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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 2 days

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A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 5

You can read chapters one, two, three, and four here.

A/N: Not @ me pulling an all nighter to finish a protocol for uni and submitting it at 6 in the morning just 10 minutes before the deadline. Then proceeding to edit this chapter. This series in ruining my future, because all I did in the last two weeks is write 20 chapters! instead of the four protocols that I should've written on time. Anyways, enough about me. Y/n is fighting everyone in this chapter and saying hurtful things along the way.

Summary: Tension rises as Y/n only makes things harder for everyone around her. After moving into the Town House, she is attacked by the King’s soldiers.

Warnings: angst, slight violence, blood.

Word Count: 4.1 K.

Coming to check on Elain, much to Y/n’s surprise, she was not in her room. She paced towards the room where Nesta usually sat, only to hear her telling someone to get out. When she arrived she found Nesta and Feyre by the door and Elain and Lucien sitting in the room.

“I told you to keep him away from her” Y/n glared at Feyre, her voice tight with frustration.

“I came for a book” Lucien stated, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You don’t fool me, you one-eyed bastard. Get out!” she kept her voice steady, though a storm was building within her.

“She needs fresh air. Get her out of this house” he advised, and although he was right, Y/n barked “do not tell us what my sister needs. You don’t even know her”. In a moment of intense anger, a faint spark danced across her fingertips, the sensation lost amidst the turmoil of her emotions. She clenched her fists tightly, extinguishing the spark, the potential within her remaining hidden.

Feyre had come this morning to apologize for the previous night, but upon being seen in the same room as Elain and Lucien, it only made things worse.

“Y/n, I-”.

“Save it” she gave her sister a glare before storming out.

—

With no one around, Y/n felt cooped up and could not leave even if she wanted to. She decided to explore the rest of the house. Reaching the library, she felt something tighten around her chest. She was greeted by Clotho who wrote on a paper offering to assist her. She didn't even know why she was here, but then an idea came to her. She wrote back “do you have books about the anatomy and strong and weak points of the Fae?”.

“You want to learn about your body?”.

“Something like that”.

Clotho signaled one of the priestesses who led Y/n to the aisle about Fae anatomy a couple of floors below. She started reading out of curiosity but got sucked in. The tightening of her chest returned and she finally put the book down. She looked around, but no priestesses were in sight. She walked around the library when she saw a dark pit below. Something was drawing her closer, and she decided to investigate. She heard a faint voice ask “who walks here?”.

“Hello. Is there anyone here?”. No answer. She resumed her descent.

“Who dares disrupt my sleep?” the voice was louder.

“I-I did not know there was anyone here. I’m Y/n”.

“Ah, the one who’d been lost. I see you’ve been found”.

“What does that even mean? Who are you?”.

“You mean to say, what am I?”.

“You’re not Fae? Wh- where are you? How is it possible that your voice is everywhere?” Y/n was now going down carefully, as the lights began to fade.

“Fae?” the voice laughed “I’m much older, girl-”.

“Y/n, what in the Mother’s name are you doing here?” Cassian grabbed her wrist and led her upstairs.

“What the hell, prick? Let go of me!” but Cassian did not release her until they were in the upper part of the library, where it was safe.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” this was the first time she’s seen Cassian angry. His wings flared slightly, a sign of his agitation.

“What has gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated “how can you just go down there? Do you know what lies beneath the library?”.

“No, I do not. No one has told me anything. In fact, this is the first time I’ve been to the library”.

“You stupid fool”.

“Mind your tongue, General”.

“Why did you even go down there?”.

“Because- I- I don’t know. Something was calling to me. I had this strange feeling and it led me there” she explained.

“If it ever calls to you again, do not answer. Do not go down there, do you understand me?”.

“I do not take orders from you, General. I’m not one of your soldiers that you can command”.

“Mother above, Y/n. Will you just listen for once?” Cassian sighed. He’d never dealth with such a stubborn and infuriating woman before.

“What is down there?”.

“A creature you do not want to face, trust me. Please, just stay away. I’m not commanding, I’m asking”.

“Alright, whatever. How did you even know I was here?”.

“I stayed behind to guard the city and you and Elain-”

“I don’t need guarding”.

“I know. When I came to the house, you weren’t there, so I had to check. When I got to the library, Clotho told me you were here. I did not think you’d do such a stupid thing, but when I came to find you you weren’t there. Only the book you were reading. Why are you studying our anatomy?”.

“I need to know everything about my enemies in order to defeat them”.

“Do you plan on killing me?” he chuckled.

“If you keep annoying me”.

“You’re lucky that I found you. You could have died”.

“Am I supposed to thank you? You don’t know that. Maybe whatever is down there just wanted to chat” she shrugged.

“Since when do you see the best in people?”.

“I don’t, but it is not a person, is it?”.

“Let’s just get out of here” he rolled his eyes.

“Where is everyone?”.

“Hewn city. If you agreed to help, you could’ve gone with them”.

“And see more of your kind? From what I heard, they’re even worse than you”.

“Much worse”.

“Then why would I ever want to go there?”.

“Fair point. But what about your powers, don’t you want to learn about them?”.

“You don’t know if I have any”.

“You are Cauldron-made. I-we believe that each of you has powers”.

“Power or no power, I’m not doing anything to help you”.

“Why not? You’d help save everyone”.

“You ask a lot of questions, General”.

“And you answer none”.

“I don’t owe you or anyone an answer”.

“Sorry, I asked… I have to go now, Rhys just informed me of their return. And please don’t go down again”.

“I won’t. Tell my sister and your brother to come here tomorrow, I have something to discuss with them”.

—

To Y/n’s surprise, not only Feyre and Rhys were in the living room the next morning, but also Cassian, Azriel and Nesta.

“Good morning” she greeted Nesta, and Nesta only. “How are your lessons going?” she took a seat next to her sister.

“I’m learning to shield myself. Yesterday was tiring” Nesta informed her.

“I want to go home” Y/n informed Feyre, who was taken aback, much like everyone else in the room.

“What? This is your home now” Feyre said.

“No, this is your home. I want to leave. I want to go back”.

“But you’re not human anymore” Feyre reminded “they won’t accept you there. It’s not safe”.

“I can glamour myself. And I can decide what risks I’m going to take myself”.

“You can’t glamour yourself forever”.

“Why do you care? I have made my decision. I want to leave” she persisted.

“Because you are my sister, and I want what is best for you”.

“And you think this is what’s best for me? To be locked up in here with nothing to do, surrounded by people I don’t like. I’m sorry that your human life was miserable, that you had to hunt for our family’s survival and just because you found a purpose here, just because you fit in, doesn’t mean we all have to. I had a life back then, a good one”.

“No one is locking you up. I told you, you can leave any time you wanted” Rhys reminded.

“How am I supposed to leave if no one is here to take me out? Or am I magically supposed to send a letter that would go wherever you are?”.

“You can call with your mind and I would send whoever is nearest to get you” Rhys explained.

“Nice trick, so you can enter my mind and read my thoughts? I’m not stupid”.

“I would never do such a thing, I give you my word”.

“You and your words that you can’t keep” she huffed.

“Y/n-” Feyre tried to diffuse the situation.

“I.want.to.leave”.

“It’s not safe. Not for you and not for your father. You have to think ab-”.

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you” her reply came with a huffed chuckle “where was all that talk when you came to us for help? Or did our safety not matter to you when your new family wanted help? Because from where I stand, everything that happened to us was because of a decision you made” Y/n’s voice grew quiet, almost hesitant, pain and disappointment evident in her tone. Y/n didn’t want to say these words aloud, knowing her sister felt guilty, nonetheless. But bottling up her feelings all this time backfired on her.

“Don’t blame Feyre for what happened to you. If you want someone to blame, blame the King of Hybern, blame me” Rhys defended.

“Oh, I do, and his turn will come. But she played a part in what happened, I begged her to take her business elsewhere... I played a part in what happened” her voice faltered “we all did. And you? You want to know why I hate you? You made a promise that you couldn’t keep. You and your brothers promised to protect my sisters and when they needed that protection, you were all helpless. I should’ve never trusted you or let you anywhere near them and I have no one but myself to blame. I knew of the danger your kind would bring us, but still I allowed it to happen and now my sisters are suffering and Elain lost her fiance. All because of one decision” tears were now filling up in her eyes, but no one dared to speak. They all partly blamed themselves for what happened to the sisters and now with her confession, they know she blamed them too. A reminder that they have failed her and her sisters.

“It’s not your fault. No one blames you” Nesta finally spoke, trying to comfort her older sister. This was the first time she saw her break. She was always composed, didn’t let anything or anyone get to her. A faint smile appeared on Y/n’s face before she wiped away the tear that slipped and composed herself. She wanted to say something but had no energy left in her to argue, so she only nodded.

“You are right, it would put my father in danger. I won’t make that mistake twice” Y/n admitted before silently walking out of the room.

—

“What’s going on?” Y/n stepped out of her room as she heard noise and movement coming from outside.

“We’re moving to Rhysand’s townhouse” Nesta informed her sister.

“Great! And when was this decision made?” Y/n sighed.

“Yesterday… after you left”.

“I see. Is it because-”.

“Elain needs fresh air and staying here won’t help anyone”.

“Right… Was anyone going to tell me or were they just going to drag me there?”.

“I was sent to inform you, since-”.

“Since I basically told them to piss off”.

“Something like that. Let’s go” Nesta led her sister upstairs where the Illyrians and their other sisters were waiting, in addition to the one-eyed ginger. Azriel was the only one who dared to offer to take Y/n. He was met with sympathetic looks from his brothers and Feyre.

To his surprise, Y/n did not object and took the hand he extended to her. This time she’d be calm and composed. She did not say anything during their flight and neither did he. Knowing how she felt about him- them, he could not face her, as guilt crept up on him. They were the first to arrive and when they reached the front door, he released his grip from her waist and opened the door. “Where’s my room?” was all she asked. He informed her and she nodded in thanks before leaving for her room.

—

The next day, a healer called Madja was sent to examine Elain. To see if something was wrong with her, but she found nothing. She informed the sisters that there was nothing wrong with her physically and that she cannot enter her mind, since apparently being Cauldron-made gave them immunity against anyone who tried peeking around in their minds. This made Y/n feel pressure lifted off her, seeing as now neither her sister or Rhys can ever read her mind without permission. Madja suggested that Lucien try, seeing as he was her mate, maybe he could sense something they couldn’t. Although Y/n hated the idea, she agreed for her sister’s sake.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Y/n yelled at Lucien as Elain stood from her seat startled by whatever he did.

“Nothing” he claimed and apologized to Elain. After a while, Nesta walked out of her lesson with Amren and took Elain to the garden, away from Lucien. He informed Feyre that he felt her, but as Y/n thought he could not sense what was wrong. Feyre assured him they could try another day before walking after her sisters to retrieve Nesta for Amren. Lucien was left standing alone with Y/n.

“Don’t even think about getting together with my sister” Y/n warned.

“She’s my mate” he reminded.

“I’m letting you near my sister, you one-eyed bastard. You have done enough damage. You might be able to fool the others, but you don’t fool me. I know the only reason you’re here is because Elain is your “mate”. If she wasn’t, you wouldn’t have cared, you would’ve stayed with that dumb fuck of a male, his existance is a waste of oxygen. And don’t think I’ll ever forget how when my Feyre was suffering, when your ‘friend’ locked her up, you did nothing. When you tried taking her back by force, after seeing how she suffered. When you stood by while that monster made a deal with the King to use his land to slaughter humans. When my sisters became what they are because of you and your friend’s stupidity. You couldn’t even be a good friend, and let him spiral out of control, let him become the villain that everyone hates. So, over my dead body would I let you have her, but I don't put it past you to kill me to get to her, knowing who you keep company. But at least if you kill me, Elain will see you for who you truly are” Y/n said coldly, only hatred in her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry about wh-”.

“You’re only sorry, because she happens to be your mate. Don’t waste your time with me, I will never forgive you” she walked slowly upstairs, knowing her words will leave a deep scar.

—

Y/n was on her bed reading, when two High Fae males appeared in her room. From the way they looked, Y/n knew they were the King's soldiers. She promptly jumped out of bed and shouted “Elain, get out of the house now! RUN”.

“Don’t worry, we’re not here for your sister. At least not that one” one of them smirked.

“Stay back!” she warned.

“Or what?” one of them blew out blue Faebane dust at her, rendering her magic, whatever it was useless “you can either come with us willingly and make it easy for everyone or you can try and fight back, but it won’t be fun, at least not for you” one of them laughed as he took his blade out.

“I think you know which one I’m sticking with” she gave them a smile, not letting them see her fear. As one tried to move towards her, she threw the lamp on her bedside table at him and jumped on the bed, hoping to reach the door. The other one was fast enough to yank her back by her braid, throwing her on the floor. “Is that all you’ve got?”.

“I’d say it’s not fair to fight an unarmed woman, but again when is it ever fair?” She managed to kick him in the balls before getting back up on her feet and opening the door. When she reached the stairs, one of them pushed her down, resulting in a few bruises and a sprained ankle, possibly a mild concussion as well, but surprisingly nothing more. She limped to the kitchen, in search of a sharp object she could use. The first thing she saw was a small knife, but it would have to suffice. “What do you think that knife is going to do?” a mocked laugh came from one of them as he slowly walked into the kitchen.

“That depends on your fighting style. It could be the eye, your throat or even land right between your eyes or legs. Who knows?” she shrugged “I’m not going down without a fight. The only way you’re taking me with you is if I’m dead”.

“The king needs you alive, but he said nothing about harming you” one of them lunged forwards but before he could reach her, Azriel ripped his throat with his bare hands, blood splattering all over Y/n’s face and nightgown. Before the other one could react, Azriel threw his blade, Truth-Teller at him, which landed in the middle of his face.

“I had it covered”.

“I’m sure you did. Are you alright?” Azriel scanned Y/n bodies for any injuries.

“I’m fine, but Elain-” she remembered as the adrenaline wore off.

“She’s fine. No one tried to attack her” his hands were on her shoulders, still scanning her.

“I’m fine, Shadowsinger. I just sprained my ankle” she reassured him.

“That is what’s worrying me. You fell down the stairs and only got a sprained ankle”.

“How do you know that I fell? And are you saying you’re disappointed I didn’t break my neck or get worse injuries?”.

“I- that’s not what I meant. Just forget it and I’m sorry about the mess and the blood” he gestured to the blood on her face.

“That’s the least of my worries” she chuckled.

Azriel had just finished getting rid of the bodies, while Y/n sat on the couch with an ice pouch applied to her ankle when Feyre, Nesta, Rhys and Cassian walked through the front door.

“You look like hell” Y/n said to her sisters.

“I could say the same to you” Nesta gestured to the blood still all over her and the messed up braid.

“You should see the other males” Y/n stood up and gave her sister a warm hug “I’m glad you’re alright” she took a step back and shifted her gaze to Feyre “both of you”.

The others arrived and gathered in the living room to plan for any future attacks. They informed Y/N why the King was after them and what had happened to the queen who jumped in the Cauldron after them, but still she couldn’t understand how that would happen, seeing as she went in after Nesta and nothing happened to her.

“Maybe it’s because you went in immediately after Nesta and the Cauldron did not realize she took something from it” Cassian suggested.

“But as I recall, you stayed much longer than Nesta and Elain” Rhys reminded.

“The ravens said that both of you stole something from the Cauldron. What did you take, Y/n?” Feyre asked.

“I don’t know. All I know is when I went under, I was full of rage and hatred and I wanted to destroy the Cauldron. Other than that, I don’t remember”.

Then, they went back to discussing the meeting with the High Lord and who had agreed to come and possible outcomes of the meetings.

“The queen might come” Elain said. They all wondered who she was talking about and she clarified it’s the one with feathers of flames. Everyone was confused except for Azriel, who came to the conclusion that Elain was a seer. They started asking Elain questions about this queen and then debated about going to find out more about her and maybe bring back an army when Lucien volunteered to go.

“I need a bath” Y/n sighed before standing up again and heading towards the stairs. Azriel rushed to help her, but she held out her arm, gesturing she could walk alone.

—

“I need to send this letter out” Y/n entered the living room, where the inner circle except for Feyre and Mor were sitting.

“Alright, Az will take you. I have some things to discuss with Amren” Rhys said. Azriel stood from his place and nodded in agreement.

“Where’s Feyre?” she questioned.

“Out with Mor. She’s showing her something”.

Y/n strode towards the door and Azriel followed behind.

“Don’t be late” Cassian quipped and Y/n lifted her hand up, showing him the middle finger before leaving.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me” Azriel said.

“I suppose it’s alright. It was either you or the General and I’d take you any day over him”.

Azriel snorted “what’s the deal between you two?”.

“He’s a giant prick who loves annoying people”.

Azriel winnowed them out to the dispatch center and waited outside when Y/n hesitantly walked in. She had finally decided to send that letter to her father. She informed him of the war that is to come, of how she and her sister were transformed against their wills and that she now lives with Feyre. But she also lied, telling him she’s happy where she is and that he shouldn’t worry about her. That she’ll come visit him once the war is over.

“Is everything alright?” Azriel asked when she finally came out, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“Yes, it’s fine. Let’s just go”. With that he wrapped them in the shadows and winnowed out.

“Where are we?” Y/n noticed her surroundings were not something she was familiar with.

“We’re on a mountain”.

“No shit, that I figured”.

“I come here sometimes, when I’m feeling low” he confessed.

“Who says I’m feeling low?”.

“I’m not blind” he gave her a knowing look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to say I can see right through your lie “you’ve been like this ever since this morning, especially after delivering that letter”.

“And what am I supposed to do here?” she crossed her arms.

“Take a break. Away from everyone. You can see Velaris from here. It brings me peace whenever I come here. I thought it could do that to you too”.

“I appreciate the thought, but peace is not something I will experience any time soon”.

“Then just take a break for a moment to breathe, unless you prefer going back and enduring Cassian” he joked.

“Fine…so what am I supposed to do exactly? Look down at the city and enjoy the view?”.

“If you want. Whatever makes you feel better” he sat on a rock, his arms crossed.

Y/n stepped towards the edge and looked over for a few minutes before speaking “it’s hard to do anything when you’re sitting behind me watching like a hawk”.

“Would you prefer it if I left? I can give you however much time you need and then come back to get you” he offered.

“No. Just- if you’re going to show me a city, show it to me at night or dawn. Everything looks more enchanting at these times”.

“Duly noted”.

“We can leave now, I feel a bit better”.

—

Y/n was knitting in the living room, a new hobby she’s picked up, when Amren walked in, informing everyone that Hybern had attacked the Summer Court. The inner circle were discussing strategies and exchanging information about what to do next, when Rhys decided they were going to aid the Summer Court.

Azriel and Cassian were preparing for war, checking their blades and tapping the siphons atop their hand, spreading their scaled armor across their body. Their expressions cold and devoid of emotions. Although Y/n had seen him- them in their full armor before, she never witnessed them preparing for a fight or a war. The sight of them made her heart skip a beat. Was that worry she felt? She did not know. She stood from her place to say something, but they were gone before she could. Nesta questioned if Mor and Feyre were going to fight and Feyre informed her that they would if needed.

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ironstrange1991 · 1 day

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Forbidden (Part 8): I'm Yours

+18 Smut

Pairing: Doctor Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: When Y/n attends a doctor's appointment she ends up discovering something about Stephen's past. At night, desire and reason wage a battle that both she and Stephen cannot fight against.

Word Count: 11,3k

Warnings: SMUT: Fingering, oral sex with male and female receiving, cum eating.

A/N: This one is very long but I had a very nice time writing it. I really hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;) - Also I was very tired while editing this one so any typos os grammar mistakes will be fixed later.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Stephen had no idea what he was doing. He didn't know how to cook. He barely knew how to make coffee and tea, but he needed to have something ready to offer you when you woke up. So he got up and went straight to the kitchen to try his luck preparing breakfast. However, his attempt was frustrated when the eggs began to stick to the bottom of the pan and the bacon, forgotten in the fire, turned to charcoal.

"Shit" He cursed, turning off the heat and using the napkin to try to remove any evidence of smoke from the kitchen. "Okay, plan B." He said throwing the napkin on the stove and resorting to the sling ring in the pocket of his pants. He was about to open a portal when he heard Wong and America's voices approaching.

"What's that smell?" America said as they entered the kitchen. She looked from Stephen to the stove and back to him. "Were you trying to cook?"

He sighed, returning the sling ring to his pocket.

"How many times have I told you to stay out of my kitchen, Strange?" Wong scolded, taking a good look around and then pointed to the frying pan. "Was that supposed to be bacon?"

"It's my kitchen. I'm the master of this Sanctum and yes, it was supposed to be bacon, but I forgot it in the fire because I was trying to cook the eggs..."

America sat at the table and looked at him for a second. "This is so weird. Why are you acting so weird? And since when do you try to cook?"

Wong moved his fingers and immediately the remnants of Stephen's attempt to make breakfast disappeared. The smell also disappeared. "What does she eat?"

"Wait, who?" America asked and then smiled openly. “Does Y/n here?”

"He wouldn't try to make breakfast for himself." Wong confirmed. “He would rather starve.”

Stephen rested his hands on his hips, running his tongue around the corner of his mouth. "It's not what you’re thinking."

America grimaced. "Oh, gross."

"It's nothing like that. I picked her up at a party and we talked and it got late. That's all."

Wong smirked, clearly unconvinced. Somehow he had already started making a batter that Stephen thought was pancakes. The eggs were already scrambled and ready to go in the frying pan and the bacon slices were already arranged in the other frying pan. Of course he used magic to cook, but Stephen didn't even know how to do that. He never understood the cooking spells books.

"I have no idea what she eats..." He admitted.

"I'm sure she'll be satisfied. She doesn't seem very demanding..." Wong said without a trace of humor.

Stephen frowned at the comment, but decided not to say anything. Instead he turned to America.

"How are things at Kamar Taj? Have you learned anything special that you want to show me?"

"Boring." The girl replied, "But my portals are more stable, and Wong let me read the astral projection books."

Stephen nodded turning to face Wong. "Is she ready for this yet?"

"No, but she's impatient and stubborn, much like someone I know." Wong responded. He was finishing preparing the eggs and bacon and starting to fry the pancakes.

The corners of Stephen's lips turned up in a discreet smile. "I'm sure she can handle it, then."

America smiled proudly.

...

When you opened your eyes, you had to make an effort to understand where you were, but little by little the memories of last night came back to you and you felt your heart racing in your chest. Your hand felt the mattress next to you, finding only empty space where Stephen once was and you understood that you were alone in the room.

You smiled to yourself while a movie played in your head and without thinking about what you were doing, you hugged his pillow and brought it to your nose, breathing in his delicious smell into your lungs. It was fresh, like some kind of herb scent you couldn’t identify. You decided you loved that smell.

Everything was so surreal, but at the same time it felt so right. Every kiss, every touch, and that orgasm... Even though you felt blushing, you didn't feel like you had done anything wrong, quite the opposite. And you wanted more. So much more. You wanted to experience everything with him, give yourself completely to him. Somehow you felt like everything made sense now. You never found anyone to lose your virginity to because in reality it was always Stephen.

It took a few minutes for you to finally get up and you were leaving the bathroom, dressed in your dress and boots when Stephen entered the room.

"Hey, good morning." He said, approaching you and kissing you softly as if you had already done that a million times.

"Good morning" You said into his lips. "I used your toothbrush again."

Stephen smirked "Hmm, I can get used to this."

"Hmm, you're so responsive." He whispered in your ear and then stepped away smirking, pleased to see you falling apart for him.

"Maybe you should." You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him properly now and his tongue tasted like coffee and toothpaste.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and broke the kiss only to tuck his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. Not satisfied, he rubbed his goatee on your skin and finished with a little bite on your earlobe, making your entire body tremble. He was such a tease, you thought.

"Breakfast is ready." He informed casually. "Wong and America are back. They're waiting for us downstairs."

You needed a minute to recover from the state he left you in so you could finally think straight.

"Stephen... I don't know if it's a good idea. Wong..."

"He made you breakfast. He has his reservations because of the age difference, but he's on our side, sweetheart. Both are."

You seemed to think for a second.

"Or I can take you home now, like I promised." He offered but you could see the disappointment in his expressions. You shook your head taking his hand in yours.

"No, it's okay. I'm starving and I'm not looking forward to leave you, anyway."

"Me neither." He confessed kissing you. “I feel like a teenager. Don’t want to let you go.”

You smiled feeling your heart flutter in your chest. You were understanding little by little that that feeling would be an usual thing from now on.

You couldn't say that you ever imagined sitting at the table having breakfast with Wong knowing that he knew you and Stephen were together. It was kind of a dream come true, but at the same time it was scary too. Wong was scaring. He didn't hide the way he looked at you and Stephen. America also didn't make a point of hiding the smile on her face and you began to realize that both of them had joined the dots and reached the very obvious conclusion that you were Stephen had slept together. Well, you had slept together, but the term usually implied that you had had sex, but you hadn't. Not exactly. Well, everything was a bit confusing at the moment.

"America told me you have a show scheduled for tonight." Stephen said, breaking the silence that was starting to get awkward. "You hadn't told me anything."

In fact, you had completely forgotten. Ever since Stephen took you to the Sanctum, everything outside seemed to have ceased to exist.

"I forgot to mention. I actually have a rehearsal this afternoon. It's a big avenue, I'm excited to see how it goes."

Stephen smiled reassuringly at you, clearly noticing the nervousness in your voice. “I’m sure you’re going to be great.”

"Thank you.” You smiled “You guys should come. I'd love to have some familiar faces in the audience." You added.

"I would love to..." Stephen started to say, but was quickly cut off by Wong.

"But he will have to decline because we have work to do."

"Come on Wong, it's Sunday." America complained. "Stephen just got back."

"And that's why he has a lot to do." Wong completed and then returned to you "You'll see that dating a master of the mystical arts is not as advantageous as you think, Miss Y/l/n. Especially one his age."

You could notice a slight blush on Stephen's cheeks, that’s why you were firm in your answer. "I am very grateful for everything you guys do to protect us, Wong, and I am prepared for the challenges that await me."

Stephen smirked, but soon turned his attention to America who was whispering about the possibility of going to the show.

Wong pretended not to notice and turned to you again "What about your family? I don't believe Stark will be satisfied with this new arrangement."

"It's not an arrangement, it's a relationship, Wong" Stephen corrected.

"We agreed that we'll wait to tell Tony. It's still too early, but I'm sure he'll understand." You said trying to sound confident, but deep down you were terrified with the idea.

Wong didn't say anything else and you had the strange feeling of being in an interview, as if Wong wanted to know if you were good enough or weren't going to cause problems for Stephen. The situation was awkward, but the idea of Wong caring about Stephen was pleasant, after all you knew Stephen had no family besides Wong and America.

...

“Have a nice show” Stephen said as you walked through the portal to your room.

"You are not going?" The disappointment in your voice was palpable which made him smile.

"I promise I'll try." He said threatening to close the portal.

"Stephen..."

He waited for what you had to say, but you actually didn't have anything specific to say, you just wanted to spend a few more seconds in his presence.

"I really loved last night." You confessed, feeling your cheeks blush.

He smirked seeming visibly relieved.

"I know you're insecure about what we did, but I enjoyed having that moment with you and... I really want to have more of that, of everything."

He nodded and his smile widened into a cute sideways smile.

"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."

"Bye then. Hope to see you tomorrow."

"You will. One way or another."

...

The days that followed were a torment. You were on fire inside, but you needed to pretend everything was normal. You needed to contain all that euphoria and act as if nothing was happening and of course you were failing miserably.

Your life was changing for the better. College was going very well, your band, that you always saw as something condemned to failure, was having success and recognition that you never dreamed it would have, your show on the biggest avenue you've ever played was a real hit - it could have been better if Stephen had been there to see you, but unfortunately it wasn't possible as he explained - and most important of all, you and Stephen were together and even though everything had to be hidden, you were more than happy about it. It was a dream come true.

It was a Wednesday morning and you were having breakfast with Nat, Tony - who had returned from the mission the day before - and Pepper. You were late for college, but you had decided it wouldn't hurt to miss the first class of the morning since you were way ahead of your class anyway. You hadn't been able to see Stephen since Sunday night and although you spoke every day on the phone you missed him deeply. You thought about making up some excuse to go to the Sanctum, but it seemed he would be too busy and couldn't pay attention to you even if you did.

You sighed, feeling bored and just pretending to participate in the conversation and your cell phone started to buzz with messages that didn't stop arriving. You knew it was Stephen. He always texted you at that time to say good morning and wish you a good class. It was cute actually, but you didn't want to answer because you knew you would look silly reading his texts, blushing like a teenage girl, and you didn't want Tony to ask questions, but the texts kept coming and at first Tony pretended not to care by putting a lot of effort into reading his newspaper, but when the buzzing continued he placed the newspaper on the table and stared you.

"If you don't read these texts I'm going to make Friday hack your cell phone and read them to us." He threatened.

You took your phone and read the texts feeling your cheeks blush and of course Pepper noticed because she were very observant, but she made a point of starting a new topic to distract Tony for which you were glad.

"The record company called to schedule a new meeting with Y/n. Apparently the success of Sunday's concert caught their attention."

"The fact that her songs are playing on the radio non-stop seems like a good reason too." Tony added.

"Those fuckers were extremely disrespectful last time. I don't see any point in giving them a second chance when you're doing so well on your own." Nat addressed you, but you weren't really paying attention to them, your mind was still on those texts.

"Y/n... are you listening to what we're saying?" Tony pressed.

You put your phone back in your pants pocket without answering and shrugged, "I like the idea of being independent. I've never really wanted a record company, not like this. We all know they're only interested in having the Stark name under their wing."

Tony sighed "You might be right." He pointed to your pocket "Who was it?"

"America" You lied through your teeth.

"What does she want?" He asked and Pepper gave you a disapproving glare that said she wasn't buying that lie.

"She's still struggling with her philosophy classes. Maybe I'll stop by the Sanctum tomorrow to help her." You said taking the opportunity to come up with a excuse to go there.

"It's a great idea. Just be careful not to end up disturbing the wizards. You know, protectors of reality bla bla bla." Tony teased.

"Stephen and Wong will probably be at the Kamar Taj." You ran to explain.

"Excellent." He said, wiping his lips on his napkin and standing up. "Anyway, I trust your good judgment about the band and everything else. It's been working out really well so far." He said, bending down to place a small kiss on the top of your head like he always did since you were a child. You smiled at him sheepishly, feeling bad for hiding something so important from him.

"What are the plans for today?" Pepper asked getting up too.

"Work in the workshop if I'm lucky. You?"

"Company shareholders meeting."

He made a funny face "I'm glad I'm not you."

You watched the two walk away with a smile on your face. Tony and Pepper were perfect for each other and they gave you a sense of family and belonging that you never imagined you would feel again after your parents died.

Your cell phone buzzed again, and you knew it was Stephen asking for an answer.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or am I going to have to threaten you too?" Nat asked looking visibly bored. Apparently life as a convalescent Avenger wasn't all that exciting and since Bruce had a lot of work he couldn't give her the attention she craved.

GOOD MORNING, LOVE. I HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL AND HAVE A GREAT DAY.

You took your cell phone and decided to show her the texts. It was time for you to tell someone and the options were her and MJ, but MJ was in Boston.

You stayed silent watching her reading the words you knew by heart.

I SCHEDULED AN APPOINTMENT FOR YOU WITH DR PALMER AFTER OUR CONVERSATION YESTERDAY. SHE ATTENDS AT METRO GENERAL HOSPITAL. IT WILL BE THIS AFTERNOON. I KNOW YOU ARE FREE BECAUSE YOU TOLD ME.

PLEASE GO AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT TONIGHT IF YOU WANT.

I MISS YOU, SWEETHEART. TALKING ON THE PHONE IS NOT ENOUGH AND I CAN'T GET THE MEMORIES OF SATURDAY NIGHT OUT OF MY HEAD.

SO, WHAT DO YOU TELL ME? ARE YOU GOING?

It took Nat less than a minute to google who Dr. Palmer was and the look on her face showed that she had gotten it all wrong.

"You two aren't that stupid!" She said sharply and you felt offended that she could make assumptions about you like that.

"It's not what you are thinking." You defended yourself and took the cell phone out of her hand. "It's actually the opposite of that."

Nat waited for you to explain, and you glanced around the empty dining room.

"Nat, I'm virgin. I swear I thought you knew that, after all you are a Russian spy."

She raised an eyebrow. "I always knew that, but according to these texts you no longer are."

You smiled to yourself remembering the night you had with Stephen and decided that nothing in the world would make you tell that to Nat. "We had a moment together, it was good, but we didn't get to do anything. Not yet. He's decided to take it slow and respect my own time."

Nat nodded in agreement, looking offensively impressed.

"But the truth is, I don't want to wait another minute to do it. I really love him, Nat. It has to be him. It couldn't be anyone else."

"Look, I confess that Strange has surprised me positively. And I think it should happen, it's been a long time coming."

"Nat!"

"I'm just trying to say that I think he's sensible. As sensible as possible since he's picking this fight with Stark."

You bit the corner of your cheek trying to decide whether or not it was better to stop that conversation, but ended up not resisting. "But you're on our side, right? Stephen thinks that when we tell him, the Avengers will be against him. It's important to have at least one Avenger on our side. Someone who truly understands."

Nat sighed heavily, probably realizing the trouble she'd gotten herself into, but finally she smiled reassuringly. "I'm by your side."

...

You hated hospitals. Your nails continued to dig holes into your palms as you headed to the elevator of the huge, luxurious building to get to the obstetrics and gynecology floor, but it wasn't just the fact that hospitals made you feel sick that was making you anxious. In fact, you did yourself the bad favor of searching for Dr Palmer online during boring morning classes and found some photos of her and Stephen together at some events. You knew very well that Stephen worked at that hospital for years before his accident and that it was normal for him to have photos with his coworkers, but your anxious mind kept telling you that there was a compromising intimacy in those photos you saw.

You got out of the elevator in a kind of daze and observed the waiting room, which at that time was completely empty.

“Miss Y/l/n, right?” The secretary asked as you approached the counter. You smiled and nodded. You had been used to being recognized in places for a long time. It was the price you paid for being Iron Man's goddaughter.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Palmer."

"I need your ID for registration and we will need a photo for your record. Can you look at the camera, please?"

You did what the woman asked almost automatically, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

You waited for what seemed like an eternity as the woman typed.

"Ready." She informed you and you handed her the credit card, but instead of taking it she just smiled. "It says here that the appointment has already been paid for. Your ID. Just wait a minute. She'll call you."

You rolled your lips together "Is it okay if I ask who paid for the appointment?"

She looked at the monitor looking equally curious. "Let's see... It says Dr. Strange. Oh, he used to work here, you know? I came to talk to him a few times. Brilliant doctor. Of course, now that he's a superhero he doesn't come to the hospital anymore."

"I'm sure the fact that he can't practice medicine anymore is the real reason." You answered.

"Ah of course. A tragedy!"

You just nodded with a polite smile and walked away, sitting in one of the many empty armchairs drumming your fingers on the arms of it and letting your mind do what it did best. Stephen was a neurosurgeon, what reason did he had to come to the gynecology floor often enough for the secretary to remember him? What if they were more than work friends? What if they still kept in touch? Stephen just said that she was a friend, but didn't give any more details, however he felt free to pay for your appointment with his own card. What if he had told her everything about you?

“Miss Y/l/n?” A velvety voice called, and you faced the doctor in all her glory dressed in a ridiculous pink coat, but it didn't make her any less beautiful for that. "Come in, please."

You entered the huge office that had plaques and awards with her name on shelves as if they were trophies.

"Before we begin, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Dr. Christine Palmer."

You smiled politely "Y/n Y/l/n."

"Tony Stark's daughter." She said with a kind of reverence in her voice.

"Goddaughter, actually. But I don't think there's much of a difference." You corrected it.

She smiles, showing annoyingly perfect teeth. "Stephen told me about you. He called me personally to ask for the appointment, given his insistence should I assume something is wrong, miss Y/l/n?"

"Please, call me Y/n." You said feeling yourself blush. You had no idea how to start and the fact that this woman knew Stephen didn't help matters."

"I saw some pictures of you and Doctor Strange, are you friends?" You asked, scaping from the initial and most important question.

She seemed slightly confused by the question, but replied simply "Stephen and I are work friends, well we were work friends. I hadn't seen him in ages, in fact I was surprised when he called me."

You agreed "There's nothing wrong. I actually need a method of contraception." You exhaled slowly and finished speaking at once, "I'm a virgin and I intend to stop being so."

She nodded, keeping her expression professional, but you knew her head was working on the connection between what you just said and the fact that Stephen was so insistent that the appointment be as quick as possible, in addition to the fact that he paid for the appointment. For you, at least, the truth was almost obscene.

"I see. Well, there is a huge variety of methods. Pills are the most common, but I personally really like Implants.

"What is the most effective method?" You asked apprehensively.

She smiled, seeming to notice your hesitation and continued. "The pill requires an almost religious commitment. It must be taken every day at the same time and cannot be forgotten. For this reason, I usually recommend the implant. Furthermore, it is one of the methods that least affects your libido and since you just explained that you want to start your sex life now, I imagine this is an important aspect for choosing."

You nodded feeling like your face was on fire and she continued to pretend not to notice.

"It lasts for 3 years and can be reapplied after that and as there is no danger of forgetting like the pill, its effectiveness is usually 99.9%"

"Does it hurt?"

"It's a simple procedure and we use local anesthesia. It can be done today if you prefer."

You swallow thickly. "After I put it on, how long will it take before I can..." You let the words trail off in the air.

"It depends on when your last period was, but in general it is preferable to wait 10 to 15 days to be sure. Remembering that this does not mean that you cannot have sex before this period, but you need to use condoms."

You nodded. "Does it have side effects?"

"It is common for women to stop menstruating when using it, but it is also common to have breakthrough bleeding. In general, menstruation will be very irregular until your body gets used to it. The good news is that it tends to greatly reduce the effects of PMS."

You nodded. "Can we put it on now?"

"Sure." She said, getting up and going to one of the huge closets in the office.

When returning home in the taxi you could feel your arm slightly numb due to the anesthesia and the small bandage, as small as it was, was quite visible and you were going crazy thinking about what to say in case someone noticed.

Luckily when you entered the tower you didn't bump into anyone on the way to your room and after closing the door you threw yourself on the bed and called MJ, after all you owed her an update and there was indeed a lot to tell.

...

Stephen checked his cell phone every five minutes waiting for news, but every time he was disappointed. To make matters worse for him, the day was being particularly slow and he would rather be dealing with some interdimensional beast than facing that anxiety alone. He was particularly worried about the fact that he hadn't explained to Y/n that he and Christine had an affair years ago and being as smart as she was it was clear to him that it wouldn't take long for her to find out. That's if she hadn't already discovered it. God, he looked like a teenager experiencing his first love. What was Y/n doing to him?

He was in the Kamar Taj library doing the worst, most boring job in the world when America came running in looking for him.

"You won't believe what I almost managed to do!" The enthusiasm in her voice made him bite back a snarky comment.

"I hope it's better than spending the whole afternoon cataloging books."

"So much better. I almost managed to conjure the mirrored dimension. I could even hear and see the glass breaking, but I couldn't maintain focus for long enough. Master Hamir said it's normal and that I have to keep trying."

"And he's right." Stephen said, putting the last book on the shelf and closing the ledger. He placed it in the librarian's desk drawer and checked his cell phone again. Nothing.

"Something wrong?" America asked and he shook his head.

"I hope not. Come here, I'm proud of you, kid."

America walked over and he wrapped his arms around her. It was a strange sensation. Letting someone get close to him like that after so long running away from any relationship with another person, however since America arrived, she started to soften his heart and Y/n was doing much more than that.

"Uh Stephen... you can let me go now."

"Oh ok." He said a little sheepishly and released the grip of his arms around her. America stepped away looking at the Sorcerer Supreme's book collection.

"Oh they are so mysterious. I would die to read one of those." She exclaimed!

"You wouldn't read them if you were dead."

She looked at him rolling her eyes "Have you read them yet?"

"Sometimes."

"So, I don't need to be a Sorcerer Supreme to be able to read them?"

"No. You just need to be smarter than I was when I read them and not cause problems."

She smiles "I think I can do that."

Stephen was ready to tell her it was easier said than done when they heard footsteps approaching in the hallway.

"Strange, are you done working here?" Wong asked, looking at them with a look that clearly said 'shouldn't you be doing something useful?'".

"Yep. By the way I'm heading back to Sanctum to check if everything's okay. Are you coming with me?" He asked America to which she grimaced.

"I still have one more class."

He nodded, taking his sling ring from his pocket and opening a portal home.

"See you tomorrow then."

...

It was past 10pm and you and Stephen were texting like two teenagers and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound of your giggles as you read each of his texts. He was so silly and cute and dirty and funny and so many other things that you had no way of knowing before you actually got to know him. Yes, he was a powerful sorcerer and a famous superhero, but when he talked to you, he was just Stephen and you felt yourself falling more and more in love with him with each passing minute.

I WANTED YOU WERE HERE

You suddenly confessed to which he texted back immediately.

YOU KNOW I CAN FIX THAT, RIGHT?

You bit your bottom lip, sitting up in bed immediately. Were he serious?

WOULDN'T IT BE VERY INAPPROPRIATE?

He answered with an emoji smiling sideways exactly like he used to do and just thinking about that smile made you simply abandon your reason. You got up and locked the door and took a look in the mirror. You were reasonably presentable. Fresh from the shower, comfortable lingerie covered by an old tee, hair tied in a messy bun. You smile at your image in the mirror and throw yourself on the bed, picking up your cell phone and answering.

I’M WAITING.

It didn't take a full minute before you heard the familiar hiss of the portal and Stephen walked past it with a smirk on his lips. He was dressed in sweatpants and a tee and his hair was wet and the smell of cologne made it possible to tell that he had also just gotten out of the shower.

"We can't make any noise. Tony and Pepper's room is next door." You whispered.

His smirk widened into a cocky grin. "I can fix that too." He whispered back.

"Yeah? How?"

He moved his hands in a complicated gesture and the walls were enveloped by a kind of ring of golden light that soon dissipated completely.

"Totally soundproof." He informed proudly. “Very useful spell.”

"That was sexy." You smiled, getting up and going to him. Stephen wrapped you in his arms containing your sudden advance and held your face gently directing you to his lips and kissed you slowly, but devilishly good and you felt your knees getting weak.

"I've missed you all day." He confessed as he finally allowed his lips to part to breathe. "I don't care how this sounds, Y/n, but I really don't know how I managed to spend so much time loving you from afar. I don't want to be away from you anymore. Never."

You didn't have time to formulate an answer because he pulled you to his lips again and this time he tightened his grip around your body and you could feel every muscle beneath the thin fabric of the t-shirt and the inviting heat coming from his skin.

"I've missed you all day too." You confessed, holding his hand and pulling him to your bed. You sat crisscrossed against the headboard and he sat facing you, but he stole one of your pillows and lay down next to you with the same naturalness as someone who always did that.

"But you kept me waiting for a text all day." He complained.

"Because I was a little mad at you and I didn't know what to say."

He sighed, "I knew I should have talked about Christine with you, but Sweetheart it was years ago, I swear I didn't think it was important enough to mention."

You ran your tongue along the corner of your cheek. "I knew there was something in those photos. MJ kept telling me I was being paranoid, but I'm never wrong."

Stephen buried his face in the pillow groaning, "That wasn't what you were mad about, was it?"

"No, but thanks for adding another reason."

He looked at you trying to be serious, but there was an arrogant smile on his lips. "I've always wanted to know what you're like when you're jealous."

"I am not jealous!" You defended yourself taking one of the pillows that were next to you and throwing at him. "I just think you have no idea how uncomfortable it was for me to be there talking to your ex about losing my virginity and choosing contraceptive methods when you made a point of making everything so obvious by insisting that the appointment was scheduled as soon as possible and the worst part, you paid for it."

"It was the very least I could do. You went there because of me." He defended himself.

"That’s not true. I went there because of me and Stephen, don't make me talk about a topic I don't feel comfortable talking about."

He said nothing, instead he continued looking at you waiting for you to speak.

"I don't need you to pay me anything. I'm Tony Stark's goddaughter!"

He rolled his eyes. "It's not about the money..."

He stopped and took a deep breath and then began to explain himself. "Y/n, you're half my age, less than that. You're a virgin, which scared me a little, I confess, but it also makes me feel protective towards you. I wanted you to have the best doctor in the city, probably in the country and I was anxious for us to resolve this as soon as possible and I didn't stop to think for a second about my past with Christine because it didn't mean anything to me. She was a friend I had sex with at work, that's all."

You opened your mouth to interrupt him several times, but ended up giving in. Deep down you knew you were being dramatic.

"She is very beautiful." You said with a pout.

"No more than you." He responded, opening his arms so you could cuddle into his chest. You lid down letting yourself be hugged as you became aware that Stephen was really in your room at that time of night. It was wrong somehow, even though you were an adult, the secret made everything feel so dirty, but you couldn't deny to yourself that you were enjoying the feeling.

You held Stephen's face in your hands and kissed him hard like you wanted from the moment he arrived and he let out a soft moan on your lips that made your heart jump in your chest.

"Now tell me about the appointment." He asked when you finally broke the kiss.

You told all the details of the most awkward medical appointment of your life and each time you brought new information you felt your face getting hotter.

"It's just a little sore now." You said as he ran his index finger lightly over the band aid you placed on your forearm.

"Well, I also have something to show you." He said moving the fingers of one hand and conjuring a sealed envelope. He handed it to you with a somewhat shy smile that was unusual for him, but equally beautiful.

"What is this?" You asked curiously.

"Open it."

You opened it and only after finding his name in the top right corner of the sheet did you understood.

The laboratory exam had a list of tests that were carried out to detect herpes, syphilis, hepatitis, HIV, among others and at the end of the sheet there was a single line that said: negative for the pathologies tested.

He waited silently for some kind of response, but all you could think was that you didn't need that. His words were enough for you.

"When did you take these tests?"

"Yesterday."

You handed the sheet back to him and kissed him softly "I believed you when you said you haven't had anyone in the last six months. You didn't need to..."

"But I wanted to. It's important to me that you know I'm clean. It's the least I could do since you..."

You waited for him to finish, but he just smiled.

“Since I…” You pressed.

"Since you're giving yourself to me."

You smirked at his choice of words.

"Is that what I'm doing?"

He held your chin steady and bit your bottom lip to tease you.

"You know very well what you are doing, young lady, and you know very well how much I am looking forward to it."

You nodded, but pouted "Your ex said we should wait at least 10 days..."

He rolled his eyes, "Don't call her that. It's not fair."

You let out a soft giggle "Fair enough, but it doesn't change what she said."

He kissed you softly and ran his index finger down your neck, down to your breast and circled your nipple until it got hard under your shirt.

"I’m a patient man." He said in the most anti-climax statement you could imagine.

"Well, but I’m not a patient woman. I'm so tired of waiting, Stephen. I've already waited too long." You grumbled, crossing your arms like a child indignant at being denied their favorite toy.

"For someone who have waited until now, you are very impatient indeed." He teased.

"For someone who hasn't had sex in six months, you're really slow." You replied to which he let out a small laugh, but then he held your face in his hands and kissed you hard with tongue, teeth and a newfound passion that literally took your breath away.

"Just because I was trying to play nice, but now I think you've changed my mind. Now I’m going to take advantage of your inexperience. What do you say, sweetheart?"

You bit your lower lip, feeling your cheeks heat up, but you didn't let yourself be intimidated by your shyness. "Yes."

Stephen's eyes darkened with desire and a sly smile played on his lips. "Yeah? You don't even know what I have in mind and you're already saying yes."

You nodded "I trust you."

"But you shouldn't." He kissed you and pushed you onto your back and came on top of you, spreading your legs with his knees and fitting himself between them. He made a point of rubbing his hips against your core, making you feel his half-hard cock contained inside his pants. Unable to control yourself you let out a small moan and he chuckled in your ear making your skin prickle.

"You have no idea how much I want to make love to you finally. I've already waited too long..."

He kissed you again and ground himself against you without any shame and this time you didn't even try to contain your moan as your body responded to the stimulation with a wave of pleasure.

“Stephen…” You mumbled almost incoherently.

"Yes, sweetie. Tell me what you want."

"Touch me. I need you to touch me. I always imagined what it would be like to have your hands on me, your fingers..."

He smirked taking his hands under your t-shirt and grabbing your panties.

"You’re sure?" He confirmed and you nodded, raising your hips for him to take off your panties and your whole body shivered with the night air when he did so.

He lifted your t-shirt to waist level and finally allowed himself to look at your naked body, his hands slid up your legs and before you could understand what he was doing he started placing little kisses on the inside of your thighs and the brush of his goatee against your skin made your entire body prickle.

"Your skin is so soft and smells so good." He praised, moving his lips in small wet kisses down your crotch and getting more and more dangerously close to where you really wanted him. "I imagined myself doing this so many times..."

"Stephen...please." You wonder if you knew what you were begging for. You just knew you didn't want him to stop, you just wanted much more."

But he stopped, at least long enough to give you a smug look and put his middle finger to his mouth. He sucked his own finger and then took it between your legs, opened your folds with his other fingers and touched your clit lightly, but enough to make your entire body tremble with the sensation. He slid his finger up and down between your folds with absurd ease and you realized that you were shamefully wet and of course he noticed that too.

"Fuck sweetheart, is this all because of me?" He teased, moving his finger in circles on your clit and making your hips buck against his hand. "So sensitive. I've barely touched you yet."

You bit your lip trying to hold back a moan, but it escaped your lips anyway.

"It's okay, I like listening to you, love." He cooed encouraging you. "I'm going to try something else and you're going to tell me how you feel about it, okay?"

You nodded watching him dive between your legs. He licked you from bottom to top and then used his fingers to spread your folds and then licked again directly on your clit this time and you moaned outrageously loud. No words were necessary.

He hummed pleased with your reaction and gave it a long lick again and then began to flick the tip of his tongue on your clit sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. The touch of his beard on your sensitive skin increased all the sensations even more.

"Fuck Stephen... oh my..." You stopped biting your lip and grabbing his hair with one of your hands without realizing what you were doing, but he didn't seem to mind.

You always heard about how good oral sex was, but you never imagined it felt this good and at the same time you were a mess of sensations and feelings because you had never been touched by a man before and not just any man was doing, it was Stephen, your Stephen and the realization of that brought you surprisingly close to cumming and you found yourself desperate to warn him because... wouldn't it be rude if you came in his face?

"Stephen, I think I'm gonna..."

But he stopped immediately upon hearing those words and emerged to look at you with the most beautiful and naughty smile in the world.

"You're very sensitive, sweetheart. I've barely started." He said, running a hand over his face.

"I didn't want to... in your face." You confessed and he smiled sweetly at you.

"Sweetheart, there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, I'd love it if you did."

"But isn't it gross?" You asked, still unsure, to which he shook his head. "I like it."

You felt yourself blushing "But you stopped."

He smirked "Just because I don't want it to end so quickly. Sex shouldn't be a quick thing, at least not most of the time, we should make it last and that means lessening the stimulation before finishing." He moved so he could kiss you and you found the taste on his tongue strange, but at the same time you found it sexy knowing that it was your taste. "We're just getting started." He whispered against your lips as he brought your index finger back to his lips, he sucked on it and then brought it between your legs and teased your entrance lightly.

"Tell me, when you touch yourself, do you only play with your clit or..." He forced your entrance slightly and you felt your muscles contracting involuntarily.

"You never used your fingers here?" He asked and you shook your head.

"Okay, but I can try a little, can't I? Or do you want me to stop?"

You held his face in your hands.

"Will it hurt?"

He kissed your lips gently, "Not if I do it slowly. And I won't go deep. You just said you trust me, remember?"

You nodded. "I do."

He smiled and you felt a small pressure at your entrance and you immediately squeezed your eyes closed waiting for the pain, but it didn't come, on the contrary you were washed by a wave of pleasure when he started to use his thumb on your clit as he slowly penetrated the middle finger on you.

"Shit." You cursed through your teeth and he chuckled in satisfaction.

"Good girl."

He started to move his finger in and out and the feeling was strange but good at the same time and the next thing you knew you were moving your hips against his hand seeking more friction. He understood immediately and began to put more pressure on his thumb, circling your clit slowly while fingering you.

"I'm going to put another finger, okay? Tell me if it hurts and I'll stop immediately."

You nodded without doubting his word for a moment. You knew Stephen would never hurt you on purpose.

He used his index finger to stretch you a little more and you felt the pressure again and an uncomfortable tug that soon disappeared giving way to pleasure.

"God, you have magical fingers." You heard yourself confessing.

"That's one way of putting it." He teased "But you haven't seen anything yet, sweetheart."

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan when he circled his thumb around your clit just the right way and your legs shook with the wave of pleasure that enveloped you.

"Then show me. I want you to teach me everything."

He smiled brightly and pulled you to his lips and kissed you hard, his tongue chased yours in a battle for dominance that you had no intention of winning and he hummed in your lips adorably.

"You're every man's dream, you know that?" He said as he finally allowed himself to break the kiss. "Beautiful, inexperienced and so willing to please. Somehow you make my heart beat faster in my chest and my dick throb in my pants with the same intensity at the same time."

You smiled proudly "Then take me. I'm yours. I always wanted to be yours and no one else's."

You entwined your fingers in his hair and pulled him to your lips again, but his lips didn't just stop at your mouth, they went down your neck where he placed little kisses and bites and then went up to your ear, brushing his goatee there and making your skin prickle again and you swallow thickly. You loved when he did that and he sure as hell knew that.

"Stephen... make love to me. I want it... tonight."

His fingers didn't stop stimulating you for a second, but you wanted more, you wanted to know how it would feel to have him inside you thrusting into you with the same passion you saw the actors in the movies doing, but he shook his head.

"We can't, love."

You shook your head trying to reason with him "We can. We just need to use..."

He interrupted you by kissing you and then explained "I know, but I don't want our first time to be with a condom. It's not the same."

"Oh" That's all you said, and he smiled seeming a little embarrassed "It doesn't change much for you, but for me... shit, now I'm being selfish..."

"It's okay." You reassured him cupping his face gently "I didn’t know. We can wait."

He sighed smiling "But that doesn't mean I can't give you what you need." With that he dived between your legs again and used his tongue on your clit again, but now he wasn't content with just licking, he started sucking as if he was nursing on your sensitive bud and while he did this his fingers continued playing at your entrance, moving in and out at a lazy pace and the combination of stimulation was enough to push you to the edge.

"Oh shit... oh Stephen... gonna cum."

He hummed satisfied and this time he didn't stop, on the contrary, he increased the intensity of the suction on your clit which made you scream in the middle of the orgasm that washed over you.

Your legs shook around his head, your nails dug into his scalp and your fingers pulled his hair and the most beautiful little scream in the world escaped your lips when you came in his mouth. He lapped up all your fluids like a thirsty man and then emerged from the paradise between your legs to look at you and the way you glanced at him made his heart jump in his chest.

Stephen couldn't remember the last time he had given oral sex to a woman. A sexist part of him thought it was too intimate to be done with any of the women he had slept with in recent years, but with you it was natural. It wasn't like he planned it. Stephen was coming to the conclusion that nothing with you happened as planned, you were too spontaneous for that and he was weak in his convictions when it came to you, but it didn't matter, he had loved it, every second between your legs, listening to your little moans were like a trip to paradise and he felt ecstatic.

He moved on top of you, careful not to release the weight of his body on you and cupped your face, pulling it to his lips.

"God I love you, sweetheart." He heard himself confessing. Stephen had never been so in love in his entire life and as such he never found himself confessing his feelings like that, but it was true. He loved you so much that somehow he knew he couldn't contain it inside him, he needed to pour that love into you again and again.

As if you could read his mind, you smiled the most beautiful smile in the world "I love you too." You whispered and your face turned red with the realization of what had just happened and he thought it was adorable. Yes, he had been surprised by the discovery of your virginity and yes, that had complicated things a little, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn't loving every minute of it. Your innocence and inexperience made everything more exciting.

"I love the way you blush." He confessed, kissing your lips lightly and then rolled to the side, resting his head on his pillows.

"That's good because I can't control this. It's all so embarrassing, will this become normal for me one day?"

He couldn't help but laugh at your comment.

"Do not laugh at me." You protested, covering your face with your hands, but Stephen held them and replied, "I'm not laughing at you and the answer is yes. It'll become normal."

You turned to snuggle into him and he wrapped his arm around you, letting you lay your head on his shoulder as he intertwined your leg with his.

"Do you remember your first time?" You asked as your fingers traced his goatee absently minded.

Oh yes, he remembered it perfectly and never stopped feeling embarrassed by it.

"Tragically yes." He replied.

"That bad?" You asked curiously.

"I had no idea what I was doing, and it must have lasted three minutes."

Now it was your turn to laugh, but he didn't care, he had already overcome the trauma.

"I was always afraid of doing it with someone my age and ending up in an awkward situation where we both wouldn't know what to do." You confessed, still stroking his beard and Stephen noticed how much he liked feeling the touch of your hands on him.

"I think it's very difficult for a guy your age to still be a virgin, sweetheart. The risk was practically zero."

"But they wouldn't be like you." You insisted and your face flushed again "You're very experienced and although I don't like thinking about you with other women, I like the fact that you know what you're doing, it makes me feel safer."

He nodded. What impressed Stephen, besides the fact that you were a virgin at age 21, was that you had almost no sexual experience besides watching porn and touching yourself.

"You made me feel very safe while you were..."

"Going down on you" He finished for you and you nodded.

"I didn't imagine it would be so good. I mean, I've read about it, I've seen it in the movies, but nothing prepared me for reality."

Stephen smiled broadly. "I'm not going to be modest about it and say it's always like this. Most men have a hard time satisfying a woman this way."

"But not you." You said and pulled him to your lips and Stephen let himself be guided by the intensity of your kiss. So inexperienced, but kissed like a whore. He thought and quickly scolded himself.

You hummed adorably at his lips and then broke the kiss and said simply "I want to touch you now."

His cock pulsed in his pants at that, but he tried hard to reason with you.

"Are you sure? You know you don't have to do this just because I did it to you."

You nodded "I know. I want to. I want to see you the same way you saw me and pleasure you to hear you moaning too."

Stephen couldn't help but smile and comment, "You're going to have to be really good to make me moan, sweetheart. Do you think you can do that?"

You blushed heavily but were firm in your response "I learn fast, you just need to teach me how to do it."

Another twitch in his cock and this time it didn't go unnoticed by you. You lowered your hand that was resting on his chest and touched his dick through his pants.

"It's so... hard." You said

"Because of you. Your innocence leaves me like this." He confessed.

"I'm not innocent." You protested to which he chuckled.

"Maybe not in other things, but in this you are."

His cock started to throb again and you looked at him in surprise, but didn't say anything. It was as if you knew that asking anything would prove his point.

"Hard is good. It's exactly how you want me. And this..." His cock twitched again "It's also because of you, it shows how much I want you."

You were blushing, but a proud smile played on your lips.

He watched you move your hand lightly over his erection and then your fingers threatened to go inside his pants, but you stopped confirming "Can I?"

"Yes." He said and his voice sounded shaky with excitement. Stephen had fantasized about this so many times.

You put your hand inside his pants and seemed surprised to notice that he wasn't wearing any underwear. He never wore underwear when he got dressed to sleep, in fact when it was hot he even wore clothes to sleep. To his surprise, the brief moment of hesitation was replaced by the impulse to touch him, and you grabbed him in your hand and started moving up and down, probably imitating what you had seen in the movies. The sudden stimulation made a small moan escape his lips and you smiled victoriously.

"Brat" He said biting his lower lip and surrendering to your touch. "Wait, let me take this off, you need to see what you're doing."

You moved your hand away enough for him to free himself from his pants and then your eyes feasted on his thighs and finally settled on his cock.

"You can touch me however you want now." He said

You held it firmly in your hand and moved it up and down slowly and he had the feeling that that was pretty much all you knew how to do. The stimulation was delicious. For someone who had had no sexual stimulation other than his own hand for six months, any foreign touch was enough, but he wanted just so much more.

He moved his fingers quickly conjuring up a bottle of lube and explained "Here, sweetheart. You lube naturally, but I need this. Give me your hand."

You turned your palm upwards and waited for him to pour some of the clear gel. He was not modest in quantity. Stephen liked a lot of lubrication.

"Now you can do what you were doing, but it will feel much better."

You nodded, grabbing his cock again and slowly moving it up and down, letting the lube spread over his entire length making a delicious squelching sound.

"Make sure to touch the head when your hand goes up. Here..." He showed his frenulum to you "It's very sensitive, I like it when I'm touched here."

You nodded, completely concentrated on his explanation and started to raise your hand further to touch where he had shown you, a wrinkle of concentration formed between your eyebrows and Stephen found it adorable. His cock throbbed in your hand again and a loud moan escaped through his teeth.

"Shit, love. You’re a fast learner."

You smiled happily at the compliment "Can I use both hands? I saw it in a movie and the guy seemed to like it."

Stephen nodded. "Give me the other hand, let's get some more of this."

You did as he asked and then grabbed him with both hands stroking him nice but very lightly.

"You can use a little more force, sweetheart." He instructed and his voice sounded shaky.

"I don't want to hurt you. I know it’s very sensitive."

He smiled widely. You were so sweet, he was basking in your inexperience and there was no reason for him to hide how much he was enjoying the whole thing.

"Not that sensitive. You can squeeze a little more. I'll like it. Isn't that what you want? To make me feel good?"

"Yes." You said biting your bottom lip while tightening the grip of your hand around him and for a minute the only sound that could be heard was the wet squelching of your hands on his dick and the heavy breathing followed by moans that he couldn't control. .

"So fucking good... these little hands feel amazing, sweetheart."

You smile "Really?"

"So, so good. I've fantasized about this moment so many times..."

You bit your lip, looking undecided whether to say something or not.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Is it okay if I put it in my mouth? I've never done this, but I'd like to try."

Stephen moaned loudly "Wanna give me a blow job?"

You nodded. "But I do not know how..."

He moaned loudly and his hips jumped against your hand. At that point, Stephen didn't know if he would last long.

He cupped your cheek gently and ran his thumb across your lips, forcing you to separate them. "Open it for me." He asked, placing his thumb inside your mouth when you obeyed. He left his finger on your tongue collecting saliva and forcing you to swallow around it and when you did he closed his eyes and imagined the feeling of it around his dick.

"Suck it." He ordered and you obeyed, sucking his finger slowly. You were so good at following orders, so sweet and so obedient. Something about it all was revealing a side of Stephen that even he didn't know and he was enjoying it.

"See how easy it is? Now let's try to do the same thing but on my cock." He took his finger out of your mouth and grabbed his dick and directed it to your mouth.

"Open it big for me." He asked and you did exactly as he said.

Stephen smiled, placing just the head in your mouth. "You're going to suck it like it's a lollipop. Don't use your teeth, just your lips and tongue."

You seemed lost at first, the sweet taste of the lube wasn't exactly ideal, but it was better than saliva, at least at first. Deep down he was dreaming of seeing you going dirty, spitting on his cock without fear of making a mess.

A wrinkle of confusion appeared between your eyebrows, but you continued sucking his head slowly.

"Now use your tongue, you can flick it around my cock, it feels really nice."

You did exactly as he asked, eliciting a surprised groan from his throat when the tip of your tongue flicked onto his frenulum. "Shit, you learn so fast, sweetheart."

You took it out of your mouth to breathe and smiled proudly at him as he couldn't help but tease you. "You like being praised, don't you? Does it make you feel good?"

To his delight you blushed heavily making his cock pulse in your hand.

"See? That's how much I want you. Because you are so fucking special to me..."

He was interrupted when you leaned in to give him a hard kiss that took his breath away and then you put his cock in your mouth again and without him needing to teach you, you started using your hand around what you couldn't take and Stephen grabbed the sheets with one hand while he brought the other to your head, threading his fingers through your hair. You let out a sweet moan of approval around his cock and he had to control himself not to push your head or thrust against your mouth. Stephen liked to be rough when given oral, most of the time he forced deep throat because he loved cumming deep in their throats, but he could never do that to you. At least not yet and definitely not without your consent.

"Fuck... twist your hand while you move it up and down, sweetheart and keep using your tongue, give me a hard suck on the head... just like that... yeah, use your tongue just like that."

You followed each of his instructions masterfully which was quickly taking him to his limit and when he noticed how you started to moan while sucking him, how your legs started to rub against each other, clearly feeling pleasure while giving him pleasure, he knew he couldn't hold on much longer.

"Wait, sweetheart... stop, please." He moved his hand down to your chin and gently pulled your mouth away from his dick.

You seemed a little confused "Why? I thought I was enjoying it. Did I do something wrong?"

He chuckled nervously "I was, I am...very much." He ran say a little embarrassed. "I don't want to finish in your mouth. It's your first time and it might be a little gross."

He saw the realization on your face immediately and then you stared at his cock with a newfound curiosity.

"What does it taste like?"

Stephen smiled "To be honest, I don't know. It's salty. Most women don't like it."

You frowned, "I'm not most women."

"Of course not. You're my sweetheart." He said and watched you blush again. He would never get tired of it.

You went back to holding his cock, stroking it lightly up and down, being careful to touch the head as he explained and watched him twitching.

"I want to see you finish." You confessed.

He nodded "Just use your hands then."

"But will they be enough?" You asked increasing your grip again while stroking his cock.

Stephen groaned through his teeth.

"Of course. These sweet tiny hands are more than enough."

You smiled watching Stephen surrender completely to your touch. You were learning a lot that night and one of the things you enjoyed most was the sweet noises he made when he felt pleasure. It was hard to imagine such a stoic man making those sounds and your chest filled with pride knowing that you were responsible for leaving him like that.

He kept one hand firmly on the sheets and the other found a home on the back of your neck. His eyes were glued to yours, his cock was so hard and red and wet pulsing in your hand. You didn't stop or reduce the stimulation, remembering perfectly what he had explained to you. You wanted to see him finish.

"Oh, fuck sweetheart... I'm so close... just do it faster and don't stop." His baritone voice was even sexier when covered in lust like that.

"I won't stop" You promised moving your hands faster and harder and finally getting what you wanted. Seeing the magic happening before your eyes.

He moaned loudly, his jaw became rigid, his legs shook and cum began to squirt from the tip of his dick, spilling over your hand, entering between your fingers and making a mess in his stomach.

"Oh shit... oh fuck sweetheart." He muttered through clenched teeth and then pulled you to his lips and kissed you hard.

You kissed until you couldn't breathe and when he broke the kiss he smiled almost shyly.

"Shit, look at this. I made a fucking mess, sweetie."

"You get a dirty mouth when you're horny." You teased and he let out a small laugh.

"Good point. Does it bother you?"

You shook your head "No. Actually, I liked it." You said, observing the puddle of cum on his stomach and then looked at your hand, seeing the sticky, whitish liquid running through your fingers. You could smell it, it wasn't bad, it was just different and suddenly you were struck by a burning curiosity and the next thing you knew you were bringing your hand to your mouth and running your tongue between your fingers. You didn't know the look on your face when you tasted it, but Stephen smiled in disbelief, and you knew he was loving it just like he had loved everything else.

"It's salty and something else. It's not good, but it's not bad either. It's... strange."

"I don't think there's a better word to describe it." He teased moving his fingers and conjuring a damp towel with which he began to gently wipe your hands.

"It's the first time I've seen a woman taste my cum like it was a foreign dessert and I admit it was sexy as hell."

You felt your face getting hot which made his smile widen even more. He used the towel to clean himself and then got rid of it in the same way he conjured it and touched your cheek affectionately. "You're giving me so many firsts." He said contemplatively and then kissed you again. He pulled you on top of him and made you snuggle into his chest. With a flick of his fingers he dressed you and he and you laugh softly.

"I'll never get used to this."

He hummed "Yes you will because I will do this all the time and I will be by your side all the time.”

"Promise?"

He kissed the top of your head and held you in his arms.

"Promise."

You were silent for a minute listening to nothing but each other's breathing. It was you who broke the silence.

"Don't you think this is all very silly for you? I mean, we're together and we haven't even had sex yet and you're an experienced man..."

"There's only so many times you can say that to me without making me feel old." He warned making you laugh softly.

"I like my men older." You teased.

"Man. Your man you mean."

You smirked "Yes, sir."

Stephen sighed and you closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his hand rubbing your arm.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm loving every minute we spend together, sweetheart. You're making me live so many new experiences and I love you for that. There's nothing silly about this."

You smiled "Okay."

"There's just one problem, young lady."

You turned to look at him and there was a cute smile on his lips.

“Which is?”

"I want to come here every night from now on."

"I won't object to that."

He smirked and you rolled to the side on the bed and he was quick to pull you close so you were cuddled into his chest.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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dalesramblingsblog · 16 hours

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In honour of an episode that seems consciously about the construction of narratives around fundamentally meaningless aspects of the universe, a Twitter conversation with one of my last remaining mutuals to survive the Muskening, lightly repurposed to serve as a singular, narrativised Tumblr post in a way it was never designed for.

Who says art is dead?

73 Yards was strange and haunting and not entirely comprehensible in a way that Doctor Who seldom manages.

I suspect it's one where personal tolerance for that sort of thing will make or break the episode, but I certainly think that, knowing this was Gibson's first filmed episode, she did a phenomenal job.

It was also, for me at least, a more generally successful invocation of the kind of eldritch horror implied by the Toymaker or the Maestro, largely by virtue of it giving itself room to be ambiguous.

I've seen the complaints about stuff like the PM being a blank slate, but I do rather feel like that might be the point. It's an episode all about perception and projection and narrativisation of a universe that can be cold and hostile and incomprehensible.

(And frankly, I'm starting to suspect that the whole of RTD2 might be about that on some level. "We see something incomprehensible and invent the rules to make it work" and all that. It's audacious and bold in a way that Doctor Who hasn't been in half a decade.)

And as someone for whom those themes really hit home a lot of the time, yeah, I loved it. I know I probably sound like a broken record but I am genuinely just having a blast with this latest series.

The worst thing Doctor Who can ever feel like for me is an obligation that I only keep up with out of a need to stay relatively current in writing about it, and that was what the Chibnall Era often boiled down to for me.

Part of the reason, in hindsight, I poured so much of myself into my book reviews was that the show itself was simply failing to excite me with the level of regularity necessary to keep me engaged.

Knowing that I can put on Doctor Who on a Saturday night and be reasonably well-entertained and intrigued is, frankly, enough for me, but I do think there are enough aspects of genuine quality that I'm not just blindly worshipping at the altar of a false idol or w/e.

I dunno, I think at the end of the day I'm just a big sucker for TV that makes sense to me on an emotional rather than logical level. It's why I'm a big fan of Twin Peaks, or the second season of Millennium, or hell even Masks over on TNG.

The episode had the general feel of one that will be quite important to the overall themes of the season, so I can't imagine it will linger in *complete* ambiguity forever (though honestly if it did I would kind of love that).

Like I wouldn't be surprised if we're building up to a similar time loop reveal wrt Ruby's general existence. The fact that we've now got at least three instances of her timeline being haunted by mysterious old women cannot possibly be coincidence.

(Well, it can be, but that way lies goblins, as we know.)

IDK, there's a strangeness to Davies' acknowledgments of mediality here that goes even beyond Moffat's usual tricks. Casting a recurring actress by the name of Susan Twist while conspicuously mentioning Susan for the first time in forever feels so on the nose that while I initially suspected we might be building to the return of Susan, I now feel like we're instead headed for something much weirder.

There is so much going on and so much to unpack and frankly I don't have any idea how it could possibly tie together but I'm fascinated.

And again, the fact that this episode was almost explicitly about the process of fans theorising as to what the hell is going on with the season makes me further suspect a rebuttal of theory-focused cult fandom is in the offing.

When I first watched Once, Upon Time in 2021, I commented that it felt like Chris Chibnall's attempt to do a big, bold, incomprehensible piece of television, something almost in the vein of Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 8 but for Doctor Who.

But it's revealing that the only thing he could really think to do was dump a bunch of Doctor Who lore and simply edit things out. He's a mystery writer in the most tediously literal sense of the phrase, creating gaps that feel like they were made with a hacksaw rather than feeling like any sort of deliberate lacuna.

And I'm sorry Chibnall fans, there are some Thirteen episodes that I do like, but when I look at an episode like 73 Yards... whatever its faults may be, and I'm pretty confident I don't actually believe it to be perfect, it is bolder and weirder than anything Chibnall ever wrote. This is the kind of television I want to watch, and I make no apologies for that.

It's a rare piece of Doctor Who which comes close to capturing that sheer, terrible splendour I felt watching a slow zoom into an atom bomb explosion while being serenaded by the Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima. And sure, it's still very far out from being quite that strange, but it retains a curious power nevertheless.

What a show.

#doctor who #dale's ramblings #s40e4: 73 yards #ruby sunday #millie gibson

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mikeluciraphgabe · 2 years

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If I was the “chosen one” it would go something like this.

“No I’m not fucking going. I got homework and if my grades slip one more time imma get whopped. I will also get my ass beat if I got with a bunch of strange teenagers who all have mommy/daddy issues and are in serious need for a therapist to fight some random gang lord.” “he’s actually a magic evil mastermind-“ “Omg I don’t care.”

“If I do this, can I get my side kick animal/robot now? Or do I have to wait for episode three or something?”

“Fine! But I’m going to complain the entire time and make y’all miserable.”

“Omg no one cares you’re an orphan. Stop bringing it up every three fucking seconds. We have bigger problems, like figuring out if we’re going to have steak for dinner tonight”

“I’m NOT eating that.”

“Wtf do you mean you’re in love? You’re like 15.” “You’re 15.” “Ok? And? I still know the difference between love and puppy love.”

“Omg he cut my hair!” “It’s for a cover-“ “YOU CUT MY HAIR”

“Oh fuck not this bitch again.”

“You know, he has a point… hold up lemme consider switching sides. My dude literally is trying to solve world hunger, over population, and pollution. I mean, it’s a fucked up way, but at least he’s trying.”

“Do I have to fight the evil old man that clearly has much more training and experience than me? I mean, I feel like the odds are in his favor considering I just started my training like two days ago.” “You’re the only one who can-“ “what about to dude who is training me??” “…” “EXACTLY”

“You are the chosen one, we have been wait decades for you-“ “what ever the fuck you were hoping for, low them fucking expectations right the fuck now.”

“Can I go home now?”

“Don’t kill me! … I mean unless it’s in a kinky way 👀👀” “I- uh- what-“ “Ah, I guess you’re right. This is the first meeting after all… unless👀👀” “I have to go. But next time I’m killing you-“ “Omg yes daddy slay!! Go off! Tell your supposed mortal enemy that you catch feelings for and than have a moral freak out that you’re gonna kill them in the most attractive way!” “*crying* wtf” “aww my lil evil meow meow.”

“Stop being a self sacrificing idiot? People love you! I… I love you-“ “did you just call me an idiot?? Bitch first of all, that plan was 100% full proof. I’m not gonna fucking die like that. That’s embarrassing. Second off, don’t tell me what to do. I’ll kill myself if I want-“ *completely forgets they just proclaimed their love* and that’s that!!”

*crying hysterically while eating some of the best food the entire time I was there* “Omg lm never leaving this place-“ “-the evil dude we’re trying to lock up lives here.” *starts crying harder*

*looking up at sky* “I DONT WANNA BE A MAIN CHARACTER”

#the ‘Omg I don’t care’ goes in practically every paragraph #chosen one #fiction ideas #I need someone to write a book series about this #just the reluctance chosen one who don’t want to be a main character #oc #kinda anyway #author #writing ideas

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lordsardine · 1 month

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#okay like sue me. sometimes i google 'neioo' just because im a nosey bitch and want to see if anyone is talking about my fics #(i just got a comment on awh and like it makes me nostalgic etc. whatever. wanted to see if anything posted somewhere prompted it)#and i havent done this in a while #so please tell me why. WHY am i cited in someone's fucking PhD dissertation #yes the paper overall is about fandom and examining hetalia in particular so it's not like out of left field #but there are two fics total cited and mine is one. AND also there is a post from my fucking neioo blog cited???#like my book announcement one??#and neither of these are cited directly in the dissertation just at the end #so now i feel like im going a bit insane but like okay #i have work i need to be doing and i was reading this fucking dissertation instead #wish i could turn to 15 year old me and be like 'hey there champ. you know that fic series youre day dreaming in your head #that you don't want to write down because you think no one will read it #good stuff. anyway. one day it'll be cited in a dissertation #oh and your grandmother will have read it. have a good day'#...............well. now i need to focus back on work

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mistninja · 3 months

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Im thinking of doing a "franchise deep dive" series but i dont know if i want to do shad.whunters or the c.smere first

#sh baffles me i love how bad and stupid it is and its so so so problematic its so funny to talk about #there are so many books in that series and i have read so many of them #someone has to #its so crazy how that author keeps getting away with incest by creating magical pseudoincest #tw incest #i need to talk about it because it just clicked in my head recently that the parabatai romance is just her way of writing her incest kink #without actually being incest #and well theres the cosmere. the mcu of fantasy. my beloved turned old friend that i kinda dislike now but i cant break the bond with #also has too many books and it gets crazier every year

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acotars · 10 months

Note

(I have no idea if this will make sense—sorry I’ve had some wine this evening and so I’m rambling)

I think this is a “popular” opinion but not widespread—people need to understand that there is so much nuance to reading. Obviously there’s the “you can like things I don’t like” and vice versa, but also in HOW people enjoy things. Like take Fourth Wing (I know I know), but while I also agree with a lot of the complaints, I still was just like “that was a fun time, I totally ignored all the sex scenes bc I hate how they were written, but I was vibing the whole time.” And I feel like some people would still respond to my opinion like “okay but it was so horrible how did you even enjoy it at all??? Lame”

Like okay Betty, I love high fantasy as much as you, but sometimes I want something that just fucks, okay?

(and not to say you aren’t allowed to not like things, but there seems to be a fine line between “hey! I didn’t like this but that’s okay” and “I hated this and I CANNOT comprehend why ANYONE could find even an inkling of fun from this + I’m going to subtly implicate that I think people who like this are stupid”) (obviously not for books that are objectively hurtful or offensive)

And of course you can go so many different ways than just that example, but it’s a mix of gate-keeping, prejudice, lack of empathy, and a bit of a superiority complex that makes it so hard for the reading community to really be united.

#you are SO right i’m glad you’re saying it #the superiority thing is so truly genuinely unbelievably exhausting but it’s how some people get through the day so idk idc #but yeah i’ve had irls scoff and laugh at my bookshelf and i’m like dude. i’m 24 years old ok like #i don’t need to play weird childish games about who’s better for reading what #i like it and it’s bad vs. it’s good and not for me vs. i don’t like it and i think it’s bad vs. it’s good and i love it? all valid!!#all real!!! and where a book falls on that axis will be different for every single person!!#i read a good amount of literary fiction and as an amateur writer i usually like it because it’s so fun to read invested writing like that #but ALSO! i usually have a lot more FUN reading a romance novel or a silly fantasy series #and i read primarily for entertainment and not for educational value. and that’s okay!#it’s so bizarre because you don’t see people scoffing when someone watches the walking dead instead of a documentary or like the letter M #but as soon as someone reads for entertainment above anything else it’s a waste of time and they’re stupid.#this feels entirely unrelated to your ask but i’ve wanted to talk about it for too long #and IVE HAD WINE TOO #i agree w you wholeheartedly though and i’m glad you sent this #anon #asked and answered #hot takes

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subbmissivesuccubus · 8 months

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Bully- Part 1

Summary: Your bully's, Gojo and Geto, find out an embarrassing secret of yours and will never let you live it down. But maybe, you don't want them to.

Disclaimer: 18+ fic. Gojo X Fem reader X Geto. Humiliation kink. Free use kink. Gojo and Geto being mean. Bully Geto and Gojo. Dub-con warning. It is subtly implied that reader wants and enjoys what's happening to her, but the boys don't care to ask for consent.

a/n: Sorry it took so long wah but here's part one to the series. I plan to write many more cause damn it is so fun haha. I promise, the next part will have all the gratuitous smut and ruthless fucking this premise deserves. Consider this an appetizer <3

Taglist: @bisexuawolfsalt @candycandy00 @nekonanamii @sirimiripetrichor @collectionofdolls @dreamsxmerci

You sighed as you walked towards your classroom, dragging your feet, knowing full well what was waiting for you. It was the end of the day and it was your turn to clean up the classroom and just your luck- you were paired up with the two people you couldn't stand.

Gojo and Geto. The two 'strongest' sorcerers of your school. Their reputation preceded them. One of them was the prodigal son of a famous family with a deadly technique while the other had an incredibly useful and powerful skill as well. Everyone disliked them to some extent, but nobody could deny that the Jujutsu world would be worse without them.

Which is why it always confused you as to why these two powerful men seemed to love bullying you.

They were never malicious but damn if they weren't annoying. They loved to tease and prank you, joking about how weak you were and how you couldn't do anything by yourself. Forget the fact that you were actually quite strong and capable- but compared to them- everyone was weak.

But they seemed to enjoy bullying you especially even if there were classmates who were of lower grade than you. Stealing your drink right before you were going to take it from the vending machine, taking unflattering pictures of you and distributing it, embarrassing you in front of strangers by treating you like a dumb baby in front of them, making loud sex noises if you were on the phone with someone, tossing away your books and stealing your money-

Gojo spanking your ass casually a few times, Geto licking off some chocolate that was smeared next to your lips like it was a normal thing to do and even that one time when they cornered you in the hallway and convinced you to let them grope your boobs:

"If you let us squeeze your tits, we'll leave you alone for a week~" Gojo had said, wangling his fingers comically as they both stared at your chest like perverts. The offer was too good to give up which led to them squeezing your clothed tits for ten second each before they left, laughing at how easy it was to use you. And of course, they continued to bother you anyway.

You could have made a complaint to the higher ups about their behavior, something your friends have told you to do but you refused. You didn't want to be the wuss who was running to the elders over something so childish when everyone has an important job to do. Dealing with some bullying was easy compared to fighting to the death with some curses.

Besides, if you reported on them...

You steeled yourself before opening to the door to the classroom, met with the sight you expected: Gojo and Geto, lounging around, not doing any work as they waited for you to do it for them because, in their words: 'the weaklings need to put in more effort'.

But what you were not expecting to see was your phone in Gojo's hand using earplugs that he had connected to the device. You knew you left your phone in the locker assigned to you in the hallways which meant these two managed to pick the lock and take it. But the anger over that was dwarfed by your sudden realization:

The way they were looking at you as you closed the door, giving you a shocked look but you could tell there was an underlying hint of pure glee.

Uh oh.

"Give me back my-"

You yelped as Geto suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, barely giving you a second to collect yourself before he wrapped his arms around your neck, catching you in a choke-hold. Before you could even react, he pulled your back against him and manhandled you as he sat on a classroom bench and forced you to sit between his legs, wrapping said legs around you. You were completely caught, your nails doing nothing even as you dug it into his arms.

"Holy fuck!" Gojo explained, eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he continued to listen to the audio on your phone, looking over at you and Geto opposite of the table he was sitting on, "You're a perverted freak, aren't you?"

"Give it back!" you snapped, grunting in annoyance as you tried to break out of Geto's hold but the man simply laughed as he held you tighter, his legs not budging.

"This is some nasty stuff!" Gojo continued, "Who knew a weakling like you would be such a masochistic slut~" he removed the earbuds from the socket and increased the volume as he confirmed what you had feared:

"Yeah? you like that don't you? Little slut~" a man's voice echoed throughout the room from your phone speakers, "Everybody looking at you as I fuck this sloppy little pussy~ Oh this cunt is dripping for me- did you like being spanked in front of them so much?"

It was an erotic audio you had saved on your phone, one of many that you enjoyed in private. You had even saved it under non-suspicious names which meant that the boys were digging through your files to find something- and they did.

"This isn't even the only one we heard, you know." Gojo explained as he dangled the phone in front of you mockingly, "What was it again? A girl getting humiliated by her teacher in front of her classmates-"

"A girl getting groped by her boyfriend on a crowded train." Geto recollected, his lips so close to your ear you could feel his hot breath dance against your skin.

"Being used as a free-use toy by a group of guys~" Gojo said, a giant shit eating grin on his face, "Seems like this one has a humiliation kink~"

"I'm not surprised." Geto said, leaning into your ear and blowing into it, making you gasp and jump, "No wonder she never reported us to the principle for all the times we preyed on her. She was probably enjoying it."

"Oh!" Gojo said like he just realized it, "Was that why? Was your pussy growing wet every time we bullied you, little slut?"

"Fuck you." you spat out, both of the men laughing in response.

"Yeah, I bet you wanted us to fuck you." Geto growled into your ear, your shiver not going unnoticed by him, "You're fucking loving this~"

"Why don't we check?" Gojo suggested, cutting off anything you might have said, his hands inching towards your belt, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "Let's see for ourselves if we made your pussy wet~"

"Gojo-"

"That's a great plan!" Geto interrupted, laughing as he tightened his hold your your neck, making you gasp, "Take those pants off. So baggy and loose- what a waste of a nice ass."

"I agree." Gojo said, finger now running over the metal of your belt, "it hides so much. With what I felt everytime I've spanked you- your pants do you no favors."

"Don't you- fucking dare!" You choked out, face turning slightly red from the lack of air and from Gojo slowly starting to fiddle with your belt.

"Oh, what are you gonna do about it, little slut?" Gojo teased, licking his lips as his long, lithe fingers started to tug at the leather of your belt, "Look at your fucking face- that look in your eyes? You're loving this."

"No- I'm not- fuck-" you sputtered out, failing to convey your frustrations. You couldn't stand these two assholes. Constantly picking on you and thinking they were so high and mighty- treating you like a bug on their path. So smug and narcissistic and not caring about anyone but themselves-

But as much as you'd hate to admit it, you couldn't deny that your body was throbbing. Everytime they bullied you, you felt that heat. Your heart-rate quickened and your pussy would grow wet, leaving you a confused mess every-time you got bullied. When it first happened, you didn't understand what was happening. Through some internet searching, you found those audios and realized you weren't the only one out there.

A masochist with a humiliation kink.

And without them knowing, the two guys you hate were fulfilling those fantasies for you.

Well now, they were more than aware.

"Come on, little bitch~" Geto cooed into your ear, his silky voice making you shudder, "Why settle with these audios when you can experience the real thing?"

"I...I..." you panted, heat rushing to your face and your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel your pussy dampen and had no doubt that if Gojo actually took your pants off, they'd see you be wet and needy.

"Too slow~" Gojo suddenly said, unbuckling your belt in a matter of seconds before ripping it off of you just as fast, throwing it aside. You yelped as you instinctively struggled, Geto laughing behind you as he tightened his hold on you even more, rendering you helpless. Gojo laughed as well, his bright blue eyes peeking from behind his glasses as you could see the gleam of excitement in them.

"You excited, little bitch?" Gojo cooed, licking his lips as his hands started trailing up your leg, running over the fabric of your pants as he inched up higher and higher. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, a rush of heat coursing through you.

"He asked you a question." Geto said, clicking his tongue as you refused to say anything, "Weren't you taught any manners?"

"Fucking- i'll kill you-" you gasped out, face growing redder as you heard Geto's growl of annoyance, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. "Don't worry about it, Suguru." Gojo said, smirking as he started undoing the buttons of your pants, "We can punish her later for her disrespect. For now, I just want to get at this pussy~"

With a big grin, Gojo ripped your pants off of you in one fell swoop, making you squeal as he tossed it away. You shivered as your bare legs were exposed to the evening air as well as their lecherous stares. You could see Gojo's eyes trail up your legs before zoning in on your clothed pussy, the man letting out a snort as he took in your panties.

"Pink with a bow on? Really?" he joked, "how plain and not sexy."

"I think they're cute." Geto chimed in, also shamelessly staring down at your clothed cunt, "But it doesn't matter. It's not going to be on her for long, anyway."

"True." Gojo said with a nod as he hooked his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it out before letting go, allowing the elastic to slap back against you, "but next time, wear something sexier."

"I hate you- so much!" you snarled, face bright red, biting your lower lip as the white haired man looped his fingers back into the waistband of your panties, this time, very obviously wanting to get it off of you. You gasped, unable to stop your shivers as Gojo leaned forward and placed a kiss on your tummy, his tongue peeking out to lick at your skin as he slowly starting pulling your panties down. He laughed as you tried to squiggle out but your movements only made the slide of your panties all the more easier for him.

"Look at that~" Gojo gasped as your cunt got exposed, practically drooling as he stared like a pervert, a twinkle behind his blue eyes, "You might be a weakling but atleast you have a pretty pussy."

"Atleast she's good for something~" Geto teased, shuffling behind you and in that moment, you felt it. Something long, hard and thick pressed up against your back and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was. You gulped as you felt the imprint of Geto's cock against you, unable to help yourself as your eyes darted towards the front of Gojo's pants and sure enough: His erection was straining against it.

They were too focused on your cunt to notice where you were looking and you were too focused on their dicks to notice that your panties were now completely off and that Gojo had tossed the fabric aside. Geto immediately hooked his legs over your own before forcefully spreading them apart, leaving you wide and exposed to their perverted gazes. Gojo let out a whistle as he dragged a chair over before sitting on it, his face now right across your bare cunt.

"Fuck- fuck you- fuck you!" you gasped out and cursed, feeling lightheaded from the situation. "How does she look?" Geto asked, both of them ignoring you and you could hear the hunger in his voice and the sensation of his cock twitching against you. "Oh, she's perfect~" Gojo responded and you knew they were referring to your pussy as its own person- somehow giving it more praise and respect than they've ever given you, "And oh so wet~"

"I want to see." Geto demanded, not having the same view as Gojo, "Can't let you have all the fun."

"Sure thing, pal." Gojo said, not taking his eyes off of your pussy as he continued to stare, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Gojo- don't you dare-" You barked out, understanding what he was going to do- but what you hoped sounded aggressive came out soft and subservient. The man simply snorted in response, ignoring your pleas as he opened up his phone camera and started taking pictures of your pussy. You shut your eyes and squealed everytime you heard the shutter of the camera, trembling body still held tightly in Geto's arms.

"Her hole clenches every-time I take a picture~" Gojo cooed, bringing a hand up to thumb at your pussy lips before spreading them apart even more, making your back arch against Geto, "And look at this little clit! So fucking cute!"

"Just show it to me already!" Geto snarled, impatient. "Alright, alright." Gojo responded with a roll of his eyes, standing up before turning the phone towards the two of you, a shot of your spread pussy on screen. You turned your head away and closed your eyes, ears ringing at how humiliated you felt-

and pussy dripping at how good it was.

"Oh, she does look delicious!" Geto praised, gripping your chin as he forced you to turn your head back towards the phone, making you look at the picture, "You have such a pretty cunt and you hid it from us for so long?"

You whined cutely as you looked at the picture- a closeup shot of your spread cunt with a clear view of your clit and hole, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Seriously!" Gojo barked as he started swiping, showing off the various photos of your pussy that were now in his possession, "If we knew all you wanted was some fucking, we'd have pounded this pussy ages ago! I've always wanted a sex toy."

"Don't you have like a dozen already?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure this bitch's cunt will feel way better than some silicone~"

"I hate you-" you gasped out, any and all fight leaving your bones (not that there was much to begin with) as you leaned your head against Geto's shoulder, "I hate you both- so much-"

"Yeah?" Geto asked, the tone in his voice clearly indicating that he wasn't taking you seriously, "Well, this pussy says otherwise."

He let go of your chin and snaked his hand down quickly to cup your pussy, making you yelp. You didn't know if what you felt was shame or relief that there was finally a hand on your cunt- finally some friction against your dripping womanhood. You tossed your head back, eyebrows furrowed and lip trapped under your teeth as Geto's long fingers started gliding through your pussy lips. The slick sound of him rubbing circles over your hole and collecting your wetness echoed through the room, the sound making your ears burn and your chest feel like it was on fire.

This is was so...so...

so fucking fun...

"She's loving this~" Gojo predicted accurately, eyes darting between your blissful expression and Geto's fingers toying with your body, "Fucking whore- slutty bitch- oh, we are going to have fun with you~"

"Her pussy is growing wetter by the second." Geto noted, cock fully erect and throbbing against you, his other arm slowly letting go of the hold around your neck, confident that you were going to stay right there like a good little girl. You gasped as the head spinning pressure was finally off of you, taking in a few deep breaths but choking on it just as quickly as the man started using his slick covered fingers to run circles over your clit.

"You're dripping all over the table, little bitch~" Gojo teased, taking a couple more pictures before pocketing it, "Fuck- let me feel too- or- actually-"

He sat back on the chair, pulling it closer before gripping your thighs, an eager grin on his face:

"I'm gonna eat~"

"Get used to this, little bitch." Geto growled into your ear, pulling his hand away from your cunt and snickering at your whine of disappointment, "You're our toy now and we are going to do whatever we want to you, understand?"

His hands came upto your chest, lithe fingers starting to undo the buttons of your shirt one by one, revealing a patch of skin before the peeks of your bra. Gojo licked his lips and moved forward, his hot breath fanning against your slick cunt.

"Whatever. We. Want."

#subby writes #jujutsu geto smut #jujutsu gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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inkskinned · 1 year

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sometimes we just need someone to pay enough attention.

for the longest time i had been trying to read The Lord of The Rings. everyone had sung the praises for it, over and over. i'd seen clips of the movie and it seemed like it could be fun, but actually reading it was fucking horrible.

my parents had the omnibus - all the books squished into one big tome - and in the 4th grade i started sort of an annual tradition: i would start trying to read TLR and get frustrated after about a month and put it back down. at first i figured i was just too young for it, and that it would eventually make sense.

but every time i came back to it, i would find myself having the exact same experience: it was confusing, weird, and dry as a fucking bone. i couldn't figure it out. how had everyone else on earth read this book and enjoyed it? how had they made movies out of this thing? it was, like, barely coherent. i would see it on "classics" list and on every fantasy/sci-fi list and everyone said i should read it; but i figured that it was like my opinion of great expectations - just because it's a classic doesn't mean i'm going to like experiencing it.

at 20, i began the process of forcing myself through it. if i had to treat the experience like a self-inflicted textbook, i would - but i was going to read it.

my mom came across me taking notes at our kitchen table. i was on the last few pages of the first book in the omnibus, and i was dreading moving on to the next. she smiled down at me. only you would take notes on creative writing. then she sat down and her brow wrinkled. wait. why are you taking notes on this?

i said the thing i always said - it's boring, and i forget what's happening in it because it's so weird, and dense. and strange.

she nodded a little, and started to stand up. and then sat back down and said - wait, will you show me the book?

i was happy to hand it over, annoyed with the fact i'd barely made a dent in the monster of a thing. she pulled it to herself, pushing her glasses up so she could read the tiny writing. for a moment, she was silent, and then she let out a cackle. she wouldn't stop laughing. oh my god. i cannot wait to tell your father.

i was immediately defensive. okay, maybe i'm stupid but i've been trying to read this since the 4th grade and -

she shook her head. raquel, this is the Silmarillion. you've been reading the Silmarillion, not the lord of the rings.

anyway, it turns out that the hobbit and lord of the rings series are all super good and i understand why they're recommended reading. but good lord (of the rings), i wish somebody had just asked - wait. this kind of thing is right up your alley. you love fantasy. it sounds like something might be wrong. why do you think it's so boring?

#thanks for reminding me this happened #writeblr #warm up #i don't think this story translates well to the page #IRONIC!!!! :)#but yeah man i read the Silmarillion before i read the hobbit #the omnibus didn't explain what it was and i figured - you start at the beginning and then you read from the beginning #that's how books work #how was i supposed to know #EDIT IN THE TAGS: hi i think i worded this in a confusing way #the omnibus had ALL the stories in it - the silm #the hobbit #and all of LOTR #they just put the silm in the front so i thought logically it was the first book #that's how an omnibus usually works after all - the first book in the series is the first book in the tome #to be fair i GUESS the silm takes place “before” the hobbit????

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hier--soir · 4 months

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a lover's pinch | eight

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: the one where they get caught. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, domestic bliss, gratuitous descriptions of joel reading, joni mitchell, explicit unprotected piv sex, delayed gratification, dirty talk, finger sucking, biting, academic praise kink, cream pie, who's in the pic on joel's desk??, angst, confrontation, an orpheus and eurydice metaphor uh oh, those blue panties from 3 come back to haunt us. word count: 6.9k nice series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: i need someone to make me write [or not write] the way j miller phd does in this... also sorry and i hope you like it and sorry again follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part eight of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Winter descends over Maine not with a bang, but with a whimper.

The days and weeks fold together in a blurring mess of sleep ins and papers and coffees, until suddenly a month has passed, and you hardly noticed it slipping through your fingers.

You spend less time at home, and more tucked on one side of Joel’s couch, your feet in his lap as he lounges down the other end. You dip pale toast in runny yolks at the table, listening to him on the phone to Sarah in the other room. Hear him say I’m good, baby girl… I’m really good when she asks how he is.

You ride shotgun in the truck between his place and the university, slipping out the passenger door a little early every time. Walk the final stretch lest someone notice his glasses, your hair through the windscreen.

On campus you watch him up there on his stage, a burn in your chest, and see how he seeks you out in the after. How he props you above him and returns your gaze finally. Curls his body around yours and repents for every time he had to look away.

It's warm and it’s kind and it’s trading books with scribbled notes in the margins.

It’s rain smacking against the windows as you read, his scruffy chin nesting in the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, two sets of eyes staring at the same words.

It’s nodding off in his bed where the sheets have started to smell like your perfume, eyelids heavy as you wait for him to get home. It’s wearing only his clothes and being woken up by his face between your thighs, pupils blown and lips slick.

It’s finding each other at the end of a long day and hearing him say, I thought about you all afternoon.

And this feeling of familiarity writhes between the slats of your ribs. A comfortable, quiet fondness that you see reflected in his eyes when he looks at you; that you hear when that tender mouth forms your name.

You gorge yourselves on it. Put lips to the crooks and thorns in each other’s bodies and suckle on that fondness, swallow, swallow, and watch the well never run dry.

The bleed is endless. Beneath the stain of time it floods and flurries, melting the two of you together until you start to feel certain it could never end.

Until, of course and at last, it does.

Sunday.

It’s late, you think. Somewhere in the mess where time blurs between sunset and midnight, Winter stealing hours that feel like minutes.

The curtains in his living room are drawn, low yellow light warming the room from a tall lamp in the corner. Blue spins in the on the record player, a gentle sway of sound that fills the room.

I like listening to Joni on Sundays, he’d confessed in the bathroom, bashful as he rubbed a towel over you, drying the wet ends of your hair and the slick skin of your shoulders.

He reads at the table now, strong chin cupped in his palm as his eyes flit across the pages of a textbook.

Something to do with conservation; a Minoan palace in Knossos, you think. He’d explained it earnestly, but his curls were soft and fluffy from the shower and his glasses were resting on the tip of his nose and so you’d found yourself zoning out, eyes going from round to heart shaped as you nodded along from the couch.

Every few minutes he grips his pen and jots down a note before glancing up to check on you. And whenever this happens you avert your eyes quickly, pretending to be enthralled by the half-finished essay on your screen. You have a feeling he catches you each time, because he keeps laughing softly, tutting under his breath as he goes back to reading, foot never stopping its tap-tap-tap in time with the music. The only time he gets up is to flip the record, and soon those little laughs and huffs start to mix with Joni’s bell-like voice, and the opening lyrics to California swell through the room as you type at a glacial pace.

She sings, I met a redneck on a Grecian isle, and you glance up again, eyes turning wide and doe-like when you find Joel already watching you. He gave me back my smile, Joni sings. But he kept my camera to sell.

“How’s the writing going?”

“Good.” Liar. “Great, even.” Bad liar.

Joel’s eyes narrow behind his glasses, lips twitching in a clear attempt to smother a laugh, but he just nods, looking back down at his book.

He’s wearing home clothes. That’s what he called them. Home clothes.

When he’d said it, still pulling them on, you’d wanted nothing more than to grip his hands and stop him in his tracks, but you’d sequestered yourself to the other side of the room instead, sorely committed to the study evening he’d suggested. But he’s in soft grey sweatpants and an even softer looking white t-shirt, and every time he sips his coffee he hums happily against the rim of his mug, and his bare foot goes tap-tap-tap and Joni sings Oh, will you take me as I am?, and—

“Come here.”

You blink. His eyebrows raise expectantly, lips split into a broad smile now.

“Unless you’d rather stay over there and keep starin’.”

You reach him as The Last Time I saw Richard, the final track on side two, begins to spin.

Joni sings, all romantics meet the same fate, and Joel’s knees fall apart, thighs splayed so handsomely across his chair, inviting you to take a seat. You ignore the woeful lyrics and focus instead on the knowing smirk on his face, taking a step forward, and another, until you’re stood between his open legs.

He doesn’t touch you. Just smiles, all saccharine and easy, leaning back in his chair.

“Much left to do?” He points at the laptop in your hands.

“Maybe another hundred words,” you grumble and put it down on the table. “Today, at least.”

Joel hums, eyes flicking down. His gaze skirts across the bare skin of your legs, the soft sleep shorts you’re wearing; ones he puts on you himself, and knows you don’t have anything beneath.

“Come here.” He pats his thigh; stops you with a soft tut when you try to straddle him. “Naw, baby, like this.”

Soft hands tilt your hips, turn you until your back is to his chest and he’s drawing you onto his lap.

“Oh.” You smile, leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

Nose turned into the side of his face, you brush a kiss to the edge of his jaw and sigh in relief as he wraps his arms around your middle and squeezes.

The space between his chest and the table is a little tight; small enough that if you were to lean forward a few inches your ribs would knock against the wood.

As if he’s thinking the same thing, Joel leans forward. Presses you against the table, one hand coming up to hold your face. His fingers are soft on your skin, offering small amounts of pressure as he grips your jaw and encourages you to look forward.

“Gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up a little, skin prickling at the shift in his tone. Still soft, still quiet, yet with something… demanding, shifting just below the surface.

“You,” you say, cringing at the way your voice takes on a higher quality all of a sudden. Steeling yourself, you add, “You’re distracting me.”

“Wasn’t doing anythin’,” he responds simply. “Just sittin’ over here, minding my business while you burn holes in my head.”

“You know what you’re doing.”

“I cooked dinner.” He squeezes you again. “Fed you. We showered, and now I’m readin’.”

“You were humming.”

Joel kisses the shell of your ear.

“And tapping.”

He flutters his fingers against your hip.

“S’that such a crime?” he murmurs.

“No, but…” You sigh when his tongue snakes out, tracing the soft curve of your earlobe. “But it…”

“But but but,” Joel mocks, and you can feel his sick smirk against your neck, teeth teasing along your carotid now. “But all you can think about is my cock, ain’t that right?”

Your stomach falls away. Everything firm inside you turns to goo as he laughs, knowing he’s right.

“So needy,” he taunts you, holding your hip tighter as his length begins to thicken against your ass. “Had all day to ask for it.”

You don’t respond, tongue tied and more uninterested in your essay than ever.

“Just lookin’ for a distraction now,” he teases lightly. “The more you put it off, the harder it’ll be to get it done, baby.”

“I know.”

“If you know.” He hooks a finger over the waistband of your shorts. “Then finish it.”

“S’not that simple,” you whine, rolling your hips over his lap. A sharp puff of air warms the back of your neck, so you do it again. His hand tightens around your jaw.

“Just a hundred words, right?” he coaxes gruffly. “Come on now, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You feel his thick cock beneath his sweats, stiff and pressing between the crease of your thighs, melting what’s left of your resolve. You want to grind down against it. To pull your soft sleep shorts to the side and let him sink inside with no more pretence. But you put your hands on the desk, eyes on the screen, and Joel slides his warm palms beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Floats them over the curve of your stomach, the soft flesh around your ribs, waking thousands of tiny hairs that cover your skin until his fingers meet your chest, and he cups your breasts.

You shiver, lids growing heavy as he squeezes and tickles at your skin. Your nipples harden to peaks against his rough palms, and he sighs at the feeling, face resting against the back of your neck as he plays.

“Fuck,” you sigh, voice a broken buzz in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “I thought you wanted me to write.”

“I do,” Joel murmurs unconvincingly. “A hundred words, go on.”

Hands like lead on the table, it feels like an impossible task. Even more than it did ten minutes ago. You force yourself to lift your fingers to the keyboard, vision sharpening as you look for where you left off. You try to shut him out, try to ignore the way his tongue warms the skin on your neck, the way the hairs on his thighs tickle against yours, and begin to write.

But he doesn’t make it easy.

The second you finish the first sentence one of his hands drifts down your stomach to cup your pussy over your shorts. You flinch, heart galloping in your chest when he sighs in your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, pleading already. “I can’t if you…”

“You can,” he soothes. The warmth of his palm is suffocating, so hot against where you’re already wet and wanting. Thick fingers press against the fabric, nudging it between your slick folds until it goes damp. “Just ignore me, baby.”

“Easier said than done,” you reply. You type five more words, chest rattling with heavy breaths as he paws at you, thumbing at your clit through your shorts.

His breath is hot and heavy against your neck and his soft curls tickle your skin as you try to focus.

“Ignore me,” he repeats, and you squeak as he tilts you forward. A rush of breath spills from your mouth, chest flush to the desk, ass suspended above his lap as he shifts behind you. And when he pulls you back down, you sigh pathetically over the fact that he’s pushed his sweats down.

The full weight of his length presses against you, nestled between the rounded flesh of your ass, and you manage to mumble his name.

“Just—” You’re panting now; considering begging. “—I can do this later. I will finish it later, I swear, just—”

Joel nudges your shorts to the side and presses a finger between your folds. A ragged gasp stutters out of you, finger jammed against the keyboard. A steady stream of kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk fills a line of the document as he smears your wetness up to your clit.

“Fuck,” you mumble, hips tilting forward, trying to chase the feeling.

“None of that,” he tuts quickly, other hand slipping down and pinching the skin at the inside of your thigh. You’ve only backspaced half of the k’s when he slips two fingers inside you. “Come on, now.”

Thirty words fly as he crooks his fingers inside you. Slow and gentle, thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit as he works you open.

“That’s it,” he coos, pressing a third finger inside. Your cunt sucks desperately at his fingers, the skin of your face warming as you catch a glimpse of your reflection on the laptop screen. Jaw hanging low, a silent prayer for relief written across the open slant of your mouth. “My smart girl. Knew they didn’t give you that degree for nothin’.”

You gasp and swat at his wrist, but a satisfied little smile cracks your face for a moment when he laughs. Only for it to fall seconds later when he lays a sharp bite to the back of your shoulder. You moan, voice cracking around his name, rutting desperately against his hand.

“You can do it,” he flatters you, sickly sweet and entirely convincing as he strokes at your insides. Curling and stretching until you’re turning to a wet trembling mess in his lap, wobbling through half-assed sentences that you aren’t sure even match up with your essay outline anymore.

“Good,” Joel murmurs. “That’s good.”

“Don’t look,” you slur out, heart pounding at the idea of him reading anything you’ve written in this state. “It’s f-for your class, you can’t look.”

“Not lookin’.” He noses at the back of your ear. Presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Just lookin’ at you, m’always just lookin’ at you.”

“I’ll finish it.” You switch up your tactic now. Voice low and breathy, the back of your head resting heavy on his shoulder, eyes longing to close. “Tomorrow, I’ll write it—”

“Tomorrow?” His thumb drags harder on your clit.

“Yes,” you gasp, stomach tensing. You feel a bit floaty all of a sudden. Locked out of your own mind, all thoughts spilling from between your thighs as desire grips you, consumes you. “Please, just…”

“What, baby?” he prompts. “Say it.”

“Just let me sit on your cock,” you groan. “Please, I can’t think right now, I’ll finish it, I promise.”

“You fuckin’ promise—Christ,” he grumbles, fingers drifting from your tight clutch. “Just a little more, baby, for me.”

You don’t even really know how it happens after that. Ears roaring, skin tight, everything is a blur as you write and write and write and he presses his leaking tip between your folds works you down onto his length. Hands everywhere, so warm, so rough, holding your thighs, your waist, your breasts, your shorts to the side. Slower when your gasps spin higher, you think, always knowing when to ease up, when the burn gets too much too quick.

Joel grips your thighs, prying them apart until your calves are on the outside of his, and then he’s shifting his legs open wide, giving your own no choice but to follow. You feel the full weight of him in this position. The long, thick stretch of his cock inside you as your legs dangle listlessly over his lap, toes straining and failing to reach the floor. You can do nothing but rest heavily across his thighs, those hands still everywhere all at once, and whine pitifully as your walls spasm and clench around him, coil inside pulling tighter and tighter.

Vision waning, the text on your screen warbles as Joel slips the pad of his finger against your clit and begins to play with it. Soft little rubs that have you going tense and leaning forward on the table, braced on your elbows and grinding down into his lap, desperate for release, for movement, anything. It feels like your brain is splintering into a thousand tiny pieces inside your skull.

“You’re so wet,” Joel rasps, forehead heavy against your shoulder blade as he groans. “Pretty pussy’s drippin’ all over me, honey. You really need it that bad?”

You say something you think, mouth moving and eyes rolling as his hips shift up in a weak little thrust. Just one.

“Keep goin’.” He sounds pained, half-drunk as the words stumble out of him.

Your mind slips further from your grasp and you’re typing pure gibberish. Slurring messes of letters cloaked in perfect punctuation. Your fingers fly across the keys, painting commas and full stops and semi colons around complete and utter bullshit as your cunt flutters and your belly stirs.

His finger glides and his cock pulses and your vision darkens and you come. Shoulders hunched, table digging into your forearms, you fold forward and cry out as an agonisingly brief orgasm rips through you.

It’s over before it’s even begun, but Joel groans and offers a shallow thrust, your cry turning to a gasp as he grips your thigh for dear life.

“Oh good girl,” he murmurs, fingers slowing against your nerves, not wanting to overwhelm. “Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Joel.” There are tears in your eyes now. Liquid frustration that pools against your waterline and threatens to spill when he still doesn’t fuck you how you need him to.

“How much left?” he asks roughly, rocking his hips against yours in a steady pace now. Gentle, rolling movements that snag on the heels of your orgasm and hold it close.

“Huh?”

“How many words?”

“I don’t…” Your eyelids flutter. “I don’t know.”

“Shit, sweetheart,” he laughs a little then, rueful but not unkind. “That’s gonna be hell to edit.”

With a furious groan you slam the laptop closed, the sharp smack of metal on metal filling your ears as he grips your hips and really starts to fuck you.

It’s not fast though, not rough. Just deep, lingering strokes that grind against the end of you and nudge you stumbling toward the edge. He pinches your clit between the tips of his middle and ring fingers, rubbing slow drags up and down against the hood like that. Moaning and sweating, you slip your hand over his. Press lower and let your fingers glide around his girth, thick and vascular between your thighs, hot skin wetter every time he pulls out of you.

“Feel that?” Joel pants, teeth nipping at the top of your spine. “You’re creamin’ for me, baby. Fuck, I—I need to taste it.”

“Shit—oh god.”

He grips your wrist and drags it up, chin harsh against your shoulder as he sucks your fingers into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is filthy as his hot tongue snakes out to lick the webbing between your fingers, and you tip your head to watch his eyes roll back. His thighs tremble beneath you, but you can’t be sure it’s not just the vibrations of your own body tricking you.

But no, it’s him. His hips stutter against yours, deep plunges stilting into shallow movements, and he stalls deep inside your cunt for a second on the end of every thrust, as if his brain is short-circuiting.

You hook your fingers in his mouth, the tips digging into the gums behind his teeth, and tug him back to reality. He nips at your fingers and moans, hand falling heavy between your thighs again. And he doesn’t stop now; keeps pushing and pinching and fucking and grinding until your pussy is pulling tight and slick around his length and your fingers are fanned loose and shaky across his face, and you can hardly breathe except to say Joel or please or oh my god.

“Can feel it,” he grunts breathlessly, skin smacking against yours in a sharp staccato beat. “Deep breath, baby, c’mon, let me have it.”

“Your teeth,” you gasp feverishly. “Bite me again.”

“Fuck,” he snarls and then he’s grating the hard line of his incisors along your shoulder.

The sweet pinch of his canines digging into your back sets your cunt aflutter around him, mouth hung open in silent ecstasy as he fucks you full of his seed and you suck it in deep, tight with longing, still panting and high when it begins to drip from where you’re connected, spooling around his cock and smearing between your thighs and his.

His chest heaves against your back. Chest hair damp wet sweat, dripping through your thin shirt until it can’t decide whether to cling to his skin or yours. There’s an ache at the base of your spine, maybe a muscle pulled, and his thumb presses into the flesh there as if he can sense it.

Sounds come back slowly. Joni’s finished and the needle tracks around the runout groove on the record, a little crackle flaring every few seconds where the two channels join. Joel’s breathing too, rough against your shoulder, harmonising with the wet sound of his lips peeling from your skin.

You tilt your head to the side.

Wild eyed, cunt-struck, Joel knocks his nose against yours. Groans low when you flick your tongue out to graze across his bottom lip. He’s bitten it rough and ragged and red, and you want to soothe the sting. His glasses are on top of his head, smudged lenses tucked amidst wild fluffy curls.

You try to kiss him, hard and wet, but he stops you with a hand to your jaw. Cradles your face and strokes your cheekbone and wipes the spittle from your lips before kissing you lightly. Chaste and gentle, like the two of you are ten and have never kissed anyone before, have never been brave enough to use your tongues.

That invisible bleed in your chest drips heavier. You picture a thick spurt of red against your chest cavity as he kisses the corners of your mouth, the tip of your nose, your eyelids.

“You good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, smiling when his lips catch and drag across your skin with the movement of your head.

A moment passes like this. Searching kisses dotted over your smiling face. The swell of your cheeks, the ends of your eyebrows.

“Sometimes I feel like you aren’t real,” Joel confesses. A bare bones whisper that tickles the skin between your eyebrows, where his lips rest now. “Like you might just melt away if I don’t hold on tight enough. Disappear if I look away too long, and I’ll be stuck tryna convince myself that you were ever really here.”

Twisted up in his arms, you can feel the way his heart batters against his chest, thrashing through to vibrate against your back. He might as well be plucking the admission straight from your own mouth.

“I’m real,” you murmur against his neck. “I’m here, it’s real.”

“Me too,” he says. Something wet tickles your skin, but it’s gone in a second. Rubbed over by his thumb, soothed with another kiss.

I love you, you think, but when you speak it comes out as, “No melting.”

Joel laughs softly. Kisses you again. “No melting.”

Thursday.

“It was too much.”

“It was fine.”

“I said the word grateful three times.”

“Four, actually.” You chew the inside of your cheek and shrug apologetically. “I counted.”

“Jesus,” Joel sighs, reaching up to a drag a hand over his face.

He’s pulled his desk chair all the way across the office. Tie loosened and top buttons undone, he slumps in it a little. His thick knees almost brush against yours where you sit in his armchair.

“Hey, I liked it,” you smile, bumping his knee. “It was nice - shows you care.”

“Well, you ain’t all that hard to please,” Joel smarts, lip quirking up into a sly grin.

Mouth open in a scoff, you feign offence, dragging your laptop from your satchel and making a show of ignoring him.

“How the mighty fall,” he continues, sighing dramatically and tilting his head over the back of the chair. The light coming in through the window hits his face just right, and the grey hairs in his curls shine. “Grateful to have been your professor… asshole.”

“Don’t be precious,” you laugh softly. “You’re just embarrassed because you said you were going to miss us.”

“That was a lie,” Joel tuts, brushing you off with a hand in the air, biting back that grin. “I ain’t gon’ miss any of you assholes. And when those final papers come in—” He taps a finger against the top of your laptop “—I’ll be sayin’ my prayers that any of you can string a worthwhile sentence together.”

“If you’re lucky,” you drawl, batting his hand away. “You’ll teach some of us again next year. And when that semester finishes, you’ll say all of that shit again, because you’re a sap, Joel Miller.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, face softening, and then clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Smart ass.”

“And you love it,” you quip easily, only balking a moment later when the word hangs awkwardly in the air. Hands pausing on your keyboard, you glance up, neck hot, only to find Joel watching you still. Face suspended in a small smile; eyes light as he nods.

“I do,” he says after a moment. “But you’re on thin ice, wise guy.”

He plucks a book from his desk and spreads it open on his lap, either not noticing or simply not caring as you watch on, slack jawed. I do.

After a moment, Joel taps his foot against yours again. “Write.”

So, sucking in a breath, you do. Time passes and rain starts to drizzle against the window as you write, and Joel reads. Having forgotten to put a record on like normal, he hums lightly under his breath; some tune you can’t place but still nod along to. Every few minutes he turns his page, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

You hate the way he holds books. Hate the way he cradles the spines, thumb hooked around the footnotes to hold his page. Hate the way his fingers trace the stanzas as he reads, tender and patient, and always afraid to miss something. Hate most the way the tendons on the backs of his hands flex when he turns the page. How the veins around them go fat and blue the longer he does this, as if all the blood in his body is sprinting towards the words. It’s a dangerous sort of eroticism, watching him read. You hate how much you love it.

In need of reprieve, you focus on your own hands. Crack tired knuckles and stretch out cramps and aches, taking a moment to peer over at his desk. The picture frame you’d once been so curious about is propped on the edge of it once again.

You can see Joel behind the glass panel, sporting a shit-eating grin with Sarah, clad in a graduation gown, tucked proudly against his chest. Taken the day she finished high school, you know now. And you’d never noticed it that first time, months ago, but Ellie’s face rests in the corner of the picture. Pink tongue stuck out and eyes pinched shut; she’d snuck her head into the frame at the last second apparently.

You gaze fondly at it, and feel that familiar warmth in your chest over the fact that he’s put it back out. No more hiding.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Joel glances over his shoulder, and then smiles.

“It’s a good photo,” you say. “You look so happy there.”

“I was. It’s one of my favourites,” he nods, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He seems to consider you for a moment, eyes flicking around your face, fingers fidgeting with the corner of his page. “Hey, I uh… Sarah actually called yesterday.”

He pauses. Takes an unusually deep breath and folds the book shut.

“Okay.” You blink, confused. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah.” He nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, she was uh, she was askin’ about the holidays, and if—”

The office door creaks open, and Joel’s mouth seals shut as Rachel walks hastily inside, rushed words filling the small room.

“Joel, sorry, I need to grab—oh.”

There’s an odd pause after the words catch in her throat. A moment of uncomfortable stillness as the three of you inhale all at once, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

You and Joel aren’t touching, but your knees rest close, one of his feet in the space between yours on the carpet. Laptop propped on your knees, your final essay still lays open with a stream of edits pasted through the margins, cursor blinking at the end of the word nostos.

Joel, tie undone and sleeves rolled up, looks painfully casual in your presence.

“Sorry.” Rachel blinks, hovering awkwardly as the door clicks shut behind her. “I didn’t realise you had a… a meeting today?” The end of her sentence flares up, as if she’s confused, phrasing it like a dubious little question.

You offer a smile in her direction and hope it comes across as relaxed, a little encroaching even; as if you are the one who has interrupted; the one who should not be here.

“It’s fine,” Joel supplies easily, straightening in his chair to give her his full attention. His face gives nothing away. Stoic and calm, the way you’d imagine him to be if you weren’t here at all. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” she says, frowning like she’s affronted by the question. Looks between the two of you again, listless fingers curling at her sides. “Just came to get that Livy copy back

You look back at your screen and will yourself to type something. To appear casual, studious, as if your heart isn’t lodged in the base of your throat.

“Sure,” he nods, gesturing vaguely toward his desk. “It’s in one of the drawers on the left.”

Rachel nods, walking over to the desk, and as her back turns you spare a glance at Joel. Find him already looking at you, eyebrows pulled down a little. Pink lips mouth It’s fine, married with a soft nod of his head, and for the second time in seconds you attempt a smile.

There’s the sound of wood sliding against wood, and then a soft, tired kind of silence. The lack of sound seems to swell, the air in the room thinning, your eyes focusing on Joel’s fingers on the armrest of his chair, tap tap tap, Rachel’s unruly curls somewhere past that, her face downturned, looking at something. Wary breaths held in unison, synced heart beats racing. It’s fine, it’s fine, no melting.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Your head snaps up. Joel turns in his chair and begins to ask what’s wrong, but all that ends up coming from him is a sort of choked noise, rough around the edges, and breathless in the middle. Chest on fire, you let yourself look past him to where she stands.

Her gaze is hard as she stares Joel down from across the room. A slip of blue; soft material visible between her fingers, held up for a stunned chorus to see.

Your hearing deafens a little as you look on, motionless, a vague memory of birthday boy and got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock? playing in your mind. Of a damp patch on his shirt as he tucked blue into his desk drawer.

Joel says Rachel’s name, you think. Can see the way his jaw moves, the way her dark eyes sharpen, flitting back and forth between the two of you. And then, like a volcanic eruption or the swell beneath a wave, realisation crests the hill and It’s fine cracks and crumbles and turns to dust in your grasp. You don’t know what she knows, or how she knows, you just know that she does.

“You… what is this?” Rachel’s face shifts into something uncomfortable. A warped, grotesque shot at a smile. But as her lips curl upward, eyebrows down, it’s nothing but a contorted mess that blurs endlessly between confusion, surprise, and then horror. “This… her? She’s the reason you—”

“Rachel.” Joel’s entire body is wound tight. You can see the edge of his jaw from where you sit; the way his shoulders pull back, tight he watches her.

Your body seems to hold itself together for a moment. Breath caught on an inhale, lungs expanded, eyes frozen on the hard line of his nose, the arm of his glasses—places you feel safe to hover. But then she speaks again, and everything lurches back into focus. Like a needle scratching on a record, or tires squealing as a car pulls to an abrupt stop at a red—the words make you cringe, chest deflating and face crumpling.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” she’s saying, and her voice raises, louder to match the disbelief in her tone. “You… she’s a fucking student.”

When the fear hits it doesn’t come slowly. It strikes hard and solid; an icy sheet of dread that sucks at your fingers and numbs your extremities. Cool and abrupt, it sinks to your bones and promises that you’ll never again feel anything but this. It laughs in the face of your warm kind month, pressing its chilled ice picks to the back of your eyes until they burn.

Her words hang heavy in the air, thick weights that press down on three sets of shoulders, and you have never wanted anything the way you want to see Joel’s face right now. To look at him and believe that this isn’t as bad as you know it to be. See that mouth tell you it’s fine and remember how it tastes.

Instead, a fear-stricken Orpheus, you will yourself not to look at him. Despite that longing, the way your arms beg to stretch out, to hold and be held, you do not look. No, you don’t think you could suffer the double death of both knowing this is happening and seeing him know it too.

In his place, you let your eyes turn to Rachel, and find that she already stares at you, small mouth cracked ajar in incredulity.

Mind whirring, racing, stumbling; fumbling to pin back together the pieces of who you once were in her eyes and who you are now. This woman you admire so, whose career path you’ve dreamt of, whose wit and quirk has propelled you, invigorated you.

It’s agonising to watch—the way her face morphs into something so unfamiliar as she looks at you now. An expression that once held only admiration, kindness, marred here by an inexplicable sense of pity. Not hate, or contempt, which perhaps would be easier to handle. Easier than the way those dark orbs go round and solemn with worry as they fall upon your anguished frame. It’s a slap in the face; camaraderie washed down the drain like the dregs of a long overdue bath, as she grips your soiled underwear in her fist.

Joel says her name, you’ve lost count of how many times he’s said it now, and she spurns his attempt at placation like a snake. Fast and deadly, venom dribbling from her tongue.

“Someone else?” she says, and her voice is like never before. Mirthless and cold, fury laced through every word. With a sharp jerk of her elbow, she tosses the underwear across the room. They land against Joel’s chest, caught silently in his fist. “You’re fucking sick.”

“This isn’t what you think it is—” Joel starts, and you think you hear his voice shake.

“It isn’t?” She laughs cruelly at that. “You haven’t been sleeping with one of our students?”

The cursor blinks on your screen. Nostos, nostos, nostos, nostos.

“Listen, can we talk about this somewhere else?” he asks. “Not like this, I—”

“Oh, is this not a convenient time for you?” she scowls. “Jesus Christ.”

The urge to speak bubbles in your chest. You don’t even know what you’re going to say until the words are spilling from your lips, disjointed and warbled, a voice that doesn’t even sound like your own.

“I pursued him,” you say.

You can feel them looking at you. Can hear the way you must sound to her, like some kid and not a woman who’s almost thirty years old and just as much to blame. But you can’t stop it.

“We’re both adults. He never made me do anything I didn’t—”

Joel says your name sharply. His fist, in the periphery of your downturned gaze, grips your balled up underwear so tight that the blue is entirely invisible within the thick masts of his fingers.

You suck in a breath, and it feels like the last bit of air in the room disappears into your lungs, so you hold it there. Keep it safe inside and figure that if all three of you were to suffocate then at least the truth, and all the foul consequences that come with it, would die here with you.

“Can you give us a minute?”

Silence falls in the lull after those words, and it takes a moment for you to look up, finally. To realise that the double death wasn’t in looking at Joel, but in understanding that he’d spoken these words to you, not her.

Eyes locked with his, you feel the fear move to your side. Hang low until it ebbs and flows in the space beneath your ribs—a sharp ache with no end in sight. He looks tired; resigned. Mouth thin and downturned, cheeks splashed with red.

You think you must say something. Some fumbling, awkward acknowledgement, because Rachel is giving you that look again and you can’t bear it. Can’t stand those eyes, that misplaced pity.

You collect your things, hands numb as you pile them into your bag and head for the door, skin prickling in defence against the silence that follows your movements.

Outside his office, alone in the long corridor, you know you should go. Should follow the wall down the stairs, out to your car, and not look back. Can you give us a minute? But that sharp ache leaves you cowering against the wall, limbs heavy, ear to his door.

“Rach,” Joel says softly, and it’s so familiar that your stomach rolls, lids fluttering closed. “It isn’t what you think, just let me explain, alright? We met before the term began; before she was my student. Before.”

“And then?”

“What?”

“I said, and then?” Rachel’s voice is steely. “You met her before and, what, you saw her in class and decided it was fine to let it continue? You—”

“Everything was consensual. You know me, I would never—”

“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it. Did you not think about what would happen if you were found out? Her credibility will be destroyed, Joel.”

“I know—”

“I mean for fucksake, her first major presentation was given at a conference where you were the keynote speaker. How do you think this will look?”

“Fuck, I know. Can you keep your voice down, please.”

There’s a brief silence. You hear shuffling, feet against carpet, and a dull spike of fear flares in the back of your mind. The idea of getting caught a second time, eavesdropping from outside the door. Against better judgement, you don’t move, and Rachel speaks again.

“You’re wrong,” she says. “I don’t know you. I… you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

You don’t hear Joel’s response over the drumming in your ears. Hot blood thrashes and roars inside your body, veins pounding with terror. Hands shake damp and weary at your sides, thinking hard, hard, grasping for solution, for the chance to say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is my fault.

But he must have said something because then you hear it. A low fragment of a human voice, words spoken clear as day. They slice through your ears and have you peeling away from the door, swallowed by a white-hot longing to disappear as you stumble down the hall, the stairs, until you’re sucking in cold air on the pavement outside.

It’s raining hard now. Thin spray that comes at you sideways, lashing at your face and blinding you. You curl your back to the downpour and search thoughtlessly for your car, hands outstretched, those words of hers ricocheting off the inside of your skull.

When you find it, you press your key into the door and slump inside, and you still can’t avoid it. She might as well be standing right by the door, peering in at you. Shock in the jut of her brow, disappointment in the slant of her mouth as she whispers those words over and over through the crack in your window.

"I don’t care if you love her, Joel. I have to report you.”

refs:

joni mitchell's 1971 Blue album. [life changer]

the hollow men by t. s. elliot [fat juicy banger of a poem]

orpheus and eurydice from metamorphoses by ovid, tr. by a. d. melville

thank you for reading x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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joelscruff · 1 year

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one day i'll feel alright (joel miller x reader) 18+

here it is... the Big One. i've been hyping up this part of my soft!dom joel series for a while now (probably too much, i'm sorry) but i'm so excited to finally share it with you guys. i just wanna note that this is not the end of soft!dom joel by any means. i wanna keep writing for these two as long as i can, just probably nothing else as long as this lmao 💖 enjoy! | masterlist summary: joel must finally face his demons when you don't return from patrol. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fem!reader, age difference (reader is mid 20s, joel mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), hurt/comfort, angst, praise kink, dirty talk, bathing together, oral (both f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, size kink, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, yall this one is SO filthy be warned word count: 15k | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major (joel does NOT go golfing in this fic).

The patrol schedule is posted on Monday morning outside the community center and you're one of the first people to look at it, eyes frantically scanning for your name as your heart pounds in your chest. There's no way, you think to yourself, still searching, He wouldn't actually talk to Tommy about a schedule change.

You finally find your name and feel those annoyingly familiar angry tears begin to burn in your eyes.

"Fuck you," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head, "Fuck you, Joel."

You're no longer his patrol partner.

You briefly consider going to his house, pounding on his door until he answers and screaming in his face about how ridiculous and immature he's being, but you realize that doing so would make you just as immature. Instead, you just decide to pretend it never happened, like you never patrolled with him to begin with.

"Steve is nice," one of your friends says to you later, "I like him, you'll get along."

Who the fuck is Steve? you want to ask, but then remember that it's his name that has replaced Joel's on the schedule. To make matters even worse, you're no longer going up to the ski lodge and are instead going out past the perimeter, a patrol location known to encounter raiders pretty often. Fantastic.

The next time you see him is that night in the dining hall, sitting in his usual corner by himself and gulping down bites of chili like he hasn't eaten in weeks. It used to be endearing, those big bites, now it just pisses you off.

He doesn't look at you. Over the past few weeks you'd grown accustomed to him peering over at you every so often, giving you small smiles to acknowledge that he saw you and remembered what the two of you shared every weekend. Neither of you would talk about it; it was private and belonged on the mountain, which you were fine with. At least he'd give you those looks, those smiles, and remind you that you were his pretty girl, his little secret.

Now his lack of acknowledgement, his purposeful ignorance of your presence, it makes you feel sick. You end up having to excuse yourself before you do something you'll regret. Like punch someone.

Steve is nice, but that's your first immediate problem with him. He's too nice. He talks too much, constantly trying to fill a silence that doesn't need it, asks you way too many questions and doesn't seem even vaguely put-out when you give him the most basic possible answers. He's young, probably in his mid-thirties, and you find yourself desperately missing the long and comfortable silences you shared with Joel, his gruff sighs, his breathy chuckles, his music, his books, his age. You realize pretty quickly that you view Steve as a boy and not a man, despite him being older than you. Internally, you tell yourself you need to get a grip.

Your new patrol location isn't as bad as you'd first thought; you're stationed in an abandoned cabin in a wooded area past the perimeter. It's cozy and inviting, kind of reminds you of the ski lodge, which quickly makes you feel depressed. You both take turns circling the area - although at first Steve had suggested you do it together; you'd vetoed that immediately. Your main responsibilities are checking traps and watching out for infected. It's actually a bit more engaging than your previous patrol which you feel slightly grateful for; it's nice to feel busy. And to shut your thoughts up.

At the end of your first patrol with Steve you both walk back to Jackson together in the early morning, him still continuing to chat and tell you things about himself regardless of whether you respond. You're almost back to town when you notice that you're suddenly on the same path you and Joel used to take, the one that leads up to the mountain. You stop in your tracks.

"What time is it?" you ask, interrupting whatever Steve had been prattling on about.

He looks down at his watch, "Almost six," he smiles at you, "We'll be back just in time for breakfast."

Almost six; around the time you and Joel would usually be reaching the bottom of the mountain. Your eyes scan the tree line, brow furrowing as you search for any sign of him making his way down the path. Steve stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something.

"Should we...?" he gestures toward the path you're both on, toward town, and you bite your lip in thought.

"Just gimme a sec," you say quickly, still searching, "I wanna say hi to my old patrol partner."

"Aw, that's sweet," he says with a smile, and it's so earnest and endearing that you can't necessarily be annoyed, "My old patrol partner, we-" he starts chatting again, buying you some more time.

Not more than a moment later, two figures suddenly emerge from the trees: Joel and Tommy. You feel your heart start to pound as they walk down the path, neither seeing you and Steve standing there until they're almost directly in front of you. They're caught up in some kind of deep conversation, you might even call it an argument judging by Tommy's stiffness and Joel's flared nostrils.

Tommy sees you first, giving you a wave and a smile, then nudging Joel. Joel follows Tommy's eyeline and suddenly freezes in his tracks, standing still on the path while Tommy continues to approach you.

"Good patrol?" he asks, nodding to Steve, "No trouble?"

"No, sir," Steve says, eager and polite, kind of like a golden retriever puppy, "No problems whatsoever."

"Glad to hear it," he looks at you again, "Hey, mind if we meet later for a chat?"

You wonder if he wants to chat about whatever he'd just been arguing about with Joel. Intrigued, you nod, "Sure."

Joel reaches you then, pace slow and hesitant. You turn to look at him, trying not to let the anger you feel toward him completely overtake you; the last thing you need right now is to either start crying or yelling.

"Hey," you say with a stiff nod.

"Hi!" Steve says beside you, and you try not to wince as he puts his hand out, waiting for Joel to take it, "I'm Steve."

Joel simply stares at him, then his hand, and then looks at you, eyes dark and cold. His gaze slips between the two of you back and forth for a few seconds, expression unreadable, then continues down the path without speaking.

"Meet me by the stream 'round noon, alright?" Tommy says, backing away to follow Joel, "I'll bring you lunch."

You watch as he catches up to Joel, says something to him, but Joel doesn't respond and just keeps on walking ahead, pace quicker and quicker. You're still just standing there watching their forms get smaller when Steve finally speaks again:

"He's...uh...friendly."

You laugh without humor, hitching your pack up your shoulder and starting to walk, "Oh, you have no idea."

You meet Tommy around noon by the stream like he'd asked, crossing the bridge and giving him a small wave of acknowledgement as you approach. He's got a paper bag with him; lunch, just like he'd promised.

"Tuna fish," he says with a kind smile, chuckling at the face you make as he hands the bag to you, "It was either that or egg salad."

"The dining hall must stink today," you reply with a scrunch of your nose, but you take the bag gratefully, "Thanks, Tommy."

"No problem," he gestures toward the bench he's sitting on, inviting you to join him, "Let's talk."

He talks and you mainly listen, nodding along every so often and chewing your tuna sandwich thoughtfully. He starts by thanking you for "everything" you did for him and Maria, which you quickly dodge because all you'd done is take a patrol off his hands - a patrol that's gone back to being his again, but he doesn't mention that part. He talks about how big a help you've been, how he's glad you're here, all the basic stuff he's already told you before. You're almost done your sandwich when you realize he's talking complete bullshit.

"Tommy," you say, balling the paper bag up and shoving it into your pocket, "If you wanna talk about Joel, just do it."

He freezes, recognition dawning in his eyes as he sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It's a habit he and Joel share, and you can't help but feel an ache in your heart when the image of Joel doing the same thing crosses your mind.

"I'm sorry about the switch," he finally says with a deep sigh, "Joel told me to do it. Not asked, told. He was pretty obstinate, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there."

The words sting, even coming from Tommy. You swallow the last of your sandwich and cast your eyes down to the stream, watching the water ebb and flow as Tommy continues to speak.

"I just want you know that if I had it my way, you'd still be up there with him," he says it earnestly, and you understand now why he'd led with all the compliments and reassurances; he'd thought you didn't know why you'd been switched.

"I know," you say quietly, "Tommy, I know it was Joel's idea. He told me last patrol that he was gonna ask you to take me off ski lodge."

"But why?" he sounds genuinely confused, "It was working so well, Maria and I thought you had a great thing goin'."

You nod slowly, refusing to look at him, "We did. But I guess he never told you any details?"

You sense him shake his head beside you, "No, I spent almost the whole patrol trying to get him to talk about it and he wouldn't. Just kept saying it wouldn't work anymore and that he wasn't gonna say anythin' else about it. Stubborn, my brother. Always has been."

I know, you want to say, believe me, I know.

"So I figured I'd ask you."

You finally look over at him then, "There's not much to say, Tommy."

"But there's somethin'," he leans forward, looking concerned, "I know my brother, I know when he's hidin' somethin'. There's somethin' he's not telling me and I want you to tell me 'cause otherwise I'm just gonna assume the worst."

"Which is...?"

He sighs, leaning back against the bench again, "I don't even know."

You touch the back of your neck awkwardly, trying to decide how to word it. There's absolutely no way you're giving him all the details - or any details for that matter - but you do owe him some kind of explanation considering he's now losing his free time again over this.

"Me and Joel, we..." you bite your lip, "We had...." you sigh and shake your head, "Okay, what I'm about to say does not leave this bench, Tommy. You can tell Maria but that's it."

"Oh shit," he says, eyes going wide, "Were y'all fuckin' up there?"

You groan, leaning forward as your arms fall to your knees and you cover your face with your hands. He's not necessarily correct, but somehow the reality is much more embarrassing to admit. You don't say anything in response, confirming his suspicions.

"Jesus Christ," he says, voice full of genuine surprise, "I was...holy shit, I was not expectin' that."

"Anyway," you say into your hands, skin turning bright red beneath your fingertips, "It's over now and he doesn't want me up there with him anymore, that's all you need to know, okay?"

"Yeah," Tommy says immediately, "Yeah, sure, of course. I wouldn't dream of -" he makes a weird noise, "God, I did not think that's what was goin' on."

"Sorry," you wince, pulling your hands away and sitting up again to look at him. He looks genuinely uncomfortable, arms crossed as he shifts next to you on the bench, cogs turning in his mind. He's probably thinking about what exactly the two of you have been doing up there when you're supposed to be patrolling and the very thought makes both of you cringe simultaneously.

"No, don't apologize, I asked," he shakes his head again, eyes still wide, "I, uh, I won't tell anybody, no worries."

"You can tell Maria," you reiterate, "I don't want you keeping anything from your wife."

"I'll tell her but I doubt she'll believe me," he's staring ahead, still in shock, "You? With Joel? I'm sorry but..." he laughs loudly, still shaking his head, "I didn't think my brother had it in him."

You make a face and stand up, "Okay, that's my cue to leave."

"No, sorry, I'll leave," he stands up as well and digs his hands down into his pockets awkwardly, "I'll uh... be at the bar, if you need me."

He goes to cross the bridge but stops halfway, turning slowly and giving you one last kind and gentle look, apologetic.

"Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out," he says, and you can tell he means it, "You're real sweet, my brother's just an ass."

"I know," you say with a small nod, "You did warn me."

"I did," he says it sadly, looking down at the stream, "He has his reasons, though. Maybe he'll tell you one day."

"Maybe."

He turns back around and walks away, leaving you standing there alone by the stream with an ache in your heart that won't go away.

He was pretty obstinate, Tommy's words echo in your head, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there.

You stare at the steady flowing water and try not to think about how much it hurts to know he really said that to Tommy. Is that how little you mean to him? How little what the two of you shared meant? You've known the whole time that it wasn't a "real" relationship, you haven't even kissed him for god's sake, but it was a relationship nonetheless. A little weird, a little timid, but soft and new and safe and warm. And all along you'd just been a distraction for him.

In the deepest parts of yourself you've known this all along, remembered how many times in the past few weeks he said that it would be the last time, that he couldn't do it anymore, and you'd just continued to persist and persist until he'd finally had enough. You hadn't really thought he'd end it, didn't think he really meant it.

The tears start flowing before you can stop them. You continue to just stand there dejectedly, staring at the water and trying to figure out what exactly it is about you that made him simply stop caring - if he even cared to begin with.

A rustle of branches makes you jump and your head snaps up, looking toward the sound. A short distance away you catch a bush moving in an unnatural sort of way, shaking back and forth like someone had been watching from behind it. Quickly, you dash forward and pull the leaves apart to find the culprit.

No one's there.

Hurriedly you wipe your face and walk across the bridge, shoving your hands back in your pockets and hoping someone hasn't just witnessed your moment of weakness. And if they have, they'd better keep it to themselves.

Another week passes without any acknowledgement from Joel. You decide to stop eating in the dining hall because it hurts too much, instead grabbing your meals to-go and eating them either in your house or by the stream. On one occasion you'd arrived at the stream at the same time Ellie had decided to sit and practice guitar, freezing in place when you saw her. You hadn't spoken since that one very brief conversation months ago when she'd asked about your scars. You hadn't known then what you know now.

"Hey," she'd said with a nod, then went back to strumming aimlessly on her guitar, "You can eat your lunch here, I don't mind."

You'd shaken your head and taken a step back, "No, that's okay, sorry," then you'd turned and practically run away from her, not entirely sure why.

She reminds you of Joel, you dummy, you'd thought to yourself on the walk back home, biting down on your lip and trying to keep the tears at bay this time. Everything reminds you of Joel.

On Saturday morning you hear a knock at your door. You're still in bed, confused and bleary eyed as you sit up and wait to hear it again, just to be sure you're not still dreaming. When you hear a second series of knocks you practically tumble out of the bed and run downstairs, blanket trailing behind you as you dart to the front door.

It's Joel, it has to be Joel, he's here to apologize, he's gonna kiss you and tell you he's sorry.

You yank open the door and feel your face fall immediately when you see none other than Steve standing there, hands on his hips. He grins at you but it falters slightly when he looks down and sees that you're still in your pajamas.

"Morning, sleepy head," he greets you, reaching forward to playfully bump your arm with his fist, "Looks like someone missed their alarm."

You stare at him, vision still slightly blurred from sleep. You reach up to rub your eyes so you can see him clearer, make sure he's actually standing there in front of you. Yup, he is.

You force yourself to smile back - something which takes a lot of effort but he seems to find genuine - and reply, "My bad, I guess I did."

"No worries," he says with another wide grin, "We got some time before we need to leave, no rush!"

You force one last smile and shut the door in his face, trying not to slam it - even though you really want to. You look at the clock on the wall over your fireplace and make a face: 4:30. He woke you up at 4:30, half an hour before your alarm.

"Steve, I swear to god," you grumble to yourself, heading for the bathroom as you drop your blanket to the floor and clamor back up the stairs; there's no point in going back to sleep, you're wide awake now and pissed.

You know who'd never do this? Joel.

After a shower and a quick bowl of cereal you head back out to meet Steve, prepared to put on your best everything is great impression again. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you open your door.

"Listen, sir, I think you should leave," Steve is saying, voice cracking slightly as he talks to the figure in front of him.

It's still dark outside; the sun hasn't come up yet and everything is muted and hard to make out. It takes you a few seconds to figure out who Steve is talking to, the figure shrouded in shadow and half hidden behind Steve's tall form. You feel your face go pale when you hear him reply.

"You didn't answer my question," the growl is unmistakably Joel's and you grip the edge of the door in your hands tightly, not opening it all the way as you eavesdrop. What the fuck is he doing here? What question?

"I don't think I owe you a reply," Steve replies, attempting to stand his ground but sounding pretty pathetic, voice shaky and high, "I think you should move along, sir."

"What the fuck are you doing at this girl's house at four in the fucking morning?" Joel practically spits, taking a step toward Steve. In response, Steve takes a step backward. He's not a confrontational guy, you know that from the one patrol you've spent with him, "Answer me."

"I'm her patrol partner," Steve finally says, putting his hands up in defeat, "I'm waiting for her to get ready."

"Patrols don't start 'til five thirty."

"It's true, I swear, you literally met me last week!"

That seems to stump Joel, and he must be trying to figure out what to say next when you shove the door open and walk out onto your porch.

"Joel, what the fuck are you doing?" you ask, voice steady and firm. He looks over at you in surprise, backing away from Steve. Is it just your imagination or did his expression soften when he saw you? But that doesn't matter now.

You walk down the steps of your patio and stand in front of Steve, shoving him behind you lightly, "Steve, I'll meet you at the gate," you say firmly.

"But-"

"Steve. Please leave. I'll meet you in a few minutes."

"...Okay," you can't see him but you hear him walk away from you, trudging down the gravel path in the opposite direction. Once his footsteps are faint enough, you finally address Joel again.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you repeat, "Why are you berating Steve in front of my house?"

"Who the fuck is Steve?" Joel asks; the question of the hour.

"My patrol partner," you reply, shaking your head, "I mean, you should probably know that seeing as you're the one who switched with him."

"I don't know who I switched with, Tommy did that," he retorts, looking away from you, down at his boots, "Wasn't my decision."

"Right, 'cause nothing's ever your fault, right?"

He looks back up, a glint of emotion in his eyes that you've seen only once before, "You have no fucking idea," he says, voice heavy and gruff, "Don't even-"

"Don't even what, Joel? You're the one standing in front of my house at the ass crack of dawn yelling at some guy you've never even talked to before. Steve's actually great, by the way," you're laying it on thick but you don't care; you want him to think you've moved on, "Patrolling with him is much better than patrolling with you."

He raises an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," you lie, cheeks going red with anger, "He actually talks to me."

"And fucks you, I gather?" he says it with a hard edge that makes your blood run cold.

You stand there just staring at him, mouth agape as he lets what he just said wash over you. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling those godforsaken tears sting in your eyes as you take a step away from him, genuinely fearful that you might end up slapping him or punching him or doing something you shouldn't.

"Fuck you," your voice is small and broken and the tears are already flowing, "Fuck you, Joel."

His expression changes then, and you know an apology is coming. You put your hand up before he can speak, shaking your head.

"Don't," you say, firm and solid, not bothering to wipe your tears as they flick off your face into the grass below, "We're done." You turn on your heel and stomp away from him, feeling a sob wrack through you as you cross your arms and speed walk to the main gate where you know Steve is waiting.

Joel doesn't follow you.

Steve knows better than to question you about what happened. As soon as you'd approached him at the gate he'd seen your tears and the shake of your head when he'd opened his mouth to say something. Ten minutes later you were on your way out to the cabin again without either of you saying a word.

Now you're back on patrol with an aching heart and a huge lump in your throat that won't go away no matter what you do, trailing the perimeter back and forth with your head hung and eyes downcast. Joel's words repeat over and over in your head like a curse, damning you into a feeling of guilt that you don't think you really deserve. You haven't done shit with Steve, the assumption that you'd just immediately moved on from your sexual relationship with Joel to another man makes your blood boil. Who the fuck does he think you are?

Do you really even know him? This whole time he's remained so secretive and aloof, mysterious and cryptic. You hadn't pushed him to reveal more about himself, hoping eventually he'd open up to you, but he never did. Just kept you on a short leash with good girl and pretty girl and the way he'd look at you in those moments where you bared yourself to him.

But you're not much better, you remind yourself with a grimace, and you know it's true. You never told him much about yourself or your past. Yes, you would've, but you didn't. And you're the one who kept asking to get off with him, kept expecting more and being disappointed when he wouldn't give it to you even though he was clear about his boundaries.

"But that doesn't give him the right," you mutter to yourself, still walking through the muddy grass, deep in thought, "It doesn't make what he said okay."

No, it doesn't. But maybe he's hurting more than he lets on. Maybe this isn't as cut and dry for him as you'd thought. Why the fuck had he been snooping around your house so early this morning? He only lives a few houses down from you; had he seen Steve and felt he had to protect you? Does he actually care about you, as much as he tries to put on a front that it's only been sexual between you two and nothing more? Is that why he's been so distant?

You suddenly realize that you've gone much further than the perimeter, continuing to walk ahead instead of turning back and circling the area. You freeze, eyes scanning around as you try to discern exactly how far you've gone.

"Fuck," you mutter, turning around and starting to walk directly back the way you came, hoping it'll lead you right back to where you're meant to be.

It doesn't.

You'd been so lost in thought that somehow you've managed to lose the original path, the tall grass hiding any sign of your own footsteps. This is only your second time out here so nothing looks familiar; it's all grass and mud and trees and rocks. How long have you even been walking? Joel had once admonished you for not having a watch, said one day it was gonna bite you in the ass; you hate that he was right.

"Steve?" you call out, unsure if he'll be able to hear you since you don't know how far you've trailed from the cabin, "You there?"

No reply. You stop again and do another quick glance around, looking for anything that seems familiar to you. But no, this isn't the ski lodge perimeter where you'd grown accustomed to each tree, each stump, each rock. Nothing here is even vaguely telling you exactly where to turn.

You feel the dull throb of panic beneath the surface of your emotions but you quickly shove it down; you're good in situations like this, you've certainly been through enough shit to not get frightened over being a little lost. You've been lost before, you'll figure it out.

All the same, you keep track of the sun's location in the sky as you continue your directionless trek, noting that it's directly above you; noon. You have plenty of time before dark to find your way back, no sweat.

It must be around three o'clock when you finally make it back. Relief floods your entire body as you walk into the clearing and see the small wooden cabin sitting there still and picturesque, exactly how you'd left it. You bend down, closing your eyes and pressing your hands to your knees to take a few deep breaths and ground yourself. The panic had started to really settle in about an hour ago, but luckily it hadn't gotten to a point where you'd been too afraid to keep going.

"Steve," you say loudly, still breathing deeply, "I'm back."

No reply. You open your eyes again, heart still thumping in your chest as you eye the cabin for any sign of him. You walk over hesitantly, feeling a knot forming in your stomach when you open the front door and are greeted to a dark and empty cabin.

"Steve?" you say again, voice shaky.

No reply.

Fuck. He must have gone looking for you when you didn't come back to switch. Either that or he went back to Jackson, but you can't see a guy like Steve doing that. The way he'd stood up to Joel this morning, as embarrassing as it was, it had been enough to show you exactly what kind of man Steve is. He'd definitely gone to look for you. It's only fair that you do the same for him.

You grab a roll of twine from the cabin and start your search, making sure to mark the trees every now and then so you can find your way back again. You'd been advised in your patrol orientation not to do this because of raiders, but you doubt Tommy or Maria will give you shit for making sure you and Steve actually make it back to Jackson alive.

The thought makes the panic start to rise again, but you keep going.

You keep hoping you'll find some sign of Steve, but it's been about two hours and nothing has caught your eye. The twine is starting to run out and you fear you'll have to go back to Jackson without him, which will undoubtedly start a panic and a huge search party, all because you got a little distracted. This shit with Joel doesn't even matter anymore - you can't believe you let it affect you how it did. And now Steve is paying the price.

Another hour passes and you're preparing to turn back when you see it out of the corner of your eye. You freeze, hair standing up at the back of your neck when you look down to see shiny droplets of blood painting the grass.

You lean down instinctively, eyes wide, reaching forward to touch one of the many large red drops. It shivers beneath your finger, not yet fully dry. It's fresh.

Without hesitation you stand back up and pull your pistol out of its holster, cocking it and holding it steadily in front of you as you start to walk again. You have absolutely no idea what you're expecting to pop out at you; raiders? Infected? Or maybe Steve just cut himself somehow and you've taken your gun out for nothing.

A loud scream suddenly pierces the silence of the forest.

"STEVE!" you scream back, face going pale as you begin to sprint through the woods, gun still in front of you, "STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M COMING."

It's the last thing you say before you suddenly feel something tight grip your ankle and send you flying into the air, gun falling out of your hand. You find yourself completely upside down, entangled in a net.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You sway back and forth in the thick netting, trying to find your gun somewhere below you, but you quickly become much too dizzy to discern absolutely anything. You hear Steve's scream again, further away this time, and your blood runs cold. The panic takes over and you can't speak.

Please, you think to yourself, shutting your eyes tight and trying to keep the dizziness at bay, please don't let me die before I see him again.

It's not Steve you're thinking about.

It doesn't take long for the blood to rush to your head, for your body to go completely numb as you hang there upside down, completely alone. You pass out within minutes.

It's pitch black when you wake up.

You're no longer hanging from a tree in the forest, no longer tangled up in a net. Instead, you're lying on what feels like a concrete floor. Your head is pounding, lips dry and parched. Your whole body feels heavy and achy, so much so that you can barely move.

"She's awake," you hear a voice say somewhere close by; it's female and sounds familiar, but not enough for you to place it.

You hear the squeaky hinges of a door opening, then a few hushed whispers that you can't make out. The door shuts again and you swear you hear the sound of a deadbolt being locked in place.

"Where am I?" you finally whisper, voice rough and broken, "Let me go."

"You're in Jackson," the female voice replies, kind and gentle, "You're safe now."

"Who are you?" you can't bring yourself to open your eyes, unsure if this person is really telling you the truth.

"It's Ellie," the voice replies, and recognition dawns on you immediately, "Remember me?"

You nod slowly, wincing at the pain as you continue to lie there on the floor, "Y-yes."

"When you didn't come back this morning they sent out a search party. Tommy found you hanging in a tree, brought you back right away."

This morning? So you must have been hanging there all night. Jesus, no wonder you feel the way you do.

You finally open your eyes then, and are beyond relieved when your vision isn't dizzy and blurry like it had been before you'd passed out. You spot Ellie a few feet away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, peering down at you with a soft expression.

"Steve?" you whisper.

Her brow furrows, "They found him too. I don't know the details but he was hurt pretty bad," she shakes her head, "They're gonna do everything they can."

You nod again, swallowing and wincing at the dryness of your throat, "C-can I have some water?"

"Oh, fuck, of course," she reaches behind her and grabs a bottle, then walks over to you. Her movements are slow, hesitant, and when she hands you the bottle her arm darts out and back extremely quickly.

You stare at her in confusion, slowly bringing yourself to sit up. She backs away from you again, presses herself against the wall and crosses her arms again. It's like she's feigning nonchalance.

Reality dawns on you.

"Am I bit?" you manage to whisper, clutching the water bottle tightly.

She swallows, looks directly in your eyes, "We're hoping you can answer that for us."

You slowly bring the water to your lips, mind racing. You try to remember anything beyond getting caught up in the net but there's absolutely nothing. If you'd been bit afterward, wouldn't it have woken you up? Wouldn't you feel the pain somewhere on you now?

You drink the entire bottle of water and place it next to you on the floor, then you begin to feel your body, placing your hands back and forth all over yourself and trying to find a particular spot that feels like it might have been bit. You come up blank; all that you feel is a steady ache from being numb for so long.

"I don't think so," you finally say, crossing your legs and bringing your hands to rest in front of you, "I feel okay."

"We only found you about two hours ago," she says softly, "So we weren't sure. This is where they keep people for observation, people who might be infected."

You assess your surroundings. You must be in some kind of shed; it's small and there's no furniture, only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. If you'd woken up alone you probably would've thought you'd been kidnapped. Your brow furrows and you look over at Ellie in confusion.

"If I might be bit, why are they keeping you in here with me?" you ask, bewildered, "It's not safe for you."

Ellie kicks her heel and shrugs, "I don't know, they just thought you shouldn't be alone when you woke up."

She's lying and you don't know why, but you don't have the energy to press her further. What's important is that you're not alone, and you appreciate that. You watch as she inhales deeply, lost in thought, then brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezes. Just like Joel.

Joel.

"Does he know?" you suddenly whisper.

You didn't say his name but she clearly knows who you're talking about. She sets her lips in a firm line, "Yeah."

You place your head in your hands and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes tight. You suddenly feel like you want to cry, just at the thought of that big, broad, grumpy man being told that you didn't come back from patrol. Had he been upset? Annoyed? Angry? Scared?

"He's freaking out," Ellie answers for you, voice quiet, "He punched Tommy in the face."

"What?" you stare at her, eyes wide, "Why'd he do that?"

She laughs softly to herself, shaking her head, "Tommy wouldn't let him go with the search party."

Your face scrunches in confusion, "Why not?"

She looks away from you then, eyeing the closed door, "Because Tommy thought his feelings would get in the way," her voice is slightly shaky, like she might cry, "He thought if they found you dead, Joel might not come back, might try to find the motherfuckers who did it and make them pay."

You're already shaking your head, "That's dumb, he wouldn't do that."

Ellie laughs again, turning back to look at you, "You really don't know anything about Joel, do you?"

You stare, waiting for her to speak again. She adjusts her position, slowly sliding down the wall and sitting across from you with her knees pulled up against her chest.

"Joel's killed a lot of people," she says quietly, looking over at you with tired eyes, "I mean, a lot of us have, I'm sure you have too. We've all done shit we're not proud of," she thumbs a tear on her jeans, biting down on her lip, "But when it comes to the people he cares about... Joel doesn't do things halfway, never."

You swallow, "Ellie, I don't think Joel cares about me in the way you're thinking."

She smiles then, small and hesitant, but still a smile, "As I said, you don't really know much about him. Not like I do."

"But-"

She puts a hand up, "I know about the two of you. I overheard you and Tommy talking last week."

You remember that afternoon by the stream, the rustle of the bushes, when you'd pulled the branches back expecting to see someone but found nobody there.

"That was you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, "By the stream?"

She nods, "I showed up to play my guitar and you guys were already there talking. I wasn't gonna listen but then I heard Joel's name and..." she sighs, looking down at her knees, "I might not be talking to Joel right now but I like to know what he's up to."

You nod slowly, "So...you heard about..."

"The mountain, yeah," she makes a face, "Listen, I don't want the details, trust me, but I wasn't surprised when you said that, not the way Tommy was anyway," she giggles, "I love seeing him get all uncomfortable, it's so funny."

You snort, shaking your head, "Please, it was so awkward."

"He really had no idea, but I think I did, somehow," she smiles again, wistful, "As I said, I might not be talking to Joel but that doesn't mean I don't look out for him, watch him, make sure he's doing alright," she looks down again, "I'm not heartless, okay?"

"I know," you say earnestly, "I know you're not."

"I knew something was different with him. He's been so quiet and sad, doesn't talk to people very much anymore, but these past few weeks it was like he had a pep in his step, like the old Joel was coming back," she smiles at the thought, "And then I saw the way he'd look at you in the dining hall, all those little smiles. And at first I was like...gross. But then..." she sighs, shaking her head, "I don't know, I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him."

Her words elicit a warmth in your chest, soft and safe, like the feeling of being in Joel's presence. You wrap your arms around yourself, huddling forward and continuing to listen.

"We were eating breakfast when Tommy announced the search party this morning. As soon as he said what had happened I looked over at Joel. He looked like he'd just received the worst news of his life," her voice shakes again, like she's on the verge of tears, "He ran up to Tommy, started asking questions about the search, when they were starting, what way they were going, all that. Tommy told him that he couldn't come, they argued, Joel punched Tommy and then I had to practically pull them apart."

"You?" your mouth is agape, "You stopped the fight?"

She nods with another small smile, "As soon as Joel realized it was me pulling on him, he stopped. I told him I knew about what was going on, I said I'd stay with him until you came back safe and sound."

You feel tears prick in your eyes at the words, "That must have meant a lot to him."

"It meant the world to him, I know that," she says quietly, "I haven't talked to him for a long time, I'm sure you know that."

You nod, "I do."

She's silent then for a few moments, staring at the closed door again. When she finally speaks, her voice is shakier than ever, "I sat with him in his living room until they got back with you and Steve. He wanted to see you but they wouldn't let him, so I volunteered to stay with you. That's why I'm here."

She leans back against the wall with a sigh, biting down on her lip. You see tears beginning to brim in her eyes and you look away, knowing you wouldn't want someone staring at you if it was you getting emotional.

"He's lost a lot, you know," she says softly, sniffling a little bit, "He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about," she takes a breath, shaky and full of emotion, "He almost lost me, too. That's part of the reason we're not talking."

You stare at the concrete floor, letting her words sink in. A daughter? Joel had been a father? And Tess, who was she? A girlfriend? A wife? Clearly someone important, and he'd lost both of them.

You've been through your share of trauma, experienced your own losses, but never to that degree. You'd never gotten close enough to someone to really feel a loss like that, can't even imagine what it would feel like. Your heart aches for him; that stoic, quiet, and mysterious man who'd let you in but kept you at arm's length... for reasons you're beginning to understand.

You stand up slowly, wincing at the aches you feel, your skin feeling prickly and uncomfortable as your circulation continues to regulate. Ellie's words cycle through your mind as you stretch, ringing quiet and tender in your ears; I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him.

"When can I see him?" you ask softly, still avoiding looking at her as you pull at parts of your clothes, searching again for a bite you're pretty sure doesn't exist.

"I'll ask Maria," Ellie replies just as quiet, standing up as well and walking over to the door, "If you were bit you'd be showing signs by now, I think you're okay."

"Ask her about Steve too, please," you add, "I need to know if he's alive."

She nods and opens the door, then goes outside and shuts it behind her. You hear the deadbolt slide back into place.

You burst into tears.

Ellie returns with Maria about ten minutes later, both of them looking at you with kind and sympathetic expressions when they find you standing in the middle of the room sobbing your heart out. Without hesitation, Maria walks forward and wraps her arms around you tightly.

"It's okay, sweetie," she says softly in your ear, rubbing your back gently, "Steve's okay, he's gonna make it."

Ellie looks down when she says this, and part of you knows that she knows you're not crying about Steve.

They walk you home slowly, Maria on one side and Ellie on your other. You complain a bit, telling them you're okay to walk on your own, but neither pay your stubbornness any mind, just keep their arms linked through yours as they walk you to your house.

You're on your street when you see two figures up ahead, and your heart starts to pound harder and harder in your chest the closer you get. Because you know who it is.

Joel and Tommy are leaning against the banister of Joel's front patio, talking quietly to themselves. You grimace at the sight of Tommy's black eye but feel relief flood through you when you see that he's smiling at Joel, clearly no animosity present.

"Look who's up!" Ellie says loudly, and they both turn to look in your direction.

Joel freezes, staring at you for a few brief seconds of recognition before he's suddenly throwing himself from the patio and sprinting toward you. You feel both Ellie and Maria release you from their grips, right before you're suddenly enveloped in the warmest, sweetest, most sincere hug you've ever received in your life.

Throughout all these months of knowing Joel, he's never truly touched you. Sure, he's touched your hand, shook it during your official introduction, helped you stand up here and there. He's touched your face once, your lips twice. And he's touched you where you longed for him to, begged him to, but only for a moment, just one touch. Gentle, tender, but never long enough for you to really feel him the way you've wanted to.

Now he pulls you close without any hesitation, no rules, no consequences. He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers your name over and over until it sounds like a mantra, a prayer.

"Joel," you breathe, and you feel the tears start up again as you shut your eyes tight and just feel, listen to him say your name and hold you like you'll fall apart if he lets go.

"I thought I lost you," he says, voice rough and emotional, "Before I could even tell you how sorry I am."

"Shh," you squeeze him tighter, burying your face in his strong chest, "Don't worry about that, I'm here. I'm okay."

He holds you impossibly tighter and you hear the unmistakable sound of a sob rip through his teeth, tears dripping from his face into your hair. You pull back just enough to look up at him, see him peer down at you with an expression on his face that you've never seen before, impossibly soft and fond, eyes bright and yearning. Love.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, inhaling shakily, "For everything."

You shake your head furiously, "Joel, it's oka-"

"It's not okay," he interrupts, voice breaking again, "I'm so sorry. Not just for what I said yesterday, but for everything else. For pushing you away, making you feel like it was your fault, I'm so fucking sorry," he pulls you in again, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, "God, you have no idea how bad I've wanted to just hold you like this. I was such a fucking coward."

"You were afraid," you whisper, shaking your head, "I understand, Joel, I get it."

He lets out another sob, squeezes you tighter, "Don't let me go," he breathes, "Please don't let go."

For the entire hug you'd thought he was the one holding you, but you now realize that for him it's the other way around. You feel yourself start to cry harder as you pull him in tighter and just stand there, arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed against his chest as the beat of his heart thrums steadily in your ear. You both inhale and exhale deeply, moving as one being, one solid force. He kisses your head again and you melt further into his touch.

"I'm gonna head back to town," you hear Maria say softly nearby, probably to Tommy and Ellie, "Tommy, can you go check on Steve, make sure he's still doing okay?"

Joel stiffens at the name, suddenly pulling back from you to look over at Maria, "He alright?"

Maria nods, "Yeah," she turns to look at you then, expression serious, "He told us that when you didn't come back to switch patrols, he got worried, went out looking for you. Ended up running into a group of raiders, the same ones who set that trap you fell into. They stabbed him a couple times but nothing critical, he managed to get a few hits in himself before he got away, led them in the opposite direction."

"Jesus," you mutter, feeling guilt rush through you, "Are they still out there?"

"No," Tommy replies, shaking his head, "We took care of it. Steve knocked 'em around pretty good but we made sure none of 'em were breathin' by the time we left."

You nod slowly, still in Joel's embrace, "Tell him I'm sorry," you say quietly, "It's my fault."

"Shhh," Joel pulls you close again, rubbing your back gently, "Don't worry about that, let's get you inside."

"Make sure she has a bath," Maria says quickly, "Keep her warm, give her some food."

"I'm not a hamster," you groan, and you're surprised to hear Ellie laugh behind you. You'd forgotten she was there.

Joel suddenly pulls out of your embrace, still holding you with one arm while he reaches toward Ellie, "Come here," he says softly, "Please."

She shakes her head, taking a step back, "I'm going with Maria," she bites her lip, looks down and then looks back at Joel who's still staring longingly at her, "But I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly, voice still shaky, "Promise?"

She nods, gives him a small smile, "Promise."

"Where do you wanna go?" Joel had asked you softly, "Mine or yours?"

"Yours," you'd whispered immediately, no hesitation, "Please."

You now find yourself in Joel Miller's house, somewhere you never really ever pictured yourself. It's pretty similar to yours but there are a few differences, namely the amount of books and art. You hadn't known that Ellie was an artist; there are drawings all over his house, some in frames, some just laid around, all signed by Ellie, all beautiful. There's a picture she drew of him that he has framed on his fireplace, and you find yourself picking it up with a smile.

"Bath's almost ready," Joel says quietly behind you, and you spin back around. He looks at the picture in your hand, smiling softly, "Ellie drew that."

"She's really talented," you reply with a smile, "Wonder where she gets all this artsy fartsy stuff from?"

He chuckles, still standing a few feet away from you, "It's a mystery."

You place the picture back down and turn to look at him, feeling a nervousness in the pit of your stomach that you haven't felt around him in a long time, not since that first night together. Things are different now, it's palpable, and both of you are aware of it.

"Will you take a bath with me?" you ask quietly, unsure.

He nods slowly, eyes trained on your face, "Of course I will."

The bath is warm and welcoming. Joel had told you to strip down, get in, and that he'd be back momentarily with some food for you. You can't help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn't stuck around to watch you undress, but maybe it would've been inappropriate considering the circumstances.

You ease yourself under the water, a satisfied moan escaping your lips as the bath completely envelops you. He's put something in the water to make it smell good, lavender or vanilla. It instantly relaxes you, the heat of the water and the delicious smell making you feel completely at ease.

You lay there for a few minutes in silence, eyes closed, focusing on your breathing and bringing things back into perspective. You're okay, you're safe. Steve is okay, he's safe. You're both back in Jackson. You're with Joel, you're in his bath tub, he's downstairs making you lunch. Everything is okay.

Ellie's words filter through your brain again, distant but present; He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about.

A light knock on the bathroom door shakes you from your thoughts. You smile, "Come in."

Joel enters the bathroom, bowl of soup in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. He places them on the chair next to the tub, eyes avoiding you as he focuses on the task at hand. He kneels by the tub and spoons some of the soup carefully, then finally looks at your face as he brings the spoon to your mouth. You open, letting him feed you, letting him take care of you.

"Good?" he asks softly, gaze still on your face, ever the gentleman.

"Good," you say with a smile.

He feeds you a few more spoonfuls, smiling fondly at you as you eat. After a few moments of this you put your hand up, shaking your head, "That's enough for now, why don't you get in with me?"

His gaze finally falls then, looks at your body beneath the water, sees your nipples poking through the surface. He sighs, leans back a bit on his knees and shakes his head.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says quietly.

"Joel," you say quickly, voice steady, "Don't pull away from me. Not now. Not anymore."

He looks at your face again, expression sad and distant, "I'm afraid," he admits, "I'm afraid of being close to you."

"I know," you whisper, and you reach over to place your hand over his, stroking him gently with your thumb, "It's okay. It's okay to be afraid."

"I've lost a lot of people," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I thought...I thought if I let myself get close to you, if I gave you what you wanted...I'd get attached. I'd fall for you," he says it earnestly, voice breaking slightly on the last few words, "But here I am, fallin' for you anyway."

You smile at him, soft and loving. You squeeze his hand and slowly sit up in the bath, putting yourself on display for him. His eyes don't leave yours, but he swallows and tenses his jaw at your movement.

"Bad things have happened to the people I care about," he says quietly, barely a whisper, "And you're young, you're beautiful, you have this whole life ahead of you and I'm-" his voice breaks and he looks down again, tears cascading down his cheeks, "I'm scared you'll end up like those people, dead and gone because of me."

"Joel-"

"And I'm scared I don't deserve it," he interrupts, looking up at you again, mouth trembling, "I don't think I deserve love. I don't deserve someone like you 'cause of everything I've done."

"What about Ellie?" you ask softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "She's alive and she loves you."

He scoffs, shaking his head, "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," you mean it, leaning forward to cradle his hand in both of yours, "I talked to that girl for the first time today, really talked to her, and I can see it plain as day. She loves you more than you could ever know, Joel."

"She stayed with me today," he whispers shakily, nodding slowly, "She sat with me 'til we knew you were safe."

"And you think that's hate?" you ask softly, "Joel, that's love."

He looks at you again, expression pained. You bring his hand to your lips, press a gentle and tender kiss to every knuckle, showing him how much he's worth, how much he means to you.

"I'm afraid," he repeats through his tears, watching you kiss him, "I'm afraid to want you the way I do."

You release his hand and lean back slightly in the tub, extending your arm for him to take, gazing at him with all the love and care you can muster, "Get in with me," you whisper, the splash of water the only sound in the room save for your heartbeats, both of which you swear you can hear, "Don't be afraid."

His eyes cast downward to your lips and he swallows again, then looks back up into your eyes, "Okay."

You watch as he stands up and starts to unbutton his shirt. You can tell that he's extremely nervous, his fingers trembling as he fights to get each button open.

"I'm gonna close my eyes," you say tenderly, "And when you're ready, tap my shoulder and I'll let you in behind me, okay?"

He nods slowly, fingers frozen on the third button, "Okay," he repeats.

You close your eyes and lean back, listening to the rustle of clothes beside you as he undresses. You're not used to this Joel, the one who seems powerless and submissive. You're not usually the one giving him orders, it's always been the other way around. You know he's just nervous, afraid of being close to you like this, and all you want is for him to feel relaxed again in your presence, feel like himself.

After a moment he taps your shoulder; you lean forward in the bath and feel him ease in behind you, his legs entrapping yours along the edges of the tub. He seats himself down, places his hands around your middle and pulls you in close. You feel his groin press against your lower back; you've never felt his cock before, and somehow the casual intimacy of his softness pressed against you makes you smile.

"You can open your eyes," he whispers, then presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

You do as you're told, immediately seeing the way his legs are splayed out in front of you, long and strong beneath the water. You've never realized how small you are compared to him until this moment, completely enrobed in his body, heart thrumming against your back.

"This is heaven," you whisper, leaning back against him and closing your eyes again, "This is what I wanted, all along."

"I think you wanted a bit more than this," he replies with a chuckle, kissing your neck again, "And you'll get it, I promise. Let's just...let's just sit here for a little while first, alright?"

"As long as you need to," you murmur, and you swear you feel him smile against your skin.

You bathe together for a long time, just laying in each other's embrace and enjoying the company. Being this close to Joel truly is everything you could have ever hoped for, his strong arms wrapped around you as he noses your neck and breathes you in, holds you against his naked body like you're meant to fit there. He's so big and warm; you've never felt more safe.

At one point you scooch back a bit in this embrace, feel your ass unintentionally rub lightly against his cock beneath the water. Neither of you say anything, but you both slowly become aware of the way he hardens, begins to grow larger against you.

A few moments later the head of his cock is pulsing against your lower back. Your eyes are lidded, heavy, head bobbing backward to nestle at the base of his neck. His hands on your belly move upward to cup your breasts, holding you firmly and securely against him.

"Joel," you whisper, "Touch me."

The words bring both of you back to the ski lodge, the power he holds over you there, the way you're always at his mercy. You hope, despite the new situation, he'll be that person again for you. You crave it, need it.

"Not yet," he murmurs in your ear, "Be patient, pretty girl."

There he is.

You swallow, close your eyes and submit completely as he palms your breasts, tweaks your nipples between his fingers gently. You whimper pathetically, shuffle back against his cock again, feel the hard length of it along your back.

"You were a bad girl yesterday," he whispers in your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, making you shiver, "And today. Gettin' lost like that, makin' me worry..."

"M'sorry," you murmur, hands moving down to grip his thighs as he brings your earlobe into your mouth and sucks it, "Didn't m-mean to make you worry."

"I think," he whispers, breath hot against your skin, "I'm finally gonna have to punish you."

The words send tingles up and down your spine, eyes almost rolling back in your head when he sucks your earlobe again, eliciting sounds from you that only he knows how to generate. You squeeze his thighs tighter, feeling your pussy begin to pulse beneath the water.

"How?" you breathe, voice weak.

He releases your ear and noses your cheek, brings one of his hands from your breasts and rests a finger against your chin. He turns your face to the side, urging you to look at him. His eyes are dark, full of want and desire, and you know you're completely at his mercy.

"I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he whispers, "Gonna fill that pussy up with my cock."

The words send you into a tailspin, a guttural whine escaping your lips as your fingers press into his thighs, rubbing your own together to seek some purchase against your heat. He smiles, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, drops his hands and places them over yours, big and strong.

"I know that's what you want," he whispers, entangling his fingers with yours over his thighs, "But I'm gonna give it to you over and over again, gonna make you come as many times as I want, 'til you're begging me to stop, tellin' me it's too much, that you couldn't possibly come again," he squeezes your hands, licks a stripe up the side of your neck, "And then I'll give you another one."

"Please," you breathe, voice broken and full of desire, "Please, fuck me, Joel. I need it so bad."

"I know you do, baby," he whispers, "So be a good girl for me and do as I say, okay?"

"Okay," you whimper, leaning back in his embrace, feeling his cock prod your back.

"Say it."

"I'll be your good girl," you whine, trembling under his gaze, "I'm your good girl, Joel. Only yours."

He groans softly in your ear, "That's right, baby," he releases your hands from beneath his and cups your breasts again, squeezing gently, "Now, open yourself up for me."

With trembling fingers you reach beneath the water and pull your lips apart, using both hands to spread yourself for him. The water tickles you, makes you quiver in his grasp as you slowly push your middle finger inside.

"There you go," he whispers, "That feel good, pretty girl?"

"Y-yes," you whimper, throbbing around your finger.

"Add as many as you like," he tells you, "Need to be nice and open for my cock."

The very thought of finally having him inside you makes you whimper again as you add a second finger, feeling his familiar gaze on your cunt. It's so different this time, feeling how hard he is against you, being in his naked embrace while you obey his commands. This is nothing like being in his lap when he'd been fully clothed, holding you open for him. This is sex, pure sex that you know is going to last hours.

"Look at that," he murmurs when you've started to pump three fingers in and out of yourself at a steady pace, "So full for me, already ready to come, huh?"

You whimper, leaning back against his chest, feeling his wiry hair rub against your cheek. Without any hesitation he suddenly reaches down and presses his index finger to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Remember when I touched this clit for the first time?" he murmurs in your ear, circling it softly over and over, "Remember how you came just from a little touch? So sensitive, baby. Such a good girl."

His words send you over the edge, making you squirm and shake in his embrace as he gives you your first orgasm of the day, coaxes it out of you easily. You whimper when he touches your wrist, pulls your fingers out to replace them with his own.

"That's one," he whispers, sliding his index finger inside your heat, and you're not sure if he's talking about the orgasm or the digit. You're too blissed out to care, head bobbing against his neck again as he fingers you, adds a second and presses his lips to your ear, "Baby, she's so tight," he breathes, teasing a third at your entrance, "How's my cock gonna fit?"

"Mnnhnngg," you can't make words, looking down beneath the water at where he's fucking you relentlessly, fingers so big and thick compared to yours, his thumb toying with your clit.

"Can't even talk, huh?" he whispers, "Need to come again, I bet."

You don't think you'll be able to, not yet; you're so overstimulated but he just continues to fuck you with abandon, rubbing your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You arch back against him, his cock throbbing against your ass. Your fingers dig into his thighs again and he chuckles in your ear.

"Can't do that, baby," he whispers, "Play with your pretty little nipples for me, show me how hard they are."

You bring your trembling hands to your breasts, squeezing your tender nipples between your fingers and feeling another orgasm start building in your tummy. How? It's so soon since you had your last one, how the fuck can he give you another one so quickly?

He pumps his fingers steadily in and out of you, watching as you play with your nipples. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the skin of your left breast, inches away from where your fingers are pinching.

"Put it in my mouth, pretty girl," he murmurs against the skin, nosing the little bumps and dropping his jaw. You whimper at his words, squeezing your breast and dropping it downward so he can wrap his lips around the sensitive bud. You groan, feeling his tongue dart out and begin to lick tiny circles around it.

Seconds later, you're coming again. You shake and shiver and then go completely still in his arms, eyes rolling back as he continues to suckle at your nipple. He removes his fingers, thumbs your clit one more time, then releases your breast with a light pop.

"Two," he says quietly, smiling at you, "Good girl."

Somehow you make it to his bedroom. Exactly how, you're not sure. You're so wrecked from having two orgasms in ten minutes that you feel like jelly, but you're vaguely aware of him picking you up from the bath and carrying you to his room, putting you in his bed. You lay there like a starfish, arms up and legs wide as you breathe heavily, chest heaving.

"So sleepy," he says tenderly, stroking your cheek, "You ready for bed, baby? Wanna stop?"

Your eyes snap open and you shake your head frantically, only to see him standing there with a wide smile on his face.

"I'm kidding," he says with a laugh, "Don't worry."

You roll your eyes and look up at his ceiling, "Ass."

"There she is," he replies warmly, "Missed my feisty girl."

"She never left," you say with a wink, turning to look at him; he's shuffled closer to the bed, standing over you with his cock in his left hand, slowly stroking up and down. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes going straight for the plump and wet head.

"Yeah, you wanna suck it, huh?" he says quietly, thumbing exactly where you want to place your tongue, "Tasted my come twice but never had me in your mouth, how naughty."

You look up at him from under your lashes, smiling playfully, "I'm a good girl, promise."

He smirks, "Are you? Then show me how a good girl sucks cock."

You don't need him to ask you twice. You sit up on the bed and slide forward, watching as he releases his cock and lets it bounce upward toward his stomach, big and thick. You've never been so close to it, never seen it in broad daylight like this; he's huge, so wide and girthy with a big vein trailing along the underside all the way to the head, fat and leaking. With a shiver you lean forward and suck the tip into your mouth, trying not to smile when you hear him release a deep sigh.

"'Atta girl," he groans above you, his hand immediately coming up to cradle the back of your head, "That's my good girl."

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, swallowing down everything he's leaking and then starting to bob your head along the shaft, reaching up to grasp the base firmly in your hand. He tastes like the bath; lavender and vanilla, mixed with a salty and masculine flavor that makes your mouth water.

"Oh, baby," he murmurs, watching as you take his entire length in your mouth with barely any hesitation, the head hitting the back of your throat without even making you gag, "That's it, take the whole fucking thing, just like that."

You're aware of the fact that you don't have a gag reflex; you'd thought about telling him a while ago, thought maybe it'd convince him to let you blow him, but you'd never been brave enough to say anything. Now, you're glad you never did. Hearing his absolute wonder as you take his entire length is more than enough.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, watching as you pull back almost all the way and then push yourself forward again to fully envelop him, the tip repeatedly prodding the inside of your throat, "Jesus fucking Christ."

You swallow around him and look up from underneath your lashes, eyes wide and burning. He looks down at you and immediately slips his cock out of your mouth, taking a step back and putting his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay," he says quickly, hissing through his teeth, "I'm gonna come if you keep goin'. Fuck."

You look at him with faux-innocence, eyes wide, "Did I do something wrong?"

He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and taking another step backward, "You're gonna kill me, baby," he curls his hands into fists, and you swear his cock bobs again completely on its own, like he's about to come without even being touched. The thought makes you shiver, "I know I say that all the time, but I mean it. You're gonna kill me."

You giggle, falling backwards on the bed again and stretching out your arms and legs, closing your eyes and listening as he does a quick pace around the room to distract himself from the orgasm his body is threatening to have. You just laugh and rotate your legs back and forth, feeling an immense amount of pride that you're not the only overly sensitive one in the room.

"You think that's funny, huh?" he asks you, and your eyes snap open to see him kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed.

"N-no," you say, but your smile betrays you. He looks at you darkly and suddenly grabs your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your thighs apart, "Oh," you whimper, looking down at yourself, seeing where he's looking, where you're wet and dripping all over the sheets.

"Messy," he whispers, "Such a messy little pussy."

"It's yours," you tell him, as if he doesn't already know, "It's your little pussy."

"I know, baby," he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I've wanted to taste her for so long."

You quiver at his words, brow furrowing as he presses another soft kiss to the opposite thigh. He licks a stripe along the inside, just outside your lips where you're puffy and swollen. He kisses your mound, drags his tongue down and down and down until it swipes lightly against your clit.

"Joel," you moan, throwing your head back and fisting the sheets. He pulls back and you look down again to see him smirking at you, eyes suddenly bright and playful again.

"Tastes like heaven, baby," he says softly, then ducks his head down and pushes his tongue inside you with no warning.

You let out the loudest moan of your life as he begins to eat you out, tongue alternating between twisting and licking your insides and then suckling on your clit like he'd done with your nipple, circling it inside his mouth relentlessly. You writhe beneath him, so much that he has to press his hands firmly against your belly to hold you down.

The noises you're making are practically inhuman, uttering almost a completely different language under your breath as he coaxes more ridiculous sounds out of you. You quickly realize that looking down at him is a mistake; the sight of his greying curls splayed across your pubic bone and the shape of his curved nose pressed into the hair on your mound, his eyes closed in pleasure as he sucks and licks and devours, just the image alone brings you close to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you manage to squeak out, and he pushes his hands harder against your belly, the added pressure making you groan louder than ever.

He pulls his mouth away.

"No," you breathe, shaking your head wildly with wide eyes, "No, no, no, don't stop. Please don't stop!"

He smirks at you, removing his hands and leaning backward to release you completely from his grip. You stare at him, completely bewildered.

"Joel," you cry, real tears starting to form in your eyes, but not from sadness or anger - this time, you're just horny. "Joel, why?"

He still doesn't speak, just sits there and watches you groan in disbelief, your hands coming up to cover your face. You buck your hips into the air, seeking some kind of pressure, but nothing helps.

"Joel," you repeat, "This is mean."

"I told you I was gonna punish you, baby," he says it with faux-disappointment, like he's not the one who makes the rules, "I'm the one who decides when you come. And what I just did is exactly what you just did to me."

You pout, sitting up on your hands and giving him a dirty look, "That's not fair, you told me to stop, I would've kept going."

"But if you'd kept going, how would I have been able to do this?" he asks, and suddenly he's standing up and leaning over you on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he hovers above you.

"W-what?" you ask, but you know the answer as soon as you feel the wet head of his cock gently prod your entrance.

"This, baby," he murmurs, and pushes himself all the way inside.

You almost let out a scream, squeezing his sheets in your hands as his huge cock practically rearranges your guts, feeling him in your stomach as he reaches his hands up to entwine his fingers with yours, plying them away from the sheets.

"Oh, she wasn't ready, was she?" he asks quietly, nosing your neck and smiling at the incoherent noises coming from your throat, "Poor little pussy, never had something so big inside of her, huh?"

He stays still inside of you, letting you get used to his wide girth and thick length, so large within you that you feel like you're going to burst. You continue to make odd noises, twitching under his grasp, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you're coming. You're coming, just from having his cock fully sheathed inside of you.

"Three," he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, "That's three times now, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Your pussy pulses and throbs around him, aching and burning in the most perfect way. How does he know exactly what you need? How does he know exactly what'll get you there?

"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair gently as you convulse around him, "You're doing so well, takin' it all so good."

You've never felt so full in your life. You've only ever had sex a handful of times, only ever actually been with two other men. If you had to compare them to this, you'd laugh in their faces.

"Big," you finally find your words, barely a whisper, "So big."

"I know," Joel kisses your temple, pulls back to look down at you with a gentle smile, "I'll wait 'til you get used to it, don't worry."

It's only then, looking up into those big brown eyes, that you realize you still haven't kissed him. He's got his enormous cock inside of you, stretching every inch of you open, and you've never kissed him.

It's like he's suddenly thinking the exact same thing. You watch as his brow furrows, lips parting slightly as he leans down and presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes closing as you kiss him back with a hunger you've never known. You slip your tongue inside his mouth and he grants you entrance immediately, breathing deeply against your face as he sucks you in, lets you taste him. You can taste your own wetness on his tongue and it makes you moan against his lips.

"You're so fucking perfect," he breathes against your mouth, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against yours, "My perfect girl, always so good for me."

"I'm yours," you remind him, voice weak and shaky, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, Joel."

He inhales deeply, removing his hands from yours and trailing them down your body to hold you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso and trailing his fingers up and down your back.

"You can move now," you whisper, still pulsing around him, "I can take it."

"I know you can, baby," he murmurs, "Such a good girl."

It takes a few slow thrusts, your mouth still eliciting the most unhinged sounds as he fucks you at the slowest pace imaginable, but eventually you build up a rhythm. He's so big, it's hard to believe he's actually fitting inside of you. You'd only ever seen his cock from a distance, in darkness, never realized how fucking huge he was. You can't believe you'd even managed to fit all of him in your mouth.

"I'm close," you groan in his ear, your own hands coming up to grip his back tightly, loving the feeling of having him pressed so close to you as he fucks you, "Give me my fourth, Joel, fucking give it to me."

He laughs lightly in response, pulling back to look down at you, "Not much of a punishment anymore, is it?" he says with a smirk, shaking his head, "Now you're begging for it." He slows down his thrusts, eventually stilling inside of you and pulling almost all the way out, letting the head of his cock sit inside your pulsing hole.

"Look at that," he says softly and you sit up to follow his gaze, looking down at your already fucked-out hole, his cock only connected to it via the fat head that sits nestled at your entrance, "Look at all your come on my cock, pretty girl."

You notice the white and glistening spots along his cock, feeling your cheeks go red at the recognition that it's all from you. You bite your lip, chest heaving breathlessly as he carefully pulls the tip from your hole and places it against your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, watching as he gently rubs the head in circles on your clit, his tip continuing to leak and making you even more slippery than you already are.

"Here's number four for you, baby," he murmurs, and pulls back his cock to lightly slap the head against you, the pressure immediately making you moan. He slaps it again, a little harder, and you have to bite down on your lip again to stop the onslaught of little whines you're threatening to make.

"Come," he says firmly, deliberately an order, and slaps the head of his cock against your clit one last time, delivering the final push.

Your eyes roll back again and you fall back on the bed, body twitching as you come for the fourth time, feeling his eyes on your pussy as your hole pulses and throbs around nothing.

"Good girl," he whispers, and seconds later you feel his cock slide back inside of you, exactly where it belongs, "There you go."

You lay there completely limp for a few seconds, body only moving with the thrusts of Joel's steady pace. You finally open your eyes again, see him kneeling on the bed above you. He's holding your lower half upwards, hands digging into your hips and thumbs splayed across your tummy.

"Use me," you breathe, eyes closing again, "Just use me for a few minutes."

He groans, a guttural and fierce noise that rips through the silence of his bedroom. You relax completely, melting into the sheets and letting him take what he needs, take and take and take, using you like his personal fuck toy, something you'd only dreamed about and never thought would ever actually come to fruition. Your arms hang limp and loose off the edge of his bed as you inhale and exhale, trying to get your energy back as fast as possible so you can come again.

Because you know he's not gonna let you off at number four.

After a few more steady thrusts you slowly sit back up on your elbows, looking at him through hooded and tired eyes. He can see that you're close to being completely done, smiles gently at you and slows his rhythm.

"Welcome back," he says softly, leaning down to pull you up so you're level with him. He repositions the both of you so his legs are circling you, yours coming up to wrap around his lower back as you sit on his cock. He pulls you closer, cradling the back of your head and pressing kisses along the side of your face, "I know you're tired but I'm gonna give you one more, baby, just like I promised."

"I know," you whisper, voice shaky.

He holds you in his wide arms, completely envelops you as he fucks up into you steadily, nose and lips pressed against the side of your face as he brings himself closer and closer to release, continuously whispering a thread of dirty things to you, building you up.

"Such a tight fuckin' pussy, all for me," he murmurs, "So wet and pink and perfect, takin' me so good, so fuckin' full of cock."

"Joel," you whimper, leaning further against him and letting him fuck you mercilessly, letting him push you closer and closer to your fifth orgasm, "Keep talking."

"Okay, baby," he whispers, brow furrowed, "Okay, pretty girl. So fuckin' good to me, so fuckin' pure and perfect, lettin' me fill this little cunt, lettin' me fuck it so deep," you scratch at his arm, tension building in your belly, "Waited so long for me to give it to you, begged for it for months, and now you have it. It's all yours, baby. You get this cock whenever you want now, just say the word."

He reaches down and rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling you tense against him as your orgasm overtakes you. You shake in his embrace, moaning out his name one final time before you start to come, heart pounding and chest heaving as he releases your clit and hugs you close to him. You tremble beneath him, feeling completely spent, almost boneless in his lap as he keeps fucking you.

"Where do you want my come, pretty girl?" he asks you through clenched teeth, "You still want it in your mouth?"

"Yes," you say immediately, eyes widening, "In my mouth, please."

Without another word he pulls you from his lap, watching as you fall backwards on the bed weightlessly.

"Christ, I fucked the shit outta you, baby," he says, genuinely shocked at how blissed out you are.

"You did," you reply softly, feeling a smile cross your face, "Can't move anymore."

He gives you a gentle smile, walks around the bed and aims his cock toward your face, "Here's your reward, baby, open up, nice and wide."

You do as you're told, feeling an immense amount of pride and satisfaction as you finally get what you've been craving for months. He strokes his cock once, only once, and suddenly ropes of thick white come are painting your tongue and lips, your cheeks, your chin. He groans, long and low, watching as you close your eyes and take every drop he gives you, watching it all pool on your tongue, dribble down your chin.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you open your eyes again to see him staring at you, eyes still dark and pupils blown wide, "Swallow it, pretty girl."

You close your mouth and swallow all of it, reveling in the salty taste on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You bring a trembling hand to your mouth, push the leftovers from your cheeks and chin past your lips, swallowing a second time.

"Good girl," he whispers, leaning down to push your hair out of your eyes, "That's my good girl, did so fucking well for me. Did everything I said."

"I'm yours, Joel," you whisper, voice completely wrecked, "I'm your good girl."

He cleans you up tenderly, pressing kisses to your skin every now and then as he takes a warm washcloth and wipes you down, pays extra attention to your sensitive spots and lets you lay there in peace. He's so sweet, so gentle, you'd hardly know it was the same Joel who walked out on you back at the ski lodge.

But it is the same Joel. He's just finally let himself have what he wants, finally let himself give you what you want. When he climbs in bed beside you and wraps his arms tightly around you, you've never felt so desired in your entire life. He kisses your face all over, whispers praises, tells you how beautiful you are, makes you feel wanted.

"You asleep?" he asks you softly, hands running up and down your arms soothingly.

"In and out," you murmur back, "You really did a number on me."

He chuckles quietly, kisses your cheek and holds you tighter, "I know. It was okay, right? I didn't go too far?"

"It was perfect," you reply sincerely, leaning back into his touch, "It was everything I ever wanted, better than anything I imagined."

He smiles against your skin, "Good, I'm glad."

You both lay there in the silence of his bedroom for a few more moments, listening to each other's breathing. He kisses the back of your neck, noses your skin and inhales your scent.

"Are you still afraid?" you ask quietly, "You can tell me, I want you to be honest."

He takes a few moments to reply, sighing deeply and bringing one of his hands down to hold tightly to yours. You squeeze his back, quietly reminding him that you're here, that you're not going anywhere.

"I am," he says softly, voice barely a whisper, "But not so much anymore. I think it'll be easier now."

"It will be," you reassure him quietly, tightening your grip on his hand, "I'm here for you, okay? Every step of the way."

He nuzzles into your hair, presses himself against you and sighs contentedly, "Okay."

You close your eyes, focusing on the perfection of this moment, the feeling of his body so close to yours, warming you up and keeping you safe. You can't help but notice how perfectly your bodies fit together, how right it feels to be lying together like this.

"By the way," he whispers suddenly, "You'll be my patrol partner again, right?"

You grin, tilting your head back slightly so his cheek brushes against your temple, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against your skin, so natural, so easy.

"I thought you'd never ask."

i can't believe how long this took me to write but i'm so glad i finally finished it. this isn't the end of soft!dom joel, but i would consider it the end of their story, most likely. i'll probably write some more smutty one-shots for them, but i doubt i'll write anything for them again with this much detail. i feel pretty satisfied with this.

let me know what you think!!! i love hearing yalls feedback, it makes me so happy. i also have a kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip. thank you so much for reading 💖

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #*#fic: soft!dom joel

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