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covetyou · 1 year

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the best of the world in the palm of our hands

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), pussy spanking, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (f receiving), cumplay, anal play (blink and you'll miss it), derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, joel miller is a massive slut word count: 4.9k chapter summary: You find a way to pay your fathers debts

A/N: pussy spanking! lets go! you know the old saying, open mind open legs.

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song: damage gets done by Hozier

Your dad had been rationing his pain meds for months, barely taking one every two days now that the world had gone to shit and they were so much harder to come by - and so much more expensive as a result. Lean times were made leaner still by missed shifts and slow work, which meant for even fewer pills to ration out.

Eventually, you would listen, night after night, as he groaned and writhed in pain, meds long gone. Nights like that meant another missed shift, fewer ration cards, and the ever looming threat of debtors coming to collect on what was theirs.

That was the situation that had brought you here, to his door. Desperation, and a debt needing to be paid.

Your knock on the door sounds sharp in the silence of the hallway. You're in a "nicer" part of the QZ - the apartment block cleaner and less crammed full of bodies than others. Here there are fewer people to care, fewer people to see. Fewer people to hear you scream.

The door in front of you suddenly flies open and you wretch you head around, straightening your back. You'd told yourself you'd play it cool, but already you were failing.

Joel Miller, self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer, stands before you. He's tall and broad, taking up almost the entire doorway as he rests one hand on top of the frame. He ticks one hip to the side and tucks his fingers through his belt loops.

You'd seen him from a distance, people pointing with whispers of "that's him", but never up close. Flecks of gray dance around the scruff on his jaw, his dark brown eyes wrinkling as he assesses you. The firm expanse of him so much more intimidating from this distance, you square yourself before you speak.

"I -" you begin, but he immediately cuts you off.

"I don't do business in the hallway," he drawls. "This is business, right?" he quirks a dark eyebrow at you.

You nod, all words snatched from your brain. You'd never heard him before - his southern drawl sounding cocky as he sizes you up, standing meek and mild in the corridor.

"S'always business. Come in then, sweetheart," he says, barely moving his body from blocking the doorway for you to squeeze past him. You push yourself against the door frame as much as possible so you don't drag your body along his.

The living room of his apartment is bigger than the entire place you share with your father. As far as you can tell, Joel lives here alone.

The door slams shut behind you, and heavy footsteps walk past you. Joel picks up a bottle and a single glass, pouring himself two fingers of whisky before setting the bottle back down and taking a sip. You knew you would be vulnerable, coming here alone, but you hadn't taken into account feeling trapped.

"So, what y'here for?"

"M-my dad, he's -"

"I know who your dad is, sweetheart. Seen you together. He owes me. Ain't heard from him in a few weeks. I asked what you're here for, not about your dad."

"Yeah," you nod, trying to feign confidence, "Yeah well, that's why I'm here. He needs more medicine."

"What I gave him weren't medicine, it ain't fixin' shit. I gave him pain relief. That's it."

"Well, he needs more. He's out, and he's hurting, and he can't work - " you ramble, but he cuts you off again.

"Now, sweetheart," he raises a finger to stop you. "I don't see why I should be giving you, or him, anythin'. I owe you nothin', and from where I'm standing, you're the one who owes me. Two weeks worth, right?"

Your eyes go wide. You were hoping he'd make it easier than this - go easy on you because you were a girl and you were here alone. You were hoping to play on his heartstrings, but you were starting to realise that maybe he didn't have one.

His glass thunks down on the table.

He circles you like a predator circles its prey, looking you up and down, assessing for weakness. You stare straight ahead, unwavering as possible.

He stops in front of you, tall and foreboding, before tilting your chin up with a single finger.

"You got the cards for that?"

You shake your head no.

He clicks his tongue, smiles, and says, "That's a damn shame". You have a feeling he doesn't think that at all.

"Dad's been hurting too much, he can't work, we haven't been able to get the cards, I've been trying I - "

"Looks like you'll have to do then," he shrugs, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he leans back against his dining table. "Show me what you can pay me with."

You'd never done this before - well, that was a bit of a lie. You'd done something like this, once, before, with someone else, someone different, someone who probably couldn't hurt you in the ways the massive figure of Joel Miller could hurt you.

You take two small steps toward him, and move to lower to your knees - you'd heard men like him accepted this mode of "payment" all the time - but he grabs your arm in one giant hand before you can make your descent.

You balk at him, "Wha - "

"I don't want a half-hearted blow job, sweetheart," he licks his lips and his thick fingers tug at the hem of your too big t-shirt. "Why don't you take this off. Show me what you can pay me with."

The implication was clear - he didn't want anything you could give him, but you had plenty he could take. Your breath hitches, but you don't let yourself hesitate for long.

Swallowing thickly, you yank your t-shirt over your head and dump it on the floor beside you in one swift action. You're painfully aware that your bra is the least flattering thing you could possibly be wearing - it's soft and old and entirely shapeless, but you weren't expecting to be stripping off for him. You shouldn't even care what he thinks of you but it'd been so long since anyone had seen your bare skin that even this twisted exchange felt like you should've made more of an effort.

You stare directly ahead, not daring to meet his eyes as heat flares in your cheeks. He stalks back to the table and picks up his whisky. You watch him raise it to his lips before he notices you looking. You haven't moved.

He's on you in an instant, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks with force as he directs your eyes to his. The heat still burns through your face, but you feel it start to snake traitorously down your spine.

"I said, show me or do you want me to fuckin' rip the rest off you."

Nodding, you scramble to remove the rest of your clothing. It's not sexy, why fucking would it be, and you fumble with the buttons on your pants longer than you'd like, but eventually you're stood entirely nude for him in his apartment.

A puff of air huffs out if his nose and his face twitches as he appraises you like some kind of show cattle. You don't know if he likes what he sees, but that traitorous drip of warmth down your spine hopes that he does. You can trick yourself into thinking it's because he might go easier on you if he likes you, but the longer you stand there under his gaze the more you don't want him to go easy on you.

"You are a pretty thing," he says, rubbing the scruff of his beard. "I think you got just the thing I need to let your dad off the hook, don't you? Might even throw something else in to sweeten the deal if you're extra good." He strokes your hair, and you try to hold back a shudder of arousal. Maybe he'll think it's fear, and maybe it is. Maybe it's both.

"How's that sound?" he prompts as he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs.

You look at his face, his eyes are dark, darker than before, the way he's looking at you makes that traitorous drip into a flood. "Okay."

He wordlessly grunts as he tugs your hair some more and pushes you toward a door on the otherside of the room, making you walk ahead of him.

Even with his hand in your hair, guiding you, your feet move of their own accord. You want to object, refuse, but you can't. You want this. You want a man like Joel - big, protective, in control - to pay you any attention. Whatever the cost.

One final nudge of your head and you stumble into the room as he releases you.

His bedroom is sparse, as expected. Interior decor went to shit with the end of the world, and Joel didn't seem like the kind of man who would've cared about that before anyway.

You stand at the foot of his bed looking down at your toes as they bunch and un-bunch in the carpet. You hear him come in and close the door. If you weren't trapped before you definitely are now. You don't look up at him, you can't, so your eyes remain fixed at your feet when his step into view.

"You ready to get on the bed for me, sweetheart?" His hand strokes gently across the swell of your breast as he talks to you. It's the first time he's really touched you and the flood down your spine has now gathered into a slick pool between your legs.

You do as you're asked sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling even smaller now as he towers over you. You could have been 8 feet tall and still felt small and vulnerable in this moment, Joel Miller cascading above you fully clothed.

A large hand rests on your shoulder, a gentle pressure pushing you to fall back to the mattress below.

"You lay back now. Relax."

You try not to scoff but you can't help it.

"Ain't goin' to hurt you. What good would that do me. I like my customers alive."

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself with your back flush to the mattress, looking at him as he still hulks above you. You can do this. He'll just... take what he wants. And you'll let him. Then you'll be on your way.

He's still standing above you as he directs you. "Good girl. Now open your legs for me. Lemme see."

You take another deep breathe, hold, and exhale, opening your legs for him just a fraction.

"I'm a patient man, sweetheart, but when I tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it," he growls as he kicks your legs open further. You spread them even wider, wanting to keep on his good side. You're completely exposed and bare for him now. Everything is on display and he still towers over you, looking down at your naked form on his bed.

"Fuckin' beautiful," you think you hear him mutter as he moves to a crouch between your spread thighs. You hold your breath, tensing and try not to clamp your legs shut at his inspection.

"I'm just lookin', sweetheart," Fingers rub calming circles over the softness of your thighs and your legs twitch.

"Keep your fuckin' legs spread," he says with a sharp slap to your thigh. Gasping at the shock, you push your legs to spread as wide as they can. You feel obscene, so open for him and his hand strokes the spot he'd just struck, soothing it.

You were beginning to see how this would go - do exactly as he said and he'd be gentle. Disobey, or be slow on the uptake (patient man my ass) and you'd soon feel the sting of punishment. The thought of that makes you clench around nothing, and you curse under your breath as it's surely now drawn attention to just how wet you are.

You stare up at his yellowed ceiling and hear a chuckle from between your legs - he definitely fucking knows. You don't dare to look down, you just want him to get on with it, until suddenly fingers come dangerously close to your sex and pull you apart, spreading your bare cunt even more for him.

"Well, you're a pretty little thing," he says to your pussy.

The fingers, his thumbs you realise, massage up and down the sides of you, avoiding any direct touch to your folds, but massaging the flesh in such a delicious way that you can't help but feel it right where you need it most.

Joel hums as he moves to his knees, getting closer to your spread cunt, still rubbing his thumbs up and down the sides of you, gradually moving closer and closer to the center of your sex until he's dragging the tips of both thumbs through your wetness and up to the sides of your clit.

You take another deep breath and try to muffle your whimpers with pursed lips, trying to hold back a moan.

"She's likin' that," you hear the amusement in his voice, "I wonder if she'll like this." He moves one of his slicked thumbs directly above your clit and begins to gently stroke. Your hips jerk, unsure if it's toward or away from the pressure of his thumb.

"Oh, she does," and he applies more pressure, circling torturously around your nub as his other hand continues to explore your folds in gentle strokes, parting your opening with two fingers occasionally to see the wetness gathering there, to see how ready for him you are.

"You ever touch yourself like this?" he's talking to you again now, not your cunt.

"N-no," you stutter, as his thumb keeps its languid pace on your clit.

"You don't touch yourself? Y'look well old enough to have done this before."

"No, I-I do, just... not. Not like this."

Joel hesitates for just a moment, fingers stilling, before continuing on. "You like it though." It's not a question. "Tell me how you touch yourself." That wasn't either.

"I don't - I. Fuck," you hiss. You try to relax your grip on the sheets, but his rough thumb on your clit is distractingly good. "I - rub," you pant out.

"With fingers?"

"No," you squeeze your eyes shut. You can't say you expected much from this visit, but telling a stranger how you get yourself off in the dark of the night definitely was not on your list.

"Againstapillow," you mumble, a soft moan being pulled from shortly after as he increases the frequency of his circles on your clit.

"So you're a sweet girl whose sweet pussy only knows soft things?" he hums in thought. "Anything ever been in here?" his index finger circles around your opening, slick now dribbling out of you and being spread around by his thick finger. You must glisten.

You gulp down a sigh. "I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're getting at."

"That's good," he chuckles. "Can't imagine you'd want your first to be like this. Of course a pretty little slut like you has had somethin' in here before." His finger circles more around your hole, barley dipping inside as his well practiced thumb swipes firmly over your swollen clit.

Two thick fingers suddenly plunge into your dripping cunt with ease, stretching you. You pull back with the shock, trying to shuffle up the bed and away at the sudden intrusion, pulling his fingers from you. His hands grip your thighs, anchoring you down and pulling you back toward him.

"Did I say you could fuckin' move?" You shake your head. You didn't even mean to move. It felt good, it shouldn't feel fucking good, you were just surprised.

slap

You hear it before you feel it - a wide hand colliding bluntly with your exposed cunt, sending a sharp stinging, buzzing sensation straight back up your spine. You think your brain shuts off entirely for a second before you gasp for air.

"I know you wanna be good for me. You wanna do right by your sick old dad, right? Help him out of a tough spot?"

His entire palm engulfs your mound with ease, covering you completely as he massages his fingers side to side, easing the sting and jerking your clit in a way that has you rolling your hips and biting back a moan.

"Try getting away again and I'll give your worse than that," you push your pelvis toward him at his words. You really try not to be obvious in your disappointment, you want to be good, but you want it. You want worse. And you know he knows. "But be a good girl and I'll give you exactly what you want. That's why you're here, ain't it?"

Before you can answer he delivers several quick light smacks to your bare pussy. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough send the vibrations through you and straight to your struck clit. He removes his hand to look at your quickly reddening pussy before returning to smack you some more. You gasp, trying desperately to keep still and not moan at the building sensation he's pulling from you - you shouldn't be enjoying any of it at all, let alone this, but fuck you are. There's nothing violent about the way his hand is striking your naked cunt, the light slaps against you turning you on, zinging through you like a tuning fork being tapped on a hard edge.

You hear another laugh from between your legs.

"You've only been givin' it to her soft, sweetheart, when she's just crying out to have it rough."

He spanks your pussy again, this time you can't help the moan that escapes you, your back arching into his quick slap slap slap against your cunt. The speed of his palm slows, but the force increases, drawing obscene noises from you with each blow.

"Uh," the breath huffs out of you with each firm smack to your swollen cunt.

His hand pulls off of you and he spreads you wide again before a warm wet sensation draws up from your fluttering hole to your tender clit in a broad stroke. He's soothing your pussy with soft licks when he latches onto your clit and suckles gently before pulling back to look up at you.

"I like 'em pink like this," he mumbles around your clit, "You're bein' so good takin' it for me."

He's holding your thighs obscenely wide as his tongue lathes your clit, wrenching you open as you wiggle beneath him. You are so close, on the absolute precipice and moments from tipping over the edge, when he pulls from you completely, spreading your cunt open with an his thumbs for inspection once more. The man fucking loves looking at you.

"Look at her twitchin'. I think she likes being spread wide for me, look how wet she is." He dives in for another broad lick, slurping as he goes.

"It's just dripping outa you," he breathes. You feel the warm trickle of wetness drip its well worn path from your pussy and down between the cleft of your cheeks. His finger trails it, and you take in a sharp pull of air when the pad of his finger strokes your tight asshole, spreading your slick across it and causing your legs to twitch closed a fraction once again.

slap. You feel the sting and its aftershocks buzz through you before you hear it. "Keep 'em," slap, "fuckin'," slap, "open!" He soothes your pussy with his full hand again and you moan into him, fisting the sheets at your sides.

"Won't go there today. But don't think I'll be feelin' so generous next time." Next time. He rubs and squeezes your pussy, and you rock your hips into his palm, desperate for more anything.

"You likin' this?" he murmurs, his words almost sounds tender -

- Until another slap rings against your bare sodden skin.

"Answer me."

"Y-Yes!" you gasp out with the next spank to your oversensitive cunt. "Yes, please - I - fuck - please I need to -" slap slap slap slap

Your mind goes blank as a series of slaps are delivered straight to your pussy. A groan is pulled deep from your chest and you spread your legs more for him, pushing into his palm as it rains its gentle smacks down onto you.

"You're goin' to come, ain't you?" he growls out, his smacks getting quicker.

You nod frantically, so fucking close, you shouldn't be so close from this but you are. You're just about to beg for something more, anything more, when the smacks against your pussy get even quicker, and quicker, until he's rubbing frantically at your clit, so swollen from his attention that you practically scream at the sensitivity.

Your orgasm tears through you, drawing a deep guttural sound right from your belly. Your back arches, your dripping hole so neglected as it grips around nothing.

"Fuck," he grinds out from below you, stuffing two fingers quickly into your pussy to feel you grip around them as you rock through your orgasm. You can't see him do it, white blaring across your vision, but you hear the hiss of his breath as he pulls his cock out from his pants.

You whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, stroking himself with the slickness of you. He stands and presses himself between your legs, hot and heavy.

"You want it here?" he says, grinding the heft of his cock against your spent cunt. "'Cause you're making a mess, drippin' all over my sheets without me to plug you up." You're in a daze as you nod, still floating from the intensity of your orgasm as you stare dumbstruck at his rock hard length for the first time. It's so big.

It's too big.

"W-wait, it's too bi- "

"Fuckin' look. Watch as I fuck this into you sweetheart," he growls as he feeds the tip of his cock into you anyway, the solid width of him stretching more than you have ever been before, but your wetness letting him slide right in. He fucks the tip in and out, and you watch him do it.

In previous years you'd had nothing more than clumsy fumbles with men, some drunken, but most just uncaring one night stands with promises of more. There was never more. One way or another you were being used, but this time, and for the first time, you could call it what it was. There was no illusion of care here as Joel took what he wanted and made you watch.

And you liked that. You liked being used by him. You liked letting him do anything he wanted to you.

"I want you to watch her swallow me darlin'. Keep your eyes right there," he pushes his hips forward, the pressure of him filling you immense, and he groans as your cunt gives way to him and swallows him whole. "There she goes. Such a good little pussy for me."

"Keep lookin'," he groans again as he retreats from you only to fuck his full length back inside of you in one swift movement, "You look or I send you out of here jus' like this. See how the locals treat a naked slut in broad daylight."

Your cunt pulses with the threat, and Joel notices. He cocks his brows at you, still relentlessly fucking into you. "Oh, she likes that. You like bein' a slut, huh?"

Fuck yes, you want to scream, but instead you nod meekly, still watching him fuck you, obsessed with the sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over again.

"Good fuckin' girl."

Never once does he lean down to steal a kiss, or swipe his tongue across your bare nipple. You're naked for him but he does nothing with it except pound into your flesh, using your cunt to get himself off. His eyes flit between where he's disappearing into you and your eyes, watching with a sneer as they roll back into your head with each knock to your cervix.

"Fuu-uuck." He's hammering into you now, hips smoothly pounding your pelvis, when he grabs one of your arms and flips you onto your side, pushing your knee up so high it's practically by your ear. He slams back into the hilt again, rocking you back as you moan out wantonly around his cock.

From this angle his cock drags across you in ways you've never felt. You'd seen trees being felled as a kid, a wedge being hammered into a cut far too small to fit. You felt like you were being split, just like those trees.

"Ah - uh, I, Joel, please, I -" tears are in your eyes from how good it feels, the dull throb of the impact into your cervix melting your insides.

Joel brings one of his legs up beside you on the bed, the other planted firmly on the floor, giving himself leverage to fuck so deep and hard into you that the air is knocked out of you for a moment. When you can finally take another breath, you're screaming for him, your pussy creaming around him from the endless pounding.

The sloppy wet sounds of your cunt accepting his battering over and over are eventually taken overby moans being ripped from your throat. His belt rattles about his waist with each smack of his hips into yours, you can feel the metal of his buckle, bitingly cold against your skin.

"That's it - fuck - you just fuckin' take - it. You take this cock." You can feel his balls draw up and his cock twitch inside you as he gets close to bursting. He fucks you relentlessly anyway, desperately holding back as long as he can, until he can hold no more.

He drags his cock sharply from your used cunt, throwing you back onto your back on his mattress. His large hand grips his cock and he jerks it over you.

"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah," he's practically chanting as he jerks himself, letting out a deep stuttery groan when he finally comes, spurting hot cum all over your soft thighs, belly, chest.

He doesn't aim, he doesn't care where he gets it, the action more akin to a dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory than anything else.

The only noise in the room when Joel's shoulders finally relax are your twin heavy breaths, punctuated by light whines that you just can't help. You're so overstimulated that when his hand comes down to your thigh, you don't realize that he's smearing his cum into you until he's rubbing it into your belly, spreading it across the peaks of your tits, up your neck and across your cheek.

He gives you a light tap on the face. "Look at me," he says, swiping a come coated finger across your lips. You're entirely fucked out, all you can do is look dumbly at him, totally cockdrunk.

"What do you say?"

"I... wha-..." you know what he means when he raises his eyebrows threateningly once again. "Th-thank you."

"That's right."

Suddenly he's yanking you up into a seated position and the blood rushes to your head. Another tug, the world spins, and you're on your feet, but you can barely trust your legs. He drags you from the room and before you know it your own clothes are in your arms, the remains of his come dribbling down your body.

"Get dressed," he stands with his arms crossed, looking at you, expectant.

You stare for a moment, totally lost in his dark eyes, before moving to get your clothes back on. You are still covered in his come, your pussy still buzzing from his spanking. At some point, he tucked his cock back into his pants. You didn't even notice, and you try to push down the disappointment of not getting to see it one last time.

Pulling your clothes back on with skin sticky from sweat and come isn't easy, but you eventually manage. When you stuff your feet into your shoes, he grabs you by the arm and drags you toward the door, unlatching it and pushing you toward the exit.

"I'll consider your debt paid," he murmurs into your hair from behind, pushing you out of his apartment a second later.

"Oh and, catch," he throws something to you but you miss, barely even turning in time at his words. It rattles as it hits the ground. Pills.

"Told you I'd give you something if you were good." Confirmation that you were good for him is all you need to feel another gush of wetness between your thighs. You feel like you could come again from his words and the rough feeling of your panties against your abused cunt.

"What do you say?" he asks again.

"Thank you."

He smirks before closing the door in your face.

You lick your lips as you walk away down the empty corridor tasting Joel Miller for the first time, pills in hand and debt paid.

He never even kissed you.

next part

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller/reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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catboybiologist · 9 months

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Hi! I'm Sierra. Time for a pinned post refresh.

Otherwise known as CatboyBiologist, or @hi-sierra (my SFW blog [this one is SFW too, but less so]). This page is remaining active, but if you want to find me somewhere else, I use the same username on reddit, Instagram, co-host, and tech.lgbt. This is me:

Trans woman, PhD student in molecular biology, boymoder, shitposter, freediver, hot girl on your phone, hiker, rambler (this post included), tgirl tummy tuesday supplier and enjoyer, former femboy, bane of bioessentialist fuckwads who try to use biology to validate biogotry, flaming bisexual, 196 nanocelebrity… whatever was the first thing that brought you to my blog, I hope it’s enough to get you to stay! I post selfies, hornyposts (minors and people who are averse to that be warned), stuff about the ocean, posts about my growing sense of wanderlust, my adorable lil tortoise, tutorials for transfemmes and GNC people, rambles about science, documentation of my own transition, rambles about transness, rambles about the eroticism of programming a machine to feel arousal, rambles about nature, and random shitposts. Please send me pictures of cute animals in your life!

If you wanna support my science career and my transition, consider dropping a tip here! PhD salaries are notorious for being negotiated to be exactly the cost of living…. And then forgotten about for years as inflation drops that below minimum wage. So I’m always a little strapped for cash. Anything helps!

Links to some of my tutorials and relevant resources under the cut:

I'm tracking my transition, and some people have said they found this helpful! This spreadsheet is generally updated monthly:

Usually, I write a little journal to go with it when it updates- you can find that under the #trans journal on my blog.

If you're interested in checking out some of the things I'm trying to write, here's a post with links to individual stories I'm making:

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/741010247774306304/writing-consolidation-post?source=share

My femboy guide, written well before I started HRT, but still has relevant info:

A "boyboob" tutorial, aka how to make it look like you have cleavage in an outfit that looks better with it:

A quick and dirty guide to taking better selfies, with a specific emphasis on people who may have stopped hating their body recently due to transition:

And here's a few of my personal favorite little rambles and posts about my transness, in no particular order:

CW for transphobia on this one:

A massive shoutout to @foldingfittedsheets for this amazing art of the lil borgir holding a trans flag:

I adore this so much <3 if you want to support their art, her commissions are open and really sweet!!!!

And of course, a massive shoutout to @whalesharkcat for this lovely pixel art of my tortoise:

I still love this so much, and will continue to into the future <3

For preHRT selfies, search the femboy tag. For post HRT selfies, use the "trans selfie" tag. I've been on HRT since August of 2023, so I'm still very early in the process! Day to day, I present male, but I plan to change that around the 1 year mark.

I guess that's about it! One final note is that I've been alluding to video/podcast style things for a while now. With my aderrall prescription, I've actually put in a lot of research work that might lead to 1-4 of those, so that might actually happen in the near future! No promises of course, life always catches up to you.

And if you liked my previous pinned post better, here it is:

Anyways, if you read this far, thanks for sticking around and bbyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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sprout-fics · 29 days

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And On the Wind, It Howls

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)

Part Seven of Snowblind

Rating: Explicit MDNI 18+ Wordcount: 7.3k Tags: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, There's Only One Bed, Awkward Sexual Situations, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Female Masturbation, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Fluff Warnings: N/A

It’s a soft, overcast Wednesday when you and Ghost set out to Scotland.

You watch the sprawling landscape from the window of the passenger seat, captivated with a small bit of childlike wonder as the car navigates the aging, cracked roads of the Scottish countryside. A dove gray sky- brumous but not yet threatening rain, arches over the tall, rugged peaks of the hills that flank you on either side. Even in the damp cold of early spring the wild, untamed beauty of the Scottish highlands breathes magic bleeding into your veins.

There’s a rawness, a brutality to the Cairngorms that aches heavy in your heart. You feel it in the way water trickles down from the hilltops in small springs, carving its way through dark stone and allowing infant growth to spring forth in green fronds that unfurl like a wistful sigh. Despite the jutting rocks atop the hills, the intimidating slope of the mountains that give rise to the highlands above, the landscape around you breathes with the barest whispers of fresh life. Beautiful, unrestrained, beckoning you to hike higher into the hills.

You take it all in, daring to lift your face to the crack of the window that allows a sliver of wind to slip through. It fills the emptiness inside you, allows you to fill your lungs with air that seems scarce inside the silence of the car.

Beside you, Ghost does not speak as he drives.

You cast a sidelong glance at him. It’s unclear if he ignores your stare or simply doesn’t see it, eyes trained on the road that curves higher into the hills. There’s a murmur of tension in his shoulders under his jacket, the hood drawn up despite the balaclava that covers all but his eyes. Without the smear of paint and the hard plastic skull you can see the pale skin underneath, the awkward curve of his nose that speaks of a bone broken one too many times. If you look closely enough you can see the silvery pink of a jagged scar that runs from the bridge of his nose to his right eyebrow, the traces of burn scars, and the smattering of soft freckles under his eyes.

Even in the daytime, the vision of his moonlit face haunts your dreams.

It’s not entirely a coincidence the two of you are together, but it certainly is unexpected. When Price had brought up the topic of leave following the team’s most recent deployment, you’d felt the men around you silently take a breath of relief. It felt like ever since you’d gotten back to the team you’d barely had more than eight hours of rest before being sent out again. You’d barely gotten six hours of sleep after getting back from your disastrous helicopter mission before Price had the five of you boarding a chopper to go hunt down an arms supplier south of Georgia.

The next week and a half was spent existing on MREs and substandard rations while you camped out in spider infested safehouses, counted your limited ammo supply and spared precious radio hours to inquire about supply drops. You’d found your target, eventually, and thankfully he’d croaked not too long into the makeshift interrogation. It had only taken Ghost two of the man’s separated fingers before he’d finally given you the lead on your target.

Eighteen hours later you’d returned to base with the same AQ captain that had slipped through your fingers on the night your helicopter had crashed. Even then, the weeks that followed were spent skimming actionable intel for something worth the fruit of your labors. Back to back missions meant you were catching what little sleep you could in transit, often nodding off on one of your comrade’s shoulders despite yourself.

When Price had announced leave for all of you (without failing to firmly state “None of you are allowed off base until I get your after-action reports, you complete your physical exams and read the dossier of our next objective. Phones on at all times when off base. Be prepared to be back sooner than you think.”) You’d been looking forward to a strong cup of tea and a book as you curled up in the corner of whatever airbnb you’d managed to secure for a few days off base.

Gaz and Soap had different ideas.

As soon as you had mentioned staying in the UK for your break, the two sergeants jumped at the chance to drag you along on a complete tour of London and Glasgow respectively- taking turns hosting you and ensuring you had seen the true side of each city (minus the tourist traps). The idea charmed you, admittedly, but when you’d asked Price and Ghost if they’d be interested in tagging along, Price had levied the three of you a tired, bemused sort of smile and declared he had alternative arrangements.

Ghost, on the other hand…

“I’ll be up north, hunting.” He declared flatly despite the slight tilt of his head, the small glimmer of interest in his eyes. “If you get sick of these two tossers, come find me.”

You were certain he was joking of course. In the days that had followed the reveal of his face to you, the breathless, almost tender exchange that had occurred at the safehouse, you’d managed to go back to convincing yourself Ghost was nothing more than a teammate, perhaps a friend.

It didn’t stop you, however, from eyeing him from afar. It’s hard not to notice Ghost despite his moniker. The sheer breadth of him is hard to miss. He towers in door frames as you sweep houses, takes up space in the back of the confiscated truck rolling through the countryside, exists purely as a sweeping obsidian shadow just in your periphery- there and gone again in pursuit of the target.

Off the field he’s imposing, an undeniable presence in any room. You’ve gotten used to sensing him through footsteps alone, by the way his massive weight shifts behind you. You’ve caught sight of him at the gym more than once- sleeves pushed up to reveal the swirl of dark ink tracing up his left forearm as his biceps bulge under the weights. You feel his eyes linger on you in turn- burning coal dark into your spine. Watching. Waiting.

They haunt you at night, in the darkness of your room. You try not to, but sometimes you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those eyes bore down into you from above, the warm exhale of his breath fanning through the mask and onto your face. You think about his scarred hands, the knuckles uneven from the number of times he’s broken them. In your mind the calloused palm of him slips down over the meat of your thigh, hauls your leg open and his voice murmurs darkly into your ear:

“Fix.”

In the morning, you awake sweaty, heart racing, the whisper of a dream clinging wet between your thighs.

So, despite yourself, despite the knowledge it was a poor decision, you’d gone to him.

Now, six hours into your drive, the silence in the car sits as a low pit of regret in your stomach. Whatever meager conversation the two of you had managed died off long ago, and now instead you turned your face to the open countryside where the barest slivers of sunlight slice through the clouds above.

Four days, Ghost had said. Four days tucked up in a hunting cabin at the edge of some Jacobian estate atop rolling hills and rocky crags where red elk and roe deer roam at the tail end of spring. Four days alone, away from civilization with nothing but the howling wind and the superior that you long to touch to keep you company against the vast wilderness between you.

In hindsight, you’re beginning to think maybe that grand tour wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

Ghost guides the car off the A9 just as a passing rain shower splatters against the windshield. It feels as if you’re driving to the ends of the earth, not a car in any direction as you slowly pick your way up the road and higher into the hills. You eye Ghost from the corner of your eye, watching him fixed on the road ahead and gently avoiding potholes along the way. He catches your glance at him, and you feel warmth rise to your face as you quickly look away, even as the silence lingers.

“Soap is going to be pissed we didn’t invite hi up here.” You offer mildly, and Ghost grunts.

“Too loud. He’d scare the deer off with all that barking.”

You snort.

“What, you’ve never hunted with hounds before, Ghost?”

“Mm.”

That seems to be all the response you’ll get, and you turn again back to the window, watching a soft sheet of rain pass you by.

“I used to go out hunting with dogs.” You say softly, not even entirely sure if he’s listening. “In the summer as a kid. We...my parents had a caretaker who had two bluetick coon hounds. The kind that you use to tree raccoons and black bears.”

Ghost is quiet, but when you glance at him the fission of tension in his shoulders seems to have loosened. It’s an odd gesture, miniscule except to your studious eyes that track every flinch, every movement, the tiniest indication of displeasure or contentment.

“If I ever went out into the woods, those two dogs would always come with me. Especially on hunting trips.” You go on, smiling. “If you think Johnny is loud, you should have heard those two howl.”

Ghost taps his fingers against the steering wheel for a moment. You try not to think about how much larger they are than yours. “Didn’t realize you could hunt that close to Washington.”

“West Virginia.” You correct him, averting your eyes once more. “At least in the summers. Up in the Appalachians.” You look out the window, to the rolling, ancient hills where mist hangs like a reverent sigh. “Same mountain range, you know. Just millions of years and thousands of miles apart.”

“Going t’tell me you’re Scottish?” Ghost intones dryly, keeping his gaze ahead, and you grin.

“Haud yer wheesht.”

“English.” Ghost replies, but there’s no real bite to the warning, and it only makes you giggle. Except it’s muffled by the sudden sound of a low, concerning rumble from the engine followed by an irritated clicking. Your eyes shoot to Ghost, who curses low in his chest and carefully manages to navigate the stuttering car off to the barely-there shoulder just as the engine begins to sputter.

“How much did you pay for this rental?” You ask innocently, and Ghost slams the steering wheel with his hand with a growl.

“Too much.” He seethes before putting the car in park and swinging outside in one fluid motion. You follow him just as he pops the hood and peers irritably at the engine inside. You manage to lean in and gaze down next to him, looking over the components just as Ghost towers beside you, annoyance radiating clear off his form.

“There’s a toolkit in the trunk.” He states, making no motion to retrieve it. You recognize an order for what it is, and despite the fact that you’re no longer on the field the familiar weight of Ghost’s leadership feels almost second nature. You reappear with the toolkit in hand a moment later, and rather than hand it to Ghost, you begin to unpack it yourself- ignoring the sideways glance Ghost casts at you.

“By the sound of it, it’s the starter.” You tell him, and when you gently nudge him aside for more space he makes way, stepping back to watch you bend over the engine with tools in hand. “Would you mind trying to turn over the engine for me?”

Ghost doesn’t respond, and when you glance behind you his eyes suddenly dart up to your face after looking elsewhere. “Ghost.”

He holds your stare for a moment before nodding and making towards the driver's seat. A moment later the engine attempts to turn over, the car shuddering and coughing before silencing once more. You poke your head a little further into the hood, trying to locate the source of the noise. Ghost reappears at your side a moment later, just as you fiddle inside the toolkit for a wrench.

Ghost is quiet, observant as you slowly work at the engine, peering over your shoulder close enough you can almost feel the warmth of him spill into your back. It takes everything in you to suppress a shiver at the fact he’s so close. Yet he offers no commentary as you work, no snide comments or dry humor. It would be unnerving if it weren’t for the fact you’re well used to it by now.

“Got it.” You declare a few minutes later, straightening up quickly- colliding with Ghost’s hand that shoots out to cushion your head from impacting the metal hood. “Oh- thanks.”

You hold up the retrieved spark plug victoriously, corroded and rusty from age. “Probably caused a misfire.” You declare. “It needs to be replaced, but we’d have to drive into town for a repair shop...” You trail off, face falling with realization before digging in your pocket for your phone.

No signal.

You look at Ghost, who stares back at you. Nonplussed, done.

and then, without another word, he turns around and starts walking.

It takes about three seconds of you gawking at his back before you’re running to catch up.

“W-where are you going?”

“Town.”

“That’s...15 kilometers away?”

“We’ve hiked farther with our gear.” Uphill. In the snow. You mentally hear him add.

“Shouldn’t one of us stay with the car?”

“No one is going to steal a car broken down on a country road.”

“What about our stuff?”

“Did you lock the car?”

“Well...yes. But-”

Ghost’s pace doesn’t falter, purposefully long strides as he hikes further up the winding incline. You follow him, casting a forlorn little look at the little green car parked on the side of the road. You’re loath to leave it, but between the choice of staying alone on the side of the road or going with Ghost, you know you’ll always choose Ghost.

The hike is quiet, just as it was in the car, and you find yourself focusing on the broad expanse of Ghost’s shoulders rather than the stunning scenery around you. You’re so used to Ghost bringing up the rear on long distance missions with the team, watching his own six, and by doing so watching everyone else’s, including your own. You’ve always trusted him to watch you, knowing that any possible threat from behind would have to go through him first. Now, you stare at the wide expanse of his back cloaked under his dark jacket and wonder if maybe he feels the same.

and you try not to imagine the bare expanse of his rippling muscles underneath.

“Kinda reminds me of Nepal.” You murmur after clearing your throat and quickly pushing away the image, and wonder if Ghost can hear you over the wind.

Ghost raises his head a little, but doesn’t turn. “Going hypothermic again, are ya?”

You huff, breathing warmth into your fingers chilled by the slicing wind. “A little.”

You nearly run into his back when Ghost suddenly stops, turning towards you. Before you can object, you watch as he shrugs off his thick leather jacket and uses a hand to drape it over your head.

Then he promptly turns and resumes walking.

Heat blossoms across your face, hot enough to warm you down to your toes. The smell of Ghost, of gun oil and charcoal and sweat permeates your very being. You try not to dizzy yourself with a lungful of it, try not to be obvious about scenting the blissfully warm and rain resistant jacket that you quickly wrap yourself in with zero complaints. Your heartbeat flutters against your ribs breathlessly, and you try to tell yourself the warmth you feel is just from the jacket, and not the helpless feeling of longing you keep secret there inside your chest.

You catch Ghost pause just long enough to look over his shoulder, but whatever choked thanks you can offer feels swallowed up by the wind.

At the top of the hill, you pause to take a breather, clutch the jacket a little tighter around you and let the wind ruffle your hair. Below lies a lush, green valley cast in soft hues from the gray shadowed sky, a tiny village tucked away at the edge of the long, sloping hills. It’s nothing more than a collection of houses, a shop or two, a petrol station, and a pub of some sort, but to you it’s the closest thing to civilization that you’ll see for the greater part of the day.

You don’t notice Ghost’s eyes on you until you turn to him.

“Olright?” He asks, and you pause for a moment, looking at his smoky brown eyes to wonder why they feel so heavy on your form.

A sound catches both your attention, and you turn to observe the sight of a small factory Ford making its way up the sloping valley road.

After a moment, you shoot Ghost a grin.

“Ever hitch-hiked before, LT?”

Before he can answer you sway to the roadside in sight of the oncoming car, jutting out your hip and sticking out your thumb before glancing back at him.

“Stay back a little, might scare them off with the whole serial killer get up.”

Ghost squints at you, hard, and you feel a little laugh bubble up your throat at the fact he looks almost offended. But he obediently takes a step or two back before crossing his arms and staring at the oncoming driver. If anything, you think he looks more intimidating than he did before.

Fortunately it isn’t enough to dissuade the driver, who honks at you both before slowing and pulling up beside you facing the wrong way.

“Do ye need some help, lass?” The woman in the passenger seat asks, accent thick. She’s a homely sort, round in the face with graying curls and rosy cheeks. Her gray-green eyes dart between you and Ghost behind you nervously, and it takes all your resistance not to shoot Ghost a look that says “I told you so.”

“Yes, actually, if you don’t mind. Our car broke down a while back and we were wondering if we could have a ride to town?” You ask politely, putting on your best smile and explaining quickly. “We tried fixing it ourselves but we need a mechanic.”

“Oh!” You see the woman visibly relax and flutter a hand at the driver, an equally older bearded man you assume to be her husband. “An American! You’re not that common around these parts. Archie dear, don’t you think we can give the nice girl and her fellow a lift?”

You nearly choke at that, opening your mouth to correct here when the husband, Archie, you presume, arches a thick eyebrow at you and looks at Ghost for a long moment.

“Aye, hop in.” He offers gruffly, jerking his head, and you thank him profusely before nodding to Ghost and sliding into the cramped backseat. Ghost takes up almost the entire space in the tiny car with his breadth, but manages to not squish you against the door despite having to tuck his legs a bit sideways to fit. You have to make it a point not to look at him lest you give yourself away.

It takes Archie a minute or two to point the car in the direction of town again, by which point his wife, who introduces herself as Ainsley, has begun to talk your ear off.

“Are you two on holiday?” She asks cheerily, all previous suspicion gone. “Visiting family?”

“We uh-” You spare a glance at Ghost, who’s stony silence offers no help. “We’re- yes. On holiday. Up to Balfour Manor?”

“Oh lovely! It’s quite the romantic spot, Balfour. We get lots of couples up that way. Archie and I had our handfasting ceremony there, ye ken.”

Oh.

You glance at Ghost, a little aghast at Aisley’s bold assumption. Yet when Ghost returns your stare, he looks oddly amused.

You feel your face warm, clearing your throat and attempting to speak. “O-oh well we’re not-”

“Balfour isnnae all that far from here. We might as well drive you all the way. We know the manager there, Lorna. She’s as sweet as they come. She’ll get you all set up and send someone for your car.”

She pauses, looking at her husband. “Aye, Archie?”

Archie grunts, looking at you in the rearview mirror before shrugging and nodding.

“That’s...very kind. Thank you. But you really don’t have to, we can wait at the petrol station-”

Aisley waves her hand at you. “Dinna fash yerself. We were going out for a drive anyway, got to stretch the ol’ bones. Now we’ve a story to tell at the pub!”

That seems to make Archie perk up a bit. “Aye.” He drawls, chuckling as he navigates down the valley road. “Bout the polite American girl and her burglar beau.”

“Archie!” Aisley gasps, swatting at him before turning to you apologetically. “He dosnae mean anything by it, lass.”

Ghost huffs beside you, offering Archie a withering look, but gives no indication of a reply.

“It’s alright.” You try. “He’s just-”

“Shy.” Ghost deadpans, and you arch an eyebrow at him. You can see his eyes laugh. Something breathless flutters in your chest.

“I was going to say ugly.” You whisper teasingly, low enough for him to hear- and Ghost leans in, crowding your space.

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Fix.”

Jesus.

He pins you with his coal dark stare, and you feel the sudden urge to look away from the intensity of his gaze. Your heart is racing in your ears, and the backseat suddenly feels too small, too close with the way Ghost suddenly is almost on top of you, heedless of your company.

Fortunately, it seems Aisley is too busy chastising her husband to notice the way Ghost has to practically crowded against the opposite door, his hand planted over the middle seat just close enough so his gloved thumb grazes against your hip through your jeans-

Only to sit back in a blink when Aisley pokes her head back again and begins to prattle on about the care rental salesman down in Perth and his shady marketing tactics. It takes all your composure to calm your racing heart and nod along politely despite the warmth flooding your face.

Beside you, Ghost looks oddly smug.

In the miles that follow, you find yourself glancing at him, and trying to match the memory of his moonlit face against the impenetrable mask that you’ve begun to see the cracks in.

- - -

Aisley and Archie end up driving you past town and into the hills where the manor rests upon a rolling, green slope that sits on the other side of the valley. Shadowed in mist, the ancient brick manor house overlooks the village below with tall windows and a tall, imposing archway which shelters a thick iron door. Carefully tended ivy crawls upwards along the brown brick towards the chimney, where a whisper of smoke is carried away by the gusting wind.

The car rolls to a stop in the long, gravel driveway that encircles a bubbling fountain and a collection of signs that likely details the land’s history. You long to peruse them, but Ghost is quickly shuffling out of the car with a murmur of polite thanks and quickly heading up the front steps. You scoot out behind him, remembering to turn and wave at the couple. Before you can trot after Ghost, Aisley makes a quick, urgent gesture for you to come closer.

“Have patience with him, lass.” She whispers with the window rolled down, halfway leaning out. her eyes dart to Ghost, who stands a ways behind you. “My Archie was a stiff, quiet one too. Give him time, he’ll let you in when he’s ready.”

You blink, and once again open your mouth to once again try and dissuade her of the notion that you and Ghost are a couple, but Aisley’s gray eyes shine knowingly, and in the end you smile quietly to yourself and give her a small whisper of thanks before turning to follow Ghost inside out of the slicing wind.

The interior of the manor appears to have blended well with the ages, renovated but kept at its bones a true token of history. The carved banisters and railings are worn with age, and the walls maintain their wood carved paneling. Yet the furniture is distinctly modern, and the grime of centuries past has been sanded down to nothing.

There’s a freckled, ginger-haired woman who greets you at the desk labeled ‘check-in’, and upon seeing Ghost you watch her instinctively raise her hackles at his mask and gigantic, looming stature.

“Reservation for ‘Riley’.” Is all he offers as his shadow falls over her, and it takes her a moment to process before she’s furiously typing at her computer.

You peek your head out from behind Ghost, and the woman who you assume to be Lorna instantly looks relieved at your smile.

“Sorry for the late arrival, we ran into some car issues on the road and had to hitch-hike. Do you have a way to call the repair shop in town? Neither of us have a signal.”

“Oh!” Lorna chirps, looking befuddled, then mildly distressed. “That makes sense. I tried to phone you, Mr. Riley. I’m afraid that we’ve run into a wee problem with your reservation.”

She swallows thickly, typing away at her laptop for a few moments. “We- we’re terribly sorry. We had a stag party booked prior to your stay, you see. The guests before you were a bit of a rowdy bunch. We’re still cleaning the walls after the…” She trails off, looking a little green. “...Well.”

“Does that mean the reservation is canceled?” You ask, brow knotting. Beside you, Ghost stiffens. You hear his gloves creak as his fists clench.

“No, no! We’ve just been forced to switch you over to a different cottage. It’s slightly smaller, but this one comes with a fireplace at least. We’ve also charged you the lesser price due to the issue, but we won’t be able to put you in your original booking seeing as we’re all booked up.”

You glance at Ghost, who appears mildly annoyed but otherwise calm. “O’lright.” He eventually offers after a beat, and Lorna’s shoulders relax visibly.

“Lovely. Let me finish checking you in, and then I’ll see about your car. I know the repairman in town, he should be able to drive out and see what the issue is.”

“It’s one of the spark plugs.” You tell her, stepping forward a little and ignoring the way Ghost’s bulk stays warm at your back. “Should be a simple change, but we’d like to at least get our luggage if possible.”

Lorna nods seriously, which is a bit of a humorous expression on her otherwise mousey features. “I’ll be sure to let him know. We’ll try to get your bags to you by this evening.”

Lorna quickly gives you a series of pamphlets and map of the surrounding grounds, pointing out the small trail that leads off into the woods towards the cottage you and Ghost will be staying in.

“There’s breakfast and dinner served in the dining room at seven am and seven pm, plus tea service at three. Otherwise you’ll have to run into town for lunch or groceries.”

Ghost nods stoically, eyes tracing over the hunting pamphlet, which Lorna sees him eyeing.

“Oh, and the hunting range is northwest of us. You’ll need to check in with us before you set off to make sure your hunting permit is in order. We do process any deer you hunt for a fee, otherwise you’re welcome to take it back home yourself.”

Ghost nods again, and murmurs a small thanks before tucking the pamphlet in his hoodie pocket and turning. You give Lorna a smile and a wave before following after him out the thick iron doors. The clouds outside have darkened to an ominous gray, with a whisper of moisture lingering in the air. You huddle deeper into Ghost’s jacket, falling in step with him as you begin to make your way towards the forest cottage.

You eye him out of the corner of your eye, finding his gaze directed forward. Yet he softens his stride, ensuring that you don’t fall behind him as you walk. One of a thousand silent things to fit further into the puzzle of him.

“Riley, huh?” You ask after a minute or two of walking, and Ghost glances at you before making a small, noncommittal grunt.

“Laswell gave you my file, didn’t she?”

She did, but the file had been so redacted that you’d only managed to get bits and pieces. SAS selection, top of his class, record breaking scores, details of his skills in covert infiltration, sabotage, and clandestine tradecraft. There was a mention of an extended leave, but after that? Black. Nothing. The words POW stood out among the endless redactions, but until his recruitment into the 141, Ghost’s file was an enigma, an anomaly, leaving you to fill in the gaps in between with the scarce glimpses behind the mask he offered you.

Then again, there were things in your file that you refused to share as well.

“You’re a mysterious man, Mr. Riley.” You smirk at him, and if you look close enough, you think you can see his mask tug at the corner with a smile.

“You sleep with that mask on?” You ask teasingly.

“Like a log.” He drawls.

“Might scare the deer off with that.”

“Brought a camo one.”

You gape at him. “You’re joking.”

Ghost looks at you, silent, deadpan. “I’ve been told I’m a comedian.”

You bark a laugh, out of pure surprise more than anything, only to quickly dissolve into a fit of giggles.

In the woods now, a thick grove of twisted trunks that shields you from the worst of the wind, you and Ghost enjoy a comfortable, mutual silence. Despite the fatigue from the day’s travel, the lingering unease from ruined plans and impromptu decisions, there’s a small warmth that curls inside your chest as you walk beside him, huddled in his jacket several sizes too big as the moorish wind sweeps across your cheeks.

“Well.” You say at last. “Broken car, nosy neighbors, and a just barely rescued reservation. They say bad things come in threes. I think we’re past the worst of it.”

As if on cue, a raindrop falls right on your nose.

You look up just in time for another to land on your cheek. Ghost pauses beside you, cocking his head, listening. There’s a distant rumble of warning from the sky above....

and seconds later the bottom drops out of the clouds and onto your heads.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Ghost swears, glaring up at the sky with putrid annoyance. Then he looks at you as you hold his jacket over your head to try and shield yourself from the worst of the downpour.

You gulp.

“I...might have jinxed it” You confess, and you think you see a vein in his neck throb.

Your clothes are soaked through by the time you get to the cottage, teeth chattering loudly as the cold quickly sets in. Ghost’s tension is palpable, a low rolling thunder that mirrors the stormy skies above. You try to remind yourself you are not the source of his ire, rather that the events of the day draw heavy on his shoulders and rest as a tightly coiled tension under the soaked fabric of his hoodie.

You drip water onto the mat of the entryway, hugging the jacket tighter around your shoulders as you survey the interior. It’s quaint, cozy. The entryway feeds into a small kitchen with old wooden cabinets complete with brass handles. Beyond is the living area, and without thinking you walk over to the old stone fireplace and crouch before it, heedless of the puddles you leave in your wake.

“It’s an actual fireplace.” You smile at Ghost, nodding to the wood stacked on the edge. “Do you remember your boy scout lessons?”

Ghost scoffs, striding past you to survey the living space with keen, wary eyes. You know what he’s doing on instinct- marking entryways, noting escape routes and barricade points, possible fire hazards and other threats. Like you, he’s able to leave the battlefield, only for it to exist in his mind.

As he checks the locks, you wander over to the two doors opposite of the fireplace, peeking inside one to find a bathroom, and the other to find the bedroom.

Except...

“Oh.” You whisper, and you sense rather than hear Ghost instantly pause behind you, crossing the room to hover tall and dark behind your shoulder as he looks at what’s caught your attention.

A single bed, neatly made. Between the pillows, a red rose.

You feel Ghost go stiff behind you just as heat warms your face all the way down to your toes.

“Did you...” You ask quietly, without turning towards him. “...Book us a single bed?”

“No.” Ghost replies, a little too quickly, terse, and scoots his massive frame past you to grab the red rose on the pillow and briskly toss it in the garbage pail. You hear him mutter an annoyance under his breath that you think sounds like “Bloody stag party.”

There’s a laugh bubbling in your chest akin to hysterics. You’ve slept close to Ghost before, sure. Hell, he kept you alive with his body heat before, but that...that was different. That was on the field, in the presence of teammates, things necessary for duty and survival. Here, in this quiet, romantic cottage where it’s just the two of you, where everyone seems to be operating on the understanding that you’re a couple...

“I’ll take the couch.” You say before you can catch the thought. “You- you’re too tall to fit comfortably. You can have the bed.”

Ghost looks at you, dark eyes meeting yours, and you’re reminded just how intense his gaze is. You feel untethered, unbalanced, caught in the gravity of his stare alone. For a single, daring moment you pray that he’ll find a reason to disagree, that he’ll insist you both sleep together, but eventually he blinks and nods.

“Olright.” He cedes at last, finally turning away from you, and it feels as if there’s something left unsaid between you both, something you’re not brave enough to voice yet. It curls under your skin, and you shiver hard, curling your arms around you for warmth.

“You’ll catch a cold.” Ghost nods at you, and proceeds to unzip his wet hoodie so it lands on the floor with a wet splat. “Should change out of those.”

You don’t respond for a second, too distracted by the way Ghost’s shirt clings to every plane of his muscled torso, the soft flesh of his belly, the dip between his shoulders. Eventually your brain catches up with you, and you blink, swallowing back the dryness in your throat.

“Into...what, exactly?”

Ghost looks at you for a beat, before grabbing a quilt off the end of the bed and tossing it at you. You gape at him, equal parts baffled and aghast.

“Y-you can’t be serious.”

“If you’d like to catch your death that way, by all means.” Ghost returns, and turns from you to begin stripping off the shirt that clings far too tightly to his massive frame. You stand frozen to the spot, hands clutching too tight to the quilt as the pale, scarred flesh of Ghost’s torso is slowly revealed. The ink on his forearm swirls all the way up to his shoulder, and from there you trace a long, jagged scar that forms a ‘T’ across his pecs with their pale pink nipples. You don’t miss the blonde thatch of hair that coils just below it, curls down his stomach towards his waistband as his fingers go for his belt, only to pause.

With dawning horror, you look up and meet Ghost’s heavy, lidded stare.

“Looking ‘respectfully’, Fix?”

You can feel the instant your neurons misfire, electrocuting into nothingness as you stand paralyzed with your mouth open, caught ogling him in a way that’s so far removed from what might be considered ‘respectful’ you may as well bury yourself alive. You try to speak, to say an excuse, to offer an apology, anything, but the way Ghost’s eyes burn into you, the way you can’t seem to budge from his stare roots you to the spot, staring at the pale expanse of his bare torso and forgetting how to breathe.

The clink of his belt as he resumes undressing sends you scrambling out of the room and slamming the bathroom door behind you.

As you bury your burning face in your hands, you swear you hear Ghost chuckle from the other room.

You lean hard on the door, waiting for Ghost to finish doing...whatever it is he’s doing, and desperately trying to ignore the torrent of images that flood your brain of his scarred, pale shoulders, the smattering of freckles at his clavicle, the wisp of hair trailing below his waistband...

It takes effort to silence the groan bubbling up in your throat, caught somewhere between desperate desire and baffled embarrassment. Still sitting in your sopping wet clothes on the bathroom floor, the water slowly puddling beneath you, you try vainly to compose yourself and think of something...anything other than the vision of Ghost’s bare, rain-slick body hovering mere feet away from you with nothing but a wall to separate you both.

It’s the shivering chill of your soaked limbs that eventually forces you up, carefully peeling off your wet layers and wringing them as best as you can in the sink before hanging them to dry. By the time you step under the hot stream of water in the shower to warm up, you’re shivering head to toe from the cold.

Steam curls around your bare form just as the sounds in the other room gravitate towards the living room, and once more you try to brush away the thought of Ghost striding around the cottage completely naked with little success. There’s a coiling sort of tension that runs southward at the image of your lieutenant’s muscled, bare figure just steps away from your own naked form. It’s not the first time you’ve caught yourself with such thoughts- thoughts you usually reserve for your bunk at base, alone, lights turned off as your hand slithers below your waistband.

Even now, your fingers glide southward, cupping your bare cunt with a shuddering little sound. You’re a little wet just by the sight of seeing Ghost dripping, shirtless, hands fiddling brazenly with his belt with little regard for your presence. You can’t help but think about what might greet you if he had pulled his pants just a little further down, letting you see the bulge there. Ghost is massive, towering over your frame, and you wonder if whatever he hides there is at the least proportional.

You spread your cunt a little, fingers slipping between your folds as you tip your head back against the tile with a soft little sigh. You’re not sure if it’s the water or the burning heat of your own skin that coils warm in your veins, sending a murmur of pleasure electrifying across your hips and up towards the small of your spine. Your fingers trace slow, languid circles around your clit, your other hand raising to cup your breast just as you surrender and allow the vision of Ghost to engulf your hazy thoughts.

Ghost, bare, strong, built like a tank and able to rip men apart with his bare hands. Ghost, with scars littering his skin that speak of a lifetime of brutality and yet his eyes- eyes that fix you with a stare so intense you wonder sometimes if you’ll crack under the weight, burn so brightly you turn to glass, obsidian as dark as his voice that purrs in your ear during missions. Ghost who’s dark, swirling ink traces shadowy tendrils across your mind and drags you down, down into the abyss of his phantom touch.

You keen a little behind your teeth, hips pushing up into your hand just as you shudder at the thought that it’s not your nimble fingers, but his.

You have to keep quiet. The last thing you need right now is Ghost knocking on the door and asking about the barely stifled whimpers and moans you’re swallowing down with deep lungfuls of humid air. It’s hard not to make noise though, especially when you think about the idea of Ghost walking in on you like this, caging you with his towering frame against the shower wall and purring down in your ear.

“Fix.”

“Ghost.” You whisper, barely audible as your breath hitches, eyes squinted shut with pleasure. There’s a whimper bubbling up your throat, and you bite the back of your hand just to silence it, fingers working your clit faster now, the dawn of your climax ascending rapidly. You think about him, about Ghost trapping you against the shower with nowhere to run, sinking two, broad fingers into you deep enough for you to feel his knuckles broken one too many times to be even. You wonder if even that is little compared to the cock that hangs heavy between his toned thighs, ruddy and pink and leaking at the thought of sinking himself into you.

“Fuck-” You gasp, a little too loud, but you don’t care because you’re close, close enough that you can feel yourself teetering on the razor’s edge, ever nerve in your body drawing taut, tighter.

You want him. You want him here, in the shower. You want his fingers inside you plucking at the sensitive point of pleasure inside your gummy walls that clench down on him with every retreat, trying to keep yourself full. You want him to split you open on his cock, to haul your legs up to his shoulders and fold you in half as he fucks you down into the bed, growling, snarling in your ear. You want to feel yourself bow off the bed with a little cry, walls rippling over his cock just as he huffs warm breath into your ear: “Good girl, Fix. Good fucking girl.”

When you cum, you have to swallow down a sob.

As the liquid warmth of your release unspools through your veins, you tip your head back against the tile, panting, trying to catch your breath. Your legs quiver as they hold your weight, muscles weak. It takes concentration to just remain standing in the afterglow of your shattering orgasm, shoulders heaving and brow pinched as you try to regain yourself.

You raise a hand to wipe the water from your face, holding the heel of your palm to your forehead and whispering out a little curse that’s muffled by the water. Outside, you can hear Ghost shuffling about in the kitchen and living room, and you pray by some grace of god he heard absolutely nothing from inside the shower.

It’s only after you’re steady on your feet again that you remember you have no clothes.

You groan then, heedless of the sound, burying your face in your hands and praying for some type of divine intervention or damnation. Inside the mist of your mind, Ghost’s chuckle haunts your thoughts.

You’re so fucked.

Tag List:

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#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #Simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x ofc #reader insert #cod x reader #fic: shadow and bone #oc: fix #fic: snowblind

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tinydefector · 2 months

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Hi Tiny! (First time I’ve asked to this blog, or any blog in general) Not really a request, feel free to not acknowledge this, these are simply some thoughts inspired by the Human effects series that I wanted to share with you!

For one, human doctors who are passionate about how the human body works finding cybertronian forums and trying to communicate info on how human bodies work like

- start of dialogue -

Ilovecatssupreme: no @/jewelsmoneygoldgalore(or whatever swindles username would be) that is NOT how the human body works!!

Don’t try (insert sex act here), you would KILL them!

And @/revuppowerup humans do NOT HAVE CLOACAS!! Guys please we aren’t birds we have two seperate holes

[insert fun fact about human anatomy that would probably scare the shit out of a cybertronian here]

- end of dialogue -

I just think it’d be hillarious to see a human doctor who is appalled going “guys, that’s not how that works!! It works like this-“ and proceeds to explain the human body and our parts

On a similar note, thought / scenario; a human doctor part of Y/n’s crew possibly being interested in learning more about cybertronian biology but not wanting to come off rude or overly personal with questions, especially with the cultural differences between the species they may not wanna ask things that come off weird or creepy, would possibly get along with brainstorm over wanting to know for research purposes!!

Another thought that comes to mind, cybertronians finding human forums with human monster fuckers goin: yeah sure I’d bang a cybertronian, some of their ambassadors are hot / Optimus prime kinda hot

It just seems funny, like I just imagine some people from different parts of the world like; “how do cybertronians flirt? I got this person who buys my supplies and i wanna get them to pay more” (swindle vs their supplier who can seduce who for more profit first/j I jest i jest)

But I think it’d be neat to see cybertronians figuring out that a portion of humanity is definitely interested and wants to know how to get with them safely(optional)

Also just me saying this, Nadia, mentioned on ‘Chaos on board’ is so far one of my favorite original(?) characters in the human effects series, I definitely wanna find out where her attempts at getting free drinks from swerve go

Either way loving the series so far! I can’t wait to see where it goes next, wether or not it continues considered,

Remember to take care of yourself, take breaks, the usual! <33

Oh the chaos that would insure. Both medical personnel from both sides having to sit down with their crew or people and go. " Please do not fuck/frag the cybertronian /human, we do not have the knowledge or resources to know if it's safe"

But also watching the scientists and medics working together to see what is actually possible and viable. Have to run fluid tests and samples to see if it's possible for a safe relationship between a human and cybertronian. But also the sheer shock when both sides find out that their 'equipment' is very similar.

And oh, the forums, there are so many. So are simple as just polls of 'would you frag a human?. Yes or no' then there's the secret polls shared between friends groups with a list of mech or human's to see who everyone seems to have a thing for.

It eventually leads to anonymous role play groups over fantasy, fanfiction sites, informational sites, and even rare hook up sites. Sharing information over their species. And God forbid when the hook up sites get around on both sides.

But can you imagine any medical staff getting a call for help and showing up to someone quarters to find a human and bot stuck together. Medics being baffled, shocked, impressed, horrified, and disappointed.

I'm planning on keeping human effects as the small series I've got going but if you guys want another spin off on it heading more in the horny direction I'm happy to make another. Probably call it Sites unknown or something like that.

Slowly working on the next part of human effects and I'm glad you guys like the crew had alot of fun writing them, and I might do a little spin off fic of Nadia and Swerve in the future in people really want it.

#transformers #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers lost light #mtmte #valveplug #Transformers human Effects

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corazondebeskar-reads · 11 months

Text

Fic Recs - Joel Miller (series)

fic recs for completed and ongoing series starring Joel Miller

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = rough/bdsm elements, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

Mind the warnings, and please read responsibly. you control your own media consumption.

All Fic Recs | TLOU Fic Recs | Joel one-shots pt. 1 & pt. 2

dark!Joel

*note: if fics fit multiple categories but contain dark!Joel, they will go here only.

🏴💀slasher!joel by @toxicanonymity (ongoing)

summary: serial killer Joel Miller picks you up with his tow truck and you end up fighting (and fucking) for your life.

🏴⛓💀 raider!joel by @toxicanonymity (ongoing)

summary: Stockholm syndrome on your end, it isn't time that does it on his. Joel saves you from bad men, but claims you for himself and takes you with him. You're his, and he won't let anyone forget it. His survival persona starts to crack, and he gets softer with you, but even more possessive and protective. Emotionally, this is quite a slow burn. Smut wise, not so much.

🏴💀 bullet for you darlin' by @kewwrites (ongoing)

summary: After surviving on your own for so long, when you're no longer useful for trade Joel decides to take something a little more personal from you.

🏴💀 blessed be the fruit by @romana-after-dark (ongoing)

summary: A few decades into Gilead’s conception, you head into your first posting as a handmaid after an affair with a guardian landed you in trouble. Determined to keep your head low in order to keep your son safe, you take on the moniker of OfJoel. Commander Miller has very little to do with you and mrs. Miller regards you with disgust, however you find solace in an unlikely friendship with Commander Miller’s daughter from a handmaid 14 years ago, Ellie who just got done with wives school. You and your friend, Ofthomas start teacher her and her friend Reilly under her mothers nose. Slowly, Commander Miller begins spending time with you and you begin to learn more about the man he was before and an affair begins outside the confines of the ceremony. Although initially you go along with it out if survival, you find yourself falling for the version of Joel you saw in these late night rendezvous.

Which Joel is really him, and how will he react when his own daughters secrets are revealed?

🏴💀 vampire!Joel series by @toxicanonymity (ongoing)

summary: vampire!Joel kidnaps you and tries to keep you.

🏴💀 smother by @beardedjoel (ongoing)

summary: can you hold a man as both your savior to be worshipped and the monster that he is?

🏴 carnal by @pascalsbby

summary: You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another, and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

bdsm

fics with explicitly d/s dynamics or play, not just rough sex/kinks, dom!Joel unless otherwise noted

⛓ strawberry by @joelsgreys (ongoing)

summary: a series of connected stand-alones following daddy dom!Joel and sub!reader through different elements of their dynamic.

⛓ you wanted this by @alwaysmicado (complete?)

summary: Joel and you have a fun dynamic going. You provoke him, he punishes you - you both get off. When you meet him after you’ve fucked someone else, he decides to show you who you belong to. It’s all fun and games, right?

qz!Joel

something wretched about this by @covetyou (complete)

summary: Your father has been sick since before the world went to shit, but being sick now just made things even harder. Ration cards were few and far between, and the pills to keep him comfortable were even scarcer. When he can't pay up, what lengths will you go to to protect your entire world? Featuring Joel Miller; self appointed pharmacist, medication supplier, drug dealer and total, utter slut.

the menu by @tightjeansjavi (ongoing)

Joel Miller has a menu concocted just for his customers. Pills? He’s got ‘em. Guns? Ammo? Name your price. Booze to warm the broken souls and hearts of the QZ? give him a holler. Everything comes with a price, of course. Joels got somethin’ special on his menu. Somethin’ that he doesn’t advertise freely. Y’gotta want it. Y’gotta have a desire that matches his own, only then will he offer what you seek.

jackson!Joel

A Safe Haven by @joelsgreys (ongoing)

summary: When Joel Miller and Ellie Williams return to Jackson, Wyoming to begin their new lives, the last thing Joel expects is to catch the eye of the thriving community’s equine veterinarian. Young, beautiful, and married, Joel knows that he should stay away from a woman like you, but he can’t help but to be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. As you start growing closer to both Joel and Ellie, you find out all about the secrets they both carry—and they find out you’ve been hiding a secret or two of your own.

mall rats by @strang3lov3 (ongoing)

summary: you and Joel are assigned to scavenge an old mall. (well, you're assigned and Joel has to accompany you for backup). sarcasm, bickering-as-foreplay, and more ensue.

Mr. Miller series by @tremendum (ongoing)

summary: six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that’s no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. Tommy’s goddamn brother, no less.

slow hands by @tightjeansjavi (ongoing)

summary: Joel Miller thinks that your coffee shop in Jackson is a bit too “frivolous” for his taste until Tommy tells him one day that it’s the best cup of coffee that he’ll ever have. Little does he know..he’s going to get more than just a cup of coffee when he finally meets you. You soon find out that the grumpy old man with a rambunctious teenager, is hiding sugar sweet softness under layers of hardness.

Fear of God by @netherfeildren (complete)

summary: What was monstrousness? What was it, but a certainty that there existed within you multitudes of desires, needs, guilts, impulses – humanity? At the end of the world, when the dust has finally settled, Joel grapples with what it is to take hold of your own monstrosity – your own humanity – and live with it. And what it is to bear that truth in the palm of your hand held towards the person you love, offer it to them, and have it be accepted for what it was. Courage, above all else, it is courage that is necessary to go on.

angst

clouds by @softlyspector (two shot)

summary: Joel comes home to find you telling your daughter a bedtime story.

Pink by @netherfeildren (complete)

summary: Humanism: an outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.

dinner and diatribes by @tightjeansjavi (ongoing)

summary: you’re the kind of love that Joel Miller has been dreaming of all his life

fluff

[yikes I do not read enough fluff. send me your faves pls. coming soon?]

no outbreak/AU

New in Town by @justagalwhowrites (ongoing)

summary: When you move to Austin for work, your best friend Sarah recommends that you hang out with her dad, Joel, to get to know the area. Sarah just never mentioned the fact that her dad is just your type.

ravish by @psychedelic-ink (complete?)

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

a lover's pinch by @hier--soir (ongoing)

summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

sugar daddy joel by @notjustjavierpena (ongoing)

summary: Joel Miller, a walking menace, buys you pretty things in exchange for shoving his cock in you.

the checklist by @thetriumphantpanda (ongoing)

summary: Your new boyfriend Joel finds your hidden stash of porn, full of pages with their corners folded over, marking the things you like the most. Expecting him to feel bad about finding things you’re into, things you haven’t asked for from him, you’re surprised when he offers to help you tick them off.

meet me in the back series by @atticrissfinch (ongoing)

summary: When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative

Divine Dynasty by @cavillscurls (ongoing)

summary: Your father had been a loyal asset to the Miller Clan for his entire life. After his passing, Joel feels a responsibility for you and your safety; inviting you further into his world, and your desires.

Law of Attraction by @mandoisapunk (ongoing)

summary: you and your criminal law professor have an undeniable attraction toward each other. so, it's only natural that you both explore that attraction... but navigating a dynamic like that is never as simple as it seems.

online friends by @walkintotheriveranddisappear (complete)

summary: hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (aka: anonymous sex chatting with joel)

Catalyst by @ezrasbirdie (ongoing; ft. Frankie Morales)

summary: After falling into bed together on the night of Frankie’s 40th birthday party, you, Joel, and Frankie start a relationship.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic recs #joel miller fic #tlou fic recs #the last of us fic #the last of us fic recs

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milla-frenchy · 1 year

Text

Fav Joel series

All of them are 18+ and nsfw

Please check for each fic all the warnings indicated by the author

Summaries are those written by the authors

Raider Joel @toxicanonymity

You think Joel is saving you from the bad guys, but he's claiming you for himself. You're his now, and he won't let you or his men forget it. How long until Stockholm syndrome sets in? Will his persona start to crack?

Slasher Joel @toxicanonymity

He's a tow truck driver and you're stranded. You're already DTF but end up fucking for your life when you offend him.

Night walks @toxicanonymity

Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but not really. You can't stop fucking him after that.

Carnal @pascalsbby

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

Dom!Joel @atticrissfinch

The wrong number that texts you ends up being a man much hotter than you’d ever expect…

⭐ Meet me in the back @atticrissfinch

When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative

I know it when I see it @bageldaddy

It's the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name texas.

I can be your pretty girl @walkintotheriveranddisappear

After your bodily insecurities stop you from exploring your sexuality, your dad's best friend offers to help you gain some confidence and help prepare you for experiences with men. as things progress with joel, you realize he's taking advantage of you, but that doesn't stop you from having a good time, too.

Online friends @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (anonymous sex chatting with joel)

Something wretched about this @covetyou

Your father has been medicating his long term illness for as long as you can remember, and he'd always been grateful to find medication suppliers even after the world went to shit. When he can't pay up, what lengths will you go to to protect your entire world?

Ravish @psychedelic-ink

Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

Ghost of you @thetriumphantpanda

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Trial & error @thetriumphantpanda

Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come away with me @thetriumphantpanda

Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

A lover's pinch @hier--soir

A one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

You summer dream @swiftispunk

Fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

Lost in the dark @iamasaddie

One time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is, of course, the time his dad catches you. Once normal relationship turns into something new, and you are forced to face the fucked up reality of your life

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender @iamasaddie

Desperation was never a good advisor, and yours led to find yourself as a very special person among Joel Miller's birds. You'll have to see for yourself if you have what it takes to live up to the status, and in the meantime Joel will "train" you and take care of you. // Joel Miller is a pimp and you are at your all time low, that's it.

Feelings on fire @joelscruff

You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

With pleasured hands @magpiepills

You’re Tommy Miller’s girlfriend, you’re on vacation with him and Joel, Tommy likes it when you’ve got an audience, Joel prefers being an active participant

Bullet for you darlin' @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

Joel takes something a little more personal from you after you run out of things to trade

Sunshine @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

A look at the innocent relationship between Sunshine and Joel till one night something changes the course of their relationship forever. 'Loss and heartbreak often turn the best of us into our worst selves.'

⭐ latest series added (11/18/2023)

HUGE thank you to all the authors 🙏🙏🙏

Fics recs

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fic

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storm-angel989 · 7 months

Text

Outside the Office Part Seven

Hi All,

No trigger warnings for this one, but definitely mature content. I love the feedback I've been getting- I'm thrilled everyone is enjoying this series! As always, feedback is appreciated! Enjoy!

When I woke up, I found Valentino asleep, his arm wrapped around me protectively. His heart shaped glasses were folded neatly on the nightstand next to us. In all the time we had spent together, I had never seen Val actually sleep. I laid my head on his chest, listening to the steady ins and outs of his breathing as I slowly woke up. I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes, willing myself to stay awake.

It was at that moment I noticed the bloodstains on his hands and clothes. I sat up and frantically ran my hand over the parts of him I could reach, searching for a source of the blood. Was he hurt? I ran my hands down his chest, unable to find its origon.

“Mi amore. Awake already?” he asked sleepily, adjusting his position ever so slightly.

“You’re bleeding.” I ran my hand over his neck, trying to calm the panic that was so prevalent in my voice. “You’re hurt.”

That woke him up. His fingers interlaced with mine and he pushed us both upright, looking down. Pain shot through me, but I ignored it. Val was hurt. He checked himself over and after a few moments, he shook his head.

“Not mine princessa. Yours, most likely. From yesterday. I need a shower and you…” he saw my pained expression. “Need another round of pain medication. And food.” He gently moved me against the pillows. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He vanished into the bathroom and reappeared a few moments later. He snapped on a pair of blue gloves before he reached over and carefully disconnected the IV line. From his pocket, he pulled two vials and an alcohol wipe packet. .

“One to flush, one for pain.” He took my arm in his hand and ran the wipe over the entryway. “It might burn princessa. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to be high.” I said, yanking my arm away. “No, Val. I don’t like that feeling. Please.”

“You won’t be.” He said soothingly. “The doctor gave you another non narcotic. Just like last night. Once it’s in you, I’ll take the whole IV out. I promise. Let me know when you’re ready.” He waited for me to answer.

“I…trust you.” I said softly, moving back closer to him.

He kissed my forehead. “That’s my girl.”

I grimaced as the first round of liquid flooded into my veins. He uncapped the second vial and slowly pushed it into my body.

“I don’t feel any…ah!” The tightness in the back of my head released and the pain erased itself.

“Supplier of highs and releases,” he mumbled, more to himself than to me. He carefully slid the IV out of my arm, taping the gauze over the pinprick of damage it left behind. “Do you feel okay?”

“I don’t feel pain, if that’s what you're asking.” I said slowly. “Lucifer wasn’t kidding when he said medicine in hell is far more advanced than what angels have. All we have for stuff like this is…well, more akin to what those demons gave me last night.”

Valentino grimaced. “Princessa, I can’t…even begin to imagine.” He sighed and gently leaned over and kissed me. “I told you the medicine wouldn't affect your brain. I made a promise to answer your questions today, and you promised the same. You can’t be hazy for that. But you do need to eat first. Come on, let’s go see what Vox made for breakfast.”

He stood up and lifted me into his arms, carrying me out to the living room couch. “Vox? Vel?" He called out across the room. "One of you, keep an eye on her. I need a shower and I don’t want to leave her by herself.”

“You’re being overprotective.” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He laid me down on the couch and kissed my forehead.

“And I have every right to be overprotective, princessa. Do you disagree?”

I didn’t. The feeling of love and safety that wrapped around me the moment he touched me was incomparable to anything else. I craved it, more than anything. I watched as he walked away, settling myself against the pillows.

Velvette looked over at me from her place on the couch and did a double take. “Fuck. You look even worse this morning.”

I heard Valentino yell from down the hall, his voice loud and laced with annoyance. “Don’t fuck with her Vel, or I’ll fuck you up.”

She puffed up and hollered back. “I’m not fucking with her, its the truth.” She paused and I watched her swing herself up and march down the hallway towards his room. I heard Valentino curse and she walked out a few moments later, a box in her hand. She marched over to the elevator.

“I’ll be right back.”

I watched her disappear downstairs and looked at Vox. He shrugged in response.

“Does it hurt to chew?" He asked, walking over next to me. "I made soup if it does. If not, I have waffles and scrambled eggs- with cheese. Both should be soft enough for you to eat.”

“I don’t feel any pain.” I said, pushing myself up. “But I’m not hungry either.”

“So waffles and eggs it is. Got it.” He disappeared into the kitchen and came out a moment later with a plate, handing it to me. “Come on, you have to eat. It's yummy, I promise."

“I’m really not all that hungry, Vox. And it has nothing to do with your cooking.” I responded, pushing away the proffered plate. “My stomach’s just off.”

He sat down next to me on the couch, setting my plate on the coffee table in front of him. He was quiet for a moment, and he picked up the fork and cut a small piece of the waffle, sticking it with the fork. “Your belly is off because you haven’t eaten anything in the last fourteen or so hours. Come on. You’re not going to feel any better if you don’t give your body what it needs.”

“I told you, I’m not…”

“And the train goes in the tunnel.” Vox sang sarcastically as he stuck the fork in my mouth. “Chew. Swallow. Food goes into our tummies and makes us feel better!” His one eye began to swirl. “Eat.”

I did as he commanded but glared at him once I had swallowed the bite. “Stop being a jerk, I am not a child.”

“Oh? Could have fooled me because grow ups understand the importance of feeding our bodies. So much like a five year old, I’m giving you a choice. Either I can feed you, bite by bite, or you can feed yourself. But you need something in your stomach. End of discussion.” His voice turned softer. “You’ll heal faster and feed better. You need to eat, reader.”

I glared but realized I wasn't going to win this one. I took the plate and fork from him. He wasn’t wrong, after the first delicious bite my hunger returned. “Okay fine but don’t do that again. I mean it, I’m not helpless and I’m not a child.””

“And I don’t have a Daddy kink, so if you do what you need to do, I don’t have to treat you like a child.” He paused. “Trust me, if I wanted to play Daddy I would borrow one of Val’s whor- er, employees and make some money.”

“What does that even mean?”

Vox reached over and patted my head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just get as much down as you can manage. I’m going to go make another batch, yell if you need me.”

He walked away as I ate, scrolling through my phone as I worked my way through breakfast. A few minutes later, my plate was empty. I set it on the table and uncapped the Sweet Sixteen that Vox had left for me, sipping it as I made myself as comfortable as I could.

Vox walked over to me just as I finished the drink. He looked me over and grinned. “You can’t tell me your stomach doesn’t feel better now that you’ve fed it. Your color is back.” He paused. “Did Val take your temperature this morning?”

I shook my head no.

“He should have. Com’ere let me feel your forehead.” The back of his hand pressed against my skin. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. No fever. No fever usually means no infection brewing. I’ll let Lucifer know.”

“Is he coming today?” I asked. “I thought I might see him this morning.”

Vox shook his head. “Not unless you want him to come. He called earlier to check in on you but you were still sleeping. He said he’d try to video call with you later but if you could text him and let him know you’re alive I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

I picked up my phone and shot a quick text to Lucifer. He responded back right away.

You’re sure you're okay?

More than okay, Uncle Lucy. Promise.

Alright. I’ll try to call later but no promises. Things are rough out here. Glad you’re staying with the V’s. Be safe, and rest.

Across the room, the elevator door opened up and I looked up. Velvette sashayed across the room and plopped down on the couch next to me.

“Find what you need?” I asked, turning the screen on my phone off.

She pushed my empty plate across the table and set several bags and boxes next to us. “I did. Mind if I touch? Your face, I mean.”

“My face?” I asked as she tilted her head to one side, studying me. “I guess, sure.”

“Excellent.” She brushed my hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear. “Mind if I play a bit? See what I can do to help you get cleaned up? You’ll feel better if you look better.”

“She doesn’t look bad.” Valentino’s voice drifted down the hallway. He walked over to us and leaned over the back of the couch. He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Be nice. She’ll heal up.”

“Oh will you shut up? There is no hiding that she’s beat to shit. And if she looks in the mirror and sees it, well that won’t do much for healing now will it? You feel better if you look better.” Velvette shot back.

Valentino shrugged, apparently unbothered by Velvette’s snap. “As long as she’s fine with it, that’s all that matters. Vox, is there food left? I’m starving.” He turned to me. “Babe. Did you eat?”

“Vox made me.” I grumbled as Velvette lightly touched my skin.

“And do you feel better now that I did?” Vox prompted, flopping on the couch across from me.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then I stand by my decision. You gotta eat, that's the first lesson you learned upon your arrival to hell.”

“Speaking of arrival to hell…” Valentino sat next to Vox, directly across from me. “Care to explain why you told us last night that you’ve been beaten worse than this? Because this, babydoll, is pretty bad from where I stand.”

“Yeah. I want to know too.” Vox added.

“Agreed.” Velvette added, pausing her makeup to look at me.

I frowned at the three of them. “I told you. My dad raised me- he was the leader of the exorcist army. What exactly do you think my days looked like?”

All three of them stared at me in confusion. I rolled my eyes.

“Guys. It’s the military. Do you not have one in hell? My days started at four am and if I made a mistake, even a tiny one, I was met with corporal punishment- even more so because my father was the head, and he wanted to make sure he set an example. Not to mention some of the exercises themselves were meant to prepare us for our eventual arrival in hell. We underwent all sorts of physical training to ensure that even if the worst happened down here we would not, under any circumstances, betray heaven. And we were taught to fight to survive. To do that, they broke us down to the nitty gritty, and put us through all sorts of…scenarios. It’s what we needed to do to learn to survive.” I paused. “Or at least, that's what they told us.”

I stopped talking and watched them try to process what I had told them. A memory floated up, one I had tried to keep hidden away. Might as well share, maybe it would help them understand.

“Here is a prime example. One time, I was late to the first call. I was supposed to swim laps that morning under the watchful eye of my father. When I turned up late, he ripped into me in front of an entire platoon, told me what an absolute disgrace I was to our family name, and then made me run laps until I puked. Or passed out. I’m not really sure which it was. When I wasn’t physically able to run anymore, he made me spend the day cleaning out the locker rooms. Said it was character building. And I mean, he was right. I was never late for the first call again.”

“I have so many questions,” Vox began slowly. “Like, how old were you, exactly?”

“Oh no. Your turn is over. It’s my turn to ask.” I replied lightly. “Right? The agreement was that you would answer honestly, and so would I.”

Valentino looked ever so slightly annoyed. “Yes. I suppose so. Bear in mind, princessa, that agreement was between you and I. But fine. Ask your question. We can go back and process ... .that later.” He hesitated. “Does Lucifer know about this?”

“I said I’m not answering any more questions. Souls. Soul contracts. How do they work? And what the fuck even is your job, Valentino?”

“That’s two questions. If we answer them both, you have to answer another one as well. Got it?” Velvette interjected, brushing powder on my face. “There. You’re all done. I’ll finish later, when your lips don’t move as much.”

Across from me, Valentino set his empty plate on the table and stood up, walking over to me. I reached for him and he lifted me up, settling me against him and pulling a quilt over us. “You okay, princessa?” He asked with concern in his voice. "You look like you're getting tired."

“I’m fine. Answers. Souls.” I reminded him. “What did I see in that room, Val? What did I walk in on?”

Valentino sighed and thought for a moment. “You saw me at my job. As the boss. Every single one of those demons in that room belongs to me. Is owned by me. Sold their soul to me. I give them everything they are owed in their contract. And make no mistake, they knew exactly what they were getting into when they signed the contract with me. And I am bound by that contract as much as they are.”

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed. “Vox. Vel. One of you. Help me out here.”

Vox took a deep breath. “It’s like this. Our power as overlords comes from the souls we own. We acquire souls through the deals we make, deals that become contracts. Not like the little thing Lucifer did to you last night,” he added quickly. “Soul contracts are different from anything you’ve ever experienced. Once a creature signs over their soul, both they and the provider of the contract are fully bound by the terms of the contract until one or both of those parties meets their ultimate demise. Let’s be specific and use Valentino as an example. If a human signs a contract with him, that means they get something- whatever it is they desire in life, in exchange for their eternal soul working for Valentino after death. The specifics of those working conditions are outlined in the contract they both sign. It is Valentino’s responsibility to ensure that the contract is upheld. It’s his job, honey. Slightly different from my job, or Vel’s, but the base idea is the same. We provided a creature something in life in exchange for their soul, and the details of that exchange are specifically outlined in a contract. Both parties sign and are bound.”

“That also being said that until that contract is signed, consent is required in my studio. No one is touched outside the specific terms of their contract,” Valentino added. “The girl they mistook you for- she was in the final process of trading me her soul in exchange for…well, that doesn’t matter really. As part of her repayment, she would work for me. She wanted to be roughed up. But until I had her on stage, under my cameras, she wasn’t to be fucked. I don’t make a profit off of things I don’t own.”

“Who would even sign something like that?” I asked.

“Oh my sweet baby girl. You would be shocked. And there are no loopholes in our contracts, right down to the word “knowingly”. I ensure my deals are made with solid understanding from both parties. We are cruel because we need to be. All of my contracts outline the requirement to be that way." Valentino tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "Those who are soft do not make it down here. And princessa, the consequences of me breaking my own contract are far, far worse than upholding it- for both myself and the other parties.” He finished softly. His hand fell to the top of my head, his fingers worked their way through my hair and down my back as he spoke.

“Valentino.” I looked up at him and laid my head on his chest, settling into him. That feeling of safety and security was still as strong as ever. “You were a different person in your studio. I watched you strike someone, you threw your glass. You yelled, you demanded. I’ve never seen you like that. Ever. But you, you’re so gentle to me. And you hold me. And you’re soft, and take care of me. Why is that?"

“Princessa. I am not your boss. I don’t play that part in your life because I don’t own you. You and Vox and Vel, we’re friends.” He bent down and kissed me gently. “Or in our case, more than friends. But my point is, we offer each other an escape- a life outside of work. I don’t need to be harsh to you, and I don’t want to be. Who we are at work is not who we are in our private lives.” His voice softened. “I can be myself around them. Around you.”

“But Vox and Vel, they don’t…they aren't cruel. Not like that.” I protested.

Velvette let out a short laugh, “you’re joking, right?”

Vox shook his head, “oh sweetheart. We are- just not to you. Same reason as Val just said. We don’t own your soul. We don’t own each other's souls. We live and spend time together because we like each other and enjoy each other's company.”

Valentino put his hand on the top of my head. “Think for a moment, princessa. Do you spend your day aside Vox? Or does he put you to work on a laptop, tucked away in a corner while he handles his responsibilities? When you’re in Velvette’s studio, are you next to her- or trying on outfits handed by her employees until she calls you to the stage? I assure you, mi amor- they keep you as shielded from the realities of their job as they possibly can.” Valentino heaved a sigh and ran his thumb over my cheek, brushing away some of the makeup Velvette had dabbed on. “I’m sorry you had to find all this out, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me. Learn that side of us exists.”

“But reader, I cannot stress this enough. You will never see that side of us, not in our home, as much as we can help it. Outside of these four walls, we are overlords. It isn’t just Valentino who plays that role. If you saw any of us in our actual positions, you wouldn’t recognize us.” Velvette added.

Valentino continued to gently stroking my hair. I sank into him. He wrapped his arms around me and settled me against him. “Vox doesn’t let the world know that he makes banana chocolate chip pancakes each Saturday morning- unless I beat him to it. And Velvette certainly doesn’t let anyone other than us know that she needs to be carried to bed after seven drinks.”

“That was rude.” Velvette snorted, glaring at him.

“Shush Vel. It’s true. And to the point, this is our safe place, here and with each other. Outside of the public eye. Our studios are not. From the moment we step inside, we become what we need to be in order to be successful.” Vox explained, leaning back and putting his arm around Velvette, pulling her to him. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

Valentino cupped my chin. “The world doesn’t see the Valentino cradles you until you fall asleep during movie night. That’s not the image the world can see. If they did, we would lose the hold we have over hell. The world is an evil place, princessa. We keep you shielded from it, or at least, we tried.”

Vox pulled a blanket over him and Velvette, mimicking the position Valentino and I were in. “Again, to that point, we very clearly failed. Which leads me to the next thing that needs to be discussed. What is our plan going forward? I, for one, think Lucifer was right.. I think it's about time we started to present reader to the publicly as both one of us, and the princess of hell. It might be stickier for awhile in public, but at least people will know exactly who she is and there will be no more cases of mistaken identity.”

Velvette considered and looked at me. “People won’t touch you if they know you’re a V. I’m all for it.”

I nodded. “That sounds good to me. But how?"

“Tomorrow, I’ll bring you to the studio. Make it very clear that you are not to be touched.” Valentino said firmly, giving me a soft squeeze.

Vox shrugged. “Same, but maybe not tomorrow. Gonna wanna give you time to heal. If you come out in public looking like that, it won’t go over well for anyone.”

Valentino laughed darkly and held me closer. “I’m sure Velvette has full coverage makeup. No, I’m not waiting. I’m not risking this happening again.” He looked down at me. “I want you in the studio tomorrow, at my side. I want to make it explicitly clear that you are one of us.”

“Did anyone think to run this by Lucifer? Before we- you know, out the existence of the Princess of hell?” Velvette asked, snuggling up to Vox. “I mean, I’m all for it. I’ve been dying to have her walk in one of my shows.”

“Of course. It was his idea to begin with.” Vox answered. “He’ll be providing additional protection as well- not that that aspect is any of your concern. I’ll handle it. And, I think he was impressed at the protection we gave her…after the fact.”

“I know I was.” I said softly, looking up at Valentino. “You stood up to Lucifer and he was….scary.”

“And worth it, for you, Princessa.” His fingers interlaced with mine. “I believe we answered your questions, did we not?”

I nodded. “You did.”

“So one more question for you and we will both have answered each other the same amount. Do you agree?”

I looked up at him. “I do. Why?”

“Because this is the last question I have for you for now, mi amor. And then I want you back in bed, resting.” He took a deep breath. “Princessa…are you sure you want to be here? Are you sure, even after the events of last night, that you feel safe with us?” He tilted my chin up to him, looking me in the eye. “You agreed to answer truthfully.”

Vox and Velvette stared at him for a moment.

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Valentino. I am sure I want to be here. You…even with what happened, you make me feel safe. I care about you.” I looked at Vox and Velvette. “All of you.”

“It should go without saying that we feel the same way.” Velvette said. She smiled and looked up at Vox, kissing him on the cheek. “I mean, who else can model AND carry a conversation?”

Vox nodded in agreement. “Of course we do. Outside the three of us, you’re the first one we’ve ever let into this space. Honestly, it would be weird if you weren't here at this point.”

“So it’s settled, I can stay?” I asked Valentino.

He looked pained. “You misunderstood me. There was never a question of could. It was a question of want. Do you want to stay?”

“Yes.” I said firmly. “I don’t think I can make my stance any clearer than that.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into him.

He kissed me gently, running his hands down my back. “Mi amor, you have no idea how happy I am at your answer. I’m taking you back to bed now. You need rest if you want to heal quickly.” He stood up, cradling my body to his as he turned to walk me down the hallway.

“Oh, Val? We’re working from home today. So if you need to go in…” Vox called from behind us. “We’ll make sure she’s well looked after.”

Valentino paused, his grip on me tightening. “I do, but not right now. She’s my number one priority at the moment. Maybe after she goes to sleep.”

I buried my face deeper into him at the thought of him leaving. He ran a hand down my back and carried me into my bedroom, setting me down on the bed. The medication had begun to wear off and the bruises were once again making themselves known. I knew from prior experiences I needed a hot shower and a round of anti inflammatories before the pain became unbearable.

I expressed this to Valentino. He frowned at my words.

“Princessa. I don’t…I don’t feel comfortable with you being by yourself for any period of time. Not right now.” He hesitated. “I suppose I could wait outside the door while you shower, but…”

“What if you just joined me?” I suggested.

He looked at me. “Princessa?”

“You’ve seen me naked yesterday, and probably before that. Fuck,Vox and half the world has probably seen me without clothes at this point. After yesterday, what does it matter?” I sank into the pillows. “And besides Val, if I could have any say over who gets to see me like that…I would prefer it to be you. Only you. Every time.”

“It matters to me because it matters to you.” Valentino said firmly. “And so you’re aware, other than Vox, no other person in that studio who saw you yesterday is breathing today. It was a direct violation of their consent clause- whether they knew it or not.”

I stared at him. “You killed them…even though they didn’t know they violated their contract?”

“It’s in the language.” Valentino gently cupped my chin. “Remember, I have an agreement I have to follow as well.” He leaned in and kissed me. “Princessa, if you’re sure, I would appreciate being by your side.” He helped me to my feet. “Preferably, right by your side.”

“Valentino, are you actually going to shower with me?” I teased.

He kissed me lightly. “Only because you asked, Princessa. And of course, to keep you safe.” He lifted me up and carried me to the bathroom, setting me on the counter. He reached into the shower and turned it on. He rummaged through a drawer and came up with a bottle of ibuprofen. I watched as he pulled a paper cup from the dispenser and filled it up with water. He handed me two pills and the cup. "Here. Swallow these. If you're still in pain after your nap and want a bath, I’ll run one.” He nodded towards the bathtub on the other side of the bathroom. “Maybe an Epsom salt bath if that sounds good to you."

“Mm, yeah. That could help.” I swallowed the medication and set aside the cup. Once that was out of the way, I reached for his shirt and gently tugged at it. "This needs to come off."

He smiled, “alright, babydoll. Settle down.”

“What? Val- you’ve seen me naked, wouldn’t you agree it’s only fair that I get to see you without clothes?”

That elicited a laugh. “Oh Princessa. You make a compelling argument.” He leaned in and kissed me before pulling off his shirt.

I took a moment to admire his body. I had seen glimpses of it before of course, moments when Velvette was adjusting buttons or other parts of fabric in the limo. And of course I felt it- rock hard body pressed against me when we snuggled. But this was the first time I had seen him fully shirtless. To say he was gorgeous was an understatement. Every muscle was perfectly sculpted, lean and perfectly put together. His jeans fell just below his hips, hugging every curve of his body.

“Like what you see, princessa?” He teased lightly, leaning in and kissing me.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone who wouldn't.” I said softly. “Damn, Val.”

He laughed again and undid the top snap of his jeans. “Ah, mi amor..” He leaned in and kissed me again, the rest of his clothing falling to the floor. He leaned in closer, obscuring my view of anything below the waist. “My turn to undress you.”

He pulled his tee shirt off my body, tossing it into the dirty laundry. Carefully, he tugged off my pajama bottoms and they joined his shirt in the hamper. He lifted me up and carried me into the shower.

I hissed as the hot water hit my skin. He turned his back to the water, protecting me from its sting.

“I’m going to set you down. Just lean on me, alright?”

“I can walk Val. I’m not…completely broken.” I said as he set me down, his hands on my waist as he made sure I was stable.

He tilted my chin up and kissed me softly, the steam building around us. “I know, princessa. Something tells me you would be…difficult to break.” He pulled me to him and gently guided me back under the water. “Come now, let’s get those muscles to relax.”

I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest as he gently rubbed my shoulders under the running water. I felt the warmth wash over my body. Under my head, he exhaled slowly, as if he was trying to control his breathing.

“Princessa.” He muttered, leaning back, both hands on my shoulders as his eyes studied my body. Somewhere in my brain I wanted to be embarrassed, to hide under his gaze. But for the first time, I felt comfortable being totally exposed to him. Somewhere in my belly, I felt something stir. I had felt it before, but standing next to him, against him, the feeling was stronger.

“Valentino.” I pressed my body into him. The pain I had begun to feel erased itself under the heat. “I have another question.”

“What is it princessa?” He leaned down and kissed me. “Ask away.”

“Does it hurt?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Does what hurt, princessa?” he asked with confusion and concern.

“What you do in the studio. Sex. I want to know. Is it supposed to hurt that bad?”

A horrified expression crossed his face. “Mi amore, no,” he said quickly. He shook his head and stepped forward and pulled me close to him, stepping his own body under the stream of warm water. “No. It doesn’t have to. Some enjoy the pain, the feeling of surrendering their entire body to another. They enjoy the punishment, the degradation. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It can be soft, gentle. Pleasurable in ways you never thought possible.”

“Show me.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then quickly pulled me to him, his lips pressing against mine. Any lingering pain vanished, replaced with a different feeling- a warmness spreading deep in my belly. I wanted him. Just him. All of him.

“You need to tell me if it hurts," he said as his hand ran down my thigh. “I need to know what feels good- and what causes you pain.” He leaned into me, pressing my back against the wall of the shower. I felt his finger slip inside me, then another. I let out an involuntary moan. He ran his thumb over my clit, drawing circles around the sensitive skin. I arched my back.

An explosion of nerves as his body pressed deeper into mine. I moaned, leaning into him, digging my nails into him as I tried to balance myself against the pleasure. “Valentino!”

“That’s right baby.” He pressed his lips against mine. “Come for me, my princessa.” His fingers moved faster, his kisses growing more and more rapid.

My stomach knotted as warmness spread through me, my vision flashing black as I felt an explosion in my belly, an explosion I had never felt before. I panted as the feeling of euphoria spread through every inch of my body., rendering me absolutely helpless. I felt his fingers slide out as I leaned my entire weight onto him. Against his thigh, I felt his cock twitch.

“Sex is fun, princessa. When you’re with the right person.” He whispered, holding me to him. “That’s my girl. Breathe.” I could see his conflicted expression as his eyes ran over me. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ve got you. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up so we can get you to bed.”

Balancing me against him, I felt him lather both of us in soap. He guided me under the water, rinsing us off before running a hand through my hair. He took a bottle of my shampoo and gently squeezed some in his hand.

“Close your eyes. I don’t want to get soap in them.” He ordered gently.

I did as he instructed, gripping onto him as the overload of my release slowly dissipated. By the time I was rinsed off and wrapped in a towel, propped back up on the bathroom counter, I felt like I could breathe again.

“Did you enjoy that, princessa?” He asked with concern, wrapping himself in a towel. “You’re quiet.”

“Val, that was…amazing.” I said softly, reaching for him. My body ached for more, hindered only by the pain I was very much starting to feel. “I want you. All of you.”

He took a deep breath as he surveyed my body. After a few seconds, he exhaled. “And you can have me. I promise. But not tonight. I’ll shatter you into a thousand pieces, mi amor. Especially, especially if it's your first time.” He pressed his lips to mine. “Your first time will be special. I promise. But you need to wait.”

I let out the most uncharacteristic whine. “But Val. I want you. Every single inch of you. And I’ve never felt this way before. Not ever. Please.”

“Another day, princessa. I want you too. Every inch of you.” His body pressed into mine and I could hear the struggle in his voice. “Waiting is testing every single fucking bit of my self control. But I need you to be okay afterwards, and right now I don’t think you will be. You’re still hurt, mi amor.” He leaned forward and kissed me, his breathing almost ragged. “I wouldn’t wait if I didn’t have to. Believe me. You’ve now officially seen me at my worst- and at my best. And gotten into the thick of everything I do in the worst possible way. And you still want me. Reach for me. Want me to hold you and be by your side. Princessa, my love, my heart. I will not rush what should be a magical night simply because I want you right here and right now. So please. Let me help you get dressed and come lay with me. The sooner you heal, the sooner the pain leaves you the sooner I can show you exactly what it means to be loved by someone as intensely as I love you.”

He wrapped me in his arms and against his chest, I could hear the frantic beating of his heart. His hand fell down the small of my back and looked up at him, pushing myself up to kiss his lips. Inside my chest, my heart soared. He did love me.

“Okay Val. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Until you think I’m ready.” I looked up at him. “I love you too.”

He held me tighter, kissing the top of my head. He let out another slow exhale. “I love you more than you could ever know.” He hesitated and ran a hand over my cheek. “I need to get dressed and get to work. And you need to get in bed.”

I took a comb from the holder on the counter and began to work through the knots in my hair as I watched him yank his tee shirt over his head, and then reach for his jeans. I frowned as he stepped into them. “Wait, why are you putting your jeans back on? I thought you said we were taking a nap.”

He took the brush from my hand, smoothing out either side of my hair as he carefully worked his way through the knots. “No. I said you need to rest. I need to work, and I’m going to work from home as long as I possibly can. But if I put my sweatpants on, snuggle you next to me and lay down in bed I’ll fall asleep right besides you. But I can’t sleep in jeans- I just can’t do it. Hopefully between them and my laptop I can get enough done today that I don’t have to physically go into my office. And you can still rest, right next to me where I can keep an eye on you.” He set the comb down and reached for the mirror and wiped away the steam, picking up his heart shaped glasses and adjusting them on his face. “There.”

I turned and caught sight of myself in the mirror. The deep blues and blacks of yesterday stood out starkly against my pale skin. I frowned at my reflection. The shower seemed to have brought out even darker colors.

Valentino saw me looking and quickly lifted me up off the counter, pulling one of his clean shirts over my head before lifting me up and carrying me to bed. One hand holding me, the other tossing pillows against the headboard. He sat down, adjusting me so that I was snug against him before reaching for his phone, laptop, and headset. I watched him open the laptop screen and hit the startup button.

“You should sleep.” He told me, running his fingers through my damp hair. “I’m just going to be working, and you can’t heal that pretty face without rest.”

“Pretty isn’t the word I’d use.” I mumbled, more to myself than to him. “I look like shit.”

“Excuse me?” He reached down and tilted my head up so our eyes met. His voice was gentle, but his tone was one of anger. “Care to say that again?”

“I…” I paused and thought better of it. “No.”

“Alright then. You will heal, princessa. But in the meantime…” He pulled me gently to him and kissed my forehead. “You are not allowed to insult your beauty. Understood? The woman I love does not deserve to be insulted., not even by herself.”

I nodded. He shook his head, unsatisfied with my response.

“Let me hear the words, so I know you understand.”

That burning feeling in my stomach coiled up as he spoke. “Yes, Valentino.” I closed my eyes and laid myself on his chest, the sound of his heart thundering under me.

“Good. Because the sooner you’re healed the sooner I can show you all the fun parts of being with someone you love.”

I felt him kiss the top of my head and curled up next to him, I fell into a deep sleep.

#the vees #valentino x reader #valentino x wife #valentino x you #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin fluff #the vees x reader #valentino #hazbin x reader #valentino x female reader #vox #valentino hazbin hotel

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imnotacryptid · 3 months

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Alexei Orlov | Callsign Kit

Call of Duty OC! I really enjoyed doing all the research to pull together his backstory details, and now I know that the British Military has a website dedicated to archiving like every kind of weapon ever, their uses, and when they were popular and why, which is incredibly helpful <3

Read below for Lore!

Alexei was born in Russia, but his parents move to Manchester when he’s 10 years old. He experiences a lot of neglect as a child, often left on his own, and tends to get into fights easily. He joins the BAF at 16 for the bed and regular meals. He excels within the structured routine and expectations of the military (it’s the undiagnosed autism) and moves into special ops by the time he’s 24 years old.

He joins the SAS and specializes in reconnaissance, sometimes functioning as a sniper when needed. He possesses an ungodly amount of patience, and crawling face-down for several kilometers doesn't bother him because of the repetitive motion. His keen eye for detail and ability to sketch out markers and guesstimate accurate distances lends him well to the role.

When he is 26 he is sent on a mission as a part of a task force to remove a drug kingpin in a city near Novosibirsk (chosen for his speciality and fluency in Russian) who has been making efforts to amass weapons of war. The objective was to find evidence on his supplier and then take him out. Things go wrong when intel provided to the task force does not account for the amount of men and the heavy guns they already had. Alexei’s own reconnaissance revealed slightly more men than expected, but the rest of the forces had been hidden, so the squad had thought they were prepared.

They are taken captive after being overwhelmed quickly once they move in on their target, and comms are jammed. Most of the task force is killed, but Alexei is used for translation purposes as he and what is left of the rest of the squad are tortured for information. Pretty soon the kingpin realizes that they won’t break/don’t know anything helpful to him, and discards the rest of them. Alexei had his tongue cut out in frustration by his captors when they could not extract information, and believing that the blood loss will kill him quickly enough, they move him into the pile to be burned with the rest of his squad that night. They were messy however, and missed the artery in his tongue. He manages to crawl into the shadows and eventually further into the woods where the bonfire has been set up. He packs his mouth with snow and ice, and once he makes it far enough away, cauterizes the wound. Once he makes it to Novosibirsk he receives medical treatment, and is then debriefed.

He enters back into the SAS once he finishes his recovery, partially because he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go, and partially because during his recovery when he is on leave, he desperately misses the lack of routine.

His callsign is ‘Kit’ which originates from several different places. It starts on one of his first mission swift the SAS, where he has to sit for so long in one spot in the middle of winter watching the target, that a group of feral cats curl up with him because of his body heat. He ends up scaring his Lt. half to death when he’s late back to base because of it, and his squad will never let him forget it. They start to call him ‘Kitty’, and additionally because of his silent tendencies, even around base, when they’re looking for him they’ll call “Hereee kitty, kitty, pspsps” As though they’re calling a cat.

Also, because of his tendency to doodle on his clothing, he often gets asked by other soldiers and higher ups that are unfamiliar with him ‘What the hell’s up with his kit,’ which becomes another double meaning for his Callsign.

At this point, and especially after his escape from capture, he’s learned to deal with the nicknames, and from those he is close to in the SAS, he appreciates the jokes. His squadmates don’t even think about it, and will shout from the common area kitchen “Want some Coffee, Kitty?” and Alexei, who has just introduced himself to a new soldier as ‘Kit’ will just have to sigh and accept it. (One time an FNG tried to call him p*ssy as a joke, but Alexei just decked him then and there, and that was the end of the matter. He didn’t get in trouble despite his Lt. standing right there watching, because the man essentially told the FNG that ‘hey man, you were kind of asking for it at that point’).

Common attributes/symbols: Prefers the AW Covert, AW50F and compact Glock 19, and a Fairbairn–Sykes fighting knife when in close combat. Tends to scratch doodles into his kit when he’s bored, and many of his clothes he wears on duty have cats, birds, and bugs sketched on the sleeves or on the thighs of his jeans.

Common activities/hobbies: He likes to keep track of the stray cats he sees around whatever base he’s stationed on in a small notebook organized by color, breed, and type. He also is often listening to music (when he can get away with it/when it’s appropriate), leaning towards mostly russian rap like Miyagi, Truwer, and Markul*(his favorite).

#cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #cod oc art #cod oc #call of duty oc #call of duty art #cod fanart #call of duty fanart #military oc #russian oc #british oc

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octopusmedical01 · 1 year

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Refurbished Heart Lung Machine Supplier in India - Octopus Medical

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poisonedjoinery · 2 years

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Filthy Secrets

Hank Voight / Reader (F)

Authors note: I like the thought of Voight being super protective, he's a good man.

Summary: When a building explodes, you and Voight end up trapped in the rubble for 18 hours. However, you neglact to mention the wounds you sustained sending Voight into a panic. The only issue? The rest of 51 can't grasp why Voight cares so much about you. You're just a firefighter... right?

Warnings: Mention of serious injuries, explosions, being trapped in a collapsed building. Mention of dying but being revived. Angst, If you think there needs to be other warnings, please do let me know.

Gif by: @smaoineamhsalach

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"I NEED A MEDIC NOW!" Voight came limping out from the collapsed building carrying your unconscious body. Brett was the first to get to him, then chief Boden, Ruzek, Atwater, Casey and a multitude of other people. Boden helped shift your body onto a backboard, Ruzek helping to hold up Voight.

"She... she took a load of shrapnel to the stomach. She passed out about ten minutes ago." Brett nodded, ushering Boden and the others to move you onto the ambo. Ruzek gripped Voight tighter,

"Come on boss, we need to get you seen to as well." Voight didn't want to move at first, watching as the ambo holding you sped off away from the scene.

"Boss come on, we got this." Finally agreeing, Voight let Ruzek walk him to his car.

"Keep up with that ambo." Frowning Ruzek nodded, peeling away from the chaos behind him. Voight kept quiet the whole ride to Med, he let Ruzek update him on everything that had happened between the time he went into the building, till the time he came clambering out. A huge fire had started in a building the intelligence team were watching. They had a gang under surveillance who were meant to be the newest suppliers of heroine. It seems, they were so new they didn't know how to balance the chemicals properly, causing the whole building to go up in flames. FireHouse 51 had showed up, and got to work battling the fire. It didn't take long for the fire to be put out, or it's occupants to be escorted out. Once it was clear, Voight asked Boden to be shown where it had started to see if any of their gang members were part of the new burnt features. Boden had grabbed the first person that passed, you. Of course it had been you, of all the firefighters on this job it had to be you that came past at that moment.

"(Y/N), would you be so kind to show Sergeant Voight where the fire started please?"

"Sure thing Chief." Nodding his thanks, Voight followed you into the building. You'd only been in there for a short while when something blew up, causing most of the building to come down around you, and that is where you had both become stuck for eighteen hours. EIGHTEEN! Voight had ended up with a piece of metal impaling his thigh, and you had taken shrapnel to the torso. But you hadn't told him at first, you'd wanted to help Voight and anyone else you could find.

"I'm a firefighter Hank, it's my job to help others." He could still hear your voice ringing through his head. He'd only realised something was wrong, when your face became pale. Wrenching open your fire coat, a wave of horror spread over him. You had multiple entry points in your stomach and side, and blood was slowly oozing out of all of them.

"God damnit (Y/N)!" He stripped off his outer layer, tying it around your stomach trying to stop the blood flow. He'd spent hours digging away rubble, trying to find a way out. The last time he had felt this panicked, Camille had become terminally ill. You were both lucky that you hadn't gone too far into the building when it had blown, he managed to make a gap that he could pull you both through.

"Boss?"

"WHAT!" Ruzek frowned at Voights outburst.

"I know you're angry, and injured but we're gonna get this son of a bitch okay?"

"Mmm." Nodding he turned to look back out the window, letting Ruzek's words wash over him.

---------------------------------------------------

Voight came down to the waiting room to find the whole of 51 in there. Boden stood up, extending his hand. Shaking it, Voight nodded at everyone in the room.

"How is she doin'?" Boden gave a frown, keeping his voice low.

"We don't know yet, they took (Y/N) in for surgery about three hours ago." Clenching his jaw, Voight put his hands in his pocket. Hermann came over, giving an appreciative smile to Voight.

"Hey uh... thanks for pulling (Y/N) out. I uh... she's on my rig and I appreciate you looking out for her."

"Don't mention it, she's a good woman. You should both be proud of her, she spent most of her time looking for any casualties and trying to get us out of there." Smiling, Hermann looked at Boden both of them showing pride. Doors swinging open behind them all, a surgeon walked out smiling half heartedly at the crowd of firefighters.

"I managed to remove all of the shrapnel, there was a lot of internal bleeding. So much so that she coded twice on the table... I..." Voight stepped forward quickly, anger rolling off him in waves.

"You mean died... she died on the table." Looking uneasy the surgeon nodded.

"Yes... but I have managed stop all of the bleeding and she is in the recovery room." Boden looked between both men, a frown forming on his face.

"Uh... thank you Doctor. Are we able to see her yet?"

"Yes, she is still asleep but feel free." Most of 51 got up and quietly made their way into your room, Boden, Hermann, Voight, Severide and Kidd all remained in the waiting room.

"You know you didn't have to get all rude to the Doctor?" Kidd said, eyeing Voight with a pissed off look. Turning, Voight watched Kidd for a moment then looked around at the rest of them.

"I just spent eighteen hours trapped under a collapsed building with her, so please excuse me for feeling a little concerned for her wellbeing." Boden stepped forward, wanting to calm everyone down.

"We're all concerned here Hank, but you don't need to get angry at the people trying to save her life or my team." Smirking Voight turned on his heel, Hermann piped up feeling his temper rise.

"Hey you know we care about (Y/N) a lot! We were just as scared when you brought her out, so don't act like you're the only one who cares for her. She is part of our team.. OUR family okay and.." Voight whipped round quickly, his temper at breaking point, not noticing Ruzek, Burgess and Atwater stepping in behind him. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, knew if he did he would have a whole damn house of firefighters come down on his ass.

"Uh... Sarge? We um... think we've found the guys. We're going to bust them now. Do you want in or..." Rubbing his face in frustration, Voight turned on his heel.

"Let's go." Shoving past Atwater, Voight headed out fire burning his blood.

----------------------------------------------

Prying your eyes open, you found yourself laying in a dark room with the quiet beep of machines around you. Glancing round, you realised you was in Med.

"Hey... how you feeling?" Looking to your left you found Brett sitting in a big arm chair. Smiling you sat yourself up wincing at the pain in your stomach.

"I feel like I've been used as a sieve for bomb fragments. But other than that, I'm fine." Reaching for your hand she squeezed it,

"We were all here, we're taking it in shifts to check on you." Frowning you looked over at where your uniform had been set aside.

"The explosion... what happened? Did anyone else get hurt?"

"It's okay, we were all out of the explosion zone enough to just get a few cuts and scrapes. It was only you and Sergeant Voight that got the brunt of it." You felt your face grow hot at the thought of Voight.

"Christ... was he okay?" You tried to sound casual but it clearly wasn't enough. Brett smiled softly,

"Voight... he's fine. The last I heard he was out with his team hunting the gang responsible."

"But...?" It was Brett's turn to flush this time.

"Well um... see while we was waiting to hear about your surgery, he came and waited with us. The surgeon finally came out and told us how you was doing, but Voight... he seemed angry at how injured you had been." Your heart was racing now, every thought going through your mind.

"He didn't say why he was angry... but... when we spoke to Burgess she said that he gets a bit over protective. He thinks it's his job to save everyone you know?" Nodding, you felt your eyes water slightly as you dropped your gaze.

"He was angry I didn't tell him about my injuries, that's probably why he was so angry." Glancing up at Sylvie, you gave a half smile.

"I kept my mouth shut about the shrapnel I had taken, I knew if I didn't try to get us out of there, I'd have lost my mind. I just..."

"Hey, you don't have to explain yourself to me (Y/N), I get it. It's part of our job." You wiped at your face. She leant in and gave you a hug,

"Tell you what, I'll come back and see you tomorrow. You get some rest okay?"

"Thanks Sylvie, you're amazing." You watched her quietly leave your room, smiling to yourself as you shut your eyes feeling the sweet lull of sleep pulling at you.

ONE WEEK LATER

You'd finally gotten out of the hospital and was now resting in your own home. Most of 51 had called in to see you, bring you food and check you was okay. You hadn't seen Voight, he'd been pulled into another case which was taking up all of his time. You didn't mind, usually you were both pretty busy with work. Looking around your home, you felt boredom set in pretty quickly. You'd been resting for over a week, you needed to get out take in the night air.

Freshening up, you pulled on clothes that didn't make you look like a college bum, grabbed your keys, and headed out to Molly's.

"(Y/N)!" Hermann's voice rang out over the crowd, causing the rest of second shift to turn and grin. Smiling, you waved. You had a lot of people come and hug you, pat you on the back. Taking a seat at the bar, Hermann handed you a drink, squeezing your hand.

"It's good to see you kiddo." Taking a swig of your drink, you smiled.

"Thanks Hermann. I'm glad to see you too." You sat quietly, watching everyone come and go from the bar. Kidd had joined you at some point and you'd had a few drinks before you heard a bit of a commotion at the door. Both of you turning, you saw Voight standing in the doorway, looking straight at you his face full of thunder.

"Oh girl I think you're in trouble." Spinning back round you saw Kidd's eyes widen as she got out of her chair swiftly moving away. Before you could call her back, you felt a heavy presence behind you. Slowly turning, you found Voight looking down at you.

"I've been looking everywhere for you... you weren't at the hospital... or home... I thought you'd... I thought." His voice was low and dark. Fear and frustration was rolling off of him.

"I just wanted some fresh air, and decided to come here." Hermann was standing close by, listening in. Voight leant closer, reaching out a hand to gently touch your cheek.

"I was worried about you." Hermann shook his head and stepped closer.

"Hey Voight, I know you care but you're being a bit much aren't you?" Voights eyes lit up with a fire as some of the others of 51 had started to listen in.

'It's okay Hermann." You could see both men getting more angry by the second.

"What... no he's being a jerk. You aren't the only one who cares about her... she..."

"We're dating Hermann!" You felt the whole bar go silent. Hermann's eyes went wide, his mouth half open. Voight looked down at you, a smile playing on his face.

"You're...you and... and and Voight?" Hermann seemed to be struggling with what you'd just told him, slowly looking behind you and saw the rest of 51 had obviously heard you too. Keeping your voice quiet, you leant into Voight a little.

"Yes... me and Voight. That's why he was angry at the hospital." Sighing you looked up at Voight.

"For how long?" Hermann sounded confused and curious all at the same time. Voight answered before you could, never taking his eyes off of you.

"Mmm... about a year and a half."

Hermann seemed to go pale, kicking himself that no one at 51 had figured it out. Sighing, you gently placed your hand on Voights side.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the shrapnel, and... and I'm sorry you were worried about..." Before you could finish, Voight leant down and kissed you softly his big hand gently tilting your head back. Pressing his head to yours he smiled,

"You don't have to apologise. It's who you are, putting others before yourself. It's how you're built, it's why I fell in love with you." He enjoyed watching the surprise light up your face. Reaching up, you ran your hand over his cheek.

"Want to get out of here?" Grinning, he hummed in agreement. Helping you off your bar stool, he placed his arm around your waist, walking you slowly to the door. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, heard Kidd and Brett whistle at you. Tilting your head up to him, you waited for him to lean in closer so you could kiss his cheek.

"Huh... what was that for?"

"I love you too Hank." Smirking, Voight reached out for the door guiding you both out into the warm Summer night.

#chicago fire #chicago pd #hank voight x reader #hank voight #voight x reader #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago fire fc #chicago fire fanfic #hank voight fanfiction

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