#who you callin father | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wheresarizona · 2 months ago

Text

but he’s the one I want

summary: All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch.

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound.

pairing: DBF!Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller/College Student f!reader (no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, DBF!Joel Miller, slightly possessive Joel Miller, pre-Outbreak, age gap, explicit consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, spit as lube, overstimulation, sex on stairs, body worship, slight body insecurity, getting caught, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, Die Hard is a Christmas movie debate)

word count: 11.5k+

a/n: Alexa, play “But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift. I don’t know where this came from (daddy issues), but I hope you enjoy it! Reader is freshly 21 in my head, Joel is 35 (it’s months before his birthday), and Tommy is 29. Let me know what you think! Big shoutout to @devineconjuring for going on this journey with me and betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Main Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s a Friday night; the sky is dark, but the porch light is on. You hug your jacket a little closer to your body to stave off the chill in the air as you wait outside the front door for someone to answer it. A masculine voice calls out, "Comin’!" Footsteps thud on the hardwood floor as they head your way.

Seconds later, the door is cracked open, and you’re met with the home’s owner, Joel Miller. Just the sight of him in his jeans and navy blue t-shirt has your heart rate picking up in speed, the man looking as handsome as ever.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you.

"Hey," he greets. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

University of Houston—go, Cougars!

You smile. "Three-day weekend—I have Monday off. I thought I'd surprise my dad since it's his birthday."

The confused look doesn’t disappear. "I coulda sworn he told me they were goin' to Vegas to celebrate a few days ago." ‘They’ being your father, stepmother, and your teenage half-brother.

“Well, I guess it slipped his mind to tell me they were going out of town. He must be getting forgetful in his old age.”

The relationship you have with your father is… complicated. It’s not bad by any means—you get along and love each other. He just wasn’t very present when you were growing up—he lived in Austin while you were with your mom in Houston, only seeing him a few times per year. Now that you have a car and your mom moved out of state last year with her new husband, you occasionally made the three-hour drive to your dad’s to visit and do your laundry free of charge. It was also where you now stayed on your breaks from school.

Joel opens the door a little wider and crosses his arms over his chest, your eyes moving from his face to admire the broadness in his shoulders and the muscles in his forearms. Having his full attention on you makes the nerves in your belly flutter around like a bunch of butterflies were let loose.

“He’s not much older than me,” Joel says. His eyebrow lifts. “Are you callin’ me old?”

The man in question happens to be one of your father’s best friends—or so you’ve been told. In all of the visits to your dad’s growing up, you could count the number of times you saw Joel on one hand. Over the past year that you’ve been coming to Austin regularly, you’ve had much more interaction with him, which has led to you developing a little bit of a crush. Who can blame you, though? He’s gorgeous—the chocolate-colored eyes, the hair that looks so soft, that perfect nose, and those kissable lips.

“If the shoe fits,” you reply with a shrug and a smile.

“Kids these days,” Joel grumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Did you come by just to call me old?” he asks.

“Oh, no. I was expecting at least one person to be at my dad’s, so I didn’t bother bringing my house key. I’m here to see if you possibly have a spare I could borrow—I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.”

Maybe he’d give it to you now…

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t.”

Hot and a sweetheart—how is he single? Is he single?

You frown, feeling annoyed that you drove all this way to Austin for no reason. You should’ve called ahead, but that was your mistake, assuming your family would stay in town for your father’s birthday. “This was a waste of gas,” you muse. “Love that for me. Well, it looks like I’m heading home, or maybe I’ll get a cheap motel room. Thanks anyway, Joel. Have a nice rest of your night!” You do a little wave at him.

You start to turn, but stop when he says, “Wait,” and you face him again. He opens the door wider. “It’s too late for you to be drivin’ all that way, and there’s no reason you should pay for a motel when I’ve got a guest room you can stay in. You can get a good night's sleep and leave tomorrow mornin’ when the sun’s shinin’.”

Again, a sweetheart—why hasn’t anyone snatched him up? Or have they?

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He finally offers you a friendly smile and moves to open the door all the way. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I was feelin’ lonely anyway with Sarah gone at a sleepover. It’ll be nice to have some company that isn’t my brother.”

Lonely? Nice to have some company? That sounds pretty single to you. Your night just got a lot more interesting. “Thank you so much! I’ll do my best to be better company than your brother.”

With that, you make your way inside, toeing off your shoes next to a pair of his work boots.

“That won’t be too hard,” Joel says as he shuts the door.

You stop in the entryway because you’re not quite sure where you should be going since you've never actually been inside his house. You only know where he lives because your father once asked you to drop something off here.

“Let me get your coat and bag.” You hand him your small purse, and he moves behind you, helping as you shrug off the long jacket you’re wearing, which he hangs up on a nearby coat hook with your bag. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks, and you look at him, seeing his widened eyes staring at your body. “Were you plannin’ on goin’ out tonight?”

You glance down at your outfit, and you can understand why he’d make that assumption at the sight of the cute little black dress you’re wearing—it only reaches mid-thigh and has a V-neckline to show off your breasts.

“Not going out—it’s laundry day. I do my laundry when I come to Austin, and this was literally the last clean thing I had.” Your eyes lift to see his glued to your chest, and you think that’s an interesting development. “I have spare clothes I keep at my dad’s that I planned on changing into.”

It’s the truth, and you’re a little thankful this was your last clean outfit. You can only imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been coming over here in a ratty old T-shirt, granny panties, and your Spongebob Squarepants pajama pants.

He clears his throat and looks away. A rosy blush appears on his cheeks as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I can put my jacket back on,” you tell him, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No, no.” He meets your gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine—do you need to use my washer and dryer?”

“You’re already being nice, letting me stay over. I can wash my clothes at the laundromat when I get home.”

“It’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you, but I’m good.”

“Okay.” His hands go in his pockets, and he seems to get very interested in the short console table against the wall, staring at the contents lying atop it—a stack of unopened mail and what you assume are his keys and wallet.

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted your evening?”

“Oh—” He looks at you again. “—I was watchin’ a movie. Would you like to join me?”

You smile. “Sure—lead the way.”

He takes you to the living room, where a movie is paused on the television, and lets you know you can sit anywhere. Your choices are one of two armchairs and a maroon leather sofa, and you choose the sofa while he heads for the kitchen.

“Would ya like a beer?” he calls out on his way to the other room. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond because a second later, he’s back at the doorway to the living room with a confused expression again. “Wait, are you old enough to drink…?”

The question makes you smile. “Yes, Joel. I’m old enough to drink.”

“Legally…?”

You giggle. “Yes. I can legally drink. You wanna card me?”

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Beer?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay.” He nods.

As you sit on the couch waiting, you become very aware of the situation you’re in. You’ve spoken to Joel one-on-one a handful of times over the last year, but it always happened at a barbecue or a holiday party—places where there were other people around—you’ve never been alone with Joel. This is new territory, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect, especially considering how he was staring at your chest.

Would you fuck him if given the chance? Yes, zero hesitation. Do you think you have a chance with him? Maybe, and that thrills you. Just two things are working against you: your age and the fact he’s your father’s best friend. Those are two hurdles you’re not entirely sure how to get over, but you’re definitely game to try.

Your conversations were always friendly in the past, and you’re proud to say you’ve made him laugh a few times. You think you could possibly charm him. What you know for sure is he’ll need to be very aware that you’re interested; otherwise, he won’t even fathom trying anything with you—thank god you’re wearing this dress. Nerves are swirling in your tummy at what could happen tonight, and you’re eager to see where things go.

Joel returns with two open bottles of beer, handing you one, and you thank him as he takes a seat right next to you. He leans forward to grab the remote and hits play before sitting back and taking a drink.

He’s so close to you that you get a whiff of his cologne—it has a spiciness to it and some citrusy notes that, when combined, smell amazing. It makes you think he took a shower when he got home from work today—and, suddenly remembering he’s a contractor, you imagine him shirtless and sweaty while using a hammer. The thought causes your mouth to go dry, so you lift your bottle to your lips for a sip, focusing on the TV.

It’s easy to figure out what he’s watching when you see Josh Hartnett in clothes from the 1940s.

“Pearl Harbor?” you ask, now holding your drink on your lap, picking at the label with your fingernail.

“Yeah.” His head turns your way, his beer resting on his thigh. “Have you seen it?”

Meeting his eyes, you answer, “Oh, yeah.”

He frowns. “Because it’s a girly movie?”

“Um, kinda? The guys are pretty easy on the eyes, and the story is interesting. I wouldn't say it’s super girly. Sure, it’s a romance, but there’s so much action and drama about the war in it.”

“The back of the DVD said nothin’ about it bein’ a romance.”

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” you ask.

He sighs and looks back at the television. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then enjoy it! If anyone asks what we watched, I’ll tell them Die Hard.” You lightly pat his thigh closest to you, feeling the muscles tense under your palm.

His gaze returns to you. “You’ve seen Die Hard?”

“Yes. A few times.”

Because it’s your dad’s favorite movie.

His upper body slightly turns your way, his arm going behind you on the couch. The closeness and the attention he’s giving you make your skin heat.

“I want you to settle somethin’ my brother Tommy and I disagree on—have you met Tommy?”

“Once.” At a barbecue. He didn’t catch your attention like Joel did. “What am I settling?”

“Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“What…?”

“Tommy is fuckin’ convinced that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and I say it’s just another action flick. A good one, but definitely not a Christmas movie.”

It takes you a second to process what he asked.

“I mean,” you start, “it takes place on Christmas Eve, at a Christmas party, and I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that John McClane happened to be there to save the day. So, yeah, it’s totally a Christmas movie.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Just ‘cause it takes place on Christmas Eve at a Christmas party doesn’t mean it’s a Christmas movie.”

You point the neck of your beer at him. “You forgot John McClane being a Christmas miracle. Makes sense to me that it’s a Christmas movie.”

He takes a deep breath. “So, are you tellin’ me that—what the fuck is that movie called?” His eyes leave you as he thinks, trying to remember the name. “Lethal Weapon!” He looks at you again. “So, you’re tellin’ me that Lethal Weapon would also be a Christmas movie? Have you seen that one?”

Yep, with your father.

“I have, and yeah, it’s a Christmas movie. You’ve got drug dealers using a Christmas tree business as a front, Christmas is mentioned all throughout, they use a bunch of Christmas songs, and it ends at Christmas dinner. Absolutely a Christmas movie.”

“Say you’re messin’ with me, darlin’. You know what a Christmas movie is, right?

“Yeah, you’ve got the heavy hitters—It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol—then those stop-motion ones that are delightful. I’d put Die Hard and Lethal Weapon in the same category as Home Alone.”

“Why the hell do you think Home Alone is a Christmas movie?”

“It’s set during the holiday season, and there’s a ton of Christmas imagery and music. Plus, you’ve got Kevin going on a similar journey as the main character in It’s a Wonderful Life where, in the end, he realizes how much he loves and needs his family—sounds pretty Christmas-y to me.”

His jaw clenches, and it’s seconds before he inhales deeply and looks back at the TV.

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, shaking his head. “They’re fuckin’ Christmas movies.” He takes a long drink of his beer.

You grin. “They are indeed,” you reply and pat his thigh again.

His bottle lowers, and he looks over at you. “Even though you somehow made a dumbass like Tommy make sense, you’re definitely better company than him. He’d never let me live this down.”

He’s visibly relaxed, and you have, too. The fact he’s enjoying you being there has calmed your nerves, and you’re having a great time talking to him. Plus, he’s nice to look at.

“Then it’ll be our secret,” you say. “Like how we’re totally watching Die Hard right now, and not—” Your eyes go to the TV, and they widen. “—the one sex scene in Pearl Harbor.” It’s nothing too risque and honestly kind of lame.

Joel looks, too. “They’re just rollin’ around on the ground…”

“It’s PG-13, Joel. I don’t know what you’re expecting from a movie where they can only say fuck once, and titties are prohibited.”

His head turns your way. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, and when your eyes land on his, you find that he’s smiling—your heart skips a beat.

“A good something or a bad something?”

“A good somethin’.”

You share his expression. “You’re something else, too.”

“A good somethin’ or a bad somethin’?”

“A very good something.”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, his attention returns to the movie. Joel clears his throat, then chugs the rest of his beer, leaning forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table.

When he sits back, his arm is still behind you on the top of the couch, and he scoots the tiniest bit your way to have your bodies touching.

It’s clear that there’s a shift to the energy in the room, and the tension becomes palpable—he likes you, and you think there’s a possibility he more than likes you with how close he is. The thought has your heart pounding, and you’re unsure what to do next. You’ve only been with boys your own age, and Joel is so much older and more experienced.

The panic has you blurting out, “Are you seeing anyone?” Then, backpedaling, “Not that it’s any of my business, so don’t feel obligated to answer.”

He looks at you, and you keep staring at the TV, almost wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m nosy.”

He huffs in amusement. “You only wanna know ‘cause you’re nosy?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No other reason?”

“Can’t think of any.”

“Okay—no, I’m not seein’ anyone. What about you? You got a boy back in Houston worryin’ about you?”

“Nope.”

“Really?” The genuine surprise in his voice has your head turning to see the matching expression.

“What’s so shocking about that?”

He frowns. “I beg your pardon, darlin’. It just doesn’t make much sense that someone as pretty and fun as you doesn’t have a line of boys waitin’ their turn to take you out.”

Those butterflies in your stomach are flapping around again.

“Not really.” You shrug. “Plus, the guys my age usually only want sex but aren’t very, um, giving, if you know what I mean.”

Now he looks grumpy. “Selfish boys,” he grumbles, and it makes you smile.

“So, not an issue with someone older like you. Good to know.” You squeeze his thigh and keep speaking so he can’t reply, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you single?”

For some reason, he can’t look at you now, focusing on your hand. He reaches across his body to grab yours with his larger one, staring at your fingers. He lets out a long, weary sigh, his thumb rubbing against each of your dark blue-painted fingernails.

“Women don’t particularly like that Sarah is the most important person in my life and my top priority…”

“But she’s your daughter, she should be your top priority.”

“That’s the logic, but they want me all to themselves and don’t like sharing.”

“Joel?”

His face lifts to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve dated some truly shitty women.”

He smiles. “I guess I have. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve given up on datin’. It’s just a waste of time.”

“That is such a shame.”

His dark eyes get even darker. “You’re trouble.”

“Why am I trouble?”

His eyebrow arches. “Your daddy would kill me.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second as you take in the statement—he’s into you, he’s really into you. Now, what are you going to do?

“Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask and move to put your beer on the table. When you sit back, you cuddle a little closer into his side. “You were worried about me driving home in the dark, so you offered me your guest room—we watched Die Hard, then turned in for the night. You’re a stand-up guy for keeping your friend’s daughter safe.”

His eyes move from yours to your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face—his palm is so big his fingertips almost reach the back of your head. He starts leaning in, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought that he’s going to kiss you, and you stop breathing when his lips are only a hair’s breadth away from yours.

And then he pauses.

“Tell me why you really came here tonight,” he rasps.

That confuses you, your brows pulling together, and you sit back to see his face. “I did? I needed to see if you had a spare key to my dad’s house.”

His eyes are on yours. “Bullshit—there’s no way this just happened to be the last outfit you had.” He looks directly at your tits.

“It is if you wait super last minute to do your laundry, and I told you, I have other clothes at my dad’s. Why do you think I came over here?”

His gaze goes back to yours. “With that dress you’re wearin’ and how you keep lookin’ at me, for a lot more than needin’ a key.”

“You thought I came over here to seduce you…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” You gently pat his cheek. “You think I’m way bolder than I actually am—me coming here and the outfit was not premeditated.” You shake your head.

His eyes round, and you’d think he was burned by how quickly his hand leaves you and how he moves away a little to put space between you. “Fuck, have I been readin’ this wrong?”

You scoot to have yourself against him again. “The assumption I came here specifically to seduce you was very wrong. But you’re right that I definitely want you to fuck me, Joel.”

“Shit,” he breathes out and scrubs a palm over his face. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

Turning his way, you rub your hand along his jeans-covered thigh. “No, I’m not,” you tell him. “Stop thinking, and kiss me.”

His hand lowers. “Not thinkin’ is gonna get me killed.”

“Not thinking is going to get you a blow job and pussy.” You press your palm between his legs over where you can feel he’s already hardening. “Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal—you can come anywhere you want.”

His eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you smile. His reaction makes you brave.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go back to watching the movie and pretend nothing happened. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and we’ll go as far as you’re willing to go.” Your hand moves up to hold his cheek, and it’s a good sign when he leans into your touch as you stare into his eyes. “But I’m going to make myself crystal clear, Joel. I want you—badly. You’re beyond sexy, and the fact you’re older and have a lot more experience than me is a big turn-on. I’d love to know what good sex is like for once and maybe have you teach me some things.” You shrug your shoulder. “It’s up to you, though. Just know I’m more than willing.”

This kiss is unlike any you’ve experienced before. You’re used to overeager boys practically shoving their tongues down your throat the first chance they get, yet here’s Joel claiming your lips—you can feel his every want and his desire for you with how thoroughly he kisses you. The soft pillow of his mouth moves with yours, his scent filling your nose—hints of the beer he drank and his spicy cologne imprinting this moment in your mind. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head goes dizzy from the arousal igniting in your belly.

Just one kiss and you know you’re ruined for anyone else.

His arms go around you, and he mouths at your chin. “Come here,” he says against your skin. “Get in my lap.”

You do as you’re told, bunching up the bottom of your dress at your waist and moving to straddle his thighs. His hands go under your clothes to grab your ass, and he’s so surprised to feel bare skin he leans back with the confused expression you’re becoming intimately familiar with.

“You really didn’t come over just to fuck me?” he asks. His palms wander, and you know he’s discovered your thong when he hooks a thumb under its stretchy waistband—they were the last clean pair of underwear you had.

“I really didn’t.” You’re curious about something. “But if I had, what are the chances that I would’ve succeeded…?”

“With this dress and a little convincin’? Pretty good.”

You smile. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and smart. I know this is a bad idea, and it’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I’m so fuckin’ lonely, and you’re just too damn temptin’ to pass up.”

The truth is clear in his eyes and makes you kiss him—your fingers comb into the hair at the back of his head, finding it softer than you thought it’d be. It starts off slow and tender, just lips to lips, until Joel deepens it, the tip of his tongue making it past your lower lip. Hearing that he’s lonely tugs at your heart, and you want to do everything you can to make that loneliness disappear. Things start to heat up, and all you can do is follow his lead, moaning as he explores your mouth with his tongue. With his palms on your backside, he helps you rock your hips, grinding yourself against his hard cock beneath his jeans, rubbing your clit just right to fan the flames growing in your core.

When you finally need to come up for air, his hand grips your chin to turn your head as you pant, Joel kissing and nipping at your skin from the base of your neck up—tingles wash down your spine when he nibbles on your jaw. He gently bites your earlobe, and you gasp when his hot breath tickles your ear.

He huskily whispers into it, “You want me?” His hand fondles your breast.

“Yes.”

“I can touch you?”

“Anywhere.”

“I need you to be a good girl and tell me when you do and don’t like things—understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he purrs.

The way those two words make your cunt clench has you moaning, ”Fuck.”

He easily unzips the back of your dress, tugging the garment up and over your head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. You’re sitting astride his lap, the dark pools of his eyes taking in your mostly naked body, his big hands massaging your bra-covered breasts. It’s surprising that being under his gaze, you don’t immediately feel self-conscious, and you think that has to do with how he’s looking at you—the desire and appreciation clear as he admires you.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nodding towards what he’s touching.

“Yes.”

He sits up straighter, and it’s quick work for him to get your bra off, it landing on top of your dress. He’s focused on your tits, holding them in his palms, weighing them. He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and the sudden shock of pleasure has your breath catching in your throat, your fingers grabbing handfuls of his shirt for something to hold onto. When he grazes his teeth over the stiff bud, your entire body shivers—your panties have a wet spot from your pussy leaking your arousal for him. He gives your other breast the same attention, leaving your skin shiny from spit when he comes off of it with a wet pop to look at you.

“Lie down on the couch, baby.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “Your head all the way at the other end.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You scramble out of his lap, the couch’s leather creaking as you crawl over to where he instructed and sit back on your elbows to see what’s happening. Joel grunts as he gets up to stand, watching in interest when he squeezes the noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans. His arm goes behind his head to grab his shirt, pulling it up and off of his body to bare his torso.

At seeing so much of his golden skin, your jaw goes slack—his freckled chest is so broad, tapering down to his trim waist, his abs showing a little bit of muscle definition you think is from doing manual labor and not working out. Your eyes fixate on the happy trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure could get used to you lookin’ at me like that.”

That has your attention snapping up to his face, where you find him smirking, and you close your mouth.

“Sorry,” you apologize, your eyes darting away from him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. Makes me feel pretty fuckin’ great about the shape I’m in.”

You look at him again. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re in great shape and so hot—you’re really down to fuck me?” You point at yourself.

He kneels on the sofa by your feet, his hand on the back of it to steady himself.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t know your daddy, and you were a stranger I met in a bar, I’d bring you home in a heartbeat. I feel like a real lucky son of a bitch that someone as young and pretty as you has any interest in an old guy like me.” He lifts one of your legs and gently kisses the inside of your ankle, the sweetness of it making you melt a little.

“Oh, I’m very interested in you.”

“Is that so?” he asks and spreads open your legs. He crawls over you, and you lie back, Joel nestling his hips between your thighs for you to feel how hard he is as he dips his head, kissing up the column of your throat—the nerves in your stomach flutter wildly.

“Yes,” you whisper and need to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso to press your palms against the warm skin on his shoulders—his body shudders, a rumbling groan coming from his chest.

You squeak in surprise when his lips are suddenly on yours, kissing you hard.

He takes over all of your senses—he’s all you see, he’s all you feel, he’s all you taste, he’s all you hear, he’s all you smell. It’s him, and him alone—his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his weight on top of you. Your fingers thread into his hair, moaning as he takes over your very world, reveling in this feeling of being wanted.

His lips leave yours, both of you breathing a little heavier. His teeth gently sink into your chin before kissing along the underside of your jaw.

He speaks into your skin, his words muffled, “I’m very interested in you, too. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” His mouth ends up at your ear, and he quietly asks, “Can I eat your pussy?”

“Oh.” The question surprises you. “I’m usually the one who asks. Do you want me to blow you first?” There was always a quid pro quo when it came to oral.

His head lifts to look you in the eye.

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“You’ve been with some truly shitty boys.”

It makes you laugh, and he smiles.

“Ain’t that the truth,” you reply.

“It should always be ladies first—may I?”

What a gentleman.

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” he says and pecks you on the lips.

He doesn’t immediately move off of you, and it catches you off guard. Instead, his mouth blazes a trail, kissing down your body—your neck, your chest, and your belly. This is when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head. Joel is getting up close and personal with your imperfections—your scars, stretch marks, cellulite, all those little details you normally kept hidden in the safety of dark rooms or under shirts when you hooked up with someone. Now, you’re basically naked, the lamp is on, and he can see it all, which makes you feel uneasy.

He kisses just above your belly button, then below it, going lower and lower until he places one last kiss on your panties, over your mound. He sits up on his knees, tracing the lines and curves of your thighs and hips with his large palms while he drinks you in as you lie there—you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence is broken when Joel speaks. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your eyes seek out his face where you don’t find any deception, but you have to ask, “Really?”

“Really.” He nods. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His attention goes to the apex of your thighs, and the pink of his tongue swipes along his bottom lip as if he’s imagining how you’ll taste. He strokes the pad of his thumb over the visible damp spot on your underwear, his other hand squeezing his cock that’s straining in his jeans.

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, too,” he says, and gets his fingers under the elastic waistband on your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, the air cool against your now bared skin. He shuffles back a little, then bends forward, spreading your lips open with two fingers as his face hovers over it. You think your heart might beat out of your chest with how fast it’s thudding, your skin feeling so hot. “I fuckin’ knew it, such a pretty pussy,” Joel murmurs. He circles your clit with his thumb, and the pleasure has every muscle in your body tensing and your eyes closing. “You’re gonna taste so good.”

He loudly groans as he drags the flat of his tongue along your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

“Oh, god,” you moan, your body squirming at how good it feels.

Joel has to pin down your hips with an arm across them to keep you still, his face buried in your pussy. He goes straight to the source, lapping at your entrance to taste your arousal while the tip of his perfect nose rubs against your bundle of nerves, his facial hair prickling your skin.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re fucked.

It’s not even a minute in, and you can already feel your orgasm taking shape low in your belly, the muscles beginning to wind up. If you thought the first kiss ruined you, you know you’re ruined by how eagerly he’s eating you out—who knew this could be so good? You have to wonder how you’ll ever be able to fool around with anyone else when Joel is all you’ll be able to think about or compare it to—this is the only moment doubt invades your mind. You feel like this is all a mistake, but it’s quickly squashed by how unbelievably horny and curious you are.

His mouth lifts, and you whine at its loss. “Gimme a second,” he pants. “I gotta see how tight you are.” That’s when one of his thick fingers presses to your soaked opening, and he slowly starts to push it inside.

The slight stretch makes you gasp his name, your fingers clawing at the sofa’s maroon leather.

“Christ,” Joel says. “You’re squeezin’ me. With how fuckin’ tight you are, I’d think this is your first time.”

You sit back up on your elbows and open your eyes to look at him.

“You just have massive fingers, and it’s been a while.”

His gaze meets yours as he smirks. “Well, I’m gonna loosen you up with my massive fingers, and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. His head dips, flicking his tongue side-to-side against your clit when you feel the sudden pressure of his second digit pushing into you—there’s even more of a stretch and the delicious feeling of being full. You fall back on the couch, tangling your fingers into the brown waves of hair on his head, moans falling unbidden from your lips. His digits crook as they pump in and out of you, sliding along your upper wall when they press into something that elicits white-hot pleasure, making you keen and wiggle under the hold he has on your lower half.

Yeah, you’re totally and completely fucked.

He’s relentless with his mouth and fingers as you careen toward your end, free-falling in the throes of pleasure. He’s really going to get you off, and you think you might be in love with him. Is that crazy? Falling for the guy you absolutely should not fall for—that you can’t even have any kind of future with—because it’d ruin both of your lives, especially his.

Why does that make you want him more?

You definitely understand now why Eve ate the forbidden fruit—the temptation leads to such sweet gratification when you give in.

He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, sweeping his tongue around it, and you can hear the wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into your cunt. Your thighs are trembling—you’re so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re coming with an unintelligible cry. Your body seizes up, euphoria exploding out from your center, radiating to your fingers and toes. Joel removes his digits, his tongue taking their place to catch every bit of your slick he can get, groaning as he lets no drop go to waste.

You’ve never come so hard, feeling a little floaty as you ride out your high, your chest heaving heavy breaths. With how shaky your arms and legs are, you’d think you were out in the freezing cold.

Joel’s mouth comes off of you and he sits up, rubbing his hands along the outside of your legs.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says. “Was it good?”

“Was it good?” you parrot back at him and push yourself up into a sitting position. “It was more than good, Joel—oh my god, it was amazing.”

The bottom half of his face glistens in the lamplight, his shiny lips turning up in a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You still wanna fuck?”

“I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

He chuckles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He’s off the couch instantly, and you watch as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and gets his jeans undone, shoving them and his boxers down his legs so fast it makes you giggle. He’s balancing on one foot, peeling off his sock, and you finally get a good look at his dick—it’s hard and bobbing between his legs, the tip flushed red and shiny from precum, and your eyes round at how big he is.

“Second thoughts?” he asks, taking off his other sock.

Your gaze rises to his, seeing he’s frowning. “No.” You shake your head. “It’s more, ‘I sure hope that thing fits inside me.’”

He crookedly smiles, his chest puffing up a little. “It’ll fit—I promise.” And he has the audacity to wink at you.

Just as quickly as he got off the sofa, he’s getting back on it, kneeling in the space between your spread thighs. His attention is on your pussy, rubbing the tip of himself against your swollen clit and through your wetness. Nerves swirl in your belly, along with arousal, his free hand giving your hip a reassuring squeeze before he’s spitting on his fingers and slicking up his cock. He notches himself at your entrance, and your heart is in your throat as you hold your breath.

“Just relax, baby,” he says. “You can take me.”

He slowly starts feeding his hard length into you, making you gasp when the fat head breaches your slick cunt, your eyes squeezing shut, your fingers digging into the couch’s leather cushions. A groan rumbles from his throat, and you answer with a drawn-out moan as he burrows his thick cock deep inside you, your tight walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. Full doesn’t even begin to describe how stuffed you are—he’s hot inside you, almost searing, and you can feel him pulsing. He bottoms out and goes completely still, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasps. “You okay?” His thumbs stroke circles on your skin.

“Yes.” It comes out as more of a squeak. “I just need a second.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Darlin’, baby, and now sweetheart when his dick is inside you? Is he trying to make you fall in love with him?

He bends at the waist, one hand on the couch holding up his weight while the other massages your breast, his lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the sparks of pleasure going straight to your pussy. Your fingers wind up in his hair; what he’s doing to you has you whimpering at how good it feels and only makes you wetter where you’re joined. He pulls each of your legs up to rest on his ribs while his mouth moves higher, kissing your sternum and up the arch of your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you squirm underneath him.

His hands end up on either side of your head, his lips leaving behind a wet streak of kisses along the hinge of your jaw to finally ghost over yours—you can feel his breaths and smell your musk. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much more for your mouths to meet.

His nose nudges yours. “Need more time?” he whispers.

Enough has passed that you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You slide your palms up his back to his shoulders.

“No,” you answer just as quietly. “You can move.”

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in as his mouth claims yours, muffling your sounds when he sets up a rhythm of long, hard strokes. You’re gone—all rational thoughts go out the window, and the only thing you can think about is how his cock is moving in and out of you. It’s so distracting you’re having trouble kissing Joel back because your brain keeps screaming, ‘so big, so full, so good.’

You’re feverishly clutching at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving crescent moon imprints and scratches you’re sure will bleed on his golden skin, Joel moaning into your mouth. It surprises you when you feel the familiar tension of another orgasm making itself known deep in your core, the pressure rising with each thrust, the angle of them causing him to slide against spots you never knew existed, and you don’t ever want this to end.

His lips leave yours, pressing his forehead to your cheek. He’s breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he keeps the same pace.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this pussy. Just wanna stay inside it until my dick is all it knows.”

Your legs are quivering, your body is burning up, and you can’t get enough of how fucking good this feels. One time—one time—and you’re addicted, you’re drunk on the pleasure and will do anything—anything—for this to happen again.

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Oh, god, it’s yours!”

His lips move to your ear, huskily asking, “It’s mine, baby? Your pussy is mine? I’m fuckin’ ya that good?”

You’re so out of it and lost in the lust you start babbling, “Yes, it’s yours—fuck, ruin me,” you whine.

“That’s what you want, for me to ruin your perfect little pussy?”

“Please—make me feel it. Make me ache to have your cock inside me again. Make me yours.”

He growls, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s immediately pulling out, your eyes springing open in time to see him sit up on his knees.

His big hands grab hold of your waist. “Flip,” is all he says, and you find yourself getting manhandled onto your front, Joel tugging you up onto your hands and knees. He wastes no time sheathing himself back inside you, pushing in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

Joel’s hips are flush against your ass, the full length of him seated all the way inside of you—you can’t think, your mouth open in a silent cry. He’s filling you to the absolute brim, and it becomes evident your cup has truly runneth over.

He was right, though. It did fit.

A shuddery breath escapes you. He only allows you a moment to get used to the new fullness before he’s pulling out until just the tip of him remains and snapping his hips forward hard enough it knocks the air from your lungs—this is how you learn what it’s like to really be fucked, and fucked good.

His fingers dig into the skin on your waist, pulling you back as he thrusts forward at a pace that has you lightheaded, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids each time he presses against that heavenly spot inside you.

Warmth grows in your belly, the sounds from the TV overshadowed by the filthy cacophony of skin hitting skin and the audible wetness of his cock working in and out of your used cunt—he’s grunting with each stroke, your moans stuttering from the onslaught.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks through gritted teeth, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust.

It’s a struggle to gather your thoughts and form a response with how good he’s fucking you.

A palm lands on the side of your ass in a loud smack, the sweet sting causing you to clench around him and whimper.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he says. “Is this what you wanted?”

All you can gasp out is a single word. “Yes!”

“Am I fuckin’ you good?”

“Yes!”

He’s pounding into you at a near-brutal pace, the fire inside you only getting hotter as each second passes.

“Look at me,” he orders.

It takes everything in you to turn your head and look over your shoulder. Joel is a sight to behold—a flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, the sweat on his skin making it glisten under the lamp’s light, and his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, his jaw clenched.

He slows, his gaze on yours.

“You wanna be mine?” he asks.

“Yes.”

The moment your answer leaves your lips, he’s blanketing your back, holding himself up with a hand on the couch, the other going under you to palm your breast and tweak your stiff nipple with his fingers.

He lightly bites your earlobe, his facial hair scratching your cheek when he kisses it.

“I’m gonna make you come,” he says through heavy breaths. “Then I’m gonna fuck you full of me—you want that?”

A shiver moves through you, and you gulp.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His hand smooths down your front over your stomach to between your legs, where he starts circling your clit with two fingers. It’s like a live wire along your spine, electricity sparking in your core—that added to the sensations of his cock splitting you open and pushing in and out of you has you rocketing toward your release.

“You gonna come for me?” His hot breaths fan over your ear. “You gonna let me feel you come all over my cock? Come on, let me have it—come for me.”

Joel’s bent over you, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers deliciously swirling around your throbbing bud as he grunts in your ear with every thrust, all of it driving you higher and higher to your end.

You’re so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—the muscles in your belly pull tight, your orgasm ripping through you, gasping Joel’s name. He sucks in a breath when your pussy clamps down on him, then loudly groans, continuing to fuck you through your high, and doesn’t stop—his fingers keep up their assault on your clit, and his hips snap into you in quick, short bursts that extend your high. You come, and come, and come to the point your arms give out, and your body shakes and twitches from all of the pleasure coursing through it.

When you think you can’t take any more, relief washes over you that Joel follows suit. With one last thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside you as he falls forward, his front framing your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He comes with a dirty, rumbling groan—you feel his dick thicken and pulse, hot spurts of his spend filling you. He grinds his hips, fucking it as deep as it will go, then stills.

The movie’s ending credits are playing, hearing the music and your and Joel’s ragged breaths as you both come down. He’s at the same awkward angle as you, with your hips up and your faces down—his sweaty chest is pressed to your back, your bodies sticking together everywhere they touch. It’s not the most comfortable position, but with how your limbs tremble, you’re not entirely sure you can even move.

You asked him to ruin you, and oh boy, did he deliver—you’re absolutely, positively ruined. It kills you that after whatever this night is, you’ll have to go back to subpar sex with guys who couldn’t find the clit if they were given a map and detailed directions. This is the second time tonight that you fear you’ve made a grave mistake hooking up with Joel, and the post-sex clarity is not helping the situation at all.

What were you thinking?

That’s easy; you weren’t. Or, at the very least, you weren’t thinking with your brain. Your pussy took the lead on this one, and it looks like she’s gotten you into a bit of a situation.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Joel’s arm wraps around your middle, and he turns you two onto your sides, the couch just barely wide enough to fit you both.

“Tha’s better,” Joel slurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. His hand over your stomach feels around until he finds your smaller one, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest—oh, he’s cuddling with you. It’s unexpected and nice. You close your eyes and enjoy this taste of intimacy.

Many minutes pass before he mumbles something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry,” you start and are immediately embarrassed by how hoarse and scratchy your voice sounds from all the sounds you made tonight. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

He turns his face so it’s out of your hair.

“I asked if you wanna stay over,” he says.

You smile. “Are you getting forgetful, Joel? You said I could stay over when I got here.”

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he grumbles, and you giggle. “What I meant was, do you wanna stay in my room? With me,” he clarifies.

“Only if you’re okay that I sleep naked—I’m not wearing my dress to bed.”

“Was kinda hopin’ you’d be naked.” He kisses your shoulder. “But if you’re more comfortable wearin’ somethin’, I can get you one of my t-shirts—it’s no big deal.”

“It baffles me that you’re single.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because you’re incredibly sweet, amazing in bed, a great father, very handsome, hardworking, and just an all-around catch. If I had the opportunity, and you know, there wasn’t the elephant in the room—” The fact he’s much older than you and one of your dad’s best friends. “—I’d date you in a heartbeat. If you ever give dating a shot again, you’re going to make one lucky woman very happy.”

“Fuck,” Joel groans, letting go of your hand to press his palm to his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

That makes your stomach drop, and you frown—he’s regretting everything, and you can’t blame him. The post-sex clarity is a real bitch sometimes.

“Stressing for no reason,” you reply. You’re pretty sure you can walk, so you get up from the sofa, ignoring how wobbly your legs feel and his come leaking down your thigh. “Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask, looking toward the floor for your clothes. “You let me stay the night ‘cause you were worried about me driving home in the dark.” You carefully bend down to pick up your thong, followed by your bra and dress. “We watched Die Hard,” you continue, straightening to stand. “Then turned in for the night to our respective bedrooms. You’re a real stand-up guy for caring so much about your friend’s daughter’s safety.”

You can’t even look at him, focusing instead on the TV where the Pearl Harbor DVD’s menu is on screen.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Tryin’ to pretend nothin’ happened.”

“You clearly wish nothing happened, so nothing happened—where’s the bathroom?” You need to clean up, and you’re tempted to just leave altogether.

“Up the stairs, second door on the right—when the hell did I say I wished nothin’ happened?”

“You didn’t have to. Your ‘what the hell am I doin’?’ was enough for me to get it.” You hug your clothes closer to your body. “Anyways, thanks for tonight. I think I’m just gonna use the bathroom and get out of here. I don’t want you to worry, so I’ll stay at that cheap motel by the highway.” The sign said it was twenty-something dollars a night, and you can swing that. You start heading toward the stairs.

“Hey, stop.” You don’t. You keep walking, willing the unshed tears in your eyes not to fall.

Why are you so upset? You’re well aware that this can only be a one-time thing. It was something fun and sexy where you got to fuck the older, unattainable guy you’ve been crushing on for a while. It wasn’t anything serious, and couldn’t be anything serious, because there’s no future for you two together. Not when he’s a good friend of your father’s. That kills any chance of having a relationship with Joel.

What hurts is he regrets it and wishes it never happened—you’re a mistake, and who wants to be someone’s mistake?

His heavy footsteps sound behind you. “Darlin’, stop,” he says again, and you continue ignoring him. Fingers latch around your bicep and lightly tug. “Please, stop for a second. Talk to me.” Finally, you do as he’s requested, standing still in front of the staircase. He turns you to look at him in his big brown eyes, his hands holding your arms.

“I don’t wish nothin’ happened,” he says. “You were talkin’ about how if things were different, you’d date me, but since they are the way they are, you won’t. I was thinkin’ to myself ‘what the hell am I doin’ wishin’ you’d change your mind,’ when I know it’s for the best.”

“Oh—really?”

Hope swells in your chest, butterflies fluttering around in your tummy.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Tell me you want nothin’ more to do with me, and I’ll grab you a towel and some of my clothes so you can wash up and retire to the guest room unless you’re truly set on stayin’ in a motel. In that case, I’ll pay for your room somewhere safer and much nicer, so I know you’ll be okay. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and I’ll take you up to my bedroom so we can shower, either together or separately, whatever you’re comfortable with. Then we can get into my bed where we can talk and figure things out.”

It sounds like he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing, either, and that makes you so happy you let your clothes fall to the floor to throw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. Joel groans, his arm sliding behind your back, hugging you closer to him, his other hand cradling your cheek. Suddenly, he’s backing you up until your heels hit the first step, and he guides you to sit on a higher one, Joel kneeling on a lower stair to be at the right height that his hips slot between your thighs when he lays you back. He licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

With how good he made you feel tonight, how wanted, you need more of him. There’s a looming fear in the back of your mind that this is too good to be true—that you’ll never be with him like this again, which makes you desperate for him. Your hand snakes its way between your bodies, taking his half-hard cock into your palm, slowly stroking it—a low rumble comes from the back of Joel’s throat. He gets his hand to the juncture of your thighs, sliding his fingers through the puffy lips of your sex, gathering your arousal and his come on his fingertips to rub at your swollen clit.

“You’re mine,” he says into your lips.

“I’m yours,” you answer.

This is how you end up fucking on the stairs, Joel thrusting into you at a pace that has your toes curled and your fingers gripping his ass—your spine tingles from his mouth exploring your neck, mapping out the spots that make you gasp and moan, and you’re in heaven.

A door slams shut on the other side of the railing, and your eyes fly open.

“Hey, Asshole!” a man calls.

Joel’s hand covers your mouth, and you watch the intruder walk through the dining room to the kitchen without seeing you.

“I brought over pizza so you can stop bein’ a sad and lonely sonofabitch!”

Joel immediately pulls out and gets off you, using his strength to help you flip over. “Upstairs,” he whispers, tapping you on the hip, and you go as quickly and quietly as you can with Joel following.

You make it to the second-story landing, and he grabs your hand, tugging you all the way down the hall into what you know is his bedroom by how it smells like him. He closes the door and locks it before beelining to his dresser, roughly pulling out one drawer from which he grabs a burgundy t-shirt, then another that he gets a pair of stretchy gray sweatpants.

“Is this a dress?!” Is yelled from downstairs. “Do you have a girl over?! Who’d wanna fuck your sorry ass?!”

Surprisingly, the clothes in Joel’s hands are not for him; he shoves them into your arms and ushers you over to his bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” he says, flicking on the light, the fan automatically turning on. “It’s Tommy. Stay in here, and I’ll kick him out.” Obnoxiously loud footsteps are coming up the stairs, and he has to take a deep breath, his eyes to the sky like he’s praying God will smite his brother right this second. “Lord, give me strength,” he breathes.

“Where would you even meet a girl?!” Tommy asks from the hallway. “All you do is work—you never go out.”

Joel pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be right back—stay in here,” he tells you again, and this time, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

There’s banging on the bedroom door, and your ears perk up as you put on the clothes.

“Go home, Tommy,” he says.

“Not until I know who this pretty dress belongs to.”

“Give me that—it’s none of your fuckin’ business. Leave.”

“Come on, Joel—we know the same people. Did you finally give in to Nikki? She’s wanted to go out with you for a long fuckin’ time.”

“No, and it’s still none of your fuckin’ business who I have in the house I pay for. So, get goin’, or I’m gonna make you go.”

“You can be a real dick, Joel. Why are you bein’ so fuckin’ secretive?”

“Do I ask about who you take home from the bar?”

“No, but—”

“Exactly,” Joel interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do in your spare time, and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you what I do in mine, so leave, Tommy—I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“With how fuckin’ grouchy you are, I don’t think you got laid at all—I’m gonna get goin’ ‘cause you clearly need the company of a woman. Bye, mystery woman with the pretty dress hidin’ in Joel’s bathroom!” he yells. “Hopefully you can cheer this fucker up! Enjoy the pizza!”

It goes quiet, and you think Joel left the room, too. You can’t go anywhere, so you decide to take in your surroundings—the bathroom is cleaner than you’d expect from a single man, you have to put the toilet seat down when you pee, and as you’re washing your hands, you notice there’s only one toothbrush in a cup.

You know you shouldn’t snoop, but you pull open the medicine cabinet and find an extra tube of toothpaste, some Tylenol, Ibuprofen, a thing of pain relief cream, then a shelf with a few medicine bottles that intrigues you—prescription pain pills, antidepressants, and heartburn medication. No red flags, but you’re a little worried about how much pain he’s in. You close the cabinet, and soft knocking on the bathroom door makes you jump.

“You can come out,” Joel’s muffled voice says. “He’s gone.”

Walking over to the door, you open it, Joel leaning against the doorframe in a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants he must’ve put on before talking to Tommy.

He sighs. “So, that was my brother.”

“Seems nice—if I remember correctly, he’s younger, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains how annoying he is.”

He smiles, and an amused huff leaves him. “Yeah, he’s annoyin’ alright.”

“We have the house to ourselves?”

“We do—I walked him out myself.”

You grin. “Wonderful.” You grab a fistful of his shirt. “Because I think you said something about us showering together, and I’d like to do that right now, then go eat pizza—I’ve somehow worked up an appetite,” you tell him and pull him forward; he happily comes your way with a smirk.

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” he asks, his eyes on your mouth.

“Yes. No clue how.”

He closes the distance, his lips almost touching yours, when he replies, “Let me remind you how,” and kisses you.

An hour later, you’re walking down the stairs clean and in your borrowed clothes.

“Can we eat then go to bed?” you ask, through a yawn. “I had classes today, and that long ass drive, plus all the sex. I’m so damn tired.”

Joel’s behind you in just his sweatpants.

“I’m fuckin’ tired, too. That sounds good to me.”

The only lights on downstairs are the lamps in the living room. You walk into the dark kitchen, Joel flipping on the light as he follows, and you head for the stove where the pizza is, popping open the box to see it’s pepperoni.

“I’ll grab us some plates,” Joel says, rubbing your upper arms. He kisses the top of your head before stepping over to a cabinet.

Turning around, you’re about to ask Joel where the cups are when the dining room light comes on, Tommy standing by the switch. You gasp in shock; Joel’s immediate reaction is to grab a knife from the knife block and get between you and the unwanted visitor—it takes him a second to recognize it’s his brother.

“Goddammit, Tommy!” Joel shouts and slams the butcher knife onto the countertop. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?!”

“No,” his brother answers, shaking his head, and he looks a little too amused. “But you sure the hell are! Her?!” He points at you and has the audacity to laugh. “Oh, god, Joel,” he says through his glee and grabs the back of a chair, his other hand on his chest as he chuckles. “Her daddy is gonna kill you—you’re fucked!”

Joel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, perching a palm on his hip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking.”

“You are!” Tommy calms down, and his shit-eating grin annoys you. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks. “I mean, I know what you were thinkin’. I just can’t get over you not only robbin’ the fuckin’ cradle, but bangin’ your best buddy’s daughter. How long has whatever this is—” He gestures at you both. “—been goin’ on?”

“It just happened tonight—I don’t need you lecturin’ me on right and wrong. I know it’s a fucked up situation.”

A fucked up situation? Ouch. The comment has you crossing your arms over your chest, staring at the floor.

“Fucked up is right, and I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how you’re gonna get out of it. Her daddy finds out about this, and he’s gonna shoot you deader than dead.”

“I told you I didn’t want you lecturin’ me.”

Tommy puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m not lecturin’. I’m just statin’ the facts. I wanna make sure you know this thing between you two could get you killed. You’ve got a daughter, Joel—what would you do in this situation?”

“Woah,” you interrupt, moving to stand beside Joel—Tommy’s comment about Sarah is a fucking nuke you need to try and hopefully defuse. “First of all, I just want to point out that I am a consenting adult and can fuck whoever I want. Second, I need to set the record straight and say that my dad isn’t going to kill anyone. He’ll be mad as hell if he finds out, but he isn’t going to commit murder because, truth be told, he’s never given a fuck about my life choices. I’d also like to add that this is kinda his fault for not having me visit more often because now Joel and I are pretty much strangers, and this whole thing isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

“It’s still pretty bad, honey,” Tommy replies, his attention turning to you, smiling.

“Maybe, but it’s also nobody’s business who I fuck.”

“Sure, but this person you fucked is one of your daddy’s best friends whose—no offense—way too old for you.”

“Why does everyone keep callin’ me old?” Joel grumbles.

Tommy looks at his brother. “‘Cause you are, you old man.” He suddenly looks like he just realized something. “Wait a goddamn minute,” Tommy says. “Joel, are you havin’ a midlife crisis? You’re around the age people have those, right? It’d make sense why you’d risk your life to fuck her.”

“Get out, Tommy,” Joel replies, pointing toward the front door. “I’ve had enough of you.”

His younger brother pouts. “‘Cause I called you old?”

“Out.”

“Fine.” He slowly starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair so the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!”

The door loudly closes as he leaves.

Well, you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen now. Between the comment about Sarah and the other things that had been said, you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel ends this. You might as well cut your losses and get it over with to save yourself from more heartbreak.

Your eyes are on the ground, the first tear falling down your cheek. “After all that, I know whatever this is is probably over,” you quietly say. “But is there a chance I can still sleep in your bed with you tonight? And if you’re willing, have you hold me?”

He turns and pulls you into his arms.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” he answers and kisses your hair. “But I’m gonna need you to stop.”

You lean back to look at him with watery eyes. “Stop what?”

A sad smile is on his lips. “Jumpin’ to conclusions without talkin’ to me. You’ve already got one foot out the door, and I haven’t even opened it.”

“It’s just everything Tommy said.”

He lightly squeezes your biceps. “Tommy was bein’ a little shit. You were right when you said this isn’t as bad as it sounds, but you gotta be honest with me about somethin’.”

“What?” you ask.

His hands come up to hold your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Are you positive your daddy won’t kill me? I’ve got Sarah to think about, and even though I like you a lot, I’m not gonna risk dyin’ to be happy.”

The sweetest man and the best father.

You think about it for a second, and the sad truth is you can’t imagine your dad killing anyone for you—he doesn’t love you that much. He doesn’t love you to the same degree that Joel loves Sarah. With how easily Joel grabbed a knife to protect you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d kill for his daughter without hesitation.

“He’ll be pissed off, but he isn’t going to kill you. We also don’t need to tell him anything unless this turns into something. We can keep it to ourselves for now.”

He hums in agreement. “You know, if you wanted, you could start comin’ here to do your laundry...”

You smile. “How will you explain that to Sarah?”

“That I’m helpin’ you out, which is true. Plus, I’ve got the guest room.”

“Uh huh, the guest room that I’ll sleep in?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“Alone?”

“I sleepwalk.”

You snort. “Stop it.” You playfully push his chest. “Sarah is not gonna believe you sleepwalked into the guest room.”

He snatches your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “Who said anythin’ about Sarah knowin’ I’m in the guest room, or you bein’ in my room for that matter, while she’s sleepin’? There are also nights like tonight she spends with friends.”

“You really want me to hang out here?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have company that isn’t Tommy.”

“I believe that. As long as I’m not a bother, I’ll do my laundry here.”

He smiles. “Not a bother, and you can wash your clothes tomorrow and stay another night. You could even stay over Sunday, too, since you have Monday off—you’re more than welcome.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Yes, Joel. I will spend my long weekend with you.”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Good.”

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joelmillerisapunk · 8 months ago

Text

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words.

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises."

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim.

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter.

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.”

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.”

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.”

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you.

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze.

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—"

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you. Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release. As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,” he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office.

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him.

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin’ else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk.

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.”

As you step out of the car, the cool air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again."

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller. you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness.

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal

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itgetzweird08 · 6 months ago

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one two three four

katsuki bakugo x Gn!reader

“What's up your ass?”

Mitsuki asked her son as she tailored his suit. It was the weekend, which meant he was at home. While he was there his mother insisted on fitting him for his suit, despite the dance being a month away. “Nothing hag, stay out of my damn-“ Katsuki didn’t even finish his sentence before his mom smacked him in the back of his head. “WHO YOU CALLIN HAG? THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Katsuki’s palm’s sparked in anger but before he could retaliate, his father chimed in from the desk in the corner of his parents’ work room. “Katsuki, we can tell when something’s wrong. What is it, son?” His dad’s eyes were soft, and Katsuki (reluctantly) backed down. He always had a soft spot for his dad. “Nothing- I just think this dance is fucking pointless.”

Mitsuki tilted her head in confusion as she fiddled with Katsuki’s pant leg. “Why? You fuckin love dressing up, as much as you pretend not to. You are our son after all.” and that was true, being the son of two of Japan’s most popular designers did make Katsuki have a passion for fashion. While he did prefer street wear, he appreciated a good suit every once in a while.

“Cuz y/n won’t be here to be my date and I ain’t taking no one else. Plus, even if I wanted to, half the class is paired up already. Better off not even fuckin going”

it was rare to see Katsuki pout, but this was one of the rare times he would do so. He always pouted when he thought about how far away from him you were. If he thought about how much he missed you for too long, he would try to busy himself with something else. It made him pretty productive, actually. Your face popping up on his mind a bit too much? He does his homework early to distract himself. When his heart is calling for you? He heads to the gym and blasts music in his ears to drown out the wistful thinking. But he couldn’t do that right now. All he can do now is stand here and wish for your presence.

Katsuki had told his parents about you right before the war. Actually, if he had died during the battle, he made them swear that they would give you his favorite skull tshirt and a letter he wrote. Luckily though, while it was a close call, that never had to happen. But since then, you’ve talked to his parents a few times. His mom, to your surprise, was especially fond of you and would always ask Katsuki about you when they saw him. It didn’t bother him though, he would take any excuse to talk and brag about his person.

“It’s a shame y/n won’t be able to be there, but you shouldn’t throw away the whole dance because of it. Plus I’m sure it would break their heart if they found out you weren’t going because of them.” Masaru told his son softly, only earning a shrug in response. Katsuki knew his father was right, but he was still disappointed. Mitsuki stood up and ruffled Katsuki’s hair, which earned her a glare that she completely ignored. “Have fun at the dance, brat. That way, you can tell y/n all about it when it’s over.”

———

After Katsuki had gone back to the dorms, Misaru and Mitsuki sat together on the couch. Misaru held his wife close, playing with her blonde, spikey hair as Drag Race played on the television. While her husband was locked into the show, Mistuki couldn’t focus. In fact, her mind was completely elsewhere. She couldn’t help the way her heart ached for her son. As often as they butt heads and argued, he was her only child and her baby. He had been through so much in the past three years, and she only wanted the best for him. She was always so supportive of his hopes and dreams, and only wanted him to be happy. He deserved it. It pissed her off that even during a time for celebration and happiness, her son would still be upset because he couldn’t bring the person he cared for most.

As the commercials rolled, Mitsaru looked down at his wife, and pressed a soft kiss to her head. “What’s wrong?” He asked her, earning a grumble in response as she looked up at him. “M’just thinkin bout Katsuki… it ain’t fair that he’s put his entire fuvking life on the line to save the damn country, hell the world even, but he can’t have this one thing. I just…” she sighed heavily, yet Misaru understood. He reflected her feelings as well. He wanted Katsuki to be happy with his friends at this party. Gears in his head began to turn, as between him and his wife, he was the problem solver. He used logic and empathy to solve issues, as Mitsuki usually charged in head first.

After a moment though, a light bulb went off in his head. “Mitsuki…have we asked if she can’t come? I mean, I’m sure Principal Nezu would understand. All Might as well, he’s fond of Katsuki and has a lot of connections. We should see if anything can be done!”

Mitsuki was silent for a bit as she thought about the suggestion, and eventually sat up and turned to Misaru. She beamed brightly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I knew I married you for a reason. I can send Nezu an email and set up the meeting…but let’s keep this from the brat for now, I don’t wanna get his hopes up.”

———

A/N: a little shorter but next chapter is pretty long! FYI, in the back of my mind, reader is the same reader from my endeavor’s secret daughter one shot. But that’s just me!! It’s not required to read that to enjoy this, it’s just a fun little tid bit. I’m gonna try and finish this mini series within a week because I have to move into my dorm in a couple weeks. Lmk if you want to be tagged going forward!

———

Tag List: @sleepyeri @teeesthings @zaiban2989 @kathsuhki @rinbeeyum @oladelmars @getosuckers @luv-for-fictional-characters @attackonnat @ratcity12345 @bffrs-stuff @ch3rryjampi3 @venus1224idkpleaze @fiannee @consentismfhot @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @bl-og134

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princessbrunette · 10 months ago

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you couldn’t help it. he was your dads favourite friend. yours too.

above all, you felt safe with him — perhaps because he was the youngest of the bunch, it felt there was a more mutual understanding between the two of you. it was no secret that he loved to flirt with you, between offering you trips on his boat to your dad — likely just to get you alone, and the often implications he’d throw into casual conversation when you’d mention another boys name, along the lines of “listen kid you don’t need a boy you need a man. these suckers aren’t gonna satisfy you, can tell you that for free.” as he inhales cigarette smoke, fingers drawn to his lips outside at a work party for your dad that you’d invited yourself to.

he’d pulled up in that expensive car of his that you loved so much after you’d called him, begging him to pick you up. he even gets out the car to open your passenger seat door, taking note of the way you were more tipsy and loose than usual, tits practically falling out your top. “jesus, be careful would you?”

once driving away, you notice him licking his lips, glancing at you as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

“what’s that look for?” you giggle, rubbing at your thighs to warm up. the action makes him clench his jaw, flicking on the cars heating system just a tad — just so you’d stop tempting him. despite all the flirting, he was never quite sure if he could risk going through with it with you. he couldn’t lose this job, not after his own father had cut him off after starting his thirties.

“fuck are you doing out at this time, huh? does — does your dad know?” he blinks obviously at you, glancing away from the road for a second and you notice his hands tighten on the wheel when he sees the way you’re gazing at him.

“no! i’d like to keep it that way. i didn’t tell him ‘cos i didn’t wanna get in trouble. you’re not gonna get me in trouble right, mr cameron?” you lean over the centre console, tilting your head like a sad puppy. his eyes flutter in irritation and arousal, and he tongues at his cheek.

“nah… no… and i already told you to quit callin’ me that shit when i’m not working. it’s rafe.”

“mm, okay rafe. terribly sorry.” you smile to yourself, sitting back in your seat. there’s a short silence, before his curiosity gets the better of him.

“so— so who’s party was this anyway? you hangin’ out with boys?” his eyes slide over to you at the red light, his handsome features illuminated by the red glow.

“what if i was?” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head and lifting a hand off the steering wheel in exasperation.

“just a question. alright?” he thinks for a moment. “n’i told you already not to do that. trust me — okay — i was that age. it’s bad news for you… m’just tryna help you out here.” he resigns, shrugging.

“maybe you just want me all to yourself.” you walk your fingers along his leg — and this time he actually laughs, but it’s nervous, looking out his window as if to avoid looking at you all together. “wha’s funny? you’re the one always flirting with me.” you bat your eyelashes but he stares straight ahead, eyes hanging low.

“are you wasted?”

you sit back in your seat, arms crossed. “you should be nicer to me you know. i’m your bosses daughter.” your tone is braggy, chin held high with dignity.

“yeah, you’re my bosses daughter. s’exactly why i cannot be too fuckin’ nice to you, okay? can — can you do me a favour here? i’m trying to do the hard thing here and act right. if i did what i really wanted to do you’d probably just go runnin’ off to tell daddy, so… please.” he rants irately, a stiff hand held up between you. you stare at him, your bratty pout transforming in a conniving smile.

“what do you wanna do to me, rafe? ‘said if you did what you really wanted to do… so tell me what you want to do to me.” you lilt, turning your body in your seat which made your skirt hike up a little and your tits press together. he sighs, dropping his head for a moment and scratches his cheek at his slip up before giving you a warning look.

“don’t ask me that shit, okay?”

“i wont tell, i’m really good at keeping secrets.” you smile brightly, and he continues to stare — nearly missing the light turn green.

“that right.” he deadpans and you nod.

“mhm. anyways, funny story — i’ve been getting really good at my stretches. totally unrelated, but you know i can get my knees up by my head now? i’d show you, but there’s not much space here. there’s probably… a lot more space in the backseat.” you lean forward once more, and he continues to stare ahead, driving. “c’mon, rafe. don’t you wanna see? no one has to know.”

“alright, okay — shit. you want it so bad, i’ll give you what you fuckin’ want. jesus— you know, it’s about time you learn to stop teasing grown men, understand me?” he swivels the wheel, briskly pulling into a parking lot nearby and parking the car so haphazardly that you jolt forward when he pulls the brake. “what — are you havin’ second thoughts? huh? no? get in the back before i change my damn mind.”

“okay, rafe.”

“and thats mr cameron to you now, a’ight? go on.”

#divider by gigittamic #okay but dbf!rafe with bratty spoiled ex prom queen cheerleader kook reader !!!! my new fav thing #dbf!rafe #rafe cameron prompt

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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The Old-Fashioned Way

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution? [Soulmate AU]

AN: Happy Valentine's Day! ❣️ Welcome back to the Never Say Goodbye-verse, my first ever Soulmate AU! Feels appropriate to celebrate today with some soulmates lol.

Honestly, I have really missed these two. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I wrote this series! And I’ve been wanting to find a way to come back to it, so when I recently got this request, I couldn't resist:

The reader finds out she is pregnant and Dean’s reaction.

But of course, I couldn’t make it that simple… This story takes place five years after the Bonus Tracks (3-part sequel).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship (marriage). Soulmates, angst, issues in pregnancy, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied smut.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Today marked five years that Dean had been an officer of the Sioux Falls Police Department.

After twenty-eight odd years of committing felonies of varying degrees…mostly for the greater good, he still found it strange sometimes.

He’d been partnered with his father-in-law, Jack, and by now, Dean had finally lost his sense of “imposter syndrome.”

Jody bought him a pie to commemorate the occasion, and while a little embarrassed, he wasn’t mad about it. The precinct employees now shared the dessert on paper plates from their respective desks and cubicles.

Dean sat in the bullpen with Jack (who was on a call), Jody, and even Jessie Deluca, the boy he’d once arrested for stealing candy and groceries from a gas station.

Well, Jessie wasn’t such a kid anymore. He was now their 18-year-old intern.

“How’s the boysenberry?” Jody asked Dean. Her lips curved upward when he turned to her with a crumb-covered smile.

“Real good,” he said.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I can’t with this. Come ‘ere.”

She grabbed a napkin and leaned over to wipe at his mouth the way a mother would her errant child. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he snipped.

“You look like my five-year-old son after a round of SpaghettiOs,” she said.

“Makes you wonder how his wife deals with him,” Jessie muttered under his breath while he entered expense reports into his computer. Never mind that he had a purple berry stain around the corner of his mouth.

Dean shot him a wry look, along with his crumpled napkin.

“I don’t wanna hear that from a punk like you,” he teased. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since…what, junior prom?”

Jessie fended off the stained napkin with a grimace. But he also smarted at the dig. His arms crossed defensively as he leaned back in his chair.

“As a matter a fact, I’ve got a date on Friday,” he sniffed. “And no, I’m not telling you her name.”

Dean and Jody shared an amused look.

“Aww, look at him, pretending he’s got a date,” Dean said. He fought a deeper grin when Jessie threw the disgusting napkin back at him.

“Fine! Her name’s Annie. You happy now?” Jessie said.

Dean shared another look with Jody.

“Aww, he’s actually got a date,” said Dean. He smirked at the kid next. “Lemme know if you need to borrow some cologne. Chicks dig that.”

“Ugh,” Jessie groaned. He leaned his elbows on his desk and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He knew he’d be catching flack on this for the rest of the week.

Dean chuckled, but before he had a chance to tease their intern some more, his cell phone rang. It was you, and he felt his good mood continue as he answered.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, how’s the day going?” you asked.

“Good,” he replied. “We’re on lunch break. Jody got me a pie for my five-year mark at the PD.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet…literally. She knows you too well,” you laughed.

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she really does.”

“Tell her and everyone else I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said with a smile. “You just callin’ to check up on me?”

“Well, that, and…when are you getting home tonight?” you asked. The smooth, leading note of your voice had Dean’s lips curving into a smirk.

“Ah, well…” He pushed away from his desk and stepped away from the bullpen for a little privacy in the hall. “That depends. What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say…I have an idea,” you replied. It had Dean’s brows raising. You’d been having a lot of ideas for the past year, and he’d been more than ready and willing for most of them.

“Oh, yeah?” he intoned. While he leaned against the wall in the main hallway of the precinct, his arm crossed under his elbow as he continued holding the phone to his ear. “What’d you have in mind?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” you said.

It only took his brain about a moment and a half to compute.

“All right. In that case, I’ll try to be home promptly at six, barring there’s no shootouts at the 7-Eleven,” he quipped.

“Ugh, please, don’t even joke about that,” you said, your tone sobering.

Dean realized, without even having to read his soulmate’s thoughts, that you were reminded of the last time an explosive incident happened at the local gas station, just two weeks before their wedding day. He dimmed as well.

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he said, swiping a hand over his mouth. “Uh…okay. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“Okay, be careful,” you said. You always said it—in the morning, whenever he left for work, whenever you two managed to talk during the day. It was routine, but it also wasn’t.

And you still wished him a good rest of his day before you hung up. Dean pocketed his phone and returned to the bullpen, where Jody was putting away the rest of the pie. He eyed her just to know exactly where she was setting it down in the kitchen, for future reference.

Jessie peered up from his computer and asked if that was you on the phone.

“Yeah, she says hi,” Dean replied.

Jessie smirked. “‘Course she does. I’m her favorite.”

Dean shot him a look, knowing the kid liked you probably even more than he liked Dean. You’d become like a big sister to Jessie…but it didn’t stop Dean from occasionally being annoyed.

“Shut up and eat your pie.”

Dean arrived that night, more or less on time, to find that you’d cooked up a feast. It was laid out across the dining table: steak, scalloped potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and even freshly baked cornbread with butter.

“Is it my birthday again?” he asked, despite it already being February.

He ventured into the kitchen where you were getting two bottles of beer. You looked up at him with a smile when he came over and held you from behind. You enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against your back, while his hands found your hips.

“I cook all the time, Dean,” you pointed out. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head in greeting.

“Hmm. Yeah, but now my spidey senses are tingling,” he said.

You set down the beer before turning in his embrace and twining your arms around his neck. Already he could feel your anticipation through the soul bond, but that was all you were letting him sense. You were keeping your walls up a bit, to stop him from hearing your thoughts. In this case, it felt like a tease.

You tilted your head, a smile playing across your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Oh, yeah.”

You laughed and let him greet you properly with a kiss. You returned it, affectionately caressing his cheek, but you stopped him before he could start pressing you harder into the counter. You held up a placating hand against his chest.

“Wait, wait, the food’s gonna get cold,” you said. And all too quickly, you’d extricated yourself from his arms and went to finish placing the silverware on the table. Dean begrudgingly followed suit by helping you with the glasses and plates.

Dinner was delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a steak that good; you two had been scrounging and saving to get out of this apartment and buy a house, along with other things you and Dean had been planning for your future.

By the time the leftovers were put away and the dishes were put in the dishwasher, he started to sense that you were ready to come around with the real reason you’d called him at work today, let alone made such a nice and expensive meal. You went over to where he stood at the kitchen sink and rubbed his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Dean tried to stifle his knowing smile. “Yeah?”

But when he looked over at you, he realized you seemed nervous, not flirtatious. You were serious, and now, he was concerned.

“What?” he asked.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment. Then you went over to a nearby drawer and got some rubber gloves you always kept at work and at home—the kind doctors wore.

You went for your large work bag that normally stored your laptop and files, and instead, you pulled out an old book. Dean’s brows raised of their own accord, considering the last time you accidentally trifled with a book like that.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, with some trepidation. You laid the book out on the kitchen counter.

“It’s a journal of some kind, written in Latin, dating back from the late 1500s. Can you believe that?” Your head raised from where you were examining the cover and spine, but Dean was incredulous.

“What’re you doing with that?” he asked. Your lips pursed, and he felt a tendril of your guilt.

Most likely, you’d taken it from the museum where you worked without permission. You were in charge of the growing library of ancient texts that were stored there, and most of them were too old and valuable for exhibition, even behind glass. He doubted you were even allowed to open this book, let alone “borrow” it from the museum.

You sighed and held up a placating hand. “Okay, Dean, just hear me out.”

You opened the book to a page you’d placed a strip of paper in for bookmarking purposes. You pointed at a page filled with scrawled words that Dean didn’t really understand. Sam was always better at reading Latin.

“That is a fertility spell,” you said.

The weight of that fell between you for a moment, rendering Dean speechless. It took a few seconds for his brain to register what you were saying, followed quickly by a sad, contemplative frown as he stared back at you. You were serious about this, even hopeful.

“Sweetheart, we don’t need that,” he said, shaking his head. Your expression firmed, though it became touched with melancholy.

“It’s been a year, Dean,” you said. “We’ve been trying for a year, and I’m still not pregnant.”

He blew out a breath. “The doctor said—”

“We’ve done everything the doctor said,” you snapped. “Fertility treatments are either going to take too long or are too expensive, and they still carry risks.”

“And this isn’t a risk?” Dean shot back, gesturing at the book. “You don’t know if this will work, or what the hell it’ll really do to you.”

Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t back down. You held your hands to your hips.

“Uncle Bobby said it’s legit,” you said. Dean blinked in surprise. He shifted back on his heels and crossed his arms.

“You ran this by Bobby before me?” he said. You could feel the small lance of his upset, as well as see it across his face.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I just wanted to make sure!”

Dean took in a deep breath. He mentally counted to five.

“What exactly did he say?” he asked.

You paused at that. “…Well, he said it was a real spell.”

His brows rose. “And?”

“And…that magic is unpredictable and we should talk about it first. But that’s why we’re talking now!” you reasoned.

Your husband’s gaze lifted heavenward as he threw up his hands in aggravation.

“Dean—” you tried, but it didn’t stop him from snatching up the book. Despite your protests, he took it with him into the master bedroom you shared and shoved the book into his nightstand. You had followed him this far, but you stopped short when he turned around to face you.

“I will check this out,” he said, and his tone boded no argument. “But for the record, I’m against this. Magic is unpredictable at best, and not for nothing, it always comes at a price. I’ll be damned if you’re gonna pay it again.”

You paused. Hearing the vehemence in his tone, feeling the force of emotion behind his words, and your own circling memories of being possessed by a magic-wielding goddess…it had you nodding in agreement, even as tears welled up in your eyes.

Dean faltered a little inside. Always the damn tears. He gathered you into his arms and held you close in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise,” he said.

You tried to believe him.

Late that night, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

Once you were sure Dean was asleep beside you, hearing his deep, even breaths, you made your move. Dressed in just an old college shirt and some pajama shorts, you slid out of bed and tiptoed over to his nightstand to get the book.

You took it into the kitchen and started assembling the ingredients Bobby had reluctantly helped you translate. (He didn’t know that you had taken a couple of items from his house for the spell.)

You prepared them in a bowl. The resulting liquid looked brown and disgusting. You mixed it around, grimacing at the smell, and carefully poured it into a glass. The last thing the spell required was a few drops of your blood, and then you were supposed to drink it.

God, this is terrible, you thought. Part of you couldn’t believe you were going through with this, but…you grabbed a kitchen knife in order to make a shallow cut on your palm.

The steel was poised against your hand. You took a fortifying breath, but before you could cut into your skin, Dean grabbed your wrist with a strong grip, startling a gasp out of you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he said, or more like shouted. He was irate, his voice bounding off the walls of the apartment.

You knew he had every right to be, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. Shock had stifled you into silence.

Dean let go of you and took the glass next. He peered in disgust at the concoction inside, but he quickly dumped it into the sink and ignored your protests. He threatened to burn the damn book next.

“Dean, stop! Please,” you said tearfully as you stilled his hands on the book. “If there’s some kind of price to the spell, I’ll pay it!”

“What’re you talking about! Are you crazy?” he asked, through furrowed brows. You squeezed his hands.

“Believe me, I love what we have. I love our life, my job, all of it,” you said. “But I want a family, and I want it with you.”

Dean started to soften at that, when you met his eyes. You paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It should be simple, but it’s not," you said. "I just can’t understand why it’s so impossible. Why…why there’s something wrong with me.”

Dean’s anger broke down, bit by bit the more you spoke. He let go of the book and reached for you. He held you against his chest, rubbing your back as you quietly wept. You tried to stifle it, but that just made your body tremble even more. He did his best to steady you, rocking you back and forth. His eyes closed for a moment.

You both knew that the expensive fertility doctor hadn’t found anything wrong with either of you, even after a month of testing.

“In certain cases, it just takes longer for some couples,” she’d said. But clearly, you had just been blaming yourself. Dean couldn’t abide that.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “Believe me, I want that too. But I also want to make sure you’re safe.”

Emotion clogged in his throat when he thought about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped you. And in turn, you sobered even more when you managed to pick up on his thoughts.

“If something would’ve happened, and I was too late to stop it,” he said, clearing his throat. “…I just can’t, okay?”

After a moment, you nodded. You allowed yourself to rest against his chest and try to calm the racing of your heart. All the while, you tried your best not to resent him for stopping you.

The next day was a Saturday. You slept in because your body needed it, after the stress of last night. When you woke up, Dean wasn’t beside you. His keys and the Impala were gone, but he’d left you a text: he’d gone to your uncle Bobby’s place.

And you saw that he’d taken the book as well. Predictable.

You felt bad for how you tried to go behind your husband’s back, but if you were honest with yourself, you were still upset at him for stopping you, even if you understood why he did it.

You sat on the edge of your bed. Not for the first time since you and Dean were separated by miles of roads and his family’s mission to find the thing that killed his mother, you found yourself praying.

Please, God…or if there’s even anyone up there…please help me.

For a while, there was silence in the room.

But even if your eyes were open, you wouldn’t have seen the being that was standing in front of you. He stared down at you with a tilted head, finding himself a bit too curious. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out and touched your forehead.

You didn’t completely register the feeling that washed over you. It was like the tingling of a breeze across your skin. You took it for a chill in the room as you shivered a little. Then you opened your eyes, and resigned yourself to starting your day.

Castiel left the room with but a thought and a flutter of wings.

He knew he was only supposed to observe Michael’s vessel, not his soulmate. And yet, with one touch, he had sensed the rare genetic defect your doctor had missed.

Your mother had unknowingly suffered the condition as well. Your father never told you this, but she’d nearly lost you in the early stages of her pregnancy. It had been a miracle that you were born at all.

Castiel fixed the problem.

He knew what Uriel, or even Naomi would say. Perhaps they didn’t need to know, in this case. They were both far too busy for worldly trifles. Even so, Castiel knew he wasn’t authorized to heal you.

Still, it felt…right. And so, he did it.

It confused him.

…Maybe it isn’t something to be closely examined, he thought.

With that agreement within himself, he resolved to leave that decision behind him, and continue watching from afar. Those were his orders, after all.

Visiting Bobby Singer wasn’t as productive as Dean wanted it to be. The men had been arguing in Bobby’s living room for close to an hour.

Dean was upset with him for translating that goddamn spell for you, but the old man didn’t have a good answer. They both knew you were like a daughter to him.

“She came in hot, all damn stubborn and sass up to here,” Bobby said, holding a hand up to his forehead. “But you try sayin’ no when the waterworks starts.”

…Dean could concede that, but he rubbed his face in frustration.

“What do I do here, Bobby?” he asked, holding up the spell book in question. Apparently, it was more like a journal; it was rumored to have belonged to a sixteenth-century witch named Rowena. “I don’t trust this thing. Deep in my gut, I know it.”

Bobby considered him for a moment. In fact, he gave Dean a long-suffering look that made him really see Bobby’s age.

“Then trust your gut, son,” was all he said.

Dean returned home with a peace offering: some apple crumble pie. You were lying on the sofa watching mindless TV, still in your pajamas. Your mental walls were down, so Dean could both see and feel how miserable you were.

He took out the pie from the small bag of groceries he carried and held it up so you could see.

“I come bearing sugar,” he said. He also set down a bottle of wine on the dining table. You were focused on the pie, however.

“Who’s that for, me or you?” you dryly remarked.

“I got ice cream too,” he said, shaking the grocery bag.

You smiled a little, but he could feel through the bond that you were still sour at him. He sighed and went over to you. He set down the bribery on the coffee table and settled a hand on your pajama-clad thigh.

“Sweetheart, I am sorry.”

Sighing, you turned off the TV and sat up against the other end of the couch. You eyed him with a frown.

“You’re not sorry about chucking the spell,” you accused. Or for stealing the book you’d eventually have to bring back to work, lest your boss notice something amiss in the inventory.

“No, I’m not,” said Dean. “It was dangerous. I felt it. And that gut feeling? That’s what’s saved me more times than I can damn count.”

You were still upset, you couldn’t deny…but you understood his point. When he beckoned you over, you were more willing to go to him. After you scooted closer, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Look, I’ll go to whatever doctors you want, try whatever treatments, however long it takes,” he said.

You sighed, but you eventually agreed with a teary nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Even with that, Dean wasn’t convinced that he was getting through to you. He was picking up on a thread of hopelessness that you were trying to hide.

He’d just have to change that.

“But…” He earned your attention by squeezing your side. His lips formed a grin. “I still think we can do this the old-fashioned way.”

He slowly rubbed a hand up and down your back. With the other hand, he reached for your face, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. You smiled slightly at his teasing. Part of you wanted to heed the suggestion in his eyes, and the familiar warmth and promise in his touch. The other, more vulnerable part of you hesitated.

When you caught sight of something over his shoulder, you had to smile a little more.

“I see you got a bottle of Merlot,” you said. A notable upgrade from beer. You couldn’t remember the last time Dean had willingly bought some “bougie-ass” wine.

“A little pie, a little booze…” you noted.

Dean grinned. “I’m thinking we have a not-so-quiet night in.”

Your brows rose, and you hummed in surprise. “Is my husband trying to butter me up?”

“Nah,” he said, tilting your face back up to his. “Your husband’s trying to seduce you.”

You giggled at that…at first. But it seemed he was serious.

You accepted his passionate kiss. Closing your eyes, you reached blindly for his shirt and held on while his lips moved ardently against yours. Through the bond, you felt his desire like it was your own.

In the five years you’d been married, and the years you were together even before, there were often moments where it was impossible to discern what was him and what was you.

The beautiful thing about it was, that part didn’t matter too much. Especially not when you and Dean became a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue on the couch. He ridded you of your threadbare pajamas, and you helped him halfway out of his shirt and jeans before he yanked the rest of it off himself.

And all while he drew lusty moans and sighs and pleasure from your body in the comfort of your living room, the ice cream slowly melted in its container on the coffee table—completely forgotten, along with the pie.

That night, you lied awake in his arms for a while. Round one on the couch had migrated to rounds two and three in the bedroom, and you were almost too exhausted to sleep.

It had been months since you and Dean had sex without thinking of calendars and timing, optimal positions and ovulation.

This felt right, you thought, as you stroked his arm that was wrapped around your waist. Even though your skin was sticking to his under the sheets and your frizzy hair was probably tickling his neck, he didn’t seem to mind.

Dean? you tried through the bond, seeing if he was awake. He felt like he was still in-between wakefulness and sleep. At your prodding though, he slipped back into the former.

“Hmm?” he replied. You let out a sigh in the dark.

“I’m sorry I kind of tried to take matters into my own hands, with the spell.”

He hmphed in response. “Kinda?”

Your lips twitched upwards.

“This is a ‘together’ thing,” you said. “I made it all about me.”

Dean shook his head at that. He responded through the bond. No, you didn’t.

I did, you insisted. You were right to stop me. I didn’t care about the consequences…but that’s not fair to you. To either of us.

He took that in with a deep sigh of his own.

“It’s okay. We want the same thing,” he said. “And we’ll get there, baby. Don’t you worry.”

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“…I don’t know. I just am.”

You closed your eyes, and once again, you tried to believe him. You let his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep.

Nine weeks later…

You were alone in the bathroom at seven in the morning. After almost a month late on your period, you were also staring at two positive lines on your last pregnancy test.

Ho…ly…shit.

Dean was already at work. This wasn’t something you wanted to tell him over the phone, however.

How the hell am I supposed to keep this from him all day? you thought.

But then again, maybe this was a good thing. You had time to make sure.

So you called out of work for a personal day, and you immediately called your doctor on your way out to the closest pharmacy. You were going to need a few more tests.

When Dean eventually got home that evening, there were two pizzas waiting for him. The smell was already making his mouth water. He peeked under the hood of each box and rubbed his hands together.

“Ooh, awesome.” Pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese. His favorite.

You appeared then from the kitchen with a strange smile on your face.

“Hey!” you chirped, but you seemed a bit distracted as you pulled out a sheet pan of cookies from the oven. You nearly dropped them when the corner of the pan banged against the oven.

Something was off with you. Dean knew it intuitively. He went over and tried to steady you with a hand on the small of your back. He could see that you were frazzled, but he realized, with a frown, that you had your walls up again. He couldn’t pick up on what you were thinking.

“You okay?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Uh…well, something,” you nodded and wiped your hands after you peeled the oven mitts off. “And I need to tell you about it before I bake everything in the house, including the expired bran muffins.”

Dean was growing more concerned by the moment. He knew for a fact he’d hidden that bran muffin mix deep in the pantry, so you wouldn’t force him to eat a “healthy dessert.”

“Okay, what?” he asked.

You paused, steeling yourself with a breath.

You then took his hand and led him to the bedroom, into the adjoining bathroom. Across the entire counter were no less than seven pregnancy tests.

All positive.

Dean’s breath caught in his lungs. Slowly he turned back to you with his widened eyes.

“Surprise?” you smiled, a little nervously.

Dean grasped the counter and had to sit down hard on the closed toilet seat.

“Yeah, I did that too,” you said. You couldn’t help but giggle as you caressed his face. He grabbed your hip, both to bring you closer and for added stability. You two had been trying to make this happen for over a year, but the gravity of this being real was finally hitting him.

He stared up at your face with a growing smile. “This is happening.”

You nodded, smiling through your burgeoning tears.

“Yeah. It is,” you replied. “Dean, you’re gonna be a dad.”

That realization had him nodding, swallowing hard and blinking past a sting in his eyes.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his knees. You threaded your fingers through his hair, and his head came to rest against your stomach. He pressed a kiss there, over your shirt.

After a moment to gather himself, he rocked back onto his feet. Then he enveloped you in a secure and warm embrace. He kissed the side of your head, and you felt his smile there.

“We did it, baby,” he said.

“And that was the easy part,” you quipped, making him laugh. Yet the holy shit of it all hit him in a new wave—one you felt through the bond. You had to take a deep breath to steady yourself as well.

“Oh my God, this is happening,” he repeated.

You uttered a tearful laugh. “Uh, yeah, Dean.”

He was still smiling, but it started to dim a little.

“We’re ready, right?” he asked.

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. “We better be.”

Dean nodded and pulled back enough to see your face. You met his gaze. Maybe you’d just had more time than him to process it all, but you finally felt a sense of peace.

“Together, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Together.”

Dean let out a deep breath. “Shit, I gotta tell Sam.”

Your smile brightened and you squeezed his arms.

“Let’s call him!" you said. "Hopefully Eileen’s there too.”

The two had moved in together a couple of years ago, after Eileen officially retired from hunting. But she often had long shifts at her job, just like Sam did at the law firm he started working for after he graduated from law school, near the top of his class.

While you and Dean went into the bedroom to call Sam together, an angel watched from a distance, unseen by human eyes.

He found himself smiling.

AN: Ahh I'm soft. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy this as much as I had fun diving back into Never Say Goodbye.

And I won't say that I'll never come back to it in the future...for obvious reasons. 😉

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Series + Dean Tag List (Part 1):

I did my best to get everyone who was tagged in the original run of the series first, then my normal Dean tag list.

@curlycarley @chubby-teddybear @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @deans-spinster-witch @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1

@icequeen1371 @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @shadowcrowsworld @thespnlover @this-is-me19 @stevenknightmarc @leigh70 @syrma-sensei @brain-has-left

@hobby27 @ashbatz @saranghaey @jori21 @lillyrob @adoringanakin @agirlwithdemonblood @mimaria420 @nephil-with-a-gun @writethrough @iamsapphine @definitelymentallyderanged @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer

#the old-fashioned way #bonus tracks #never say goodbye #bonus track 4 #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x soulmate!reader #soulmate au #soulmates #castiel #jody mills #bobby singer #zepskies writes

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straylightdream · 5 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

feedback and reblog with tags are greatly appreciate when you read one of my fics!

if you want to join my taglist for every or specific boys, please fill out this form.

contains smut: ♡

ｃｏｎｎｅｃｔｉｎｇｓｅｒｉｅｓ

all for you - ✰

seasons of time - college au ✎

ｗｒｉｔｉｎｇｓｅｒｉｅｓ

look what you made me do - series if reputation inspired songs

1989 - a series inspired by taylor swift songs of the same name

love & money - ceo and or sugar daddy stories - $

my only one - stories about the boys as husbands and fathers - ❀

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥 (𝐬.𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐬)

• dancing with our hands tied - I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us. ♡ $ (rep)

• late night calls - it’s four in the morning and there is only one person he wants to talk to. ♡ ✰

• midnight drives - you shouldn’t of fallen for your sister’s ex boyfriend but you can’t help it. ♡

• 2 years of trying - you always thought conceiving a baby would be easy. It turns out both you and your husband were wrong. ♡ ❀

• complete mess - life is hard, and he can’t take the weight of the world that feels like it’s on his shoulders. when he asked you to run away with him you can’t imagine saying no. ♡

• all a lie (coming soon) - he never planned on being a sugar daddy. he pays her to tutor him but when he finds out she’s struggling to get by. things get complicated when sex is involved. ✎ ♡

𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐧

• understand - Watching your “best friend” marry your ex is heart breaking. At least Jeonghan is by your side. He’s the only one who could make you feel less heartbroken. ♡

• unconditional - life has been hard, and you know you’re not easy to love right now. No matter how hard things get he’a always by your side.

• apt. 847b (camgirl reader) - fucking your new roommate probably isn’t your brightest idea. But when you’re so down bad you can’t help it. ♡ ✰

𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠

• love is (not) easy - Sometimes you fight with the person you’re truly supposed to be with. Sometimes it’s not easy loving someone. ♡

• delicate (camgirl reader) - Long night, with your hands up in my hair. Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs. Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share. ♡ ✰ (rep)

• i didn’t plan it - sometimes you don’t fully plan on things happening. something little slip ups are supposed to happen. ♡ ❀

you are in love (coming soon) - being friends with benefits with your childhood best friends makes things extra complicated. ✎ ♡ (1989)

𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐢

• so it goes… (camgirl reader) -Getting caught up in a moment. Lipstick on your face, so it goes. I’m yours to keep and I’m yours to lose. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 (𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢)

• …ready for it? - In the middle of the night, in my dreams. You should see the things we do, baby. In the middle of the night in my dreams. ♡ ✰ (rep)

• be my mistake - sometimes you should just delete your exes contact info so you don’t wind up naked in his bed again. ♡

𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨

• three simple words - You were his first serious girlfriend and his first for many things, and he was the first boy you had ever actually loved. For some reason saying those three simple words terrified you. ♡

• king of my heart - I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I'm better off being alone. We met a few weeks ago. Now you try on callin' me "baby" like tryin' on clothes. ♡ ✰ (rep)

• meet me in the hallway (feat: wonwoo x reader x ‘mingyu) - They been best friends their whole life. They’ve shared everything but they have never shared a girl. What happens when no one can keep their emotions out of this? ♡

• body and soul - after a rough day the only thing he wants to do is go on a motorcycle ride with you. (can be read as a connecting story to king of my heart) ♡ ✰

• never leave this bed - once your husband returns from a long trip you want nothing more then to stay in bed together. ♡ ❀

• across the room - I caught your eye across the room. No one can feel the tension between me and you. There’s no need to mention all the things I wanna do. You wanna do ‘em too. We both know we’d be over if they knew. ♡

• limbo (coming soon) - you’re friends with his ex, and he can’t seem to get your cherry colored lips out of him mind. ♡ ✎

• heaven knows (wonwoo x reader x mingyu) - who knew being roommates could turn into so much more. (coming soon) ♡

𝐣𝐢𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 (𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢)

• dress - Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐢𝐧 (𝐝𝐤)

• sleepover buddies (coming soon) - This isn’t the first time you have cuddled while you slept. But this is the first time you’ve woken up to his morning wood digging into your butt. ♡

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐮

• I’m not sharing - “I swear to god Kim Mingyu I’m going to ban you from sharing a bed with me ever again, if you don’t stop stealing my blanket,” you whined as you pulled harshly on the blanket that was wrapped around him. ♡

• call it what you want (coming soon) - I want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck chain 'round my neck. Not because he owns me. But 'cause he really knows me ♡ ✰ (rep)

• heaven knows (wonwoo x reader x mingyu) - who knew being roommates could turn into so much more. (coming soon) ♡

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞𝟖)

• don’t blame me (stripper reader) - I would cross the line. I would waste my time. I would lose my mind. They say, "She's gone too far this time." ♡ $ (rep)

• I don’t understand but I love (coming soon) - being roommates with your ex isn’t as easy as you thought it would be. Things get messy when sex comes into play, but you can’t keep your heart out of this. ♡ ✰

𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐧

• kiss it all better - overworked and exhausted. You can’t wait to spend time with your husband who is a stay at home father. ❀ ♡

• new year’s day (coming soon) - You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi. I can tell that it's gonna be a long road. I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐧

• getaway car - The ties were black, the lies were white. In shades of gray in candlelight. I wanted to leave him. I needed a reason. ♡ ✰ (rep)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 (𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨)

• this is why we can’t have nice things (coming soon) - here's to you. 'Cause forgiveness is a nice thing to do. I can't even say it with a straight face. ♡ ✰ (rep)

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen imagine #seventeen fanfic #svt ml #seventeen masterlist

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gutsby · 1 year ago

Text

Mr. Dixon

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

Warnings: NSFW. Dad's friend Daryl! Drastic age gap!! Daryl's a dirty old pervert in this one :-) Voyeurism. Masturbation. Descriptions of oral sex (m!receiving). Dirty talk. Degradation. Slight misogyny. Daryl may or may not masturbate out a window at some point.

You had an old pair of Daisy Dukes and a dream.

Faded, frayed, and two times too small for your frame, the shorts hiked an inch up your ass every step you took across the room. Made it damn near pointless bending over before the man in front of you—he could see every inch of your butt regardless—but you did it all the same.

This was Mr. Dixon, after all.

Cool blue orbs illumined by candlelight took the sight of you in and flitted away just as fast. His hands busied themselves with the gun he was taking apart, while you reached for the bullet that had just rolled onto the floor.

“Here you go, Mr. Dixon.”

Your voice had a charming lilt as you held the round out to him.

“Over there,” Daryl grumbled, jerking his head toward the end of the table, “An’ what’d I say ‘bout callin’ me tha’?”

“I feel weird calling daddy’s friends by their first names.”

You shrugged and chucked the tiny piece of lead into the pile of ammunition like Daryl had told you to. Then you sat down beside it, crossing your arms.

He could be so cruel sometimes. Just fooling with his pistol and barking orders like a drill sergeant. Never looking at you longer than a second, and if he did, just shooting you a glare or wounding you with a scowl.

He’d been the toughest nut to crack out of all your father’s friends. No matter how straight-laced and upstanding the men around Mr. Grimes had made themselves out to be, you’d always found the fault line—the weak spot that got you access to the filthiest parts of each one. You’d teased and you’d flirted, earned a couple groping touches and open-mouthed caresses from the likes of the late Mr. Walsh and many others. But never Mr. Dixon.

Even now, sitting across from him in your skimpy Wrangler cut offs, wedges, and a skintight, starch white tank top stretched so tight over your tits the fabric was practically see-through, it was like you were invisible to him. You kicked your feet out in front of you as they dangled from the table and actually felt yourself pout at the feeling of frustration bubbling in your chest.

“I wanna help.” Sounding pitiful.

“No use,” Daryl said as he studied the barrel of the gun with an inscrutable expression, “Already told yer dad, ain’ no use for little girls on the range.”

Your nostrils flared as you started back on your feet.

“I am plenty useful, Mr. Dixon. And I— I’m not the little girl you think I am,” you fired back, sounding more miserable and juvenile with every word you spoke.

At the last, Daryl looked you up and down. It was hardly more than a passing glance, but deliberate enough to be expressive. Emotive.

He looked repulsed by you.

And, rather than dignify you with a response, he simply discarded his firearm on the table and left the room. You trailed behind him into the kitchen and watched him swing the refrigerator door wide on its hinges. Blue eyes surveying the shelves for a can of PBR, most likely.

“I can do anything you need me to,” you rejoined in a huff, desperate to be heard, “I’m twice the shot my old man ever was at my age, I can track if I need to— hell, I’m always doin’ stuff, Mr. Dixon. Things.”

You weren’t sure what rattling off your talents to a man who clearly had no interest in hearing them would accomplish, but you tried it anyway. You sounded like your father. When both of Mr. Dixon’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise and he plopped down on a bar stool opposite you, you wanted to melt right into the floor.

“Doin’ stuff, huh? Thangs?” he mocked your twang.

You gripped the door frame so tight your knuckles turned white. Daryl took a couple swigs of beer and stared you down through every swallow. He brought the can back to the counter, near-empty now, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I got a couple thangs for ya ta do,” he started, grinning, “Why don’t ya put those pretty hands ta work, throw a little apron on, and just...bake me a fuckin’ cake?”

“Funny,” you spat. You felt a surge of bile rise in your throat at the sight of his smug expression.

“Wash my car?”

“Fuck you.”

Daryl’s amusement only grew as the forbidden F-bomb flew from your lips—a word he knew Rick would never tolerate if you’d been in his presence. Presently, his eyes raked over your slight, shaking form at the threshold of the room and figured himself pretty lucky to have provoked such a strong reaction from you. He polished off the last of his drink in a single gulp.

“No need ta get all foul-mouthed, Ms. Grimes, I only—”

“Fuck. You.” Your reply came slower and a touch more measured than he’d expected. Even punctuated with a hint of a smile, making sure to stretch that Southern drawl when you added, “Dar-yl.”

It was the first time you’d ever used his first name.

You weren’t sure you liked it.

Daryl, on the other hand, felt quite certain the sound of his name suited your mouth just fine. A subsequent stir in his jeans wiped the smirk clean off his face, and he began to shift in his seat.

Before he could speak, you were already turning on your heels to leave. Formalities escaped quicker than your anger, and your fingers seemed to move of their own accord to flip Daryl off over your shoulder as you strode out the door, far out of his sight.

Meanwhile, and much to his chagrin, Mr. Dixon was already growing ill with the sounds of your parting wishes bouncing loud off the walls of his skull. Before the front door had even closed, his fingers, too, seemed to move involuntarily and do a thing they probably shouldn’t have done: touch the mound in his jeans.

He rubbed his clothed erection and groaned.

You were such a fucking brat.

Daryl had always thought with a father as eagle-eyed and attentive as Rick, you’d never reach this level of naughty, haughty, and straight up cunt-like, but here you were. Doing Lori proud the way you’d gotten another one of Rick’s best friends wrapped around your little finger.

You were good like that, and still too dense to understand a fraction of the effect you had on him while you did it. The way you’d been looking at him earlier, Daryl was sure you’d convinced yourself he hated you.

If you could only see him now, spitting in one hand and unzipping his fly with the other, freeing his cock, and finally, finally getting his fingers wrapped fast around his shaft with the sole thought of you on his mind as he did. If you could watch him shudder, close his eyes, draw a deep, jagged breath through his nose to scour the air for the faintest trace of your scent lingering there—maybe you’d get it.

Daryl slid his hand down his cock and exhaled a shaky breath. You would simply never “get it,” because he’d already promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen.

As his thumb grazed the head of his red-hot, leaking cock and imagined it was your tongue doing all the work, he had to remind himself this was nothing but a fantasy for him. There was just no way in hell he’d sink to Shane’s level and actually lay his hands on you, no—he was better than that.

He was a man of principle, furiously jerking his cock in his kitchen with the thought of his best friend’s daughter on his mind. He just couldn’t touch you.

Damn if those tits didn’t sit nice under that top, no bra to hold ‘em in. And those shorts…

Daryl felt his head drop back as a wave of pleasure coursed up his spine. In his mind, you were sucking him now, hollowing those soft, sweet cheeks around his member and bobbing your head up and down, again and again, eyes never leaving his. Maybe you’d know to cup his balls, use your tongue to draw a couple lazy shapes down his cock. Any way you wanted it done was exactly how Mr. Dixon needed it, he’d decided.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and fucked his hand like a man half his age.

Someone like you.

Scarcely nineteen and so oversexed they might burst.

The difference was Daryl would explode any second now; he had only to hunch over, pump himself a few more times, and finally shoot his load, pretending it was spraying your insides and not the floor of his kitchen.

He’d intended to do just that, clenching his jaw at the filthiest thoughts of you yet, when suddenly, a sound shook the house.

Daryl dropped his cock and looked right out the window.

Down below, outside, you’d laid heavy on your car horn. Let the noise blare a couple seconds before Daryl came bounding over to the window.

When he did, the man thought his legs might buckle.

You were standing beside his truck in the driveway, sponge in hand, soaked head-to-toe in water and soap and smiling brighter than he’d ever seen you. The fabric above your tits was translucent now, clinging like a second skin and affording his lustful gaze every inch of your torso. Your free hand was waving up at him.

Daryl inched the window open with trembling hands.

“Mr. Dixon, this truck is filthy!” you shouted from down below.

Swallowing and blinking was all he knew how to do, it seemed. Finally, Daryl managed, deadpan:

“I know.”

You placed your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes up at him.

“Have you always been such a dirty old man?”

Fuck. It was like you knew what he’d been doing, crouched over in the privacy of his home while he drooled and dreamed of fucking you stupid. He watched you cross the front of the car.

And lean down to start rubbing your sponge across the hood.

Daryl sincerely feared you might hear his loud groan the second it rose to his throat. He gritted his teeth, tried to fight the sound, but came up short with nothing to show for his efforts but a whimper slipping past his lips.

You started swirling your sponge in circles, tits shaking with every movement you made.

“Too bad little girls ain’t good for nothin’,” you sighed.

When you leaned flat across the metal surface below you, Daryl pictured himself standing behind you, taking his dick and shoving it deep between your folds. Stretching you out and making you scream into the space in front of you.

Slowly, discreetly, Daryl’s hand drifted back to his cock.

“Yeah. Too bad,” he mumbled as you bent over to soak your sponge once more. When you straightened up, you made sure to squeeze the thing over your chest so the water would douse your front. Daryl took the window frame in one hand and his cock in the other, leaning out just slightly to ask, “This the ‘stuff’ ye’s talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Thangs, really,” you answered dryly.

The two of you exchanged a brief smile, and Daryl’s hand started stroking his length.

Lucky for him, and unlucky for you, the size of the window wasn’t primed to make you privy to the sight of him pleasuring himself. At most, you saw a forearm moving gently back and forth. You bit your lower lip and kept your sponge moving in loops.

“Well these ‘thangs’ are gonna get ya in a whole heap of trouble with yer daddy if ya keep this up, girl,” Daryl warned, nodding toward your house with a wary look.

“It’s empty, Mr. Dixon. Whole place is mine for the weekend,” you replied with a sly intonation.

Finally, you stopped long enough to get a hand back down to your shorts. Facing Daryl still, you popped a button on your denim cut-offs and looked up at him with a glossy, innocent stare. You pretended to feel for something that wasn’t there, snagged the band of your light pink thong, and lifted it up to Daryl’s hungry gaze. You saw his bicep visibly strain as he jerked his cock even faster.

Back inside, Daryl was panting, groaning, reeling at the thought of you all alone in your house next door, splayed out across your bed in a baby pink panty set. He soaked in the sight of you and curled his toes into the floor as a new jolt of pleasure broke out through his body.

He was closer than he’d ever been. He rested his head against the window and watched you run your hands over your body, down your front, in your shorts. He imagined your fingers grazing your cunt and how wet you must’ve been then, imagining him right back and fucking him steady with your eyes.

For a moment, your eyelids fluttered, and a blissful look crossed your features. Daryl rutted his hips at the thought of you finding your clit in front of him—desperately wanting to be the source of that pleasure himself—and pumped himself even faster.

“Darlin’, I…I need ya. In such a bad fuckin’ way.” He couldn’t keep the tender term of endearment from dancing on his tongue. The sight of you alone had his brain on the fritz.

You slipped your hand out of your shorts and brought a couple honeyed fingertips to the edge of your lips.

“How bad, Mr. Dixon?” you asked, eyeing him intently.

Daryl whined and felt his insides churn with the threat of release. He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer.

“So— so bad. Need to fuck ya so bad.”

That satisfied your affirmation-hungry itch well enough. You pushed two digits between your lips and started to suck.

From that point on, you didn’t need to see him or hear him or be there waiting patiently on your knees to get a mouthful of his cum—you knew it was coming. Daryl’s face contorted with a blissful, fucked-out expression, and suddenly he was pumping that space below the window full of his load, likely spraying the whole damn thing on the wall.

You stood back and admired your work. Daryl had all but collapsed with both hands planted on the windowsill, wet, brown locks hanging low in his face as the aftershocks of his arousal washed over him.

He was panting and barely able to meet your gaze. You couldn’t quite read the expression.

At any rate, you knew your job here was done.

With a hand waving sweetly back up at him once more, you eyed the mess of a man—your father’s best friend—and started to reach for your bucket and sponge. You buttoned your shorts back up and took a step from his truck. When it seemed Daryl was just then starting to open his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and called out, cheerfully,

“See ya around, Mr. Dixon!”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut

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pomefioredove · 1 day ago

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hi bub! your christmas event is so cute! i'd like to order #10, a sugar cookie with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle <3

this prompt turned out to be pretty similar to another, so I decided to make it a two-parter! second part will be out tomorrow

part II

order #10, sugar with whipped cream, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ opening old wounds I

summary: ruggie's first love is leona's new fiance(e) tropes: royalty au, exes to lovers characters: ruggie additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu, really leaning into the royal au here

It was never going to last.

Ruggie had told himself that before it was even over.

It wasn't going to last, and he knew it. He knew it well.

You were too good for him. And you didn't know it then, but you would. Royals don't marry penniless servants- they just don't.

They marry dukes and duchesses, counts, nobles, princesses and-

"Prince Leona," Ruggie sticks his hands in the pockets of the worn, thin, moth-bitten thing he calls a uniform.

The prince looks down at him, something in his eye akin to fondness, and then: "I told you to quit 'callin me that. Leona is fine,"

"Shishishi. I'll get in trouble with the head of staff if she hears me 'disrespectin you like that, your highness,"

Leona rolls his eyes, though he knows Ruggie is right, and he starts walking. Ruggie trails behind him, like a stray puppy looking for scraps.

"I'll tell Neji to lay off you. Is that what you want?"

Ruggie smiles. "Shishi. Maybe. You're in an awful generous mood today, Prince,"

Leona raises an eyebrow as they walk under the portrait of his father, regal and imperturbable and everything Leona wasn't. Everything that he was supposed to be.

"Don't get used to it. I've still gotta deal with the current royal pain everyone's convinced is gonna set me straight..."

Ruggie snorts. "Don't worry. You'll drive 'em away, like the last dozen suitors,"

Leona stops at an imposing pair of doors, to one of the palace's many lounges, his smiley servant right behind him. "Ready?"

The prince rolls his eyes and pushes them open, no interest in a quiet introduction. The finely-dressed, politely seated party at the other end of the lounge, look to the doors as they slam against the walls. Neji sighs. Leona's sister-in-law mumbles something into her cup of tea.

"Well? I'm here," he says, hands on his hips.

Falena stands, greeting his younger brother with a pointed glare. "Here you are, indeed. Half an hour late,"

"I was speaking with the ambassadors," Leona shrugs him off, walking into the room. Ruggie gets a few looks as he follows, but, thankfully, no one says anything. He'll sneak a few tasty hors d'oeuvres, eavesdrop on the drama, and be out of here in-

You.

What are you doing here???

Though you wouldn't have known, the serving staff at the palace had just as many rules as the royals, and Ruggie was currently in violation of the two most important ones: he stops moving, and he stares.

At you.

Not that he can help it!

It takes a pointed glare from Leona (thank Sevens for him, honestly) for Ruggie to remember where, and who he is, and he finally moves, standing in the corner behind the royal ensemble, sweating like a sinner in church.

"Now, we can skip the formalities, and discuss the engagement," Neji says, clearing his throat and unfurling a comically long scroll. "Once the prince's engagement to Their Grace is announced to the peoples, a dowry will be expected. The dowry is traditional, more symbolic for our image than..."

Neji's lecture fades into silence as Ruggie stares at you. You're dressed in some frilly thing he can't imagine you like, sitting stiffly in your seat, trying very, very hard not to stare back.

He knows that you can see him, invisible as he is as a servant.

"...And that's not even accounting for the press. It will be quite the affair, we want to look cordial," Neji says, giving Leona a look.

The prince scoffs. "Come on. I'll play nice for the press until this is over,"

"Until the wedding," Falena corrects him.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Are we done here? I was actually speaking with the ambassadors before I was dragged over for tea time,"

The King Regent sighs, but dismisses Leona and Ruggie with a wave of his hand. He doesn't need to be told twice; he leaves, his servant not far behind.

As soon as the doors are closed again, Leona turns to Ruggie with a frown. "What's the problem?"

"There's no problem,"

"I hope you don't plan on an acting career," he scoffs. "So, what's the problem? You know something."

"Know something?" Ruggie laughs, almost nervously. He's usually much more convincing than this, damn it.

Leona crosses his arms. He doesn't speak, nor budge until Ruggie starts talking again.

"I... ah... have a history with the future in-laws. B-but it was a long time ago! Way before I worked at the palace, let alone knew you, and-"

He holds up a hand. "Stop talking. You and... them. Had a thing?"

"...Yes,"

Leona pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, as if that was the longest fifteen seconds of his life.

Ruggie opens his mouth. Leona holds up a finger, and he shuts it again.

"...Quiet. I'm thinking. I can work with this... Don't tell anyone what you just told me, firstly,"

"Done,"

"Secondly..." he rubs his chin, looking at the floor, a bit to the left. "...You're annoying as all hell. But you're charming. If you can get on my good side you can... yeah, that'll work."

Ruggie watches Leona as he thinks aloud. "What'll work?"

The prince looks back at him, and in a completely serious, unbothered tone: "You'll seduce 'em,"

"HUH?"

"Don't act like you weren't thinking the same damn thing in there," Leona scoffs. "Seduce their royal ass, convince 'em to elope with you, convince my family you're in love or whatever. You get the fiance, I get less headaches. No one'll ever know."

Ruggie stares at the prince as if he had just grown a second tail. "You can't be serious. No way that'll work!"

"It will if you're not such a baby about it!"

"This has nothing to do with me! It's a crazy idea, no way they're going to-"

The creak of the heavy doors opening makes both Leona and Ruggie go stiff and silent. The royal family- yours, that is, not Leona's- comes out, close together and quiet.

When you look over your shoulder, a pout on your perfect lips, you look at Ruggie. Not Leona.

And then you're gone, your family and you, the sound of ruffles and frills dragging across the floor getting further and further from the imposing doors and the two boys beneath them.

Leona turns to Ruggie with a smirk. "Well, well,"

"Come on, that didn't mean anything,"

The prince begins walking, and Ruggie is forced to follow. "But it could. Now, let's get talking. We've got a lot of planning to do if we're going to make this work,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #ruggie bucchi x reader

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riki-riks-chick · 9 months ago

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like bodyguard jay 🫠🫠🫠 and he is never crossing line but keep callin you "ma'am" 🫠🫠 and fucks you rough but gentle at the same time🫠🫠🫠 i wanna die just thinking about it😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

The Bodyguard ┃P.JS

Bodyguard!jay x reader

You're the daughter of two famous celebrities, jay is your bodyguard

cw: drunk sex (yn slighty drunk), kissing, jealousy, unprotected sex, no prep, bratty yn, slightly rough jay, gentle jay, slight dirty talk.

wdct: 1.6k

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Third Person POV~

Living as the daughter of a famous actor and actress is not fun. Especially when it always lands you in the media.

You were known for being a bit of a wild child, and you never thought it would land you with a personal bodyguard, but here you are.

Your father got quite upset after waking up to find his daughter all over the internet, kissing some boy who was known for figure skating. After that, he decided to stick you with a bodyguard who was only a couple years older than you.

He was handsome, sure, but it was hell having him follow you everywhere. It's like you never have a second alone.

And he's so formal that it fucking hurts. Always calling you "miss" or "ma'am" like you're some 60 year old woman.

You've tried teasing him, wearing revealing clothes, and even acting extra touchy when you're out drinking with your friends, but it's no use. He refuses to break.

He has never crossed a line. He's never entered your bedroom, not even with permission, and he won't look lower than your eyes when you're wearing anything even slightly revealing. He won't even touch you if it's not for safety purposes.

And now he's ticked you off completely. You were at a party, specifically to fuck around with the son of your mother's co-star. You were warned by your mother to leave him alone, but you decided to be disobedient and hang out with him anyway.

Getting away from Jay was hard enough, but once he found you in the back of a black Rolls Royce with that boy? That dopey, messy-haired, fuckboy? Oh, he was livid. He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out and towards your own car which he'd been driving for you.

You got a rush from the way he grabbed you, tugging your skirt down and not even bothering with the fact that your shirt was partially unbuttoned.

"Jay.. Let go of me!" You yell, albeit slurred, snatching your arm from Jay's hold as he sighs. "Miss Y/n... It's not my fault your dad made me your bodyguard. Quite frankly, I never would've ended up here if you would've simply listened to your parents' orders."

This was the first time he'd ever responded in a non-professional way, and it shut you up immediately. "Listen, I know you don't like me. And I know you wish your dad would fire me, but I'm trying my hardest. I can't watch you do stupid shit like that though."

You simply drop your head, avoiding his eyes as he removes his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. "Let's just get you home.."

He helps you into the car, closing the door before getting in on the driver's side. He buckles your seatbelt before taking off.

When he gets back to your house, he thanks his lucky star that your parents aren't home to see you like this.

He makes it a mission to help you upstairs and then leave, but once he's in your room, you make it your goal to keep him from leaving.

"I should probably go, miss.." He avoids making contact with your cleavage as he pushes you away at the chest, giving himself room to breathe.

"Jay.. Aren't you supposed to do whatever I say?.." You ask as he nods, visibly straightening his posture. "Yes, ma'am.." He swallows hard, scared of his own thoughts in the moment as he takes in your sloppy appearance. His eyes trail the sway of your hips as you saunter over to him.

"Then fuck me..." You say, straightforward and outright. It catches Jay completely off guard. "What?! No!" He immediately rejects, earning a sideways glance from you.

"You interrupted me when I was about to get laid. So you're gonna fuck me instead.." You're clearly serious, but Jay is confused. He's always harboured something less than appropriate for you, but he'd never act on it out of fear of losing his job, and you with it.

"Miss Y/n.. I think it's just the alcohol talking.. Please." You push him against the wall, cutting him off as you press your palm straight against his crotch, palming his very obvious erection.

"Maybe it's your dick talking?..." You question cockily, bringing your left hand up to his nape to tug him closer. His lips ghosted hesitantly over yours. "If you want me... I'm yours for the taking. Stop being so formal."

He's completely sure that his next course of action is led by his dick, but he doesn't care. He cups your jaw gently, closing the small gap between you as he kisses you with a long-hidden passion.

It's feels as if he'd been waiting and yearning for this to happen. His lips press feverishly against yours as he leads you backwards and towards your bed, pulling away only momentarily to let you climb onto the bed.

Once he's back on top of you, hes unbuttoning your shirt, kissing down your torso in the process as he sucks on the available skin that your bra can't cover.

Once he reaches your waist band, he glances up at you, his eyes dark and filled with a burning desire. "Tell me, lovely miss... Did he touch you here..?" He asks, his finger trailing over your cunt through the barrier of your underwear.

"No.. You didn't give him the chance." You reply in a smart-mouthed tone, making him chuckle. "Good, because I would've killed him."

Then he's removing your skirt, tossing it aside carelessly as he tugs you closer by your hips. Your legs are on either side of him, and you have the perfect view as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly revealing his toned torso inch by inch.

As soon as his shirt is off, he's unbuckling his belt, undoing his pants just enough to free his erection. You take a second to marvel at his length, stroking it slowly as his lips part to let out a heavy sigh.

After letting you feel him up, he moves your hand, sliding your panties off as he tosses them across the bed. "Can I put it in..?" He asks, his tone filled with desperation. You nod, not wanting to wait much longer and risk your parents coming home.

The second he presses his tip against your hole, sliding in just slightly, you gasp, biting your lip to supress your moan as he bottoms out, stilling his hips to let you adjust.

"How do you feel?" He asks, rubbing your thigh softly as he watches your chest rise and fall with each breath. You take a second to respond, trying to filter out the slight pain you feel with how deep he is.

"Fuck it, just move." You let out a sigh, gripping his hand as he kisses the back of your hand before moving his hips slowly.

Each slow and deep drag pulls a moan from your throat. The way he's focusing so hard, on every movement, makes it feel so much better altogether.

"Are you okay, miss..?" He asks, using his free hand to cup your cheek as you nod. "I'm fine. And please stop it with all the miss and ma'am bullshit. Just call me Y/n."

At your bratty response, he thrusts particularly hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he quickens his pace. "Such harsh words coming from such a pretty mouth. Be nice..."

"Be nice, my ass.." You argue, tilting your head back as he moves his hips faster against yours, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motions. The feeling is absolute torture, but you'd be lying of you said it didn't make you feel incredible.

"I wanna see the pretty little face you make when you cum... I wanna hear how good I make you feel."

"Jay... Fuck.." You moan, gripping his wrist as he smiles. "Your moans are so pretty.. I could listen to them forever.." He's already tailing his own orgasm, the feeling of you tightening around him edging him closer and closer.

"I'm gonna cum..." You whimper, gripping his forearm as he thrusts deeper, aiming for that one spot that made you see stars. "Cum for me, angel..." He encourages, his thrusts getting sloppy as his own climax builds up in the pit of his stomach.

"Fuck... Do you want me to pull out?.." He asks, unsure of how much longer he'll last. "Don't pull out." You command, making his heart flutter. "Yes ma'am..."

You groan at the choice of words, biting your lip to supress your moans as he tightened his hold on your hip, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Shit... Jay.." Your words come off as more of a whisper as your orgasm washes over you. You tighten around Jay, tilting your head back against the pillows as he lets out a deep moan, his hips stuttering.

He comes undone, filling you with his seed as he leans down to kiss you, his hips moving slowly against yours. "You feel so good.."

"I'm gonna make my dad fire you..." You mumble, finally managing to say something. Jay's eyebrow raises at your words, tracing soft patterns on your skin. "Why would you want that?"

"So I can keep you to myself like this.. So you don't hold back with me.." You explain as he smiles, leaning down to capture your lips softly with his own. "Angel, you don't have to get me fired for me to love you.. I promise you, I'm done holding back..."

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tysm for the req hope it was okay

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hyung line #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard thoughts #enha smut #jay smut #jay enhypen #jay park #park jongseong #enhypen jongseong #enhypen jay #enhypen jay smut #bodyguard #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #enhypen fanfiction

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zwoftt · 4 months ago

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YESSUR U ALREADY KNOW YA BBG GOT THEM DORYM MOMENTS

(and other moments i like suspoose….))

everybody/npcs being obsessed with dorian and callin him good looking and stuff, he gets all bashful and orym silently smiles.

orym talking to dorian with such a soft voice when speaking of his opal experience. “i know that was a nightmare for you…” UGHH.

laudna suggests they all have funerals for each other. to say what they need to say. robbie and liam sharing a glance???

whenever dorian interacts with his dragon horse, orym always looks so admiringly at dorian.

the way orym remembered how dorian vowed to not abandon the big task in front of his father, and then repeating that they all are okay with taking on the weight- WHILE GLANCING TOWARDS DORIAN, who nods shortly after.

AGH dorian charming chetney!!! the sillies!!!!

just wanna mention how fucking amazing dorian was playing that music for all of the military/war camps. it shows his character so much. and everyone, including liam, was SOOO into it. the little things robbie chooses to make dorian do, because “there’s no other choice”. matt describing how dorian’s presence just uplifts the entire encampment….

dorian laughing when coming back from his small trip, all jolly and happy, positive about him and his friends and the journey ahead. orym making a surprised but ultimately happy face when dorian arrives.

”is this goodbye?” “no this is a go get em.” BADASS.

not orym’s family members recognizing and greeting dorian immediately. holy shit. sick. unwell. yelling. screaming.

braius dragging dorian away to have a secret conversation with him about the group HAHAHA

DORIAN GETTING JEALOUS? AGAIN, WHEN BRAIUS WANTS TO FUCK ORYM???? dorian also standing up for orym “he is the best of us”…

ashton and dorian chitchatting about opal, apologizing, and just bein dudes!!!! god they’ve come a long way!

so much is going on at the end of this episode. so much. this is going to be so chaotic, and i’m here for it. but also here for dorian storm<3 and what madness he’s going to bring to the upcoming episode of meeting the mighty nein!

#critical role #dorym #dorian storm #orym of the air ashari #bells hells #c3 #campaign 3 #cr spoilers #dorian x orym #critical role spoilers #c3e110 #god i love robbie daymond and dorian so much #he has so much chemistry with the cast #and with liam especially. they look like they have so much fun playing pining men for each other #but gods damn it i want dorym to happen soon #sweating bullets thinking about one of them dying before confessing #but also i’m just so nervous that it’ll not ever be canonized on screen (even though in my opinion they are very much canon.)#idk though i have that delusional faith in the players because BOY THEY KEEP DELIVERING!#to me their confession scene already happened a while ago when they TALKED for once like on e94 i think. it was the rain scene #still would love an actual ‘i love you’ or ‘i’m in love with you’.

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months ago

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Yearling - Ch. 33: Discovery

You, Joel and Tommy go on patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-32 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Torture. Smut :). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 9.8k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

February, 2028

“Bambi, tell your husband to stop being a wuss.”

“Wuss?” Joel shifted to look around you to his little brother. “Who you callin’ a wuss?”

“Think I’ll call my brother-in-law a dumbass instead,” you smirked over toward Tommy. “Seems more accurate.”

“You tellin’ me we shouldn’t be following that path there?” Tommy nodded toward a worn spot in the snow on the other side of the river where the three of you had stopped, sitting astride your horses. “The one that looks like it could’ve been made by a dozen fuckin’ men?”

“Who knows how old that is,” Joel said. “Been weeks since it snowed. And water’s lookin’ high. Would be real easy to end up cold and wet for no damn reason…”

“Seem awful scared of winding up cold and wet for someone who’s not a wuss,” Tommy teased.

“I don’t want my wife,” Joel stressed the word and you smiled a little, tucking your chin into your chest to hide it. “Being cold and wet and getting sick because you’ve got some harebrained idea that we need to run down some track that’s long dead.”

“Bambi, c’mon,” Tommy said. “You know I’m right, you know the horses can handle it and you know Joel’s just bein’ paranoid because you’re here.”

Joel wasn’t about to tell Tommy that he was right. At least, not while he was out on his first patrol since the incident in November. It would just worry you, might make you drag him back to Jackson before patrol was done. But Tommy was right. Joel had been nervous all day, worrying about seeing you hurt. Worrying that, whoever had been after him would hurt you, too. That wasn’t something he could abide at any time but now that you were his wife, it was more vital. It felt different somehow.

A lot of things did.

Not that there had been much tangible change since the two of you had said your vows that night in Joel’s bed. Since the attack, you hadn’t slept at your own house even once, you were already living together in every way that mattered. Ellie and Savvy had become like sisters in the few months that Savvy had been in Jackson, you like a mother to his daughter and him like a father to yours. And Joel had always been driven to protect you, from the first moment he saw you he knew he would do damn near anything to keep you safe. But the sense of peace and permanence he had calling you his wife made life alongside you another thing entirely. Protecting and caring for you was all the more necessary now.

The girls had taken the news well, all things considered. Joel hadn’t really been worried about Ellie’s reaction, of course. You were the closest thing she had to a mother and lord knew the girl had been working overtime trying to shove you and Joel back together after you’d left.

But he could tell you’d been worried about telling Savvy.

“That ring fittin’ OK?” He asked as he brought you a cup of coffee in bed just as the sun started to rise on Christmas morning.

“Hm?” You looked up at him from your spot nestled into the pillows, chest bare and blankets over your lap like they had been the night before as the two of you made promises to each other. The hand that was twisting your ring around and around on your finger stilled.

“You’re fidgetin’ something fierce there, Mrs. Miller,” he smiled a little and handed you the cup of coffee. “Wanted to know if that ring was fittin’ OK or if you were just getting cold feet on me.”

“It fits great,” you smiled a little over the coffee cup, taking a sip. “And no, no cold feet.”

“Alright,” he said, sitting in bed beside you in nothing but his pajama pants. His fingers trailed up the bare skin of your arm. “Then I think you should tell me what’s on that pretty mind of yours.”

“You’re gonna get us in trouble, touching me like that,” you said, taking another sip of coffee. “Girls will be here soon…”

“Oh I can be quick,” he teased. “But I’d rather not rush our wedding… well, morning…”

You rolled your eyes but laced your fingers with his, brushing his ring as you did.

“Talk to me,” he said, turning serious. “Don’t want to start this off with secrets.”

“It’s not a secret,” you sighed, looking at his hand for a moment longer before looking him in the eye. “But… I don’t want to hurt Savvy. I want this with you more than almost anything else. The only thing I want more is for her to be OK. I just don’t know how to tell her.”

Joel nodded slowly, watching you.

“Want to do it together?” He asked gently. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t want to get in the way of anything but I don’t want you thinkin’ you’re in this alone because you’re not. That’s the whole point.”

You laughed once and then sighed.

“It might help,” you said after a moment. “I think she likes you more than she likes me.”

“Don’t think that’s true,” he said. “She’s just… dealing with some complicated things. And there ain’t a real guidebook for regular parenting, let alone how you raise a kid after the world ends. She loves you. She really does.”

“Should we tell the girls together then?” You asked, looking uncertain.

“I think, if you’re OK with that?” Joel shrugged. “Yeah. I’d like to do that with you.”

You smiled a little and the two of you adjusted in bed so that you were in his arms, your skin soft against his. You finished your coffee and got dressed just before the clatter of teenaged girls took over the house not long after.

Joel kept you tucked against his side as the two of you watched the girls open their gifts, his lips brushing your temple and giving you a squeeze when he could sense you getting tense. He gathered the two of them that afternoon as the four of you got ready to head to Tommy and Maria’s for dinner, your hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans as you paced the kitchen until Ellie and Savvy were there and you joined him at his side.

“What’s up?” Ellie frowned, looking between the two of you.

“Well,” Joel said gently. “We were hopin’ to talk to you girls about something…”

“Oh God,” Ellie groaned. “Please tell me no one’s doing anything stupid…”

“Nothin’ stupid,” Joel smiled a little, slipping an arm through yours to curve around your back and tug you close to his side. You looked up at him for a moment but he didn’t need to look back to know that you were on the verge of panic. He could feel it, your whole body was tense, your breaths short and shallow. “Something real good, actually. We wanted the two of you to know before anyone else but… well, we decided to get married.”

“Oh shit!” Ellie’s eyes went wide for a minute. “Congrats! It’s about damn time, honestly.”

Savvy, however, was silent. She looked between the two of you, her brows drawn together, a small frown on her face before she stalked out of the room.

You pulled away from Joel immediately and he went to follow you but you put up a hand and shook your head before chasing her down.

“Shit,” Ellie, said quietly, staring out the back door that you and Savvy had just left through. Joel clenched his jaw for a moment, resisting the urge to go find you no matter how badly he might want to.

“Still a sore subject for her, huh?” Joel asked Ellie after a moment.

She sighed.

“I really wish Bambi would give her some idea of what happened,” she said. “Because she really seems to think that she had some kind of easy fucking time… She asked me a little bit about it after you both got back last month. I guess she overheard the doctors talking but I didn’t know what to fucking say. I don’t think she’s actually pissed about the two of you. I think she’s pissed at the idea that she was on her own while her mom was having some happy life here.”

Joel sighed for a moment before giving in and following you out the back door. You were standing in the snow, halfway back to Ellie’s place, your back to him as you focused on Savvy.

“Don’t let me get in the way of whatever dream life you’re tryin’ to have here,” her tone was sharp. “Didn’t let me hold you back before…”

“That’s not what this is,” you said, calm and steady. But Joel could hear the pain on your voice. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me and…”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing that!”

Savvy noticed him then, narrowing glaring at him for a moment. You looked back over your shoulder to him, your eyes large and round and watery. He came up behind you, a hand going to the small of your back as he pressed himself against your shoulder.

“Baby girl,” Joel said gently. “I know this is something that’s big…”

“No shit,” she snapped in a way that was so Ellie that Joel considered talking to the older girl about how she spoke around the younger one.

“But,” he continued. “You and Ellie are our number one priority. Always have been…”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking into the distance instead of at either one of you.

“Us getting married is just about me and Joel,” you said, pressing yourself back into him. “It doesn’t mean we’re choosing each other over you, it doesn’t mean we love you any less. It just means we wanted to make that commitment to each other, that’s all.”

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before looking back at you.

“So what does this mean, then?” She asked. “What’s going to change?”

You looked up at Joel for a moment before looking back to her.

“Not a lot, really,” you said. “We haven’t really talked about where we’re going to live but that’s not too different from how things have been the past few weeks. No one here uses my real name, anyway, and you have your father’s last name, not mine, so even if I did decide to take Joel’s name, it wouldn’t change anything for you.”

She nodded slowly, considering. Joel marveled, for a moment, at how your daughter held her face just like you when she was thinking, the same purse to her lips, the same scrunch of her brow. You’d passed on so much to her even if you didn’t give her your blood.

“Think you can be OK with this?” You asked gently after a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you, honey. I love you more than anything, I don’t want you to be unhappy, especially not because of me.”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy, either,” Savvy said quietly. “I just… I still don’t really get this place. I’m making friends, I’m going to school but… it’s all so different. I still don’t know how I feel about any of it.”

“I know,” you said quietly, reaching out and cupping your daughter’s cheek. Joel held his breath for half a moment, until he realized that she wasn’t going to pull away from your touch. “And I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner or get you here when you were smaller and it would have been easier.”

“I don’t want to be angry,” she said, her voice thick and wet. “I’m so tired, Mom.”

“I know,” you said again, pulling her into you and holding her to your chest. She was stiff for a moment before relaxing into you, her arms going around your waist. “I know, baby.”

It got easier after that. At least on the surface. Savvy was still distant but she didn’t seem to be as antagonistic as she had been before. You moved into Joel’s house - though you traded the sound system at your house for Joel’s - and you set up one of the bedrooms upstairs for Savvy, even though she was still living at Ellie’s.

“At some point, Ellie is going to need her space,” you said, moving the twin sized bed for the fourth time, the wood groaning across the floor as you shoved it into a new place. “She’s a grown woman now…”

“Rather not think about that,” Joel grumbled, even though he’d been trying to find a way to talk to Ellie about her friendship with Jesse in particular. They seemed… close. And who knew what she’d been taught in that damn FEDRA school.

“Think about it or not,” you said, standing back, hands on your hips as you looked at your handiwork. “It’s comin’ for you. She’s going to want to actually live an adult life and that means adult space. Would rather her not feel like she needs to move out of the backyard right away to have that. So… Savvy can just come here.”

Joel thought it was a bit optimistic to think that Savvy would be willing to come here, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that. You were finally showing signs of hope about your relationship with your daughter. You’d been suffering with her so far away. You had done a good job of hiding it - he doubted anyone but him had noticed - but you couldn’t keep going like that, not forever. He didn’t want to ruin it, not now.

Your hopeful nature around Savvy was just another way the world seemed to be changing. The patrols outside Jackson were reporting more and more signs of people and, with them would come more infected. Patrols were starting to pick up and Joel felt the push to make himself useful again with more urgency than ever.

While Jackson was filled with incredibly skillful riders and hunters, Joel knew he was one of the best. Many of the folk here had lived a life that didn’t involve much struggle - at least, relatively speaking - after the outbreak. He’d survived with blood and he was more than willing to shed some more to protect his home and his family. Sitting on the sidelines, lame and useless, didn’t suit him.

He’d learned to avoid the gates and the stables when patrols were coming and going, not wanting to look at the men and women who got to go out and actually make themselves useful with envy that was rooted in the self loathing that had started to bloom inside of him.

He started going to talk to the doctors at least once a week, seeing if he’d made enough progress to start going outside the walls of the city again. It was slow going. Getting approved for sex and lighter work around town was one thing. Getting the OK to go outside and hunt down raiders was - apparently - another matter entirely. But, eventually, he got a hesitant OK from both doctors.

Joel got them to put it in writing - feeling only a little bit like a school boy taking a report card home to his mother - and headed straight for the stable to show you. You were working with a horse, one that had been foaled in Jackson right around the time he’d first found you in the snow. It was old enough now that you could work with it, accustomed enough to people that you’d told him you thought you’d be able to get the horse to broke fast. He stood and watched you for a bit, you standing beside her and getting her used to someone putting pressure on her body to guide her, talking to her in that gentle voice you used when working with animals.

“You gonna just stand there and watch, cowboy?” You asked after a few minutes, not looking over your shoulder to him but Joel knew you were smiling all the same. “Or is there something I can do for you?”

“Man need a reason to come look at his wife?” He asked. You twisted look at him at that and he was right, you were smiling. “I don’t think he does. Not when she’s as pretty as you, anyway.”

“Uh huh,” you looked back to the horse, giving her a treat of some kind. “Feel like you’re tryin’ to butter me up over there.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I just needed to look at ya for a minute.”

“Gimme five minutes,” you said, throwing a mischievous look over your shoulder. “Then maybe you can do more than look.”

Joel laughed a little and watched you finish up with the horse before you led her inside and put her in her stall, him trailing behind you. In all honesty, he was happy to watch you work. You were so good with them, you cared so deeply. It was enthralling in the best possible way, just the physical manifestation of one of the infinite reasons he loved you.

You latched the stable door when you were done with the horse and stood close to Joel, taking his shirt by the fistful and pulling him against you so you could kiss him. He was happy to let you, one of his hands finding your face to hold you in just the right spot so he could dip his tongue into your mouth while you moaned against his lips.

“Before this goes too far,” he said after pulling back from you. “Should talk about something…”

“Should we?” You asked, tugging him against you for another kiss.

“Mhmm,” he hummed against your mouth. You released him and stepped back a little, frowning. He smiled a little. “S’nothing bad, don’t gotta look so worried about it.”

“Alright,” you said, a hint of challenge in your voice. “Then what is it?”

“Well,” he said, holding your gaze and trying to shake the feeling that he’d done something he shouldn’t have. “Talked to the doctors…”

Your eyes narrowed.

“And they’ve OKed me to go out on patrol again…”

“GodDAMMIT Joel!” You stomped away from him, back to him, arms crossed. He gave you a moment to seethe, his hands in his pockets, thumbs drumming a stuttering rhythm on the denim. After a few deathly quiet seconds, you turned back. “Really? You really want to go get yourself fuckin’ killed…”

“Sweetheart…”

“Are we just not enough for you?” You demanded, stalking up to him, arms still crossed tightly in front of you. “Me, Ellie, Savvy. Are we not enough? Do you need to go get some kind of goddamn adrenaline rush, is that it?”

He resisted the urge to fight you on it. Your eyes were watery and wide and pleading.

“You know that’s not what it is, baby,” he whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek and he reached out to gently take your face in his hand, catching it on his thumb. “You’re more than enough, you’re more than I deserve. And you know I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Don’t make this about me,” you snapped. He ignored that, too.

“But we need people who can keep Jackson safe,” he said. “For you, for our girls. I can do that. You know I can…”

“You can’t if you get yourself fuckin’ killed!” You took a deep breath and centered yourself for a moment. “You’re still limping…”

“I know,” he nodded slowly. “But they think I’ll probably limp at least a little for the rest of my life. S’OK. I can ride just fine, won’t hurt me bein’ able to fight…”

“Bullshit.”

“It’ll be OK,” he said gently. “And I’m willin’ to go out with you or Tommy….”

“And,” you cut him off.

Joel frowned.

“And?”

“Me and Tommy,” you replied. “Deal’s changed. You’re limping, you can’t go out with just one of us, it has to be both.”

He sighed.

“Bambi…”

“You want me on board?” You asked. “That’s the deal.”

He sighed again.

“We can talk with Maria,” he said. “See if we have the space for it.”

“Alright,” you said “Because I’m not going to just sit here and watch you get yourself hurt or killed. That’s not what I signed up for.”

“Not what I’m asking you to do,” he said gently. “I don’t want to not come home to you, baby. But I need to make sure I’m doin’ my part to keep Jackson safe.”

It had taken a few weeks for things to line up right with patrols and Joel could feel how tense you were leading up to the day the three of you were heading out. You’d clung to him especially hard the night before. Ellie and Savvy had joined the two of you for dinner and then to play cards and you’d held it together pretty well until they left. But the second they were gone it was like a switch flipped. You pressed yourself against his side, your arms wrapped around his bicep, your head tight against his shoulder.

“You alright?” He frowned.

“Fine,” you said, voice tight.

When he took you to bed, you rode him aching and slow until you came and collapsed on top of him, Joel only lasting a few more deep thrusts into your tight heat before coming undone himself. He held you there, your head against his chest as his hand trailed a slow and easy path up and down your spine. He was still inside you when he felt your tears on his chest.

“Baby,” he said softly.

“Don’t make me come back alone,” you said, lifting your head from his chest enough to look at him, the rest of you still tight against his body. “Please, Joel. Don’t make me lose you, too.”

“Not losing me,” he held your face in his hands. “Promise.”

“You’ll always come back for me?” You whispered.

“Always,” he said softly. “I promise. As long as you promise to always be there to come back to.”

“Promise,” you said quietly.

He’d been worried about how the patrol was going to go after that, but you, him and Tommy had fallen back into your usual patterns easily once you were outside Jackson and you let yourselves relax into them a bit.

It had been an easy patrol until the three of you stopped to give the horses a chance to take a drink and saw the tracks across the river. And Joel couldn’t seem to shake the clutch of fear that gripped him at the thought of putting you in harm’s way by following the trail.

“Tommy, I swear to God, you ever hold this against me…” you began, but he cut you off.

“You’ll shoot me?” Tommy teased.

“Trample you with a horse,” you replied. “But… yeah. You’re right. We should check that trail.”

Joel gave you a look and you just looked back, your brows raised. He sighed.

“Alright,” he said. “Tommy, you take the lead since this is your damn scheme.”

“C’mon lovebirds,” he said, starting across the water. “Sooner we follow this path, sooner we can get back to town and the sooner you two can go back to leavin’ me out of whatever it is you two do.”

Joel was about to give Tommy shit but you beat him to it, lobbing a snowball at him and hitting him straight in the face. Joel barked a laugh as you tried to stifle yours, your arms crossed demurely over your saddle horn.

“Nice,” Tommy said as the snow slid off his face. “Real nice.”

“Well, say stupid shit, win stupid prizes,” you shrugged, smirking a little.

“Not cool, Bambi,” he said, wiping his face clean. “Not cool.”

“You’re right,” you replied, smirk growing. “Think it’s technically cold…”

Tommy leaned around you to look at Joel.

“You’ve had too much influence on your wife,” he said. “I remember when she was a nice girl…”

“Bullshit,” you said.

“Wouldn’t even look at someone mean…”

“Tommy, she’d have always kicked your ass whenever you did somethin’ dumb enough to ask for it,” Joel smiled, a little proud. “Now let’s move before you give ‘er another reason.”

Tommy wiped the last of the snow from his skin with a good natured shake of his head and started off. You called Gatling back into her spot on your saddle as Joel nodded for you to be in between the two of them so he could bring up the rear. At least this way, Joel or Tommy would get hit before you would.

The three of you followed the tracks for a few hours, until things shifted. You noticed it first, that the footprints in the snow looked more well traveled, like people were coming and going from this point in the forest more often than all the way to the water.

“There,” you said quietly, nodding to the brush off the trail. Joel looked where you indicated, a baited trap primed and ready.

“That ain’t been there long,” Tommy said. Joel came up alongside you, closer than he’d normally try to be when on horseback. But it kept the rising fear in him calmer, more contained. He looked around at the ground, the snow so worn down it was hard to have even a remote idea of how many people had been through here recently. Gatling gave a low, rumbling growl and you soothed her with a pet.

“We should go back,” Joel said. “Get backup…”

“That’d be wise.”

Your gun was drawn before Joel or Tommy could reach theirs and you twisted in your saddle to look behind you. Joel turned, too, his sidearm drawn, a group of six men on foot standing about 20 feet back. Their rifles were drawn, at least two of them trained on you. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Why don’t you folks get off those horses,” a man at the middle of the group said. “See what we can figure out.”

You glanced toward Joel before you whistled Gatling down and started to dismount before he had a chance to argue. Joel did, too, arranging himself in front of you - Tommy at his side, shielding you, too - before stepping closer to the group. Joel slung his rifle forward on his arm but kept it tilted toward the man’s legs and not his head. The man who’d spoken smirked.

“Haven’t seen you out this way before,” the man said. “Care to tell us where you’re from?”

“Not really,” Tommy said as Joel looked the group over. They were all large and broad, young and cocky. Looked to be well fed. These weren’t travelers passing through, of that he was almost certain. “You can tell us, though, seein’ as you’re traipsin’ through our territory.”

“Your territory?” The man raised his brows. “Seems like a bold claim for two men and their… pet to make.”

Tommy snapped his rifle up before Joel did.

“Say that shit about her again,” he snapped. “Fuckin’ dare you.”

Your hand went in the middle of Joel’s back, right between his shoulder blades, a gentle and grounding force, before you appeared at his side, Gatling practically glued to your calve.

“Bambi,” Joel growled, your hand trailing over his back before raising your rifle.

The man looked at you, amused.

“She’s come to play,” he smiled. “That’s good, I like ‘em with a little fight…”

“Trust me when I tell you that I’m doing you a favor, giving you the chance to deal with me,” you said, sounding almost eerily calm. “Try me and they’ll kill you. Assuming I don’t kill you first.”

Gatling growled at your feet, crouched and ready to spring.

“Now,” you said. “Where are you from.”

The man looked at you for a moment, all but licking his lips, before turning back to Joel and Tommy.

“You really let your little woman run the show?” He asked. “Can think of a lot better uses for her smart mouth…”

Gatling snarled and flattened her ears against her head. Joel’s eyes narrowed, raising his gun so it was now aimed at the man’s chest, not his legs.

“That’s my wife you’re talkin’ about,” he strained to keep his voice calm. “Now, you gonna tell us where you’re from or are you gonna make me gun you down?”

“How about this,” the man said, still seeming over confident. “You tell us where you’re from, maybe let us have a little fun with your whore wife, you go on your merry way. Otherwise, we can just kill you.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. Tommy adjusted his grip on his gun and Joel gave him a look before glancing over to you.

“Any of them look familiar?” He asked, voice dangerous and low.

“No,” you said. “Don’t know any of them.”

Joel focused back on the men.

“Good.”

He reached out an arm and swept you behind him a half second before he started shooting, Tommy following suit almost immediately. The men shot back, a bullet glancing off Joel’s shoulder as they did. You, of course refused to stay where Joel had tucked you for long. You stepped alongside him, firing, too, as Joel tried not to be distracted by the terrifying possibility of you, bleeding on the ground.

But the three of you were lucky. The men clearly hadn’t been doing this long. Joel wasn’t sure if they were just bad shots or if shooting and killing a person wasn’t something they were really comfortable with yet but either way, they’d dropped five of them, the sixth taking off, a bullet hole in his leg.

You lowered your gun.

“Gatling,” you panted before snapping and pointing toward the man. “Capture.”

She shot off like a rocket, her ears pressed flat against her head. The man was no match for her speed and she launched herself at him, her jaws clamping around the man’s bicep as she wrenched his body to the ground.

You took a deep breath and then looked to Joel’s arm, where there was now a hole in his jacket that the cold air bit through and a small spray of blood.

“Why do you always find some way to get fuckin’ shot?” You asked, your thumbs gently tracing the outside edge of the small wound.

“Just talented I suppose,” Joel smiled a little before looking over at Tommy. “You OK?”

“Fine,” he slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Should question that fucker and get the hell out of here before worse shows up.”

Joel led the way, drawing his knife. The three of you stood over the man, the same one who’d done all the talking before. He seemed much less cocky now, whimpering as Gatling growled around the meat of his arm.

“Call off your fucking dog!” He sobbed. “Fuck, please! I’ll tell you whatever you want, please!”

“Not one to give in to demands like that, but…” Joel looked at you.

“Gatling,” you said. “Release.”

The dog dropped the man’s arm and came to stand against your side, her ribs pressed to your leg. Joel caught the man’s shoulder with the toe of his boot and rolled him onto his back. He tried to sit up but Joel stopped him, pressing his foot into the wound from Gatling’s jaws on the man’s arm. He cried out as Joel forced him to the ground and Tommy kicked the man’s gun away.

“Now,” Joel said, getting down low and putting a knee at the center of the man’s chest. “You’re gonna answer some questions for us.”

***

Normally, watching Joel hurt someone would turn your stomach. It wasn’t a sight you enjoyed to begin with and you’d never seen him torture someone since you’d known how he learned how to. The fact that he had anything in common with the man bleeding on the ground made your stomach clench.

But this was different. Savvy was back in Jackson now. There were a lot of lines you were more than willing to cross to keep men like this far, far away from her. Including this one.

You rested your hand on Gatling’s head, the warmth of her fur comforting and familiar.

“Look at her,” Joel said, taking the man’s chin in his hand and forcing him to face you before looking at you himself. “You sure you don’t know him? Want to make sure I make this worse if you do.”

“I’m sure,” you said. It was oddly comforting, his threat. It was good to know that Joel was still Joel, even when doing stuff like this.

He nodded once and looked back at the man.

“Count yourself lucky,” he said. “She’s makin’ this easier for you. Now, where are you from.”

“Territory north west of here,” he panted. “In Idaho.”

“What brings you down this way?” Joel asked.

The man was silent for a moment outside of his labored breaths, his eyes closed in a wince. Joel sighed, sounding exasperated before lifting his knife.

“I’m gonna ask again,” Joel said. “Last time it’ll be nice. Why are you here.”

“Why should I tell you, hm?” The man spat. “You’re just gonna hurt me, kill me anyway, what goddamn difference does it make?”

“Now see, that’s just a bad attitude to have,” Tommy said, kneeling next to the man. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his head to turn. “We can make this real hard or real easy. We got a lot of incentive to make this easy. We want to get back home to our families, don’t want to just be out here in the cold for hours on end because you’re being a goddamn dumbass. But, we have shit we need to protect. And if that means stayin’ out here while we take you apart piece by piece until you tell us what we want to know then, well, so be it.”

“Give you just a second to think about what my brother told you,” Joel said, pressing the tip of the knife to the man’s shoulder but not pushing it in. “And then you can answer now or you can answer later. Why are you here.”

The man closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath before opening them again.

“There are too many of us,” he said. “Too many groups, been fighting over space for the past few years. Decided to work together for a time, find new territory to expand into. Sent us out here to see what might get in the way. Been tracking the territory of a settlement about a day’s walk from here, trying to see where we can push in and what they’ve got to push back…”

You stiffened, a chill running up your spine. Joel looked up to you, his eyes as concerned as you felt. He looked back at the man.

“How’s that been workin’?” Joel asked. “How are you tracking it?”

“We’ve been marking what we think the outside edges are,” he said. “We’ve been pushing in closer, last few months…”

“Who’re you workin’ with?” Joel asked.

“What?” The man asked, confused.

Joel sighed before pressing the knife into the man’s shoulder and he screamed.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Joel said. “The way you were talkin’ about my wife? I really wouldn’t mind taking my time and takin’ you apart. Who are you working with. Want names.”

“I don’t know!” He sobbed. “Swear I don’t, we run with a guy called Smith, he’s joined up with a couple other guys with groups like his, I don’t know their names…”

“Try and remember,” Joel growled, pressing the knife deeper. You winced and looked away, trying not think about Joel doing this before. Your stomach turned. “The name Mitchum ring a bell?”

“No,” the man said quickly. “Please, no, I promise I don’t know the names! Just that there are three or four of ‘em, that’s all.”

“How far out are the others you’re working with?” He asked. “They gonna be breathing down our necks any second?”

“No,” he said. “No, they’re a few days walk at least…”

Joel nodded before he reached out, brushing his fingers over the outside of your thigh, bringing your attention back to him.

“Any other questions?” He asked you. “Other names?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Nothing else.”

Joel nodded, turning back to the man.

“Can’t let you live,” he said. “You’re a liability. You’re too hurt to get a message back to your people so there’s no point in risking it.”

“Fuck you,” the man spat and Joel shrugged.

“Shitty last words,” he said, pulling the knife from his shoulder before quickly slitting the man’s throat. He gasped and burbled on his own blood for a minute before he went still and quiet. Joel wiped his knife clean on the man’s shirt before sheathing it and getting to his feet. He looked to you then, his eyes wide and soft and deep.

“You with me?” He asked gently. You nodded quickly. He reached out, slowly, to take your face in his hands. His thumbs traced your cheekbones and his eyes looked into yours. “You’re OK? Not…”

“Yeah,” you said softly, cutting him off. “I’m OK.”

You weren’t sure how true that was. He pulled you against him, pressing his lips to your forehead before cradling you against him and holding you for a moment.

“Much as I’m happy you two have worked your shit out,” Tommy said. “We should get moving. Pretty sure he was tellin’ the truth but I don’t want to bet our lives on it.”

The three of you mounted up again, Gatling settling into her space on the front of your saddle.

“So,” Tommy said after you’d been riding for a bit. “Am I allowed to ask the obvious question?”

“Tommy,” Joel said, a warning on his voice.

“Look,” he replied. “Not tryin’ to hurt anyone or fuck up things between you two. But I’ve got a job to do when it comes to protecting my town and protecting my family and you two are a part of both of those things. Can’t defend from something I don’t know.”

“You don’t need -” Joel began but you cut him off.

“Mitchum was the man who held me captive for two years,” you said, staring straight ahead. Gatling gave a small whimper and you scratched her head. Tommy was quiet for what felt like a small eternity.

“He…” Tommy’s voice trailed off. “Two years?” You nodded, not able to look at him. “Two goddamn years?”

Your jaw tightened and your stomach turned.

“Two goddamn years and he ain’t dead yet?” Tommy asked, voice shifting to anger as he rounded on Joel. “The fuck have you been doing?”

“You think he’d still be breathin’ if I knew where to find him?” Joel snapped. “Ain’t that easy.”

“Should do to that fucker whatever he did to you,” Tommy said, ignoring Joel now. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before? We could’ve helped you, could’ve tried to track him down…”

“She don’t want to talk about it, Tommy,” Joel hissed. “Leave it.”

Gatling stretched up to give you a small lick on the chin.

“Joel’s right,” you said, finally making yourself look at the man who had become as much of a brother to you as the boys you’d grown up with had been. The pity in his eyes almost made you turn away. “I don’t want to talk about it. But you should know that he’s still after me. Joel and I ran into trouble on patrol before. One of the men then was one that… I knew him, from before. He said Mitchum is looking for me. He’s got a crew, at least 50 guys when I got out, and he’s looking for me.”

“Jesus,” Tommy shook his head for a moment before steeling himself. “He’s not gettin’ his hands on you. We’ll protect you, not going to let him hurt you, you understand me?”

“I know,” you said, looking straight ahead again. You tried not to think about what the man had just said. That there were groups of men like Mitchum, all bearing down on Jackson.

“Who all knows?” Tommy asked, calmer now. “About… what happened.”

“Joel,” you said, though that should have been obvious. “Ellie knows the broad strokes of it. Now you.”

“Not Savvy?” He asked, frown so evident in his voice that you looked over at him again. He looked sad and you tried not to resent him for it.

“Don’t need her having that shit in her head,” you said, looking forward again.

Tommy was silent for a few minutes.

“I’m really sorry, Bambi,” he said eventually. “You shouldn’t…”

“I don’t want your pity,” you said, harsher than you’d really meant to. “Just… forget I said anything.”

“But…”

“I said fucking forget it, Tommy.”

The rest of the ride back was quiet and you wanted to fix it. But, more than that, you wanted things to go back to how they’d been before. Where Tommy would give you shit and you’d give him shit back, not where he was going to pity you and handle you with kid gloves. You wanted him to keep being your brother, not someone who kept you at arm’s length because they kept picturing the shit that had happened to you.

Olivia was at the stable when the three of you made it back and you were almost disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to get lost in handling the horses on your own for a while. When she stepped to the side for a moment, you took a deep breath and turned to Tommy.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” you said, hoping that this would at least start to fix things. “I get that you need certain… information. I just don’t want you seeing me any different.”

“I don’t,” he gave you a sad half smile. “Just think you’re more badass now, that’s all.”

You scoffed but he waved you off.

“I mean it,” he said. “I do. And I’ll keep it to myself, alright?”

“Thank you,” you said and he pulled you in for a small hug.

“You might be Joel’s girl,” he said. “But you’re my sister. I’m gonna look out for you. No one’s allowed to fuck with you except me.”

You laughed a little at that, Tommy reminding you so much of Richie for a moment.

“I’ll go report out on this patrol,” he said, stepping back from you and looking to Joel. “We got some good information, it’ll help us be ready for whatever’s comin’ our way.”

Joel nodded, a concerned look on his face.

“We’ve weathered hard shit before,” Tommy said. “We can handle whatever these assholes have to throw at us. Took a lot to establish our territory here and I’m not afraid to shed a little blood to protect it.”

He set off and you, Joel and Olivia took care of everything else in near silence, Olivia just filling you in on the goings on while you were gone, seemingly unaware of any tension on the air.

“Should we go by the doctor?” You asked as you and Joel went to leave, your arms tight across your chest. “See if you need stitches or anything?”

“No,” he replied, draping an arm over your shoulders and tugging you closer to press a kiss to your temple. “It’s nothing too bad. Just want to get home.”

You just nodded and let him guide you home, walking in silence, the looming threat from the man Joel had questioned keeping your mind far away.

But when Joel opened the front door, you weren’t met with a quiet living room. Instead, Ellie and Savvy were sitting on the floor around the coffee table, Uno cards fanned out in their hands.

“Should never have told you how the draw cards work,” Ellie was muttering, her back to you and her already sizable hand growing as she drew from the deck in the middle of the table.

Savvy looked up as the door knob thudded into the wall, her eyes finding yours. Her face lit up like she was happy to see you - actually happy to see you.

“Mom!” She dropped her cards and jumped up. “You’re back!”

She ran over to you but stopped short of hugging you, looking you up and down before looking at Joel, too.

“Are you guys OK?” She asked, a little more reserved now, more how you were used to seeing her over the past few months. “Everyone made it through and stuff?”

“We’re fine,” you smiled, trying to actually be in the room with her instead of worrying about the threat of raiders on the horizon. It was easier, knowing that she actually wanted you there. “Is everything OK? What are you two doing here?”

“You were gone a little long,” she bit her lip and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “We just… we wanted to make sure you got home.”

You smiled, reaching out to tuck the stray curl that always popped out from her braids behind her ear. It was an automatic thing, a gesture you’d done countless times since she was a toddler. It didn’t occur to you until your fingers were almost brushing her skin that she might pull back from you now. But she didn’t. She let you touch her, adjusting her hair and cupping her cheek.

“Missed you,” you said quietly.

She smiled. It was tight, a little hesitant, but it was a smile.

“I missed you, too.”

Ellie had gone to the mess hall and brought back dinner for you and Joel and the two of you ate as Ellie and Savvy got Monopoly set up at the kitchen table. The four of you played a game, you paying more attention to explaining things like rents and mortgages and how they’d worked in the real world to Savvy. She crinkled her nose, the concept of money and paying to live inherently foreign to her. Joel kept a hand on your knee for most of it, his thumb tracing a gentle pattern there as you let Savvy clean you out, a small smile on your face every time you had to pay her.

“Well, some of us have to be up early tomorrow,” Ellie said, stretching, back arched like a cat after she won the game. “C’mon Savvy.”

“Yeah, alright,” Savvy yawned and tried to stifle it before getting to her feet.

“It was good to see you,” you said, crossing your arms to keep from reaching for her. “Thank you for staying a while.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, small but not as tight as it had been lately. “It was good to see you, too.”

She looked at you for a moment before hesitantly stepping closer. You lowered your arms and forced yourself to keep them at your sides until she reached for you, hugging you. You slowly, cautiously, hugged her back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you held her close. She felt so foreign but so familiar all at once. You’d never had a chance to truly get used to holding her in the body she’d grown into in the years you were apart but she was still so her, smelling and moving the same as she always had.

You held onto her until she pulled away, her awkwardly staring down at your shoes before clearing her throat.

“Well…” she said. “Goodnight Mom. Joel.”

“Night,” Joel said, coming up alongside you, one of his large hands splaying wide over the small of your back.

“Goodnight,” you smiled a little, your voice wet.

Ellie gave you an encouraging look and followed Savvy out the back door and into the yard. You just stood there, watching them go, until they were inside the shed and the light turned on there.

“Hey,” Joel said quietly from beside you. You turned enough to look at him. He was watching you closely, frowning slightly. “How we doin’?”

You frowned.

“I’m fine,” you said. “Not really sure what you’re asking…”

“Well,” he looked off to the side for a moment before steeling himself and looking back to you with a heavy sigh. “Back when you first came back to me… You said you might need space sometimes. Today… There was a lot that happened, I had to do some shit that I’m sure ain’t easy to watch and… baby, if you need some distance from me…”

“Joel,” you said softly, twisting in his gentle hold so your front was pressed against his. You reached up and trailed your fingers through his curls.

“Want to give you whatever it is you need,” he said as your hands came to rest on his broad chest. He took your wrist gently in his palm and brought it to his lips pressing a kiss into your pulse point. “Even if that’s time away from me.”

“I don’t want that,” you said. “I just want to know you’re here.”

He pulled you a little closer, the hand that was on your wrist trailing down your arm before curling around your back.

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up,” he said, voice low, before leading you upstairs.

You undressed each other while the shower warmed up. You unbuttoned his shirt slowly, methodically, running your fingers over his bared chest before pressing your lips into him there. You examined the place on his arm where the bullet had grazed him, the cut already scabbing over.

“You got lucky,” you said, your fingers tracing over the older scars on his body before you kissed just below the new one.

“Been a lot luckier than I deserve for a while now,” he said quietly.

Once Joel undressed you, you took his hand and led him into the water. You cleaned him gently, lathering the soap in your hands before running them over his skin, cleaning the blood and dirt from his body and finding every mark on him that you’d gotten to know so well. He washed you in return, his large hands cupping your breasts, trailing over your stomach, your arms, cupping you between your legs with tender care. When you were both clean, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your slick, wet body against his own. His cock - half hard and thick - nestled against your stomach.

“C’mon baby,” he said, tilting your head so he could look in your eyes while his nose brushed your own. “Let me take you to bed. Don’t want to rush this with you and don’t trust my bum leg to let me take my time in here.”

You smiled a little and kissed him.

“Promise you’ll take me to a lake this summer?” You asked. “Because I really want to fuck you in the water.”

He closed his eyes and laughed, low and needy.

“Promise, baby.”

You kissed him again.

“Then take me to bed.”

Joel reached behind you to turn off the water and wrapped you securely in a towel before running one quickly through his curls and over his own slick body. You enjoyed the view for a moment - the muscle of his arms and chest, the soft and welcoming swell of his stomach - before starting off toward the bedroom, dropping your towel halfway down the hall and looking back over your shoulder to catch your husband staring at you as you did.

It didn’t take him long to join you, his hands on your waist soon after you were in your bedroom, turning you to face him. His cock was fully hard as he kissed you, his lips hot and needy against you. You arched into his touch, the feeling of him against you, the taste of him on your tongue.

He pulled back from you just enough that you could look into his eyes, all molten hot and soft and open, his nose brushing yours, still breathing the same air.

“Tell me how to take care of you,” he said softly. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just you,” you said, voice breathy and trembling. “I need to feel you, I need you close.”

His mouth swallowed your words as he nudged you back down onto the bed. He arranged you in the middle of it, his skin never far from yours, before he settled in the cradle of your hips. His thick length pressed against your slit, making you moan as he kissed down your shoulder to your breast, taking the firm, pebbled part of you into his mouth and sucking you gently. You whimpered, grinding your hips against him. He kissed over your swell of flesh to your breast bone before looking up at you there, his gaze hot and desperate.

“Needy, are you?” He all but growled before pressing another kiss to your chest. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take real good care of you. Just let me enjoy you first.”

He worked his way to your other breast, sucking you there while he cupped and gently toyed with the other one, his cock rocking against your core the whole time. You could feel your pussy starting to drip for him, your grasping entrance desperate for something to hold.

“Please Joel,” you panted, working your hips up against him as best you could with the weight of him holding you still. “I need you, please, please…”

He pulled his mouth from your nipple with a reluctant groan before adjusting his hips, your clit throbbing in protest of the loss of contact for a moment before you felt his head notch against your entrance. Joel hovered over you, the soft skin of his chest and stomach ghosting over yours, one of his hands coming to cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing tenderly along the peak of your hairline.

“What do you need?” He asked, sounding nearly breathless himself. “What’s my pretty, perfect wife need, hm?”

“You,” you whimpered. You didn’t really care if you sounded pathetic, you needed Joel too much. “Inside me, please, please…”

“Don’t worry baby,” he said. “Give you exactly what you need, always gonna take care of you.”

You felt him press into you then, his cock opening your tight channel as he sank into you. You closed your eyes and arched into the familiar, pleasant burn of the stretch of him followed by the almost shocking fullness when he was fully sheathed within you. He stilled there for a moment, your body adjusting to his size, and you could feel all of him. He was so close like this, closer than anyone else had ever been. Your body held onto his, your thighs around his hips, hands over his chest, pussy stretched taut over his cock. You could feel every breath he took, every throb of his cock within you. He was yours like this, yours and yours alone.

“This what you needed?” His voice trembled. You could only nod. He pulled back from you and you whimpered before he thrust back in with a grunt. “Good. Always give you what you need, baby, always.”

He fucked you hard and slow, his thrusts almost bruising in their force and making your hands leave his chest to twist and tangle in the blankets as your orgasm built. He set his aching rhythm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth and devouring all your needy, fucked out sounds.

Your whole being was drawn in tight and hot when he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your hand to the bed.

“C’mon baby,” Joel panted as he thrust into you deep and hard. “Let me feel you, just let go for me. You’re OK, you’re here with me, just give in. I’ve got you, baby. Take care of you, just give in, just come for me. Just come.”

You pressed your hips up against him and came, your fingers tightening around his as your pussy pulsed and throbbed and he fucked you through it.

Joel didn’t last long, though. Your climax had barely begun to ease when he pressed himself deep and came with a strangled cry. He kissed you as he finished before collapsing onto you for a moment, the heavy weight of him soothing and centering as you came back down to Earth.

After a minute, he pulled himself gently from your fucked out body and lay beside you, still panting for breath as he watched you next to him. You rolled to face him and pressed yourself close, burying your face in his chest that smelled like soap from the shower with a hint of sweat from what happened after. His hand brushed over your hair and down your back in a gentle, easy cadence. He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head and you felt him take a deep breath, his nose nuzzled into your hair.

“You with me?” He asked softly. You nodded into his chest. “How’re you feelin’?”

“After that?” You teased lightly. “I’m great.”

He chuckled.

“Not what I meant, love.”

You took a deep breath, taking the centering scent of Joel into yourself.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I guess I just… I kept thinking raiders were far away from here. Sure, they were out there, we ran into them sometimes, but they weren’t a problem. Not really. But they’re not, they’re right there and I…” your voice cracked and he pulled you tighter.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “M’sorry.”

“Savvy’s here now,” you said, trying to keep yourself from crying. “Ellie… she goes out there. And now you do, too, and… I know I sound like a goddamn broken record but I cannot survive losing any of you. I can’t. And they just take, they take and take and they won’t stop until there’s nothing left and…”

You buried your face in his chest, not able to keep going.

“It won’t be like that this time,” he whispered. “You’re not doing this alone. I’ve got you and anyone who wants to even glance at you or our girls will have to go through me. And good luck keepin’ me from coming home to you.”

You laughed once at that, the sound thick and wet.

“I’m going to protect you, Bambi,” he said, his tone serious now. “I promise you. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep us all safe.”

Next Chapter

A/N: I dunno guys, I feel like something might be about to happen.

Could just be me, though.

👀👀👀👀

Thank you, as always, for reading. I really can't say how much it means to me that you're here, that you're so kind and supportive, that you choose to spend your time with this story. I appreciate it so much.

Love you!

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#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic

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cinnbar-bun · 1 year ago

Text

Heartless Giant- Chapter 1

(Excuse the banner)

Pairing: Crocodile x GN!Royal!Reader

Rating: SFW

First part of a collaboration with @fanaticsnail 's Storyteller collection! I chose to do the "Heartless Giant" with Crocodile. Thank you for having me as a part of this, dear <3!

Summary: Your older brothers claim that the man who tried to overthrow your kingdom is still in the dungeons below. Such a monster shouldn't possibly exist, right? After a bet and a promise, you and your brothers travel down the dungeons to find the proclaimed "giant". Those rumors should be nothing more than gossip... right?

Notes: GN!Reader, Prisoner!Crocodile (for my Impel Down Croc lovers), implied age gap, Reader is an adult but age is not specified, violence, bad siblings, protective Crocodile, "falling for my father's enemy" teehee

You can read this on my AO3 here!

Word Count: ~2.7k

It happened years ago, they said. A man- more akin to a beast, if anything- tried to take over and kill the king. Your father, ever the gallant ruler, fought the giant beast and sentenced him to eternal imprisonment in the lowest cell of the castle dungeons.

A part of you was thankful you were not there to witness such a sight. To see your beloved father have to fight what was perhaps the scariest enemy in a long time would’ve frightened you. Yet, another part of you was admittedly… curious. Your elder brothers always warned you against going to the dungeon. They always joked that the giant would eat you and your heart.

“He towers over everyone… his shadow looms over everything,” the eldest would say. Your second brother chuckled along with him before hunching his back and cupping his left hand.

“He’s got a big hook, too. If his ugly face sees ya, he sinks it into ya!” He swung his arm around like it was a hook and your third brother pretended to be scared. He grinned after his performance and slunk to you.

“And, father says, with only his right hand, the giant takes away your life. He just,” your brother covered your face with his right hand and shook you while growling loudly. “Drains you until you’re a husk!”

You shove your brother off of you and roll your eyes.

“There’s no way anyone like that exists,” you huff and adjust your appearance. Your three older brothers laugh wildly, as if you had told the funniest joke in history.

“Oh come on, you didn’t see him!” The third one says. “You were on a different island!”

“I doubt you saw him, either,” you cross your arms. “You guys would be terrified if a man like that really existed.”

“Are ya callin’ us liars?” The second one frowns and raises a brow. “Don’t make us throw you into the dungeon with ‘im!”

“Maybe I am! Why would you go and try to make a joke out of a man that father had to battle like that?”

“Ugh, there you go, again,” the first rolls his eyes. “Can’t even take a joke!”

“I think all those books ruined yer brain, (Y/n),” the second chortles as he points at the book in your hand.

“I think all the seawater melted yours,” you shoot back and hold your book tighter.

“Well, I just hope you can fight if that beast breaks out one day!” The third one laughs. He takes his sword out of his holster and swings it with calculated precision. He sheaths his sword and you sigh.

“We can hope he never does,” you reply. “Maybe you three will be courageous enough to actually look him in the eye.”

“Those are fighting words! Ya think we can’t look him in the eye?” The second yells.

“I don’t think so,” you taunt. “He probably doesn’t even look anything like what you just said.”

“Fine. We’ll take ya down to see him and prove to you how dangerous he is. And when you cry, we won’t save you.”

Seeing your brothers so adamant to prove themselves made your arrogance rise as well. Not to mention, that little voice in your head that was always, always wanting to see the man your father had cursed under his breath over and over since that day. In a sick, twisted way, you wanted to see the man that nearly brought your kingdom to ruin when you were away.

“Fine. We can all go together and we’ll see just how tough you are from the ‘giant’.”

Your brothers smirked and nodded. The eldest stepped forward and whispered. “At midnight. Be quiet. The guards and father are having a meeting tonight. Use the back staircase and we’ll all meet by the doors.”

All four of you shook upon it and continued with your day. Your heart raced, your thoughts drifting to that beast locked away in the dungeons.

A man who towered over everyone. A man with a hook. A scarred face. The power to take life away with only his right hand.

You tried to imagine how this monster would look, but all images your mind conjured were hideous and unsightly. You shivered, yet the way your feet bounced with nearly every step gave away the excitement you secretly held inside.

After pretending to fall asleep on your bed, you waited till the moon was at its highest and opened the door. You peered out the hallways, checking if the coast was clear before scurrying along to the rendezvous point with your brothers. Just as they had promised, the three of them were waiting for you with eager grins and smiles.

“So you really did come?” The first chuckled. “Thought you would’ve hid away.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you clicked your tongue. “I’m ready to see how you three will react to him, though.”

“Please, that man’s got nothing on us,” the second dismissed. “Four against one, he’s done for.”

“More like three against one,” the third snorted, nudging his head to you.

“I don’t need to fight. None of us should need to, actually. We’re just taking a look, and then we’re leaving.”

They glanced around before your second brother picked the lock to the cellar with a pin he had taken from your mother. They urged you inside and checked that none of you would be discovered.

The dungeons were dark, mildewy, and worst of all, freezing. You shivered as you realized your nightclothes were a bit too light for this cold place.

“Come on, hurry up,” your brothers whispered as they practically ran down the steps to the lowest dungeon level. You made an effort to catch up with them before you noticed how low the temperature was down here. Every time you and your brothers let out a breath, you could see the small amounts of steam cloud around you four.

They lived in such conditions…?

Your brothers quickly made their way to the farthest cell in the dungeon and laughed loudly.

“There he is!”

“Ahaha! My god, he’s hideous!”

“Come on, give us a glance!”

You gasped at what your brothers were saying. “Don’t say things like that! You know better than that.”

As foolish as you were to come down here, you were not foolish enough to insult the beast.

The third rolled his eyes. “Oh, quiet down will you?”

“What are you, our mother?” The first glared. He began to bang on the bars. “Wake up, will you?”

You made your way to the cell and noticed the looming shadow in the corner. His back was towards you and your brothers, barely clothed in the rags he wore. There were two large chains wrapped around his arms, preventing him from using them to escape and use the ferocious powers your brothers discussed. He was sitting, hunched over, yet, even in this position, you could tell how large and massive he was. He hardly moved or flinched at the noise your brothers made, making them more upset.

“Come on! Give us something! Look us in the eye!” They hit the bars again, but the man stayed as still as a statue.

This was the man who nearly ended your kingdom…

You didn’t need to see his face, but through his behavior alone, you knew that despite him being in the cell, you and your brothers were his prey.

“Cut it out, now,” you warned, the anxiety creeping in your voice.

“What? Scared? Scared the ugly beast will eat ya?” The second brother called out. The third brother continued to make loud noise.

“Come on, we got our little sibling here! Don’t you want to impress them, giant?” He yelled before he grabbed you and pushed you against the bars. You yelped in pain and from the cold metal pressing into your face and body.

“Stop it! Let me go!” You screamed.

“What happened to the beast who tried to end us? Huh? I thought you gave my father a good fight! So look at us!” The first glowered at the giant before he smirked at the ground.

“What are you doing? Stop that!”

“Would you just shut your mouth?” The first leaned down to pick up a large rock and tossed it in his hand. Your other brothers chuckled darkly while you shook your head.

“No… this wasn’t what we said we’d do! It was just to look!”

“He can’t do anything to us. Look at him. He’s wasted away. Just watch,” the first says as he pulls his arm back before launching the rock at the giant. It hits him square in the back of his head and echoes as it patters to the ground.

All is silent as you and your brothers stare. Yet, still, the giant does not move.

“What a waste! He’s a dumb ogre! Can’t even look at us properly,” the second sighs.

“Why would you do that?!” You shout at your brother. “Why would you throw that?”

“You challenged us to see if we were scared. I think that beast is scared of us! He doesn’t even move!”

Your brothers roared in laughter while you heard the rattling of the chains. Your eyes widened in horror as you noticed the man’s arms were beginning to move slowly.

“G-guys. Let go. We need to go,” you beg. “Let me go.”

You try and remove yourself from your brother’s grasp while they all laugh harder.

“What? Scared? You’re even stupider than him!” They tease you. The third shoves your face harder into the bars.

“Oh go on, you’re both stupid cowards! Go on! Why don’t you give him a little kiss? He might like that!”

You struggle against your brother as you hear the chains clink. Your brothers laughter echoes in the dungeon until the third screams loudly in pain.

You hardly have time to notice what is going on as you’re flipped around and see the third is on the floor, gripping his bleeding hand in pain while your other brothers are wide-eyed and trembling. Your back is now against the bars and you feel a cold metal against your throat.

You’re shaking, afraid for your life as you glance down to see a gold hook pressed against your skin.

Your other two brothers quickly unsheathe their swords and point it to the assailant, but their fear is evident by the way they can’t even hold their weapons properly.

“The g-giant…” the first whispers, quaking in his boots. You know it’s a bad idea. Every part of you is screaming to not do so. Your mind races with warnings and against your better judgment…

You lean back and try to glance up. You freeze as you look up to the giant’s sharp features. You can’t see much from this angle, but you can make out how tall he is. Your brothers’ descriptions of him didn’t do him justice, and you recognize how much more imposing his figure is.

He presses his hook harder, pulling you further to him. He was careful not to use the pointed end of it to hurt you, but in your current state, you couldn’t care.

A low grumble catches your attention as you realize it is the giant attempting to speak.

“Do not touch them ever again,” his low voice threatens. Your brothers are even more shaken by the giant’s voice as they squeak and stumble backwards.

“W-wait, don’t-” you cry, not wanting to be alone. Your brothers put away their weapons as they force themselves back up and run away, screaming bloody murder. Your heart sinks as you watch your brothers run off without you as their voices get quieter in this dark dungeon. The giant removes his hook from you, dropping you unceremoniously to the ground as you struggle to breathe.

“Go,” is all he says, his shackles shaking as walks back to his corner. You don’t know what to think.

“You’re not…?” You begin, unsure of what to say at all. Do you thank him? Apologize? Cry? Leave? You’re too stunned to know what to do next.

“No. Just go. You shouldn’t be down here, anyways.”

“Wait,” you call to him. “Why did you save me?”

“Would you prefer I kill you?” He sharply replies.

“No. I just… I didn’t expect that from you…” you mumble. He sighs.

“You were foolish for coming down here. And you were even more foolish for allowing them to use you like bait.”

“I didn’t think they would,” you admit pathetically.

“Of course you didn’t. Life’s pretty easy up there, isn’t it, your highness?” He bitterly laughs.

“Don’t patronize me. I just wanted to know why you would do such a thing.”

“Telling you wouldn’t make a difference. Just let me rest and rot away the rest of my life in peace, would you?”

You stop and nod, the adrenaline wearing off as you’re back to feeling the bitter cold on your skin. “Are you not freezing down here? You’re hardly wearing anything that could keep you warm.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Prisoners aren’t afforded that luxury, your highness. We stay in the cold and in this silence to pay for our crimes.”

The logic was understandable, but you felt a pang of guilt in your heart.

“I haven’t thanked you for saving me and stopping my brothers, yet,” you start, fumbling through the ideas in your head. “Thank you. As a show of my appreciation, I’ll bring you something to keep you warm.”

He stood still, as if considering your words. “You would do something like that for me?”

“Yes. I will do so. I’ll bring it down for you as soon as I can,” you assure him, feeling resolute in your decision. Criminal he may be, but royalty you were. Even the worst subjects required kindness and repayment for their actions.

He turned his body around, and you managed to see his face fully under the dim light of the lantern. His face was sharp, chiseled, and scarred. The scar ran across his face over his nose, and the stitches on it looked brutal. The dark circles and bags under his eyes were prominent, like the strands of hair that were falling and framing his face. It was clear he tried to slick it back, but given his situation, he couldn’t do much with it in this grimy cell.

You gasped at his appearance, taken aback by how strangely beautiful you found him. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.

“Don’t worry, I get that a lot,” he smoothly teased. “Do I look like the monster you thought I was?”

“No,” you earnestly respond, surprising him, somewhat.

“Oh? Why is that?” Unlike your brothers, who cowered away in fear, you looked directly into his dark eyes with a firm resolve.

“You look just like a man…” you reply. His eyes flicker with light for a brief moment, before they return to the dull color they were a moment ago.

“Monsters can look like men, your highness. You should know better than that.”

“Yet you did not kill me when you had a chance. Would a monster spare me?”

“I guess not,” Crocodile sighed. “Perhaps I’ve gotten soft while being locked away for so long.”

“I can only hope. But I promise, I will bring you the gift soon.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, your highness. It gets terribly cold down here,” he replied in a drab voice. He turned himself around and faced the stone walls. “I don’t have anything else to say to you tonight.”

You were taken aback by his abrupt statement but chose not argue further. He had done you a massive favor, and you too would probably feel the same way if locked away here for so long.

“Thank you again,” you said to him before you pulled yourself up and dusted the dirt off your nightclothes. You glanced back at him, but the man was back to staying silent and not moving.

What a dreary life that must be…

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #x reader #reader insert #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece #storyteller au #heartless giant #the heartless giant

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