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mrsbarnesblog · 5 months

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Tattoo

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Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader

Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.

Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘

“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off.

“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach.

You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse.

“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that.

But you were so wrong.

As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint.

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug.

“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.

"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky...

Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath.

Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself.

Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn.

He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing.

He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person.

“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile.

And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk.

You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.

You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head.

“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot.

“Thank you.” You almost whispered.

Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.

You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo.

To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes.

“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away.

“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness.

“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”

Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.

“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.

“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”

“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it.

"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke?

Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session.

“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there.

“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.”

“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you.

The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over.

You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor.

“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected.

“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it.

“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.”

“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.

“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop.

“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again.

Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything.

You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes.

“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.

“No!”

“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one.

“I can do it myself!”

You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged.

Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest.

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.

Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss.

He was good at it.

No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself.

“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.

You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop.

God, he must be big.

Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly?

“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.

“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.

"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question.

Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs.

Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot.

“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?”

“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.”

“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment.

“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do.

“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”

“Loosers.”

“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”

“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.

“Okay.”

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.

With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died.

Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch.

Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit.

“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.”

"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips.

You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you.

The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed.

You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time.

You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.”

“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold.

“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong.

"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?"

“I do.”

Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips.

Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs.

Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there.

Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing.

With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress.

“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.

“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails.

“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time.

“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues.

When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside.

He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life.

Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could.

“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.

“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away.

“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”

“I want to cum. Let me, please.”

“Good fucking girl.”

Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder.

You both felt how close you were.

Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.

“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple.

“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.

Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…

“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you.

“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session.

“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.”

“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer.

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5sospenguinqueen · 22 days

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Lullabies | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Six months ago, Max walked out of your life after a conversation about your future. When you find out he' ended up in a's dating Kelly - who has a child - you work through your emotions in the best way you know how; revenge music.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Miscommunication. End of a relationship. Max doesn’t look great in this.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in 2021 but timelines have been completely altered. Olivia Rodrigo songs.

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Feb

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liked by georgerussell63, bestfriend and others

YourUserName 'and i fantasise about a time you're a little fucking sorry'

12,326 comments

User 1 mother is in the studio, ya’ll. i'm smelling a new album

User 2 did their breakup destroy my soul? yes. do i believe the revenge album will heal my soul? absolutely

User 3 the working titles are so unhinged and I’m here for it

→ User 4 hit you with a car is so real

→ User 5 love that she called him evil whilst also saying that she wants him to drive off a cliff. we respect it

francisca.cgomes i’m SO ready for this. sure you can’t give me a little preview?

→ YourUserName stop trying to get me fired

User 6 sis disappears from social media for 6 months only to come back serving cunt

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

2 months before

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

May

redbullracing just posted

liked by YourUserName, maxverstappen1 and others

redbullracing ANOTHER VICTORY FOR MAX VERSTAPPEN 🏆 #AustrianGP tagged: maxverstappen1, kellypiquet

7,445 comments

User 7 omg omg omg y/n liked. this is not a drill

User 8 was that last photo really necessary? she’s just a wag, she’s not actually part of red bull

User 9 not y/n liking 🥺 he broke her heart but she’s still supportive of his career

User 10 that should’ve been Y/N

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

June

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and others

YourUserName 'you’re just a stranger i know everything about'

10,102 comments

User 11 not max liking despite not even following

victoriaverstappen so talented

liked by maxverstappen1

→ YourUserName thank you, vic x

→ User 12 not the former SILs interacting on main

alex_albon what's that sound? oh, it's just my tears

→ YourUserName doofus

→ lilymhe can confirm

User 12 and now my heart is breaking all over again. i miss the two of them so bad

kellypiquet just posted

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and others

kellypiquet summer break with my favourites 🤍 tagged: maxverstappen1

4,387 comments

User 13 so pretty

User 14 goals

User 15 anyone notice max hasn’t been commenting since y/n became active again on socials

→ User 16 delusional

→ User 17 clearly they're fine if she's posting vacay pics with him

→ User 18 except these are clearly old pics because max had stubble at the gp like two days ago so...

→ User 15 @ user16 plus he always used to comment and this time he's not even liked the post

→ User 19 not to add fuel to the fire but they were also spotted arguing after his podium

YourUserName posted a new story

Hi, guys. This part of the Baby Fever Angst series, which will include smaus for other drivers.

Daniel’s Version | Lando’s Version | Lance’s Version

Charles’ Version

I have part 2 planned if people want it but also happy to leave it like this if people don't want them to have redemption haha

Tag List (I tried to include all those who asked. Sorry if you only wanted to be tagged in Part 2 to Daniel and not the other drivers, it got a bit confusing haha)

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery

2K notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 4 months

Text

𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Ever since you spilled coffee on your co-worker, you find yourself getting in compromising situations with him.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, co-worker Toji, office sex, oral sex (m. receiving), gagging, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, praise, semi-public sex(?? they're in the janitor's closet in the first part and there's people outside)

*Finally the last one!!! thank you all so much for 10k again🥹 I'm almost at 13k now so thank you all so much for your support, I love you all so very much

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Apart from his name, you don’t know anything about the man you work with. Toji sits next to you eight hours a day, yet you’ve never gotten to properly know him. You have no idea if he’s married, if he has kids, a pet– What waits for him when he gets home? Does he have any hobbies? The only time you ever talk is about work, and you typically wouldn’t care about knowing your coworkers if it weren’t for the fact that you constantly find yourself daydreaming over Toji.

What you like the most about Toji may be the fact that he barely speaks since it leaves you questioning everything about his personality. You make a perfect version of your co-worker in your head which has you head over heels for him. It certainly doesn’t help that Toji is exactly the type of man who you want behind you, fucking you senseless.

You hate to have those types of thoughts in the middle of the day, and worst of all, you’re mindlessly staring at him, and it’s too late to turn away when he asks you what’s wrong. He clears his throat, and you feel your face burning hot when he asks, “Is everything okay? Do I have something on my shirt?”

“Oh– No! Sorry…” You can’t play it off much since you stared at him like a lovesick teenage girl. You try to ignore the awkward interaction by looking back at your computer, trying to go back to work, trying to ignore the very embarrassing fact that Toji caught you daydreaming.

You feel his eyes on you as you turn back to your work, and you swear you could crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before Toji turns his attention back to his own job. You don’t stress about it, completely forgetting about the awkward interaction after five minutes.

You work fine throughout the afternoon, and when you finally get out of your chair to take a break, you bump into him. Toji’s coffee spills all over his white button up shirt, making a gasp leave your lips. Toji doesn’t have much of a reaction even though the coffee looks hot. Your immediate reaction is to rub your long sleeve on his shirt to try to clean it up. You’re repeating, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I should watch where I’m going.”

“It’s fine. You’re fine.” Toji just holds his arms up as if he were being threatened by a gun. Toji isn’t a man that gets flustered easily but by the way you’re unintentionally touching him to clean him up, his cheeks burn. “It’s fine, really. I’ll just clean up in the bathroom–”

“I’m sorry.” You jerk back when you realize just how much you’ve been touching him without his permission. He lets out a chuckle, making it seem that it’s fine. It was an honest mistake, he surely doesn’t mind if a pretty girl bumps into him… Now, if it was one of the old guys that work in the office, it’d be a whole different story. You watch him walk away, mentally cursing at yourself for being so fucking dumb.

You notice the mess on the floor and you tiptoe around it to go to the janitor’s closet and get some stuff to clean it up. You enter the small room, turning on the light to look for some paper towels. You click your tongue, seeing that they’re on the top shelf.

You stand on your tippy toes trying to reach a roll but they’re too far back for you. Would it be too embarrassing to jump? Nobody is watching… Just when you’re about to jump, you feel a body pressed against your back. Your head slowly turns, and luckily, you find your handsome co-worker, grabbing the paper towel for you.

“Here you go.” He gives it to you when you turn around, and you awkwardly smile at him as you take it from his hand.

“Thank you, Fushiguro. Again, I’m so sorry.” You repeat. You feel your heart skip a beat when you realize just how close he is, hearing him breathe and feeling the warmth that his body gives. His dark green eyes are filled with lust, and he makes no effort in disguising it. You’re flattered, really, but this isn’t appropriate considering where you’re at.

“Please, call me Toji.” He licks his lips, and you feel as if you’re burning up. The heat his body emits really doesn’t help you cool you down either. Your eyes look at the door that’s closed for a reason… It’s locked.

You’ve imagined this scenario one too many times, and you always imagined yourself as the most confident woman in the world– But as it happens to you, you’re too shy to really do anything. “I’ve seen the way you look at me… And thought of a way your pretty face could make up for my ruined shirt.”

“Toji…” Is all that manages to leave your pathetic lips. You’re not scared, your body is practically begging for his touch. “It’s not appropriate to do what you want to do here.”

“Why not? The door is locked.” He says as he grabs your hand and puts it on his belt. His lips meet yours, his tongue going past your lips and wandering around in your mouth before it presses against yours. He’s just like you imagined, intoxicating.

Your hands begin to move on their own, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You can’t take too long since you have to get back to work soon, it’ll be quick, hopefully. You pull away from the kiss, getting on your knees. You pull down his briefs, letting his cock free from its confinement. It’s more than you expected.

You lick your lip before biting down and looking up at him. He has a smirk on his face as he waits for you to do more than just stare. Your tongue licks up from the base to the tip before fully wrapping your mouth around it, taking as much as you can get.

You bob your head slowly, starting off slow. And as Toji feels your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock, he thinks that maybe this wasn’t his brightest idea. He lets out a breathy moan, feeling so good. Your bobs begin to pick up a bit of speed, and the man stops talking for a second to enjoy the feeling of your mouth wrapped around his cock.

“You look so pretty on your knees like that. You’re just a pretty little thing.” He sighs, relieved. He decides to bite his bottom lip, holding back moans so the whole office doesn’t hear him as you suck him off. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You look up at him, pleased with what you’re doing. You’re doing what you’ve always thought of doing with him– But you’re in the office. You can’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be heard. But he got a bit too caught up, enjoying the feeling of your mouth and your tongue.

He grabs the back of your head and pushes your head so you gag on his cock. It’s your punishment for ruining his shirt. Your gagging is like music to his ears, the greatest melody he has ever heard.

“Fuck– Fuck-” He moans as a couple of tears leave your eyes. He begins to move his hips, which he finds more fun than just pushing your head on his cock. “God, such a pretty girl taking my cock.”

He’s completely forgotten about the fact that you’re in the office, and he’s getting loud. He’s staring down at you, admiring just how beautiful you look with your mouth wrapped around him. He lets out a groan, filling your mouth with his cum.

He finally lets go of your head, and you take your mouth off his cock. You swallow most of his cum, but some of it manages to escape and it drips down the corners of your mouth. Toji bends down to clean it up, pressing you to open your mouth so he can wipe the remaining cum on your tongue.

“You have to fix your makeup, by the way. I’ll see you out there.” Toji says, fixing his pants before unlocking the door and leaving you to fix yourself up.

You’d definitely be mad being left alone so fast after sucking a guy off, but you can’t be mad at him. If anything, it makes you want him even more.

“Hey, can you help me with this?” Toji asks, eyes focused on the new program that you’re working with. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t know how to use it– Not that you want to be rude but it makes sense.

After your little encounter in the janitor’s closet, Toji hasn’t really tried to do anything else with you. You were slightly disappointed but you managed to move on. What really worried you was any of your co-workers hearing how he moaned while you two just managed to be locked in the janitor’s closet. What really made things confusing was the fact that you came back with no paper towels even though you were going to clean up the mess you just made.

“Yeah sure.” You’re sure that it won’t take too long. You’re off in around thirty minutes, teaching him shouldn’t take longer than five minutes.

At least that’s what you thought, it seems that Toji isn’t smart enough to catch on with it quickly. Your co-workers begin to leave one by one, and when you’re the last ones in the office, you’re convinced that Toji isn’t even qualified for the job. Until you realize that Toji isn’t even paying attention, his eyes have been ogling your cleavage the entire time… It’s not like you can even blame the poor guy since your boobs have been practically on his face the entire time.

“Should we continue this tomorrow? It seems your eyes are elsewhere.” You point out, and he lets out a chuckle.

“I agree. We should continue with that tomorrow. I need help with something else though.” Toji says, clicking out of the program.

“Can we do it tomorrow–” You begin but he shakes his head. You furrow your brows in confusion as you watch him turn off the computer. What exactly does he need help with?

Toji stands up from his chair, taking two steps to get close to you before his hand goes under your chin and he makes you look up at him. It clicks right there and then. Toji didn’t need to learn how to use the program, he just wanted to get you all alone in the office.

“I don’t think this issue can wait till tomorrow.” His voice becomes husky, and you squeeze your thighs out of reflex. You’re not planning on fighting it. He’s been flirtatious with you all morning, and you’ve been thinking of him a million different positions he can put you in… Curse your dirty mind.

“Does it really? I thought you didn’t even want me after… Well, you know, the incident in the janitor’s closet. You didn’t even try to make a move on me after.” You point out, and Toji laughs. You don’t exactly find what’s funny about this. “What’s funny?”

“Maybe you’re just not available for me. You’re always going out with everyone else, what do you want me to do? Steal you from them? Let them know I want to fuck the shit out of you?” He answers. And maybe he’s right, you have been going out with your other co-workers after work to get a drink, and when it’s not that, he’s out of the office. You really haven’t given him much of a chance to ask you out or let him fuck you after work.

You won’t admit you’re at fault, therefore you decide to move your hands to the back of his head.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You tell him, pulling him into a kiss. It’s not worth spending time arguing any longer since you two clearly want to do something that doesn’t involve much talking. While your tongues press against each other, his hands move under your ass to lift you up and put you on his desk.

As he kisses you passionately, his hand goes to your thigh, caressing the soft flesh that your skirt exposes. His hand goes up to your panties, toying with your clothed cunt, working you up. He moves your panties to the side, running his fingers through your already slick folds. He pulls away with a smirk on his face, only to say, “You’re already so wet for me, pretty girl. But I haven’t done anything?”

“Shut up.” You sound embarrassed, and you are. Just the thought of him fucking you is enough to make you go crazy.

He pushes two fingers into your cunt, his lips landing on yours again. His tongue glides over yours while he curves his fingers, searching for your sweet spot. He knows when he finds it, feeling a moan through your tongue.

His fingers toy with you, while his free hand frees his cock. He pulls his fingers out when his cock is free. He runs the tip through your folds, and he begins to tease you. You hold your breath in anticipation, waiting ever so patiently for Toji to bury himself inside of you.

You breathe in as he pushes himself inside of you. He lets out a breathy moan as your walls wrap around his cock. Fuck, he didn’t think you would feel so tight and warm around him… Oh fuck, this is too fucking good. How did he not fuck you in the janitor’s closet immediately?

His cock slowly stretches you out, and you bite your bottom lip, holding back from being loud. There’s no one around, but you still don’t want to draw any attention to yourself.

Toji starts off slow but quickly picks up speed. You’re taking him so well, and fuck, do you look beautiful. He’s surprised he hadn’t made a move sooner– But he couldn’t, he had no way of knowing that you liked him. Not until he caught you daydreaming while staring at him.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He tells you as his head goes to the crook of your neck. He licks it before biting down lightly. His head remains buried on your neck, where he lets his moans out so they come out muffled. “And your pussy is so fucking tight.”

He’s too lost in pleasure to even have noticed how your hand had gone down and now you’re playing with your clit. He hears your sweet moans in the air, which is truly the best music that has ever graced his ears. Fuck, he could ask you to marry him right then and there just to hear that every morning and night.

“Oh fuck, Toji–” Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Toji’s hitting just the right spot, and he doesn’t even know it. You’re squeezing around him as your orgasm nears. You had many ideas on how your work day would end, but you truly didn’t expect to be on cloud nine when it ended.

Thank the heavens for Toji. That’s all you can think about when you reach your high, loudly moaning his name which echoes in the empty office building.

Toji’s breath gets caught up in his chest, his thrusts getting sloppy as his release approaches. He doesn’t want this to end yet– But maybe he could invite you out to dinner and then take you back to his place. The night doesn’t have to end so soon…

His nails dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he reaches his release, his hot cum filling you up. Toji remains buried inside of you for a moment, while you both take a moment to regulate your breath. He pulls out and fixes your panties quickly before his cum gets everywhere.

You’re both quiet as you gather your stuff to leave. You wait for each other to go to the elevator, and even when you’re inside the lift, you’re awfully quiet for a pair of people that just had sex.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” You smile at Toji when you get to your floor. He grabs your hand before you can walk away and he proposes,

“Let’s actually grab a drink.”

2K notes · View notes

eddiemunsons-missingnipple · 4 months

Note

Hey have a request I’d love to see a fic like this:

Dad!Eddie x mom!reader their reaction when their 18 year old daughter comes home with her first real boyfriend turns out it’s a metalhead like Eddie :)

I hope you can do something like this <3

This is so cute, and I love the idea. I just picture Eddie being a complete girl dad. Hope you enjoy. 🩷

Requests are open for the time being.

Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!reader

Warning: none, just some fluff.

A/n: This is fluff, but I still do not want minors interacting with my work. Not proofread

"He's coming over!" Your daughter Julie raced down the stairs yelling out to you.

Eddie looked up from his phone with his reading glasses hanging off his nose. "Who's coming over? He?"

You saw him looking towards you and then back at your daughter. She just turned eighteen a few months ago. She was born on July tenth. Which was also the birthday of Ronnie James Dio. Something Eddie never stopped bragging about saying it's "the most metalest thing ever."

He fell in love all over again the moment she was born. She was glued to his hip. Anywhere he went, she went. If he was eating, so was she. If Eddie got a tattoo, then he was buying her one out of the bubble gum machine for her to match.

He couldn't stand watching her grow up. Seeing her go from this tiny little thing to a young woman was difficult on you both. She had his eyes and dimples along with his sarcasm.

"Oh, uhh, her boyfriend Eddie, remember he's coming for dinner." You reminded him while trying to keep things calm.

"Boyfriend?" He repeated.

Julie rolled her eyes. " Yeah dad boyfriend you know the guy I've been telling you and mom about for like the last two months."

Eddie didn't say a word back. He knew he couldn't stop her from dating. He actually didn't hate the idea of her dating. He hated the idea of some guy hurting her.

That's all it really came down to. He's tried so hard to shield her from all the bad in the world. But you've helped him realize that's impossible, and he needs to just let her learn.

Once your daughter left for the day, you sat with your husband. You wanted to take his mind off of things and just help him relax. He already possibly has high blood pressure. You didn't want to make it worse.

"You wanna go out back and work on your tomatoes? " You got up and started massaging his shoulders.

He smiled and took off his glasses. "I actually gotta tune up my bike, but maybe tomorrow, sweetheart."

"Are you okay?" You leaned down by his ear.

"I'm fine-- I'll be fine." He reassured you. You turned your head and gave him a little kiss to his cheek.

He was still as handsome as the first time you saw him. His eyes have the prettiest crinkles from all of the years of laughing. His smile lines are visible under his stubble. His hair is starting to finally grey in certain parts. You've been together since you were practically kids.

You and him fell in love the millisecond you laid eyes on each other. Your parents hated him at first. They tried so hard to keep you two apart, but you weren't having it. Nothing was going to keep Eddie away from you.

He tried so hard to win your parents over, mainly your dad. Since your mom softened up when she got to know him better. Your dad was a different story. Your dad didn't like his look.

The tattoos, hair, and music he was strictly against. Eddie was used to being treated like that. He was used to people judging him before they really knew him. That doesn't mean he still didn't try to get your father's approval because he did. All the time, with little to no luck.

You noticed Eddie had been in his garage all day. He said he had to give his bike a quick tune-up, but that usually only takes a few hours. He's been out there since this morning. You look at the clock, and it's now going on 4 pm. Julie has been home now for just an hour or so. She wanted to get ready in time to introduce you to her boyfriend.

You know he's nervous about meeting Julie's boyfriend. He doesn't want to seem like some weird overbearing parent. This is her first serious relationship, it seems like. Eddie wants to be protective, but he doesn't want to scare the guy off. He doesn't want your daughter to hate him.

A loud knocking knocking at the front door tells you he's here. Before you could even leave the kitchen to answer it, Eddie somehow is already there.

He swings open the door and is met with a guy not much taller than him. He has short dark hair with a denim vest similar to his old one. Various pins and patches littered all over it. He was wearing an old Slayer shirt underneath with black boots.

Eddie eyed him curiously. "Whooo are you?"

"Oh, I'm um, Noah...Julie's boyfriend." He held out to his to shake Eddie's. His other hand held some flowers in it.

Foot steps come running up next to them both, and it took Eddie a moment to process who they belonged to.

"Dad, this is Noah." Julie took his hand and brought him inside.

"Right-nice to meet you." He finally shook his hand back as he walked past him.

Eddie was stunned. The second he saw him, he got instant flashbacks of when he was younger going to meet your parents for the first time. He wanted to hate the guy. He wants to be this tough, hard ass to him. But now he can't bring himself to do any of that.

"Eddie, come help me with dinner." You whispered.

"Yeah - Yeah, okay, I'm coming." He shook his head and smiled to himself.

"He bought me flowers." You pointed at the vase holding the bouquet.

"So i buy you flowers all the time." Eddie shrugged, still trying to keep up the facade that he doesn't like the guy.

He grabbed a knife and helped cut up some onions. He looked out the window in front of him and watched your daughter and her boyfriend outside. You stopped what you were doing to focus on them, too. You saw how Eddie's eyes had softened when Noah put a little buttercup flower behind her ear.

You and him instantly had memories flooding in from your earlier years as a couple. Where Eddie would find a pretty flower and put it behind your ear. Or how he would lay with you for hours looking up at the stars. You could see he was getting a little emotional about it. More memories of picnics together in the back of his van.

"You gonna cut those onions or keep zoning out?" You nudged him.

"Sorry, I'm ju- I'm just thinking." He spoke quietly.

You went over to him and rubbed his back. "About?"

"I'm supposed to be a dick head to him, but I can't bring myself to be that way" Eddie kept looking out the window, watching Noah with your daughter.

"Who said you had to be that way?" You looked out to where he was.

He shook his head. "No one... I'm just being over dramatic like usual."

After dinner was over. Noah and Julie were sitting on the couch together while Eddie was sitting in his chair. You were busy getting dessert ready for everyone.

"Hey dad, did I tell you Noah is in a band." Julie giggled.

Eddies face lit up. "No, you didn't. do you play?"

"Uhh, well, I used to drum, but now I sing." Noah informed him. He acted a little shy to even have it brought up so suddenly. He felt put on the spot.

He nods "I used to be in a band too."

"Really?" Noah moved a little closer towards Eddie leaving Julie behind at the other end of the couch.

"Yep, I used to play guitar and sing, actually." Eddie smiled and looked proud to be talking about his former band days again.

"I have some old stuff in my garage where my band "toured" for a bit and my old gear." He pointed behind him.

"Can we check it out?" Noah looked like a kid in a candy store when Eddie mentioned his old gear.

"Follow me," He grunted while getting out of his chair. His knees popped as he stood up. Years of hard work finally taking its toll on his body.

Julie just sat there watching her boyfriend and her dad, leaving her all alone in the living room. You were busy in the kitchen cutting cake and putting the pieces onto plates.

"Guys, dessert is ready!" You jogged to the living room to find it empty except for your daughter.

She rolled her eyes "they're in the garage."

You couldn't help but chuckle.

All day, you had anticipated this first meeting to be a disaster. Now you have your husband and your daughters boyfriend playing guitar together. You know Eddie didn't have a mean bone in his body. Even at his cruelest, he was still considered nice to most.

"Think dad likes him?" Julie crossed her arms, looking annoyed. She was being sarcastic. You could tell by her tone.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying hard not to laugh. "He hates him, I'm sure."

You could hear them both screeching from out back. Heavy metal loudly playing, and Eddie's old guitar plugged in. You and your daughter sat eating dessert, trying to drown out all the music. The night ended with Noah being invited back over next weekend. While Eddie was upstairs putting ice on his now sore neck. He forgot his age for a few hours and became that young twenty something man again.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #dad!eddie x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson

1K notes · View notes

waywardcrow · 5 months

Text

Dress.

Summary: After a mission where they crossed a line, Bucky decides to talk about what happened that night with you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader.

WC: Almost 1600.

TW: Avengers kind of things, talk about weapons, sad reader and sad Bucky, misunderstendings, agents talking shit because of jealousy, SMUT (do not interact if you're not +18) some kissing, dancing and boners lol, semi public make out, oral (f recieving) fingering, hint of other things but not so much because I'm so bad a t this, sorry, let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

You hated everything that night, the happy people who were eager to get drunk and forget about the ending year, the music too loud that didn’t let you think, the beautiful dress you bought for that very occasion specifically because you wanted to impress a certain super soldier in the New Year's Eve party but that was before last mission, before you messed it all up.

If you closed your eyes, you could see everything playing perfectly in your mind, how unprofessional you were, how much space Bucky put between you two in the quinjet, the tension that followed you the last days and the words of the agents who probably knew about what happen from him. It was a disaster and you wouldn’t escape from it, Tony would never let you go without an explanation if you requested a transfer to another area.

Distracted, drinking your problems you didn’t noticed Bucky’s gaze tearing apart the pretty gold dress you were wearing as if he could feel your skin against his like that night.

It was a simple mission, find the target, watch it until Valkyrie and Wanda could secured the evidence –an arsenal of Asgardian weapons- and then arrested everyone but your cover was necessary and thanks to your powers, the ability to manipulate brain’s perception to make your audience see what you want- make you perfect to blend with him in that shady club pretending to be just a couple looking for a good time.

Easier to say than done, Bucky fought his boner all night with you dancing too close to him, whispering things in his ear, sitting in his lap… sure you could feel how much he wanted to fuck you there in front of everybody, he indulged in his little fantasy when he feel your own arousal, he told himself it was for the mission when he took you to a semi empty corridor to kiss you dumb.

You tasted better than he imagined, like honey and salvation, Bucky was sure that if he kept kissing you he would find heaven.

“Are you ok, terminator? You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm” Sam pulled him out of his mind just in time before he got in trouble righ there in the middle of the party.

“I’m fine” he wasn’t and Sam let out a chuckle.

“Just go and talk to her, you can’t keep avoiding each other forever.”

You were avoiding him, Bucky just gave you space after you walked away from him when the mission was over, like he didn’t almost cum from having you exactly where he wanted you, with your perfect legs around him with just a thin layer of clothes between you.

“I said I’m fine” he said again, not looking at Sam when you made your way to the elevators, going after you.

It was better for you to leave early, too many drinks and you could end up crying or doing something you’ll regret, like talking to Bucky, who jumped in the elevator you called before the doors closed.

“Going to bed already?” he asked and you stared at him like an idiot, how could he look that good all the damn time? A black suit and white shirt shouldn’t make someone that hot, it was cheating “are you alright, honey?”

How have you missed his voice! A simple taste of him and you wanted more, you wanted him to touch you like that night, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like if time was against you both and every second he wasn’t making you feel all of him was a sacrilege.

“Why are you here, Bucky?”

Cornered, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, drawing his attention to your breasts, the memory of his lips pulling softly at your nipple made you want to close your legs to get some sort of friction, trying to calm the need for him.

Like he could read your mind, he licked his lips, wanting to pull your dress and bury himself in your chest but Bucky needed to have a conversation with you first.

“Are you going to avoid me forever, hon?” the super soldier lifted your chin to make you see him when you set your eyes in your heels “I can take a rejection, sweetheart but not you shutting me out completely.”

Bucky had made lots of friends with time but you were his first one, he didn’t want to lose you; you, in the other hand, were more confused than ever.

“What rejection? If anything, you’re the one who is not interested!” boldness coming from the alcohol made you talk before thinking about stopping “and don’t give me that look James Buchanan Barnes, you know perfectly what I’m talking about.”

The elevators door opened and you stormed out, going to you room, the audacity of that man!

“Can you explain to me what are you talking about?” Bucky took your hand and made you face him when you reached your door, all his cocky attitude was replaced by confusion.

“Please don’t pretend you didn’t tell Carla and Ashley what happen that night, I heard them talking the morning after in the gym” Above all the embarrassment there was hurt, you thought he could be trusted but Bucky proved you were an idiot “they were talking how you hated being assigned with me and to pretend to make out with me.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest, what the hell were you talking about? He didn’t say anything, at all but you looked so sure he couldn’t speak.

“You made it very clear putting distance between us in the ride home but you didn’t have to tell them” your voice trembled, still you refused to cry, if that was the kind of man Bucky was, he didn’t deserve your tears.

“I swear I didn’t say anything, honey, I swear” he promised, making himself small to look at your eyes “I don’t know how they know, please believe me.”

You shake your head; you wanted to believe him but…

“I told no one, I really thought you were mad at me for taking advantage of the situation, that I misread it” he mumbled, desperate to prove you he was telling the truth, taking your face in his hands “I should have been more professional, more of a gentleman, ask you properly on a date, not acting like that, no matter how much I wanted it. That’s why I put space between us; Wanda and Val were looking at me like they would spray me with cold water if I breathed near you.”

Bucky wished you could read his mind to see he was honest but you still could, sensing his desperation matching yours.

“Do you really mean that?”

His heart broke at how unsure you sounded, he would spend every day of his life proving to you how much he meant it.

“I do, honey, you’re not only a friend to me, why do you think I requested to be with you in that mission?” with his arms around your waist, you put your hands in his chest to feel his heartbeat “I can’t be apart from you, I needed you close while I was gathering courage to confess my feelings but then I couldn’t hide it and…”

You interrupted him to kiss him, not giving a damn about anything but Bucky’s lips in yours. He opened the door and you took him with you to your room, tossing his jacket to the floor and taking your heels off.

“You should keep them on” he said between kisses, guiding you to your bed.

“Maybe next time” you promised, opening his dress shirt, he gave you a smirk while he took it off, like he couldn’t wait.

“This dress has to go, even if I love it.”

“I only bought it for you to take it off” you confessed, mesmerized by his hands undressing you before he placed you softly in your bed, earning a grin from him.

“Really? Well, you deserve a reward for thinking about me, honey”

Before you could ask, he was with his knees on the floor, ripping your panties to eat you out like he needed it to keep breathing.

It barely gave you time to let out a lewd moan that only encourage him more, putting your legs in his broad shoulders, nipping at your sensitive bud and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

It was real? It was the alcohol? You could think so if it wasn’t very improbable, your imagination couldn’t make this up, not something this good at least.

“Please” you begged and he shove one finger in you, then almost immediately another while licking you and going back to your clit, moaning at the taste of you, humping the mattress to get some relief, especially when you pulled at his short locks, making him groan.

“Bucky! Pleaseplease…” were the only words you could form but then he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue and you were gone, the orgasm hit you like a thousand waves and you could swear you fainted for a second, only coming back to yourself when you tasted your own arousal in his kiss.

Surprised to being this responsive with him, you kissed him back and he looked at you, fire blazing in his eyes.

“Come back to me, honey, we are just getting started” he promised against your lips and dear God, he was a man of his word. Hors later, the fireworks were loud enough outside but you both couldn’t care less, you finally have what you wanted: each other.

So this is my first time writing smut and I wanted to do it for New year's Eve, it was fun! Tell me what you think and happy new year!

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes angst

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slow-motionlovepotion · 1 year

Text

𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 | 𝒋.𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Joel Miller x f!Reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.6K - this was not meant to be this long, oops.

𝒂/𝒏: I'm feral for Joel Miller and I won't apologise for that. This ended up so much softer than I planned but Joel Miller deserves to be loved, goddmit. part two is already in progress ~ no beta, we die like men

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ - smut, post-apocalypse, pre-Ellie, age gap (mid/late 20s!reader x early 40s!Joel), first time, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it kids), Joel Miller has a big dick, risky creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, manhandling, angst, implications of rape (does not involve reader or Joel), soft!Joel, fluff, idiots in love, innocence kink, Joel Miller is down bad. - minors do not interact.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

Joel had found you cowering in the corner of a store in some godforsaken town somewhere in deep Texas, the twitching body of an infected splayed in front of you. He’d eyed you cautiously, keeping his distance, gun pointed directly at you, not afraid to pull the trigger.

“No, please, no. I’m okay, I’m fine, not bitten. I promise. Please” you were frantic, begging for your life.

“Just the one?” He’d asked, voice gruff and dark, he exuded danger.

You nodded “It was out the back, I checked but I didn’t see it, then it just came out of nowhere”

He nods once “You alone?”

“Yeah, it’s just me” you hadn’t moved from your spot on the floor, hands raised in surrender, shaking in fear.

“Christ” the man mutters more to himself than to you, giving you the once over he lowers the gun “C’mon, I’m not leaving you here”

Your time together was meant to be brief, Joel had planned to find you somewhere safe to stay, people you could live your life with, some sense of normality. Life would never be like it was before the outbreak but maybe he could find you a new version of living.

It took two months to find the first group of settlers but Joel didn’t even let you near them, he’d checked them out alone, swiftly deciding it wasn’t a safe place for you, he didn’t say why. Another six months until the next group, they initially seemed better but the cries echoing outside the commune at night told Joel all he needed to know.

It’s been exactly 2 years since he found you in that abandoned store, you’d managed to survive for six months, barely, living in a constant state of fight or flight. And then Joel came, Joel who took a chance on you, who shared his supplies and taught you to survive. Joel, who stood watch and let you sleep despite being exhausted himself, who bandaged your wounds, and made his own life harder just to make yours a little bit easier.

Joel, who would watch the world burn just to make sure you were safe.

You could still to this day, pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Joel Miller. You watched the world burn. Well not the world, just a decrepit cabin on the side of a road somewhere in Texas. He'd thought it was safe, he’d checked and double checked, the place was free of infected, or so he thought. The thick knit of your scarf was the first thing that saved your life that night, when the infected had come at you from behind, jumping out of the dark and going for your neck. Joel hadn’t even hesitated, gun drawn and a bullet in its skull before you could even cry out for help. He’d reached for you, entwining his fingers with yours as he dragged you out of the building, kicking the cap off a gas canister as he went and throwing a lighter behind him as the door had shut. He pushed you ahead of him, protecting your body from the flames licking at the dry timber frame behind him.

You realised you loved him, were in love with him, laying on the dusty ground, with Joel’s imposing body shielded yours. You felt safe, he was firm behind you, chest heaving with laboured breaths, arms wrapped around you, keeping you close, muttering softly into your ear, “it’s okay, it’s okay, I got ya”.

So by the time you came across the third group you’d become quite the survivor. Joel had taught you to defend yourself, how to shoot a gun, how to actually use a knife, the weak spots of a man. You’d wondered why he was teaching you this, why you needed to know how to break the grasp of hands around your throat, how to use his body weight against him. When you’d stumbled across a group of men, animals really, surrounding a woman on her knees, her sobs echoed in your ears and you’d immediately searched for Joel, hands shaking as you grasped at his arms, eyes wide and terrified, you finally understood.

“They… they. Shit Joel, they were…” He didn’t need you to finish, he knew what they were doing. Within 20 minutes he had you both packed and on the road.

You felt like you’d been walking for weeks, in reality it had only been three days but you were exhausted. You were heading East, Joel had heard about a group of women that had settled just across the state border. You trudged slowly behind Joel, the unseasonable heat making you sweat, boots kicking up dust with every step, lost in your own thoughts.

“What’s bugging you?” Joel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts

“We should’ve helped her,” you confessed. It didn’t sit right, that you just left her there for those men to take what they wanted

“There’s nothing we could’ve done, no guarantee she’d be safe in the next place” he’d explained softly

“Is that why you’ve not left me?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it.

Joel stops, his eyes meet yours but he doesn’t answer, he can’t, can’t admit that he won’t leave you, can’t admit why he won’t leave you. He can’t admit that he loves you.

Darkness has fallen by the time you reach a safe house, a favour from a friend, he’d said. The house was neat, tidy and clean, if not a bit dusty. Joel clears downstairs first, checks upstairs and calls you up to the bedroom. A small puff of dust is released from the bed as he drops your bags. One bed. There’s two of you and more than one bedroom, but you know he won’t let you out of his sight. He won’t risk it.

“Joel?” you croak, voice trembling as you sit on the end of the bed.

“Hmm?” He’s stood by the dresser opposite the bed, removing his jacket and boots.

“I… there’s something- uhh, shit” you pause, taking a shaky breath “listen, please don’t make a big deal of this but I want you to fuck me”

“Darlin’, I’m not gonna do that” he responds almost immediately, doesn’t give himself time to even think about it, doesn’t let himself indulge in the possibility.

Not that he’s not thought about it, God knows he has. He’s wanted you, wanted to feel your lips on his, feel your nails claw at his back as he takes you. But you never gave any indication you wanted it too, so he stayed respectful, well, as respectful as he could. There’d been nights he’d fisted his cock, your name a whisper on his lips as he came into his hand, while your sleeping body lay just inches away.

“Please” you barely whisper, he goes to speak, to reject you again, but you cut him off, “Joel, please. I don’t- I want it to be you, I don’t want it to be like that” your eyes are pleading, silently begging “please”

“You’ve not…? There’s not been anyone?” He asks tentatively, hoping he’s misunderstood, that you’re not actually asking that of him, he crosses the room, sitting next to you on the end of the bed.

“I’ve been kinda busy, what with the end of the world and all that” you try and make a joke but it falls flat, sobering, shining a light on all the ways your life has been taken away from you, all the experiences you’ve missed out on.

It shouldn’t be him, he knows it shouldn’t, he’s so much older, he’s cruel and ruthless and angry. You deserve something else, soft, gentle, loving. He can’t give you that.

But if he doesn’t, if he says no and doesn’t do this for you, there’s no guarantee the next guy is going to love you, no guarantee that he won’t hurt you. For Joel, that decides it, he can’t give you what you deserve but he can give you something better than what’s out there.

Cautious fingers on his leg startle him out of his thoughts, “Just once, just this once” His agreement doesn’t soothe you, it ignites something, butterflies rolling in your belly; you want this.

You’d seen other men on your travels, the way they treated women, both good and bad. You’d thought, naively, that Joel might be like that too, that Joel might take you to his bed, fuck himself into you then roll over, pretend it never happened. But he never did, always respectful, barely ever touching you unless he had to, you’d shared beds, and bandaged each other up, but he’d never touched, never taken it further. “All right?” He nudges when you don’t respond

You nod tightly and whisper a “thank you”, sitting quietly in awkward silence, you don’t know what to do next, you’ve read books, you knew how to do this before but you didn’t know how to deal with an arrangement like this.

Joel breaks the silence first “Do you want to… tonight or would you rather w-?”

“Tonight,” your response is a bit quick and Joel huffs an almost laugh “tonight is good”

You don’t know how to phrase ‘lets just get it over and done with’ when you’re about to fuck someone for the first time. He stands then, grabbing something from his bag then dropping it to the floor. Liquid sloshes as Joel brings the flask to his lips, drawing in three times, brow furrowed. He hands the flask to you “Drink” and the look in his eyes tells you not to question him.

You take a sip and nearly retch, the taste burning your throat and nose, eyes watering. You hadn’t liked whiskey much before and while it’s rare to find anything else these days, you still hadn’t got used to the taste. You take another sip, stomaching this one better. You hold the flask back out to Joel and he takes another drag before placing it on the dresser with slightly more force than he meant.

In two steps he’s back across the room, his hands finding your face, calloused fingers dragging along the skin of your jaw, bringing you to meet his lips. The kiss is bruising and feverish, hot lips pressing to yours, he licks into your mouth and you moan, it’s sinful and sweet and Joel wants more. He wants to pull more pretty noises from you, wants to hear you scream his name. His cock responds eagerly, hardening in his jeans, he’s not felt desire like this in years, it’s burning through his blood, overwhelming his senses.

Joel stands between your legs, tilting your chin up, bringing a knee to rest on the mattress between your thighs. One of his large hands moves to support your neck, the other tracing the line of your throat, gripping gently. The kiss has grown sloppy, Joel is breathing hard, nipping at your lips. His knee between your legs moves to press into your clothed core and despite the layers of fabric you can feel the heat of his thick thigh, your hips roll, chasing more pleasure and a groan escapes your throat unexpectedly.

Joel’s hand drops from your throat, following the neckline of your shirt, down between your breasts, flicking the buttons open, exposing you to the humid air. He pushes the flannel off your shoulders, taking the straps of your bra with it, reaching behind you to unclasp it, inwardly pleased he managed the first try.

You slide your hands to his waist, dragging his shirt with you, brushing your fingers across bare skin. Your fingers trace the waistband of his jeans but he reaches for your hands, wrapping a large hand around your wrists he pushes you flat, pinning your arms above your head. The other hand joins his knee between your legs, fingers teasing the seam of your jeans.

“You asked me to fuck you,” he pulls a nipple into his mouth, teeth nibbling at the sensitive bud “n’ I will” It may have been a while but it’s really just second nature to him and he feels you shiver beneath him “gonna make you feel good darlin’”

“Joel” Your throat is dry and your voice cracks but it’s enough, his hands reach for the button of your jeans, working them down your legs while his mouth assaults your breasts. You can’t focus, it’s too much, his mouth, hands, the feel of his body, large and imposing over yours. He finally gets your jeans off, discarding them to the floor.

You reach for him, finding the buttons of his shirt, tugging gently but making your intentions clear, he allows your trembling fingers to fumble with the buttons for a minute before helping you, making quick work of the buttons, all but ripping the shirt down his arms, throwing it to the floor behind him before positioning himself between your thighs.

Joel’s hand runs up your outer thigh, fingers digging into the flesh of your bum. He trails kisses over your skin, behind your ear, down your jaw, across each of your breasts, fingers playing with the nipple neglected by his mouth. He moves his head down your exposed torso, tongue tasting the salty sweat on your skin you gasp softly as he reaches the waistband of your underwear, black lace, a little luxury that makes you feel pretty and feminine. He nudges the fabric with his nose, breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver,

“You don’t have to” you whisper into the darkness.

A soft “yeah I do” is mumbled into your skin. He makes quick work of removing your underwear, dragging the lace down your legs and dropping them to the floor in a rather obscene gesture.

His mouth is back on your hips working his way to nuzzle at your folds, leaving open mouthed kisses and grazes of his teeth on your skin. His hands press against the back of your thighs, pushing your knees up to your chest, spreading you wide. Joel’s eyes roll back in his head at the sight of you, pussy glistening in the dim light, the low growl that sounds in his chest shakes the bed and it takes all his restraint to take it slow, make it good for you.

“This all for me?” He rubs his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it up to your clit, circling the little bundle. You look down at him between your spread thighs and nod.

The sound you make when Joel flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt is unholy, and when he flicks his tongue against your clit you can’t help the way a hand reaches for his hair and tugs, nor can you help the sharp cry of his name.

Languid, is the word you’d use to describe the way Joel works at your cunt. Long, slow, lazy circles around your swollen clit, soft passes over the entrance to your cunt, not giving you more than that for what feels like hours. You catch on, quite quickly, that this is as much for Joel as it is for you, and you think he might be enjoying it the most.

Joel hums around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, and the arch of your back is violent, a stark contrast to Joel’s gentle movements, biting down on the fleshy part of your thumb to muffle your scream.

“Don’t do that” a hand reaches up in the dark to pull your fist from your mouth, “wanna hear you” his breath is hot against your core, tongue lapping at you like a man starved.

You’re hot, skin prickly with a layer of sweat, hips rolling, pushing your soaked pussy into Joel’s face, your clit catching on his nose as he teases your entrance with his tongue.

“Jo-el” your voice is whiny to your own ears and your face heats at the sound “more, please more”

Joel lets out a hum at your request, bringing two thick fingers to slide into you and already you feel the intoxicating spark of your orgasm approaching. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and the feeling shoots straight to his cock.

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, your grip in his hair painful even to you. “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, Joel”

You’re so close that when Joel crooks his fingers and continues his assault on your clit, your orgasm tears through you. You stiffen, hissing a “Yesss”through gritted teeth, hands clawing at the sheets and Joel’s hair.

“‘Atta girl” he coos around your clit “tha’s it baby” The sound of Joel’s voice is muffled by the ringing in your ears and when you open your eyes all you can see is stars, flashes of white clouding your vision.

Sensing his movement, you open your eyes and when they’ve adjusted to the darkness again, you can see the burly outline of Joel kneeling between your legs, his eyes drag down your body, fingers of his left hand gently caressing the bend of your knee. You sit up, reaching for his belt, tugging at the buckle. Joel watches as you pull his belt free, fingers ghosting over his length confined in the denim as you pull down the zip.

When your fingers dip inside to grasp him he can’t stop the choked “fuck” that escapes his throat. Pulling him free of his boxers, your jaw drops at the size, fuck he’s thick, so thick, and swaying heavily between his legs, dripping with precum. With hesitant fingers you run the pad of your thumb down his slit, smearing the fluid, stopping to rub your thumb on the underside of his head. Joel can’t help the jerky twitch of his hips at the stimulation. You take that as a positive, repeating the action once, twice more, before calloused hands still your movements. You look up to Joel, confusion clear on your face.

“Won’t last if you keep that up” Joel explains, his voice a whisper, vulnerability evident even in his low tone.

You release his length from your grasp, bringing your thumb coated in his arousal to your mouth, sucking tentatively. You don’t notice Joel watching you through hooded eyes, but he makes quick work of his jeans and boxers, kicking the offending fabric off as quick as his aching bones will let him.

Experienced hands lift your legs to hook over his hips as he settles himself between your thighs again. You can feel the thick length of Joel’s cock pressed firmly against you, sliding through the wetness left by his mouth and your orgasm as he ruts against you. It takes the entirety of Joel’s willpower to not fuck into you, coming back to himself, he remembers why he’s doing this.

“Gotta tell me if y’need to stop” he slurs against your temple and he feels you nod as he presses a soft kiss to your clammy skin. Joel rests the heavy weight of his cock against your entrance, running the head between your folds, bumping your clit and soaking himself with your wetness. He presses himself in to your tight heat and you feel like you’re being split open, wincing at the burn “I know, ‘m sorry darlin’, it won’t hurt for long promise”

Joel pushes your sweat-damp hair out of your face, big hands cupping your face, open mouth dragging against yours. He tries to distract you with wet kisses to your jaw but when he pushes himself deeper you cry out, hands flying to claw at his hips, stopping him from moving any further.

“We can stop” Joel mutters into your open mouth but you give a quick shake of your head

“No. I’m okay, I’ll be okay” The feeling is foreign, neither his fingers or tongue could’ve prepared you for the stretch of his cock, nor the desperate ache that settled deep inside you, the one you know only Joel can satisfy.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, and it’s taking everything in him to hold still

“Eyes on me darlin’” Joel orders as he pries your hand off his hip, entwines his fingers with yours, and pins your hand to the mattress. Your eyes meet through the darkness and there’s a softness in Joel’s eyes you wish you could bottle and keep.

You tense up in anticipation of Joel’s next movement, squeezing your cunt around Joel’s cock

“Fuckin’ Christ darlin’, y’gotta relax, just relax” you will your body to relax, to release the squeezing of your core, “that’s it, doin’ so good, you’re doin’ so good. Takin me so well” and yes, you keen at his praise, the throb of arousal in your stretched cunt is heavenly and Joel takes your moment of distraction to sink the rest of his length into you.

“Fuck” you whimper, the sharp stretch shocks you, eyes widening.

He shudders a breath above you, “‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry”

“So big Joel. ‘T hurts” you practically sob and the sound breaks his heart in ways he didn’t expect. Joel breaks eye contact first, fixing his eyes on where you’re currently impaled on his cock. He moves to pull out but you tighten your thighs, keeping him still “No, don’t. Don’t wanna stop. Just give me a minute” you close your eyes and breath in deep through your nose, letting a shaky breath out.

“Touch yourself,” Joel orders, bringing your hand still clutching his to his mouth, wetting your fingers with his tongue before pressing your fingers against your clit “‘t’ll make you feel better”

You obey, stroking your bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm “that feel good?” He asks as you tighten involuntarily around him.

“Yes,” you pause for a moment, continuing to stroke at your clit. Warmth blooms under your fingers, arousal spreading through your body, loosening your muscles, the discomfort subsides, leaving behind a different kind of ache “can you move? Please”

The way you ask him, with your pleases and thank yous, still so polite despite the harsh world you live in, it’s innocent and sweet, and he loves it. It activates something primal in him, some deep desire to protect you, to please you. To pleasure you.

Joel settles his knees wide on the mattress, pulling his cock from your depths before pushing back in slowly, when you don’t stop him he repeats the action. “shit darlin’, so fuckin’ tight”, and he’s not wrong, the girth of his cock is stretching you in ways you’ve never been before, you can feel every vein, every ridge, every goddamn fucking inch as he works himself in and out of you. It’s steady, controlled, almost gentle, the way he rolls his hips, leaving enough space between you for your fingers to continue working your clit, not that you need the distraction anymore.

He could cum right there, your aching cunt absolute bliss around him. The whine that leaves your throat is of pleasure not pain and the tightness in his chest borders on uncomfortable. He’s done this before, he’s experienced, he’s had women screaming his name but nothing compares to the breathy sound of his name leaving your lips. You’re so sweet, eyes fluttering, fingers ghosting across the skin of his hips, the softness of his belly, the firm muscles of his chest and his broad shoulders.

You could pretend, wrapped up in Joel like this, that it’s not the end of the world, that this comfy bed in this nicely decorated house is yours and Joel’s. You pretend, just for a minute, as he’s fucking himself into you, that he’s yours. Your hands reaching to wrap around his back, nails scratching at the muscles working beneath the skin, it’s intimate.

You feel his pace falter, “‘m close darlin’” he mumbles into the thick air above you, “fuck, y’gotta come for me baby, come on” it sounds like he’s begging and you find that you quite like the sound of Joel begging, especially when he’s begging you to cum for him.

He can see you’re close, legs twitching, breathing heavy, he can feel the tell-tale flutters in your cunt and he knows “what d’ya need?” He pants, chasing your high, no care or regard for his own anymore, he just wants you to get there.

“Joel, I need mo-” he drives himself into you deeper, tilting his hips to rub his cock against your sweet spot. With fluttering eyes and heaving chest you whine a tight “that’s it” fingers working furiously at your clit, hips rocking down as you meet his thrusts “Joel, yes” you groan, the sound reverberating in your chest.

He feels your cunt squeeze him “tha’s it, good girl”, he needs to stop or he’ll cum but you don’t care, continuing to rock your hips, thrusting down forcefully against him, cock reaching deeper than you thought possible and you tense, muttering a “fuck” as you cum hard around him. You can’t comprehend that this is what it feels like, the violent quivering of your muscles, tight and squeezing. Fuck, you don’t want to let this feeling go, Joel’s cock buried so deep inside you it hurts, you never want to cum without this ever again.

Joel gives a few tight thrusts, “Shit, what a sight” He has to pull out, he can’t cum inside you, can’t take the risk but the rhythmic pulsing of your walls is dragging him kicking and screaming to the edge. You let out a breathy “inside Joel, inside,” the way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine, but the way you moan the softest “please” has him cumming, cock twitching violently, hips rocking, pushing his release deeper.

His mouth meets yours roughly, ragged groans escaping between harsh kisses as he continues to pump inside you. He can’t remember the last time he came this hard, beyond satisfied and completely drained but he still can’t break his lips from yours. The kiss is soft now, tender and lazy, something close to loving. His sweaty weight above you is grounding, bringing you back to reality.

Joel groans and drops his forehead to your chest, cock still buried deep you can sense his reluctance to part from you, you tangle your fingers in his hair, allowing him to rest against you. He stays for a minute or two before groaning, aging knees and shoulders protesting as he hovers over you.

He moves slowly, dragging his softening cock out from your over sensitive heat and you moan low in the back of your throat as he disappears, returning from the en-suite with a damp towel,

“There’s warm water” he mumbles as he wipes the towel gently between your legs. You hum contentedly, your tired body drowsy and dopamine drunk. You briefly think about the long hot shower you’re going to take in the morning when the bed dips next to you and Joel reaches for you, rolling you into his side, your head on his chest. If you had more energy you’d say something but the gentle caress of Joel’s thumb behind your ear and the slow thump of his heartbeat quickly has your eyes closing and your breath steadying.

“Was that” Joel pauses, what, good? All right? Just okay? he thinks it’ll kill him if it was bad for you

“Good, it was good” you offer him a soft smile “thank you”

“Christ darlin’ so fuckin’ polite” he can feel himself stirring again beneath the sheets, and fuck he’s depraved, he’s convinced you could make him cum just by saying please.

Joel must think you’re asleep and you feel it more than you hear it, his whispered admission of “love you” spoken into your hair as he presses soft kisses to the top of your head.

𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #joel tlou #joel miller one shot #delicate | j miller #love potion writes #love potions writing #han writes

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laracrofted · 1 year

Text

supernova

synopsis: in a game of truth or dare, you reveal your dream threesome.

pairings: natasha trace x fem!reader x bob floyd

warnings: 18+ minors dni, ageless blogs that interact will be blocked, explicit smut (f/f/m threesome, oral sex, unprotected sex, blink and miss it choking, sort of dom phoenix, edging, cum eating, orgasm denial, overstimulation) and like, swearing lmao (wc: 3.2K)

notes: a little something something for my fellow bisexuals during pride month 🌈 and yes, i defeated awful writer's block with horniness and so can you 💖

much love to @sushiwriterhere @theharddeck @sometimesanalice and @roosterbruiser for letting me bounce many depraved thoughts off of them and i'm summoning a few people who might be interested: @princessphilly @seresinsweetie @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @bradshawsbitch @i-wanna-be-your-muse @sebsxphia and also no one look at me

“Anyone would want to sleep with me. I’m the most fuckable person in this room. Ask anyone.”

"What's Hangman so up in arms about now?" Phoenix asks, sounding unimpressed. She leans against the pool cue, waiting for Fanboy to make his shot, and cracks her knuckles with one hand.

You shrug. "Who knows."

Honestly, you can't even remember who made the comment that got him so worked up, so defensive over his own sex appeal. His general fuckability – which as a side note, you're pretty sure is not a real word.

Maybe Rooster, actually probably Rooster.

Regardless, Hangman has decided to make them all suffer the consequences, going on and on and on.

"Fine," Rooster manages, choking down a laugh, almost always given away in the unmistakable twitching of the overgrown ferret on his upper lip. "Go ahead. Ask anyone then, Hangman. This will be good."

You are minding your own goddamn business in the corner of the common room, sipping a canned red wine that isn't half bad for the price. It is sweet, a little bubbly, pleasant.

You press your lips against the cool edge and are in the middle of a sip when Hangman catches your eye, a sharklike gleam in his green eyes.

Is it worse to make eye contact or break it? Is that bears or sharks who see it as a challenge?

And in truth, Hangman is neither. He's more or less harmless with a sometimes sharp bite.

You lower the can, slow and suspicious, narrowing your eyes at him with a raised brow. “Can I help you, Hangman?”

Smirking, Hangman drawls, “You owe me a truth from earlier, ain't that right? You ran out on the game before I could get my question out."

You roll out a red carpet of curses in your brain and swallow another mouthful of the sweet red wine.

You'd gotten a call from the Domino's driver to come down and grab the pizzas from the front door before Hangman could ask whatever pointed – and alarmingly observant – question had popped into his scheming brain.

Everyone else has forgotten the game with some pizza in their stomach and a basketball game on the big screen, but clearly, Hangman has a good memory. Bastard.

"Fine. Hit me with your best shot, Hangman."

Fire away and all that.

His canines are gleaming white. "Who would you most want to have sex with in this room? No, wait, I should give everyone a fair chance of selection. Pick two."

"Together? Or separate?"

His brows raise, and Hangman's smirk deepens. "Well, damn. Someone's a little adventurous." Your eyes are practically slits now, staring him down. "Together. Who would you have a threesome with in this room? And unfortunately, no, I don't have a twin."

“My nightmare,” Phoenix mutters, and Fanboy shakes with silent laughter.

“Hmmm…”

An answer had popped into your head the second that Hangman asked, but in the name of suspense, you pretend to mull it over and really contemplate.

You look around the room. Halo and Fritz are on the sagging couch with Yale and Harvard in the opposite chairs, watching the game too closely to overhear this cursed conversation.

Bob and Fanboy are strategizing in the corner, but Bob is definitely listening. His shoulders don't look quite natural.

Across the pool table, Payback shows you his wedding band with a faux scolding expression. You grin.

“I guess I'd have to pick... Phoenix and Bob."

Rooster absolutely crows with laughter as Hangman goes into a full control-alt-delete shut down and reboot, blankly staring at you with disbelieving eyes and a slack jaw.

Someone should commemorate this moment. Add it to one of the frames in the Ready Room.

"Are you malfunctioning?" You drain the rest of the wine and drop the can into the nearest recycling bin. "You know I'm bisexual, right, Hangman?"

"But Phoenix and Bob?" Hangman splutters, as if recovering from an ordeal with a capital O. "I need the reason. Why would you pick them?"

You glance over at Phoenix, who is regarding both of them with a smug smirk. You don't dare look at Bob right now.

You smile, radiant and knowing, with a “Follow up questions aren’t part of the game, Hangman,” and breeze across the room for another can of wine, patting him on the shoulder.

"So..."

Five or so minutes later, Phoenix sidles up to you and sits on the arm of your chair, ignoring the perfectly good and empty chair in the corner. Her boot brushes against your leg.

She leans in, and Phoenix's familiar vanilla and amber scent washes over you.

"Am I allowed to ask a follow question?" A nod, and Phoenix looks kind of self-satisfied. Kind of smug. "Did you mean it? Or were you just kicking the chair out from under Hangman? Because..." She lowers her voice, all smoke and velvet. "I had fun with you before. Just us."

"Both..." You pause. "I kind of wanted to knock him on his ass, but also, I was very much serious."

Her smile widens, and Phoenix leans in more, brushing the shell of your ear in a puff of warm breath. "Meet me in my room in 20 minutes."

Her canine grazes your earlobe for a brief second.

You blink, dazed, and Phoenix is already walking away.

"What about...?"

What about Bob? is the question on the tip of your tongue, but obviously, you can't call that out in this room. He is still here somewhere.

She looks over her shoulder, dark eyes warm with want and promise, and mouths, "20," with a wink.

A little over 20 minutes later, Phoenix has your wrists pinned down on her soft sheets, nudging under your chin with her slender nose in search of the sensitive spot on the side of your neck.

Her bottom lip drags against it.

You bite down on a moan, and in retaliation, Phoenix bites the spot harder.

"I want to hear you," Phoenix murmurs, an order wrapped in a pretty bow. "You sound so pretty, angel."

She kisses you again and sucks your bottom lip between hers, making it impossible to bite down on.

And with intent, Phoenix slides a smooth thigh between your legs, dragging her knee against the red flash of fabric that covers your cunt and grinds down.

"Come on. Let me hear you."

A drawn out moan escapes your mouth, and right then, Bob walks in.

He closes the door behind him, oblivious, and then, spots you both and freezes.

"Phoenix?" Bob manages, sounding uncertain. His eyes are wide and blue behind the wire frames. "You said 30 minutes, right? Should I – I can come back. We can catch up another time."

Despite the words, Bob doesn't move. He looks down, cheeks pink and flushed, but doesn't move.

"Don't worry, Bob." Phoenix releases your arms and climbs over the edge of the mattress with a smile. Walks over to him in an electric blue bra and underwear set that looks downright radiant against her dark hair.

She looks like a goddess.

"You want him here, don't you, angel?"

She circles behind him, sliding the plaid button-down shirt from his broad shoulders. It crumples to the carpet without resistance as Bob raises his chin and meets your eyes.

"You told me before," Phoenix prompts. "Tell him."

He is watching you, waiting on your answer with bated breath.

A long breath releases from your mouth.

You push up on your elbows, then your knees, wanting to see him more clearly.

“Earlier with Hangman… I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted both of you. I want you – both of you – to fuck me."

His Adam’s apple moves as Bob swallows, sudden and hard.

He looks surprised. He shouldn't be.

He's always felt a little out of reach, so damn nice. You didn’t want to freak him out – or worse, offend him with a casual invitation to very casually fuck your brains out and maybe, let you suck his cock before or afterward.

You’re not picky. Whatever works for him.

You were pretty sure Bob was at least a little interested, but now... Bob only stares.

Phoenix gives him a gentle push and strolls over to the record player. She looks casual and languid, flipping through the records, but you're not so fooled. She's giving him a moment alone with you.

"Phoenix and I have... before, but I want you as much as I want her. Do you want me? is the only question, I guess."

He coughs into his elbow, messing with his lenses, which are fogging every so slightly. "I do. You're very pretty and nice, and I've... I mean, I do want you."

A smile dimples your cheek. "Oh, I'm pretty and nice, am I?"

"Shut up," Bob mutters under his breath with a slight smile. His ears are a little red.

You reach out and pull him closer to the mattress, pulling until Bob has to plant a knee on the edge to keep his balance. He watches you with wide eyes and says your name in a rush of breath – like a sharp wind over the ocean – and leans in, gravitating.

He cups your chin, slow and careful, pulling you in for a slow kiss that fizzles in your bloodstream like champagne. He is still giving you ample time to pull back and change your mind.

You deepen the kiss, even as Bob holds back.

You're still not sure Bob believes you.

Music swells from the corner, slow and sultry and sensual, as Phoenix settles behind you. She unlatches your bra and pushes it from your shoulders, running her fingers in soothing circles over the muscles.

She reaches between you and him, moving to cup your breasts, but at the last second, Phoenix skims her hand down the curve of your stomach and down and down, dipping under the waistband of your panties.

Clever fingers glide through your wetness, glancing off your clit in a tease that makes you whimper into Bob's mouth. A satisfied hum vibrates your back.

"So wet already, darling. We haven't done anything other than kiss you. You must really want us," Phoenix murmurs, warm against your ear, licking the sensitive patch of your neck again. "Come here, Bob."

She pulls you back from him with a hand around your throat – squeezing once, hard enough to make you feel light all over – and puts her glistening fingers in his open mouth.

His moan makes you even wetter.

You watch, breathless, as Bob closes his eyes and licks your taste from her fingers. His pupils are blown, eyes almost black, when Bob opens his eyes again.

His groan against your mouth is a rough sound, drawn out and unrepentant. He kisses you like religion, like a prayer.

Phoenix's voice is smug in your ear. "He believes me now."

You've been paired with Bob and Phoenix on enough exercises to know that the Naval aviators are an unstoppable pair in the air, cutting through the skies with grace and precision.

You'd imagined – more than once – that Bob and Phoenix would be an unstoppable pair in the bedroom as well. Sue you, okay? Who wouldn't?

Phoenix had been a force on her own, pinning you down and making your thighs shake over her shoulders; coaxing you to the edge and kicking you over without warning with a razor sharp smile that bordered on mean.

Bob always seemed so quiet. Seemed so unassuming.

But Bob dated, and on the one and only occasion the WSO brought a date back to the shared apartment complex, all of the Daggers had heard about the dying cat sounds that'd been loud enough to bleed through the walls. Hangman had been relentless.

You were seemingly the only one who could put the admittedly horrendous moaning aside and remember the other sounds.

(Oh, oh, Bob, oh, Bob. Fuck me. So good.)

You knew Phoenix was good in bed.

You had a feeling about Bob.

Together?

You were absolutely and without a shadow of a doubt right.

Phoenix is in the backseat for once but never ever on the sidelines. She seems to sense that the WSO might still need more reassurance, might need some control to feel wanted here.

She focuses on you, nibbling your neck and pinching your aching nipples, as Bob rests on the red and orange pillows, watching you swallow his cock, mesmerized.

You pull back, keeping him half in your mouth and circling his base with your hands, and run your tongue along the sensitive underside of him.

He bobs in your mouth, letting out a rough curse.

"Are you sure?" Bob had asked before, stilling the hands that were reaching for his zipper, running a thumb across the veins at the base of your wrist. "We can start with something else. I don't want you to feel pressure."

"Positive. I've wanted to suck your cock for about six months now."

He blinked, looking even more owlish with his glasses on the nightstand. "Six months? You've only been here for like six months."

You cut in, "And I wanted to suck your cock the whole damn time. Any other questions?"

He audibly swallowed, and Phoenix grinned.

You could easily get lost in him – lose minutes, even hours with the weight of him on your tongue and the sound of his broken moans in your ears – but Phoenix is too impatient to let that happen.

She nudges your soaked underwear to the side and pushes one, two, three of her fingers inside of you. You're wet enough that Phoenix doesn't meet any resistance.

"She's so fucking wet for you, Bob. Jesus Christ," Phoenix moans. A wet kiss is pressed into the curve of your shoulder, against the nape of your neck. "Should I make her come?"

God... and Phoenix says it like, What do you think, Bob? Am I clear? Should I take the shot?, in the same voice from the air. Asking him to weigh the pros and cons. Deferring to his decision.

You'll never be able to be paired with them on a drill again and not remember.

You would breathe a sigh of relief when Bob nods, except for... well, obvious reasons. You swallow around him, and Bob leaks against the back of your throat.

You're already aching, and Phoenix is pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. Pleasure is building in the pit of your stomach, and you need, you need, you –

"Or..." Phoenix drawls, easing up on the pressure, all casual and unaffected. She works you open, steady and constant, pinching the thigh that tries to rock you against her hand. "I could edge her for you. Make her wait to come on your cock."

God, Phoenix can be mean in bed. You'd almost forgotten.

You kind of hate her for it right now.

(You really don't.)

You whimper around Bob's cock and clench around Phoenix's fingers at the same time, digging your nails into the pale skin of Bob's muscular thighs, already bruised with a small love bite from earlier.

An abrupt fuck spills from Bob's bitten lips.

He pulls out of your mouth without warning, squeezing a hand around his base and screwing his eyes closed to keep from coming right then and there.

"Jesus Christ, Phoenix."

"So Bob seems to like that idea," Phoenix observes, almost conspiratorially. Her fingers catch your chin. "What about you, pretty girl? You want to come now or on Bob's cock?"

You are a little out of breath but no less certain.

"Do I even have to answer that?"

As a reward, Phoenix slips her tongue in your mouth and starts all over again, ever careful to pull back at the exact right moment when your breaths are short and your gaze is glassy and unfocused.

You are shaking and warm all over when Phoenix is satisfied, running her fingers through the arousal that slicks the inside of your thighs, underwear long discarded on the floor somewhere now.

"Can I..."

You are on your back now, and Bob leans over and sucks your nipples in his mouth. You lose focus, running your fingers over the hard length of him, smearing his pre-cum over the head.

"Can you what?" Phoenix prompts, ghosting a knuckle over your swollen clit. You quiver.

"I want to eat you out. Didn't get to do that last time, remember?"

You seize Bob's shoulder, keeping him pressed against your chest, and Bob makes a pleased sound, content to lavish your breasts with licks and nibbles right now.

You continue, "I want to eat you out while Bob fucks me."

"Well," Phoenix replies, breezily, brushing her hair over her shoulder and bends to suck on your other nipple. "We can probably make that work."

"Fuck," Bob breathes again.

You've never heard him curse so much, not even in actual missions.

A content sigh pushes everything else from your brain.

You lick at Phoenix again, licking a stripe up the center of her cunt, drowning in the warmth and silk, as Bob pushes into you from behind, bare and hard and so goddamn big.

Fuck is right.

"God..." Bob moans against your damp skin, pulling out and easing back in again. His accent comes out in bits and pieces, smoothing the edges from his words. "Feel so good. S'good for me. So good for us, darlin'."

You melt at the praise and nuzzle deeper into Phoenix with a sigh of pleasure, circling her clit with a content hum that makes her breath go all uneven and shuddering.

Satisfaction slides down your spine, warm and consuming.

You could stay here for hours between them. You would.

She's quick to instruct and correct, but once you're in a rhythm with your fingers hooked inside, Phoenix is nothing but moans and sighs and oh god, so good, oh god.

She comes in your mouth with a sharp gasp and rolls out from under you, which leaves Bob with enough room to double his efforts now.

He presses praise against your neck, circling his fingers around your clit with precision and attention; urging you to come for him with gentle pleas and deep thrusts and blissfully, a well-placed palm against your aching cunt.

You shatter around him as Bob spills inside of you.

Oh my god are the only words that are forming in your head right now. You want to say something else.

Holy shit maybe.

We should definitely do that again even.

But Phoenix doesn't give you even a second of peace.

"You're a mess, angel," Phoenix comments, light and almost mocking. She spreads your legs wide and looks you over. "Let me."

You expect Phoenix to wipe you down, but instead, Natasha presses her mouth against your sensitive cunt.

Stars erupt in your vision. Galaxies.

She licks and licks every inch of you, holding down your shaking legs, until you come again, damn near crying from the overstimulation, shuddering.

Wetness dampens the sheets underneath you, and Phoenix licks the cum that drips down your legs, some yours, some Bob's, and kisses you right on the mouth.

You definitely mean to get your clothes and pee and everything after, but Bob is warm against your side. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and passes out with an arm across your chest.

Sleep pulls you under soon after.

Phoenix is the first one to leave the bed and even then, only to put on a quieter record and go right back.

note: is she the filthiest smut piece i've ever written? maybe. she's named after red wine supernova by chappell roan, which is so fun and so queer and worth a listen 💖 leave a comment before i regain an ounce of shame.

#bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd smut #bob floyd smut #phoenix x reader #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace x you #natasha trace smut #natasha trace fic #bob floyd x reader x natasha trace #laracrofted writes #bob fucks #fic: bob floyd #fic: natasha trace

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incognit0slut · 1 year

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (5)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye

Part summary: Spencer’s lack of experience on the female anatomy is educated by her. wc: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murder

a/n: sorry it took me longer to update, kind of went through a writer’s block but finally got back the vibe

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER WAS A MAN ON A MISSION. His steps echoed on the marble floor the next morning as he entered the mundane space of the bureau, hand gripping the strap of his bag. The glass door separating the familiarity of his disorganized desk greeted him, but before he could enter the room, his heels turned towards a certain part of the office he was accustomed to.

He pushed the door at the end of the hallway to find Garcia typing away on her keyboard, her eyes fixated on the screen in front of her. The sudden sound of his arrival startled her before she swiveled in her chair, because the man standing by the door hardly visited her this early, especially when he still had his bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the good doctor." She leaned back in her chair and gave him a grin. "What do I owe the pleasure of your presence in the safety of my lair?"

Spencer took a cautious step into the room as he closed the door behind him. "I need you to find me an address."

"That is my specialty." She turned back to her monitors. "Hit me."

"Y/n L/n."

There was a heavy pause as her fingers hovered above the keyboard. The familiarity of the name had her eying him as he stepped into her line of vision. "Isn't she one of the witnesses you talked to last night?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yes, she is."

"And you need her address because...?"

"I..." A sense of dread and anxiety hit him as he felt the intensity of her scrutinizing gaze. "I—I have further questions to ask."

Garcia wasn't an expert in profiling, unlike most of her teammates, but she wasn't blind when it came to picking out other people's sudden change of composure. Spencer's usually calm demeanor was suddenly replaced with discomfort, something that rarely occurred unless the topic of conversation extremely flustered him.

"You know," she started, slightly twisting her body. "Morgan told me something interesting happened last night, and I'm usually not one to gossip—" She rolled her eyes at the look he gave her. "Alright, fine, maybe I am. But it's not gossip if it's true."

His face twisted into a frown. "What did he tell you?"

"That the pretty witness lady may or may not know you personally." When he didn't respond, she urged on, "So? Is it true?"

Spencer quickly dropped his gaze to the floor. He considered himself to be a very private person, one that didn't share much about their personal life. The introverted trait in him preferred the comfort of spending his time engrossed with his own thoughts than engaging in unnecessary, awkward conversations with others. So whenever he received attention regarding his private matters, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under the spotlight.

"I cannot confirm nor deny that."

She scoffed. "You do realize you're not making it any less suspicious, right?"

She then proceeded in typing the name of the woman he had met the previous night but immediately stopped, her eyes piercing back at him. "What?"

"I will give you the address if you tell me whether you need it for work or personal reasons."

This was why he disliked human interaction. Couldn't one go on with their own lifestyle without questioning another person's way of life?

He let out an irritated sigh. "Garcia."

"Reid."

He pondered whether he could get away without explaining the intention of his request. But this was Penelope Garcia, known to be relentless with an interest in exchanging information about the personal lives of the team members. There was no other choice than to cave in if he wanted to avoid her persistent persuasion, so he answered—although reluctantly—in a very low voice, "Personal reasons.”

"I knew it!" She gleefully laughed. She focused her attention back onto her monitor, her fingers working their wonders before a passport picture of a woman stared back at them through the screen. "Ooh, she's pretty."

She really was. The person staring back at him was smiling, something he hadn't seen the last time he saw her. Her smile was an incredibly beautiful thing to behold. It was also incredibly contagious as he found his lips curling into a smile of his own, his eyes scanning across every feature on her radiant face. He was completely enthralled, it was as if her beauty had a grip on him, putting him in some sort of trance.

She was absolutely beautiful.

"Do you want me to save her picture? Send it to your phone?"

He felt the warmth spreading along his cheeks. "No." He turned his gaze towards the address printed on the left side of the screen, memorizing the exact street and the number of her residential.

"When I said you were a Casanova, I didn't think it would come to this extent." He threw her a frown as she explained, "A few days ago you had a lady friend at your place, and now this."

Spencer pursed his lips together. His palms immediately began to sweat as she sent him a wicked grin. His silence was all that it took for her to bounce in her chair, hands clapping at the irony of the situation. "No way. Are you telling me this is the same woman you met at the bar? The same stranger you spent the night with is the exact witness you talked to last night?"

He turned on his heels. "Goodbye, Garcia."

"Wait—no!" She grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to face her again. "Oh my god, I am so invested. This is way more entertaining than the show I'm currently watching!"

He heaved out a sigh. "I'm glad you can find amusement in my misery."

"Misery? This isn't misery, sweetheart, this is amazing. When was the last time you were involved with someone?" Far too long, he thought to himself, but his answer must've shown across his face. "Exactly. Now, aren't you glad I didn't show up that night?"

He shook his head, deciding not to answer her question, and crossed his arms instead. "This stays between us, okay?"

She nodded eagerly. "Of course."

"And you can't even mention this to Morgan."

"What?" She groaned as he proceeded to scowl at her. "Alright, alright. He will not hear any of this."

He assessed her one last time, cautiously weighing any possibility of her bluff. But when she returned his gaze with a suddenly concerned stare, he had to double-check whether he was seeing right. The mischievous glint in her eyes was replaced by a deep sense of worry, her face melting into the familiar solemn look she flashed whenever she had something important to say.

"Hey, Reid." She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to the side. "You'll be careful, right?"

The sudden grimness of her tone caught him by surprise. "What do you mean?"

She paused for a moment, trying to sort out her words without wanting to offend him. "I just want to remind you that we're currently in the middle of investigating a case that involves her."

"She's only a witness," he pointed out.

"Doesn't make her any less important. Reid, when you're emotionally involved with anyone who is linked to a case we're working on, there's a high chance it can get messy. You know that."

Oh, how he knew that all too well. He knew how very unhealthy it could be, and how getting emotionally attached to someone involved in a case could lead to irrational or compromised decision-making. It could be a potential source of bias and it could make anyone put their personal feelings above what was best for the investigation. It could cloud people’s judgment. This was something that he would never recommend, something that he would urge anyone on the team to avoid doing.

So was he being rational now? Was running a background check on someone for personal reasons deemed appropriate?

Probably not. It was a very risky thing to consider, but Spencer was smart enough to understand how important it was to keep his emotions intact. The possibility of things getting out of hand would only happen if he couldn't keep it under control, which he was certain that he could, and he would never let anything stop him from doing his job.

"I'll be careful," he finally responded. "Thanks, Garcia."

"You are most definitely welcome, lover boy." She gave him a genuine smile before turning back toward her devices. "Now go and get your girl so I can go back to my work."

His body tensed. "She's not my girl."

She threw him a look that told him she didn't believe a word he said, something he was starting to question himself. He quickly shook his head and strode out of the room, completely denying Garcia's admission, because in his mind, Y/n was merely the stranger he met on one random night. She was simply the woman who ended up in his bed. She was the mysterious enigma who slipped into the night with nothing but a nod. She was the one who looked at him in disbelief at their unexpected encounter.

She was all of the things above, but she was definitely not his girl.

"You need to install a security camera."

Tapping her fingers lightly against the mug in her hands, eyes fixed on the black liquid of the freshly brewed coffee, Y/n blew out a rough breath. "Please worry about yourself."

"Or better yet, get a dog," the man across from her suggested. "Those big hound dogs that would scare people off. They can easily sense danger when they see one."

"Why would I need a dog when I have you?"

He frowned at her. "I'm being serious."

"And you think I'm not?"

He went completely still, his eyes trailing across her face. "Is that a trick question?"

She took a sip of the warm coffee, letting it calm her frustration as she pondered whether kicking him out of her own house was a better option than dragging him out through the door.

"Oliver," she muttered, her voice laced with annoyance while she carefully put down her mug on the countertop. "You have practically stationed yourself in my house, barking at anyone you think might be a potential danger."

"Y/n," he followed her gesture, leaning closer into the small space of her kitchen. "It's for your safety."

"You shouted at my mailman!"

"He took an awful lot of time talking to you."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to cause a scene in the sanctuary of her own home. She had woken up this morning, limbs tangled in her sheet and body aching from all the emotions she went through the previous night, and decided she would spend the day relaxing the tension in her nerves. Do some grocery shopping, head to the beauty salon to get a manicure and a nice haircut that was long overdue, and ravish herself with a delicious meal at the new restaurant she had been wanting to visit.

But all her plans went down the drain when she heard a loud knock the moment she opened her eyes. She found Oliver standing on her front porch, holding his trademark smile and amiable posture, before lunging at her with concern while asking a bunch of questions related to what had happened.

At first, she accepted his worry, what was she to do when a friend came to her house to make sure she was doing alright? But the longer he stayed the more she wondered whether letting him inside her home was the smartest thing to do. She knew Oliver was a very persistent person, but she wasn't aware of him being this insufferable.

"You know what would make me feel safe?" She walked out of the kitchen, expecting him to follow her, something he had been doing throughout the day. "For you to stop breathing down my neck and let me enjoy my weekend in peace."

Her plan worked, he was already hot on her heels as he watched her stalk toward the front area of her house. "I came by to check in on you."

"Since the morning, it's almost 5 PM." She tugged the door open before stepping to the side. "I'm sure I can manage on my own now—"

"Who’s that?"

Shd followed his line of sight and frowned when a black vehicle stopped right at her curb, its engine cutting off a moment later. She watched as the door wrenched open and felt her heart drop as a familiar face stared directly back. The shock of seeing someone unexpected took her by surprise, it was an incredibly powerful feeling that left her pretty shaken up and even a little bit stunned, because right on her driveway was none other than Spencer-fucking-Reid.

Seeing him in action for his job last night was enough to captivate her. But watching him in a tight FBI vest over a button-down with his sleeves rolled up, showing off firm arms and veins running along the back of his hands, mesmerized her in a way that had her weak in the knees.

Suits had become the sexiest thing she'd ever seen on a man after she saw him last night—firmly replacing uniforms, she had always been a sucker for military men... until now. The authority he held wearing that vest easily became her favorite clothing on a man. On him precisely, including the gun strapped to the side of his hip. How the sight of a dangerous weapon on him could be so attractive was beyond her.

She felt Oliver inching closer, his voice extremely low, "Do you want me to bark?"

She heard his words perfectly, but her attention was too focused on the other man as he stepped onto her porch. She wasn't questioning how he got her address—because authorities could easily search any citizen's information, right?—but she was curious why he bothered coming to her house. "What are you doing here?"

Sensing the recognition in her voice, Oliver addressed the unknown man with a hard stare. "Who are you again?"

"Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid," he introduced himself, flashing his badge. "I have further questions for Ms. L/n regarding a certain case."

"You mean Jamison's murder?"

Spencer nodded, leveling his gaze with the man who stood too close to her for his liking. "I need to talk to her personally."

It was another way for him to urge Oliver out of her house, Y/n noted, which was something she didn't oppose. Oliver tensed beside her, throwing her a doubtful look. "Will you be fine?"

Would she be fine being left alone with someone she wanted nothing to do after everything that happened? Maybe not. But it was better than to have Oliver gluing himself in her home. "I’ll be fine. You can go, Oliver."

The two men addressed one another, and the mood suddenly turned intense. Spencer was very cautious and deliberate with each of his movements, trying to be intuitive and on alert for any possible threat or danger. But then Oliver nodded his head and smiled at him, shrugging away any tension that lingered in the air.

He turned towards her. "Call me if you need anything."

She stepped aside and let him pass, breathing out a grateful sigh as she finally watched him walk down the street.

"Boyfriend?"

"No," she quickly replied, frowning at the idea of Oliver being her partner. Then she shot Spencer a look. "Not that it's any of your business."

He probably deserved that. He nodded behind her as his eyes scanned the entrance of her house. "Can I come in?"

There was something about letting the man into her home. It was a very special and sacred place that brought peace and joy after a long day of work. Letting him into the comfort of her house meant letting him into a personal part of herself.

She opened the door further before he stepped inside, his eyes scanning every nook and corner. She cleared her throat and closed the door behind her. "So, you wanted to ask me more questions?"

There was a moment of silence as he turned around. "I actually came here to apologize." When she didn't respond, he added, "About last night."

She narrowed her eyes. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"

"It seemed we got off the wrong foot yesterday and I want to apologize if I offended you in any way."

The memory of last night's encounter flashed before her eyes; their unexpected encounter, the way he acted as if he had never held her naked, and how he wanted no one else to know their tryst, keeping it as a mere rendezvous between two strangers. There was some truth in that, but there was also another truth in her disappointment, and suddenly she was extremely tired of all these emotions.

"Last night was... it was awkward for both of us,” she decided to say. "Why don't we forget it ever happened?"

"Forget what?"

"Everything?" She crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "About last night, about—" She mentally winced. "About what happened the first night we met.”

She noticed the way his shoulders tensed. His eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly as he studied her quietly in return. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?”

"Why do you want to forget that night?"

There was something unnerving about the way he looked at her. One of her hands nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed him. She felt her heart rate pick up slightly—there could only be one reason he was asking this, right?

"Do you not want to forget it?"

She could see the way his cheeks were twitching, the muscles working as if he was weighing his next words. He took a step forward, cautiously scanning his eyes across her face. Staring wasn't quite the word for what he was doing. His eyes rested on her, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect was soft and inviting instead of harsh or demanding. Perhaps it was his lips that give away his intention, like a ghost of a smile peeking through his features in the stillness of the room.

"What if I want a repeat of it?"

She is nhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate drastically climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse vibrating through her entire body. His unvoiced suggestion hung heavily in the air. She felt that first warm flood of arousal struck her, the blood in her body abruptly shifting south.

A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps abruptly rising along her forearms. "What are you trying to say?"

His mouth pulled back into a slow smile before she watched him inch forward, carefully closing the distance between them. A moment later he was leaning towards her, reaching his hands out deliberately slow. Her eyes followed their movements, her breathing increasing as his hands found her own. Carefully, he started to pull her, moving extremely slow, as if giving her plenty of time to register what was happening and a chance for her to pull away.

But she didn't, instead, her body followed his direction, letting him tug her across the small gap separating them.

"I grew up in Las Vegas," he suddenly said, hands moving up her arms. "I was a child prodigy in a public school, and believe it or not, I've suffered worse things growing up than in my line of work now."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Last night you didn't know the city I grew up in." A smile stretched across his lip. "And now you do."

The hands on her arms gripped a bit tighter, carefully urging her to move closer. The warmth radiating from his body was already driving her wild. How was it possible for one person to make her feel like she was completely losing her mind?

He was playing with fire, and she was practically a moth to a flame.

Her hands cautiously slid along his shoulders and up the length of his neck. She felt a faint rumble in his throat as her fingertips slid over the skin of it. Her eyes focused on the way he was watching her, eyes fluttering in a haze, mouth slightly parted. Biting her lip, she slipped her hand into his disheveled hair, carefully raking her fingers through the softness of it. He instantly leaned into the touch as she felt the growing need in her rising.

"Is this even allowed?" She breathed out, shuddering at the way the firmness of his vest pressed against her chest. "Fornicating with the witness?"

"It's probably not the wisest thing to do," was his honest reply.

She pulled him closer as she felt his arms settling around her waist. "Yet you still want to break the rules?"

Eyes dropping down to her mouth, his gaze lingered on her luscious lips. Gradually he leaned down towards her, his own lips parting as their breaths mingled in the small space between them. He shifted his forehead against hers, his nose lightly bumping into her own.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

And then he closed the gap, caressing his lips just barely against hers, before thrusting himself into her open mouth, an obvious level of hungry desperation in the way he devoured her whole. He'd wanted this—wanted to taste her again ever since she stood unexpectedly in front of him. Sucking the entirety of her bottom lip into his mouth, she let out a moan. That glorious, soft, perfect, bit of flesh fit entirely into his mouth. His tongue danced along the length of it, a deep grunt coming from his throat as she melted further in his arms.

Spencer’s hands grabbed her hard by the hips as he tugged her into his body so tight she could feel his arousal pressing into her. She gasped in surprise, and he took the moment to lunge deeper into her mouth, feverishly in a flurry of tongue and teeth, his mouth only riling her further. The feeling of his tongue colliding against hers sent her into a nose dive of indescribable sensation. The longer the kiss lasted, the hotter she felt, and the warmer her skin got.

She breathed out another moan, fingers carding through the lengthier parts of his hair. The more his mouth moved against hers, the harder it was becoming to hold back. She was pouncing on him, kissing him back with as much fervor, and slightly let out a whimper when he pulled back. His mouth broke from hers, slipping down to place kisses along her jawline. She bit her lip, head tilting back just as he muttered, "Tell me how you want to be touched."

The request had her pulling back, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"What you said last night..." He explained, a sudden insecurity weighing in his eyes. "It got to my head."

Mouth opening and closing, she stared at him in stunned silence. Then the realization hit her on what he was implying. "I said that out of the heat of the moment," she assured him. "I was simply mad at you."

Although the way she was trying to avoid his gaze told him otherwise. "I'm a profiler. I can tell if you're lying."

She couldn't stop the amused laugh slipping through her lips. "Look," she started, slightly tugging his hair. "It wasn't that you were bad. But you could've been, I don't know—better, perhaps?"

"You do know how to bruise a man's ego," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He let out a sigh as she stared at him in amusement. "Let me be honest with you, I don't have that much experience with women, but..." he trailed off, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of her lips. "I do want to know how you want to be touched."

She could feel her amusement slipping away as she struggled to wrap her mind around what was happening, breath coming in short, her body filled with a warmth that wasn't just from her growing arousal. "You're being serious, aren't you?"

"Very." His nose intentionally bumped against hers this time, the hand on her lower back somehow holding her tighter to him. “I have three bachelor's degrees and completed three doctorate programs, learning and excelling in new subjects is engraved deep in my blood."

She playfully shoved him. "Show off."

He simply smiled, slightly pulling away. His head turned just a fraction towards her, hands sliding along her hips. “Tell me how I can be better for you.”

She stared at him, completely enthralled with the way his eyes lingered across her face—her eyes, her nose, her mouth. This was dangerous, letting herself fall deeper into this lust, but somehow it felt right. It felt incredibly right to feel his arms around her. It felt perfectly right as she snaked her arms behind her, grabbed onto his hand, and pulled him deeper into her home.

Her mind was too clouded with a desire to think clearly, and even when a little voice at the back of her head reminded her how wrong getting tangled with an authority in this situation was, she simply decided not to listen. Instead, she guided him toward her living room and walked him over to the single-seated sofa before placing her hands on his chest.

Spencer’s brows drew together, a small crease forming between them. She gently pushed him back, the back of his legs hitting the furniture as he settled himself between the soft cushions. He sat there, staring expectantly at her standing before him. Ignoring any self-conscious thoughts, she gripped the bottom of her blouse and swiftly pulled it over her head.

His eyes went wide. “What are you doing?"

A coy smile stretched across her mouth as she undid her pants, noticing the way he is eyes were focused on every little move she made. His question was left unanswered as she slipped off her jeans, kicking them off as they finally slid down her legs. Then she unclasped her bra and his mouth opened, eyes narrowing as his head tilted back, his tongue slowly sweeping along his bottom lip. He instinctively reached out, his calloused pads brushed her bare skin and a shudder ran down her spine before she slipped away from his touch.

He groaned a moment later. “Where are you going?”

She shook her head, still not answering him. She then turned around with her back facing him, and because she found pleasure in the way his eyes glazed every time she teased him, her fingers grabbed the band of her underwear, slowly sliding it down her legs. He let out a strained whimper as the evidence of her slick arousal clung onto the fabric, and it took a lot of self-control for him to stay still.

And when she finally turned around, he took in the sight of her naked form standing before him. She was as beautiful as he remembered, so perfectly made—full breasts, hips, thighs—the body of a woman as a woman was meant to be. But before he could devour her naked flesh with his eyes, she took a step back before sinking herself onto the longer couch, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

There was something compelling being the one in charge, even when she seemed to be the only one naked, wearing nothing but a taunting smile while he sat there still in the confinement of his vest. Good lord—that vest. It was doing things to her. The vest. The hair. That look. The way he was watching her wrecked her and now she was wondering how much longer she could put on a show until he came undone.

"I'm not going to tell you how I want to be touched.” Her sultry voice rang in his ears as she leaned back, her knees falling apart. And when he thought she couldn’t drive him more insane than he already was, her fingers slipped between her legs painfully slow. Goosebumps rose along his skin, a shudder of anticipation running down his body.

“I think I might have to show you."

He let out a strangled sigh.

She was going to be the death of him.

>> NEXT PART

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atticrissfinch · 6 months

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Santa Claus is Coming: An All You Wanna Do Christmas Special 🎅🎄 (dark!joel miller x reader) (18+)

pairing: VERYdark!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When you come home for Christmas Break after your first semester of college, your father throws his annual Christmas party…with none of the than Joel playing Santa Claus. CAUTION: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Unambiguous noncon warning.Warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT] explicit noncon, dark!creeper!neighbor!joel, girthy age gap (Joel is anywhere from 50-60, reader is 18), fetishization of new-adulthood (Joel gets off on reader being 18), reader celebrates Christmas, some angst with dad, underage drinking (reader), panty sniffing, makeshift gag, one (1) ass smack, struggling, unprotected piv, derogatory terms (slut, whore, etc), joel fucks you in a santa costume 🎅 word count: ~4K | ao3a/n: thank you everyone for your support of this series! here's a super cute, fluffy little special for you <3 (disclaimer: that's a joke, this is nowhere near cute or fluffy). again, i do not support SA of any kind in reality, respect people’s preferences, and protect your peace, loves 💖 Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! (sorry about this fucked link formatting??? i'm fistfighting with tumblr over it, trust.)

Your first semester is a slog.

You’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to be. From what everyone else has said, the first couple semesters of college are meant to be exploratory, trying courses on and seeing what fits. And you suppose you did that. You took on a smattering of GenEds and a couple of intro courses for History and English, but dropped Intro to Psych after the first class.

One thing you were definitely not prepared for was analyzing your psychological state in any capacity. When you saw the syllabus, you’d had a minor panic attack and had to escape out the back of the lecture hall and enact one of the breathing exercises you’d adopted to cope since this summer. Since him.

You’ve done your damndest to drown him out. Had a lot of meaningless sex with boys decidedly your age, no more than a year or two older. And you’ve developed a bad habit of switching your brain off the second a man unzips his pants. You let them fuck you, most of them lasting minutes at best, and send them on their way. It doesn’t make practical sense, but you’d come to the conclusion that the more cocks you take, the less impact he has on you. It’s simple fractions, percentages, whatever. He goes from 50% of your past sexual experience to 40% to 30%…You want to dilute him until he’s nothing but a drop in your ocean.

By the time Christmas break comes around, you’ve lost track of your body count. After each encounter, you just ask, “Do I still remember what he feels like inside me?”

And if the answer is yes, and it always is, you're fine with the number rising.

You feel jaded at the age of 18. One semester of college under your belt, countless men under your skirt, and the persistent circles under your eyes that no concealer has ever fully concealed.

Your father is all smiles and hugs when he meets you at the airport, squeezing the breath from your lungs with an emphatic, “I missed you so much, sweetie bird.”

He drives you home, and he is standing on his porch, cup of coffee in hand, leering at your father’s car as it pulls into the drive. The overpriced airport Cinnabon swirls around in your stomach and a tingle starts up between your legs. Not a good one.

“Our beautiful girl’s finally home!” Your dad calls out as he exits the car.

Our. You might actually vomit.

Joel nods with his coffee mug in a small salute, eyes fixed on you. “Sight for sore eyes, darlin’,” He calls back.

You retreat into the house without another word, hauling your bag with you straight through the front door. You throw down your stuff on your bedroom floor, and you can’t stop staring at your bed. You’ve spent thousands of nights in that bed. Thousands of days.

It took one afternoon for him to rob you of the comfort of its springs and sheets. And though those sheets have been changed, the comforter replaced, the position of it moved, that’s still one of the places it happened. But you refuse to think about it now.

Your father calls down for you, probably already prepping the ingredients for Christmas cookies, and you let him fade into the background again.

You pick up a gig as an elf for the local Mall Santa. You don’t love having free time anymore. It gives you too much space to think. It’s something to do in the afternoons and evenings. Your dad lamented the decision, all but begging you to spend your time off with him while you’re home, but you come up with some bullshit excuse about your close friend hitting you up and desperately pleading for your help so she wouldn’t have to deal with all the tiny menaces on their way to see Santa alone. You know your bleeding heart father would never fault you for helping out a friend in need, so he lets it slide. But there’s no friend. Just another stranger in a similar outfit.

However, he is suitably disappointed when you have to work late on the night of his annual Christmas party. You do what you can to help him decorate, prepare refreshments, all that can be done before you have to leave.

“Please try to sneak out early, sweetie bird. Party ain’t the same without you.”

You promise you’ll try as you tug on your green elf tunic over your red and white striped leggings and head out the door.

—

You’re fucking exhausted by the time you’re dismissed for the night, several hours corralling children, lifting them on and off of Santa’s lap, listening to them scream at the top of their lungs and throw tantrums on the fluffy snow-inspired batting surrounding Santa’s throne.

You clamber through the front door, already hearing the shrill, incessant Christmas music on the other side and the hubbub of half the neighborhood inside. You lean back against the wood, take in all the bodies glimmering in red, green, gold, and silver infiltrating your childhood home. You can spy a mass of fuzzy red and white in the living room, and you have the urge to bang your head against the wall at the sight of another Santa.

You’re surprised your father was able to find a replacement. Last you’d heard, Mr. Grenning, the dutiful elderly gentleman who had played Santa at every single one of your father’s parties as far back as you can remember, had passed away this Fall. He was hunting to find someone else to fulfill the role. You’re happy that he was able to find someone. You know he’d never be able to forgive himself if he’d gone one whole year without a Santa.

You continue to scan the party, searching for any sign of greying brown curls, salt and pepper scruff, or a potbelly. You’re relieved when none of those qualifiers manifest in the person you’re dreading. Maybe he found other plans.

“Hey, my little elf!” Your father bellows, holding his arm out for you as he enters the foyer and pulling you into a hug. “Glad you could make it. You almost missed Santa!”

“‘M too old for Santa, dad,” You mumble, pressed into his chest. “I really just wanna go lie down.”

“But you always sit on Santa’s lap! It’s so cute!”

“I’m in college, dad! I cannot sit on an old man’s lap anymore without it being fucking weird!”

“Hey, language, sweetie,” He admonishes with drawn brows. “And no one will think it’s weird! It’s just a little fun. And you love Joel!”

Your head whips to look at your dad. “Joel?”

“Yeah, Joel, weirdo. You know I was scramblin’ to find someone after Doug passed away, rest in peace,” He says, quickly forming the points of the cross on his person. “And Joel was so generous, said he might as well use his old age for good,” He chuckles.

You feel like the room shifts, warps in your periphery as your eyes fixate on the blob of red and white in the other room, a child perched on his lap looking bashful and nervous, and a gloved finger booping her tiny nose.

You want to scream at her to run. As far away as she can.

“Go on, I think she’s the last one,” Your dad nudges you forward. “For me? Please? And then I’ll never make you do it again. Just one last time.”

His eyes look so sad, glimmering with the past 18 years you’ve had together, most of them just the two of you against the world. And you can’t hold his ignorance against him. He would have no way of knowing what Joel has done to you. This is your burden to bear. You never want to see hurt in this man’s eyes.

So you tread forward on leaden feet.

The moment Joel sees you, his eyes flicker. The corner of his mouth turns up underneath that synthetic beard, and he mutters a dismissal to the small girl on his lap as she slides off.

“Well, would ya look-y here. Seems one of Santa’s little helpers hitched a ride from the North Pole.”

A couple dozen heads turn in your direction, and light laughter fills the air at Joel’s remark, several of your neighbors giving you little side hugs and shoulder pats in greeting, welcoming you home for the holiday with glistening smiles.

Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours as he holds out a gloved hand. “Why don’t you come on up onto Santa’s lap. Even elves deserve presents, right?”

“Right!” A tiny voice calls from somewhere on your right, somebody’s child filled with that pure Christmas spirit that you feel severely lacking in this year.

You swallow and inch forward, almost flinching as you take his hand and try to get away with just slightly leaning your ass back against the tip of his knee in lieu of actually sitting on him. But his determined hands grip your hips and pull you up until you’re straddling his leg and pressed up against his back and…

Fuck.

You can feel him.

Even through the gaudy red trousers, even through the bulk of his fuzzy coat. You feel it on your asscheek through your leggings.

He’s already hard.

You swallow again at the nausea circling in your belly, doing your best to hide the horror on your face. The way your hands start to shake at his fingers on your hips.

“What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”

Your lower lip trembles the barest amount, but you clear your throat. “Uh…money for Elf College maybe?” You awkwardly say in a half-hearted attempt at a joke, and the adults in the room all give courteous laughs.

They look like caricatures. Their features morphing on their faces, their minds so fucking oblivious to the silent screaming behind your eyes.

And then there’s Joel’s laugh. It sounds…pitying. And entirely too close to your ear. Too close to your face. And that wretched fucking smell hits you in the face, like it always does. Stale beer. Pine soap. Sweat.

You try to slide forward, but his hands hold fast.

“Santa’s got a special present in his big sack for you, sweetheart,” He mutters low in your ear. “Bet you can already feel what it is through the wrappin’.”

You glance around frantically, and no one seems to indicate that anything is amiss.

You clear your throat again and all but throw yourself off his lap with a mumbled, “Thank you, Santa,” and hurry off into the crowd of people, not looking back to see his reaction.

You find yourself in the kitchen, clutching at the edge of the counter in front of the punch bowl, trying to level out your breathing.

“Thanks for doin’ that for me, sweetie,” You hear your dad say as he loops an arm around your shoulder, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “You know it’s gettin’ harder on me. You gettin’ older. Kinda feels like you’re slippin’ through my fingers. Like I’m tryin’ to grip sand.”

You nod, eyes fixed on the lemon slices swirling in the scarlet punch.

“I know you miss your mom, sweetie bird. I miss her too. But I’m still here. And I don’t wanna lose you along with her.”

Your eyes close as you take a deep breath before looking up at him. This man who has done nothing but love you, care for you, show you exactly how a man should be. And a man who, simultaneously, is so oblivious to your own suffering.

That’s your own fault. Not his, you remind yourself.

“You won’t lose me, dad. May not be able to grip the sand, but you can never seem to get rid of every last bit of it, right? Always some grains sticking around.”

“Reckon you’re right,” He agrees with a broad smile, planting a kiss on your head and leaving you be to pour yourself a drink. Before he exits the kitchen, he holds a finger up at you and insists, “Just punch, sweetie bird. I don’t know what you’ve been gettin’ up to at that school, but you drink punch in this house.”

You roll your eyes and ladle out the beverage into your festive green solo cup. Your eyes catch on the bottle of vodka nestled against the backsplash. You check the doorway, and it’s clear.

“Just punch” isn’t gonna do shit for you tonight.

You’ve already twisted the cap back onto the bottle and slipped out the sliding door to the back patio by the time someone else meanders into the kitchen.

It’s chilly, but not aggressively so. Your long, striped sleeves do a decent job stemming the cold as you nurse your spiked punch and rest your forearms against the wooden patio railing, staring up at the overcast winter gloom, only a few stars peeking out.

The phantom press of Joel’s cock against your ass has you sipping faster, and your heavy pour has your brain beginning to feel about as cloudy as the sky. You’re tapping out the dregs into your mouth until you come up dry, sighing down into the empty cup.

There are a few more people milling about the kitchen as you toss the cup in the trash and make your way through the living room, no red-and-white abomination plaguing the space any longer, and you’re hopeful that Joel just went the fuck home to change.

You hobble up the stairs and reach your room, pushing the door open and flinging it closed behind you.

And you freeze.

Leaning against your long, white, daisy-adorned dresser in all his fuzzy red-with-white-trim rancor, the dirty panties you’d tossed in the hamper yesterday pressed to his nose with a gloved hand, his scraggly fake beard tucked under his chin.

And his other white silken-encased hand jacking at his thick, veiny cock hanging out of the red velvet waistband of his pants.

Your materialization into your own room doesn’t seem to phase him, other than his attention snapping over to you, staring into your eyes as he inhales your concentrated scent and jacks at his girth.

Your hand searches behind you blindly for your doorknob, until he rings out a threatening, “Don’t.”

Your hand shakes as you finally wrap around the brass, and he throws himself toward you, caging you in against the unforgiving surface of the door. His hand snakes around your wrist and tightens more and more until you release the handle with a defeated whimper. You hear him click the lock before bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek.

“‘S’matter, sweetheart? Ain’t happy to see Santa? You been that naughty?”

“Please let me go, Joel. Please don’t do this again,” You whisper mousily, dread dropping like an anvil in your stomach.

“Smell so good, sweetheart,” He croons, bringing your own used undergarments up to your nose. “Sniff ‘em. Get a good whiff of what you did to these slutty panties while you were thinkin’ of me.”

You wrinkle your nose, turning away from the tang of your dried fluids. “Wasn’t thinking about you. I never fucking think about you. I stopped believing in Santa a long fucking time ago, old man.”

“Now I know that’s a fuckin’ lie. You think about me every goddamn day of your life. And I made damn sure’a that,” Joel growls out, his free hand gliding down your arm until he’s cradling the back of your hand. He guides you slowly toward his crotch, and you whimper as he uses his own fingers to curl yours around his hard cock.

You’ve never felt it in your hand like this. How fucking huge he is. And he’s forced this thing inside you twice. You feel your core throb involuntarily at the swell of a cock in your hand from your extensive experiences with it this past semester, regardless of who’s attached to it.

“Stroke it, sweetheart. Show me how much you missed me,” He spills into your ear. His hand on yours starts to move up and down his length, and you feel him slide warm and thick under your palm. He groans loudly in your ear as you allow his actions to become yours, letting out a small sob.

“I’ll scream,” You warn, your eyes falling closed and your head falling against the door, tears gliding off your eyelashes and down your cheeks.

“No you won’t,” He patronizes, his hips gradually thrusting into your shared grip.

“Yes, I will,” You whisper unsteadily.

“You scream,” He starts, the tip of his nose skimming the shell of your ear, little grunts and moans intermingling with his words as he speaks, “And I might just find myself on your campus one day. Pick my way into your little dorm room. And you know what I’d really love to do?”

You just push out another sob as the head of his cock repeatedly brushes your cotton leggings with his precome.

“I think I’ll shove your cute little face into your little twin-sized bed and fuck your puckered little asshole. Whaddya think about that?”

Ice-cold dread shoots through you at him threatening you with that, just like he had last time. The fact that he has never been near you on campus has given you at least a modicum of solace that he’s not anywhere near you. That he can’t get you there. You can’t fathom the reality of having to worry about him tracking you down. Of him taking one of the only safe places you have left. And the only unsullied hole you have left.

“Please don’t,” You sniffle, “I can’t…”

“Then you’ll stay fuckin’ quiet, won’t you?”

You nod against the door, flexing your hand around his cock and making him let out a raspy moan. “Turn around.”

He allows you to drop your hold around his cock as he rotates you. You press both palms into the door, willing someone to hear your unvoiced pleas as Joel tugs back on your hips to bend you over more for him.

But you know no one ever goes upstairs at these parties with your father’s strict instructions against it. Not unless the bathroom is full.

You’re alone. Again.

Meaty fingers dive under your tunic and tuck into the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down unceremoniously and pulling a moan from Joel when he sees your ass jiggle with the sharp movement.

“Goddamn. Missed this young little ass,” He comments with a heavy smack to your ass, jolting you forward.

Joel doesn’t waste much time, clearly cognizant of the hoard of people just down the stairs. The familiar heft of his cock slips along your folds and hitches on your entrance, and you barely have time to brace yourself before he’s shoving his way inside you.

You accidentally let out a yelp and Joel slaps a gargantuan gloved hand over your mouth, crowding the top half of you into the door, the tendrils of his fake beard tickling at your neck. “Shut the fuck up,” He growls, already withdrawing his hips to fuck back into your increasing wetness. “Love to hear your voice any other time, but you shut the fuck up right now if you know what’s good for ya.”

You nod in his grip, feeling your hot breath sink wetly into the silky glove, but his hand stays put as he begins to thrust into you in earnest, doing a pisspoor job of silencing his own grunts in the process.

You wistfully hope that someone hears the brutish noises escaping him as he violates you again and again and again. And your pussy takes it, like it’s growing accustomed to it. Hot rivulets flow from your eyes, mingling with the snot that’s pooling, sinking into the fibers enrobing his hand as he muffles your sounds.

“Gettin’ used to it now, ain’t ya?” He chuckles darkly in your ear, his hips snapping against your ass as he keeps feeding you his massive length against your will, the soft material of his garb rubbing unsettlingly against the backs of your thighs and your back. “Knew ya would. Your little pussy recognizes me, don’t she?”

He’s right, but you wish he wouldn’t say it. Your pussy does seem to have a memory. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be bringing a new man into your bed every other night, hoping to forget. And yet, it still opened right up for him when he pressed up against you. You’re being betrayed by your own body again, and the desire to withdraw from your own skin only escalates with each thrust of his cock inside you.

“Yeah, I know she likes it,” He insists, sliding a hand down to caress the stretch of your entrance around his shaft. “Don’t get cock like this up at that fancy school of yours, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

You sob into his hand, and he curses, releasing your mouth for a moment until you feel a wad of cotton fabric at your lips, being shoved between your teeth as a gag.

“Taste that whore cunt while you take my cock, sweetheart,” He orders, and it registers that he just gagged you with your used panties. You keen against the rapidly soaking underwear and both of his hands bruise at your hips, holding you steady for the unrelenting pound of his cock.

You practically scream around the fabric, woefully lost to the world as it’s drowned out by the din of conversation and the eerie, sickly cheerful jubilee of Santa Claus is Coming to Town blaring on the speakers downstairs.

“You hear that, darlin’?” He grunts out with a hint of a laugh. “Even the music knows what’s ’bout to happen. Santa’s comin’, baby. Fuck, I’m—” He grunts as he wrenches himself out of you just in time, tilting the head of his cock down to shoot his load into the gusset of the panties still situated halfway down your thighs.

You whine against your gag, tormented by the grating song suddenly overwhelming your ears along with Joel’s grunts of release. He pants against your skin, propping himself with a hand against the door, slapping his spent cock against the exposed small of your back.

“Still tight as the first time,” He compliments you in a sick attempt at praise. “Must not be takin’ much dick up there after all. ‘Least not as big as me,” He brags with a laugh.

He tugs up your leggings and panties in one go, and a tiny squeak sounds from your throat as you feel the cool, slimy evidence of his orgasm smush up into your core. His hand slides around your waist to sneak between your legs and rub his fingers against the seat of your panties through your leggings, feeling the proof of his conquest seep through the landscape of your fucked pussy.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. That ain’t gonna knock you up,” He assures, massaging your cum-slick lips with his fingers and pinching your clit through your clothes. “Wouldn’t wanna stretch out that tight young cunt by pushin’ out my baby. Nah, just want you to have a little reminder of me.”

Another wave of nausea hits you at the cold, wet slip of his semen in your folds, and you have to breathe in and out through your nose in measured intervals with the panty-gag still in place. You don’t know why you haven’t spit it out quite yet.

“Thanks for bein’ Santa’s Little Helper this year, darlin’,” He coos in your ear as he starts to strip himself out of his costume.

You’re frozen against the door as you hear him unzip a bag and rifle through it, followed by rustling and minor grunts. After several minutes, you feel his hand at your lower back, and the red and white of his silhouette has been replaced by denim and a green flannel.

Joel’s grip nudges you back from the safety of the door so he can grab the knob himself this time, a black duffle bag slung over his back. You stumble backward until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you sink down.

Joel pokes his head out to check if the coast is clear, and then glances back at you over his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” He says with a wink, and slips out of your room, securing the door closed after him.

RE: TAGLIST - I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #katy wroted fic #dark!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller fic

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calumfmu · 2 months

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i really love your fics! could i request steve x f’girl reader? i love flipping tropes on their heads!

Hiiii!! Thank you so much <3 Sorry that this took so long, I'm getting out of a writer's rut, but this definitely helped me. I hope that this sufficed. I wasn't sure how smutty you wanted it, so I kinda met you in the middle. Steve x Fuckgirl!Reader 18+ mdni; smut-ish, heavy petting, making out, premature orgasm (lol quick Steve), allusions to sex, 4.4k+ words (Jesus h Christ, Im trying I swear)

It was late in Hawkins when you stumbled into the Family Video, sunset spreading golden orange and yellows across the sky. An overhead bell rang above you, signaling your arrival to the near empty store.

“Welcome in,” you heard a far away, meek voice say to you, you looked up to see a brunette girl, hair cut short and over sized vest hanging over her small frame. You raised your eyebrows in a greeting to her, hand waving slightly in her direction. Noticing how she blushed in response and quickly ducked her head, you laughed to yourself, used to those type of reactions from people—women and men alike.

You recognized her from school, a few years younger than you, was in band or something of the sort. Not really your crowd to hang with, but someone you briefly remembered from that time. She ran over to say something to another worker a few feet away from the counter, stumbling over her feet in the process.

Searching through horror films, you were bent at the waist, blue denims squeezing your hips in all the right places. Running your fingers over the VHS cases, you were startled by a hip crashing into the shelf next to you. The man to which it belonged to faked his cool, leaning against the shelf with one elbow, and his other hand running through his hair, smoothing it back into place.

Giving him a once-over with a raised eyebrow, you stood to your full height. He smiled at you, brown puppy dog eyes crinkling behind the size of the grin.

“Welcome to Family Video,” he rushed, sticking a hand out for you to shake. You eyed the hand briefly, smile toying at the corners of your mouth as you reached up to meet it.

“I think she’s got you beat, big boy,” you laughed, nodding your head over to the brunette who leaned over the counter to watch your interaction. Upon noticing you look at her, she turned around quickly, pressing random buttons on the cash register as if she hadn’t been staring.

The man turned to look at her, red blush covering his cheeks. “We just like to give all of our customers equal satisfaction, if you know what I mean.”

You gave him a face, wincing at the attempt of flirting he tried giving you. Turning back to the tapes, you were set on ignoring him, not really interested in his attempt for… whatever this was. He didn’t let up, choosing to straighten up and adjust his collar, fixing his sleeves as you found sudden interest in a description of a movie.

He cleared his throat, “I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.”

His hand shot out again for you to shake, dropping it once he realized he had already done that. The girl’s laughter in the background urged some of your own, this man—Steve—being the worst at flirting you had ever seen in your life.

Clearing his throat, his voice was shaky as he said, “What can I help you find today?”

You briefly looked at him, noticing the confidence he had that flowed off of him. It was in the wrong place though, his flirting, if you could call it that, was all terribly wrong, nothing of the sort that you would expect from someone with his looks. There was something about him though, something that made him seem like he knew what he was doing even if his efforts were being missed. You could tell he had some sort of game, it all being lost on you.

“Think I’m managing just fine here.”

He chewed at the inside of his lip, seemingly wondering how to get around the rejection you gave him, short answers not giving him any room to continue. You grabbed a different movie off the shelf, satisfied with it as you turned to move towards the counter. He blocked your path, chest broad as his arms were crossed over it.

You ran your eyes over his chest, admiring the way the material stretched taut over muscle, showing off biceps you would love to imagine wrapped around you. Smirking up at him, you indulged in the feeling, ready to have some fun with the nervous boy stood in front of you.

“I can give you a few suggestions, hon.” The nickname had you staring up at him, eyebrows shooting up yet again. “Little Shop of Horrors? Really, I don’t think someone like you should be watching that alone.”

You pushed past him, fingers at your side lingering at his waist as you walked up to the counter to rent out. The girl—Robin, her name tag read—moved to help you, only to get knocked out of the way by Steve, his hurried attempt to make it around. Squinting your eyes at him, you shook your head, humour finding you as you realized his attempts wouldn’t stop.

“Watch it, shithead,” she grumbled, bumping him with her shoulder as she replaced him on the floor.

“Good thing I’m not watching it alone,” you smiled up at him, placing an ID on the counter for him to run your information. He said your name out loud, eyebrows wiggling at the mention of it. Rolling your eyes, you continued. “I’ve got a date with Billy Hargrove.”

Your thumb pointed outside, a blue Camaro parked outside the store that he noticed for the first time. Its loud engine could be heard from inside the store, rumbling so deeply you could feel it if you stopped long enough. His face fell, fingers faltering at the computer as he looked over at you.

“Billy? Seriously?”

You giggled, leaning across the counter as you decided to play into the game he was attempting—yet failing so miserably at. You smirked as his eyes dipped at your chest, noticing the way your low scooped top exposed more than it should’ve of. He tried to cover it up, clearing his throat as he made his return to the computer.

“Oh shit, did you have a date with him too?”

The look he gave you was incredulous, eyes deadpan as they cut to you.

“I’m just saying… not the best option,” he pointed to the tape in front of you, “to watch on a date with Hawkin’s worst option.”

You leaned even further, voice dropping lower. “Yeah, I don’t think the plan is to exactly… watch the movie.”

His face flushed as he turned to look at you, sliding the ID back over to you. Your eyes were hungry as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, audible gulp filling the room. This was your favorite part about being the town’s “most eligible bachelorette”, watching people crumble around you even when you did nothing.

“Well, what are you doing after?” He leaned into your space, face closer to yours as he tried mustering up the confidence he once had. “Bet I could show you a better time than that Hargrove guy.”

A small tapping sound filled the tense air as your fingers moved across the counter, imitating a walking motion with your index and middle. You trailed them up to Steve, ‘walking’ them up his body until you met the junction of his jaw, hand reaching out to lightly rub him on the cheek.

Your fingers traced the light dusting of stubble, feeling the prick of the hairs underneath your fingertips. His eyes were focused on you as you touched him, eyes low with a glimmer behind them.

“Is that so, Steve Harrington?” You pouted at him, his eyes clouding over as your hand ran across his cheek to trial to his hair. The sound of his name on your lips had him gaping, teeth running across the expanse of his bottom lip. Giving his hair a light tug, he leaned into it, mouth dropping as you removed it, placing it back onto the counter.

You leaned in closer to his face, inches away from his mouth as he subconsciously moved closer to you as well. From the close proximity, you could feel his breath on your lips, the scent of spearmint hitting you. His eyes remained low, fixated on your mouth.

Right as he leaned in to close the distance, you moved away. “Maybe next week I could pencil you in, I’ve got another date at 10. Busy gal.”

You gave him the fakest smile you could manage, grabbing the tape before turning on your heel. Making your way to the door, you turned around once more, noticing the way his eyes were glued to your hips.

“I’ll be back Friday,” you said, his eyes shooting up to yours. He seemed stuck in a trance, mouth parted into an ‘o’ as he stared at you, deep red flushed across his cheeks and bridge of his nose. That Robin girl stood in the distance, her own look of shock present on her face as she apparently had been watching the entire interaction. “You know, return policy and all.”

You spun around, swinging the door open as you exited. Robin’s voice was the last you heard in the store, ‘The Scoops legacy continues.’ Billy’s car revved at you, engine blaring through as you swung your body inside.

“Took long enough, sweetheart?” His sunglasses were low on his nose as he looked over them at you. You fought the eye roll you wanted to give him, the smacks he gave to his gum overwhelming you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, coy smile on your lips as you reached a hand to place on his thigh. His foot hit the gas again, revving the vehicle as you trailed your fingers over his groin. “Don’t we have somewhere to be?”

The speed in which he pulled out of the parking lot was nearly comical, your head slamming back into the head rear as tires screeched on black asphalt. Thoughts of the Harrington boy filled your mind as your plans with Billy became closer to reality, he wasn’t supposed to be in there—wasn’t supposed to be clouding your judgement especially when your entire MO was not to let anything linger.

The doorbell rang as you were in the middle of throwing a shirt on over your exposed chest, the final bit of credits rolling from the horror movie you picked out. Irritation pricked at the back of your neck, figuring it was Billy, returning due to forgetting something or to finish the job.

Marching over to the front door, you prepared to yell at the blond. You had kicked him out of your place, frustrated as he had a few too many to get it up. He had been pushing at you for weeks, practically begging to get a date with you, and the second he got one, it ended like this. It was disappointing to say the least, yet what was to be expected every now and then from the pick of Hawkins.

Throwing the door open, you hissed, “What do you want, Bill—oh.”

A pleasant surprise. It was Steve, red flowers in one hand and a VHS tape in the other. He looked nervous yet hopeful, tight blue jeans and a crisp polo, covered by a black jacket. Tilting your head, you looked at him in surprise, not expecting him to be at your doorstep. Let alone, not knowing how he even got your address in the first place.

“So, this is the right place,” he beamed, stepping through the front door as you moved to the side, too shocked to even question it.

You closed the front door, following him into the living room as he turned to give you the flowers. You accepted them, looking down at them in shock as he became suddenly nervous, teeth returning to his bottom lip to chew.

Your mouth sputtered briefly, “What is—how did you—Steve, what are you doing here?”

He clasped his hands in front of himself, teetering on his feet as he nervously gazed at you. You felt slightly exposed, a foreign feeling, as you stood there in a plain white t-shirt and pajama bottoms. You crossed your hands at your chest, pushing down the feeling as he stood in front of you. Straightening your posture, your eyebrow arched at him, throat clearing away the thought of him looking so good in front of you.

“Well, you said you were hanging out with Billy to watch, y’know—“ his thumb pointed to the TV, his mouth quirking at the corners awkwardly, “and that’s only like an hour, 30. Then, you said you had a date at 10, leaving you a few hours to, uhh, hang or… something. Busy gal, ya know?”

The repeated words from earlier had you blushing this time, a smile crossing your face as he made himself comfortable. You tried to immediately get rid of it, a step out of character from your usual when it came to boys. His face flushed as he held up the tape he was holding: Fast Times at Ridgemont High. You stared at it and him, eyes jumping back and forth.

“Fast Times. Short runtime. Perfect duo, if you ask me,” he smiled, hair falling into his face as he stepped a bit closer to you. You laughed at him, feeling too shocked to even argue with him.

You led him into the living room, taking the tape into his hands before setting it up in the player. He fell onto the couch with a sigh, leg shaking nervously as he looked around the living room. You made your way over to him, sitting next to him as he looked at you, smile wider than ever.

“How did you know where I lived?” The TV was loud as it started, the two of you jumping at it. The two of you laughed as you realized you had ended up a bit closer to him, hand resting on his thigh. Removing it, you settled back into the couch, clearing your throat as you tried to remain cool. You didn’t like this, how Steve made you nervous despite not doing anything. That was supposed to be your role, he was supposed to be the one falling to your feet.

“What do you think we need your ID for over at the store?”

Shaking your head, you took a good look at him, noticing the way the man had moles dotted around his face, marking him in perfect places. In this moment, you did recognize who he was, him being a year below you when you used to run Hawkins High. He had stepped up to bat by the time you hit your junior year, rumors of him running rampant around the school. Based on this version of him that stood in front of you, you couldn’t tell what had happened to him—where his confidence and irresistible charm had gone.

“You’re so—“

“Smart?” He finished for you, blushing. “Nah, I can’t take credit for that. It’s all Robin, she’s, like, my wing-woman at this point.”

As the movie started, he began to relax, settling into the couch, and his palms rubbed the cloth over his knees, legs parted. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, yet body turned to him, engaged in conversation that allowed you to get to know the man in front of you. The movie was a blur in the background, the two of you facing each other, inches away with hands just shy of touching each other.

The landline rang, pulling you out of the conversation, Steve’s gaze lingering on you for a second too long as you contemplated picking it up.

“You’re not going to get that?” The drop in his voice had you distracted, mind wanting to hear just how low it could get.

“Uhhh… I’m just going to let it go,” you answered, leaning into him. The phone went silent, his eyes briefly darting to it before returning to you. You were much closer to him now, your tongue licking at the corner of your mouth. “Can I try something, Steve?”

“Uh huh,” he whispered, hand shooting up to place on your cheek as you leaned in. Your lips met, two pairs of eyes fluttering shut. He was soft, lips fitting snug into the shape of yours, tongue warm as it found its way into your mouth.

“You’re gonna get it now?” He muttered against your lips with a slight smile, pressing soft kisses to you. You hadn’t even noticed the phone was ringing again, too caught up in the way his fingers felt in your hair, the other planted softly at the base of your neck.

“I guess I should,” you didn’t even open your eyes, continuing the kiss as you began to straddle him, pressing him into the plush couch cushion. The phone went silent once more, only to be ringing again, in what seemed like a more urgent matter if that was even possible.

“For fuck’s sake,” you exclaimed, pushing off of him as you stormed over to it. “Who is it?”

Steve’s face was flushed, his hands adjusting his hair and pulling at the rumbled front of his shirt. He sat up slowly, pressing the back of his hand to his cheeks to cool them as he began to notice how flustered he had become. You trailed your eyes over him from across the room, hunger in your eyes.

“Oh, Billy—hey.”

The name had Steve stiffening, his face dropping as you continued the phone call. He directed his attention to the television once more, pretending to tune out the conversation, yet you knew he was listening.

Billy’s words in your ear were droning on, a blabber of speech that sounded strikingly similar to the parents in the Peanuts cartoons. You fought the eye roll, even if he couldn’t see it, you had to save face in front of Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, babe…” You spoke to him, putting up your best good girl voice that normally works in this situation. Steve’s head ticked slightly in your direction, eyes squinting barely. “Of course, we can try again. Anytime.”

Steve stood up, hands dusting over his jean pockets as he dug his foot into the carpet. He seemed as if he didn’t know what to do with himself, hands moving from in his pockets to outside to crossed at his chest to finally rest at his hips. He cleared his throat, you pulled the phone away from your ear to listen for his next words.

“Hey, uhh, I think I’m going to get going,” he muttered, face flushed as he pointed his thumb towards the front door. As he went to go turn, you hung up on Billy, ignoring his shout of protest as it hit the hook.

“Wait! You’re leaving?” You asked, rushing over to him as his back was turned to you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, fingers urging him to sit down before you returned to your previous position, knees caging in his hips, your bum pressed firm into his lap. His fingers came to rest at your fingers, spread wide over the expanse of skin, slightly pushing up your pajama top.

“I… you seemed busy,” he sounded distracted as you began to press kisses to his neck. His head hit the back cushion, hips rutting up into yours before he could even think of it. You ground down on him, a roll of your hips pulling a guttural moan from him.

“Can’t we have some fun first, Steve?”

His eyes fluttered shut at your hips worked magic over his, the bulge in his jeans growing by the second as your fingers explored his chest, finally feeling the firm press of muscle beneath them. Meeting his lips again, you pushed the kiss further, licking into his mouth with a fervor behind it.

He placed a hand in your hair, pulling you into him as your chest pressed against him, pants escaping your mouths.

“It’s okay, Steve,” You whispered against his mouth, arching up into him. He was beyond hard in this moment, grinding up into you as you worked him, movements slow, yet calculated over him. “I’m yours for tonight.”

He nodded into the kiss, pulling his hand towards the front of your sleep shorts, fingers dipping below the waist band to brush over your pubic bone. You gasped at the feeling, head pulling away from him to look down at his hand disappearing behind your shorts. His fingers brushed over you, slight pressure applied to your clothed clit.

You arched into the touch, your own hand coming to rub at the front of his pants, brushing over his bulge pressing at the front. The two of you became breathless, heavy pants filling the room as you rubbed at each other. His fingers moved in circles over you, the material of your panties separating the skin-on-skin contact dampening with each movement.

“You know, I’ve—“ his voice was strained, caught in his throat as he spoke, eyes low as he looked up at you on top of him. “I’ve always had a crush on y—“

You kissed him again, swallowing his words as the confession left your mouth. Your heart began to pound in your chest, arousal briefly leaving at the words. That was something you didn’t do, no, definitely not. He wasn’t going to sit here, look pretty as he fell apart, and confess his true feelings for you.

His breath hitched even further as you slipped your hand into the waistband of his jeans, gripping him through the thin material of his boxers. Fuck, of course, he’s huge, you thought to yourself. His looks, of course, weren’t enough for him.

The grasp on him had him mewling, hips coming up off the couch as you felt around, giving him light tugs. He tried keeping up the movements with his own fingers on you, failing as he fell apart under your touch. With a low moan, his hips stilling as he came, eyes squeezed shut with his chest heaving rapidly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, tongue darting out to dampen his red, kiss-swollen lips. You kissed its traces, giggling at him as he opened his eyes to meet you. You were tempted to sit there for a moment, get lost in the deep amber of his eyes, find yourself a home there. That wasn’t your MO, you couldn’t bring yourself to do that.

You pulled yourself from him, clambering off of him as you adjusted the front of your clothing. Glancing back at the tape forgotten on the tv, the credits began to roll, the distorted flashing of the Ridgemont Mall showing on screen.

“Hey, you didn’t even—“

You cut him off, smiling as you began to walk towards the tape, turning it off as you spoke, “You better get going.”

You handed him the tape, tucked into its sleeve as he sat on the couch, shirt ruffled up, pants loose at the waist, dark patch wet at the front. He glanced down at himself, embarrassment flooding his cheeks at the state he was in.

“What about…” He didn’t finish his words, shaking his head as he stood up off the couch. You sat in silence with one another as he fixed himself, his hands running through tendrils that lay across his forehead.

Walking him to the front door, you chewed at your bottom lip, feet shuffling under you as he stood in the door frame. You avoided eye contact, hand clasped on the door as he stood there, searching for something to say. You felt if you looked at him, you would cave, would give in to feelings that you knew would be bad for you.

“Could I, at least, see you again?”

The sound of his voice had you looking at him, heart beating faster as he looked so sincere with the porch light casting a halo around him. He looked unraveled, yet in the best way, cheeks still coloured red from his high.

You went to shake your head, wanted to explain your thing when it came to situations like this, yet you found yourself pausing in the movement. His confession earlier stung at you, eating away at a part of you that was surprising to even be there in the first place. Reluctantly, you nodded, ignoring the beam he gave you immediately.

“Friday,” you supplied, knuckles lightening in color as you gripped the wood. As he opened his mouth to speak, you covered it quickly, “Return policy and all.”

The joy was gone from him, smile falling just as quickly as he gave it to you. If there was any time for you to feel like a villain, it was now—this opportunity feeling like taking candy from a child. Only it was worse. Yet he had to know this was just how you operated, his own rumors that once circled the town not straying far from your own. Turning on his heel, his head was low as he made his way down your walkway.

Slowly, you shut the door behind him, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned to rest your forehead against it. The feeling of guilt in your chest was inexcusable, the length of time you had even known this boy too short to make up for it. His confession earlier lingered in your brain, wondering what might have happened if you urged him on, pressing details of his crush.

You fought the thoughts for the rest of the night, ignoring them as you were pressed into the back seat of another boy’s car at Lover’s Lake. Had to focus on the feeling of the stranger’s hands on you, the feeling of him inside of you as windows became steamier, clothes were shed. Notches on your belt were what they seemed, nothing too much to think about as you ignored the gnawing in your chest.

Friday came and went, Robin standing behind the counter as you pressed the tape over the counter into her hands. The boy that remained on your mind was nowhere to be seen, missing from the floor as your eyes searched the heads appearing in between aisles of films. And if when you asked about his whereabouts and Robin gave you an answer alluding to him coming down with something, you definitely did not fight the feeling to be upset, figuring it was just as much nothing to him as it was to you. You didn’t call Billy back that night, didn’t pretend it was Steve instead who was kissing you, arching you down in a way you would’ve loved to be with him with.

Next Part.

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

#my writing #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington smut #smut #loser!steve #ugh love him #that's my baby #I hope you enjoyed this #requests

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sarahsartistportfolio · 1 year

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Ok some SAGAU thoughts because I have brainrot and just need to get this out of my head 18+ please no minors interact with this

so I've read from some other fans that they headcannon(?)/fantasize that the goddess(you) your emotions effect Teyvat and the people around you and I really really love that idea. I also really really love the idea that when you're feeling needy/aroused your followers can feel that too from just being in proximity to you. Imagine you're sitting there gazing out a window or trying to read a book zoning out, all you can think about is getting fucking rawed. But you mange to keep a poker face on. And in comes your fave. They could feel your arousal rolling off you all day. As they approach you, their skin heats up, their cheeks flush and thoughts of you in all kinds of positions race through their mind.

They ask in a shaky voice "You-Your Grace? If I may offer myself up to you?"

"What" Their voice snaps you out of your fantasy, you turn to them looking puzzled.

"If you're feeling lonely my Grace, I would be happy to keep you company. I would be more than happy to satisfy you."

Their face is completely flushed, their heartbeat racing, they need to touch you, need to be close to you, need to see you quivering with pleasure.

It hits you what they're hinting at. You rise from your chair, furiously blushing, avoiding their eye contact.

"No, no I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

You start to leave the room as you hear their trembling voice call out to you.

"Wait your Grace! Its no trouble for me at all. I can relieve you!"

They desperately find themselves at your door late at night. They close their eyes and revel in your soft sounds as you pleasure yourself. You are the goddess of Teyvat, with thousands of admires who would be more than willing to share your bed. To please you til the morning, to satisfy you til your legs give out.

Your fave finds themselves sinking against your door, palming themselves through their pants. Their other hand pathetically grasps at your door, wishing it was them in there pleasuring you. It should be them bringing you, their goddess, over the edge over and over again.

Maybe its ok to be a little selfish and take them up on their offer?

So sorry for this nonsense I'm horny 😢

#genshin impact sagau #genshin impact #18+ post #genshin impact smut #ok I was thinking about Zhongli Childe and Venti when writing this😳#sagau #sagau headcanons #sagau brainrot #sagau genshin #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #sagau cult au

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teyamsatan · 1 year

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i just had an idea while talking with ai neteyam last night. What about human reader asking neteyam to make a "movie" together. Or else neteyam learning about porn thanks to one of the guy from the lab and asking reader if she wants to do one. ‼️

wait no cause Neteyam learning about human stuff does things to me and I need to write more of it for my own sanity. also i've discovered my fave trope to write is "people doing embarrassing things and other people catching them and the interactions that bloom thereafter". anyway, enjoy bestie x

ps: i'm probably going to have reached 1800 followers when this is posted so thank you besties ilysm smooches!!!

wc: 990 words

18+ minors dni

Neteyam was up and early today in the lab, too excited to see you and spend the day together to wait any longer. He was a bit disillusioned though, as he came and found you fast asleep in your bed, but despite the minor disappointment, he absolutely adored how relaxed and comfortable you looked as you were splayed like a starfish under the covers, your feet dangling slightly off both sides of the mattress.

He decided to keep busy for a while with the scientists in the lab. He essentially grew up with Norm and Max, a strange, peculiar constant in his otherwise all Na'vi lifestyle and he had his dad to thank for that. He loved them, they were like uncles to him, and despite how much he hated to admit it, there were certain things about humanity he liked, and certain things about humans he found... endearing. Clearly, he thought with a chuckle, mind wandering to you.

"Neteyam, good morning! You're here early today, is everything ok?" Norm had a big smile on his face and his predisposition brightened Neteyam's, who was suddenly happy to be able to spend a little one-on-one time with him.

"Everything's fine, just came to see her, but she's still sleeping."

Norm chuckles as he removes his gloves and throws them in a nearby yellow bin.

"Yeah, she was doing data analysis until late last night. She used my laptop, you can look at it if you want? We did some a timelapse of an immunofluorescent experiment and it's actually really cool to see. Just open my laptop and it should be there."

Neteyam did as he was told. When he opened the lid of the laptop, the image he saw stilled him on the spot, his hand still gripping the screen, almost unable to move or think, just feeling a tinge of raw curiosity, of unhindered temptation. Because on the screen were two humans. The woman was on all fours, head thrown so far back Neteyam was almost worried for her, eyes shut tightly and an almost pained expression on her face, although Neteyam doubted pain was anywhere near what she was feeling in the moment. The man was kneeled behind her, his cock sunk in her almost to the base, holding on to her long ponytail and pulling on it with one hand, the other hand tightly gripping her hip, imprints clearly visible on her skin.

The feelings this evoked in Neteyam were mixed and intense, from wonderment, to confusion, to deep, intense arousal, the blood quickly rushing from his brain to much lower down, and he felt the need to adjust his loincloth to ease some of the discomfort he was currently experiencing. What was this? Who were these people? He's never seen them before among the humans, and Eywa, was Neteyam glad to say that.

"Um... Norm, I don't think this is the experiment you wanted me to see."

Norm walked over to where Neteyam was sitting, mildly amused at Neteyam and his obvious lack of skill around technology. Neteyam almost jumped out of his skin at Norm's gasp and startled demeanour when he saw what Neteyam was looking at, and at how aggressively he was pushing the off button, trying to remove the image from his eyes, and his brain.

"Fuck... I... I'm so sorry, Neteyam. I -..." Neteyam watched dumbfounded as Norm turned on his heels and left, still wearing his labcoat and goggles, and he knew that if Norm were to have a tail, it'd definitely be in between his legs right now.

You were sprawled on the bed similarly to how you had been just a few hours ago, except right now you had the added weight of a almost 9 foot tall alien on top of you, a weight you'd never want to lose. He looked nervous about one thing or another, and you knew based on how his breath was increasing in speed that he was going to spill it soon enough.

"What is it, Teyam? Come on, out with it."

His cheeks turned a deep shade of purple as his eyes avoided yours.

"I saw something today, on Norm's laptop... something I don't think I was meant to see."

"Oh?" That definitely peaked your attention. What would anything on Norm's laptop make Neteyam so fidgety?

"It was... a man and a woman... they were... uhm... naked." Neteyam felt like his face was about to catch fire, and you cackled loudly, finding it hard to believe that Norm had porn on his laptop and was so careless about it.

"OH, MY GOD! I'M NEVER LETTING HIM LIVE THIS DOWN!"

"Wh-what.. was it?"

"Oh, yawne... it's called porn. It's... a video of people going at it."

Neteyam's confusion didn't lessen; quite the opposite, actually.

"But why?"

"Well, let's see, what did it make you feel?" Your raised eyebrow and knowing smirk was enough to make Neteyam's ears flatten in shame.

"Well...I -"

You chuckled. "There you go. That's why. It helps humans... release tension. If it's done well, it can be quite the experience."

"D-do you watch... porn?" the word felt weird and unfamiliar rolling off his tongue.

"Sometimes. But honestly, I think I'd prefer making porn."

Neteyam almost choked at your words, but couldn't help the way his cock twitched in his tewng, and how much his mind wandered at the image he saw and how much he wanted to see you in it, it in front of his eyes, there captured for eternity for him to enjoy... over and over again.

"You... want to... make porn?"

Your hips raised, brushing against his now rock hard-on, moaning a little at the way it relieved some of the pressure building up in your core.

"Only with you, yawne."

He kissed you passionately, ripping the buttons on your top as he undressed you, and made a mental note of yet another thing he should thank humans for.

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wanda-widow · 2 months

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Plum Croissants With a Side of Sunshine

Private Chef!f!Reader x Avenger!Bucky

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Bucky isn't used to people caring for him, much less being persistent with it because they think he deserves it. It all comes to a halt when Tony decided to hire a private chef who also has everyone's best interest in mind.

Warnings: slight angst, Bucky's kind of an asshole, fluff

18+ MDNI

Don't forget to like and reblog 🩷

Bucky's usual afternoon routine was work out, go for a run, and then go to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers as dinner. Simple, easy, and he was left alone. He liked the familiar routine, the limited interaction. And he was perfectly fine with it staying that way.

What he wasn't perfectly fine with was walking into the kitchen one afternoon to find it packed with agents and his fellow team members, the vast dining table filled with fresh food. He took one look and turned the other way, deciding to eat later when Steve saw him.

"Hey Buck, you gotta try some of these dishes, they're almost heavenly" Steve yelled over thx chatter, waving him over as Bucky sighed wearily, turning around to almost smack into you.

"Ah, sorry" you said sheepishly, the platter of food wobbling in your hand slightly before you steadied it. Setting it on the counter, you turned back to Bucky to take in his full appearance. Shorter hair, piercing blue eyes, light stubble around his jaw. Tall. You offered a small smile up at him.

"I'm Y/N, Tony hired me a couple days ago but I haven't seen you around. You must be Bucky, right?" you said, excited to finally meet the super soldier that the team had been telling you about.

"Yeah, it's Bucky" he responded flatly before walking to the table to get some food, cutting off any further conversation.

You frowned to yourself but decided to not take it personally. Natasha had told you he was closed off especially after the whole deal with the Accords. Not that you could blame him, he had been through enough in one lifetime. You went to go wash the dishes, wondering how you could get the surly soldier to open up to you.

A few days passed with no sight of Bucky but you weren't surprised. It was late one evening when on a whim, you decided to bake. Taking out the ingredients you needed, you hummed some song that was playing on the radio earlier, feeling yourself slip into your comfort zone again.

Bucky was up, as he always was during these late nights. Sleep seemed impossible at times, flashes of blood and chaos invading his mind every time he closed his eyes. Scrubbing a weary hand down his face, he got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants to get some water.

As he padded to the kitchen, he paused at the sight of you dancing to your own tune in the kitchen, cleaning a couple dishes. The faint scent of a pastry layered with something sweeter enticed him but he shook himself out of the trace.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, voice rough with disuse as he slipped past you to get a glass.

"Oh! Bucky, hi. Uh, something like that. Just had the urge to make something and since I am getting paid to cook, might as well make the most of it" you said softly, stretching as you made your way to the oven.

His eyes followed your movements as you pulled out a steaming rack of croissants, the flaky pasty littered with strays of purple streaks.

"Plum croissants" you explained after seeing his furrowed brow. "Wanna try one? Steve told me you liked plums"

"No" he said flatly but his eyes kept straying back to the dessert. Frustrated, he left the kitchen with his glass of water, leaving you wondering if you had messed up.

However, in the next 2 days, the croissants were gone. Of course, the team could've eaten them but whenever you asked around, they said that they never knew they existed.

You were finishing up the last of the dinner dishes when you heard quiet footsteps behind you, freezing when you turned around.

Raising an eyebrow, you fought back a smile at the sight of Bucky holding the croissant jar against his chest, the container clearly empty.

"You liked my croissants" you stated as he scowled, putting the jar on the counter.

"They were okay" he muttered, glancing away as you held back a giggle, taking the jar to wash it.

"You uh... you like baking?" he asked awkwardly, grabbing a napkin to clean the grooves in his metal arm.

"Yeah... I think it's a little more calming than cooking" you replied after a moment, turning back around to lean against the counter, watching him.

"What." he snapped slightly, avoiding eye contact like a guilty child.

"I can't believe you actually liked the plum croissants" you laughed softly, a bright smile blooming across your face. Bucky didn't trust himself to look at you, at the sunshine you radiated.

Coming around the counter, you slid onto the stool next to him, observing his expression for a moment. Troubled.

"You don't like it when people take care of you?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Stop prying" he frowned, glancing quickly at you before meticulously focusing on one area of his arm.

"I'll take that as a yes" you hummed, yawning and stretching your arms above your head. "You know it's not a bad thing, people are just looking out for you"

He stayed silent, staring at his arm.

"Bucky?"

"I don't need your pity"

There was a strain in his voice, barely, but it was there.

"Bucky-"

"You're just a fucking chef, what would you know" came his biting reply.

"O-oh. Sorry, I didn't... um, it's late so I'm gonna go to bed" you whispered, the words cutting deeper than you'd like to admit. Sure, you were a chef but you also knew people. Knew how to connect with them.

Bucky watched as you hurried off, wondering why his words felt so wrong after he said it. He could almost feel the dimness of your light, like he sucked it out of you.

It was easy to say he hated himself for it.

It was a week later when you found a brown paper bag placed outside your door. You were oblivious to the pair of eyes watching you, wanting you to open it.

You reached out to get it, a familiar faint sweet smell reaching your nose. Opening it, you saw a somewhat attempted plum croissant and bit the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh.

You glanced around the hall before you spotted him lingering in a corner, watching your reaction. You stood there quietly, waiting for him to say something.

"I'm.... sorry... for lashing out" he finally said, shoulders slumping in defeat as he walked over to where you stood. "I'm not used to people being so insistent on caring about me or going out of their way to make... croissants"

"Thank you for the apology. And the croissant" you said, looking back down at the sad croissant before putting the bag down and wrapping your arms around him.

He paused for a moment, not used to the physical affection before wrapping his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. After a moment, he tilted his head down so that he could nuzzle his nose in your hair.

"Can you make some more croissants though?" came his muffled voice.

"Bucky!" you laughed, slapping his shoulder as he continued hugging you while walking you backwards to the kitchen.

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auteurdelabre · 2 months

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SO MUCH TO LOSE - CHAPTER 8 - Dark!Joel x f!Reader

rating is 18+ folks! words: 6.8k pairing: dark!Joel x f!Reader tags: Mentions of past trauma (Sarah death), Dan Brown, sexual tension, mentions of alcohol, Joel has PTSD. NO use of y/n. A/N: I got some amazing comments here and on A03 where one user breaks down each chapter and highlights what they liked with hilarious commentary and I'll be honest its what has me tip tapping away so quick! Please be sure to spread the love and leave a comment! masterlist here --------------------

Chapter 8: Shoulder to Shoulder

You're halfway through your latest acquisition, The DaVinci Code, a book Jennifer lent you last week. You're so engrossed in a world so unlike your own that you're startled when Ellie slaps herself across from you at the table, barking out your name.

"When are we baking?"

"I gave Joel the list the last time I saw him," you tell her honestly. "As soon as he has the ingredients we can do it."

Ellie sighs, slumping in irritation.

"Who knows when that'll be," she groans. "He takes forever to do stuff."

You watch as her posture suddenly stiffens, her eyes peering over your shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"Dina." Ellie sneers. "She's so annoying."

Your glance over your shoulder to see Dina laughing with a group of teens. Your eyes dart back to Ellie's face to see her cheeks are flushed and she's still staring over your shoulder.

"Ellie, have you ever heard the saying that there's a fine line between love and hate?"

"No."

"When I was your age it was the people that I pretended not to like that I actually did," you tell her sagely. Ellie wrinkles her nose.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I wonder if you might have feelings for Dina," you say softly. "Romantic feelings."

You don't want to scare her, but you also can sense that there's something there.

"She's a girl," Ellie laughs, but her smile is flat.

"So?"

"So I'm a girl," Ellie tells you as if you're dim.

"Girls can like girls."

Judging by the way Ellie stares at you, this concept is either foreign to her or she doesn't want to share this part of herself with you just yet.

You see the way Ellie squirms in her seat, her cheeks pinking and you decide to drop the subject. You go back to your book, chewing your oatmeal slowly. You feel Ellie's eyes on you.

"Could you come over this week anyway?" She asks, eyes wide. "We could make those paper flowers like you made for Maria?"

The thought of being in Joel's home so close to your last interaction with him makes you work hard to hold back your grimace.

"Why don't you come to mine?" You ask, trying to sound neutral. "I have all the supplies there."

"Okay, I'll tell Joel," Ellie is smiling brightly. "And maybe-"

Before she can finish you hear your name being called. Ellie's scowl is back as she watches Jennifer round on the table, her tray filled with eggs, oatmeal and tea. Behind her is Luke is giving you both a shy smile.

"Morning guys," Jennifer says brightly. "Mind if we join you?"

"I'll let you know when Joel gets the stuff," Ellie mutters to you, preparing to stand. "See you later."

"You don't have to leave," Jennifer insists in a saccharine tone you just know Ellie despises.

Ellie mutters about needing to get to school, sliding off the bench seat and moving past Jennifer who tries to throw a smile her way.

"Bye Ellie."

Jennifer slides her tray across from you, slumping into her seat, obviously disappointed. Luke takes the empty bench seat next to her, his eyes on his food.

"She hates me," Jennifer says with a frown.

"Nah she's just shy," you lie, not wanting Jennifer's feelings to be hurt. She gives you a knowing smile before looking at the novel in your hands.

"You enjoying the book?"

"Yeah, thanks for lending it to me," you say with a smile.

"I liked his first one Angels and Demons,” Luke offers gently when he sees what you’re reading, his voice a husky murmur. You like how he doesn't quite meet anyone's eyes when he talks. It's endearing.

"I’ve never read his stuff before,” you offer. “Not particularly good writing, but it’s nice to read about somewhere that isn’t all raiders and clickers.”

Jennifer watches the two of you as she sips her tea, her light eyes volleying between the two of you as you talk about the book.

"I thought Luke could shoot with us today," Jennifer says with a queer little smile. "He was saying he wanted to get better for when he and I are on patrols. Is that okay?"

Luke gives you a nervous little smile. "I understand if you just want it to be you two."

You find the thought of more time spent with Luke to be a very appealing idea.

"Of course you can join."

"Great."

You watch Jennifer and Luke who chat quietly to one another, feeling strangely left out. You preferred it when it was just Jennifer with her soft way of talking to you.

Luke excuses himself to get some more eggs and the second he's out of earshot Jennifer is leaning forward conspiratorially.

"He's cute, huh?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Pretty sure he likes you," Jennifer giggles. "I mentioned we were doing shooting lessons and he was suddenly all keen."

You feel your cheeks heat up at the suggestion. Romance has never really been something you thought about. Survival had always been your focus, even here in Jackson where you have a warm bed and a roof over your head the back of your mind is always fixed on what could come next.

"He's nice," is all you offer.

It's a honest reply because, you really do think he's nice. He's gentle and he doesn't make you feel anxious like some of the leering men of Jackson. He’s soft and quiet and maybe that’s what makes your pulse jump a bit when he rejoins you seconds later.

///

"You close one eye completely, you lose peripheral vision and depth perception, and you need these to acquire the target and determine lead."

Jennifer speaks like she's reading from a book that everyone has already read and memorized. But none of it makes sense to you and you feel your frustration building.

You and Luke have been practicing with her all afternoon, your forehead dotted with sweat. And while yes, your shot is much better now that you’re aiming with the right eye, you feel like you’re still not good enough.

“You’re doing so well,” she encourages nonetheless, smiling at you.

“You really are,” Luke insists from behind you. Luke is a fast learner, already a decent shot. He’s been doing it a lot longer than you have, and using the correct eye.

“Not good enough,” you mutter sourly to yourself. “Missed that last can.”

Jennifer looks over to the can placed at a fair distance in one of the trees. You’ve hit most of the other ones, but that one keeps evading you.

“Honey that’s a far shot,” Jennifer says covering her eyes with her hand to block the winter sun. “Even I don’t get it most of the time.”

“I didn’t get it once.”

For some reason you can’t stop hearing Joel’s voice in the back of your head: useless. It feels like with every miss you’re just proving his point further.

“Okay sourpuss,” Jennifer says with a roll of her eyes. “We’re taking a break and getting a drink down at the Bison.”

The two of you agree, falling in line behind her. You watch her light hair dance in the breeze as she chats animatedly to the two of you. You wonder why she isn’t inviting her other friends to join you when it belatedly hits you.

She’s trying to get you and Luke together. You think of her winks and nudges and suddenly you know exactly what she’s doing. You want to be embarrassed or even irritated, but instead you find your heartbeat jumping.

The three of you leave your weapons at Jennifer’s before heading down into town. Your mood is lightened a bit by their company and the bright day. Snow has come to Jackson, just a small sprinkling but a definite harbinger of greater snowfall ahead.

The three of you push into the rowdy pub, filled with familiar faces. Some play cards, others are telling stories over pints. A woman named (Reba or Rebecca you think?) stands behind the pub, waving you in and telling you to shut the door because of the draft.

A few folks wave and call out hello’s to Jennifer who returns them with a beaming smile.

The three of you find an empty booth and pull off your jackets and scarves. You take a seat in the booth against the wall, a habit from before; you like to know what’s going on. From here you can see most everything and everyone who enters the space. Jennifer sits opposite you, Luke following close behind. From here you can see his face, taking in the friendly way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and the slight gap in his front teeth.

The Tipsy Bison is self serve and you offer to grab the first round, thanking Reba at the bar and bringing the three gold-colored pints over to the table. Luke and Jennifer are deep in conversation about home repair. They look up and thank you when you slide their drinks to them across the lacquered table.

“I still can’t believe they have a jukebox,” Luke breathes, his eyes lighting up when he gazes at the glowing machine. It plays a pulsing beat that you aren’t familiar with, something to keep the space feeling inviting.

“Go put on a tune,” Jennifer insists, nudging him with her elbow. “Something good.”

Luke gives a toothy grin before nodding. The two of you watch his lanky frame make his way over to the jukebox, heard only faintly over the din of the patrons. You watch him go, your eyes sliding over to Jennifer when she giggles.

“You like him.”

“No I don’t,” you answer reflexively. Your cheeks burn and Jennifer knows not to push it further right now. It’s like she can tell you’re a turtle who will retreat inside her shell if threatened. You think of how to distract her, to turn her to another topic, her favorite one.

“Seen Joel lately?”

You hate how his name sounds in your ears. You hate the syllables, hate how it feels in your mouth like a bitter candy. But you don’t tell her that.

You don’t tell Jennifer that since he came on your tits and announced your carnal times had come to an end that you’d actively avoided him. That you hadn’t come out of your house until this afternoon to practice shooting. That you were going so far as to eat tinned soup just so you wouldn’t run into Ellie at meals.

"I swear I give up," Jennifer sighs, dropping her voice to a whisper only the two of you can hear. "Joel Miller is a lost cause. I've given him every hint."

"Maybe he's just shy," you offer with a shrug. For all you know he might be.

"Or maybe he doesn't like me," Jennifer sighs. "Maybe I'll just be single forever."

You smirk at Jennifer's amusing propensity for the dramatic. As if someone that looked and acted like her could be single forever. Beautiful? Check. Good with weapons? Check. Confident? Check. You muse that if you were attracted to women you’d want her for yourself.

"Or maybe he likes someone else," Jennifer offers with a shrug but your attention is back on Luke who is approaching the table. The gentle strains of some old song play in the background. You think you recognize it from car rides with your family. Luke takes his seat next to Jennifer, his eyes scanning between the two of you.

“What did I miss?”

“Just Joel Miller talk,” Jennifer sighs, plopping her chin in her hands. “The man is an enigma.”

"That's the nicest way of saying asshole that I've ever heard,” you mutter.

Jennifer sputters a laugh at your mumbled remark, almost dribbling out some of her beer.

"Shit, you're funny."

You smile into your mug, trying not to feel too pleased with yourself and failing miserably. You can't remember the last time someone told you that you were funny. Your sister most likely. It feels good.

Before long the three of you have been talking for almost an hour. Your pints are drained and its Luke who stands, cracking his back until you hear the pops.

"I'm going to get another drink. You ladies want anything?"

"I’m okay but she’ll have another," Jennifer says cheerfully pointing at you. When Luke is out of earshot up at the bar she leans across the table in your direction again.

"I don’t care what you say, you like him and he likes you. I'm sure of it. Just look how attentive he’s being."

You feel your face flush, pleased. You don't know how she came to this conclusion but you like the sound of it. The door to the Bison props open and you hear Reba sigh as she pours another whiskey for a sleepy looking woman at the bar.

“Tommy close that dang door unless you wanna rustle us up a space heater!”

You feel your eyes drawn over to the door with a small smile starting. It immediately falls from your face when you see that Tommy isn’t alone. His older, taller, sulk of an asshole brother is with him too.

"It’s him," Jennifer whispers, glancing over her shoulder

Fuck.

Joel Miller walks into every space like he owns it and is disappointed by it. His heavy lidded eyes sail around the room, taking in the patrons, offering polite nods and tight-lipped smiles at the ones he recognizes.

Luke is retrieving the two pints of beer when the Miller brothers take a seat on the empty stools at the bar while Reba busies herself with another customer. You watch over Jennifer’s shoulder as Luke says something you can't hear to Joel. Joel is wearing a glower so menacing it almost makes you gulp. Tommy gives his brother a strange look before answering Luke.

You turn back to Jennifer, trying to hide the smirk at her dreamy look. You almost laugh when she unbuttons her cardigan until the swell of her cleavage is showing.

“Just go over to him.”

“I can’t,” she says breathless as she looks back to you. “I don’t wanna be too obvious.”

“Never stopped you before,” you joke before freezing when Jennifer’s eyes go wide.

Was that joke too far? Have you fucked this all up? You feel your throat go dry before Jennifer gives a tinkling laugh, slapping your hand affectionately.

“Oh shuddap.”

Relief floods you, distracting you from Luke’s approach until you feel his hand trail over your shoulder lightly.

"Here you go."

You feel your stomach clench as you take the drink from Luke, eyes skittering shyly from his face to his hand where it lingers on your shoulder a moment longer.

“Thanks.”

"Do you think he's waiting for us to invite him over?" Jennifer mutters more to herself than anything.

"I don't think so," Luke says with a forced laugh as he takes his seat beside her. You feel his knee brush against yours under the table and you swallow.

"I'm gonna do it," Jennifer promises, taking a moment to build her nerve. She takes a sip of your pint, breathing out.

As she does this you chance a glance in the direction of the stool Joel was occupying, expecting to find it vacated. Instead he sits there, eyes trained in the direction of your table, no doubt gazing at the back of Jennifer’s head.

"Joel! Tommy!" Jennifer suddenly calls over with a cheerful lilt. "Come join us!"

No. Please no. No no no.

You try to hide your grimace. You don't mind Tommy, but thoughts of avoiding Joel's eyes make you cringe. Especially since you haven’t spoken since he kicked you out of his house last week. You turn your full attention to your pint, hoping that they’ll deny the request.

You hear shuffling and your shoulders rise to your ears. You try to think of a reason that you can leave, but anything you say would be too obvious. Plus, you really like Tommy and Maria, why should you be chased off by Joel every time you have the opportunity to hang out with one of them?

Your pint shows only your haunted reflection before another face swims into view. Joel Miller looking down at you. Even in the swimming reflection his dark eyes pierce you. You jerk your head up, trying to avoid him. You shoot a wobbly smile in his brother’s direction instead.

“Hey Tommy. How’s Maria?”

“Good,” Tommy replies and you can see the relief there in the warm brown of his eyes. He doesn’t look as tired. “She’s with Douglas and some friends right now.”

You nod, not wanting to say anything more that would draw unnecessary attention. But Jennifer seems to have observed her absence.

“I haven’t seen much of Maria lately,” she says, her face curling into a cute pout. “Not since the baby was born.”

“She doesn’t really like the cold,” Tommy says with a falter.

“Since when?” Jennifer laughs. “Last winter she-“

“I heard in some cultures it’s normal for the mother to stay in bed for at least twenty one days,” you offer quietly. “And they do a celebration a hundred days after the baby is born with, like a big dinner.

All eyes at the table are now on you and you feel a smidgen of relief at having drawn the attention away from the Maria topic. Joel is staring at you with an unreadable look and Jennifer is looking at you with a queer little smile.

“How do you know that?”

“I had a friend who was Japanese.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway,” Tommy breaks in, relief clear in his features, “the reason I came in was because I’m lookin’ for some volunteers for Patrol C’s slot on Friday.”

At this you hasten a glance to your Friday patrol partner who is looking to his brother patiently. Joel holds a half-full pint glass in his hand, the other shoved awkwardly into his coat pocket. He seems to be ignoring you as much as you’re ignoring him.

“There’s that repair in the old library outpost that we gotta fix quick before more snow gets here. We got that lumber in, plus some nails the other day and we need some extra hands to cart it there and build. So I’m tryin’ to scout a few folks who wouldn’t mind helping. Obviously Joel’ll be doin’ most of it.”

"I'm really good with repair," Jennifer chirps eagerly, smiling up at both the Miller brothers. "Especially windows. And Luke used to work in construction."

Luke gives a small, shy wave. You see Joel frown at that before his attention is back on his brother.

"You two sure?" Tommy looks surprised. "Was gonna offer the volunteers extra portions this week as a thanks. You okay with that?"

"Would have done it for free," Jennifer assures him. You hold in a knowing smirk. Yeah, she sure would. She'd do anything to secure more time with Joel.

“How about you, Luke?”

“I’m game.”

"Great," Tommy says with a grateful smile. "Saves me having to find a few volunteers. You two show up on Friday and we'll put you to work. Lemme know if ya’ll change your mind."

You figure you’d best speak up because you don’t want to disappoint Tommy but you also know that your skills with home repair are limited. You’d rather be switched that week so someone else can go in your place. You also don’t want to chance that Joel will verbally lambaste you in front of Luke and Jennifer during patrols.

“I’m not much good with repairs,” you offer quietly.

“Oh, I know,” Tommy says with a playful wink shot your way. “I remember the stables last summer.”

You feel Jennifer and Luke’s eyes on you and you even think you can feel Joel’s brows rising in surprise and intrigue.

During your first month in Jackson City you’d attempted to be a part of things by volunteering for the stable rebuild that now houses Chestnut, Glimmer and a host of other horses and livestock. You’d worked so hard in that blazing sun, but no matter what your nails always seemed to bent the wrong way or the wood was crooked. By the middle of the day Tommy was urging you to leave and get some water and that you’d worked enough for one day and should go home to relax.

But you hadn’t missed the way he started taking apart your work before you were even down the street. Hadn’t missed the soft chuckles from some of the others who were working on the project. Half the town had been there that day, maybe even Jennifer, but all you remember the humiliation of seeing your own inadequacy highlighted.

You’d assumed Tommy wouldn’t bring it up. But perhaps he’s a bit more like Joel than you give him credit for.

“Does that mean you want me to do Patrol A or something that week?” you offer, trying to swallow your shame.

"No no, it's your regular patrol day and you've got good eyes," Tommy tells you, all guile gone from his features. "Repairing the window might draw attention. Wanna make sure someone is watching out while the group works."

You can't deny a feeling of pride that goes through you at the thought that you're important enough to be brought along for the journey. You’d assumed you’d be left behind. You wait for Joel to scoff or roll his eyes but to your delight he does neither.

"Okay."

Tommy nods and looks like he’s going to set off for home when Jennifer shoots he and Joel a charismatic smile.

“Join us,” Jennifer all but purrs. “We’re just having another round.”

You don’t remind her that her glass is empty. Your eyes go back to your drink, trying to think of a way to extricate yourself from this awkward interaction.

“I gotta get back to Maria,” Tommy says with a tired smile. “I just needed to get some volunteers and thanks to y’all I have.”

You hear Jennifer’s breathing hitch a moment. “Joel? How about you?”

No. Say no. No.

There’s a pause, a shuffling of boots and then you feel a warm and sturdy body slide into the booth next to you. The booth is tight and the nigh is busy so there’s not much room to spread out. You feel his thigh press into yours and hold in a groan of displeasure.

Why couldn’t Luke have sat next to you at the start? Now you’re stuck being shoulder to shoulder with a man you can barely stand. The four of you sit across from one another like two couples on an increasingly awkward double date.

You all wave Tommy off before the moment grows quiet with only the other patrons as a soundtrack to the evening. You glance out the corner of your eyes to see Joel’s large hand around the pint glass, raising it to his pouty mouth before drinking deeply.

“So you have construction experience, Joel?” Jennifer offers and you don’t miss how she presses her arms together, highlighting her cleavage. You hide an amused smirk behind your glass, thankful that at least you’ll have Jennifer’s antics to amuse you.

“Carpentry.”

“Me too,” Luke offers and you can see him swallow nervously before looking at the elder Miller in the face. “Specifically cabinetry.”

Joel grunts a reply before taking another sip of his beer. As the men sit across from one another you can't help but observe that Luke has long, tapered fingers, like an artist. Joel's fingers are also long but more blunt, more masculine looking. You don't know why you draw the comparison but you do.

“I used to do framing with-“ Jennifer starts, but Joel has turned his attention to you.

“What was Tommy talkin’ about with you and the stables?”

Why is he talking to you? It’s not like you’re friends. Is he trying to intimidate you? Humiliate you? You don’t meet his gaze.

“Nothing,” you mutter, taking another sip of your pint. “Was nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothin’.”

You hold in a grimace. Your eyes shoot across the table and you can see Jennifer eyeing you and Joel a moment before smirking. “I’m kinda curious too.”

Luke gives you an encouraging grin as well and you swallow, licking your lips anxiously because they suddenly feel bone dry. You wish that you were anywhere else but sitting here in a crowded room feeling trapped.

You don’t want to share that humiliation with anyone else, especially Joel who already thinks you’re useless. You want the attention turning to anyone, to anything else. But all eyes at the table are on you and you feel a flush creeping up your neck.

“I have to go.”

Before anyone can interject you’ve stood up, dragging your coat over your shoulders. You’re about to leave when you feel Joel’s hand on your wrist holding you in place. You turn to face him, scowling as you rip your wrist from his embrace.

“Forgot this,” Joel rumbles.

You glance down to see him holding your red scarf in his fingers. He’s holding it in much the same way he always did before winding it around your eyes and at the sight of it in his grip you feel your throat run dry.

Your eyes flick to his, not immune to the way they darken when you swallow. You snatch it from him, offering a quiet thanks and disappearing out the door.

///

It’s Thursday before you come out of your house again.

You’ve been sequestered in your house all week eating tinned tuna and re-reading old books in your collection. You even toyed with the idea of doing something with your boring walls before deciding it was too much work.

Your humiliation at the Bison hasn’t left you. Neither has the way Jennifer threw you under the bus in front of Joel. Why did she go along with him questioning you? She must have seen how embarrassed you were!

She’s been by several times, knocking and calling your name but you never answer. You’re too embarrassed. You think you’re a little angry with her as well. But you don’t know if it’s justified or if you’re just too sensitive.

She tried leaving cookies a few days ago but they were inedible. Seems Jennifer isn’t good at everything. But you decide the next time you see her that you’ll let all of this go.

So when the door knocks that Thursday morning you slowly open the door, expecting to see Jennifer’s face. To your shock it’s Ellie who stands there in a thick blue parka giving you an incredulous look.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Huh?”

“I haven’t seen you at the dining hall,” she says, sniffling.

“Oh just been feeling a little under the weather,” you lie, fingernail absently scraping the wood frame beside your door. You notice that the end of Ellie’s nose is red from the cold. “You wanna come in for a warm drink?”

“Nah, you said we could make flowers.”

“Oh right,” you answer awkwardly glancing from your feet to hers. “Sorry Ellie. We can do it today if you want.”

“You’re not busy?”

“Nope,” you say, moving to give her space to pass. “Come in and-“

“Nah let’s do it at mine,” Ellie insists, taking you by the hand and tugging. “I got a bunch of that colored paper and wire stuff from Maria plus I wanna show you my room. Joel let me convert the whole garage.”

Everything in you screams no, but Ellie’s earnest face has you immediately caving. Plus you promised her. You sigh, pulling on your jacket and allowing her to lead you to Rancher Street.

///

“Then you wrap the wire around the base like that,” you instruct, reminding her about the extra loop. “Yeah, perfect.”

The two of you have been seated at her kitchen table for over an hour. Colorful swatches of ripped paper and wires decorate the wood. Turns out Ellie is a very quick learner when it comes to the arts. It’s not long before she’s folding tulips and peonies even better than you ever could.

Joel is mercifully nowhere to be found. Ellie mentioned he was out with Tommy doing some errand that would take him several hours. Once she’d made that announcement you’d been able to relax some.

It still feels weird to be in Joel’s house. In your head it was a dark dungeon with dishes piled high and guns on every wall. So far you’ve seem just a bit of the house which is decorated in whites and blues and the deep brown of carved wood. A normal, boring, ordinary house. A few too many framed photos of horses on the wall but he is a man from Texas after all.

The fireplace is cozy today with the chill of the approaching winter, the kind of cold that settles into the bones. But with the fireplace and mugs of hot chocolate that Ellie insisted on making you both, you find you don’t notice it much. As with meals she likes to pepper you with questions.

"What was the last book you were reading back before everything happened?"

"Mmm that's a good question," you tell her, squinting as you try to recall. "I think it was the latest Harry Potter."

"Who's Harry Porter?" Ellie asks, her tongue sticking to the side as she focuses on smoothing a particularly stubborn piece of paper.

"Potter," you gently correct her. "It's about a boy wizard."

"Like Gandalf? I already read about him. Joel has those books."

This takes you aback for a moment. In your mind Joel doesn't read. You kind of just assumed that when he's not on patrol or with the horses he's sleeping or cleaning his guns. The thought of him enjoying something the same as you makes him feel more human.

"No, a young boy goes to wizarding school," you supply. It's a bit of an undersell of the book but Ellie is already rolling her eyes.

"A wizard going to school? That's fucking stupid."

"Couldn't agree more," you say scanning the books she's brought with her. "But they were all the rage."

When the first paper bouquet is finished Ellie announces that she wants to show you her room. She doesn’t give you much option but you smile at the earnestness anyway. You follow her to the door that opens up to the garage. You expect it to be chilly but obviously it’s been insulated well because it’s warmer than the house.

It’s also massive. A large, unmade bed rests by a window on the far side. The walls are lined with mismatched desks and a rolling chair. A couch with a yellow gingham blanket is on the other side, a coffee table made out of crates holds several magazines.

An easel rests nearby, an apron hung upon it. Ellie is quite the artist you’ve come to learn. On the wall you spot a poster of an astronaut and you smile faintly to yourself. You remember your own childhood ambitions of space travel.

Aside from the unmade bed the space is rather meticulous for a teenage girl. You wonder if it’s her upbringing back in her youth or because Joel is a strict caregiver. You still don’t know how long he’s been in her life. Ellie watches you survey her space with a grin. You think she must feel how you did when you first moved into your space; safe and proud.

You see the sketchbooks piled on one of the desks as you wander over to it.

“You draw?”

“Sometimes,” she says, opening the book and placing it on the table. She flips through a few pages before stopping on a graphite drawing of what appears to be a strange-looking horse.

“I tried drawing Glimmer but I keep fucking up her eyes,” she explains with a pout.

“I think it looks good,” you answer honestly. Ellie glances up at you, shy from the praise before giving a crooked grin. She calls you over to her bookshelf and asks you to look through the titles.

“You read any of these before?”

You crouch down to see all of the titles near the bottom; many are familiar pulpy novels you’d find in an airport. One catches your attention and you tug it from its confines, standing and holding it.

“I remember reading this to my sister,” you murmur, eyes misty. Ellie brushes the hair from her face as she invites you to takes a seat next to her on the couch. The two of you look at the book together, both cross legged, knees touching.

“The Giver,” Ellie reads.

“It’s a good one,” you tell her. “It’s about a boy with a job he doesn’t want but was born for. He kinda discovers what good and evil is and if you can have one without the other. I’m doing a shitty job of summarizing it, but it’s a really good book from what I remember.”

“Sounds good,” Ellie murmurs. She tilts her head to read the first page and at this distance you notice the kinks and knots at the back of her ponytail.

"When's the last time you brushed your hair?" You chide gently. Ellie ducks her head and shrugs.

“Dunno.”

You swivel in spot on the couch, facing the other end and pat the blanket in front of you in invitation.

"Grab a brush. You read, I'll de-tangle," you offer. She pauses, thinking about your offer before she rushes to the bathroom, returning moments later with a harried looking comb. You raise a brow at this and she laughs.

“S’all I’ve got.”

She clamors up, facing away from you with the book in her lap. She begins reading, tripping over the odd word.

"Instantly, obediently, Jonas had dropped his bike on its side on the path behind his family’s dwelling. He had run indoors and stayed there, alone."

Her voice is steady and she plays with the edge of the pages as she reads.

"Lily looked up, her eyes wide. “The Ceremony of Twelve,” she whispered in an awed voice. Even the smallest children Lily’s age and younger -knew that it lay in the future for each of them."

You find the sensation of being read to and brushing the girls knotted hair to be strangely soothing.

"Your hair is such a beautiful color" you say before she begins on the next chapter, seeing the way the colors shine in the sunlight.

Ellie doesn't answer and you wonder if she's embarrassed by the compliment. Teenagers are never known for loving extra unwanted attention.

Brushing the dark strands of Ellie's you’re struck by how tense the girl is, like a trapped animal. Her shoulders are practically up to her ears. As if she isn't familiar with the sensation of a kindly touch.

"Did your mom never do this for you?"

Even though she's facing away you can see the way Ellie's head tips forward, her eyes downcast.

"Never had a mom."

Your eyes shut momentarily as you chastise your own thoughtless stupidity. You don’t attempt to further this topic. For now you're content just to brush the girl's hair, smiling as Ellie relaxes with every stroke.

“I wonder if Sarah ever read this,” she mutters to herself as she begins the next chapter. You smooth a section of her hair, taking in the name.

"Who's Sarah?"

"Joel’s daughter," Ellie confides, her eyes on the paper in front of her. "She died on outbreak day."

You surmise that Ellie's so invested in the book that she doesn't even realize what she's saying or to whom.

You remember Maria telling you something of that during your visit with her. It makes your heart clench, thinking of the loss. Before you can stop yourself you’re probing for more information.

“How old was she?”

“Not old. Younger than me I think.”

A child.

You can’t imagine the pain that would create in someone. In all your experiences with Joel it was easy to forget that he had a past. Something that twisted him into the person that he is today. Even after Maria told you he’d lost a daughter you’d overlooked it, content on hating him for his changeable moods as if he had no motivation.

But you’ve lost as well, a voice reminds you. And you haven’t resorted to cruelty.

“Maria mentioned a soldier,” you pause, trying to work the comb through a particularly tricky knot. Ellie is quiet for a few moments as she reads the page she’s on, speaking only when she flips it over.

"Yeah, Joel was carrying Sarah. I think she broke her ankle or something. He was escaping a clicker. Soldier shot it, so Joel thought they were safe but they thought Sarah and him were infected because there were covered in blood."

Your stomach drops as you imagine a younger Joel carrying his daughter tightly in his arms, both terrified with her clinging to him. You’re quiet, not wanting to ask anymore. Already it feels like you’ve overstepped, learned too much about him.

"Joel told the soldier they were okay, not infected. But the soldier shot anyway. Clipped Joel, got Sarah bad."

You feel a wave of nausea hitting you. The thought of losing a child that way makes you physically ill. Your loss hurts so acutely even now, you can't imagine that kind of pain compounded by losing a piece you brought into existence.

“Joel told you all of this?”

“Nah, Maria did,” Ellie replies. “Joel talks with me a little bit about Sarah. Stuff she liked, TV shows and books and stuff. But not about how she died.”

It’s wrong of you to have pushed for more information. Especially since you and Joel are the furthest thing from friends.

"He blames himself for it," Ellie continues, fingers sliding between the pages of the book to turn to the next chapter. "Even though it was a soldier who shot at them. How can Joel blame himself for that?"

She approaches this topic almost naive. You've stopped brushing altogether; you can only stare down at the back of Ellie’s head blinking slowly.

"He seems like the kind of guy who's built to protect people," you offer gently.

"But he was unarmed. How's any of what happened his fault?"

"I don't know," you offer quietly. "Maybe he-"

"What the fuck are you two talkin' about?"

Neither of you heard Joel come in the garage, but he obviously heard enough of your conversation because he looks completely furious. He's a tall man with broad shoulders and the sight of him wild-eyed and fists curled makes you physically startle.

"Joel-" Ellie starts her face blanching.

"I said what are you two talkin' about?" His voice is icy, and takes you both by surprise

"Uh…We..." The open ire on his face makes you stumble over your words. You feel embarrassed at having been caught talking about him, you feel terrified at the vitriol in his eyes.

Your stunned reaction is all the confirmation he needs.

"Get out," Joel mumbles, his dark eyes sailing from you to Ellie. "And you? We need to talk."

Ellie is never afraid of Joel, not that you've seen. But when you look to her now you see her wince at the knowledge that she's overstepped.

Something in you forgets your own fear and you raise a hand in his direction, as if he's a wild animal you're attempting to tame.

"Joel, it's-" you try to interject, to hold back the fury that's crackling through the room. But instead he turns his cold gaze to you, his sharp jaw ticking.

"Get the fuck out now."

And you know that you have to leave. This isn't your place. Ellie isn't your daughter, Joel isn't your husband. This is basically a stranger's home.

"I'm sorry."

You shoot Ellie a sympathetic look but she's just staring at with rounded eyes. You can't help but stop at her side, your voice a soft murmur. "He won't hurt you will he?"

Ellie's eyes snap to yours with a mixture of shock and horror.

"Joel would never hurt me," Ellie explains before Joel has time to react to your question. "He's about the only one who never has."

The emphatic nature of her reply surprises you into taking a step backwards. A quick look over your shoulder at Joel tells you that his anger is dwindling at her words. You nod once more in Ellie's direction and then you slip by Joel to exit.

You’re just turning off Rancher Street when the tears begin to slip down your cheeks. They drip onto the collar of your jacket and they don’t stop until you close the door to your home behind you.

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

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