strong elastic won’t set you free. 

You don’t meet his gaze again until after you’ve stepped out of your panties. Joel’s eyes rove over you with a quiet, fond attentiveness, and you realize he’s looking for bruises or any sign you’re in pain. 

“I’m okay,” you manage a small smile. 

“Okay,” he says, then runs a hand through his hair as if he still hasn’t quite accepted that you are. His bicep flexes as he does. The expanse of his chest is broad, dusted with dark hair. 

“I promise.” 

Finally, he nods like he believes you. “Go ahead and get in. See you shivering.” The bathroom hasn’t quite warmed up yet, and the window is drafty. Joel makes a mental note to get it resealed. 

You waist no time doing just that. A deep hum escapes you as the water meets your skin. 

From behind the curtain, you can make out the outline of Joel’s figure as he pushes his boxers down his legs. Over the sound of the running water, you can just barely hear him gathering your clothes to go put them in the hamper. 

When he joins you, there’s a gentleness to the way he lathers your body with soap. A diligence. The steam lifting around you carries the light, earthy scent of lemon balm. You let him run the bath sponge along your arms as the warm spray of the shower patters onto your back. 

When he’s done, you wrap your arms around him so the front of your bodies are pressed together. Without pause, he graces the sponge across your shoulderblades before gliding it down your back. He continues all the way down the curve of your backside. You pucker your lips against the front of his shoulder in a pert kiss. He kisses your forehead in return. 

It’s a miracle your legs have held you up thus far. If you were to let yourself go limp, a small part of you likes to believe you’d somehow float. That’s how relaxed you feel. But you have half a mind not to test the theory. The thought makes you chuckle, and Joel peeks down at you with a budding smile of his own. 

“What?” he asks lightly, but you shake your head and close your eyes. “Don’t fall asleep on me.” 

“‘M’not,” you murmur. 

Joel hums in feigned disbelief.  “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” He puts a hand on your hip in a silent request for you to turn around. 

When you do, he snakes an arm around your waist. Behind you, he’s a promise. All muscle, warmth, and wet skin. He runs the sponge over your breasts before dipping down to gently run along the undersides.

Your eyes flutter closed again, just as he presses his soft lips to the pulse beating beneath your ear. The shiver that tumbles down your spine makes you lean back into him, and he’s right there holding you up, getting you clean, weaving you so surely into the fabric of the present. 

He lets you do the same for him. Allows himself to relish the gentleness of your touch. 

Touching his forehead to yours, his voice is thick as he whispers, “Glad you’re okay.” 

The two of you stay in the shower long after you’re clean. 

Until the water runs cold. 

•••

The mattress dips as Joel crawls into his side of the bed. Per your request, candles burn on both of your nightstands, bright enough to provide a glow to see each other’s faces. His warmth is behind you before long, chest to your back as he drapes an arm over your waist.  It’s a reminder that he’ll never let go. 

The room is quiet aside from your breaths and the occasional creaks of the walls. You rest a hand over Joel’s to run your thumb over his skin and along the bumps of his knuckles. 

“I’m terrible,” you say all of a sudden. Joel shifts behind you, prepared to counter even without the full context, but you you continue, “I never asked about your day.”

Joel gives you a squeeze. “Probably would’ve bored you to half to death anyways.” 

A small smile buds on your face. “Half alive is better than nothing,” you say. 

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating straight into you. You’d wage wars to hear that sound. Cross oceans to reach it again. Joel feels you shake with a small laugh of your own, and it further solidifies that you’re going to be alright. 

“Let’s see,” he decides to humor you after a brief moment of silence. You turn around in his arms and touch your feet to his beneath the sheets.

“Everything went well at the stables,” he says. “Alamo's doing a lot better. Stopped by the Tipsy Bison to tell Clyde on my way home.” You can here the tiredness in his voice, making it gruffer. 

“Aww, really?” 

Joel hums and places a hand on your hip. He draws smalls circles with his thumb. 

“He’s such a beautiful horse,” you think aloud. His coat is as black as the night. 

“I’m starting to notice a pattern,” you slip your hand beneath the hem of Joel’s shirt to splay over his side.

“What might that be?” he asks. 

“You making everything better. People, animals...” 

Joel huffs an amused breath through his nose, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe not everything, but he sure as hell knows he’ll never stop showing up. 

You scoot closer to him and allow your lips to find his amid the candlelight. Slow and steady like you’ve got forever. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

Check out the From Here on Out Masterlist for more of this reader and Joel.

GENERAL MASTERLIST

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here.