#old man is wrong because old lady is hot

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part One

A DBF!Joel Fic

You meet a stranger in a bar, one who is fun and sexy and makes you wonder if the single life is all it's cracked up to be. But there's one big problem: you probably shouldn't be fucking your dad's best friend.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (m and f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 6.8k

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot and then it started getting out of hand. It's going to just be two parts for the moment, this is going to be a very little baby fic, OK? Small. Lil baby story. Also. there's a hefty age gap and it comes up because logistics but no power imbalance. Thanks for always putting up with my shit, y'all are the best ❤️

Bar None, Present day

One of your friends had just put Single Ladies on the jukebox when you saw him across the bar. Bar None, the place you’d picked for the night, had one of those stupid app-powered ones and the three girls you had kept in touch with from high school had been abusing it all night long. But the man across the bar was so distracting that you hardly noticed. His eyes were locked on you, so tight and hot that it would send a chill up your spine if it was from the wrong set of eyes. But they were his eyes. Dark and molten and set into a sculpted face with patchy scruff and shaggy curl streaked with gray. 

No, you thought, he couldn’t spark anything but desire. 

“We should do the dance!” Your friend Emily slurred, tugging your arm. “C’mon! Now that you’re a single lady again, you have to own it.” 

She flashed her empty ring finger as Beyonce sang, a cocky - if half drunk - look on her face as she did. 

You smiled at her. 

“He did put a ring on it,” you twisted the stem of your martini glass. “That’s why there was a problem when he put his dick in someone else. I think I’ll pass on the Beyonce. But thank you.” 

“Come on drunky,” your friend Dana looped her arm around Emily’s waist. “Let’s go dance.” 

“Woooo!” Emily threw her arms in the air and Dana gave you an exasperated but happy smile over her shoulder as she guided her to the dance floor. 

“Jesus, is it that late?” Parker looked at her Apple watch. You half smiled and took a small sip of your drink as she rifled through her clutch for her phone and let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God, Kevin hasn’t been texting with a ton of stupid questions. Why did I think letting a baby get totally attached to me was a good idea? The fact that she only said mama for two weeks was great at first but now that she refuses to do bedtime without me, I’m having regrets…” 

“Do you need to go?” You asked, brows raised. 

She winced.

“Would you hate me if I left you with the party animals?” 

You laughed. 

“No,” you said. “Go home, see your husband and kid. I really do appreciate the warm welcome back, you have no idea.” 

“See?” She reached across the small table and gave your arm a squeeze. “I told you, just like old times.” 

“Did you go back home at 10:30 to make sure a baby was properly put to bed when we were 18?” You teased. “I forgot that part…” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“Almost old times,” she said. “Besides, you love Bella.” 

“I do love Bella,” you said. “And I love you. Go home, I’m good.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Positive. Text me when you get there?” 

“Of course,” she slipped off the bar stool and came around to give you a hug and kiss your cheek. “I really am glad you’re back. Even if it’s because Reid was a dumbass.” 

You just smiled a little and watched her leave, Parker pausing to wave to Dana on her way out the door. 

“This seat open?” 

The man from across the bar stood beside you, nodding to the seat Parker had just vacated. You smiled a little and nodded once. 

“You have very convenient timing.” 

“Well,” he shrugged. “Leaving a pretty girl all alone at the bar seems like a crime. Trying my damndest to stay on the right side of the law.” 

“And how’s that going for you these days?” 

He smirked a little. His cheek dimpled. 

“Well enough.” 

You looked at him, tracing the creases in his face with your eyes, the streaks of gray catching the low light of the bar. He was probably the oldest man there but damn, did he wear it well. 

“You in town for a visit?” He asked, turning his beer bottle in his fingers and nodding to your friends on the dance floor. “Seeing friends?” 

You cocked a little smile at him. 

“No, actually. Just moved back.” 

He raised his eyebrows, a look you couldn’t quite place passing over his warm features. His eyes drifted to your ring finger before he seemed to catch himself and look back at your face. You saved him the trouble, lifting your bare left hand and turning it so he could see. The indentation from your three carat engagement ring was still on your finger but your hand was empty. 

“I think we should talk, Joel.” 

Bar None, 10 years earlier 

The man across the bar had no damn business being that good looking. 

It was almost pissing you off how good looking he was. Tall, broad, with golden skin and thick, dark hair, he had the kind of face you wanted to explore intimately, in the way you could only do when someone was inside of you. The way men couldn’t control their expressions then was almost addicting. The way their eyes would roll back and their mouths would fall open, the way they stopped fucking around with pretense and just let themselves feel something - even if it was just your cunt - was beautiful and fascinating and almost elemental. It was like you could look into the very core of them for a moment, the way they always seemed to be able to look into you with just a glance. You wanted that with this man, whoever he was, this man who you caught glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“Aww,” Parker pouted happily at her phone. “Kevin misses me!” 

“Misses you?” Emily snatched the phone from her grasp, gaping at the screen. “You’ve been gone like two hours!” 

“Will you just…” Parker snatched the phone back and looked at the text again. “And I think it’s sweet.” 

“You’re ditching us, aren’t you?” Emily sighed. 

“I think so,” Parker winced. “Is that OK?” 

You just smiled a little. 

“Go see the guy who’s got you all crazy,” you said. “But I’ll see you again before I leave town, yeah?” 

“Course!” She came and gave you a hug. “Good luck getting rid of me. Have fun at that thing tomorrow!” 

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I’ll try.” 

Emily rolled her eyes and judged Parker for a bit but it was less than an hour before she was leaving, too, with a man who’d asked her to dance and bought her a beer. 

“You sure you’re alright?” She asked as she went to leave. 

“Babes, I know how to be at a bar on my own. And my hotel is two doors down. I think I can figure it out.” 

She kissed your cheek. 

“Love you,” she said. “Try to have some fun!” 

You watched her go, thinking about just how long you wanted to be sitting by yourself at a bar versus in a Holiday Inn Express standard room when a voice appeared beside you. 

“This seat open?” 

The man from across the bar nodded to the seat Emily had just abandoned. You smiled a little and nodded once. 

“You have very convenient timing.” 

“Well,” he shrugged. “Leaving a pretty girl all alone at the bar seems like a crime. Trying my damndest to stay on the right side of the law.” 

“And how’s that going for you?” 

He smirked a little. His cheek dimpled. 

“Well enough.”

You smiled and introduced yourself before holding out your hand. He took it. 

“Joel,” he said. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” 

“Because I’ve never been here before,” you smiled. “I’m in from out of town, my hotel is a few doors down. This was convenient and hey, the Yelp reviews weren’t the worst.” 

“What brings you to the great city of Austin, Texas?” He asked, settling in on the seat beside you. He was older than you but you kind of liked men that way now that you were in your mid 20s and exhausted by every man you’d dated in college. You liked them a little older, more established, men who knew how to cook their own damn food and give you your own damn orgasm. “Business or pleasure?” 

“Neither,” you smiled a little, taking a sip of your drink. “Family event.” 

“That’s not pleasure?” 

You laughed once.

“Not the way my family does it.” 

“That why you’re in a hotel and not stayin’ with them?” He asked, brows raised. 

“Bingo,” you replied. “I get in, I get drunk, I get out.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Good system.” 

“Worked well enough for me over the years.” 

The two of you ended up talking about music and books and UT football until last call - far later than you’d intended to stay out. 

“Mind if I walk you back to your hotel?” Joel asked. “Not tryin’ to be a creep but… I’d sleep a lot better tonight knowin’ you got back safe. Promise it’s not a ploy.” 

“Damn, it’s not?” You asked, tucking your purse on your arm and heading for the door. “Because I was going to ask you to come up to my room if it was.” 

“Well shit,” he said, catching up with you. “Maybe it is a ploy then.” 

You found yourselves drawing out the walk back all the same, pace more of an amble than a brisk walk, but the hotel was so close that it really only added a few minutes to your walk all the same. 

“Well,” you smiled at the door to the lobby. “This is me.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded once, looking inside for a moment before looking back at you. “Look… you don’t owe me anything, alright? I’m not the kind of guy who wants to force something. I can just head on back to my truck, no hard feelings…” 

“Well maybe none for you,” you teased a little. “But I might have some. Unless you really don’t want to fuck me.” 

“Oh, I want to,” he said. “Trust me on that…” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Been at the top of my list since you first walked in that place, baby, lemme tell you.” 

“Well then,” you jerked your head toward the door. “Why don’t we cross it off the list?” 

You took his hand in the elevator, his palm so broad, his fingers thick and long and callused in yours. You pressed your back against the wall and pulled him onto you so his hips were on yours and his nose brushed your own. His eyes ranged over your face, hungry and soft and open. 

“You sure about this?” He asked, looking down at the rest of your body for a moment before going back to your face. “Sure you don’t have something better to do than some old man?” 

“I’m sure,” you smiled at him, draping your arms over his shoulders. “Besides, I like old men. How old are you, anyway?” 

“Forty-five,” he said. “How old are you?” 

You snorted. 

“I’m not sure I should say,” you said, holding him a little closer all the same. “Since you’re all hung up on age…” 

“Not hung up on it,” he rolled his eyes. “Just… don’t need to be some youthful mistake is all. Wait, Jesus, please tell me you’re at least out of college, tell me you’re not a teenager…” 

You laughed. 

“No,” you shook your head. “Not a teenager. And I’ve been out of college a few years, I’m 25.” 

“God,” he closed his eyes and shook his head once, like he was trying to shake the idea of you loose. “Still, that’s… you’re…” 

You pressed your lips ever so slightly against his, more a quick brush than anything else, giving him every opportunity to pull back. 

He didn’t take it. 

Instead, he pressed his lips to yours, his hands going to your waist and tugging you tightly to his body while he pushed you back against the wall. Your arms got tighter to him and you opened your mouth, his tongue licking into you almost immediately. Joel didn’t need an engraved invitation, all he needed was a sign that you wanted him and fuck, you wanted him. More and more, each passing second, you wanted him. There was heat in you that was starting to flare so molten and hot that you pulled at his clothes, forgetting that you weren’t alone, not really. 

The elevator dinged and he all but sprang back from you, both of you panting for breath. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, looking you up and down, pupils blown. 

“C’mon,” you took his hand. “I’m down the hall.” 

You pulled him along behind you and fumbled to get your room key out of your bag. Joel’s wide, thick hands slipped around your waist as you did, tugging your ass back against his growing bulge and fuck, but he was huge. Thick and long and you knew his zipper had to be fucking killing him, cock that big and hard restrained by mere fabric and a slip of metal. His lips found the hinge of your jaw, your neck, down to your shoulder and you groaned a little as you clumsily forced the keycard in the door, the little beep the mechanism gave one of the best damn sounds you’d heard all night. 

The two of you practically fell into your hotel room. You dropped your purse on the first table inside the door and started stepping out of your heels as Joel turned you around to face him, manipulating your body to put you right where he wanted you and the fire in you sparked higher, brighter as he manhandled you. Every touch he gave was loaded with need, the air thick and heavy with it as he pawed at your clothes and skin, licking into your mouth at every opportunity, taking your chin firmly in his heady grip to tug you open further for him, all but forcing you to give him everything. 

You were as rough with his clothes as he was with your body, pulling so hard and fast at the buttons of his shirt that two popped free, pinging off the glass of the mass produced art that hung on the wall. 

“Shit,” you panted, looking around the dark of your room for the buttons. 

“Don’t give a fuck,” Joel replied, breathless, clutching you close and tight before you could pull away. “Didn’t really like this shirt, anyway.” 

You shoved it down and off as he tugged your dress down your body, leaving it in a pile on the floor before turning you so the backs of your legs were against the bed. He deftly unhooked your bra with one hand then, ripping the straps down your arms but almost reverently lowering the cups, panting for breath as he exposed your breasts to his gaze. Joel tossed your bra to the side before taking the soft weight of your tits in his hands, cupping them, brushing his thumbs over your hardening nipples as he looked down at you with a look of near awe on his face. You half expected him to shove you back down onto the bed after his race to get you undressed but instead, his arm went around your waist, his hand splaying wide over the smooth skin of your back and he pulled you tight against him, making you gasp. 

He moaned, deep and low, and dropped his head to your bared shoulder before trailing his nose over you to your neck, the wet heat of his breath on your skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn soft,” he groaned, almost pained, and pressed his lips to your throat, making your breath catch. You clung to the broad expanse of his back, fingertips pressing into him, trying to get at every inch of his skin that you could find. 

His mouth found yours and he gently, delicately, lowered you back onto the bed. He cradled your body against his own, keeping the firm line of him taut to you as he kissed you. Joel rested you on the mattress and you let your legs fall open so he could settle between your thighs, the heady weight of him pressing against your clit and making you moan. 

“You got a problem if I explore this pretty body of yours?” He asked, his lips still brushing yours when he spoke. “Because fuck, baby, seems like a sin to not touch every goddamn inch of you.” 

He rocked his thick, hard, still clothed cock against your core, as if to make his point, and took your responding moan as the yes it was. He trailed his lips slowly over your body, down your throat, your breast bone, your stomach, your navel. His nose brushed against you, his breath covering you in warm and needy pants. When he reached your underwear - the last thing still on your body - his fingers looped through the band before he paused, looking up at you over your stomach and between your breasts. 

“You still with me, pretty girl?” He asked, mouth so close to your skin that the wetness of his lower lip had caught on your stomach. “Still good with this?”

“Yes, Joel, please,” you were practically squirming. He was so close to precisely where you needed him it seemed like you might melt with the want of him. “Fuck, please…” 

“Fuck, you’re even prettier when you beg,” he said and started to pull your panties down over your hips. You lifted yourself up off the bed to help and it wasn’t long before you were naked below him. He knelt in front of you and took your knees in his hands, parting your thighs for him and groaning when he did. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed, so quiet you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it or if he’d meant to say it out loud at all. “Just… fuck.” 

He opened your legs enough to lay between them, settling with your thighs over his shoulders. His thumb traced a slow, tender path over your slit, brushing your clit and making you gasp when he did. 

“Swear you’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,” he said before he pressed his lips to your leaking hole. He moaned as he did and you couldn’t help but thrust against him once. He pulled back from you just a little, his nose barely touching your clit as he did. “Needy little pussy, too, huh?” 

Your fingers knotted in the bedspread and Joel’s mouth found your clit, softly sucking the sensitive nub between his teeth to tease with his tongue. You fought the urge to rock your hips against his face, trying to remember that this man was practically a stranger, not a lover whose tastes you knew intimately. But that was hard to remember as he worked his way lower, his tongue slipping inside of you with a deep groan. 

Joel ate you like you were a delicacy he longed to savor. He started slow, tasting and teasing you open, before delving deep like he couldn’t resist it, his thick tongue exploring and finding the soft and tender places inside you. His thumbs spread you open wide to him, his nose against your clit and you couldn’t stop yourself, you rolled your hips against him. He moaned into you and you forced your hips down on the bed, trying to clear your head enough to be still. 

“Sorry,” you panted. “I didn’t mean to do that, you’re just… really fucking good at that.” 

He stopped and pulled back from you enough to look up your body again, a frown on his face, your slick glistening on his beard in the light from the parking lot outside. 

“You think I don’t want you fucking my face?” He asked. “Fuck, baby, I want nothing more than for you to take exactly what you need. Want you to make yourself come on my face, you understand?” 

You swallowed and nodded. 

“What are you going to do?” He asked, voice almost stern. 

“Make myself come on your face?” You more asked than answered. 

“Better sound more sure than that,” he said, fingers moving to your clit. You gasped and moaned at the contact. “Come on baby, what are you going to do? Say it. Own it.” 

“Come on your face,” you panted. “Fuck, Joel… I’m going to come on your face, I’m going to make myself come on your face, please…” 

“Good,” he said, going back to eating your pussy. 

It was like he’d been holding back before but had nothing stopping him now. His tongue pressed deep, his nose nestled in your slit to nudge your clit, his arms looped over the thickness of your thighs to keep you open for him while also pressing the softness of you to the sides of his head. Your orgasm built quickly, the heat in you sinking to your core, everything inside you there going taut and tense. You were just on the edge of it, whimpering below his tongue and his touch when one hand left the warmth of your thigh and moved to your slit, his finger sliding inside you alongside his tongue. He pressed into the soft, tender place inside you that seemed to elude other men, finding it with an almost practiced ease and moaning when he did, sending the sparks of your climax shooting through you. 

He groaned, needy, as he ate you through it, not letting up, not even for a second until your orgasm had subsided and your head was swimming. 

“Fuck you feel amazing,” he pulled himself from you, sucking the finger that was inside you clean before wiping your slick from his beard while his other hand traced over the smooth softness of your inner thigh. “Should’ve asked this sooner but… please tell me you’ve got a damn condom. I wasn’t exactly lookin’ for this tonight, not until I saw you, so I’m not exactly prepared.” 

“I do,” you propped yourself up on your elbows, trying to remember where the hell you left your suitcase in the dark. You spotted it on the dresser, thankfully still mostly organized since you’d arrived that afternoon. You nodded to it. “Suitcase, top zipper pouch inside the lid.”

He got one, the crinkle of foil strangely loud in the silence of the room. 

“Here,” you sat up and reached for him as he came to stand between your legs at the edge of the bed. “Let me do it…” 

He gave you the packet and you opened it before palming the condom, holding it tight in one hand while slipping the other into the open zipper of his jeans and into his underwear to find his thick, heavy cock. 

You moaned as you wrapped your fingers around his length, hard as steel wrapped in silken skin, and you stroked him, just half way up his cock at first before going from root to tip. He was dripping there, his arousal making his head slick and wet. You brushed your thumb over his leaking tip, the smooth skin making your mouth water. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you leaned forward to lick him before taking just the very end of his cock between your lips. You suckled at him gently, lapping up his precome, Joel’s breaths getting heavier and faster as you did, before you took him into your mouth. He moaned as you sucked him, his hand going to the back of your head and holding you against him, your nose brushing against the base of his stomach. You took his head into your throat and moaned around him as you sucked him, making him hiss in pleasure, his grip on your skull tightening. 

“Fuck, woman,” he managed as you kept sucking him. “Gonna make me come if you keep doin’ that…” 

You pulled back from him slowly, his hold on you easing as you did, until he slipped from your mouth, still slick with your spit. 

“Should probably stop then,” you said, a little breathless. You took the condom - warm now from the heat of your hand - and put it over his head before rolling it over his thick shaft. You stroked him once, twice and leaned forward again, sucking his tip for a moment when it was in place and his head tipped back, staring at the ceiling as he groaned. 

“Jesus,” he panted. “Fuck, you gonna let me inside that soft little pussy of yours or make me come in your mouth?” 

You laughed once, needy and low, before pulling yourself backwards on the bed, Joel’s eyes hungry on your body as you went. He shucked his jeans and underwear off before crawling, finally naked, between your thighs. His head brushed against your sex and he took the base of his cock in his hand, trailing his tip up and down your dripping slit before spreading you open for him, your pussy swollen and tender as he did. He put his tip against your dripping entrance, pressed just the very end of him inside, barely opening you to him. His hands moved to your thighs, brushing over them to your knees before trailing back toward your center, his fingers splayed wide over you soft flesh. 

“You ready, baby?” He asked, needy. 

“Yes,” you breathed. You’d passed ready a long time ago. You were desperate now, aching and all but begging for him to take up every empty space inside your body. 

“Good,” he pressed forward until his head was fully inside your tight channel and you both moaned with it, one of your hands finding the smooth skin of your breast and squeezing it. He groaned at the sight as he started fucking just the tip of him into you, rocking in and out of you in short, sharp bursts. “Fuck, there you go baby. Just like that.” 

He started feeding you more of his cock then, driving further into you with each stroke until he fucked all the way into you, his hips flush to yours, his thick length stretching you open, the burn of him meshing with the heady pleasure of being so utterly full. 

“Goddamn,” he breathed, his cock buried inside you totally. “This pussy… fuck me.” 

One of his hands went from your thigh to over your hip coming to rest and the soft swell of the base of your stomach. He spread wide over your skin, his palm swallowing the space over where he was inside of you and pressing down, making you moan as the tight fullness inside you got more intense. His thumb stretched down toward your clit and he started working you there as he just held himself within you, making your cunt throb once around him. He groaned at the feeling. 

“That’s right,” he said. “So full of this cock ain’t you baby? Taking me so damn well…” 

He kept working your clit for a minute, not moving inside you, just pressing into your skin until you were practically writhing below his touch. He was so big, you were so full, the pleasure in your body so tight. It made your head spin. 

“Joel,” your fingers scratched at the blankets. “I need you to move, please, please, please…” 

“Please what, pretty girl?” His voice was dark, low. 

“Please fuck me,” you begged. “Please, please fuck me, please…” 

He drew back then, achingly slow at first, watching where his cock was pressing into you with a hungry look on his face, before thrusting back in, deep and firm. 

This, you thought, was why you liked fucking older men. Joel knew what he was doing. He worked your body with expert skill, grinding his cock deep inside so his head pressed against the most sensitive parts of you, the thick drag of him making your back arch and toes curl. He kept rubbing your clit with his thumb, the pressure and pace keeping your pleasure building and building but never quite cascading over the edge. 

He kept fucking into you that way until you were desperate, your whole being drawn tight and achy around his cock. He’d stopped watching where your bodies were joined and had moved to your face, his gaze drinking in your desperate little moans and the way your eyes would scrunch closed as you got so close to coming but didn’t quite make it, whimpering as your climax fell just out of reach yet again. 

“Got you so tight and needy, hm?” He said, breathless. You just nodded, trying to rock your hips up against him but held in place by his hand on your stomach. “Why don’t you tell me what you need? Tell me exactly what it is you need.” 

“To come,” you whimpered. “Fuck, I need to come, you need to let me come, please let me come…” 

“Think I’ve been keepin’ you on the edge too long?” He asked. “Think I should let this little pussy come? Let her just milk me dry?” 

“Fuck, please,” you begged, not caring if you sounded pathetic. It’s not like you’d see this man again after tonight, anyway. 

He took his thumb off your clit but before you had a chance to whimper in protest, he adjusted your legs to drive somehow deeper and leaned over you, pressing his bare skin to yours before kissing your neck, sucking and licking at the tender skin there as he fucked into you, making you whimper, your nails scrabbling over his back. His lips moved from your neck to your ear, his large hand coming to cup the crown of your head, his pace never relenting. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, low and needy. “You can come, want you to come, want to feel you come. Just let go for me, just give in to me.” 

His hips rocked against your clit, his cock buried so deep and you saw stars for a moment before you cried out, your orgasm hitting you hard after being on the edge of it for so long. It broke your whole body down, muscle clenching desperately, blood rushing, fingers clinging. You felt it everywhere, starting at your core and radiating out in hot, aching waves. 

“Goddamn, that’s it,” he fucked you through it as your core fluttered over him. “Just keep comin’ for me, just like that, feeling so damn good baby just…” 

He pressed deep as your orgasm started to fade and moaned, the sound going straight to your raw, fucked out cunt. The pulsing of his cock, in you to the root, rolled you into another orgasm, this one less intense but still making your pussy grip him close and tight as he spilled into the condom. 

He collapsed on you for a moment as both of your climaxes eased, his chest heaving. Before his weight became too much, he adjusted, rising up enough to kiss you as he slid his softening cock from your body and falling flat on his back on the bed beside you. 

“Damn,” you panted after a moment, staring up at the ceiling. 

He laughed lightly beside you. 

“Know the feelin’.” 

You lay there next to each other, listening to each other as your breaths came back into a normal, steady cadence. Goosebumps started to pebble over your skin, the air cold as you were naked without his body on yours, the air conditioner below the window humming along. 

You turned your head to look at him and he did the same. 

“Should probably go…” his voice trailed off but he sounded reluctant. Or maybe you just hoped he did.  

“You don’t have to,” you said, probably a little too quickly for a man you’d just met. Even in the dim light of the moon and the parking lot lights out your window, you could tell he raised his eyebrows. “I’m just… you can stay, if you want. It’s a big bed. Think we can manage it.” 

“Wouldn’t want to impose…” 

“You’re not,” you said. “You can leave, too, if you’d rather but… don’t feel like you have to rush out.” 

He smiled a little. 

“Then I’ll stay. I’d like to stay.” 

You smiled back, that blissed out and relaxed feeling you had after you came settling over you.

“Good.” 

The two of you settled far across the bed from each other at first but drifted quickly, until your head was on his chest and you were curved around his side as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers trailing up and down your arm until you fell asleep. 

He was somehow even more beautiful in the light of day. 

You realized it as the two of you went about the strange intimacy of getting ready for the day side by side with someone you didn’t know. He blinked sleep from his eyes when first woke up and stretched his back before getting out of bed, his curls haphazard and messy and his body soft and warm. He got dressed and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. You offered him your travel toothbrush as you got dressed and he watched you pull on your jeans as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe. 

“Been a while since I’ve done this,” he said, a little hesitant. 

“Just how long?” You asked, teasing as you pulled on your shirt. 

“Longer than I want to admit,” he said, small smile making his cheek dimple. “Long enough that I don’t remember exactly how this is supposed to work but… I’d like to take you to breakfast. If you want.” 

You smiled. 

“Sure,” you said. “I’d like that.” 

Joel walked back to the bar and picked up his truck before taking you to a diner not too far from your hotel. You laughed with him about menu typos and the questionable song choices coming from the speakers over greasy eggs and toast soaked in butter. 

“Know we just met,” he said as you were on your fourth cup of coffee and you were both avoiding the fact that you’d have to leave this table and go your separate ways soon. The remains of your hashbrowns had long gone cold, ketchup smeared across the plate and you weren’t ready to say goodbye to him yet. “And that you’re in town for some family thing but… if you’re not busy tonight, would you want to come with me to this party? Buddy of mine is throwin’ in, supposed to be nice. Think he gave me a plus one in hopes I’d actually use it.” 

“Damn,” you winced a bit. “I really wish I could but the thing I’m in town for is tonight.” 

“Damn’s right,” he smiled a little. “Think you’d be my best shot for a good time at that thing.” 

“Yeah, back at you for my thing,” you laughed.

“Here,” he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it before handing it over. “Put your number in. Maybe we could still get together later…” 

You took it but hesitated, thumb tapping on the side of his phone case. 

He frowned.

“What?” 

“I live hours away,” you said. “Is this really smart?” 

He shrugged. 

“Don’t really care if it’s smart or not. Just want to see you again. If you’ll let me.” 

You smiled a little and shook your head before putting your number in his phone. 

“There,” you said, handing it back over. “Let me know when you’re done with your thing. I can think of a few more ways to get some good use out of my hotel room.” 

Two more cups of coffee later, Joel dropped you off at your hotel. You kissed him goodbye in the cabin of his truck, moaning against his mouth before pulling away. 

“Alright, go before I come back in with you,” he said playfully, reaching across you to open your door.

You laughed. 

“Don’t tempt me,” you got out and paused before closing your door, taking one last chance to look him over. “If we don’t see each other again… It was good meeting you.” 

“Good meeting you, too,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ll see you again.” 

You went inside, looking back over your shoulder once you were in the lobby, Joel’s truck still sitting near the doors as he waited to make sure you were safely inside. 

There was an odd sense of loss in you as you got ready for your parents’ big anniversary party. You hadn’t expected to meet anyone when on your trip back to your hometown, let alone someone you liked so much. You’d been single for a while, doing things alone didn’t really bother you. But now, you felt this tug of desire to have him getting ready beside you where you could help him with his tie and he could zip you into your dress. 

But that was stupid. You knew it was stupid. Your job had taken you to Memphis and you liked it there. You weren’t in a rush to move back to your hometown. And Joel had a business here. It wasn’t going to happen. It’d be a lot easier in the long run if you just accepted that now. 

You showed up early to the party, your older sister wanting help to get things set up in the tents outside. 

“Who all is coming to this shindig anyway?” You asked as you put pictures of your parents out around a guest book near the entrance of the tent. 

“Oh, you know,” your sister waved you off. 

“Not really,” you said. She gave you a look. “What! I haven’t been home for a family party in… well, it’s been a minute.” 

“Yeah, and I’ve been the one doing all the work to help with those for a while,” she said. 

“And you’re definitely not bitter about that…” 

“Not one bit,” she teased. “But the usual people. The closest neighbors, the aunts and uncles, Mom’s book club, church people, Dad’s friends…” 

“Dad has friends?” You gaped at her. “Since when?” 

“He’s had friends for years!” 

“OK, he’s never had friends,” you said. “Where is he finding friends? Shit’s unnatural…” 

“Don’t let them catch you saying shit,” she said. “And there are a few from work, one from this basketball league he joined…” 

“Ew,” you crinkled your nose. Your sister laughed. 

“Definitely not ew,” she said. “At least not the basketball friend one, he’s weirdly hot, it’s disturbing…” 

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there?” You teased. 

“You’ll eat those words when you meet the guy,” she said. “Just wait.” 

“Whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes, skeptical. You and your sister had never had the same taste in men, you didn’t see any reason for that to have changed. 

But still, you were keeping an eye out for this mysterious hot friend of your father’s as people started to arrive for the party. Or trying to, anyway. You kept getting pulled away by distant relatives you hadn’t seen since your cousin’s wedding or to do a favor for your mom as she frantically rushed around trying to take care of everyone while also trying to have fun at the party that was being thrown in her honor. 

Everything was in full swing when you heard your father call your name from across the large, increasingly full tent. He waved you over, leaning around a man he was talking to, and you worked your way around the dance floor, trying not to think about how much you’d like to have a date at this damn thing - how much you’d like to have Joel as your date at this damn thing - when you froze beside your dad. The man standing next to him was devastatingly familiar, even from behind. Tallest man in the room, broad shoulders, thick curls. Your heart beat faster. 

“Hey honey,” your dad said, tugging you closer. “Want you to meet my friend. Joel, this is my youngest that I’ve told you so much about.” 

He turned around, a beer bottle in his hand a smile on his face that fell the moment he saw you. Your dad was saying something else but you didn’t hear it, too busy staring at the man who had been inside you less than 24 hours earlier. 

The man who had you thinking about what life alongside another person would be like. 

The man who was apparently your father’s friend. 

“Hi,” he said after your dad had stopped talking. You hadn’t noticed. 

“Hi,” you said, still staring at him. 

Fuck, you were in trouble. 

A/N: Here's whatever this is. He's unhinged, I don't know what's happening to the Joels who live in my head lately but they're just going crazy up there. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #dbf!joel x reader

[pupcuck]

NYMPHOMANIA !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. daddy-daughter incest, femcel reader :3, reader wants to get raped so she talks about that, dub-con for like a paragraph, suicidal thoughts, awful thoughts in general, tiny bit of somno, threats, spanking, slapping

note. HAII :3 back on my femcel shit… god i rewrote this like 15 times and restarted over and over so i hate this 😭 it’s clunky so ignore any mistakes!!! feedback n rbs always so appreciated <3 was thinking of og4 leon but.. honestly idk atp !! anyway sorry again for the slow decrease in quality in this .. title has nothing to do w the fic ack ok bye :3

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

There are two things you want to get off your chest.

You are not, under any circumstances, ugly. Your face just takes getting used to. (This is a cope.)

You have a crush on your dad. No excuse for this one. Cupid is a conniving bastard. That’s that.

These might not seem like related issues, but they most certainly are because being ugly is hard, and having a crush on your dad is equally as hard.

You’re a sweet girl, you didn’t choose to come out ugly, it’s not your fault you turned out this way. It’s unfair, but ultimately no one meant for it to happen

(Well, you hope no one meant for it to happen unless someone had a vendetta against your mother and cursed her firstborn. She’s an irritating lady, you can see why someone would do so.)

You won’t even be the kind of below-average woman who marries a mediocre man to have mediocre sex to make mediocre kids to live in caustic mediocrity. You have one friend, she’s an online friend, and she might be a lonely old man. To be entirely honest you would prefer that. ‘Cause that would mean someone out there wants to creep on you.

If you weren’t ugly, having a crush on your dad would be socially acceptable. That’s why daddy-daughter porn spans pages and pages and pages of Pornhub. Everyone loves to watch a busty, blonde slut on her dad’s dick. If you didn’t have a crush on your dad, being ugly would be perfectly fine— No, that’s wrong.

Being ugly is never fine. Being ugly is on the same level as being a rapist. Being ugly in the presence of people who are objectively not ugly is, like, worse than being a rapist. ‘Cause all the dudes in high school were rapists in the making. Ted Bundy-style shit.

Grope an ugly bitch in the bathrooms and she wouldn’t speak up, and if she did— She just wouldn’t actually. Would be burnt at the stake Salem style. Hung. Crucifixion perhaps. Ugly girls aren’t good enough to die like martyrs did, however. Especially not ugly girls who cry wolf.

Why on God’s green earth would a hot guy go out of his way to slap a freaky-looking girl’s ass, right? Got girls lined up down the halls waiting for him to sign their perky tits, he doesn’t need to rape. It must be wishful thinking on her part, right? A wet dream she took as reality.

Why would you say that? Do you want to throw what he’s worked for down the drain? Accusations like this, they’re not jokes, y’know that? He’s got a scholarship, college wouldn’t take something like this so lightly.

Aw, you miss her. This goth chick in senior year. Your sorta friend. When it all went down and she had nowhere else to go, you invited her over because you’re a nice girl with no nefarious intentions. None at all. When she lay beside you at night, and she opened up, and she thanked you for believing her, you totally did not have your hand in your panties. And you totally did not rub yourself raw while she spoke about it in excruciating detail. You did not treat her rape case as erotica.

The dude got away with it of course. He was on TV the other day in fact. NFL. Baltimore Ravens. Still stupid hot. God, you wish it was you he picked - wouldn’t have told a single soul. Would’ve sucked the sweat from his jockstrap without complaint.

You’re too repulsive to be touched or raped, and you’ve learnt to live with that. Passing out in alleyways would result in rapists who frequent the area to avoid those very alleyways. Only your hand knows the cushiony softness of your tits, the wetness between your legs, how great your mouth feels— Only your dildo knows that, but you can imagine it’s good. You’re a total catch. A nympho. Men love nymphos when they’re pretty, which you are not. So you’re a nympho without the sex appeal. So in other words you are a pervert. A degenerate. A fucking freak.

It’s time to start sticking your fingers down your throat. ‘Cause that’s what gorgeous girls do to achieve that grave-robbed look. Heroin chic. Modelesque. It’s all the same type of beautiful. Emaciated and sickly. Dead girls are the sexiest ‘cause they can’t say yes or no and if there’s no no then it’s a yes. A nymphetic loophole of sorts. Men love dead girls that double as nymphos. Unfortunately, you are well and alive. Walking into traffic seems like fun, but you would be classed as roadkill, and it wouldn’t be tragically beautiful, just embarrassing to get scraped off the concrete like that. Even in death, you would be ugly because you are ugly to your very core. Your bone marrow is so ugly no scientist would want to make stem cells out of it, polynucleotides so deformed— You’re ugly. No need to wax poetic about it. Nothing poetic about being ugly.

Dad is the closest a human being can get to perfection. A divine image. Michelangelo is, like, dead and gone. David should've died alongside him. Dad deserves to take his place in the Accademia Gallery. With the way people gawk at him, he might as well be art. You’re surprised he doesn’t sell tickets to merely exist in his presence. He’s hot like a Calvin Klein model, and mom is hot like a regular model. Due to how you’ve turned out, you have a few qualms with your mother.

Like, what the fuck happened to you in her womb? Did someone take a mallet to one side of her belly to ensure her child came out as asymmetrical as one can be? A lack of nutrients maybe? Was she dieting during the pregnancy? Did dad fuck her too hard? Busted her womb up or some shit.

It simply might be that two rights make a wrong.

Or you were a tester before she popped your siblings out. Little ichor-filled putto. They were child models, scouted in their diapers, and you would stand behind your mother and the cameraman so hurt you couldn’t even feel jealous. Now they’re all grown up, fully-fledged erotes, and they’re working and doing all this shit you still haven’t managed to get a grasp on. Navigating the world as an ugly bitch is terribly hard.

Rape kinks are developed, dads get crushed on - awful, terrible things happen when girls are ugly and alone and unable to leave the comfort of their bedrooms.

Pretty girls have daddy issues that are dealt with in standard pretty girl fashion - finding emotionally unavailable, salt-and-pepper-haired men to fill every hole, including the one in their doll hearts. The thing is pretty girls don’t go for their dads. ‘Cause a lot of the time dads are gross. Dads do not look like your dad does. And to be fair you don’t exactly have daddy issues. Your dad is present and he doesn’t hit or shout or do anything out of the norm. Maybe this is a you issue.

It is a you issue, not even an ugly girl issue or an any type of girl issue. It’s your issue and yours alone.

It is your issue that when Leon asks what you want for dinner you almost ask for his hand around your throat or his hand in marriage. Either would be fine. Both would be preferred.

Severing your relationship would be even better. Goddamn, girls with absent fathers are lucky. You wish he was anything but your dad— It’s just that if you weren’t his daughter, dad wouldn’t ever look your way, he would pass by you like every man does.

Dad is a busy guy, and he’s a strange guy in the sense that he’s never really bothered with you. He loves your sister, and he loves your brother. But everyone loves those two. You don’t think he likes you very much, you can deal with that. Doesn’t mean you have daddy issues ‘cause no one likes you very much. So it’s a you issue and you should try harder.

Leon’s home early today. He’s collapsed on the couch, withered into himself like he always is after business trips. Mom said not to disturb him. You don’t. Then you do. This is like crack to you. Dad.

More specifically, dad without mom hovering over him. Dad’s sleeping so your brain is not stewed by his intense gaze. It only ever lingers on you for merely a second, but your stomach flips like you’ve got appendicitis and your legs spread involuntarily.

He’s a light sleeper, you’re well aware. He’s also a living, breathing Ken doll so you don’t put much thought into it when you reach out to ghost your fingers along the bridge of his nose. So pointy it could pierce your clit. Your clit. His nose. Oh, it could work so well, you want to grind yourself to mush against it.

Until dad shifts, he’s so beautiful up close you almost forget he’s real, not a wax figure. You trace the straight edge of his jaw, then thumb his petal lips, dragging your pointer finger over the fuller bottom one to push the tip into his wet mouth. Your dad is a slut. ‘Cause he sucks for a good second or two. Heat licks at your insides. You might vomit. His spit glistens like cobwebs when you take it back. That hand is shoved down your pants. That finger finds your clit, uses what spit is left to get it nice and wet. Which is totally unneeded, you’ve been soaked since god knows when, your pussy doesn’t know when to quit.

Feels good knowing that a part of dad is in you, his spit pushed into your hole. You’ll give him something back, it’s only fair, you smear your slick on the spot you traced. His tongue pokes out, likely to combat dry mouth, it swipes along his bottom lip— He tastes you. Heat engulfs you, chars your body from the inside out, the scent of rotting meat is in your nostrils.

Dad tasted you.

Holy fuck. You sit there with a trembling smile, staring down at him and he does not rouse. Shit, you’re creepy and you know it, but you’re not stupid. What other chance do you have? You unzip his old shearling jacket, underneath is that compression shirt that fits him too well. You map out the ridges of his abs, the slight dip between his pecs, every hard line that makes up his body. He smells so sexy, lavender and leather, must be some sorta pheromone ‘cause all you want to do is drop your face into his tits to bathe in that scent, to have it stick to your skin. Shit. Holy fucking shit. You’ve got a sex doll instead of a dad. That explains the distantness. He’s made of silicone.

The door clicks the moment you find it in yourself to click open his belt.

“What're you doing?” Mom ruins everything. She’s had it out for you the moment you formed in her womb. “He’s sleeping, don’t disturb him.” She says tersely, placing her Coach Tabby on the coffee table.

“He was cold.” That’s why his nipples are peaking, piercing the fabric of that shirt. Should be illegal to wear that in public. He’s asking for it.

“Yeah?” She asks, unconvinced, bending down to unclasp her heels.

“Yeah.” You stand up, dad’s indirect kiss on your cunt, shoot her a nasty sneer before you scuttle away to your bedroom for the rest of the day.

There are stairs that creak and stairs that don’t. You hang around down here at midnight often so you know the right path to take as to not alert your parents of your presence. They’re speaking about you.

“—be careful around her.” Truly, you hate your mother.

“What is there to be careful about?” Right? You tell her dad.

“Just, just be careful. She doesn’t y’know.”

“She doesn’t what?”

“She doesn’t get off her ass, she doesn’t talk to anyone but, well, I don’t know actually, she doesn’t talk to anyone at all.” You could pretend and say it hurts, but it doesn’t. There’s nothing insulting about the truth.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“You’re a guy, she doesn't talk to guys.”

“We don’t talk much either.” Dad is too stiff to make conversation, and you collapse anytime he breathes in your general direction.

“Yeah, but, Leon.” Mom sounds exasperated, but she’s not getting her point across well. She should know better, dad’s skull is thicker than cement. “I’m worried.”

“What, for me or her?”

“Her, obviously, I don’t want her to… I want her to get out, like, I want her to do stuff,” mom sniffles, she is so putting this on to make dad feel guilty. “It’s so hard to watch your adult daughter just sit in a room and do nothing all day, Leon, she’s like a big fucking baby, why is she like that?”

“Babe,” he coos, and your knees buckle.

“Go talk to her.”

“What?”

“Go talk to her about it,” Mom repeats, voice shaking. “She doesn’t listen to me.”

They go back and forth for a few minutes, and then dad sighs and says fine. You make haste back to your hovel that doubles as a bedroom, crawl into bed and try to look natural.

Leon clears his throat before he knocks, when you don’t answer he pokes his head in. He says your name and you stir, sheets taut to your body as you peek up at him.

“You should open a window in here.”

When you don’t respond, he sits at the foot of your bed, looks around and nods. His gaze is scathing. Not purposefully. You just take it that way.

“Dinner’s ready,” he lies, then he leaves. His perfume lingers, and you touch the space he was sitting in, his warmth remains.

The day after that, you’re in the living room, tuckered out after mom forced you to help her with the groceries. You’re not cut out for this sort of life. The living sort of life. You were made to rot.

“Door wasn’t locked,” Leon says when he steps in, he puts his keys down, shucks his jacket off, tracks mud halfway down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Your shoes, Leon,” Mom groans, “she came in last.”

“Oh, sorry,” you say absentmindedly. If it doesn’t include tits or dicks or pussy it is none of your business. You have enough energy to keep up with one thing and that is your porn addiction. Groceries really took it out of you.

“You should be careful, rapists might come in, murderers or some shit.” Leon is speaking to your mother. Not you because he has seen your face and he knows very well that an ugly girl like you would survive out of sheer ugliness.

Mom snorts, “I think you’re the scariest thing that could walk through that door, honey.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You’d like to know what that means too. Well, you get the gist, ‘cause you’ve heard all those stories. Dad and his wandering hands.

“You know what that means.” The sound of lips smacking is enough to have you feeling sick, dizzy as you cling to the walls and make your escape. “Did she leave— Quit it, Leon— Hands off, can you go talk to her, please? Properly this time.”

He forgets to knock this time, or he can’t bother to knock. Dad sits in that same spot, he opens his mouth and closes it about five times.

“Mom’s worried about you,” Leon says robotically. “You good?”

“I’m great.” Your tone is unconvincing, but he clearly doesn’t care enough because you're his dirty little secret. Not in a sex way. You would do anything for it to be in the sex way. Dirty little secret as in the ugly kid he chooses to ignore purely because you’re ugly. Dad doesn’t like ugly girls, you know that. He doesn’t think they’re worth a second glance, even a first glance is too much. Dad is superficial and his love is plastic.

These are all things you’re making up in your head based on assumptions. This is how all attractive men think. Ugly girls aren’t worth rape, dirtying your dick in ugly pussy sounds like a hassle. If you were pretty, you wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy. Even as a self-proclaimed ugly girl, you still wouldn’t fuck an ugly guy ‘cause they’re gross, and it’s not like they want you. Ugly guys shoot high and aim for pretty girls. Duh.

So you get it. Honestly. Whatever. Dad doesn’t like you. That’s okay, you don’t like him as a dad anyway. You love him like an obsessive lover. A hallway crush that stars in your late-night rape fantasies. And you’re fine like this. You’re so fine.

“Can I… Can I actually have a hug, dad?” You muster up what is left in your hollow heart to ask him that. It’s a big deal.

Leon blinks at you, levels you with his blank stare. He’s so handsome you want to blow your brains out, it’s an easy feat because you’re always looking for reasons to blow your brains out. Every straw is your last and yet you’re still here.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Dad opens his arms, and you crawl towards him, head on his shoulder as his arms loop around your waist. Oh, god, you will your heart into giving out. Dying right here in dad’s arms is ideal.

He holds you so gently it’s brutal. He crushes you with the weight of his loveless love. Dad’s so good at pretending you almost think he cares.

“Can you… I want to stay like this.”

“Uh, sure, sweetheart,” Leon calls everyone sweetheart. Sweetheart is his default. Sweetheart ranges from Auntie Ashley to babysitters to lifeguards and retail workers who aren’t getting paid enough to deal with some old man making eyes at them. Not that anyone minds dad’s attention. It’s fucking unfair. Mom is babe, and your sister is baby, and your brother is buddy or sport or tiger or whatever shit he pulls out of his ass. And you’re sweetheart because you’re not important to him. His firstborn daughter is not important to him ‘cause she’s ugly. More of a specimen than a human.

You would do anything to keep him here.

“Dad?” You whisper into his neck.

“…Yeah?”

“I want you to…” Your lack of life flashes in front of your eyes. Bedroom. Bedroom. Porn. Bedroom. Porn. Porn. Dad. Not much. What have you got to lose? “I want to— I want to fuck you.”

Dad is silent. Then: “Oh.” He never makes the move to pull away, so you sit snugly in his grip for a few seconds longer.

“I— Dad, I touch myself thinkin’ about you.” Your stomach ties itself into a Gordian knot.

“Yeah, okay, why don’t we— Yeah, fuck, I see what she meant, okay. Wow, that’s a lot. Sweetheart, why… Listen.” Dad says a whole lot of nothing as he takes your hands off him.

“Please… I love you, dad. I really like you— I know it’s weird, dad, I do, seriously, I know, but please I just… I just like you.” There is no explanation for it. “Dad… Daddy.”

He full-on winces. It’s like you’re being flayed. Something inside of you just— Just shatters. Not your heart ‘cause it’s pumping more blood than it ever has. Fragments of your sanity splinter into even smaller segments until there is nothing left but nauseating levels of mental disturbance.

“If you don’t…”

“You seriously trying that right now?” Leon scoffs, and he’s so cocky you get hot under the collar.

(Between your thighs too, but that’s a different story.)

“Yeah, I’m serious— If you don’t… If you don’t do it- do it with me, I’ll tell mom you… I’ll tell her you raped me.” In actuality, you would never tell mom if daddy raped you. You would treasure it, keep it in a heart-shaped locket and think about it when you get off twelve times a day. Getting your pussy reamed by dad’s cock would fix you right up.

“Don’t— Are you okay?” Leon smacks your hand away, his tone is even.

“You do it too— I know you’ve done it, I know how you and mom met.”

His face drains, pallor yellowish. “That don’t… That’s different.”

“How is that any different?” Different ‘cause he’s hot and mom is hot. Leon passed it off as a drunken mistake and they end up getting together. It’s not rape if the perpetrator is a hottie. You agree, but still— It’s not fucking fair.

“‘Cause I didn’t do this.” Leon gestures abstractly.

You kiss him, hands braced on each of his tits, digging your fingers into the meat to feel him tense and harden like he’s wearing a chest plate. “You’re so hot dad,” you whine into his mouth, and Leon is quick to push you off, your wrists in his hands. Makeshift handcuffs.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Dad is using his dad voice. It’s like porn to you, only makes you wetter. “I don’t like hitting girls, but you’re givin’ me a damn good reason.”

“You can hit me, daddy.” You offer your face to him, stretching your neck forward, closing your eyes as you wait for the impact. It lands firm on your cheek, his fingertips catching the tip of your nose. Fuck that felt good. Shit. You think you’ve creamed your panties. “Again, dad, hit me again—“ He does. Harder than the last time. Your head knocks backwards, and your brain must have a dent in it.

Dad puts you over his lap and you’re so sure you’ve entered the pearly gates. Or the innermost circle of hell. Probably that ‘cause Jesus Christ are you steaming.

“I hate stupid little sluts that try it out on me,” Leon drags your sweats over the swell of your ass, “Do you have a dick?”

“What, dad— No!” You tell him, more mortified at his question than you are by your bare ass under his palm. Fuck— You’re so wet it’s disgusting, dripping down your thighs and surely staining his lap. Thick like treacle.

“No? Were you gonna rape dad with this stupid cunt?” Oh, you hope he spanks your pussy. Porn makes it look delicious. “You look like you might have a dick with that face of yours.” He traces the seam of your cunt through your panties. “Or is your pussy just fat?”

Good fucking lord.

“Dad…” You arch into him, only to have a hand come down on your left ass cheek. One. Two. Three. They all hurt bad as each other. Four. “Ouch!” That one hurt real bad. Five. You feel like a naughty child. This is not as hot as you thought it would be. More dull and embarrassing. Not even the good kind of embarrassing.

Leon puts you on your knees, the hand wrapped around your jaw forces your lips into a pout, and you think he is going to kiss you— God, you close your eyes and wait for it, lean into him, shit you’d pop your leg if you were standing up. He spits in your face and it trickles down the bridge of your nose.

“Got me dirty with that filthy pussy.” Dad speaks offhandedly, he speaks to you like you’re dog shit. Not dog shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Just dog shit on the side of the road. Like the sort that bothers you enough to complain about it, but it doesn’t ignite any real anger.

His hand remains tight on your jaw, then he drops it to fish his fat cock from his pants to slap the drippy head on your cheek. The sound ricochets off the walls. Hits you like a bullet. Holy fuck. Dad really just did that. You giggle, batting your lashes up at him as pretty as an ugly girl can, and he grimaces so it can’t be pretty.

“Christ, you nasty fuck,” Leon snickers at the look on your face, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, nosing the tip of his dick, he smells so good you want him in your mouth, “I jus’ love you lots.”

“God, I hate ugly little freaks like you.” He said that already, no need to rub it in. Another slap of his cock on your face. Your heart beats for him and him alone. “You know what I think?” Dad guides his cock into your warm mouth. “Shit, that’s good— I think your mom is a liar.”

His dick is all you’ve ever wanted. It’s heavy on your tongue, though the longer you suckle on the tip, the weightier it gets, and he’s wet. Dripping all over the place. You must get that gene from your dad.

“‘Cause I don’t think,” he grunts, palm resting on your forehead to push you off his shaft, “I don’t think I could make a kid this ugly.”

“No,” you say breathlessly, “No, you’re my dad, my daddy.” Crouched down below him, you lave over his balls, putting more effort into this than you have done with anything else in your life. Gargling dad’s balls is your best work. Nothing else you have to be proud of.

Your pussy is pulsing, shit has its own heartbeat, you drop your hand down to soothe your poor cunt, rubbing figure eights into the bulge of your clit over your panties. It’s not enough, you push them to the side, your fingers slip a couple times, not enough, only dad’s fingers are enough, only his cock will plug up your leaking hole.

“Get off me,” dad instructs, and you might be glued to him, but you detach yourself immediately. “C’mon, stand up.” You use his thighs as leverage, standing on shaky legs that threaten to give out at any second. He takes your shirt off. “Cute tits gone to waste,” dad sighs like it’s heartbreaking. “We could've done something about it, y’know? Could fix your face right up, just had to ask daddy.”

“Really, dad? I want to be pretty, daddy, I want to be pretty for you, you never call me pretty— Daddy, I want to be pretty, please.” You clasp his shirt, and he brings you into his lap once more, raising your legs to slide your panties down so you’re free bleeding on his lap. Free bleeding without the blood. Just good old pussy.

“Messin’ with you, sweetheart, can’t fix that dog face,” dad coos to you tenderly, and the plain-as-day insult flies right over you. Dad could get you to sell both your kidneys if he keeps talking to you like that. “Just gotta live with it.”

You have. You have lived with it. That’s what you do. Live with your ugly face. You could die, that’s an option, but you choose to wait it out. ‘Cause dying is pretty scary no matter how much you want it. And Leon’s dick is hard beneath your pussy so there are things to live for. The world isn’t all cruel.

“Up,” he taps your lower back, you raise your hips and he presses his cock to your stretched hole. Toy after toy after toy. All to ready yourself for dad. When you sink down on him, your body convulses. It’s the sweet release of death. Or an orgasm. Fuck. Dying on dad’s cock is— You haven’t died on his dick, he fucks you through your high, feet planted firmly on the ground as he thrusts upwards, dick angled just right.

Heroin is meant to be good. You’ve seen Trainspotting. Better than any cock— You don’t believe that for a minute. Unless he’s leaking smack straight into your pussy, numbing your walls. Could be that ‘cause god— You’re not really thinking, not that you think much, when you decide to shove your fingers into his mouth.

“Daddy, can you taste me?” You ask him, giving a languid grind of your hips down onto his cock, you regret it immediately ‘cause it’s so good your cunt squelches loudly. “Do you taste me, dad? Dad—“

“Yeah,” Dad says, muffled, “Shoving your fingers down my fuckin’ throat, you little psycho, ‘course I taste it.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Daddy looks so pretty with his lips wrapped around your fingers, you fuck them in and out of his pink mouth, his tongue runs along the length of your fingers like he’s sucking a nice cock. Treating your fingers better than you did his dick.

Daddy’s splitting you in two. He fucks you without a care in the world. ‘Cause he doesn’t care about you. One-time-use pussy. You’re disposable like the gloves you get with box dye. Like a plastic spork. His cock is so deep he might as well tear open your middle and fuck your guts. Leon grabs your hips, forces you up and drops you down. The air in your lungs has no time to build up— You grasp at his shirt, bouncing in his lap like you’re a fleshlight, and you would be so happy with that title. Dad’s personal fleshlight. It makes you giddy.

Leon’s cock twitches inside of you, when he lifts you off of him, your pussy clings to the tip, holding on for dear life, insistent on milking daddy’s dick, taking every drop of his cum.

“Daddy…” Your head drops to his shoulder. “Please, daddy, am I pretty? Can you call me pretty?”

His hips stutter, and you don’t have to see his face to know he hesitates. It’s a struggle to call a girl like you pretty. “You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” Then he dumps his load so deep— So deep, you warm to the thought of having your daddy’s baby. You already fucked so why not go the extra mile?

Dad doesn’t kiss you, but he lays you down and tucks you in like he never has before. “Your mom’s worried.” He goes back to the topic at hand and you groan, covering your face with a pillow. “Hey, we can, uh…” Leon scratches his head. “We can y’know…” He shrugs, glances down at you. “Can do that if you try pulling your weight a little.”

The promise of your dad’s cock is enough to have you applying for every job in a thirty-mile radius. Dad’s cock is a fix for an ugly girl like you. You’ve got a pussy only your daddy could love, and you think you’re more than okay with that.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Frances Dee (Becky Sharpe, Little Women)—no propaganda submitted

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Frances Dee:

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is. [editor's note: I've seen all of these movies and I think they're fine, but it's been a minute, so I can't thoroughly tag for trigger warnings or officially "recommend"—as always, go forth with caution when a movie is mentioned in a propaganda submission, and don't take a mention as an official recommendation of this blog.]

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

#ingrid bergman #frances dee #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman

[yujinslovr]

DAY 9 : gp!yujin x fem!reader

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

CW: anal, oral, degradation, humiliation, edging, lmk if theres anything else!

word count: 2,738

a/n: proofread at 3am, i'm half asleep so pls forgive any mistakes😞😞😞

you knew what she had brought you here for, it was for the same reason all the other old businessmen at this event had brought their young beautiful wifes. it wasn't a new occurrence to you, yujin would often bring you to these kinds of events. you only had one job, and that was to sit still and look pretty. she would bring you along with her because she knew that you looked better than any of her business partners girls. the hard gazes you received from the older men you were surrounded by was proof of that if anything. it was the biggest ego boost for yujin, to know that all of these taken men were in envy of her for having someone like you.

many would hate it, being objectified in this way, and maybe if you were someone else you would’ve. she only kept you with her, her arm tight around your waist to show you off to the other people there, to boast that not only was she young, rich, and pretty, but she also had an insanely beautiful wife. and honestly, you didn't mind it one bit.

you had met yujin in college where she was studying business and you art. you had dreams of being an actress but your parents wouldn't leave you alone unless you graduated from college. you had always liked art, ever since you were young so you figured why not go into that. you and yujin’s love story had been one like the movies. yujin was always going to take over her millionaire fathers business and had been training for it since she was young while you were more of a free spirit. yujin more than excelled in what she did and was the definition of a prodigy, her getting her fathers business was never even a question. you bumped into her in a coffee shop and the rest was history. you quit your dream of becoming an actress since yujin said ‘she wanted your beauty all to herself’ and now here you were, living your best life with the best wife ever. you knew yujin enough to know that she saw you as more than just arm candy for her, so you didnt mind acting like that's all you were every once in a while for her.

yujin had always worn suits to these kinds of events, and you always a dress to match her suit. you didnt know what it was, but in this suit yujin just looked too fucking good. her biceps were protruding out of the navy blue dress shirt she had on, her suit jacket set off to the side. not only was her insanely hot physique being shown, but her bulge seemed to have multiplied in size. your eyes just couldn't seem to leave the very noticeable bulge in her pants. 

you two were sat at a table, her conversing with the man in front of both of you, their wifes at their sides just like you with yujin. you were making small talk with the ladies in front of you, your hand under the table seeming to have a mind of its own first rested itself on yujin’s thigh. she didn't think anything of it at first, knowing that you were someone who always liked to have physical contact. but then your hand started slowly going upwards, not stopping with your conversation for even a second. when your hand came to rest on her crotch, she shot you a look, dropping her hand under the table and removing your hand from her. she continued with her conversation after this, thinking that was that and now you’d stop. 

oh how wrong she was. 

as soon as she put her hand back up on the table to grab her beer to drink you quickly put your hand back and gave her bulge a small squeeze. yujin promptly choked on the beer she was drinking, glaring at you. after coming up with an excuse for her choking she leaned into your ear and whispered out a warning telling you to stop. and you did just that for a while, even leaving her side to go converse with some other people. after a while, you got bored and decided to mess with her a little more. you looked around for her, and it wasn't long before you caught sight of yujin manspreading on a couch, a table full of empty bottles of beer in front of her and the men sitting opposite to her. you went up to where she was sitting and sat down on her lap, leaning your head into the crook of her neck. yujin’s hands instinctively went around your waist as she asked you if anything was wrong. 

“i’m so bored, when can we leave?” you whined out into her neck, leaving a few kisses to convince her. 

“why don't you get me and these gentlemen here some drinks, i’m having a conversation right now but we can leave in a couple hours.” she gave you a little pat on your ass before ushering you off her lap. 

all the men sitting at the couch opposite to yujin agreed on beer so you went to fetch it for them. maybe if you were someone else, you would’ve found her tone and words infuriating, but then again you weren't someone else. yujin had always been like this, ever since the first week in which you two started getting to know each other. if you were being honest, you were so different before you met yujin, you had so many more dreams that you were determined to achieve but you ended up compromising on all of them for yujin. you would do anything and everything for her, and being her obedient little housewife in front of her coworkers was something you’d do anyday. 

when you came back to them you set down all the drinks on the coffee table in between the two sofas. you once again found yourself on yujin’s lap. “baby, i need you..” you whined out into her ear, subtly pressing yourself harder into her crotch. 

“behave.” it was one word, but one that held multiple threats along with it. her hands harshly gripped your hips as she stopped them from moving while glaring at you. her eyes daring you to challenge her and misbehave more. when she thought it was enough, she turned back to the men in front of her and put a tight smile on her face. “so, where were we?”

you were growing increasingly bored as yujin’s conversation went on, they were talking about business and boring stuff that you didn't understand. you thought back to her warning and you knew there’d be consequences if you actually made her leave this function early yet you couldn't seem to find it in you to care. all you knew was that you wanted to leave and you wanted to jump yujin’s bones, and with that you had made your decision. you would have started to grind on her but that’d be too obvious, the people she was talking to would definitely find out. so instead you reached your hand in between the two of you and started to palm her crotch. 

yujin choked mid sentence when she felt what you were doing, she couldn't exactly reach down and remove your hand. that’d make what you were doing very obvious and she still had appearances to keep up. yujin’s grip on your hips tightend as she glared at you, the silent threat looming over you, her nails were digging into your hips yet you still couldn't find it in you to care. you continued what you were doing, staring her dead in the eyes, a smirk on your lips. yujin abruptly stood up, forcing you to stand along with her. she moved you from her front, very aware and pissed about the very clear tent in her pants. if she could, she’d have kept you in front of her but she needed to bid these men goodbye, they were some very important people and she was beyond mad at what you were doing. 

“i apologize, but i really must leave now. it was a pleasure meeting you gentlemen.” yujin said, shaking all of their hands individually.

one of the men whispered a ‘have fun’ with a wink, clearly catching on to what had happened due to her very obvious boner. “you bet i will.” yujin replied with a large cheeky grin spread across her face. 

yujin’s entire demeanor changed the moment you two stepped out of the event hall, her smile dropping and you knew you were in for it. you both sat in the truck limo which was waiting outside for the both of you. the screen between the driver and passengers was immediately closed and you were forced to your knees. yujin was sat at the long sofa that spread across the entirety of the limo while you were on your knees in between her legs. yujin shoved your head into her clothed crotch, “c’mon baby, suck it won't you? kept on touching me through my pants, thought you’d wanna suck me through them too.” yujin said in mock innocence, tilting her head to the side when you tried to pull away. 

“I said fucking suck bitch.” she pulled your hair, hard. you let out a whimper at the pain in your scalp from the roughness. “don't make me repeat myself again.” 

you hesitantly opened your mouth, not wanting to anger her further by not listening. you wrapped your mouth around the bulge in her crotch and sucked on it, yujin rutting into your face. the entire act was so incredibly humiliating and you genuinely couldn't believe what you were doing. thankfully though, yujin soon decided that was enough and she needed to feel your mouth around her. she yanked your head away, using your hair as leverage, you let out a yelp at the stinging in your scalp. you now had a full view of the wet spot your spit had made on her boner, the sight made you flush red in embarrassment. yujin removed her hand from your hair and went to undo her belt, then unzipped her pants and pulled them and her boxers down enough for her cock to spring out. 

you took a hold of her cock, wrapping your hand around the thick meat. you brought your mouth up to it and softly sucked at the head, your hand stroking what wasn't in your mouth. your slow pace was starting to piss yujin off again so she decided to take things into her own hands. her hand found purchase in your hair as she pushed you all the way down, your nose touching her pelvis. your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, tears springing in your eyes as you choked and tried to pull yourself off. yujin’s hand kept a firm grip on your hair and stopped any type of movement you tried. 

yujin pulled you up for a second, allowing you to breathe in before once again forcing your head down. “fuck baby, takin me so well.” yujin let out in a sigh, your gags and chokes turning her on even more. the way you looked up at her through your tears, your mascara smudged and drool leaking out of your mouth. she thought you looked prettiest like this, a mess all for her. with one last grunt yujin forced you all the way down and emptied herself into your mouth, she pulled out halfway through and started stroking herself, painting your face with her cum. “mm, what do you say baby?” yujin hummed out, taking your chin in her hand and tilting your face up to her. 

“t-thank you..” you stuttered out, your mouth incredibly sore from her roughness. 

yujin hummed in response, a smirk spread across her face as she trailed her hands up to your hair, pulling you up. yujin then manhandled you onto all fours on the sofa while she knelt behind you, squeezing and slapping the skin of your ass. she spread open your cheeks, spitting on your puckered hole and then rubbing it around. she slowly eased a finger into your hole and watched as you tensed up at the foreign feeling. she thrusted the finger in and out and when she felt you were ready, she pushed herself in. you let out a scream at the big intrusion in your small hole, you and yujin didn't do anal often, you couldn't even remember the last time you two did it. 

“i don't think you deserve me in your slut cunt, after what you pulled, you don't deserve to even cum.” yujin grunted out as she bottomed out into your ass. 

you let out a whine at both the feeling and her words, you were wrong but you deserved to cum as least. you clenched around nothing, your neglected cunt yearning for some kind of stimulation. yujin never once faltered in her thrusts into your ass, letting out small grunts of pleasure every time you clenched. the burning feeling of her going in with basically no lube, only a bit of her spit was put on both you and herself, and the small amount of lubricant was starting to make it burn. “i-it hurts–!” you let out in a scream, hissing at the feeling, it was a manageable amount of pain but you didn't want to endure this small amount of pain. 

“do i look like i fucking give a shit?” yujin growled out, bringing her palm down on your ass as she pounded into you harder. 

your arms gave out and you leaned your head into the sofa, yujin gripped your hips keeping your lower half up. you looked to the side, looking at yujin behind you and was greeted by the sexy image of her with sweat dripping down her face, her shirt seemingly molded into her body allowing you to clearly see her abs and biceps. seeing her eyes closed, you took this chance to reach down and play with your clit, gathering your slick and circling the hard nub. you were in heaven, finally getting the stimulation you so craved. you couldn't stop your moans and whimpers if you tried, the feeling overwhelming you after wanting it so badly. it had barely been a few minutes, but the combined feeling of yujin in your ass and your clit finally receiving attention had you teetering over the edge. you clenched impossibly tight, you were so close, on the brink of cumming.. until it was all taken from you. yujin's hand grabbed yours and she pulled both of your hands behind your back as you started struggling against her, upset at the fact that she ruined your orgasm. 

“what? you really thought i’d let you cum? a fucking whore like you doesnt deserve to.” yujin laughed out condescendingly as she continued fucking into you. tears were falling down your face in frustration and at the loss of your orgasm, you were so insanely mad yet you couldn't do anything about it and that frustrated you to no end.

“yujin please oh my god i swear i'll be good next time, please i just need to cum.” you cried out, desperation clear in your voice. 

“we’ll see next time then, if you're good next time then you can cum next time.” you could only let out broken cries of please, begging her to have mercy on you.

yuijn’s thrusts into you became erratic, a clear sign that she was close. when yujin felt like she was on the brink, she pulled out of your ass and bottomed out into your pussy, stilling when she did and then spilling her load deep inside your cunt with a loud groan. you let out a moan at the feeling of her warm semen flooding your insides, clenching tight around her to maximize her pleasure. yujin pulled out of you and fell backwards onto the sofa pulling you on top of her. 

“i didn't cum.” you pouted into her neck, your tears soaking her shirt as you whined. 

yujin wrapped an arm around you, stroking your hair, “when we get home.” 

and as if on cue, the driver knocked on the partition screen and opened it crack, enough for his voice to reach you two. “we’ve arrived ma’am.”

#ahn yujin #smut #ive #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #ive smut #yujin smut #ahn yujin x reader #yujin x reader #gp!yujin #yujin x fem!reader #g!p #g!p ahn yujin #kpop gg #yujinslovr #ive yujin #ive x reader #izone smut #izone imagines #izone x reader #izone yujin #ive imagines

[m-jelly]

Sheriff situation

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, fluff, romance, being a couple, silly situation, supportive Levi, funny situation.

Levi gets a noise complaint from your neighbour. Suspecting it's about the noises Levi's get you making in the bedroom, he goes to have an awkward conversation but is shocked to find it's about your two cute wind chimes, one of which he got you. Levi has to stop you from getting too sassy.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

"Sheriff?"

Levi lifted his head and gazed at a lady in his contact department. "Afternoon, Angela. Everything okay?"

She smiled at him. "Got an interesting call."

"Oh yeah?"

She read out an address before smiling a little. "Ring a bell?"

It did, it was your neighbour's address. "What's wrong?" Worry and fear surged through him as he rose to his feet. He called your name with love. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know if she will be. The call is a noise complaint."

A deep blush went over his cheeks. "Noise..."

"You been making noise at your girlfriend's place?"

"I'll go and see what's happening." He grabbed his jacket and yanked it on. "I probably won't come back as it is near the end of my shift."

"Have fun."

He gulped hard and ignored the giggles from the ladies who took the calls. The only thing Levi could think about with noise had to be how much he made you moan when you were intimate in the bedroom. It's not like you both were screaming the house down or breaking the bed, but he was sure last night the window was open because it was hot and he was doing so many things to you for so long.

The drive over to your home wasn't long, but Levi's mind was racing with what could possibly be going on. Your safety was his concern. Levi knew how much of an ass your old neighbour was. It all started with his lewd comments about your body when you moved in, along with watching you in your home and complaining that you put up blinds to stop him.

Once you protected yourself from his views, you next had to protect yourself in the garden. It became easy for you when Levi and you dated because you were always over Levi's. As a result of rarely being home, the old man was complaining about every single thing you did.

Levi pulled up and expected to see the old man waiting for him and you hiding in your house, but instead, he saw the two of you at the fence shouting at each other. He was now very concerned for your safety.

Levi jogged over as you shouted at the old man that he was a dirty pervert. "Tch, oi! You two, stop with the shouting. Reduce the anger and talk to me. I need to know what's going on."

The old man pointed at you with his bony finger. "I'm sick of you. You accuse me of terrible things and all you've been doing is torturing me!"

Levi sighed. "How does she torture you."

He pointed. "Those wind chimes! They are too loud! They go on all day and night! Surely there is a law against it!"

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, you demanded for the sheriff to come because of wind chimes?"

"They're too loud! I know there is a law about excessive noise! She is violating that law!"

Levi groaned. "Sir, no laws are being violated here. Wind chimes don't make excessive noise."

"They do for me!" He huffed. "You're the sheriff! You should support me! I'm an OAP you know! I built this country."

You laughed. "Oh really? What part did you build, huh?"

Levi said your name sternly. "Don't."

You pouted. "Why am I being told off when he's the asshole!"

The old man shook his head. "See what I have to put up with? I was always so nice to her. She's been pushing my buttons and now she has those damn wind chimes. I'm an old sick lonely man."

"Go to the hospital then if you're that sick and maybe call some friends over if you're lonely."

He glared at you. "I have no one!"

You smirked. "Wonder why. Not like your attitude and spying on young women is the issue."

"I want her arrested!"

Levi let out a long sigh. "For what?"

You showed Levi your wrists. "I wouldn't mind you arresting me, sugar."

"Behave."

The old man shook his head. "She should be arrested and locked up! Someone like her should not be in society."

You laughed. "Then who would you try and perv on huh?"

"I am no pervert! You always pick on me and lie. Kids these days are all the same!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not a kid! I'm an adult. Plus, you calling a kid makes you perving on me far worse!"

"You just hate old people! You pick on me! Us old people are forgotten about!"

You growled. "Oh please, you get so much shit handed to you. You just like being the victim all the time!"

He pointed at the wind chime. "I want this gone! Both of them."

Levi stepped over and put his arm out. "Sir, don't grab that. Those wind chimes are her property."

"They're terrible things! They're ugly! They need to go!"

"Sir, touch them and you will get into trouble."

The old man poked Levi's chest. "You're taking her side because she's probably polishing your gun! You're sleeping with criminals."

You leaned around Levi and smirked. "You're just jealous that he can get some of this and you never will."

The old man glared. "You'll be begging me to give it to you! When I was younger."

"Yeah, when you were younger, you're not now."

"I will shove those chimes."

You grabbed one and shook it in his face. "Oh no so much noise!"

Levi tried not to laugh at your actions. He softly called your name. "Stop shaking your chimes."

You stopped and mumbled. "Thought you liked it."

"I do." He winked at you making you smile. "How about you put those cute chimes at my place?"

Your eyes sparkled. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, we've been a couple for two months and I can't get enough of you. So, move in with me and you'll be far away from this man. You can have wind chimes and you can sunbathe in my garden because my home is on the edge of town."

You nodded as tears filled your eyes. "Yes, yes I'd love to."

"Perfect. Now, no more shaking your chimes at other men." He nodded to your home. "Get pack as much of your stuff as you can and I'll drive you home. We'll pack the rest this weekend to move you in."

You kissed Levi's cheek. "Okay!"

Levi turned to the old man. "I know what you've been doing with her. I've been staying over often, so I've seen what you've been up to."

The old man went pale. "Sheriff, I was just...I...uh..."

"I want to drag your ass to a cell, but I lack evidence." He gave the man a look of murder. "Hurt her, touch her, pester her or do anything against her or any woman again and I will be forced to take action. Do not test me."

He nodded. "Y-Yes sheriff!"

"Now, go inside and be a well-behaved citizen of this town. Myself and others in this town of sick of your shit. Now go." Levi watched the man race inside. "Tch, damn pervert." He turned and walked all the way to your side of the fence and into your home. "Darling?"

You pushed your full suitcase down the stairs. "I'm here! I packed clothes and some cuddly toys."

Levi eyed the bag. "You don't need cuddly toys."

You frowned. "Why not? I love them."

"I'm your cuddly toy." He pouted. "You're supposed to hug me, not them."

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around Levi's neck. "You jealous of my cuddly toys?"

"I am." He hugged you tightly. "You're mine." He kissed you and hummed in happiness. "Can't believe you shook your wind chime at him."

You laughed. "Just wanted to make things exciting for you."

He smiled softly. "You're incredible. I love you."

"Love you too."

#levi #levi ackerman #aot levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #levi fanfiction #fanfic #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi x reader #jelly fanfics #levi x yn #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi attack on titan #levi aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman aot

[foreverdolly]

𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 |80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 4.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part two, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be two parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

The incessant metallic clinging and loud mechanic whirs echoed against the cement flooring of the auto body garage. The sun was peeking just over the trees right outside the open garage doors, the spring sky slowly burning gold and pink. Most of the men were rushing to finish up with the vehicles that they were working on, eager to get home to their families after a long day of work. There was one mechanic though -who might be young, but made up for it with skill- was still elbow deep under the car’s hood, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. He’d only been looking at the car for five minutes and knew exactly what was wrong with it. The elderly woman had gotten her car towed all the way to Travis’ shop after the damn thing stalled out in the middle of the Winn-Dixie parking lot. The young mechanic could see her through the lobby’s windows watching him, her tiny wrinkly hands balled up into nervous fists.

“Aye- Austin?” Travis jogged right up to Austin, placing his hand down on one of the side mirrors as he waited for the diagnosis. 

“It’s not the engine. The transmission,” He pointed towards the old hunk of junk, leaning his head back under the hood to show his boss. “It’s completely shot. She said it will jerk when she accelerates and the wheel will sometimes shake when she’s goin’ fast enough. What’s happening is that it’s slippin’. The damn thing won’t stay in gear. This car is ten years out of date- I mean. . . It's a ‘74. So even if we order the parts-” 

“It’s gonna cost more to fix than it would be for her to just buy a whole new one.” The boss finished for him, sighing when he saw Austin nod his head in agreement. 

The long haired blonde blinked his eyes against the burning sunset, shooing a gnat away from his face as he leaned his hip against the car. He crossed one booted foot over the other as he waited patiently for the man to make a decision. While Travis enjoyed making money, Austin knew that the bastard was above stealing it from little old ladies. With a small huff of defeat the middle aged man began walking back in the direction of the lobby, most likely to break the bad news. He stopped just before he opened the door, pointing a quick finger-gun in Austin’s direction. 

“Are you comin’ over to Mark’s cookout tonight? You can bring your girl.” He called out over the loud noise. 

Austin shook his head before flashing the man a little face of distaste. 

“I’ve gotta go to my dad’s house to grab some of my old shit. Besides- I don’t have a girl to bring.” 

Travis shot him “a face” right back, but one of disbelief. “Yeah, right. A girl doesn’t just bring her friend a hand packed lunch every other day unless she was hopin’ for somethin’ to happen between them..” And before Austin could even defend himself the man was gone, sauntering solemnly over to the corner where the elderly woman was sitting. 

You weren’t the one that was hoping for a chance at romance, but Austin was. He’d rather die than admit it, but his co-workers' words lit a small fire in his chest; a hopeful pyre that didn’t dim. 

The wooden stairs were old and weather worn, the nails rusted with age. Austin always felt a sense of dread when he heard the familiar creaking under his feet, and the fact that he could hear the television droning on from inside of the trailer didn’t make it any better. It meant that he was home, and the blonde knew what that meant. A fight was sure to ensue, and after the shitty day that he had at work, that was the last thing that he wanted to endure. He found that the door was unlocked, per usual. The inhabitant of the rickety death trap didn’t have anything worth stealing. 

“Why are you here?” The middle aged man looked terrible for his age, though Austin blamed that on the endless supply of alcohol and drugs that ran through the man’s system. 

Austin cleared his throat, closing the door behind him with a grimace. He didn’t want to be here, but there were still a few boxes back in his old room that he needed to grab. After that he’d be gone for good, or at least that’s what he told himself anyway. His no-good father was used to relying on other people to save the day, one of those people being his own son. 

He blamed his strong sense of duties on the fact that he was raised in the deep south. “Being a man” was hammered into his skull from the moment of his very conception. Taking care of your family, especially when they are unable to do it for themselves, was considered a must. Austin had always hated his father. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he had felt gratitude or love in any magnitude towards his father. Still, he was a man and needed to provide for his family. . . right? He didn’t want anyone to think less of him for abandoning his father. More than anything, he didn’t want the wrong kind of gossip ending up in the wrong people’s ears.

What was important to him now was getting the hell away from his abusive father. He was old enough to start thinking about what he wanted for himself in the future. He’d always craved companionship with a certain person. . . children were on his radar too. The last thing he wanted was for his druggie father to be in his own kid’s lives. 

The lanky man didn’t fit in the small home anymore, and he hadn’t for years. Both physically and emotionally, he had outgrown his prison many moons ago. He took a few seconds to look around the living room. Now that he wasn’t there to clean up after the grotesque man, the house smelled absolutely putrid. Austin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, eyes dancing along the empty beer cans and overflowing sink. 

“Jus’ gettin’ the last of my stuff.” Austin grumbled, his bulky black boots sticking to the dirty linoleum floors as he tried his best to breeze past the older man’s old recliner. 

A hand reached out, gripping at his wrist to stop him. Austin looked down, the muscles in his sharp jaw clicking as he held back the urge to rip himself out of the man’s reach. He knew that he was too big for the man to intimidate now, but his body still remembered the pain his father had put him through as a kid. 

“Ya talkin’ bout that toolbox?” The man’s voice was gravely, all thanks to the menthols he religiously smoked. Austin could smell the Miller Light and smoke coming off of him now. It was nauseating. 

The blonde ripped his eyes off of the man’s face, peeking off down the hall to see his old bedroom door wide open. He had locked it from the inside and crawled out the window the last time that he was here, taking the spare key with him. It was still tucked away safely in his wallet. His breathing stuttered when he realized that the doorknob had been taken off completely. 

“I need it for work. What did you do with it?” Austin tried to school the deep southern accent out of his voice. He got into the habit of doing that around his father from a young age, desperately wanting to seem as different from the old man as possible. 

“If that’s what yer here for, don’ bother. I sold it.” The young adult’s heart sank to his ass, and this time he didn’t hesitate in ripping his wrist out of the man’s hand. 

“To who? Where is it?” Austin questioned heatedly, staring daggers into the old man’s face. 

The sandy haired man was staring back at the television now, watching old reruns of some shitty old Western movie that must have come out in the sixties. He didn’t answer Austin, too drunk to care and too high to listen. 

“Dad!” Austin’s deep voice boomed, echoing around the filthy trailer. “Where the fuck did you take it? The pawn shop off’a Assembly Street?” That was where his father often sold stolen shit for a few extra bucks. 

That got the other man’s attention. He didn’t take kindly to being yelled and cursed at, especially not by his son. He could always deal it out, but refused to take it. Ray Butler had stopped beating on his son during his Junior year in highschool though, realizing that the boy was now bigger than him. Out of a cowardly fear for his own safety, he stuck to the emotional abuse instead, which only got worse once he didn’t have a true outlet for his frustrations. Austin bristled as he watched the old man glare up at him, taking a long swig from his beer before answering. 

“I took it to Keith’s. If ya needed it so bad, why the hell didn’t you take it with ya in the first place? It’s in my house, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” It was surprising how coherent the man was, especially since he must have been drinking all day long. 

Austin’s father hadn’t had a job in the last seven years, but still managed to scrape by somehow. He was a petty thief whose criminal record stretched all the way back into his boyhood. He had raised the blonde to be the exact same way, but the only thing Austin had truly adopted from his “teachings” was a shared hatred for cops and a scrappy sort of resourcefulness. The other kids that he was forced to interact with at school were the ones that taught him how to fight. They enjoyed taking turns trying to beat the shit out of the town’s poor kid, but once he finally hit his growth spurt in the summer after sixth grade the roles were largely reversed. Nobody messed with him by the time that he had entered high school. He was feared by his peers and just as hated. 

The negative image that he had created served him well though. Not only had he made a name for himself, he had also gained the ability to protect his best friend, which was the only thing he really cared about. Getting the dog shit knocked out of him was one thing, but seeing boys and girls teasing her was a different story. He remembered storming into the girl’s bathroom during his junior year very vividly, yanking up one of popular blonde’s by the back of her shirt. 

“I’m a Butler, so don’t think that I’m above hittin’ a girl.” 

He’d constantly ask you if the bullying persisted even after that, but you always went out of your way to tell him that they had stopped their teasing. Austin was made fun of because he lived in a trailer that should have been condemned long since they originally moved in and barely had enough money to get school supplies every year, but you were picked on because you were perfect. It didn’t make any sense to him, but girls are strange creatures. You made good grades, was the nicest person he had ever met without even trying, and your natural good looks made matters even worse for you. Getting the mean girls to steer clear of you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping the male pervert’s away was an entirely different story. 

It didn’t help that after a long day of putting up with the constant glares, rumors, and telling boys to back off, he’d be forced to come home to incessant tongue lashings. He barely had time to study after taking care of the forty year old drunkard, hence his rotten grades in school. You could only do his homework for him so many times, but hey- you tried. He graduated because of you, at the very least. 

He had landed a job as a mechanic straight out of high school, having been skilled for his age. Who knew that driving a shitty lemon of a car that he constantly had to fix up would lead to a career? He had gotten lucky, which was a rarity in his life. 

Getting his own place was one hell of an achievement, but his past always found a way to come back and haunt him. 

Austin stormed through the connected kitchen and down the hall, sucking in a deep breath before he entered the room. All of the boxes that he had stacked in the corner had been ransacked and picked clean. It was Austin’s fault for thinking that a simple locked door would keep his father out. The blonde could scream over his stolen Iron Maiden and Dio tapes later, for now he needed to focus on the important thing: his tools. 

“You sold them to your crackhead dealer? For what? A bag, right? That was over a hundred dollars worth’a tools!” He screamed from the backroom, kicking an old wooden chair that had been junking up his old room for ages. The thing went flying, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding cracking noise. 

Austin was covered in car oil, smelled like gasoline and sweat after a long day of work, and all he had wanted was to slip in the trailer undetected and grab his things. He had hoped that his father would have been passed out in his room by now so that he could have been in and out without being forced to converse. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. The blonde reached for the metal baseball bat that he still had stuffed under his childhood bed, knocking it against his boot a few times before storming out of the room, pushing past his father and heading straight for the front door. 

“Austin, wait,” The male knew what was coming. The only time his father ever referred to him by his name was when he wanted something. “Can you give me twenty dollars? I need’a pay the power.” 

The baseball bat felt heavy in his hand. He balanced the weight for a second, his jaw clicking as he imagined just how good it would feel to bring it down on top of the other man’s head. If Ray ended up dead, he was sure that he could blame it on a handful of people who he had stolen from or cheated. Austin didn’t need that on his conscience though. So instead of barking back a reply or even pulling out his wallet, he yanked his hand away with a grunt, storming out the door. 

“Jus’ use the money that you got from sellin’ all’a my shit.” He called out before slamming the door behind him, the small and dingy diamond shaped window vibrating with the force of his anger. 

“Is your mama home? If not then I’m gonna use your shower.” Austin gently pushed his way into the house, kicking off his dirty work boots before bounding up the familiar carpeted stairs. 

You blinked in the entryway, slowly closing the front door before turning around to watch him go, the chain from his wallet jingling with his movement. With a small sigh you locked it behind you, following up after him. 

“Well hello to you too.” You teased, watching him open up the linen closet so that he could grab a towel. He was caked with grease, his sun kissed cheeks speckled with black and gray. His black work shirt fit snugly on his form, having shrunk in the wash. At his hip, swinging around with every step that he took, was his black handkerchief. It was also wrecked with engine grease, having been used to clean his hands one too many times that day. He looked devilishly handsome, but he always did. Nothing new. 

“Sorry. Really bad day. Just got back from Keith’s place- he had some of the shit that I left at my dad’s.” He left the bathroom door open as he slipped off his socks, then hurriedly took his shirt off and threw that into the dirty clothes hamper. His small apartment didn’t have a washer and dryer hookup, so he had been doing his laundry at your place for the last two months. 

You didn’t mind, and your mother and father hadn’t noticed either. You sucked at your teeth, turning around to give him privacy. You heard the shower turn on, then the familiar clanking of his chain wallet hitting the side of the sink. Once you heard the shower curtain open and close you turned around, seeing the room empty, his dirty clothes piled neatly in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you as you stepped inside, jumping up on the counter so that you could swing your legs back and forth as you spoke. He seemed frustrated, and you could tell that he needed to talk about it. 

Growing up in a tragically tiny town meant that everybody was always in each other’s business. From preschool to your senior year in high school, every moment was spent with the same exact children. You could count the newer families to move into the small community over the last five years on one hand. Life was slow moving in the old south, and things were horrifically monotonous. You and the blonde had been stuck together like glue ever since primary school, and you didn’t see it changing in the future. 

To say that you knew Austin like the back of your hand was an understatement. Every flaw, quirk and triumph had either been discovered by you, with you at his side, or involved you in some way. In a town filled with mostly elderly folks, kids often found a group of likeminded people and stuck with them for the entirety of their lives. It was horribly predictable of the two of you, yet here you two were, connected at the hip. The bond between you and Austin went above just being best friends. It was something tied to your soul. It wasn’t just hard to imagine a life without him in it, rather it was impossible. 

He didn’t have to tell you that he was angry for you to know that he was beyond aggravated. The restlessness was plain to see. Whether he would be upfront and tell you about the reason or not, you could tell that he needed someone to just sit and listen. Austin wasn’t the kind of person to talk in depth about the things that really upset him. He was more of the “suffer in silence until I inevitably blow up” type. You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to whine and cry to him about even the slightest of inconveniences. The two of you were polar opposites, and yet it just worked. 

“Keith let you in the house?” You asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you watched the steam beginning to curl up and over the curtain. 

Austin let out a humorless laugh, and you could imagine him shaking his head back and forth. You smiled despite the situation, bringing your hand up to your mouth so that you could bite down on your thumb nail. You instantly regretted it, pulling away to see that you had already chipped your freshly painted fingers. 

“A’course he didn’t. I broke into the fucker’s place. Got my tool box back, but the damn thing had been ransacked already. The bones picked clean. I’m out over fifty dollars in tools- checked it once I got back into the car.” 

“Jesus- did he see you? That guy is absolutely insane.” Thankfully, you’d only met the man in passing a handful of times. He was the crazy townee that everybody knew and feared. Keith was the kind of person that you point out to your developing teens to scare them away from drugs and alcohol. “If you don’t want to end up like Ole’ Keith, you better not touch that stuff.” He had a bunch of handmade signs outside of his house with bible scriptures on them, meanwhile the man was dealing meth and coke to make a living. As was the deep south, filled to the brim with religious and moral hypocrisies. 

Either you were a devout Christian or just another local crackhead. Thankfully, you and Austin didn’t fall into either of those categories. You seemed to have made one of your own over the years. 

“He wasn’t home. His truck was gone. The dude left his bedroom window unlocked, so I just ripped the screen off.” 

You used to worry for Austin on a daily basis. The burns and bruises he’d come to school with broke your heart, but no matter how many times you begged your parents to let the blonde come and live with you, they always let you down. You were happy that he finally had somewhere safe to lay his head at night, though he still hadn’t broken the habit of spending most of his down time with you (and you prayed he wouldn’t ever grow out of that habit). As soon as he got off work he was making his way up to your bedroom, often dead tired down to his bones or pissed off. Your parents were gone most of the time anyway though. Your father was a hotshot business man who was away for work most of the time, and your mother insisted on following along with him after the “incident” that happened when you were twelve.

Men who spend most days without their wives and children breathing down their neck usually take advantage of the opportunity. Your father was no different. He was no saint. Then again, neither was your mother. She took most of her frustration out on you after that, and though you knew that her outbursts weren’t a direct cause of anything that you had personally done, that didn’t make it any better. 

Austin was just as much your therapist as you were his. Maybe that was the cause for your codependency. . . either way, neither of you regretted it. It only strengthened the bond, really. 

After Austin was showered and dressed in an outfit that he had left at your house some weeks ago, the two of you found yourselves sprawled out on your bed. You were busy finishing up some homework for one of your classes, and he was reading one of your magazines. He had his head hanging off the side of the mattress, ankles crossed up on one of your pillows. His wet hair was dripping onto your floor. The constant droplets hitting your outdated shag carpet lulled the two of you into a comfortable silence. The two of you didn’t need to talk 

“Where’s a newer one? This one’s a year old.” He suddenly dropped what he was reading onto the floor next to his head, sitting up so that he could face you again. 

You scrunched up your nose, dropping your psychology textbook beside you. 

“That is the newer one.” You told him, to which he scooped it up and off of the floor, turning it over and pointing at the date. 

He was right. It was old. 

It was the June twenty-first issue, the date clear to see on the front: nineteen eighty-four. Bob Dylan was posed on the front in all of his tambourine-man glory. 

“Shit. Sorry, Aus. I thought I handed you the Beatles Anniversary edition.” You started to stand up, but he waved you off. 

“I should probably get going anyway. I have to try to cook myself something. If I don’t eat now then I’ll jus’ go to bed hungry.” 

You had hoped that the two of you could order pizza tonight, but you kept your mouth shut. Lately you found yourself clinging to him a little bit harder than usual. Maybe it was the stress of your sophomore year in college, but you couldn’t be certain. You tried to school the disappointment off of your face as you nodded, standing up to walk him back to the front door. 

“Are we still driving down to see Dave’s show? His band sucks, but he’ll be disappointed if we miss it.” He asked you at the front door, shoving his sock clad feet into his work boots and tying them up haphazardly. 

You slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand, eyes wide. You’d completely forgotten about your friend’s show tomorrow. You’d planned to stay after class and study in the library, but you didn’t mind cramming for next week's test. Austin laughed, the sound causing you to smile to yourself. His laugh was deep, rich and completely contagious. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” He leaned down so that he was at your height, his smile practically blinding. 

You sucked in a breath, but nodded your head anyway. It was hard not to notice his beauty in moments like this. He’d always been handsome, but lately you’d been looking a little too closely at that. A sick twinge of guilt soured your stomach, a feeling of what could only be categorized as “betrayal” causing your face to flush. He was your best friend, and if he knew that you were looking at him like that he would probably be disgusted with you. Hell, you were horrified by your own thoughts recently. You tried to blame the odd feelings on your long-standing lack of romance, but you were starting to believe that was just an excuse.

“I completely forgot.” And you felt bad about it. You’d been so busy with your school work, the recent fight that you had with your mother and. . . well. . . Austin. You cleared your throat softly, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the tiled floor to try and distract yourself. 

Austin seemed to notice the change in attitude and put his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in the way that he knew you despised. He chuckled when you slapped his hand away, instead moving his hand to the base of your neck so that he could pull your much smaller form against his in a tight hug. He’d always been lean and tall, but his physically demanding job had caused his muscles to fill out. He felt warm and strong, smelling of your shampoo. 

“I’ll drive us tomorrow, alright? Maybe you can get some studying done in the car.” And with that he removed his arms from around you. 

You felt the loss of his warmth like a slap in the face. You let him go though, watching as he bounded down the steps towards his van, his keys jingling in his hand with the movement. He was in higher spirits after spending a few hours in your presence. He felt lighter, like some of the crushing weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You leaned against the doorframe, peeking your head out just to watch him. 

“I love you! Drive home safe, alright?” You called out. 

Austin couldn’t fight off the blush that raised to his ears, but he turned around and quickly returned the sentiment. You had told him that you loved him every day, but his heart still pounded like it had the very first time. Only these days he wished that you really meant it. 

That you loved him the same way that he loved you. 

#foreverdolly #austin butler fanfic #austin butler #austin butler fluff #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler angst #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #elvis 2022 #elvis baz luhrmann #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #self insert

[cowboyjen68]

Hi!!

I just wanted to ask some advice from one butch to another.

I recently got my dream job of being a warden on a nature reserve (and i love it!), while interacting with people there I get called a young man very often (i am 18 lol) and it gives me euphoria to know im masculine enough to even pass as a man. I've also had some volunteers ask if I was a man or not (despite my feminine name).

But recently I got called a "lady" outside while out with my mother. It drove me INSANE I cried alot.

Don't get me wrong I do identify as a woman but I hate being seen as a lady.

I've even thought about using he/him pronouns recently and changing my name but i'm too scared to as most people won't understand bc im still a lesbian.

Is this strange?

ps love u and ur blog lots xx

This is an easy answer because I was 18 once and looked enough like a teenage boy that I got "hey sport" and "hey young man" all the time, especially when in my work clothes. I worked for The Mayor's Youth Corp in Iowa City in the summers of my 15th and 16th year. Mom and Dad let me get a work permit AND bought me a used Datsun Pickup so I could drive myself the 20 miles there and back each day.

I was a volunteer with the Corp of Engineers youth from 14 to 16 and Dad knew I was super excited about this job. Mom was not thrilled that I wanted to cut my hair but my "grand mullet" was really hot under the hard hat in the summer heat of Iowa. (in the 1980's boys and girls had the short in front long and permed in back look) We compromised and I cut the sides really short. (photo of my me at 16 in my uniform for reference)

Using "he" would never have occurred to me because "EWWW Boys". This is not to say, however, that I hated being mistaken for a boy, on the contrary, it felt good. When someone thought I was a young man it meant they treated me as such. They didn't talk down to me, I knew they assumed I was capable and willing to get dirty. I knew unconsiously that along with the mistaken identity came many perks. This was nothing I analyzed but little girls see very early on the difference in treatment they recieve from their brothers, male cousins and neighborhood boys. This difference leads us to become negotiators to control our circumstances and not entittled to treatment based on our skills and actual personalies.

When an adult recognized me as a boy, even for a second at first glance, I knew I didn't have to prove myself. They, for an instant, assigned to me words like "strong, capable, demanding etc". No negotations required.

When someone realized I was a girl they literally had a change in their face. They smiled at me, softened their voice. When I was called "young lady" or "Miss" it always seemed to be backed my the worst assumptions (in my mind anyway). Lady is steeped in all kinds of traits I didnt want assigned to me. "quiet, weak, likes to dress pretty"OR "motherly, submissive, meek" Nothing good in my teen brain, that is for sure. Lady felt so OLD, so married to a man and reliant on him for survival, so polyster pants and ugly flats and scratchy blouses with a flower imprint. NONE of these things are inherent to being a woman or even socially forced on us but that is not how things work sometimes. Words that describe people get stereotypes and myths and traits attached to them all the time. Woman and girl are no different.

I can tell you, the best feeling in the world when I was in that job was when my supervisor, who damn well knew I was a young woman, trusted me with all the same tasks as the boys. Who valued my opinions and abilities equally to the young men. He took time to teach me what I didn't know, just like with them and didn't assume I couldn't or didn't want to learn things on the job. He didn't shame ANYONE for not being strong enough or for getting tired or needing a break.

Don't let the assumptions of others force you into another box of conformity. You don't need a boys name or to use any pronouns you don't feel connected to just to please others. In fact, none of that effort will change perceptions of those around you. I can promise that one day being called Lady will just be another word that you can hear and know it does not change your personality or your interests or control the hope you have for your future. What does waste a lot of time and energy is trying to adjust things in your life to fit incorrect or snap assumptions about you as a person. You can never control the thoughts of those around you but what you can do is stop worrying about it and enjoy YOU.

You have a job you love and are sure to thrive in. You are solid in your sexuality and love of women, you are in a unique position to possibly change the perceptions of others when they think of "young women". Your interactions with the public are sure to effect the assumpions of at least some people when they think of young women and their roles in our society.

Congratulations on your new career and I bet you rock that uniform.

#lesbian #butch #stereotypes #careers #words #lady

[aesthetic-bbyg]

SORRY NOT SORRY ~ Sanji

sanji x fem!reader

IN WHICH some guy poor attempt at flirting with you, in front of your man, backfires.

Nattie speaks: Another Sanji fic, what can I sayyyyy😋

WALKING INTO THE BAR YOU knew that someone would come up to you. It wasn’t like it was rare, a pretty lady entering any premises gives men the idea that she must be approached. Even if there was another man trailing behind, they still have the drunken confidence to come over and shoot gross comments. In your case, it was Sanji who entered after you, though he wasn’t just any other man, but you’re husband. You had the shimmering Diamond on your left hand to prove it. His hand was clasped in yours, large smiles still on your faces after sneaking away from the Going Merry for some time alone.

Immediately, you noticed how crowded it was, it seemed to be a particularly busy night. So much for time alone. Drunken bodies everywhere, perverted gazes burning right through you as sat down on a old barstool. Your hands clasped themselves in front of you, laying gently on the wood. Sanji took the seat right next yours, his large hand finding it’s place on your lower back. He looked at you, and you looked at him, seeing the love and admiration swirl his eyes was enough to have you blushing.

Entering the Baratie was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made because it lead to the life you had now. It was easy falling for Sanji, with his flirty comments sliding it’s way into your heart and his charming looks to back it up, how could you not? Despite your confidence with living in a world without a man and the fun it was being single, the thought of marriage with Sanji was something you didn’t stop to think about. You just knew, it was like you were made for him, destined to be his wife. The man could cook, for god sake, it was already enough to get you down on your knees and sucking on his cock as a tip for your meal. But the way he treated you was so much more better, truly you couldn’t think of another man like him. You never had the worry of infidelity from him, or him treating you wrong, never. You had such a strong trust for Sanji, if he told you that he could bring you all the stars, you’d believe him.

“Nice to escape the ship for a while, hmm?” Sanji asked quietly, rubbing a smoothing thumb along the clothed skin of your back.

You nodded in agreement, resting your elbow against the bar, supporting your head onto the palm of your hand. “Nice to have you to myself for a change.” You chuckled softly, “As much as I adore Luffy, his appetite is ridiculous.”

Sanji laughed, subtly flipping the loose pieces of blonde hair that covered his face. “I don’t mind, but I do miss having you to myself.” He squeezed the flesh of you side, smirking a bit as he stared into your eyes. You knew exactly what he meant. “How ‘bout you stay in the kitchen after hours?”

With such a tempting offer and the already growing arousal in you stomach, you couldn’t help but smile. Soon, the bartender approached opening his mouth to speak, “A martini.” You said before he could even utter a word, he nodded, stepping back as you tapped your fingers against the wood. Sanji decided to skip on drinking, not wanting to be intoxicated before dinner preparation. “Boring.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes. “I like it when your drunk.”

“You only like it ‘cause I absolutely embarrass myself and it gives you another thing to laugh at me about.” The blonde quipped back, making you chuckle, he was partially correct. You didn’t think he was embarrassing himself, you just thought he was…messy.

“Oh, c’mon, I like seeing you get naked.” You giggled, making Sanji blush and roll his own blue eyes. “That’s my favorite part.” The man had a bad habit of stripping down to his boxers whenever he was drunk around you. Slurred words claiming that your ‘hotness’ warmed up the room. “But I also like it when you start crying and start confessing you’re love to me as if we aren’t married.”

Sanji winced at the memory, remembering only the extreme headache and nausea from the next morning. It wasn’t until he recovered from his hangover and asked you the events of the night before that you told him. The intoxicated man had took you to a private area of the ship, bawling his eyes out and saying that he couldn’t keep living a lie. At first it terrified you, but when he began confessing his love and need for you it took so much control to hold back the laugh itching the back of your throat.

“Don’t even mention it.” He muttered with a quiet laugh, moving to rub a soothing hand on the warm skin of your thighs.

“A martini.” The bartender slid the shimmering glass towards you, the foggy liquid making you smile.

“Thank you.” You plucked the toothpick that held the olives, biting one and humming contently. “You’re truly missing out, Sanj.”

“I’m alright here, love.” He replied, watching you lightly sip and scrunch your face at the bitter zest the drink had to its flavor.

“Not even a taste?” You offered the drink, swirling around the olives, “It’s very good.”

He shrugged, a smirk building on his face. “Just a taste.” You smiled, pushing the glass in his direction before he leaned in, hands cupping your cheeks as his tongue intruded your mouth. You hummed, kissing him back desperately, enjoying the way his pink muscle explored you. “Not bad.” He mumbled, pulling away. “But I’ll still have to pass.”

You chuckle, wiping the saliva from the edge of your lips, “How long ‘til you think they find us?” You asked suggestively with a raise of your brow.

“I’ll give it a good twenty minutes.” Sanji replied, fiddling with the wedding band on his own finger. “Best use the bathroom here before we go back to using a bucket.” He stood from his spot, planting a kiss on the side of your head before walking towards the back of the place. He disappeared into the crowd, piles of bodies making him blend in within an instant.

You continued sipping your drink, feeling it burn your throat but satisfy your taste buds, you could practically feel the alcohol in your veins. Though, there was moments where you wish you were already drunk, like the moment that a man seat right in Sanji’s spot. He held a crooked smile, reeked of rum, and had disheveled hair.

“Well, what a pretty lady we got here.” He said, a beer bottle in his grip. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You sighed heavily, turning to him with a glare. “Not one that you’ll be remembering anytime soon.”

“Feisty, I like it.” He chuckled, hiccuping and holding back a belch. “You’re gorgeous.”

“I know.”

He let out another gross chuckle, his breath stinking of old fish, you sipped at your drinks hoping that the alcohol would neutralize the stench. He licked his lips, looking at you up and down, hooded eyes undressing you, and you fucking hated it. “Well, pretty lady, how ‘bout I offer you a drink.”

“No.” You replied, turning back to look straight ahead, focusing on something other then his babbling go keep you distracted.

“How ‘bout a trip back to mine.” He slowly stood from his seat, getting closer to you, the proximity made you cringe. You nearly puked when his hand rested on your thigh.

Your eyes flashed up, catching sight Sanji as he exited the bathroom. His own eyes met yours, taking notice of man in front of you and the expression on your face. He was already pushing past people to get to you but you remained emotionless.

“Sorry.” You pried his hand off your thigh, chugging down whatever was left of the strong drink, wiping the liquid as it dripped down side of your chin. You looked him up and down, taking in his round form, “I’m not into short guys.” You pushed yourself off the bar and shoving past him towards Sanji, who just watched.

The one thing he understood most about you was how capable you were of protecting yourself. How you’re able to outsmart your way out of a situation, or insult your way out, all with a pretty smile on your lips. The drunken man stared at your figure as you walked away, eyes widening at the sight of a much taller man glaring at him. Sanji’s lips quirked up into a smirk as he took your hand, kissing it softly while never breaking away. The anger now replaced with nervousness, he scurried away from his spot and into the booming crowd of people.

Sanji let out a chuckle, walking with you to the exit of the bar, where Usopp was coincidentally, entering. The sharp-shooter sighed in relief at the sight of the two of you, rushing out an explanation about how Luffy is ‘dying’ of hunger. Sanji’s assistance was needed urgently, having to cure the boy before his whines of starvation killed everyone else on the ship.

One dinner was served, you did stay back to help clean, watching as each crew member headed into their rooms. You indeed stayed after hours, many hours after.

Will forever live laugh and love our fav Chef simp. Did y’all get the Jennifer Tilly reference??🤞

AHHHHHHHHHH

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece show #vinsmoke sanji x reader #Sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #Sanji #opla sanji #sanji x you #Jennifer Tilly #taz skylar #my man

[unclewaynemunson]

The final part to the Wingman Wayne AU is here! (And I also decided to publish the whole thing on ao3!!!)

'You got somethin' you wanna tell me?' asks Wayne when he steps out of the trailer to join Eddie for a smoke, the door creaking behind him.

Eddie still can't believe how that man never fails to be one step ahead of him.

'Um... Can I um...' He clears his throat. He doesn't know why he's being so nervous all of a sudden – it's just Wayne, after all. 'We're having dinner together tomorrow, right?'

'Always on Sunday,' Wayne confirms. His perceptive blue eyes wander over his nephew’s face like he's concerned about something. Then, a strong hand lands on Eddie’s shoulder.

'You know you can tell me anything, right?'

Of course he does. He breathes out, thinks back to that excited look in Wayne’s eyes when he first gave Eddie that number. Wayne’s safe. Always has been, always will be.

'Can I invite my boyfriend?'

His uncle arches an eyebrow, deepening the lines on his forehead. 'Your boyfriend, huh?' he repeats. 'Is he named Chad?'

Eddie bursts into laughter. Of course he would react like that.

'No, he's not,' he answers. 'He's named Steve.'

'Ha! I knew it!'

Eddie only rolls his eyes; of-fucking-course this was going to happen.

'So I take it you wanna tell me you learned to never doubt your old uncle again, huh?’

Eddie snorts. 'Need I remind you that I only met up with him to stop your ridiculous matchmaking?'

'And now that you know how wrong you were ‘bout that one, you wanna apologize to me for bein’ as stubborn as a goddamn mule and beg me to not stop my matchmaking after all?'

'No, I very much still want you to stop that,' Eddie retorts. 'I'm actually planning to keep this one around long enough for you to never have to play matchmaker again. But you know what, Steve has this lesbian friend, I'm sure she'd love to be set up with a cute girl who “looks like a lesbian” to you.'

Wayne doesn't seem to register the sarcasm in Eddie's voice or the teasing twinkle in his eyes; he frowns, looking like he's deep in thought, before his face lights up all of a sudden.

'I met this nice young lady who works for the Gazette, she did some article 'bout the working circumstances at the plant a couple weeks back. Was real polite, actually listened to what we had to say for a change... I'm sure she'd get along just fine with Steve's friend.'

Eddie starts cackling. 'Don't let it get to your head now, old man.' He pauses. 'Or actually, maybe you should. You could become, like, the psychic of the gays. Earn lots of money with it.' Eddie wiggles his eyebrows as he says it.

Wayne merely shakes his head at him, but an almost invisible smile is tugging at his lips. Suddenly, he brusquely pulls Eddie in for a sideways hug.

'I'm happy for ya, Ed. You better keep your Steve around for a while, alright?'

-------

As soon as Steve arrives at the trailer, Eddie launches himself into in his arms and immediately gets himself a taste of the most delicious kind of strawberry known to mankind, because he might as well profit as much as he possibly can from the fact that he can actually do that now.

Steve gapes at him, his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyebrows raised in bewilderment. 'Dude. Did you just lick my mouth?'

Eddie shrugs. 'Tastes like a lollipop.'

It isn't until he takes a step back that he properly notices the parts of Steve that aren't his pink lips: he's wearing a dinner jacket and holding a bunch of flowers – which by the looks of it got mildly maimed by Eddie's enthusiastic greeting.

'What the fuck, Stevie.' It slips out before Eddie can help it.

'What?' Steve gives him another confused look.

'I mean, don't get me wrong, you're looking insanely hot right now, but... Why are you dressed like we're about to go to the opera?'

'Meeting the parents for the first time, gotta make a good impression!'

'You already met Wayne,' Eddie blankly points out.

'I didn't meet him as your boyfriend, though.' Your boyfriend. It feels fucking unreal to hear Steve say that. And judging by the way it makes Eddie's stomach all floaty and his mouth unable to stop smiling, it's gonna be very bad for that scary metal image he's been working so hard on crafting for himself.

'He's already, like, your number one fan,' Eddie says. 'You need to fuck up real bad to not make a good impression here.'

An adorably relieved look crosses Steve's face at those words.

Eddie squints at Steve's clothes, from the baby-blue button-down to the neatly polished fancy shoes that already got completely ruined by the muddy trailer park ground.

'Dude, you know where we are, right?' he says. 'Just – take a look around you. Do you think we are the kind of people that care about formal clothing and fucking flowers? We were barely able to fit a third chair around the dinner table, we're literally gonna be eating canned macaroni.'

Steve furrows his brows. 'Are you trying to scare me off?'

'No, I'm just giving you the facts. Because you look like you were expecting cloth napkins and, I dunno, maybe the Queen of England.'

'Not really. Just wanted to do it properly.' He shrugs lightly and suddenly seems smaller, like Eddie is not the only one who sometimes gets overwhelmed by figuring out this whole relationship thing they have going on. 'It's important to me. And honestly, your uncle deserves even more respect than the Queen of England, for getting you into my life, you know.'

And Jesus, if that isn't enough to make Eddie melt into a puddle right on the spot... He hopes Steve doesn't notice how rapidly he's suddenly blinking.

'So, you gonna take these or not?'

Steve holds out the flowers, almost hesitant, like he's half expecting Eddie to refuse them. As if he could ever refuse anything Steve would gift him.

'Why thank you, my darling,' Eddie says with a bow. 'You're actually the first guy who ever brought me flowers.' He lets his fingers linger around Steve's as he takes the bouquet from him.

A soft smile crosses Steve’s face. 'And you're the first guy I ever brought flowers to.' He still doesn’t pull his hands away, but instead leans in closer to give Eddie a peck on his lips. And maybe, just maybe, there's something about the whole thing – the jacket, the flowers, the sweetness – that Eddie could actually get used to.

'You wanna get inside and say hi to my uncle?'

'I'd love to. Can't wait to thank him properly for being the greatest matchmaker on earth.'

'Please don't tell him that,' Eddie says with a chuckle. 'He really doesn't need any more encouragement. I'm pretty sure he's already scheming to set up a queer dating agency or some shit.'

‘You should know by now I can hear everything you're sayin' from here!’ Wayne’s voice yells from inside the trailer.

Steve grins as Eddie grabs his hand tighter to lead him inside.

‘It wouldn't hurt you to show him some more support in following his dreams, you know,’ he mumbles to Eddie under his breath.

‘Jesus H. Christ, I can’t believe you’re already teaming up with him to bully me before you even met him!’

He should probably be mad about it, but Steve squeezes his hand and gives him such a precious smile that the only thing he can do is smile back at him.

Holy shit creating this silly little AU has honestly been such a wild ride thanks to all your reactions to it, i can’t say enough how happy all those notifications have made me and I still can’t believe there were SO MANY OF YOU who asked to follow along!!<3333

Taglist: @phantypurple @love-kurdtt @eddiemunsonswife @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @swimmingbirdrunningrock @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @yourebuckingkiddingme @th3-r4t-k1ng @messrs-weasley @moonshadows-13 @im-sam-fucking-winchester @xjessicafaithx @yournowheregirl @henderdads @lwhoscribbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @rainydays35  @cassaloopa @skeliiix @thesuninyaface @silversnaffles @jestyzesty @4nemo1egend @ace-of-foxes @harringtonsgother @thegingervulcan @snapshotmaestro @thereindeerlady @jillfriend @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gamerdano @spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @00biscuit @mixsethaddams @steve-the-hairrington @episcogoth @caligularib @gaydrieeen @winterbuckwild @bookbinderbitch @daysarestranger @nonbinary-eddie-munson @fangirltofangod @solalasoforth @obsessivlyme @slit-wrist @fxndom-hoe @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @joruni @roastingdragon @lenore1232 @princessstevemunson @cuips-not-cute @munsonsuccubus @justalittlefungi @cherrycolas-things @nitrilexam @thepainisspicy @hopefulslothcollecter @whatisreggieshortfor @doctorqueensanatomy @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sadcanadianwinter @iamsotiredman @orangeandthefairroadkill @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @b-icetea @freddykicksasses @faery-god @poleaxed-aloe @mamaclownhunter @paperbackribs @blvckwidow @mightbeasleep @butuglypeoplefucktoo @lolawon @angryavocadofrog @iwouldsail @livelaughlexa @magpiemuseum @shushuac  @ravnlinn @homohomohoe @kissaphobic-kas @cmackz93 @your-greatest-queen @alltheweirdkidsinoneplace @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @ceaselessly-watching @anaibis @enchantedlandcoffee @fluffy-alpaca-of-darkness @nelotegreitic @mollymawkwrites @evix-syne666 @redfreckledwolf @ajamlessbaby @connected-dots @nothisisntmyname @steddieassheg0es @anxiouseds @summer1066 @loopholesinmydreams @mareydi  @lillemilly @this-is-moony-lovegood @qomrades @mad-h-w @gay-stranger-things @blanketlicker @fandomcartographer @adankrivervalleynearyou @undreamingscatworld @theysherobinbuckley @i-wanna-combust @stranger-poets-society  @fanshipgirl88 @nonhetbts @literallyjustarat @knitsforthetrail @limpingpenguin @spoopy-rayvynnnox @impeachy @ashwinmeird @7boxesofcheerios @nonsense-of-dimitri @azreadytodie @fuctacles @fuzzyduxk @pluto-pepsi @bornonthesavage @what-am-i-doing-with-my-non-life @alanna342 @jinxjinn @ali-just-ali @piningapple @captain-daryn @namelessssho @doltclassic @elsarenard @ramyayaya @my-heart-is-stopped @lightwoodbanethings @goblin-eddie @indie-npc @alienace @satan-is-obsessed @booksandscience @shrimply-a-menace @hammity-hammer @mits-ki @sharingisntkaren @dbquills @electrick-marionnett @thecherryslush @nuttychaosface @grtwdsmwhr @ceph-the-mothman @gay-little-bitch @brassreign @ninjapirateunicorns @quickenedheartbeat @infrogulous @breealtair @hellomynameismoo @ecarliethic @sultrypickle @lovelyscot @ladydorian05

#100% back on my bullshit for this last one #(the bullshit being a fuckton of fluff) #also i needed eddie being a lil weirdo and steve reacting to that with the exact face he made upon seeing the jazzercise instructor dude #for my own sanity #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #fruity ficlet

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eight

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Fluff, A smidgen of angst, Truths revealed, Kind of smut (heavy petting and making out), Magic, Supernatural elements.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: It's been a hot minute since we've heard from Skipper and Jake! I hope you all enjoy this chapter because it was actually a real struggle to finish for some reason. Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You had always loved mermaids. You had always wondered what it must be like to live as half human and half fish, swimming beneath the blue waves of the sea and singing beautiful songs for everyone to hear. You wondered what it would be like to coast your fingers across the rocks and corals, interacting with the creatures below. Were there cities like Atlantica down there that only the merpeople knew about? Or did they migrate like whales?

“You know mermaids aren’t real, honey, right?” Your mother had asked you one day, brow furrowed in concern. You had let out a sigh that only a thirteen-year-old beginning their journey into the reality of life could give.

“Yeah, Mom,” you had frowned, looking out the window and onto the waters of the lake below. “I know.”

“Have you thought about maybe redecorating your room?” She continued, picking up your porcelain mermaid and eyeing it with vague distaste. You glanced over at her, turning to face her slightly.

“I like my things,” you grumbled, pressing your lips into a thin line. “They’re my treasures. And what’s wrong with liking mermaids and the ocean?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” she had sighed, setting it down. “Maybe it’s just time for you to start thinking about more serious things, is all.”

She gave you one last smile before walking out of the room, leaving you to ponder over her words.

Weeks later, her words still floated in your head, and you had relayed the conversation to your grandmother, your mother’s mother, one day as you sat in her living room. She had scowled, shaking her head and fixing you with a fierce look.

“Now you listen to me, young lady,” she groused. “Your mother means well, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. There’s magic in this world, believe you me, and it’s a rare person who continues to believe and see it. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and one day you’ll see the truth.”

And one day had finally come.

The waves crashed against the shore with a deafening sound, the wind whipping your hair about your face where it rested atop your knees, and the rock beneath you was vaguely damp, causing goosebumps to run up and down your skin. You had been out there for hours, needing time to come to reconcile what you thought you knew with what you now knew.

The scene on the beach earlier that morning replayed in your mind. The song, falling into the water, Mandy. It was a wonder you hadn’t run for the hills.

You had stood on the beach, soaked to the bone as the rest of the group stared at you like some kind of wild animal, like you might lash out at them at the most sudden of movements.

“Skip,” Bradley had started slowly, taking a small step towards where you stood, feet planted as firmly as they could be in the shifting sand. Your shoulders were drawn back, attempting to make yourself seem more confident than you actually were. In truth, you were still terrified, the adrenaline from your near death experience still running through your veins as your eyes darted the small group gathered around. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and it was an oddly cold, summer morning, and you fought the shiver that threatened to run up your spine. “Honey, it’s not that we don’t think you’re ready to know…”

He trailed off as you narrowed your eyes at him, anger starting to course through you. Bob cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him.

“It’s just that you’ve been through a lot in the past hour,” he explained with a grimace. “We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Yeah!” Chirped Mickey. “Besides, you’re still wet, and we wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything.”

“Mickey is right,” Nat smiled gently, “you should get changed out of these clothes.”

She moved to grab your arm, but you shifted away, fixing her with a glare before your eyes once again shifted towards the other members.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you hissed, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “Stop treating me like I’m some child.”

Your eyes connected with familiar green ones, and your anger instantly dissipated into a sense of pleading. Jake stared back at you, face unreadable as he took you in. After a moment, he walked towards you, and you didn’t even think about stopping him as he stopped in front of you. He raised a hand, running his thumb lightly over the apple of your cheek, and you felt yourself relax into his touch.

“They’re right,” he said softly. You immediately stiffened, opening your mouth to say something, but he cut you off.

“I promise you, that we will tell you what you want to know. But for now,” he pauses, running his eyes up and down your form, grimacing at the sight of you. “For now, you need to go change into some dry clothes. We can talk more after, okay?”

You stared up at him for a moment, studying him. His eyes bore into yours, not a hint of deceit resting in them. Slowly, you nodded, and he let out a relieved sigh, squeezing your shoulders slightly.

“There’s my good girl,” he smiled, running his hands down your arms before releasing you. You preened at his words, feeling your cheeks warm as you glanced away.

“Okay,” Nat sighed, a relieved smile on her own face. “Now that that’s decided, let’s all head home to change and then we can regroup later.”

Bob had escorted you back home, leaving before you had finished your shower. So, you had walked, and you found yourself where you sat now, on the rocks just past Jake and Bradley’s house on the beach, the sky a dismal grey as the seagulls cried. No one was answering your texts, and while it annoyed you to no end to know that they were probably trying to come up with a way to get out of telling you, you remained secure in the fact that Jake had promised you they would tell you the truth. You let out a long sigh, trying to ease some of the tension out of your shoulders.

“Wasn’t expecting to find you right here.”

You jumped, whirling around to see the familiar green of Jake’s eyes as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, moving to sit next to you. His shoulder brushed yours in the process, and you inhaled a gasp, hoping he hadn’t heard you.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I was just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“Care to share?”

“As if you don’t already know what they were about,” you scoffed, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips. He chuckled, nodding slowly.

“You’re right.”

“What are you doing out here, Jake?” You asked. He let out a breath, rolling his shoulders back before answering.

“The others are still debating on what we should tell you, or what you can handle knowing right now. I snuck out to come and find you.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, listening to the different sounds around you. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating whether or not to break the calm between the two of you.

“I wasn’t dreaming,” you breathed, peering over at him. “Was I?”

Jake let out a sigh, leaning back against his arms as he continued to stare out into the ocean.

“You’ve heard the stories the older folks tell, right?” He asked finally, meeting your gaze. You nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.

“Well,” he started, looking back out at the water. “They’re all true.”

A beat passed.

“All of them?” You questioned, looking down and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You thought back to all of the things Mrs. Cambroni had told you. “Even the frenzy?”

Jake’s eyes grew wide, and his cheeks turned a brilliant red. He cleared his throat, looking away as he muttered, “Yes, even the frenzy.”

“What’s it like?”

“What?” He blinked, eyes still wide but holding confusion instead of shock.

“What’s the frenzy like,” you pressed, leaning in closer to him. He stared at you for another second before answering.

“It feels like a constant itch underneath my skin. A heat that I can’t dampen no matter what I do. It drives me crazier the older I get.”

“Is it dangerous?” You whisper.

“It can be,” he admitted slowly. “If we don’t take a mate before a certain time, then the magic becomes stronger because there’s nothing to siphon it in to. Mates help with controlling the magic, and our magic grows the older we get. If we don’t take a mate, then the magic will drive us crazy.”

“When does that happen?”

“There’s no real set number of frenzies you go through before it happens. For some, they can’t make it through their third one before they go crazy. For others, it could be their fourth or fifth one.”

“What about you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a second you were worried that you had upset him with how still he was sitting.

“Me?” He chuckled humorlessly, drawing patterns on the rock beneath the two of you. “I can already feel my control slipping sometimes this go around, especially when I’m around you. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, brow furrowing. “I cause your control to slip? Why?”

Jake stared at you, eyes widening once again when he realized what he had said. He shook his head.

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “You promised me that you would be honest and tell me what I wanted to know.”

He looked a little taken aback, but let out another sigh as he relented.

“Sea people have what they call ‘true mates,’” he began, “and they’re different from regular mates. True mates are an ideal pair, one the powers that be have ordained as a perfect match. Everyone can take a mate, sure, but very few ever find their true mate. They’re so rare, in fact, that some people think it’s just a myth.”

“Do you?” You asked. “Think it’s a myth, I mean.”

He stared at you for a beat.

“I used to,” he admitted. “I used to think that true mates were just some sappy fairytale that people clung to to make themselves feel better. I used to laugh at the idea, actually. It wasn’t until-”

He stopped, clamping his mouth closed as his cheeks tinged red once again. You furrowed your brow at him.

“Until what?” You pressed. He swallowed thickly, turning to look out at the water.

“Until I met you,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. You let out a small gasp, but waited for him to continue.

“The first night I saw you in that bar, Skipper, I knew. I knew with everything in me that you were the one that I had been looking and waiting for my entire life. You were the one in my dreams growing up. You were the one I could feel in my chest, pulling me towards you. You were the one that made me realize that I could be happy, that I didn’t have to settle for a life that other people had decided for me.”

You stared at him, registering the look of vulnerability on his face, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“I dreamed about you too,” you admitted, causing him to look back at you. “Or, at least I think I did. And I always felt like something was incomplete, like a piece of me was always missing. But when I sit here with you, things just feel…right.”

“Right?” He pressed, leaning in so that your noses were practically brushing each other.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your heartbeat picking up at the close proximity. “Like things aren’t so hard when you’re around. Like I don’t even have to try. Things just feel easy around you, and if I’m being honest, that kind of scares me.”

He hummed, resting his forehead against yours, warm breath running over your face as he breathed out.

“It scares me too,” he said, closing his eyes, his hand reaching out to curl around yours where it rested atop the rock. “My whole life I thought I knew what would happen. I would marry Mandy, I would go work with my father at his business, we’d pop out a couple of kids, and then the rest of life would happen. I’d die in my bed of old age, surrounded by the people that I love having lived a life that anyone would be proud of.”

“And now?” You asked, squeezing his hand. He took a shuddering breath before opening his eyes. You were almost taken aback by how beautiful they were. Swirling shades of sea glass green mixed with darker emerald, a look of pure longing on his face as he stared at you.

“Now, I know that’s not what I want,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be with Mandy. I don’t want to have the pristine, picture perfect family you find in commercials or magazines. I just want you, Skipper. I want you in any way that you’ll have me.”

His eyes were glowing now, the mossy green standing out against the growing darkness of the storm clouds that were rolling in from the sea.

“Your eyes,” you breathed, raising your unoccupied hand to run your fingers across his cheek. “They’re glowing. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.”

Jake nuzzled into the palm of your hand, humming low in his throat as he breathed you in. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a chaste kiss in the center of your palm, and your breath hitched. You shifted, leaning in close enough that your lips hovered just over his. His eyes once again connected with yours, boring into you as if he could see every single part that you kept hidden. Your gaze dropped down to his lips for a brief second before darting back up. Eyes hooded, you leaned in, lips barely grazing his before jumping back as the rain started.

The drops came in a downpour, instantly soaking the two of you as you let out a startled laugh.

“Come on!” Jake grinned, gripping your hand and helping you off the rocks before the two of you sprinted towards his house. You trotted up the steps after him, letting out another peel of breathless laughter as the two of you caught your breath. You looked out at the beach as it continued to pour, a peel of thunder cracking through the roar of the rain. You turned back to look at Jake with a smile, shaking your head.

“The rain didn’t even build up to-”

Jake’s lips were soft on yours, pressing firmly as he cupped your cheek in his hand. You froze, taken by surprise. He pulled back after a second, eyes uncertain as they watched you.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, eyes growing wide with panic. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought after the rocks and you were standing there looking so pretty, I just-”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, and he stiffened for a second before returning it. His hands landed on your waist, backing you up against the pillar by the stairs as his lips moved against yours in a heated bid to feel every part of you. Your own hands moved to tangle in his hair, pulling on the still wet strands gently and earning a groan from him. His tongue traced your lower lip, and you instantly opened up to him, relishing in the feeling of the muscle against your own.

Jake’s grip tightened on your waist before moving his right hand up to grope at your breast, squeezing it with a low groan. You moaned into his mouth, one hand releasing his hair to slide down and grip at his shoulder as you pressed against him. He continued to lick languidly into your mouth, savoring the taste of you and every little sound you made. He pulled away to allow you to breathe, nipping at your bottom lip gently. As you sucked in a lungful of air, he busied himself with pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head to the side to allow him better access, and you felt him smirk against you as his left hand grabbed your thigh to wrap your leg around him. You could feel the hard bulge press against you, and a tingle ran up your spine.

“Jake,” you breathed out, head thrown back as he nipped at your skin, running his tongue over the same spot to soothe the sting. His lips worked lower and lower as you began to roll your hips against his. You let out a strangled cry as his lips connected with the intention mark on your neck, pleasure rippling through your veins as you gripped onto him and ground down harder onto him. Jake nipped at the mark, causing you to let out another cry as your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders through his shirt. You could feel your arousal dripping from you as your mind grew heavy with lust.

Suddenly, Jake pushed away from you, practically throwing himself across the porch. You whined at the loss, brow furrowed in confusion as you took in the state of him. He was panting hard, almost crouched as he gripped the porch railing to steady himself. His eyes were still glowing, brighter than they were previously, but fading in and out as he calmed down.

“Jake,” you murmured, “are you okay?”

“Not like this,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“What are you talking about? Jake, you’re worrying me.”

He looked at you then, taking in your disheveled state as he righted himself. A mixture of regret and longing adorned his face as he spoke.

“I gave that mark to you during a moment of frenzy,” he admitted, gesturing to the bite in question. “I was so scared that you weren’t going to make it, and the frenzy magic was already in overdrive. I gave it to you without thinking, and I’m sorry.”

“Jake,” you said slowly, taking small steps towards him as if you might scare him off otherwise. “I’m not mad about that at all, but why are you suddenly acting this way?”

“Because,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “because I already told you. I want you, Skipper, and I want you to want me back. I want to know that you want me for me and not because of some damn magic that tells us we’re supposed to be together.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing what he was telling you. It was true that you felt a pull towards him that could only be explained by the magic, but it felt so much more than that. Jake was sweet and kind, and he cared for you. He made sure that you were taken care of when you were vulnerable, and he wanted to hear your opinions on things. You did want Jake beyond the magic, but you were more than willing to take the time to prove that to him.

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Can we,” he swallowed thickly, eyes hopeful as they searched you. “Can we take it a little slow? Maybe spend some time alone together?”

“You mean like on dates?” You smiled, standing in front of him now and batting your lashes at him. A grin tugged on the corner of his lips as he looked down at you, giving you a nod.

“Yeah. I want to take you out on a date.”

“Just the one?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, a full-blown grin on his face now.

“Well, I was hoping you’d give me more than just that,” he teased back, leaning into you again. You tapped a finger on your chin thoughtfully.

“I dunno,” you hummed, fighting back the smile that threatened to overtake you. “I guess we’ll just have to see how the first one goes, won’t we?”

“I have full confidence in myself that I’ll be able to convince you of that second date.”

“Come on, Crooner,” you laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the front door. “Let’s get changed before we catch a cold or something.”

About a half hour later, you were dressed in a pair of oversized sweats and an old t-shirt - both belonging to Jake. The two of you were huddled up on the couch underneath a blanket, some random movie thrown on to fill the silence. Your legs were curled under you as you rested against Jake’s side, his arms wrapped around you as you played with his fingers.

“You bit him?” You huffed out a laugh as Jake chuckled. “Why?”

“Because Bradley gets a little big for his britches sometimes,” Jake defended. “He knew I had an interest in you and what we were, and he still pressed his luck. Even with the mark on your neck. ”

“Boys,” you exclaimed with a roll of your eyes. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the movie continued to drone on in the background.

“Jake,” you hummed thoughtfully, “do you regret giving me this mark?”

He stiffened against you, and you chanced a glance up at him. His lips were pressed into a firm line, brow furrowed as he looked at you.

“Absolutely not,” he bit out. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just,” you hesitated, still fidgeting with his fingers as you looked down, “it’s just been one thing after the other since you gave it to me. Am I really worth the trouble?”

“Skipper,” he said firmly, cupping your jaw and making you look at him. “I will never regret you, okay? Even if you decide that this isn’t something you want, I will live the rest of my life knowing that I had the privilege of having you even for a moment.”

His eyes were sincere as they held your gaze, and you suddenly felt silly for doubting him. You nodded, willing the tears that prickled behind your eyes to go away. You sniffed before settling back down against him, basking in the feeling of him stroking a hand through your hair.

“Jake! We can’t find Skipper anywh-”

You jumped as the front door burst open to reveal your friends, Bob at the front of the pack. All of you stared at one another before you raised an eyebrow at them.

“Are you coming in or not?” You snapped, fixing them all with a glare. Jake turned the TV off as the squad filed in, taking seats wherever there was one available. Once everyone was settled, you continued.

“Finally decide on how you’re going to lie to me some more? Whatever you came up with, I sure hope it’s better than the ones you were telling me before.”

The group had the decency to look ashamed. Bob gave you an apologetic look as he faced you from where he sat in one of the recliners.

“We never wanted to lie to you, Y/n,” he explained. “But would you have believed the truth?”

“I might have,” you countered. “You could have at least tried.”

“Would you trust an outsider that you barely knew with a secret like this?” Javy chimed in. He made a good point, and your silence answered for you.

“I wanted to tell you, Skipper,” Bob continued, “but it wasn’t my secret to tell. And with all the stuff between you and Jake, it just seemed like it would be so much to throw at you.”

“I get that,” you conceded, nodding slowly. “But Jake’s already told me most of everything, so no more lying to me, okay? I need to know and be kept in the loop moving forward okay?”

Everyone looked at each other before nodding at you. You gave them a small smile before letting out a relieved breath.

“Good,” you chirped. “Now that that’s settled, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starved.”

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[nastybuckybarnes]

Riding Lessons  -  Three

Pairing: Dbf!Bucky X Reader X Dbf!Steve

Summary: You and Wanda make plans to head to your family’s cabin for the weekend. The only problem? That’s the exact same weekend that your dad and his friends were planning to go out there. It’s fine, though, there’s plenty of room for all of you, right? What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Language, Light Angst, Fluff, Smut (oral (f/m receiving), face riding, fingering, hair-pulling, spanking, face fucking, degradation, rough stuff, breeding kink, slight voyeurism, name calling, little bit of cockwarming), Aftercare, Age Gap (Reader is 21, Bucky is mid-forties),

Word Count: 5.5K

A/n: My first post since my little disappearance lol. I hope you guys like this and I’m hoping to actually start posting on a bit of a schedule, but I’ve always been a hot mess so we’ll see lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I love you all very much!

Part one  Part Two

~*~

“Ah! There you are, perfect timing. I was just about to call you!” Your dad says with a smile as you and Wanda walk into the house.

“Yeah, we just finished yoga,” you explain, stopping at the front door as your dad and Bucky walk toward you and your friend.

You’re both drenched in sweat, hair matted and clothes sticking to your body after an intense hot yoga class.

“You gonna be okay here by yourself this weekend? Bucky, Steve and I are heading up to the cabin.”

You frown and shake your head, trying to avoid looking at Bucky because you know you won’t be able to play it cool if you meet his eyes.

“Wanda and I were supposed to go to the cabin this weekend, remember? I told you on Monday.”

Bucky watches as you and your father discuss this weekend, his eyes devouring your figure.

You look good enough to eat in your sweaty yoga clothes, and he needs to discretely adjust his boner as he watches a drop of sweat bury itself in your cleavage. God, he wishes he could lick it up and then fuck you till you’re crying.

He’d give you a better workout than any yoga instructor ever could.

“You ladies can still come this weekend. Us old farts are gonna be watching the game and fishing for most of the weekend, so you ladies will be free to sunbathe and paint your nails and talk about boys all you want.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, accentuating your bust and making it so much harder for Bucky to keep his cool.

“Is that really what you think we do all day?” You ask, sass dripping from your voice.

A smile tugs at the corner of Bucky’s mouth when your eyes finally meet his, and he can see you swallow hard and squeeze your soft thighs together.

“I’m okay to go, still,” Wanda pipes in, smiling encouragingly at you when you raise your eyebrows.

“You don’t have to, Wanda. Don’t feel pressured just because they're standing right there,” You whisper, though secretly all you want is to go because Bucky and Steve are gonna be there.

The memory of the last time you saw both of them together has been playing in your head since the barbecue.

Steve’s eager tongue between your legs, lapping up the mess that Bucky made and not stopping until his face was just as messy.

His beard glistened in the sun when the three of you finally made it back outside, and he couldn't wipe the grin from his face.

All the while, Bucky kept shooting you knowing glances, letting you know that that wouldn’t be the end of things.

She shakes her head and smiles again, “it’ll still be fun. Besides, now we won’t have to worry about anyone breaking in and killing us like in that movie we watched.”

You groan and shake your head, but a grin finds your lips anyway.

Perfect.

A weekend with your best friend and the two men who practically own you. What more could a girl ask for?

~*~

“Okay, ladies! You two are gonna be sharing the room down the hall. If you get up at all during the night and see someone on the couch, don’t panic. It’s just this big lug,” your dad says with a grin, patting Steve’s shoulder.

The blond man grins at you, mischief in his eyes, then looks over at where Bucky stands, his eyes focused on yours.

You swallow hard and nod, grabbing Wanda’s hand and tugging her toward what’s going to be your bedroom for the weekend.

“Oh. My. God!” She exclaims as soon as the door’s closed, a wicked grin on her face.

You groan loudly and collapse on the bed.

“I told you!” You grumble, shaking your head in disbelief.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you’re regretting coming to the cabin with them.

“They were pretty much fucking you with their eyes the whole time! And your and your dad really has no idea?” She asks in a whisper, sitting next to you on the bed and poking your shoulder until you look at her.

“He has no clue, dude. Fuck, this was a mistake. I’m not gonna be able to survive the weekend. I’m not. I’m gonna die. I’m going to explode or dad's gonna find out or-”

“Stop overreacting! If you guys haven’t been caught after the whole barbecue thing, I doubt you’re gonna get caught at all. Have fun. You’re only young once, and those guys are hot as fuck. If you don’t fuck them this weekend then I’m going to.”

You roll your eyes but push yourself into a seated position anyway.

“Fuck, I guess you’re right. It’ll be fine. They’re not gonna be obvious about it, right?”

Wanda nods and roots through her suitcase to find her bathing suit

“Right. Now, let's go get some sun!”

~*~

Wrong.

You were wrong.

You were so fucking wrong.

You and Wanda are lying down on the lounge chairs on the patio of the cabin overlooking the lake, iced teas beside you and soft music playing, when they walk by.

Each of them clad only in their swim trunks, thick muscular bodies on display for your hungry eyes.

You can’t help but devour them, and they’re not discreet in doing the same to you.

Bucky goes so far as to stand directly in front of your lounge chair, a smile on his lips as he takes in the sight of your beautiful body draped in only a red bikini.

“You ladies put sunblock on?” Steve asks, his eyes focusing on your cleavage for a moment before returning to your face.

You shake your head, “that kind of defeats the whole purpose of getting some sun, Steve.”

Bucky leans down slightly and trails his fingers over your inner calf, stopping above your knee and then tapping your inner thigh gently.

“You want some help putting it on, crybaby? Hmm?”

You inhale sharply, thighs squeezing together but he grabs the flesh quickly, giving you a stern look.

Your eyes flicker over his shoulder to Steve, whose gaze is focused on you as Bucky brings his hand up to grab your face. He leans closer, his lips grazing your cheek for just a moment before his teeth nip at your ear.

“You gonna ride my face when your dad falls asleep tonight, princess?”

You nod immediately, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly pulls away.

“You guys comin’ or what?” Your dad’s voice calls from around the side of the cabin.

Bucky steps back and rises to his full height, adjusting his boner then plastering a stunning smile on his handsome face.

“Yeah! Just got caught up.”

They both take their leave, each glancing over their shoulder at you before disappearing around the house.

It’s quiet for a long moment before Wanda whistles lowly.

“I don’t know how you’re not melted into a puddle right now. If either of those men did that to me I’d probably die on the spot. Like, I don’t understand how you do it. You’re one lucky bitch, I’ll tell you that much.”

You take a deep breath and sink an inch lower in the lounge chair, heart racing and eyes squeezed shut.

“Wanda, I don’t think I’m gonna survive this,” you confess, bringing your hands up to cover your face.

She giggles and shakes her head at you, relaxing in the lounge chair.

“Why not have fun with it? I mean, they clearly are. Might as well give it right back to them,” she notes.

You slowly pull your hands away from your face and look over at her, intrigue written across your face.

“I’m just saying that two -or, three I guess- can play this game. They wanna tease you? Tease ‘em right back. I’m sure whatever they have in store for you after will be worth it anyway, so might as well have fun.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip for a moment, pondering her words.

“But how? I don’t wanna be obvious and have my dad find out.”

She shrugs, “just do little things. We’ve got popsicles in the freezer, right? Go offer them one.” She punctuates her sentence with a wink and you feel a smile creep across your face.

You rise off of the lounge chair and nearly trip over yourself in your haste to get inside and grab a popsicle.

You pull it out of the wrapping and lather it with saliva, then head to the bathroom to adjust your bikini top in the mirror.

Once you’re positive that you look good enough to eat, you make your way back outside, smiling at Wanda when she laughs as you pass by.

You follow the path that Steve and Bucky took around the side of the cabin where your dad keeps all the fishing gear, wrapping your lips around the popsicle and sucking the sweet taste into your mouth when you finally catch a glimpse of the two men.

“Hey, kiddo. Everything okay?” Your dad asks, not looking up from the supplies he’s gathering.

“Yeah, everything’s good. I just wanted to see if any of you wanted a popsicle.” You drag your tongue up the underside of the popsicle right as Bucky and Steve lift their gazes to you, and the look on their faces says it all.

Steve stays quiet, but Bucky takes a step towards you and cocks his head to the side.

“I’m okay for now, darling. I’ve already got a sweet treat planned after dinner. Don’t wanna have too much now.”

The way his eyes rake over your figure has you feeling the ghost of his touch between your legs, and your thighs clench. Something that does not go unnoticed by the two of them.

You bat your eyelashes innocently at the two of them, taking the popsicle deep in your throat for a moment and humming around it before pulling it back out.

A string of saliva connects your lips and the popsicle for a long moment before you lick your lips, and you grin when the two men adjust themselves in their swim trunks.

“Okay. Just wanted to come and offer. Do you want anything, Steve?” You turn pointedly toward the blond, your free hand stroking your breasts through your bikini top, playing with your hardened nipple for a moment before dropping down to rest at your side.

Steve swallows hard and gives you a look that has a shiver racing down your spine.

“I’m good, sweetheart, thank you. Might take you up on that later though.” His dark eyes tell you that he wants your lips wrapped around something other than the popsicle, and you giggle softly.

“Okay. If you fellas change your mind just let me know. I don’t mind bringing them out to you.” You lick up the popsicle one last time before turning on your heel and walking away, your ass bouncing with every step you take and you can feel them watching you.

“All right boys, let's get this boat out in the water!”

~*~

The rest of the afternoon is peaceful, with your dad and his friends fishing and you and Wanda enjoying the sun while the ache between your legs only worsens.

By the time dinner’s on the table, you’re beyond ready to deal with your aching clit on your own, but one look at the two delicious men at the table and you halt those thoughts in their tracks.

Your dad sits at one end of the table and Bucky sits at the other, with you and Wanda between them on one side and Steve seated across from the two of you.

With a pile of steaming food on your plate, you find yourself hungry for something else, unable to concentrate on the conversations going on around you as your mind wanders to all the dirty things these men could do to you. All the things they plan on doing to you.

Lifting your eyes slowly, you watch Steve as he talks to Wanda about some science thing she’s working on in school.

Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you slowly raise your foot and straighten your leg under the table, watching the way his lips quirk upward when your foot caresses his calf.

You slowly drag your foot upwards until you reach his thigh, then dare to move further watching him closely as you stroke the bulge in his pants.

His hips move forward the tiniest bit and he clears his throat, shifting his weight and shooting you a glance, daring you to continue.

You can’t help but grin, taking a sip of your drink and stroking him again.

Your eyes flutter over to the man on your right and you almost choke on your drink at the way he’s looking at you.

He’s obviously aware of what you’re doing, and you have to stop yourself from giggling.

You tease Steve beneath the table for the rest of the meal, stroking his hard cock through the fabric of his shorts and relishing in the way he looks at you. Promising a punishment that you’re beyond excited for.

~*~

“Okay folks, you guys ready?” Your dad shouts from the doc, Steve beside him helping set up the fireworks.

You and Wanda both cheer, excited about the fireworks.

They begin setting them off and the two of you watch in awe as your attention is captured.

“I’m gonna go down on the swing to watch, wanna come?” Wanda asks, stepping towards the stairs leading down to the porch swing.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna grab a sweater.”

She nods and heads down to the swing.

As you turn to the cabin to get a sweater, you freeze in your tracks.

Bucky’s leaning against the sliding glass door, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and his dark eyes trained on you.

“B-Bucky. I didn’t hear you come out.”

You mentally curse yourself for being reduced to a stuttering mess whenever he's around.

“You had fun with Steve, huh?”

You swallow hard and lick your lips, unsure of how to proceed.

He pushes off the door and steps toward you, forcing you to back up until your back hits the railing of the deck.

You’re trapped between the wood and his hard body and you don’t know what to do.

“You’ve been teasing us all day, crybaby. That’s not something a good girl does, is it?”

You tilt your head back to look at him as the fireworks explode overhead, his eyes illuminated for a brief moment before darkness masks his face once again.

“I was just returning the favour, James.”

Hearing you say his name has his cock standing at attention and fuck, he loves hearing it come from your pretty lips.

“Oh yeah? And what’s your plan now? Because, the way I see it, he and I have every right to do whatever we want to this sweet, tight body of yours. I could spin you around, bend you over, and fuck your cute little cunt till you’re crying. Right outside in front of your friend and your dad. Is that what you want, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he’s already got you spun around and bent slightly over the railing of the deck.

You inhale sharply, hands grabbing at the wood as another firework bursts overhead.

His fingers trail between your thighs beneath your dress, and he lets out a soft curse when he finds you bare and wet for him.

“You’re really playing with fire here, crybaby, you know that?” He whispers, his lips trailing over your neck as his fingers slowly slide through your folds.

You bite your lip to keep yourself quiet, eyes focused on where your dad and Steve are.

All the way down at the dock.

Surely too far away to make out exactly what’s going on.

Bucky’s fingers find your clit and you gasp, hips automatically pushing back into his hand, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re so easy, crybaby. I can play you like a fucking fiddle. Do you have any idea how easy it is for me to make you cum? For me to have you begging and crying?”

You hum softly, rocking your hips in time with his fingers.

“Maybe you should remind me,” you whisper, wanting nothing more than to cum after how wound up you’ve been all day.

He laughs softly, his fingers not slowing as he nuzzles his nose into your hair.

“Is that what you want, baby? You want me to make you cum? Wanna cream all over my fingers like the good little slut I know you are?”

You nod eagerly, your body wound tight and ready for the sweet release you know he can bring you.

He chuckles quietly and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, then grabs a handful of your hair and yanks your head back until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Good girls get to cum. Bad girls get punished. Meet me in the living room at one and you’ll get what you deserve, princess.”

With that, he releases you and takes a step away, then bounds down the stairs and onto the grass, giving Wanda a wink on his way.

You stay leaning against the railing, breathing hard and squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

These two are gonna be the death of you. But what a way to go.

~*~

You toss and turn all night, unable to get even a wink of sleep as you count down the minutes until 1am.

Eventually, the clock strikes one, but you find yourself paralyzed with fear and anticipation.

What will they do to you?

What if your dad finds out?

Oh god, this can’t end well.

Finally mustering up your courage, and using the cover of just needing a glass of water, you venture out of your room and slowly make your way through the cabin.

The lights in the living room are off, and you let out a sigh of relief.

They probably got the hint after waiting for fifteen minutes.

Disappointment and relief play tug-of-war with your heart as you get yourself a glass of water from the kitchen.

At least now you’ll probably be able to finally get some sleep. Just as soon as you deal with your aching clit.

“You know, Steve didn’t think you’d show. But I knew you’d make it.”

You tense up at the sound of his smooth voice, searching for the source of it in the darkness of the room.

“And, though I’m glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence, punctuality is important to me.” His voice slowly gets closer until you can make out the outline of his body in the darkness.

“I-I’m sorry,” you try softly, setting your glass down and bracing your hands on the counter behind your back.

“After all the teasing today? No, you’re not. But you will be.” His firm hands find your waist with ease, and then he’s spinning you around and bending you over across the kitchen island.

You huff out a surprised gasp when a second set of hands pushes your hair away from your face.

“How are we gonna punish our sweet girl, Buck?” Steve’s voice asks from in front of you.

You swallow hard as the oversized shirt you’re wearing gets pushed up your back, your panties yanked down your thighs next.

“Hmm...” Bucky acts as if he’s thinking as his hands caress the globes of your ass, but he already knows what he’s got planned for you.

“How about... one for every minute you were late?” He punctuates his question with a particularly rough smack to your ass, and you yelp softly only for Steve to cover your mouth with his large hand.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” the blond agrees.

Without giving you any warning, the brunet’s hand comes down hard on your ass again, and you jolt away from the pain as much as you’re able to from your position on the counter.

He spanks you again, then again, and twice more after that, and pretty soon tears are prickling at your eyes and the ache between your thighs has morphed into a throb.

You’re mumbling pleas and apologies into Steve’s hand, and both men can’t help but coo at how adorable you look.

With each strike of his hand against your ass, you crawl closer and closer to the edge, your climax just out of reach when he finally whispers ‘fifteen’.

“Good girl. There you go, you pretty little thing. Took it like a champ,” Bucky praises as he massages your aching flesh.

You whine softly, cheeks tear-stained and glistening.

Steve releases your mouth and leans down to kiss your forehead.

“You’re such a good girl for us, honey. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he whispers softly, his voice gentle and kind.

Your insides get warm and fuzzy at the praise from both of them and you can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth.

“Now, sweet girl. You gonna let me eat your pretty pussy? I remember you saying you’d ride my face. Well, what are you waiting for, honey?”

He helps you stand on your shaky legs, then leads you into the living room with Steve hot on your heels.

Each man has a hand somewhere on your body, and you don’t hate it. In fact, you could die happily in their arms.

After an orgasm, of course.

Bucky lies down on the couch on his back while Steve turns on a dim lamp in the corner of the room, giving you just enough light to see where each man is.

“C’mon, baby. Lemme taste that pretty pussy. I’ve missed her.”

You climb nervously onto the couch, nodding at the questioning look on his face, then position yourself with your knees on either side of his head and your pussy right above his mouth.

“None of that hovering shit, sweetheart. I’m a man, not a boy. I can handle you. I wanna feel you ride my face.”

He grabs your hips and yanks them down until your weight is firmly resting on his face, and then his talented tongue is working your clit.

“O-oh!” You exclaim, tumbling forward and grabbing onto the arm of the couch for stability.

“Oh God... Bucky... oh fuck...”

He works your body like he’s spent years studying it, finding every angle that makes you twitch.

Steve comes to stand at the edge of the couch, smoothing his hands through your hair and cupping your face, forcing you to look up at him through glossy eyes as his friend brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“You look so pretty riding his face, honey. So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, leaning in to capture your lips with his.

The kiss is intense and passionate, and you can’t help but whine softly against his mouth when his fingers dart beneath your shirt to tug on your nipples.

Bucky’s hands slide over your thighs, pulling you further onto his face while his tongue attacks your clit.

You moan into Steve’s mouth, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, nails digging into the bare skin.

“M’gonna cum,” you whisper against his mouth, leaning your chest into his hands as he fondles your breasts.

“Do it, honey. Cum all over his face. C’mon, sweet girl,” Steve coaxes, tugging and twisting your nipples and nipping at your bottom lip while you rock your hips against Bucky’s face.

The additional stimulation pushes you over the edge quickly, and you crumple forward against Steve’s chest, panting against his mouth as you convulse.

He supports your weight while Bucky licks you through your orgasm, relishing in the feeling of your walls spasming and fluttering while you whimper and moan against Steve.

“Good girl... fuck, you’re such a good girl for us,” Steve praises, hugging you to his chest for a moment then helping you off of Bucky’s face.

The brunet sits up and pulls you to sit on his lap, his beard glistening in the dim light of the room.

“Fuck, you taste like heaven,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing you deeply.

You taste yourself on his mouth and can’t help but sigh into it.

Something about the way he’s so comfortable being sexual with you, so open and confident without a hint of insecurity makes you so unbelievably attracted to him.

You rock your hips on his lap, wanting -no, needing- more.

“You’re a greedy girl, aren't you?” He muses against your lips, pulling back to look at you.

You nod, breathing heavily and wanting nothing more than to have his thick cock inside you.

“Please fuck me,” you beg softly, lust-filled eyes trained on him.

He groans softly and nods, pushing you to lie down on your back.

You huff out a breath and sit up while he rises, yanking your shirt off and watching as he and Steve drop their sweatpants.

Steve comes to kneel at your head while Bucky makes his way between your thighs again.

“Buck says I’m not allowed to fuck you, sweetheart,” Steve whispers. “Not yet, anyway. Punk wants to keep that sweet tight cunt to himself and, honestly, I don’t blame him. Still can’t help but be jealous. I’d love to feel your squeeze me, princess. Fuck, I dream of the day when I can finally cum inside you, pump you full.”

You squirm on the couch, desperate to be filled with cock and cum, and the two men share a soft chuckle.

“Getting our girl all worked up, Stevie. Look at how desperate she is.”

‘Our girl’. You can’t help but sigh at that.

You belong to them, to both of them. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve rubs the tip of his hot cock against your lips, smearing a bead of precum around and chuckling softly when your mouth drops open.

“You’re just desperate for cock at this point, aren’t you?” He questions softly, pushing into your mouth and rubbing against your tongue.

You can only nod slightly, not wanting to disturb him as he plays with your mouth.

Bucky’s hands rub gently along your thighs, smoothing over the skin and sending shivers racing up your spine.

“You like teasing her, huh?” He asks, a smile on his face as he watches his friend have fun with you.

“She makes it hard not to,” Steve admits, slowly pushing his cock down your throat.

You brace one hand above your head on his thigh, trying hard to keep your throat open and push your gag reflex down as he starts thrusting gently.

“Aw, look at how nice he’s being, Angel. Treating you like you’re fragile or something,” Bucky says with a chuckle, using one hand to guide his cock to your dripping hole while the other hand shoves your shirt up above your breasts, two fingers pinching your nipple.

“We all know that’s not true though, don’t we?” He punctuates his question with a harsh thrust that kisses your cervix and you can’t help but moan around Steve’s length, trying to suppress the cough that wants to follow.

The brunet feels proud at how well you take his cock, like your body was made specifically for him. And he plans on taking complete advantage of that.

His pace is even, each thrust rough enough to have a soft moan falling from your mouth and every time a noise comes from you, Steve moans from above you. The vibrations combined with how hot and wet your mouth is has the blond trying desperately to hold onto his composure.

You feel so full.

So completely stuffed from both ends and you’ve never been happier.

Bucky fits perfectly in your cunt, each drag of his girth along your walls has sparks shooting to your clit, a type of stimulation you didn’t think you’d get from penetration alone - yet here you are.

Your orgasm creeps up on you slowly, getting closer and closer with each thrust of Bucky’s hips and every tug of your hair in Steve’s hand.

Your senses are clouded. Nothing exists beyond Bucky in your cunt and Steve in your mouth. All you can taste, feel, hear, and smell is the three of you and you’d love to bask in it forever.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart. Nice n’ tight... wet... shit, honey, you feel like heaven, you know that? God, I could fuck this sweet little pussy all night. Might just have to.”

Bucky’s words have you gushing around him, a moan vibrating against Steve’s cock again and the blond can’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck, honey. Shit... I tried to be gentle but fuck, you feel too good. I’m sorry.” With that, he holds your head in both hands and begins fucking your throat like you’re nothing more than a fucktoy.

He uses you to get off. He ignores your gags and coughs and the tears running down your temples and he fucks you like he owns you.

And between your thighs, Bucky does the same thing.

He has your hips hoisted up slightly, the angle allowing him to get so much deeper and fuck you so much harder. His hands are firmly planted on your hips, gripping so tightly that you know you’re going to have bruises in the morning but you also don’t care.

His cock hits your sweet spot with every thrust, and you can’t stop the moans from falling between gags.

Everything is too much. The pleasure between your legs mixes so beautifully with all the pain and it pushes you over the edge, your climax slamming into you like a train.

“Fuck... can feel you cumming, sweet girl. Fuck, that’s right... cream on my cock, princess. It’s all yours, you know that,” Bucky murmurs, grunting at the vice-like grip your cunt has on his cock.

Steve doesn’t last much longer, yanking his cock out of his mouth and furiously stroking it until ropes of his cum are bursting out and painting your face.

You cough and gasp, moaning far louder than you really should as Bucky fucks you through your orgasm and Steve cums on your face.

“Fuck, you look so pretty covered in his cum, baby. So fuckin’ pretty. M’gonna fill you up now. Gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum then send you back to bed leaking. You want that? Wanna be full of my cum?”

You nod immediately, your hands finding his chest as his thrusts get sloppy.

Your nails dig into the meat of his chest and break the skin, but you’re both so far gone in your pleasure that you hardly register that.

All that matters is him pumping you full of cum exactly like he said he would.

“Please,” you whisper roughly, dragging your nails down his arms until your fingers are wrapped around his wrists - so thick that you can’t even touch the tip of your thumb to your middle finger.

“Fuck, baby. You ready for it? Yeah?” He asks, piercing blue eyes focused on your fucked-out face.

It takes two more thrusts for him to meet his high and then he’s making good on his promise.

He paints your walls white, fills you with warmth exactly like he said he would, and you feel so whole and content at that moment.

With Steve stroking your hair and Bucky smoothing his hands over your thighs, you feel happy.

A content sigh falls from your lips and you settle deeper into the couch, exhaustion creeping up on you.

“Did we fuck you to sleep, pretty girl?” Steve asks softly, his fingers wiping the mess off of your face gently.

You only hum in response, the sound scratchy and hoarse.

He chuckles and presses a quick kiss to your forehead before straightening up and tugging his boxers on.

“How do you feel, honey?” Bucky asks gently, his eyes soft and full of something that has your heart jumping in your chest.

You nod your response then clear your throat when he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Sore,” you manage to whisper, your lids feeling heavy.

The two men share a soft chuckle and Bucky pulls you onto his lap so you’re cradled in his arms, his softening cock still lodged inside of you.

“How about we go take a quick shower to get you cleaned up, hmm? Then we can put you to bed.”

You nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck and wind your arms around his strong body.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask softly, the question muffled slightly from where your lips are pressed against his skin.

He rubs his hands across your back and then a second set of hands is smoothing over your hair.

“We can’t stay for too long, Princess, but definitely until you fall asleep,” Bucky whispers, peppering kisses along any skin exposed to him.

Steve nods his agreement and pushes your hair aside to allow him to press a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Now c’mon, crybaby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#dbf!bucky #dbf!bucky x reader #dbf!Steve x reader #diff!bucky x reader #diff!Steve x reader #dbf!bucky x reader x dbf!steve #bucky x reader x steve #stuck x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader lemon #bucky x reader age gap

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Joel (41) / F!reader (25) | 4.7k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky attitude or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: hi guys!! I’m fresh off finishing east side of sorrow and couldn’t wait to hop into this work. I can not thank everyone enough for the fun we had with esos, but i am beyond stoked to meet this joel because i am ferallllll for him all dirty on a ranch with a cowboy hat on a horse ughhhh, give it to me already. anyways, let me know if you like it 🤍 thank you to @sawymredfox for letting me idea dump on you and give me all kinda of ideas! i love you to pieces! this ones for you my dear!

A03 Link | Spotify Link | Masterlink

Pt. 1: Oklahoma Smokeshow

Half a mile from the turnpike, two miles from home, along the winding and twisting asphalt of Cold Creek road, Joel Miller rasps his gloved hand against the steering wheel of the Rising Sun Ranch’s newly bought—second (maybe fifth?) hand old pickup truck. A beat up nineties chevy with rust on the floorboard and a new-car tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Beside him, his brother Tommy bounces his knee while he takes a long drag off his second cigarette since this drive started. The smoke plumes through the window, then back inside when the chill outside pushes the hot smoke back into the cab, whirling around Joel's senses like it belongs there. The smell is insufferable and makes Joel’s skin crawl, takes him to a time before ropers scars and belt buckles.

“Know that shit’s gon’ kill you, right?” He doesn’t need to look over at his brother's form beside him to know the younger man is anxious, like he usually is on long car rides. “You used to do it too, big brother.” Joel scuffs at him, keeps his one gloved hand on the wheel as he keeps on driving. He’s not wrong, if he wants to talk about the Joel of ten years ago, a distant, ragged and angry version of himself. “Don’t remind me.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the snow coated road ahead of him. He’s cautious at this time of the year, the winter storms usually leave them stranded on the ranch for a few weeks, but he’s lucky enough to have caught the dark clouds before they started to let down too much. The salt on the roads seem to do the trick for the time being, so long as he stays away from the embankment and keeps his eyes on the dimming road ahead.

It was mid day, but the sun sets early in the winter, so it hangs low in the sky amongst the cold abyss, like it’s desperately reaching out for the horizon—like it wants to run from this place too. He looks ahead and silently wishes to himself that he could follow those last rays of sunshine into tomorrow, like maybe he would find something there.

He shakes the thought and sets his mind back on track, why they were out here. “When we get back to the ranch, you need to find a way to apologize to Miss Lou. She really was just tryin’ to be helpful, Tommy. She ain’t wrong for that.” Louise had always been more than welcoming and kind to them, she’s saved their asses more than once and she feeds them more than she needs to, but his brother can never seem to let a good thing be, always biting the hand that attempted to feed him.

“Don’t like it when people go through my shit, man, you know that.” He’s nearly done with his cigarette, thank fuck because Joel wants to grab it from his hand himself and chuck it out the window. “She wasn’t goin’ through your stuff, dipshit, she was doin’ your laundry! Doesn’t give you any right to snap at someone like that. Especially a nice lady who’s husband give’s us a dollar in our pocket and a roof over our heads. Do you have any Idea where we’d be without that?”

It cuts deep because Tommy flicks his butt out the window and sinks down in his seat, he knows Joel is right because they are incredibly lucky to be where they are now. They would probably never find somewhere as appealing as their little shared hunting cabin a half mile from the main house. “Hank ain’t happy,” he adds, like Tommy doesn’t already know that after the argument that led to them leaving. “We wouldn’t be out in a goddamned snow storm for fuckin’ flowers if Hank was happy.”

Joel finally glances over, but when he does, it’s at the bouquet of flowers sitting beside him on the bench seat. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize—to both of them. We wouldn’t have shit if it weren’t for them—“ they wouldn’t, they were on their last leg, hitchhiking across half the country when they found an ad outside of the feed store in Jackson looking for a ranch hand in exchange for room and board. Joel gave them two for the price of one and the rest was history. Tommy makes an annoyed sound and interrupts. “Joel, what's that?” Directly in front of them, on the side of the road caught in an embankment is a little blue car sunk all the way down to the lug nuts. It doesn’t look like the person lost control, but they just drove into the embankment.

This road isn’t frequented and the cell service is spotty, but the taillights on the car tell him there's someone inside. “I’m stoppin’ to help,'' Joel informs him, but Tommy shifts and rolls his eyes—he’s never been the humanitarian type. “Why? I’m sure they can pay for a tow truck. Besides, if they are stupid enough to get stuck in an embankment, they can suffer.” Usually, Joel would agree, but the closer they get to Christmas, the more that iced over heart of his starts to thaw out.

Joel stops the truck on the road and leaves it running while he looks over at his brother. “Ain’t leavin’ nobody stuck out here in this storm, even if they’re stupid. They won't make it through the night.” He shuts the door behind him and stuffs his hands into his pockets. An agitated gust of air leaves his lungs in the form of cloudy condensation amongst the snowfall. He walks up to the car, leaning down so he can glance inside without getting too close. Through the fogged window, he can make out the figure of a woman leaned against the steering wheel, her face casted by her hair hanging all around while she slumps her head against the wheel. Stupid—stupid girl. What the hell is she doing way out here?

He rasps against the window and she jolts just as Tommy comes up behind him, finally having left the comfort of the truck cab. “S’a girl, should have guessed.” Tommy interjects with a crude tone, thankfully before she rolls the window down. She looks a little scared and a lot embarrassed, her eyes are red like she’s been crying her heart out. It doesn’t make Joel sad, it makes him uncomfortable. Emotions make his skin crawl, make him uneasy. He doesn’t handle people crying well, he doesn’t know how to react to it, what he should say or do.

“You need someone to pull you out?” He asks, trying his best to sound mellow tempered and helpful. He’s not, but he won't be able to sleep tonight if he has to drive by the coroner unsticking her frozen body from the seats in the morning. “I’m so sorry—I was checking my phone because my mom texted me and I didn’t see the corner—“ stuck in the snow because she was on her fucking phone? “You hit a snow embankment because you were textin’? You dim or somethin’, girl?” She gives him a hard glance, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I’m not dim, but I can tell you’re dense.”

Tommy scuffs from beside him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll grab the chain,” he tells his brother as he heads towards the truck. “I’m gonna pull you out, but after that you’re on your own, kid. This storm is just starin’, might be smart if you headed back to whatever city you blew in from.”

She’s the furthest thing from appreciative when Joel hooks a chain to the frame of her car and the hitch on the front of the old red chevy. When she gets out of the little blue car, Joel gets the full extent of how unprepared she is for a full on impending whiteout snowstorm. Her pants have rips and holes, like they are meant to be there, no way they are offering any kind of protection from the chill. Her boots have a three inch heel like she’s walking along some new york sidewalk with a tiny dog in her arms. She has a jacket, fur lining the hood and yet she’s still shaking like it all does nothing to protect her from the snow.

“Thank you for doing this, but I really could have called a tow truck or something. They probably would have been a lot nicer about it.” Her voice is dripping with disdain when he stands upright again. “You want nice, or you want to be dead? Because there ain’t no company sending a driver out here when were forecasted to get two feet overnight.”

She puts her hands on her hips in an attempted threatening manner, like that might scare Joel into an apology when she looks like an angry child who didn’t get their way. Joel hated people like this, too good for the world with their nose up in the air. He turns around to head back to the truck when he spots the piles of boxes in her back seat. Great—another fuckin’ know it all who think’s living out here is romantic and rustic. “You movin’ out here somewhere? You know there ain’t a mall for like, a hundred and fifty miles, right?”

She’s irritated now, with all the rude comments Joel is throwing her way—but he doesn’t care because the last thing this place needs is more city people thinking they can tame this untouched land. It shouldn’t bother him, because how long could she really last out here anyways? With those three inch heels and clothes fit for a concrete jungle, not muddy plains and cattle. She won't make it a month out here in the dead of winter.

“Just pull my car out, or leave me be, because the last thing I need right now is to get harassed by some old dumb fuck cowboy.” Dumb cowboy? Old? Like he’s the fucking moron out here in the middle of a blizzard in a car with bald ass tires and pants with holes in them. Maybe he should fucking leave, let her strand around trying to find a signal to call a tow company that wont come. “You know what?” Teach her a lesson, maybe then she’ll learn this place isn’t for people like her. With her done up hair and makeup—she’s pretty, unnaturally so—like she’s trying to damn hard to look that good—god damnit—“walk around in those stupid fucking shoes and see if you can find your own way out,” he leans down and undoes the hook under her car roughly. “Come on Tommy, were out of here.” She stomps her foot in the snow and starts to pace back to her car.

Joel makes his way back to the truck and unhooks the chain from the front. He’s had a long fucking day of taking care of his idiot bothers problems and he doesn’t have the patience to help some girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her.

“Hey, big brother.” It’s Tommy’s voice in his ears when he finally closes the door behind himself, huffing in discontent as he puts it in gear. “What.” He snaps, backing away from the stuck car and those sinfully tight jeans on that tight little—mother fucking son of a bitch, stop it!—he cant stand people like her, fucking with his head and getting under his skin. The type of girls who have looked him up and down and laughed in his face at the thought of someone like him being up to standard for someone like them. That snot nosed brat can sit in the snow, for all he cares.

“No need to get all hostile at me, man—I’m just checkin’ on ya. You’re all red and pissy, and nothin’ gets you all worked up like that.” He shrugs beside him with a cocky sort of snort. “I mean, unless—“ Joel jerks on the wheel and sneers over at his brother. “Drop it. Not another fucking word or I’ll leave you here too.”

Tommy’s jaw snaps shut and he looks out the passenger window, the radio playing quietly while the storm picks up, and the road carries on. Joel doesn’t think about what he’s done, only how his knee bounces and his hands flex the whole way back to the ranch. How his heart pounds and his blood rushes and it makes his head throb.

When they pull into the muddy drive, he shuts off the truck and turns towards his brother and the bouquet of flowers. “You really need to mean it when you talk to them, I’m serious. They are nice people who’ve looked out for us for two years. We owe them that, at least.” His little brother seems serious when he nods, so Joel passes him the flowers and heads inside. They have sacrificed so much to help Joel and Tommy. They’d been through dark winters with them, when they lost half the herd to the cold and Joel spent the night in the barn with what was left to make sure they all stayed upright and dry. They’ve all had empty bellies at night, didn’t have two nickels to rub together between the four of them and they’ve stood by each others sides through it. They’ve seen Tommy lose his shit a few times, too—so they know he’s capable of coming back from it. He just hopes this time wasn’t too far—Tommy had yelled at her for simply washing his clothes for him.

When the door to the big white farm house creaks open, Joel steps inside to the warm scent of roast in the oven and potatoes on the stove, Hank in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand and his reading glasses on while the game plays in the background. Hank was a large man, kind of chubby in the joyous kind of way, kind eyes and balding on the top. He laughs a lot, but he takes no shit while he’s at it.

“Kitchen,” Joel directs Tommy, who makes his way to the conjoining room where Louise was probably busy cooking dinner. Joel makes his way over to the couch across from Hank, who drops his paper and gives Joel a long look. “You talk to him?” He nods his head and glances down at his snowy boots. “He’s been real anxious all day. Storm comin’ in is messin’ with him and he knows it's no excuse to snap at anyone. He’s in there apologizin’.”

The older man nods at him and glances over his shoulder where Joel can barely see Tommy handing her the bouquet. “She was really shaken up over it, I hate seeing her so upset. She’s been excited all day and trying to make the house looks nice. I think it was just a misunderstanding, but don’t give him any excuse to yell at her like that.”

Joel twists his hands around and looks up at Hank who wears a solemn expression. “I know, I’m real sorry, Hank.”

The man across from him sigh, then offers a faint smile as he stands from his chair. “It’s alright. You boys are like family, families fight—it happens. Lets get some dinner, forget about all this mess, alright?” Joel is thankful for the reason to drop the conversation and stands with the older man as they head towards the kitchen. Louise and Tommy are talking quietly, smiling at each other until she reaches out and embraces him in a soft looking hug. It's an ease on Joel’s wound tight mind, thinking Tommy had finally thrown a wrench in the only good thing they’ve had in ten years.

Dinner is delicious, savory roast that he can dip soft bread in, let is soak up all the juice that he tries and fails to not get all over his beard. When his bowl is empty and his stomach feels distended, he leans back in his chair and sighs contently. “That was amazing, Miss Lou—I don’t know how you do it.” The smile she gives him isn’t like one of her usuals, it’s slightly saddened and disheartened when she looks across the table at him. For a moment, he worries that Tommy’s words are getting to her again. “Everythin’ okay?” He sits up a little in his chair.

“I'm a little worried. Our daughter was on her way home from college today, she’s finally graduated and she called me this morning to tell me she’d be home before supper, so I made her favorite.” She looks towards the window. “The storm is getting worse, I’m worried her little car wont make it,” Joel’s whole stomach lurches into his throat and he nearly throws up in his hands. “I told you we should have gotten her a truck, Hank, you know she’s not the best driver in snow.”

Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!—he’s such a fucking idiot. He knew she was coming home today, Lou has been talking about it for weeks, the impending return of the prodigy child, home with a degree to save the ranch—or whatever it is that she was doing. He’d heard them talk about her so many times, she was all brains and no know-how, Hank always talked about how clumsy and awkward she was, but how brilliant her mind was at the same time. He’d always questioned how uncoordinated she really was, based on the photos of her as a young woman roping in the rodeo. Fuck—he should have recognized her... “What’s her name again?” Tommy asks like he has no fucking clue Joel is losing his ever loving shit right now. They left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of this damn snow storm. He hears Louise say her name but it doesn’t register because he feels like he’s on fire and drownings at the same time. “But everyone’s always called her Honey. Since she was a little little thing. She was always so ornery and stubborn until one day she got into a bee box and got covered in bee stings. Ever since that day she was so sweet, so we started calling her Honey.” Lou has this soft smile and all Joel can think about is how he’d told her to crawl back to whatever city she came from in her stupid fucking shoes. “She’s got a real mouth on her till something puts her straight.” Hank chuckles and Joel abruptly stands from his seat.

“I’m finished, I can go out and have a look incase she got stuck somewhere.” He slings on his jacket, but Tommy is still eating and doesn’t think much of it—dumb ass. “Are you sure? She’s probably fine, she knows better than to get caught out in these storms, she probably got a hotel in town.” Joel shakes his head at them and throws on his thick Carhartt jacket that Hank gave him his first winter here after watching him shiver in the fields. “I’m sure, it’s gettin’ bad, just gonna make sure she ain’t stuck somewhere.” Joel makes his way out the door quickly, grabbing the keys to the truck that they had given to him—“how are you supposed to manage a ranch if you don’t have a way to get around?”

He starts up the old chevy and it fires to life despite the snow coming down in heaps now. He’s worried about the road back to her car, about the probably eight inches lining the long driveway, but he throws it in four wheel drive and tries his damndest to get through it because despite all the things stacking up against him, his biggest worry is the police finding her frozen to death in the morning and her parents faces when they find out it was Joel who abandoned her there to die. God—he’s such a prick.

The road is slippery and tricky, a winding snow covered path along the hillside leading towards Jackson. It takes him twenty minutes in this blizzard to get there, all he can think about the entire time is the half freezing girl hiding in her car and the warm food in his belly that was meant for her. He stops the truck when he gets to the car, the lights are off and it looks abandoned—his gut lurches again, what if he’s already too late? Two hours have passed since he left her stranded and the sun has set now, real cold is creeping in.

He jumps out of the truck and walks up to the window. He can't see inside because the glass is fogged, so she has to be alive in there. He knocks on the window and the door jerks against the cold. “Hey,” he pulls the door open more, she’s sitting in the driver seat, pale and shaking with a small blanket pulled around her to keep in some warmth. The look she gives him could kill a man if he didn’t feel like he was already going to die the second you tell your parents that he left you there.

“Y-Your conscious f-finally get to y-you, asshole?” She’s absolutely shaking, her fingers look purple. “I’m so sorry—C’mon, it’s warm in the truck.” He reaches for her hand, but she snaps it away from him like he might burn her. “I c-can get o-out on my own.” She can and does, wobbles on her too tall heels and starts to head towards the running truck. Joel grabs the door for her and she sneers at him—yeah, yeah—he deserves that. He closes the door behind her and runs over to the other side. When he jumps in, she’s got her hands pressed against the heater while she relishes in the welcomed heat.

He pulls away from her trapped car, he’ll come back for it when the snow has cleared up a little bit, but for now—it’s too dangerous to try and yank it out just for it to get stuck in the road because it has no traction. It's ten agonizing minutes of silence while Joel taps his fingers against the steering wheel, trying his damndest to keep a close eye on the woman beside him. She’s warming herself up and thawing out that burning rage Joel knows is inside of her. When they get closer to the driveway, she starts to fire off. “You takin’ me to some backwoods shack to tie me up and keep me?” He scoffs and looks out the windshield, trying to keep the truck steady in the snow.

“If I was going to tie up and keep some girl, I’d make sure she was less bitchy.” She growls at him, growls lowly and it actually does the job, makes his skin prick in goosebumps while he drives. “Wouldn’t be so bitchy if you didn’t leave me on the side of the road. You know I could have died, right?” He is painfully, agonizingly aware of that fact. “I came back, didn’t I?” The driveway is in view, a long fenced path up to the old farm house. “How’d you know I was comin’ here?” Her voice is a tad quieter now, less abrasive on his ears.

“Cus’ I’m comin’ here too.” He says quietly, halfway hoping it won't reach her ears, but her mom was right—she is quick, smart too. “You’re Joel, aren’t you?” She laughs menacingly, crossing her arms across her body and her left leg over her right with a scoff. “You know, my parents said it was Tommy I wouldn’t like. Said you were this big southern gentlemen.” She laughs a little harder, looking over at Joel. “They were half worried they’d have to chase me out of your bed, that you were right up my alley. My daddy said you were the type to charm any woman’s pants off. Guess they don’t know you like they thought they do, huh? Under all that chivalrous facade is just another self centered, selfish cowboy.”

Joel shuts off the truck and glances over at her. “Look, I’m real sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit, got a thing for people who don’t belong out here. Didn’t know you were their kid. Would’ve pulled your car out if I’d known.” She opens the door of the cab and steps out into the snow. “So you’re only a good person when someone’s lookin’, I’ll keep that in mind, dickhead.”

She slams the door and storms off towards the house while Joel slumps against the wheel with his head in his hands. Fuck…if it’s not Tommy risking their welcome, their jobs, then it was him, making an absolute ass of himself in-front of the bosses daughter. The bosses fiery, too good—too good looking—

“Son of a bitch!”

—

He gets into the house ten minutes after she does, his hands stuffed in his pockets and half expecting her parents to kick him out right then and there. He pretty much told her to fuck off and left her to freeze to death. There’s no doubt in his mind that they would have found her dead in the morning, the temperature was below freezing already.

To his surprise, it's quiet when he gets inside. Hank and Louise are in the dining room with their daughter, laughing and smiling and surprised to see her, to see her with Joel. “And he just found you there?” She looks so…so..chipper standing there beside her dad with her arm on his shoulder while he sits at the table. “Yep, got my car stuck because I was texting, I know—not bright.” She sounds so fucking fake and dramatic in her tone, Joel’s hands flex and unflex. “And I couldn’t get out and find a signal because of my stupid fucking shoes. I probably would have died there if not for…good ol’ Joel.” She cocks her head with this shit eating grin on her face that makes Joel's gut clench up and his heart pound.

This fucking bitch—is she blackmailing him right now? In those stupid fucking pants and that top he’s finally getting a glimpse at—and then…shit…

Look at you…just—his brain is going haywire right now. He hates your fucking guts right about now but his brain makes other notes about your guts and its desire to be in them—and that tight ass shirt with your tits just pourin’ out of it—Jesus CHRIST, Joel, get it together here.

He shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek and meets your eyes, everyone else is looking at you, but you’re looking at him, fully aware of the way his eyes just ate your body up for dessert until he was stuffed. “Real winner you guys have here, mom and dad…real winner.”

If there’s one thing Joel is certain of, it’s that he is in big, big fucking trouble.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #archive of our own #joel the last of us #joel tlou #rancher joel #joel miller moodboard #cowboy joel miller

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Chelo Alonso (Sign of Rome Morgan the Pirate La ragazza sotto il lenzuolo)— She was an international star, and she was so hot she had to turn down marrying a prince, and became so famous for being hot that Fidel Castro sent Che Guevara to beg her to go back to Cuba. She was also called the Cuban H-Bomb. She makes me light-headed.

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Chelo Alonso:

"forgive me sending in more pictures of her but i CANNOT be normal about here asdhgkljhahgjkhgkajshgajghshgjl"

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is.

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

ion words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

#ingrid bergman #chelo alonso #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4

[atinylittlepain]

In a Pinch

Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel keeps throwing his back out, but Ellie knows just who to go to for help.

warnings | 18+ allusions to smut, that's literally it, fluff ahead

a/n | is this entirely self-indulgent nonsense? why yes, yes it is. also, this ficlet belongs to the sweetness universe, but can totally be read on its own

.............................

This is the third time this week that Ellie has come home from her classes at the community school to find Joel sprawled on the floor with a pained look on his face. 

“Back hurting again, old man?” He huffs, glancing at her from where he’s laying on the living room floor.

“I’m just– stretching.” She snorts at that.

“Oh yeah? What’s this pose called? I’ve given up-dog?” She bursts out in laughter, impressed by her own joke. Their pretty teacher-slash-neighbor-lady had been offering yoga classes during their free elective period in school, and Ellie had gone only because Dina wanted to do it, but now she’s happy for the material it provided for her to razz Joel with. He, however, does not look equally amused at her wordplay.

“Alright, smartass. Will you just help me up? Goddamn.” He shuffles into a seated position with a hard groan and Ellie begrudgingly offers him her hand. Right as he starts to pull himself up though, he lets out a yelp of pain. She didn’t know Joel could even yelp, quickly getting worried by the way he flops back down onto his back, his face twisted up in what could only be agony.

“Jesus– fuck!” That can’t be good.

“What? What’s wrong?” She hovers over him, getting more and more worried by the way he’s not moving a muscle.

“It’s my fucking back– I– something popped.” Because she isn’t a geriatric menace like Joel, Ellie knows nothing about what that could possibly mean, just that it’s probably not good that he literally cannot sit up right now.

“Uh, ok– should I– should I get someone?” Joel tries his best to shake his head no, more of a jerky side to side than anything else.

“No. Just gotta– wait it out.” She scoffs.

“On the fucking floor? What if I just get Tommy? He could at least get you onto the couch or something.” The shaky jerk of his head gets a little bigger, but Ellie’s already headed toward the door. Because she’s her, she turns on her heel just before slipping out.

“Be right back, old man. Don’t you go anywhere!” She just couldn’t help herself.

However, as she steps out onto their front porch, it dawns on her that Tommy is on patrol today. Shit. She racks her brain for who else she could ask for help, coming up with a big fat nobody. She’s distracted from her dilemma by the sound of faint humming, whipping her head around to see their neighbor - pretty teacher-slash-neighbor-lady whom Joel has a huge crush on - walking up the steps to her own porch and unlocking her door before slipping inside. Ellie grins, a clear solution suddenly laid right before her. Yoga is good for bad backs, right?

She’s already bounding across their yard toward pretty-teacher-lady’s house. It would take a fool to not notice that something has been going on between Joel and her, ever since that dance they both just happened to disappear from at the exact same time. As far as Ellie’s concerned, asking her to come help out the old man and his messed up back is a win-win, a two for one really. In one fell swoop, Ellie will get Joel some help and embarrass the living shit out of him in front of the woman he’s got the hots for. Now that’s a prospect she could never pass up.

…

“Ellie, what the hell–”

“Shut it, old man! She can help you with your messed up back.” Joel hasn’t felt this mortified in a long time, a hot flush creeping up his cheeks as his eyes dart between his smartass of a kid and their neighbor, the same neighbor he’s been fooling around with for the last few months. Probably not for much longer, now that she knows I throw my back out if I even sneeze funny. 

“I’m fine– really. Just– letting things loosen up a bit.” Ellie snorts at that, turning to their neighbor with a smug look.

“He couldn’t even get up off the floor–”

“Ellie.” If there was a way for someone to die of embarrassment, he reckons he’d already be six feet under by now. Their neighbor, however, seems unphased by the whole thing, putting a hand on Ellie’s shoulder and offering her a smile.

“Ellie, I think Dina was looking for you at the stables, why don’t you–” Before she can even finish, Ellie is already whipping out the door. Joel lets out a huff, and then winces at the pain it sends shooting through his back. 

“I don’t need any help.” She quirks a brow at him, kneeling down by his head.

“You sure about that?” He hums a yes. She doesn’t seem convinced.

“If you don’t need any help, can you sit up for me?” Fucking hell. 

“I mean– I can. S’just, I’m good like this for now.” She tilts her head at him, her crooked smile letting Joel know she doesn’t buy that for one second.

“Ok, I’ll let you stay like that. But can you tell me what happened at least?” He turns his head just slightly to look at her, letting out a deep sigh.

“It’s my back.” She chuckles.

“I can see that. But what happened to have you laid out like this?” He presses his lips into a thin line, furrowing his brow, not wanting to admit to her what happened. She brings a hand to his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“Joel, there’s no need for that. Besides, I’ve already had you on your back more than a few times before, haven’t I?” She can barely get the last words out, dissolving into a giggle. Joel, however, does not think it’s very funny.

“Now you’re just being cruel.” She sighs, squeezing his shoulder as she dips down to give him a peck.

“I’m kidding, don’t pout. Seriously, I might be able to help you if you just tell me what happened. Please?” He huffs, already melting at the soft look she’s giving him.

“It happened at the stables– earlier today. Bent over to pick up a saddle and it just– something just tensed up. It’s happened before– usually just gotta lay down and it’ll work itself out– but then the kid came home and she tried to help me up and–” “Let me guess, something popped?” His jaw goes slack at her knowing smile and she rather comfortingly rubs her palm up his arm.

“Can you tell me what kind of pain you’re in right now?” 

“It’s tight in my low back– but the pain is sorta– spreading? Down into my legs.” He’s surprised when she looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Sounds like sciatica.”

“Come again?” She smiles.

“We all have something called a sciatic nerve. It runs from your low back down both of your legs. It tends to get pinched pretty easily from stuff like heavy lifting and the pain this causes is called sciatica.” He squints at her.

“Why exactly do you know this?” She sighs, already setting into action, shifting down to his feet to tug off his boots.

“Well, I was a yoga teacher in another life. Had a lot of men just like you come into the studio with the same complaint.” A new detail he hadn’t known about her. He nods, peering down at her where she’s still working at his shoes.

“Do you know how to fix it then?” She hums, shifting back up onto her knees and shuffling to his waist.

“Sort of. I can move you through some stretches right now to at least get you off the floor. But the real fix for something like this is gonna be strengthening everything around it. If you keep up with the exercises I’ll show you, this shouldn’t be a problem anymore.” Joel can’t help but grumble at that. He’s never had to do “exercises” in his life. His work always kept him fit, and after that, scraping by in the apocalypse had worked just as well, though he supposes things have gotten a bit more lax in Jackson. He doesn’t have much time to ponder this when she’s abruptly undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

“Woah, hey– not that I, uh, mind exactly. But what’re you doing?” She grins at him, her hands stilling at his waistband.

“Easy, Miller. I’m just gonna take off your jeans. Need you to have your full range of motion for these stretches and tight denim isn’t gonna fly.” He’s trying real hard to not be weird about it, but the sight of his pretty neighbor whom he happens to have seen naked on multiple occasions now gently shimmying his jeans down his legs is making his heart slam against his ribcage. 

When she gets his pants all the way off, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt, she stands up with her hands on her hips, surveying the situation. Joel can’t help but grumble.

“Feel like a fucking invalid.” She snorts at that, kneeling back down alongside his waist.

“Alright, enough of the pity party. I’m gonna guide you through some stretches, you tell me if anything hurts too much, ok?” He nods, trying to ignore the shiver that runs up his spine when she rests her hand on his hip.

“Which leg are you feeling pain in?” He tells her it’s his left side, the one closest to her, and she nods. She slides her hand down from his hip to the hinge of his knee, and he can’t help wondering if this is the treatment she gave all her clients before. He sure hopes not. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna bend this knee in toward your chest and see if that doesn’t release any of the gripping. If that feels ok, we can take it a bit deeper, alright?” He’s not really sure what any of it means, a little too focused on the way she’s reassuringly stroking her thumb along the crook of his knee, but he nods. 

With a little assistance from him, she starts to bend his knee, tightness immediately pulling in his back as she tucks his leg in toward his chest. Well, sort of. His leg only bends to a bit over ninety degrees before it just stops. Her eyes dart to his, a furrow of concern clear in her expression.

“Does that hurt too much?” He huffs, shrugging a little.

“Not really– s’just tight. I don’t think it’s gonna bend anymore. Feels– I don’t know– rusty.” She sighs, her hand that’s not supporting his knee rubbing his chest in soothing circles.

“Ok, my sweet tin can man. Let’s try something else.” As she maneuvers him into what she calls a “figure four stretch,” he can’t help but study her face. He’s never seen her so focused, so determined, so at ease, and it’s clear to him that all this was a big part of her life before.

“So, this is what you did for a living? Helped people out with their messed-up backs?” She breathes out a laugh at that, keeping one hand on his shin as she looks up at him.

“This was part of it, yeah. I went to college for human physiology– suppose that’s why they have me teaching science at the school now. It just made sense to me, y’know? Muscles and ligaments and bones, how they move. Yoga just happened to be a passion that I turned into a job– I loved it.” He nods at her words, enjoying the distraction of learning a little more about her far more than the tight pulling sensation of the stretch she has him in. 

Then, all of a sudden, another pop resounds through his back. But this one doesn’t feel like a tightening up, it feels like a huge release. 

“Sweet jesus.” Her head whips up to look at him, hand slackening where it had been holding firm pressure to his leg. 

“You alright?”

“I’m pretty sure something just let up– felt another pop– but a good one, I think.” She nods, sitting back and resting her hands in her lap as he tentatively unwinds his legs from the stretch she had him in, planting his feet flat on the ground with his knees bent. 

“Well?” He sits up with a little groan, holding onto his shins to stay up straight.

“Feels a lot better. Still tight, but the pain has eased up for sure.” She practically beams at that and suddenly Joel’s heart is hammering in his ribcage again.

“Now that’s what I like to hear, Miller.” She helps him up, and this time, he actually makes it off the floor, quick to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into him.

“Thank you for your help, darlin. Gonna have to repay you somehow.” She laughs into the downright salacious kiss he steals from her, lightly pressing on his chest to get him to let up.

“Oh, I’m not done with you. Still got exercises to learn.” He groans at that, jostling her in his hold and burying his face in her neck, but she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly to get him to look at her. 

“And I’m gonna be checking in everyday to make sure you’re doing them. Can’t have you throwing your back out anymore, not on my watch.” He can’t help but smile at that, trying to kiss away the stern expression she’s giving him.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.” He reckons if the instructor is as pretty as she is, he won’t mind doing a few exercises every now and again.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot

[i-cant-sing]

Imagine it’s yn and a oc. Who’s getting flipped off in this scenario

Well, first of all- its me and my crush today because that bitch.... I think I have gotten over him with the way he treated me today. I asked him to bring me notes and he's like okay, and then when I went in today- he was like cr7ng so indifferent to me

Like I looked good today, I spent an hour and a half on my whole look and this bitch didn't even have the audacity to like blush or something. Okay maybe he didn't say anything because there were supervisors standing over us but still... when I asked him about the notes, he said in a slightly annoyed voice "I sent you the PowerPoint presentation" and I was like ??? I already had the presentations, I wanted the notes. And he's like "😮‍💨 are you coming again tomorrow?" And he said it like he was doing me a big favour and I said idk, maybe. But I'm actually not because I have fycking finals c9ming up, does this mf think I have all day, everyday????

Anyways, not that I expect him to like ask me about my day, but if he texts me, I AM NOT TEXTING BACK ANYMORE. This bitch- I looked so hot, 2 of his guy friends looked me up and down as I walked over to him.

Bitch ass, why is he sending me mixed signals??? Like if he's not interested, why is he walking over and visiting me with his friend DURING MY TEST and being all sneaky as he whispers "Hey, need any help?🥰" and then giving me the coldest shoulder today.

-

Also, this pic is giving Y/n and Magnus because Magnus is like "what do you mean you want to leave me???? Don't you love me???? You can't possibly want to throw our love away-" and reader just flips him off.

I can also see Dimitri on the receiving end often because this man is just crossing all the boundaries cause he's a fool in love. He's just speedwalking behind reader who's just stomping away angrily "why are you mad at me, darling? I did exactly what you wanted. What? Didn't you say you missed cooking food for the old lady who lived next to your apartment? What was so wrong with me having my men bring her here and live in the quarters downstairs? No, she's not aware that she is going to live here forever now but look- how much time does she have left anyways?? She's 94 for fucks sake-" and reader just flips him off.

Oh it's 1000% Y/n and Theodore all the time because Theo is teaching reader Russian maths because being kidnapped does not excuse you from getting an education. And Russian maths is already hard as it is, but learning it in SIGN LANGUAGE IS ANOTHER LEVEL OF DIFFICULTY. Theo is just like "Come on, focus. What sign is suppose to come here? I- don't DOSE OFF! Y/N! WHAT SIGN?" and reader just sticks her middle finger up in his face.

#yandere ocs #male yandere x reader #yandere x #yandere x you #yandere Theodore #yandere magnus #yandere Dimitri