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#but please don’t be mean to tommy
leo-bandito · 1 month
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something something gman tommy something something gordon in stasis. you know how it is.
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ickypuppi3 · 2 years
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amnesiac!billy is taking over my brain right now and it got me thinking about steve calling tommy to ask if he has any photos of billy.
because steve doesn’t have anything of billy’s.
because steve and billy weren't friends. they were never friends. not that he's gonna tell billy that. not right now. not yet, at least.
point is, steve doesn't have anything of billy's.
so he gets billy's music from max. billy's clothes. helps billy put his necklace on. uses his own money - well, his dad’s money - to fix up billy's camaro.
but there aren't any photos.
not recent ones anyway.
max managed to find two of billy as a kid. one with a woman. billy's mom he supposes. the other is just of billy. steve doesn't look at them by himself. feels too invasive for some reason.
he ignores the writing on the back, too.
point. is. there aren’t any recent photos. and steve just wants to show billy that he has actually lived in this shitty little town. that no one's lying to him.
then steve remembers tina’s party. the first time he saw billy up close. remembers the keg stand. remembers seeing a camera through the window as everyone cheered.
and that’s when he realises. his best chance is tommy.
so he bites the bullet and calls tommy at college. asks if he has any photos of billy. tommy tells him yeah actually, kept them when i heard about the fire. didn't want to forget about him, you know?
and they catch up for a while. it's weirdly.. easy? almost like old times. steve supposes they've both got bigger problems. bigger than high school shit, anyhow. easier to get along when everything’s in perspective.
tommy tells him he's not gonna be back for a few weeks. agrees to post the photo's to steve though. steve says thanks man, tells him i owe you one. tommy asks if he wants to catch up next time he's back in town. steve finds that he really does.
then the photos arrive.
the photos arrive and steve cries. doesn't know why. just cries. thinks it's fucking stupid, really. maybe it just feels like a relief. a relief to see that billy really was hargrove. that he did actually exist before all of this shit.
he shows them to billy next time he visits. says yeah, yeah when billy puffs out his chest and boasts about stealing steve’s title. gives names as billy points to each person. laughs when billy asks why freckles is staring at his ass.
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krysanthemun · 2 years
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“C!Tommy kinda deserves whatever C!Jack is planning.” i say into the mic.
the crowd boos. i begin to walk off in shame, when a voice speaks & commands silence from the room.
"They’re right," it says. i look for the owner of the voice. there in the 4th row stands: CC!Jack Manifold himself.
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toxicanonymity · 4 months
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stuffing.
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5.7k words, Joel x f!reader x Tommy | sequel here! A/N: ONE SHOT. I had to get this out of my system after that one Uncle Tommy line I wrote in september lol. Shoutouts to: @bonezone44 for being an Uncle Tommy stan, @walkintotheriveranddisappear for running the center for dvp excellence, and everyone who's been supportive. 🖤 Fic recs at the bottom. WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap, darkish miller bros, dubcon (coaxing/pressure, you aren't sure what Joel allows), use of "daddy," sharing, unsafe p in v (individually and together), oral, jacking off, creampies, cucking, MFM, DP (double vag), light degradation, praise, pet names, foot massage. AU where you don't overthink this fic. You’re happy with Joel, but it’s not a healthy relationship with clear communication and boundaries. Joel carries reader. TW: incidental incest via MFM/DVP - If this isn't for you, please quietly move along.
🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂
Joel squats down with one hand on the back of your chair. He admires your face then cups your cheek. “Gotta do somethin’, baby. Won’t be back tonight.” The casual announcement makes your heart race.  He kisses you on the forehead, then stands up. 
“What do you mean you won’t be back tonight?”
“It’s okay, baby. Uncle Tommy’s gonna stay with ya.”
Your face gets hot. Tommy tilts his head down and smiles at you from across the breakfast table. He raises his glass of juice in acknowledgement, but you don’t look at him. You look squarely at Joel, caught off guard by his plans.
“Daddy,” you whine. “Just lemme come with you.” 
“Ain’t that kinda trip, darlin’.” 
“Why can’t he do it?”
Tommy laughs silently and his voice goes up an octave. “What’sa matter, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hang out?” He tilts his head and smiles, then his normal voice returns. “That’s okay.” There's a glimmer in his eye. 
Joel grabs his jacket and kisses you goodbye, then says, “Don’t have too much fun without me,” and winks at Tommy. Then Joel's gone, just like that. Your tummy feels nervous as his truck starts, then drives away. 
-
It's Thanksgiving week. You have a lot to be thankful for. Joel loves you and takes good care of you. You have solar power and a nice farm with a secure perimeter. Tommy is visiting for the holiday. You met Tommy in passing long ago, but his girl at the time was with him, and that was before you were Joel’s. You were just the girl down the street. This week is the first time you've really spent time together. 
Joel would kill any other man for touching you, but apparently he's different about Tommy.  You're still figuring out how that works.  Joel doesn't seem to mind what Tommy sees–or feels–when the three of you are together.  But what about when you're alone? 
Does Joel know Tommy walked by the bedroom window and saw you undressing? Does he know Tommy came to apologize for that when you were fresh out of the shower, and saw you in a towel? Or that he looked you up and down, asked if Joel was treating you right, then gave a low whistle and adjusted himself before he left? Or that you touched yourself almost as soon as he closed the door?
*******
Last night, Joel put you in Tommy's lap in the armchair to give you a foot massage, and you tried not to react when Tommy got hard. “It's ok,” Tommy whispered with his hands on your hips. He pulled you back against his hard bulge with a soft grunt and it gave you a shock of desire. 
“It's ok, darlin,” Joel echoed, kneeling at your feet. Joel placed your heel on his own hardening package as he worked on the ball of your foot. 
Tommy's hand cupped your breast and you tensed. 
Joel glanced up. “Relax, baby. It's just Uncle Tommy.” 
“It's ok,” Tommy whispered again into your hair as his other hand crept up your thigh, higher and higher, until his thumb grazed your panties. Joel continued massaging you, unbothered, then switched to the other foot. 
Tommy's thick fingers glided over your panties and you twitched as he felt the dampness. He lifted his hips with a soft grunt, then cleared his throat.  “gonna take care of your girl tonight, Joel? She's drippin’ like a faucet.”  Your cheeks burned, and Tommy ran his hand down your thigh. 
Joel smiled with half his mouth as he glanced up. “makin’ a mess already?” Joel shook his head.  “Close your legs, darlin'.” 
Your stomach dropped and you stammered, “sorry, uh . . .”
But as soon as you closed your legs, Tommy lifted your dress up, making your whole body tingle with goosebumps. Joel’s face gave away nothing as he looked past you at Tommy.  For a moment, you thought Tommy had gone too far. Then Joel hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and Tommy held you back against his chest as Joel slid them off. Joel spread your knees, and Tommy's, and knelt between them, closer. 
With his armpits resting over your thighs, Joel looked at your cunt hungrily and spread you open with his thumbs. You tilted your hips for him, feeling yourself gush. “Good girl,” he murmured, then planted his right forearm on your lower belly. With his right fingers pointing down, he ran them through your dripping folds, then drew in a deep breath through his nose before bringing his mouth between your legs. 
Joel lapped at your weeping hole and sucked your clit. He fingered you and made out with your cunt like it was just another night, like he was getting ready to fuck you. Meanwhile, Tommy lightly grinded into your ass, breathing warm and wet into your hair and holding you gently in his strong arms as Joel devoured your pussy. Tommy rocked you gently on his lap, rocking you into Joel’s mouth. Joel ate you out at the same rhythm.  When you came, Tommy’s arousal pressed harder against you and he grabbed your breast. He cooed, “good girl.”  
Joel didn't seem to mind, and it felt really good, but you got self conscious after you finished. Tommy caressed your arm as Joel wiped his mouth off. “I'm sleepy, daddy,” you looked at him with big eyes.
Joel looked at you fondly, squeezed your thigh, and said, “I know, darlin’. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight.”  You turned around and kissed him on the cheek, then mumbled “goodnight” without meeting his eyes. 
Joel scooped you up in his arms. You went to bed with Joel and only Joel. As soon as he laid you down, you asked, “you're not mad about Tommy touching me?”
“Felt good, didn't it?” 
You gave a small nod. 
“Nice havin’ four hands.” Joel raised his eyebrows and left it at that. 
You eyed the protrusion in his jeans. “I'm comin’, baby,” he reassured you as he unzipped them. He pulled his jeans and boxers down together and his massive erection sprang free. He prowled across the bed, settled between your legs, and you raised your knees, tilting your hips for him. “Good girl,” he whispered as he got himself into place. 
“God damn, even wetter now,” he muttered as he gathered your slick on his fingers and wiped it on his stiff cock. His tip prodded your dripping hole, then he pushed inside with a sigh, making you moan as he split you open. Joel bottomed out, and the sound that came out of his chest was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, “Uungghh.” You whimpered in pleasure. Then, through the thin wall, you heard Tommy cum with a deep moan. Joel chuckled, then bowed his head and kissed you, pausing all the way inside. 
Joel kissed you softly as he buried his length in you, and your lips broke away only to whimper, “Daddy.”
“Yeah, baby doll,” he whispered into the pillow, right by your ear. “Daddy’s here.” You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you deep and slow. You imagined Tommy lying behind you, grinding against you, whispering “good girl,” copping a feel as Joel fucked you.  You moaned and whimpered under Joel as he brought you to the brink again.  Then, as your wet little pussy fluttered around his cock, he groaned and bottomed out to fill you with his seed. 
**********
Now it’s morning, Joel's gone, and you're left alone with his brother. His brother with the sweet smile, soft voice, and big dick that felt so hard against you. Don't have too much fun without me, Joel said. . . With a wink.   Unsure what to do with that, you avoid Tommy for most of the day, and he doesn't make you hang out with him. He works in the yard and you catch a few glimpses. He gets hot and takes off his flannel, exposing his wifebeater and oversized belt buckle. As he dabs his forehead with his shirt, his bicep swells and the veins on his hand bulge.
Tommy comes in and takes a shower in the other bathroom. There’s a knock on your bedroom door, then it opens. You’re not sure why you didn’t lock it. Tommy’s wearing jeans, boxers, and nothing else. Your eyes linger on his strong chest. He leans with his hand against the door frame. “Think Joel would let me borrow a shirt? Wasn’t plannin’ to work up a sweat,” he chuckles. 
Tommy crosses his muscular arms over his thick, bare chest as you get a white t-shirt out of Joel's dresser and toss it to him. Tommy’s jeans ride down as he lifts his arms and puts the shirt on in front of you. He catches you looking as his head comes through the hole, then he rakes his fingers through his curls. A subtle smile forms, his eyes twinkle, and he gives you a little nod before he walks away. 
Later, you're taking a bath. You sigh as you sink into the water. Then there's a click as the doorknob lock is effortlessly picked. The door opens and Tommy smiles at you with his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He closes the door behind him. The tub squeaks as you quickly pull up your knees to cover your breasts. 
“Musta been touchin’ yourself, huh?” he chuckles as he approaches the tub. “Don't stop on my account.” He winks and his eyes fall on your legs. You scooch them closer together in case he can see through the bathwater. 
Your chest feels warm. You look down and away.
Tommy takes a seat on the tiled floor in front of the garden tub. “C’mon sweetheart, don't be shy.” his arm moves out of view, unbuttoning his jeans. Your nipples harden. He tilts his head to peek from the side and smiles. 
“What do you want?” you ask softly and a low squeak echoes as you shift in the tub. 
“Wanna see ya do it. Go on, finish what ya started.”  
“I wasn't.”
“There's no shame in it, sweetheart”
You swallow and look down.
He studies your face and repeats, “Nothin' to be ‘shamed of. You know that. Right?”
“Tell your brother that,” you whisper and instantly regret it. You pinch your eyes shut and add, “No, don't. . .Please.”
“Oh shit,” Tommy whispers. “Ya can’t, can ya?” 
You barely shake your head, eyes still closed. 
Tommy chuckles. “Controlling fucker, ain't he?” 
You look at Tommy and your eyes widen with some defiant glimmer of hope. “God damn,” he whispers. “keepin’ his girl from touchin’ herself.” He looks down and shakes his head in disapproval.  
He smiles apologetically.  “Guess Daddy knows best, huh?” He tugs his jeans off, and you watch unabashed.  As his pants come off, his boxers ride down, exposing his short, dark pubic hair. You can’t help but admire the way his thigh muscles swell out from his boxers.  
He palms himself over the fabric and raises his eyebrows. “Wanna see it, don’t ya?” He smiles knowingly at you. 
You don’t answer. He shows you anyway, pulling the waistband down under his balls. He's neatly trimmed and his balls are big. He's engorged but not fully hard. 
“Do me a favor and spit in my hand, sweetheart.” He holds it out in front of you. You look back and forth between his eyes, then his freckles. He's a handsome man. His hand stays there, waiting patiently. You gather saliva in your mouth, tilt your head forward, and let it drop into his palm. 
“Good girl,” he murmurs. 
He wraps his hand around his cock and You look into the bath water as his eyes devour your body. In the corner of your eye, you can see him at full mast. He breathes heavier, then moves positions. He sits with his right side against the tub, facing you. He strokes himself with his left hand and dips his right hand into the water. You flinch away then try to relax.  The backs of Tommy’s fingers graze your calf under the water. You squeeze your thighs together. 
“Don't get shy on me now, cupcake.” He reaches behind your calf and touches the back of your leg, near your ass.  Your legs involuntarily part.  He wouldn't do anything Joel wouldn't like. Would he? Somehow the tension of the situation is only making you want it more.  His fingers creep between your legs and caress your inner thigh crease. He sucks in a chest full of air, then gets on his knees. He brings his left hand to your mouth again for lube. 
“Good girl.”  The squelch of his hand around his cock echoes with the new moisture.  He searches your face as half his mouth breaks into a smile.  He holds your inner thigh as he jacks off. Then he straightens your leg so he can see your body better. “God damn,” he murmurs, and the sound of his voice is sharpened by the tile. He rubs your thigh, spits into his other hand, keeps tugging at his cock, then when he's close, he gets up and sits on the edge of the tub. It’s impossible not to look at his stiff, angry cock, glistening with your combined saliva. You still have one knee bent above the water–the knee furthest from him. 
He pumps himself and stands up to face you. “You wanna know how I taste?” He asks. 
You hesitantly shake your head no, unsure if it would be crossing a line.  “Okay, sweetheart. Don't have to.” He aims his cock at the water over your lap, then closes his eyes and groans. “Ohh, God. ohhhh,” it lands sharply in your ears as he erupts. Silky ropes of cum dance in the water, some of it wrapping around your thigh. When he's finished, he pulls his boxers back up, then his jeans, but doesn't zip them up. He sits on the edge of the tub again, leans over it, and kisses you on the forehead. Then he whispers in your ear, “I'll make dinner.” 
—-
You eat together at the kitchen table. There's a cornucopia centerpiece.  The scant conversation is about winter and gardening, until he reaches  under the table and squeezes your thigh. You want him so bad, you blurt out, “what’s happening?” 
He replies, “Huh?” with his hand still on your thigh. 
You search Tommy’s face. “You said it yourself, he’s controlling.” You shift in your chair and he takes his hand back. You continue,  “Why doesn’t he care if you. . .” 
“Ah,” Tommy smiles down at his plate. “Well. . .”  He turns his chair to face you instead of the table. He sits back and manspreads, and his hands rest on his thighs. “I’m just another body to love ya with, sugar.”  His eyes drift to the cornucopia. “And I sure am thankful for it.” 
His eyes return to you, and your heart flutters. 
“He can love on ya when he ain’t here, even.” One of his hands slides up his own thigh to rest closer to his groin. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and nods, admiring you as he slowly exhales. His eyes are darker. 
A desperate want is stirring in your belly. It seems too good to be true. You abruptly announce, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Okay, cupcake. C’mere,” Tommy opens his arms. 
You stand between his legs, bend forward, put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek.  As you pull your head back, his hands on your hips pull you into sitting on his thigh. He brings a hand to your cheek, and it melts you. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ he wouldn’t want,” he reassures you.
You nod. 
“End up on the wrong side of the dirt,” he chuckles. When you don’t laugh, he clarifies, “Me, not you. He’d never hurt ya, cupcake.” 
Then he cradles your head with both hands, studying your eyes and lips.  He wets his lips, and your lips part, watching him. Half his mouth twitches. You’re warm all over. He leans in and looks at your mouth again, getting closer. When you can practically feel the heat of his lips on yours, you close the gap and feel a rush of need when your mouths come together. His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender. You pull away after two seconds. 
“Goodnight,” you whisper. 
—---
You lie in bed missing Joel, wishing he would come home.  You feel more at ease with the two of them.  Your mind drifts to Tommy.  At this rate, you wish he would stay.  You’re almost asleep when the bedroom door creaks open. 
“Daddy?” When you turn over, the moonlit silhouette is Tommy's. He's only wearing boxers and there's already a tent in them. He lifts the covers, and the mattress dips under his weight. 
You ask, “What are you doing?”
“'S’okay, cupcake, I told ya. Promise he won’t be mad.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Your daddy and I been sharin’ our toys for fifty years.”
Your stomach turns, but Tommy adds,  “You're the most special of all, ya know.” He scoots closer. “Never seen him in love before.” 
You feel your body warming and opening up for him. 
“He wants ya to get what ya need, baby,” Tommy whispers. 
Your heart pounds. 
“Even told me your secret word,” Tommy adds. 
“He did?”
“If ya really want me to stop, all ya gotta say is Appleseed.” How would he know that unless Joel told him? 
You turn away from Tommy and he doesn't waste any time before spooning you. His strong arm rests over you and his hand cups a breast. He kisses your neck, soft and wet. The thick, warm rod in his boxers grazes your lower back as he tongues your delicate skin. He kisses your neck with increasing passion, and he kneads your breast.  Then his arousal fully presses against you through his boxers and your nightgown.  
He curves his body around you and pulls you back into him. He sighs and his engorged cock twitches against your crack, giving you a surge of desire. He slides his hand into your nightgown from the top to palm your naked breast and sighs as he grinds against you.  
“God damn, sweetheart,” he whispers as your nipple hardens against his palm. He takes his hand out of your nightgown and cups your breast on top of it again, then his hand slowly slides down your sleepwear, feeling every inch of your torso before arriving at your bare thigh. He nudges his fingers under the hem of your nightgown and slides his hand up your thigh. When his hand reaches your pussy, your top leg lifts ever so slightly, spreading your thighs to make room for him. You're not wearing underwear. 
“Good girl,” he whispers.  You’re aching to have him inside you. “Drippin’ for me ain't ya, baby?” 
He circles your clit, and you moan softly. There's a wet spot on his boxers pressing into you.  “Fuck” he mutters and backs up his hips. “Damnit, I’m drippin’, too,” he chuckles. “Takin’ these off.” 
After taking his boxers off, Tommy hovers over you and you’re still on your side. Tommy's hand comes back to your breast, and you turn your face toward his.  Your lips meet, and after two seconds, you don’t pull away. His lips push yours open and you accept his tongue. You breathe through your nose as he licks into your mouth.  
Tommy pulls back and reads your face, then gives you another soft kiss before settling in behind you, against you, curled around you again. His naked cock is smooth and warm against your ass. He grinds against you for a minute as he massages your breast and moans into your hair.  Then his hand drifts down between your legs and he groans at how wet you are. 
“I gotta be in ya, sugar.” Tommy backs up and wedges his rigid cock between your thighs, and it glides smoothly through your mess of arousal. His tip reaches your clit. You’re throbbing needily. Your hips tilt on their own, offering him your hole. 
“Fuck,” Tommy says as his tip finds your entrance. “Fuck. That’s right, baby.” he pushes his tip into you. You're dying for it, but you're still a little tense and it's making you even tighter. 
“God damn, you feel good. Can't imagine when he first–.” He pushes into you, trying to let your body relax and accommodate his girth. “Oh shit, mmm–that musta been–Fuck.” He pushes a little further. “Relax for me, baby.” He withdraws some then thrusts further into you.  “Relax, sugar,” he whispers. “Just breathe.” You take a deep breath and relax. The last of him slides in and he bottoms out.  “Ohh, good girl. There we go.” He palms your breast and you melt into him.  “We’re right here, baby.” 
He’s got you speared on his cock, spread apart by his girth. “God damn. What a good girl.” 
With his cock fully sheathed, his thick fingers rub circles on your nipple.  You moan, twitching around the new cock buried in the hot center of your body. “Mmm,” he growls into your hair, still not moving. You need friction. He breathes deeply. “breathe with me, baby.” You breathe with him and feel yourself relax more. 
“Please,” you whine, beginning to move your hips. 
His voice is husky. “God damn. Look at ya, sugar. Fuckin’ yourself on Uncle Tommy’s cock?”
“Please,” you whimper again. 
“What's your daddy gonna think?” 
Your walls twitch and your heart skips a beat. “You said–”
“Yeah. . .He'll be fine, sweetheart..” Tommy begins to move his hips. “He’d be proud’a ya, takin’ this cock like such a good girl.”
He begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and cursing softly. You begin to relax with his hand mapping the front of your body, and his stiff cock thrusting into you. He palms your tit again and your head tilts back against him. He kisses your neck, and your body opens for him even more. Your cunt swallows him up with every thrust. 
“Ohh, Joel's a lucky man,” he pants with his dick easily sliding into you, making you whole. “Shit, I'm lucky, too–uggh.”  You push back on him as he fills you with his stiff cock. 
He asks, “Little harder?” 
“Mm,” you nod. 
He slams into you and you moan. 
“Yeah, that's our girl.” 
Soon, you’re lost in the pleasure of Tommy’s thick cock pounding you. 
The front door unlocks and you freeze. You’re both facing away from the bedroom door.  “‘S’okay,” Tommy reminds you. He slows his hips, then bottoms out and pauses. “C’mere,” he wraps his arms around you and with his cock still inside, he rolls over on his back, then sets you down on your other side, arms still wrapped around you, his cock only sliding out half way in the process.
As soon as you’re settled, he bottoms out again with a soft moan.   You and Tommy are both facing the bedroom door now. The covers are down around your waist. The handle moves, then the door opens. The silhouette is Joel with his sleeves rolled up. 
—---
As Joel approaches the bed, the moonlight hits him and his face is dark. 
“She’s so good, Joel,” Tommy pants, with you still full of his cock.
Joel comes to the bed and crouches down. “God damn.” Joel gently takes your jaw in his hand and tilts his head. He studies your face, then his eyes land on yours affectionately. “Couldn't go one day, could ya?” He smiles with his eyes and relief washes over you.  
“M’sorry daddy,” you sigh. “Are you mad?”
“No, baby.” Tommy is fucking you slowly. “I ain't mad.” Joel slowly stands up and palms himself over his jeans as he watches your body move to the slow rhythm of Tommy’s thrusts. 
“Really?”
“Baby, I keep ya stuffed so full’a cock. .  . can't blame ya for needin’ it.”
“Yeah,” you whimper. 
“That's what Uncle Tommy's here for,” Tommy whispers. 
“Now I get to see ya,” Joel says “All of ya,” Joel gently pulls the covers all the way off. Then Joel tugs up at the hem of your nightgown and kneels down to take it off you. 
You try to move forward, reaching for Joel, but Joel puts his hand on your bare chest and Tommy pulls you back, bottoming out again with a moan. 
“Want yours,” you whimper.
“Shhh. You're gonna get it.” 
You watch Joel take off all his clothes, and as he does it, he watches you moving at a slow rhythm.  When Joel’s naked, he spits in his hand. He stands by the bed watching you get fucked by his brother, taking in the view as he squeezes his cock. 
“Daddy, please,” you whine. 
Joel sits down on the bed.  Tommy scooches back to make more room and brings you back with him, still impaled on his cock. Joel lies down and faces you. He gets right up against you, and the first thing he does is kiss you. His hard cock lays against your clit and mound, throbbing for you.  You moan into his mouth as Tommy’s cock drags slowly inside you from behind.  
Joel’s arm wedges between your back and Tommy’s chest, grabbing hold of you.  Joel nudges you upward. Tommy takes the hint and pulls out. You wrap your leg over Joel’s hip. His eyes scan your face, marveling at your feral want. Joel’s hand, still on your back, slides down your ass and hooks under it, between your legs, feeling your sopping wet cunt from the back. “God damn, baby. This all you or did Uncle Tommy cum already?”
“Not yet,” Tommy answers. 
Joel’s tip slides through your folds, then he pulls back  and notches himself at your entrance. He moves his hand to your hip, and pushes into you with a sigh. You're so wet and aroused, he sinks all the way into you.  “Fuck,” Joel breathes. “oh, yeah—ugghh–swallowed me right up, baby.” He marvels at how relaxed you are. With Joel’s arm out of the way, Tommy’s tummy returns flush against your back, with his hard, wet cock pressing against your ass cheek. He grabs your tit. 
Joel buries his cock in you. “Oh baby, you love this, don’t ya?” 
You nod. “Love your cock, daddy.” 
“You’re takin’ it so good, baby.  Think you’re wet enough for—ohh, darlin’.” He grinds against you, deep inside you. “You wanna ride this cock, baby?” 
You nod.  Joel slides out of you and you whimper at the loss as he rolls onto his back. Joel lies face up and holds his cock for you. He whispers, “C’mere baby,” but you're already on your way. 
You straddle him and sink right down on him with a whimpered, “daddy,” then bend forward, putting your tits against Joel’s chest. Tommy’s slowly stroking himself and watching. 
“C’mere,” Joel whispers and reaches for your head. He pulls your face into his for a passionate kiss as you grind into him with his cock buried in you. It only takes a few seconds of grinding into Joel for your walls to spasm. 
“Oh god,” he mutters as you contract around him.  “oh—oh, God, baby.” 
As you finish coming on Joel's cock, your whole body relaxes. You’re even wetter and more open than you were before. “Now you’re–oh yeah, you’re good,” Joel whispers to himself with his hands on the backs of your thighs. You both breathe for a moment and you begin to slowly move again.
Joel licks his finger then reaches over your ass, his hand approaching your hole from behind. You stop moving as he gently wedges the thick digit into your cunt from the top so his fingernail is against his cock. “Yeah,” he whispers, moving the finger around, checking how much you'll stretch. “Yeah,” he says as his head turns and he glances at Tommy. 
Joel cups your cheek  and reads your face. “Can I fuck ya with two cocks, baby?” 
You spasm with an aftershock.  “It won't fit,” you protest, but the thought of it turns you on. Your hips begin to move again. You're taking his cock and his finger. 
“Can we find out, baby doll?” Joel asks.
You slowly move on his cock and finger, with your face close to his. Your clit is throbbing.  “You aren't worried to stretch me?”
“You'll snap right back, baby,” Joel pants as he wedges another finger in with his cock. 
“I dunno if I can,” you whine.  
“It’s okay, darlin’. Let's find out.”
“Okay,” you whisper. 
Tommy gets up on his knees and gets close to Joel's shoulder, near your head.  
“Get it nice and wet,” Joel tells you.  
Without getting off Joel's cock, you turn your head enough to accept Tommy's cock into your mouth. You let saliva pool under your tongue, then swirl it all over his shaft until he's dripping. “alright” Tommy whispers, then you deposit the rest of the saliva from under your tongue. “Alright, don't make me cum, sweetheart.” 
Tommy straddles Joel’s legs behind you while Joel hugs you close. 
Tommy nudges your occupied hole. Joel slowly removes his fingers and Tommy’s tip finds its place between the first cock and the back wall of your cunt. Once Tommy's tip is nestled there, Joel’s fingers leave you and both his hands hold your sides. 
“Deep breath,” Tommy whispers. You draw in a chest full of air, and when you begin to exhale, he begins to push in. 
It burns for a moment as Tommy’s cockhead breaches your dripping hole, but his smooth, wet cock feels better than the fingers. “Fuck,” Tommy mutters as he pushes further. 
“Daddy,” you whimper. “It's a lot.”
“I know it is, darlin’, you're doin’ so good.”
“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers. You take deep breaths and try to relax. The burn fades as your body catches up.  The stretch is only a little uncomfortable around their shafts at the very edge of you. Deeper inside, you feel a fullness you couldn't have imagined.  
“Good,” Joel says. “doin’ real good, baby. You wanna keep goin’?” 
You nod. You take deep breaths and bow your head as Tommy sinks in a little more. 
“God damn, baby. Packed full of it, ain’t ya?”Joel marvels. The look on his face makes you twitch. 
You lock eyes with Joel, bite your lip, and nod. Joel tilts his hips down toward the bed and you groan into Joel’s chest as Tommy pushes into you as much as he can. The burn is fading, and the sense of fullness overwhelms you in the best way. It's not just physical. You close your eyes and savor it. Joel’s hips begin to move. He slides against your front wall, nudging just the right place, making you whimper. 
Tommy slides in rhythm, and his breathing is labored. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Shit-–ugggh.” He warns Joel, “I'm pretty close, brother.”
Joel looks like he's making a calculation behind his eyes. Then he reads your face. “You want double the cum, baby?” 
You nod. 
“That's my girl,” Joel whispers. “That’s my perfect lil girl.” His hips wiggle under you.
“Ohh-fff-uuggh” Tommy pants and pulls back. 
Joel moves his hips and slides within your stuffed hole. Tommy stays still while Joel thrusts a few small strokes and you groan. Tommy pushes forward and you sigh. Joel kisses you. You push back and Tommy slides forward. Joel does another slow thrust upward, then Tommy says “fuck,” pushes another inch, then begins to cum. “Oh god,” Tommy groans. His dick pulses and pulses in your packed cunt as his warm release coats your walls and Joel's cock. 
“Jesus,” Tommy sighs, then begins to pull out of you. The burn returns as the crown of his tip crests your entrance on its way out. Then you whimper in relief. There's a sense of loss as your body slowly draws itself back in, but it's a major comfort still being wrapped around Joel's cock. Tommy lies down on his back to recover. 
“You did so good baby,” Joel brushes your cheek and his hips lift as your body adjusts itself back to his girth. “Ya like havin’ two cocks?” It’s the first time you haven’t felt packed full from Joel’s cock alone, and your temples feel weak. 
You nod hesitantly. “Do I still feel good?”
“Oh darlin’, you feel so good,” he breathes and the tension melts away from your face. 
“Yeah, I liked it,” you whisper. “But I only need one.” 
He cradles your head and  it feels like it's just the two of you. “Love you so much,” he whispers, and brings your face to his again, rolling his hips under you. He kisses you deeply and grinds up into you with his cock all the way inside. Your mouth breaks away with a moan, and your hips begin to move, bringing an obscene squelching sound with them. 
“Oh darlin’,” Joel whispers, and he pulls you back into a kiss.  He grunts into your mouth with a sharp thrust upward, and the tension boils over.  You begin to clench around him. Joel breaks the kiss with a shudder, then he moans your name as you flutter around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you flush, then pulses with a groan. “Ohhhh, fuck—ohhh,” he sighs as he releases a massive load, more than doubling the cum inside you. The rhythm of Joel’s cock soothes you as his load combines with Tommy's. 
—--
You stay on Joel’s cock for a few minutes, and he strokes your back, praising you quietly.  Tommy falls asleep.  Eventually you sigh and whine, "I have to go to the bathroom.” 
“Ok, baby,” Joel whispers and begins to help you off his cock. 
When you come back, Joel helps you into bed between them. You face Joel and he kisses you good night. You feel thankful for him as you drift off to sleep. 
—-
sequel here
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Thank you for reading 🖤 I know people want updates on certain Joels but I haven't been having the easiest time and sometimes writing something new is lower-pressure.
Uncle Tommy is a brain worm I've had for a couple months ever since I blurted it out in another series.
I have another recent Joel x reader ft. Tommy with a different set miller bros: leopard print
And a darker Tommy x reader here: birds of prey
-----
FIC RECS
If you like brotherly sharing, a couple of my personal favorites are I can be your pretty girl parts 4 and 5 (but the whole series) by @walkintotheriveranddisappear, Liquid Gold and its prequel Two Hands to Hold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles,If you like the idea of daddy/uncle, @bonezone44 has Joel, tommy, and Ezra. More brotherly sharing - Smack My Bitch Up, a raider AU by @milla-frenchy. If you wanna suck Tommy's big balls, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin has you covered.
More fic recs (and more to come) on my rec blog @toxicrecs.
Alright I tried to bring my tag list back and something went wrong so I might have to remove them from the post sorry 🥲
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bluebeary-jay · 7 months
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Damage done
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Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader
Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)
Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully
Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts
Word count: 4K
A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌
It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.
So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.
It was about the play at Sarah’s school.
“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”
“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”
You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.
You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.
“It’s your kid, Joel–”
“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”
“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”
“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.
“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.
“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”
“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”
“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.
“No, you’re not.”
“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.
“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.
It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.
Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.
Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…
Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.
“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.
He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.
Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.
You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.
“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
“No, you didn’t…”
“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”
Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.
But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.��
He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.
“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”
He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.
“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”
A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.
“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”
You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.
“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”
“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”
Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.
Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.
“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”
“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”
You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.
“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”
His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.
Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.
You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.
“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”
“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”
You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.
And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.
“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”
“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.
“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.
“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”
Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.
“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”
He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.
Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.
Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.
You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.
Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.
“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”
You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.
And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.
You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…
You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.
You couldn’t lose him.
“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”
You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.
“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”
You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.
“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”
“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”
He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.
“What can I do?”
That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.
“What?”
“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.
“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”
Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.
“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”
The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.
“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”
“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.
“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”
You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”
“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”
You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.
His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.
“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.
“I want to take care of you.”
“But your back pains…”
“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”
You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”
His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.
He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.
But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.
“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.
“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.
“Can you… can you hold me?”
Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.
Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.
You knew you were safe with Joel.
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It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.
Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.
But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.
And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.
When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.
“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.
He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.
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Warning || Men Like Me
Masterlist
Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.
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Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 
Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to. 
Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.
Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 
That was where his troubles began. 
There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.
He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 
“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 
He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.
He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.
“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 
His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 
“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 
“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 
It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.
“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.
His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 
Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 
“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 
“Depends. Do you like it?” 
“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 
“Well then yes, I did make it.”
He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 
“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.
You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 
“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 
“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 
“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”
“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 
“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.
“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.
“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 
“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 
“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 
He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.
“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”
“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 
“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 
He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 
“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.
“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”
Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.
Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.
It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 
Wrong, wrong, wrong. 
You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 
He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 
Fucking disgusting. 
He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 
He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 
He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 
Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 
After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.
The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.
When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 
Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?
It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.
You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 
Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 
It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.
Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 
You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 
So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 
“You alright, sweetheart?” 
Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 
“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 
“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.
Oh fuck, his fucking arms!
“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”
He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 
“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.
Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 
“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 
“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 
He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.
“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 
You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”
“Old. Fifty six.” 
“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.
“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 
“I’m not a doctor yet.” 
“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”
“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.
“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”
“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.
“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 
You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 
“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.
“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 
“Like me.” 
“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 
“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 
“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.
“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.
“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 
“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”
“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.
“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 
“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 
“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 
“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 
“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.
“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 
⌘⌘⌘
It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 
You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.
So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 
You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.
She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.
You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 
Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 
You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 
You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 
He should leave. 
It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 
He should leave. 
Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 
But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 
His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 
Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 
“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”
He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.
Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 
No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 
Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 
He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 
“J-Joel?” 
“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  
Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 
“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 
“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 
“Touch me!” 
It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 
“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 
You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.
“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 
You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.
He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 
“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 
“Any man?” 
“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 
“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 
He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.
A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 
You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 
“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”
“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 
“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 
You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 
“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.
“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 
“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 
He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.
You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 
Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 
You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 
“Joel…” 
“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 
He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 
He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 
“Be a good girl from now.” 
That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.
Part 2
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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months
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all of these were from Pinterest - cause I'm not this funny (I also couldn't wait for the next chapter to come out so here :D)
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Y/n: I’m cool Oscar  Y/n: I’m THEE coolest  Y/n: In fact, I was once arrested for being too cool *puts on sunglasses*  Oscar: The charges were dropped because there was no supporting evidence. Also, your glasses are upside down. 
Y/n: I have a very specific type  Max: Oh yeah? Like what?  Y/n: Y’know…polite, handsome, athletic…that sort of thing  Arthur (on his fourth energy drink of the day) tripping over camera wires and holding his mic upside down: you little shit eating, damned pathetic piece of shit – now you listen here  Y/n: *heart eyes* that one. I want that one.  Max: *flabbergasted* 
Lando: bet you’re standing in the corner because you’re scared that you’ll get turned down if you talk to anyone  Y/n: please, I could fluster near everyone at this party if I chose to  Oscar: oh yeah? Prove it. Go for someone borderline impossible and I’ll believe you Y/n, approaching Arthur: hey dumbass, hoodie looks kind of cute on you, wanna get out of here?  Arthur: WH- I MEAN- UHHHH YEAH SURE  Y/n: perfect  Oscar and Lando: 
Y/n: I brought a red bull  Max: I don’t want a red bull Y/n: I didn’t bring this for you. This is my red bull. Max: then why are you telling me?  Y/n: It’s a conversation starter.  Max: That’s a lousy conversation starter  Y/n: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate *sips red bull* 
Y/n: *gently taps table*  Logan: *taps back*  Alex: what are they doing?  George: morse code Y/n: *aggressively taps table*  Logan: *slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK- 
Lewis: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated  Y/n: Killed without hesitation  Lewis: nO!
Y/n: Is stabbing someone immoral?  Mitch: Not if they consent to it.  Max: Depends on who you’re stabbing.  Christian: YES?! 
Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.  Y/n: Shit  Logan: Wait, three?  Cop: yeah? Lando: OH MY GOSH OSCAR FELL OFF!! 
Max: Time for plan G.  Liam: Don’t you mean plan B?  Daniel: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.  Y/n: What about plan D?  Daniel: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.  Max: What about plan E?  Liam: I’m hoping not to use it. I die in plan E  Yuki: I like plan E. 
Christian: Did none of you think this was a bad idea?  *Y/n, Max, Charles, and Arthur covered in navy and red paint*  Y/n: Oh no, we all did. We just decided to do it anyway. 
George: (in sunglasses and newest Tommy Hilfiger jumpsuit) *in the most posh accent* I’m too good for revenge  Logan: (covered in bug spray, cowboy hat and overalls on, pumped full of Bang energy drink and high on freedom) *cocks shotgun* Well, I’m not. Give me the name. 
Arthur: So what’s your type?  Y/n: Kinda long blond hair, green eyes, dumb, dimples, funny, really thin waist  Arthur: Huh, that kind of sounds like me! Too bad its not me! Y/n: did I mention dumb?  Arthur: yeah, why?  Y/n: just making sure 
*Over Text* 
Y/n: Hey pretty boy, what’re you up to? :) Arthur: Eating cereal in bed  Y/n: And what would you be doing if I was in bed with you?  Arthur:…I would still be eating my cereal? 
Waitress: And what would you like to eat?  Y/n: I wish to devour the unborn  Fernando: Eggs, she would like eggs 
Y/n: Do you think that when sheep go to sleep they count themselves?  Lando: Or do they count humans?  Y/n: Ooo, that’s a good question  Oscar: GO TO SLEEP 
Y/n to Max: because I am a mature adult  *turns to see Mitch, Christian, and Vito shake their heads*  *turns back to Max*  Y/n: I am an adult 
*Dinner with Max, Y/n, Charles, and Arthur* 
Y/n: The food is too cute, I can’t eat it!  Max:  Charles:  Arthur: You’re cute, but I’d still eat y- Max: ONE DINNER  Charles: *sighs* here we go again  Max: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK  Y/n: Charles, this pasta is also crunchy, I truly can’t eat this 
Ollie: Good night everyone  Arthur: Good night  Lando: Good night  Oscar: Good night  Y/n: good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Tonight, imma fight until we see the sunlight. Tik tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop  Oscar: I’M DONE
George (t-posing in the doorway): Greetings, parental figures and sister figure  *Y/n, Lewis, and Toto walking past*  Toto (not looking up from his coffee): Good morning, problem child 
Christian: You see, Fernando, Y/n is at the age where she only has one thing on her mind  Fernando (noticeably excited): Oh! Oh! Oh! Boys?  Max (looking over at the dead tired rookie with revenge in her eyes as she looks at Esteban): No. Murder. 
Y/n: Hey Liam, want some of this food?  Liam: Sure, thanks!  Yuki (storming in with the anger of the gods): WHO TF ATE MY LEFTOVERS THAT CLEARLY HAD MY NAME ON IT  Y/n: WE did  Liam: You surprisingly smart little mf
Y/n: Never have I ever…Been grounded by my parents!  Arthur (exasperated): Every time. She makes disownment jokes every time and she always wins  Max: Good one Kid. I always go for the ‘never had a dad who supported me.’ Charles: *stands up and walks away* 
Y/n: I’ve only said I love you to four people. Christian, Vito, Arthur, and Max when I thought he died after he wouldn’t respond after a DNF. I only regret one of those  Lando: Which one?  Y/n: Max. He was just pressing the wrong button and walked out a few minutes later. He made me look like an idiot.  Max: I let you win next race   Y/n: still
(Y/n, Logan, Lando, and George trying to sneak into RB for more energy drinks after being banned from drinking more) 
Logan: So what do you think Y/n will do as a distraction? Lando: She’ll probably, like, make a noise  George: Or throw a rock. That’s what I would do  *The door flings open and smoke follows. Screams of mechanics fill the air as they try to extinguish a small fire*  Logan:…Or she could do that. 
Y/n: When I die, donate my entire body to science  Y/n: Except my middle finger, give that to Esteban 
(max and y/n in a horror movie) 
Max: QUICK YOU’RE LOSING A LOT OF BLOOD. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?  Y/n (bleeding out): tall, male, brown hair, dimples, caring, supportive, Monegasque Max: BLOOD TYPE DUMBASS  Y/n: oh  Y/n: (looks down at wound)  Y/n: red 
Lando: I wish we could block people in real life.  Oscar: Restraining order  Y/n: Murder 
Christian: Y/n, we need to talk about your professionalism for media days  Y/n (and a lot of media personelle she rounded up, all standing on chairs): those are some mighty brave words for someone standing in lava 
Y/n (to Max while hiding behind some tires – regretting everything): and then I called him dad  Christian (to Geri – trying not to cry while cameras are everywhere): and then she called me dad 
Max: Christian, look what Y/n got me for father’s day *holds up generic #1 dad mug*  Christian (glaring silently while sipping from his own #1 dad mug)  Max: that lying rookie Vito (holding a worn down #1 dad mug): you guys are late to the party suckers 
Criminals: We have your daughter and son  Toto: I don’t have a daughter and Jack is right here Criminals: then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwiches?  Christian: dear God, you have Y/n and George
 
Mitch: So Christian, you and Geri want to be a parents again someday?  Christian: Someday? We’re parents right now.  Mitch: Y/n is your employee Geri: She is our BLOOD 
Christian: Max is late again  Kelly: I woke him up at 8 and pretended it was 11 Y/n: I wrote a fake schedule saying we were starting at 9 instead of 12 Lando: I changed his clock from AM to PM  Christian: I think you may have overdone it  Max (bursting into the garage): WHAT YEAR IS IT? 
Y/n: If I blended Red Bull, five hour energy, monster, coffee, and hot Cheetos into an energy smoothie...would it kill me? Logan: *shrugs* only if you die Y/n (getting out the blender): you're so smart Logan Max (running into the room): y/N STOP!
Lance: I got Netflix like you asked! Y/n: OH that's amazing! I've been mooching off Max's and Arthur's accounts for a while. This will be nice! Lance: Wait, what do you mean accounts? Y/n: Their Netflix accounts? Lance: Y/n: Like their profiles? I wanted one of my own, they're like $12 Lance: Lance:....Oh....You meant the account on the service... Y/n: Yeah, what did you think I meant? Wait...What did you buy? Lance: Lance:....Netflix...
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estrellami-1 · 3 months
Text
Ten Minutes
Didn’t love this when I first wrote it. Left it in my drafts for a LONG freakin’ time. Found it again and no longer care, so here yall go; have fun! Probably not a part 2 to this one.
Steve takes a breath, then another, as he waits for the line to connect. He grits his teeth, feeling eyes on him. He does his best to ignore them.
“Munson residence, if you’re calling about the murders I’ve been absolved of, try going to hell instead.”
“I need you to pick me up.”
A pause. “Stevie?”
Steve takes another breath. Tries to unclench his jaw. “Please.”
“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there- what-”
“My parents are in town.”
Another pause. “I’ll be there in ten. Try not to kill them.”
Steve laughs humorlessly. “Just hurry.”
“Ten minutes,” Eddie says, and hangs up.
Steve sighs, places the phone in its socket, and turns back to face his parents.
His mother is narrowing her eyes at him. “Who was that?”
“A friend,” he says lightly.
“Who, that Hagan boy?” His father scoffs.
“No. Not Tommy. I haven’t spoken to him in years.”
“Oh, Steve,” his mother tuts. “Always so dramatic. We’ve not even been gone a year-”
Steve laughs. It sounds hollow. “Try four years,” he informs her. “And three concussions. Did you hear about the mall two years ago? Or the boy who went missing four years ago?” He shakes his head when his mother looks at him blankly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father snaps. “And don’t you dare speak to your mother in that tone again, Steven. You’re still a child and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you as such.”
“I’m twenty,” Steve says evenly. “I’ll be twenty-one in five months.” He crosses his arms. “The last time you saw me, I was a freshman in high school. I’ve graduated. I found jobs. Lost some friends and made some better ones.”
“And what of that girl you were dancing around?” His mother asks. “Karen’s daughter?”
“We’re friends,” he says shortly, then moves through the kitchen, to the stairs. “Excuse me.”
“No,” his father says. “You’re not excused. Where do you think you’re going?”
Steve turns, one hand on the bannister, to look at the man who had terrified him the last time he’d seen him. It’s funny what interdimensional threats will do. “To pack a bag. I’m not going to stay here while you are.”
“And if I were to say we’re staying for good?”
Steve laughs. “Dad, you’ve said that before. Multiple times, actually. Those words mean nothing to me anymore.”
“And where are you planning on staying?” His mother asks. “Honestly, Steven, I thought we raised you to make better decisions than this.”
“Oh, I see. So it was raising me when I woke up at nine years old to discover you’d left and I’d have to find my own way to school. Then a week later when I had to ride my bike to the store to buy groceries. At eleven, when I looked the school counselor in the eye and said you’d be back soon. I had to go to my own parent-teacher conferences. At fifteen, trying to figure out high school classes. At seventeen when I got my first concussion. At eighteen when I signed my first legally-binding NDA. You hadn’t abandoned me. You were raising me.” He sighs, shakes his head. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
He makes his way up to his room and packs as much as he can. Clothes. Vinyls. The box of cash under the loose floorboard. Then into the bathroom. Toothbrush, deodorant, even his shampoo. Doubles back into his room to grab a bracelet off his nightstand; one El made him.
He looks around, grabs the nail bat, and makes his way downstairs. His mother gasps when she sees him. “What on earth is that?”
He looks at the bat. Adjusts his grip, twirls it around. “An NDA.”
The doorbell rings. Steve grabs his bags and moves towards it. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never walk back in.”
“Fine by me,” Steve says. He grabs his keys, tosses the house key at his father, and pockets the rest.
He opens the door and grins at Eddie, who’s looking at him worriedly. “Hey, Eds. Ready to go?”
Eddie blinks. “Um. Sure? Are you okay?”
“Sure,” Steve shrugs. “I’m getting kicked out. If you don’t want to take me I’ll just go bug Robin. It’ll only be for a little while, though, just until I find a better job and an apartment or something.”
“Like hell Wayne’s gonna miss this chance,” Eddie grins. “You know you’re his favorite.”
Steve smiles back, tosses his things into the back of Eddie’s van. “I hoped you were gonna say that.”
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asbealthgn · 9 months
Text
wrote this goofy thing as an expansion of this post
It’s very surprising when the door to Eddie’s trailer opens and Eddie is standing there with flowers.
It’s even more surprising when he says, “Happy one month!” with a big grin.
Steve looks back and forth between Eddie and the flowers—wildflowers by the look of them, probably picked around the edges of the trailer park. “Uh, one month of what?”
Eddie gives him an uncertain smile like he’s not sure if Steve’s being serious or not. “Of our relationship,” he says, the last syllable tilting up almost like a question.
Huh. Kind of weird, but at the start of summer Steve and Robin had an ice cream party to celebrate the year anniversary of when they started at Scoops together. So it’s not like this is completely unheard of. Except—
“You and I have been friends for longer than a month,” Steve says, “It’s been like—” he tries to count the months since spring break in his head “—at least four? Unless you don’t count when you were unconscious in the hospital, but that was only a couple weeks, so—”
“I mean one month of our relationship,” Eddie says, putting emphasis on the word. And now his eyebrows are drawn together. Face concerned. And Steve is clearly missing something here.
Did something significant happen a month ago? Some moment where they moved from friends to best friends or something? It was probably about a month or so ago the first time Steve spent the night at Eddie’s trailer, but that wasn’t a huge deal. Steve has spent the night at the Byers’ house before and it’s not like he and Jonathan are breaking out the balloons to commemorate it. 
Steve feels guilty, because clearly there’s something that Eddie thinks he should know that he doesn’t. He doesn’t like this nervous look on Eddie’s face. Steve tries to think like Nancy, tries to put the clues together. But he’s not Nancy. So he’s lost. 
“I’m sorry, dude,” Steve says, “I don’t get what you mean.”
Eddie deflates.
“I know we haven’t necessarily defined it.” His voice is wavering, eyes getting watery. Shit shit shit, what did Steve do? This is so completely out of nowhere and Steve doesn’t know how to fix it. “But I didn’t realize it was actually that insignificant to you.”
Steve shoots his arm out to stop Eddie from closing the door on him. He needs to figure out what’s going on so he can make it right, and that’s not gonna happen if Eddie shuts him out. “Eds, seriously, you’re gonna have to fill me in,” he says, “‘Cause I honestly don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Seriously?” Eddie asks, anger over taking the sadness in his voice, “You’re gonna act like you don’t know?”
“I don’t!” Steve nearly shouts, desperate. “Please, man, I’m not trying to piss you off here. Whatever it is, I wanna make it right. You just have to tell me what you mean.”
“You and I,” Eddie says. Looking at him like it should be obvious. When it’s so, so not. It makes Steve want to scream. “We’re—I thought we were together.”
“Together? Like…together how?”
Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie look this pissed off. “Use your goddamned brain, Harrington,” he spits, “Like together.”
Oh. Okay. That’s…something. It’s not that Steve would necessarily be opposed, or even that he hasn’t thought of it. It’s just not true. They’re not together. And he’s not sure why Eddie thinks they are. Yeah, they’re close, but it’s not like they’re closer than Steve and Robin. It’s not like they’re closer than Steve was to Tommy back in the day. He and Eddie haven’t done anything that feels outside the realm of friendship to him. And he definitely didn’t realize that Eddie saw it any differently.
“Um,” Steve says, aware that he’s standing like an idiot on Eddie’s doorstep and needs to answer. “Why?”
“Oh my God,” Eddie says, making as if to close the door again. Steve barely catches it in time. It makes Eddie glare at him. “There’s no way you’re being serious,” he says.
Keeping one hand on the door, Steve throws up the other one in a gesture he stole from Robin. “I really am,” he says, “You know what the kids say. I’m an idiot. You really have to lay things out for me.”
That at least makes Eddie soften a few degrees. “You’re not an idiot, Steve,” he says, “You’re just—oblivious, apparently.”
“Yeah, that too.”
Eddie sighs. “Just come in. We can talk about it.” He steps back and lets Steve come inside. The flowers are still clutched in Eddie’s hand, starting to wilt. Eddie sets them on the table before joining Steve on the couch. 
“A month ago is when you stayed over for the first time,” Eddie says. Steve nods. “And you kissed me.” Steve nods again. Eddie lifts his eyebrows significantly. “You’re not seeing the connection?”
Steve shrugs. “I mean, I guess there’s other ways you could construe that,” he says, “But I thought it was, like, a friend kiss. A goodnight kiss.”
“A friend kiss,” Eddie says flatly. “You kiss a lot of your friends?”
“Sure,” Steve says, “Well, Robin prefers forehead kisses and Jonathan’s more of a hug guy, but I used to kiss Tommy and Carol all the time.”
Disbelief is the main emotion on Eddie’s face. And a whole lot of other ones that Steve can’t quite parse out. “So—everything we’ve done,” Eddie says, slowly, like he’s trying to come to terms with it. “It’s all just…been normal friend shit to you?”
Steve thinks back over the last month, trying to think if anything stands out in his head as non-platonic. Maybe there’s been a time or two when he was kissing Eddie or cuddling up to him in bed or sitting on his lap during D&D where Steve’s felt a sort of stirring deep in his belly. But he figured that was one-sided. His body’s reaction to whatever was happening and not a manifestation of, like, feelings or something. After all, the same thing used to happen with Tommy when they’d do similar stuff. And clearly they were just friends.
After a full twenty seconds of Steve not answering, Eddie drops his head in his hands. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he lifts his head. “This—you—the other day. You slept over. We made out. You—you took my fucking shirt off, Steve.”
Yeah, that did happen. And Steve doesn’t have a great explanation for it. “I don’t know,” he says, “It was the heat of the moment or whatever.”
“The heat of the moment,” Eddie repeats, and Steve can’t tell if he’s on the verge of tears or the verge of laughing. Eddie puts his arm on the back of the couch and leans toward Steve. “Can you honestly say that you’re not attracted to me at all?”
Annoyingly, Steve can feel his face start to heat. “I never said that,” he mutters.
For the first time, Eddie looks triumphant. “So you are attracted to me?”
“Yeah, man,” Steve says, squirming uncomfortably. Of course he’s attracted to Eddie. What’s not to be attracted to? He’s smart, funny, hot, good with the kids, good on the guitar, good at kissing. Helped save the world. “You’re, like, it for me. I definitely think about you that way. I just didn’t think you thought about me that way.”
Eddie laughs, the sound containing more disbelief than humor, but still overall a good thing. “I can’t believe the guy who’s been sharing my bed for the past month didn’t think I was into him.”
“Hey, you’re not the only person whose bed I’ve shared.” Shit, that was a bad way to put it. “Platonically.”
Shaking his head, Eddie laughs again. “Clearly, your idea of platonic does not line up with mine,” he says. “But you mean it? You’re into me?”
“Yeah, Eds,” Steve says, “I’m into you.”
“So, does that mean you’d want to be my boyfriend?”
“Apparently I already have been for the past month,” Steve says, grinning.
Eddie grins back. “Doesn’t count if you didn’t know.”
“Then we can count from today,” Steve says, “Starting now, I’m your boyfriend.”
He hasn’t finished saying the last word before Eddie is surging forward and taking Steve’s face in his hands. He shifts onto Steve’s lap, kissing him deeply. 
And it doesn’t feel platonic at all.
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lace-coffin · 4 months
Note
Hi! Can I ask how the slashers would feel if they ever accidentally hurt their s/o? Gender and everything is up to you!
How slashers would react to Accidently hurting their S/O
Thank you so much for my first ever request ah! I hope you enjoy 💖
Requests are open!
Warning for blood/injury - mild sexual content/reference to sexual activity and power dynamics -unhealthy relationships (I think?)
Reader is gender neutral!
Bubba sawyer
Most likely happened via bubba playing to hard and Accidently pushing you over or squeezing you to hard. If it’s a case of them mistaking you for a victim and catching you with their chainsaw before stopping they’ll be even more in inconsolable.
Stops and stares for a minute to process what’s happened before devolving into full blown panic
She’ll drop whatever she’s doing to carry you back to the house, even if that means letting the victim escape and having Drayton yell at her.
Will hurriedly explain in rushed sign to either choptop or nubbins to go take care of the victim as he’s busy caring for you
Checks you over frantically. Please explain you’re going to be ok and help them calm down.
Once he knows you’re not in any danger he’ll feel absolutely awful about it and whine apologies to you even if you tell him it’s ok and it wasn’t their fault
Please comfort them once you feel better and reassure them.
Will insist you come up with a verbal and nonverbal sign to give if they’re Accidently messing around to hard.
Will make you agree to stay in the house out of the way when victims are around so you don’t Accidently get hurt again.
Thomas Hewitt
After another night of Hoyt berating him for things out of his control Tommy storms off to the basement to cool off. You follow him wanting to comfort him. You touch him despite him not liking physical touch without warning thinking it might help and he grabs your wrist a little to hard and you wince.
He snatches his hand back as soon as he realises what he’s done
Tommy will bring you to Luda may to have her check you over and assess the damage
Once he knows you’re safe he’ll confine himself to the basement for a few days, only coming out to eat but even then it’s tense
He’s truly sorry and feels like all those people who called him a monster and an animal were right, he hurt the one he cares about most after all
After a few days apart, a lot of hushed words of affirmation and kisses/nose bumps he’ll feel comfortable being with you again
You know to let him cool off by himself and come to you when he’s ready after a heated argument now.
Michale Myers
You jump out At Michael thinking it would be funny to catch the shape off guard for once and not the other way around. Unfortunately this backfires and he swings his knife at you, thinking it may be an intruder since you’ve never pulled something like this before. You manage to jolt out of the way but the knife still catches you in the shoulder. Thankfully it’s only superficial and will heal but it still looks like it needs medical attention.
Initially Michael looks at you unamused, granted it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling under the mask. He gives you a kind of “well If you weren’t being dumb this wouldn’t have happened” attitude. However this is a front for the actual panic he refuses to show on the surface.
Having a few cuts and scratches isn’t super uncommon when your with Michael considering his tastes involving knives in bed 😌
Usually hurting others comes naturally and without remorse to Michael and it shakes him that he’s actively worrying about your wellbeing.
It disturbs him that he actually cares about someone enough to feel remorse for his actions.
After unceremoniously pulling your shirt off and looking the wound over he makes you go to A&E
Since he’s basically an escaped criminal he can’t casually walk in the hospital with you, however he will stalk you the entire time, lurking not far behind to make sure you arrive and leave safely.
Although he usually has his guard up he vows to try be a little less bristly with you from now on if it means he doesn’t have to see you hurt and feel that awful tug of regret/worry in his chest.
Jason voorhees
You went out looking for Jason one night after he hadn’t returned to the cabin by his usual time. You were worried he’d been overpowered by a group of trespassers and didn’t have any way to communicate that to you since the woods is so vast.
Whilst looking for him you get your leg caught in a bear trap he had set for the trespassers. You howl in pain as you hear the sickening snap of your ankle between the traps jaws.
Jason was on his way back to the cabin when he heard this. Knowing that wasn’t a trespasser as he’d already cleared them out alarm bells went off in his head. He stormed to scene as fast as he could.
He could have sworn his undead heart stopped for the second time as he saw you sitting there in agony, murky blood seeping into the forest floor.
He rushes to your side and looks frantically between the trap and your teary face, he knows he’s going to have to disengage the traps and for you it’s going to be..not so pleasent.
He signs for you to grip onto his arm as he’s doing it. Since he’s already dead and regenerates he feels it’s the least he can do to let you grip his arm for dear life as he wrenches the trap from your shattered ankle. If you cause any damage to his arm (which is very unlikely) it will heal up in no time anyway.
Once he’s carried you back to the cabin he’ll be frantically following Pamela’s directions in his head for what to do and how to clean/ wrap it.
If the damage is extensive he’ll relent and let you go to the hospital, only if a trusted friend takes you though and he’ll be sitting by the window your shared cabin every minute until you return back to him.
Your no longer aloud to be out in the woods after dark alone it he’s set traps. You both carry whistles now so if he’s not home and you need to know he’s safe you can whistle to each other.
Billy Lenz
Interacting with Billy when he’s having an episode is never a good idea. You thought it would be ok to just he in the room though. As you enter Billy is in the midst of trashing his attic once again, the disgusting feelings bubbling in his chest to much to bear. You enter just as he’s thrown an old glass christmas ornament at the floor that the sorority had kept in storage in the attic. It shatters and flecks of glass scatter along the floor. One piece catching you in the hand in a nasty glass splinter. You swear under your breath and rush of to take care of it.
Billy doesn’t even realised what’s happened until you return to him after he’s exhausted himself. You bring him a sandwich and juice knowing he’ll need it after all the energy and tears he just used up.
As his hand touches yours whilst accepting the plate he noticed the bandage.
Billy essentially bristles up like an angry cat at the idea of someone hurting his piggy and demands to know who did it and what happened.
Once you tell him it was actually from the ornament he feels horrible. He doesn’t even remember it happening in the state he was in.
He snuggles into the crook of your neck and mumbles apologies into your skin.
Billy will place sloppy kisses over it as an apology until you forgive him. (Not exactly hygenic since it’s an open wound but i mean…you’re dating the attic rat)
Brahms Heelshire
When living with Brahms there isn’t usually much to injure yourself on considering the estate is fairly out of the way from the rest of the village. You most likely caught yourself on a pair of sheers. Brahms is being stubborn about you being out of the house and slings the sheers in your general direction from the door frame when you ask for them. You don’t even notice you caught your hand when catching them until you see a patch of blood on your gardening gloves about ten minutes later.
You come in to grab a tea towel to wrap your bleeding finger in, not really fazed as it’s only a small cut. Brahms was lurking from the window as you tended to the hedges, not wanting to be away from you but not yet brave enough to tempt leaving the house he’s been in all these years.
As soon as he sees it he’s panicking, it’s only a little cut and you’re not concerned but to Brahms you may as well have just came in with an arm missing. He’s instantly flittering around you asking if your ok and if your need a hospital.
You stifle your laugh at his over the top concern because you find it rather sweet, it’s not his fault he’s a little sheltered.
After cleaning the cut and bandaging it it’s totally fine. If anything Brahms needs more reassuring and coddling than you do to get him to settle.
He apologises a thousand times for his attitude because he knows If he hadn’t been stroppy about you leaving the house and passed the sheers nicely then you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. He promises to try be more composed when he starts getting antsy.
He may need some ✨punishment✨ in order to encourage his behaviour change and to feel forgiven 👀
He begrudgingly lets you back outside to garden after about a week.
Asa Emory
If you’re the pet of Asa then it’s likely most of your injuries are purposefully given from him and are no mistake. You’re poked and prodded often at your place in the collection. Wounds from experiments and correctional punishments when you disobey or refuse to submit are not uncommon at all. So it doesn’t bother him since he inflicted them. This also assures he cleans them with clinical precision. If you were anyone else in his collection he would leave the wounds to fester and if you died from a complication then that was just inconvenient. Not you though, you’ve caught his attention and heart. He loves you in his own domineering way.
If the wound was created by him and an accident he would give himself a hard time.
For example if he had more trouble with law enforcement than he thought he would and that led to you to spending way more time in the trunk than you usually do. You develop a sore from sitting in one cramped position for so long.
Asa would realise your hurt once you’re let out of the trunk and hiss in pain as you stretch. He makes you show him where it is so he can inspect it.
Despite Asa’s stony face his stomach is actively sinking. He knows your hurt because of him and it want even on purpose. He sees this as fault in his care of his pet and a blow to his god complex due to making mistakes. Gods don’t make mistakes.
He’ll make sure to clean it for you and even stop putting you in the trunk for a while. This does still mean you’ll be attached to him via leash or chain connected to the ring sitting on his hips where he keeps his keys. Just because your hurt and his favourite doesn’t mean he will except anything less than your complete and total submission.
He’ll be more tender and soft handed with you than usual to a while after. Punishments will be withheld until you heal. Then it is back to normal as expected.
Predator/yautja
You were wearing a new perfume you’d picked up at the market. You were only supposed to be getting meats and maybe a new fur for the bed but once the alien at the stand had convinced you to sample it you fell in love with it.
Your mate picks up on an unknown scent entering the house and stalks towards it. As soon as they catch the heat signature they throw a wrist blade in warning.
Their eyes widen and they rush to the door as they smell your tangly blood hit the floor of your house on yautja prime.
The new perfume hid your familiar scent from them and made them believe the house was being intruded on. If their face could loose colour it would as they see the wrist blade sticking through your palm, groceries discarded at the door.
They start talking at you in rapid clicks before they realise you can’t understand. After making sure to keep the object in your hand so it doesn’t bleed more and that your not going to pass out they insist on carrying you their medic instead of finding a human one.
They argue that their medicine is far more advanced and will heal your wound much more efficiently then your “ primitive ooman medicine”
Thanks to yautja medicine being far more advanced the wound is stitched shut and you’re given some kind of injection. It will heal like nothing ever happened in around two weeks.
Your mate purrs and clicks for you deep from their chest the entire time you’re having the blade removed to try calm you.
They beg for forgiveness despite it being an accident and will need reassurance that they haven’t failed you as a mate. Once you’re healed they’ll bring back an impressive skull from a hunt as an apology even if you’ve already forgiven them.
Whilst it’s healing you’re probably going be kept in the nest of furs and pulled against them whilst they purr and sooth you.
My requests are open if you’d like to send any prompts or ideas for me to write!
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pucksandpower · 7 months
Note
if requests are open, can I pls request baby vettel telling her brothers (the grid kids) she has a "boyfriend" when she comes home from kindergarten one day ??? if requests are closed, please ignore 💗 love your works so much !!
Grid Kids: Cooties
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: the grid kids take being big brothers very seriously
Series Masterlist
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“No.”
Max’s voice is firm, his face aghast.
Charles, sitting next to him, nods in agreement. “I thought we agreed that you’re not allowed to date until you’re 40?”
Your daughter looks up from her crayon artwork, her little brows furrowing. “But Tommy said we’re boy ... boyfr …”
Lance interrupts, “Boyfriend and girlfriend? No, no, no. Absolutely not.”
George chimes in, holding up a toy car, “Tell whoever this Tommy is that you’re too busy racing to have a boyfriend.”
Lando adds, “Besides, boyfriends mean cooties. Do you want cooties?”
She tilts her head, pondering the dire consequences of these so-called cooties.
Charles, trying to be the voice of reason, kneels down to her level. “Sweetie, you’re a smart, wonderful little girl. And Tommy is, well ... you can do better.”
Mick, watching the entire exchange, laughs. “Guys, she’s just a kid. They’re probably just sharing crayons.”
Lando looks scandalized, “Crayons today, hearts tomorrow. It’s a slippery slope!”
Sebastian, watching the overprotective madness unfold, turns to you with a smirk, “I think our daughter has a solid set of bodyguards.”
You laugh, wrapping an arm around him. “Good luck to any actual future boyfriends.”
Your daughter simply shrugs, scribbles something on a piece of paper, and hands it to Charles. “For Tommy.”
Charles reads aloud, “We can be friends. But no cooties. Okay?”
***
The next day after school, Max bends down to your daughter’s eye level, “Now, which one is Tommy?”
She points a tiny finger to a little boy playing with a toy car on the playground. He has sandy hair and an innocent expression as he makes car noises.
Lando claps his hands together, “Alright, mates, game faces.”
George rolls his eyes but can’t help his grin, “Really? We’re really doing this?”
Lance nudges him, “We have to ensure he’s good enough for our sister!”
As the grid kids approach Tommy, he looks up, wide-eyed at the small army of grown-ups marching towards him.
Charles squats down, “Hey there, buddy. You Tommy?”
Tommy nods slowly, clutching his toy car.
George, leaning down too, tries to sound stern, “We heard you’re, uh, dating our sister.”
Lando, animatedly acting out air quotes around the word dating, adds, “We just wanted to have a quick chat.”
Mick, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious, jumps in, “You know, about intentions and all.”
Tommy blinks, “Inten-what?”
Max clears his throat, “Look, Tommy, we just want to make sure you’re treating our sister right. No stealing her toys or snacks.”
Lando jumps in again, “And absolutely no cooties. We had a long talk about that.”
Tommy nods fervently, “I don’t have cooties!”
Charles chuckles, “Good to know. So, you’ll play nice with her?”
Tommy nods again, “I promise. I just wanted to show her my new car.” He holds up the toy proudly.
George pats him on the head awkwardly, “Alright, Tommy. Just remember, we’re watching you.”
***
“Operation Sneaky Sneak is a go. Over,” Lando whispers dramatically into his walkie-talkie from his hiding spot behind a bush.
“Copy that,” George responds, trying to peer into Tommy’s living room window from a tree branch, “They’re ... playing with dolls? Oh, and there are some cookies. Over.”
Lance, hidden behind a garden gnome, chimes in, “I hope they're chocolate chip. Over.”
Charles, from his spot on top of a garden shed, adds, “No visual on any suspicious activities. Just some Barbies about to get the worst haircut of their life. Over.”
Mick, wedged between two trash cans, mutters, “Feels like we’re in a bad spy movie.”
Max, crouching behind a car, counters, “Feels? We ARE in a bad spy movie.”
Suddenly, the back door to Tommy’s house swings open and out step his parents, chatting and laughing. The grid kids freeze.
George, panicking, whispers into the walkie-talkie, “Abort mission! I repeat, abort!”
Lance tries to slink away, “Going dark! Going dark! We have been compromised.”
But it’s too late. Tommy’s mother spots them. “Um, gentlemen? What are you doing?”
Charles attempts to play it cool, “Oh, you know, just ... birdwatching. Beautiful sparrows around here.”
Tommy’s father suppresses a grin, “In our backyard? With walkie-talkies?”
Lando, thinking on his feet, responds, “Modern birdwatching. Very high tech. Over.”
Mick gives him a look, “Did you seriously just say over out loud?”
Max tries to salvage the situation, “We just wanted to ensure the playdate went ... smoothly.”
Tommy’s parents burst into laughter. “You guys really care about her, huh?”
Before anyone can respond, there’s a rustling from above. Thunk! “Ow!” Thwack! “Not the face!” Crash! “My hair!”
Everyone’s attention is immediately drawn to George who has dramatically fallen out of the tree, hitting almost every branch on the way down.
Rubbing his back, George groans from where he’s splayed on the ground, “Guess I should leave the climbing to the kids.”
Tommy’s mother takes pity on the fully grown children masquerading as adults in front of her, “Would any of you like to come in for juice boxes?”
The grid kids exchange sheepish glances. “Yes, please,” they reply in unison.
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marriedtobigfoot · 11 months
Text
Part two of this story, where Robin discovers Steve’s type. A lot of people seemed interested in more, so here you go! 
The conversation doesn’t go quite the way Robin is expecting it. She’s fully prepared for Steve to launch into saying how confused he is because he’s feeling weird pants feelings for Eddie, but how does that work because he likes girls? She’s been mentally preparing herself for that exact discussion since she watched Eddie Munson call her best friend ‘Big Boy’ in the middle of committing grand theft auto. So when Steve starts talking, curled up on the gross linoleum tile of Family Video, she’s taken by surprise. She doesn’t even get the chance to answer his question before he’s throwing her prepared speech out the metaphorical window. 
“That’s stupid, you already told me that. Sharon Parker in the 5th grade, holding hands for Red Rover, blah blah blah, I know that. But like…Have you ever acted different around a girl, and then one day, you realize it’s because you like her? Like, you had a crush on a girl without even realizing it? Does that make any sense?” 
It takes Robin a second to reboot, but the second she manages, Steve throws her even further off track. 
“It’s just, Tommy H came by the other day, and he said some stuff that really has me thinking and-” 
Robin can’t stop herself. As soon as she hears a name other than Eddie Munson, she has a hand out covering Steve’s mouth. He gives her a look, surprised and confused. Maybe a little annoyed. She valiantly ignores him because what he just said has her head spinning, and she needs to put a stop to it right now. 
“Steve. My best friend in the whole universe. I’m here for whatever you need and whatever you might be figuring out about yourself. You know I’m going to support you 100% no matter what happens but…Please. PLEASE tell me that you didn’t just discover you have a crush on TOMMY H! He isn’t even your type, Steve! He isn’t even in the ballpark of your type! He’s so far off it’s honestly kind of laughable and-” 
Now it’s Steve who puts a hand over her mouth. 
“Jesus, Robin! First of all, gross. I’m not into Tommy, okay? Never gonna happen, not in a million years. And second, what the hell do you mean ‘my type?’ What the hell would you know about my type?” 
Robin carefully removes his hand from her face and shakes her head. She has absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, but there’s still a chance it can work its way somewhere good. Somewhere Munson-related. And she owes it to Steve to listen to his crisis properly. 
“Nevermind, forget that. What happened with Tommy?” 
“Okay well, he came over, like I said. He was super wasted, and I guess he and Carol broke up? And he started talking about when we were friends, and how he always used to try and get closer to me. He said he almost asked me if I wanted to practice kissing once? And he talked about like, trying to touch me all the time, trying to make me laugh? Basically saying he had a crush on me, which was super weird.” 
Robin nodded, because really, she had no idea what to say to that. 
“And then he kissed me. Which was kind of gross because he tasted like whisky and he was being all sloppy, like he wanted to eat my face. But…” 
“But?” 
“It wasn’t as gross as I would have expected I guess.” 
“I thought you said you didn’t like him!” 
“I don’t! It just, wasn’t a totally horrible kiss okay? Only a little horrible.” 
Robin sighed and let her head tip back against the wall. 
“Okay, I’m not seeing your dilemma yet. Tommy liking you and kissing you is kind of weird sure, but it doesn’t change anything about you.” 
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a puff of air. He looked small in this bathroom, scared in a way that Robin hated. They had faced down monsters, torture, long shifts with Keith. A conversation with his best friend should never have Steve looking that afraid, ever. 
She reached out and took his hand in her, giving it a gentle squeeze. 
“Hey, it’s okay Steve. Tell me what’s going on in that head.” 
“It’s just…Some of what Tommy said. About how he tried to get closer to me, to touch me and make me laugh and shit? I guess I realized that I’m doing that stuff. With somebody else. And if Tommy did it because he liked me then…” 
“You think it might mean you like this person. This…guy?” 
“Yeah. This guy.” 
There it was, the Eddie Munson of it all. Because Robin only knew of one guy that Steve spent his time with and would be trying to be touchy and close with. She had watched it happen with her own eyes, the way Steve would look for reasons to lean past Eddie, to put a hand on his shoulder, his back, once getting brave and putting a hand on his waist. She’d watched Eddie do the exact same things around Steve, too.
Part of her almost just comes out and tells Steve, that she knows who he’s talking about. Except he still looks unsure. He looks like he wants to throw up a little, and Robin has to fix that. 
“You know it’s okay right? For you to like this guy?” 
“I know. It’s just weird, to realize I might like him that way. Normally I can figure out when I’m into someone.” 
“Well, normally you aren’t friends with the people you’re into first. That makes it confusing.” 
“And I’m normally into people with boobies.” 
“That too.” 
Steve lets out a tiny laugh, and it makes Robin beam. Something about Steve is lighter now, like somethings been lifted off his chest, something that’s been there for a really long time without him knowing. She wants to tell him how much she’s loves him. How much she cares about him and supports him. She wants to tell him about all her research, and fully explain to him her findings when it comes to ‘his type.’ 
She wants to tell him that she knows the guy he likes is Eddie. That she thinks Eddie might like him too. 
The ‘ring for service’ bell ruins her chance at saying any of it. 
She and Steve both clamber off the floor, adjusting their vests before exiting the bathroom to greet whoever keeps ringing the stupid bell over and over again. Robin can’t decide if it’s the best luck in the world, or the worst, when it’s Eddie Munson himself standing at the counter. 
She leans towards best luck when she sees the way Steve’s cheeks go red.
A few people asked to be tagged if I did a part 2, so hopefully I do that right! I’ve got a few more parts planned, so if anybody else wants to be tagged let me know and I’ll do my best!
@kaiscove​ @wolfstarlights​  @awkwardgravity1​ @anonymousbandgirl​  @f1ct1onwh0re
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koqabear · 9 months
Text
love fool ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
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♫: Seven, Jungkook // Lovefool, The Cardigans // I only want to be with you, Tommy february6
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“In which Yeonjun is more than willing to show you the lengths he’ll go for you.”
yeonjun x fem!reader
Genre: established relationship, inspired by “Seven” mv, fluff, angst, smut
Word count: 10.6K
warnings: don’t take this story seriously pls. it’s ridiculous. yj is clingy. and emotional. and a bit pathetic. the mc is avoidant… and a bit of a bitch ! Lack of communication smh, a bit toxic if u squint ur eyes but it’s supposed to be cute idk (seven mv type toxic skdjdj) yj is a frat boy & a himbo (pick a struggle, pls), arguing, mc has acrylic nails, use of the phrase “boyfriend-girlfriend” bc i’m obsessed w it
smut warnings: mean dom!mc, sub!yj, (mentions of dom!yj) service top!yj, unprotected sex, manhandling (m. rec), hairpulling, name calling, (bitch, stupid, slut, etc) pet names (baby, good boy), dry humping, biting, marking, scent kink (?), scratching, dumbification, dacryphilia, forced orgasm (kinda), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, yj rambles. a lot. breast play, handjob, humiliation, creampie, subspace, implied oral (f. rec) (lemme know if i should add anything!)
Notes: fucking hate arguing with men w/ pretty puppy eyes like i will fuck the shit outta y-
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Yeonjun hates when you’re mad at him. It makes him feel guilty and leaves him with a gross feeling in his stomach, pouty and annoying as his friends are always left to deal with the mess. 
It doesn’t happen often— he tries his hardest not to make you mad, always saying yes and going above and beyond with you— he loves to please you and make you happy, which is exactly why it hits harder when you look at him like you never want to see him again. 
“I don’t want to see you around, don’t talk to me!”
But sometimes, he just can’t help it. 
He seriously doesn’t know what he did wrong— there were no anniversaries forgotten, no plans he stood you up on, no petty arguments— and yet, here he sits, sinking into his couch and burrowed in blankets as his friends try to get him to come out of his cocoon, all with no success.
“Is she mad at you again?” Beomgyu asks, his voice muffled despite sitting on top of Yeonjun— literally, he couldn’t feel his legs— and he hears him groan at the sight of Yeonjun nodding under the mass of blankets, cursing quietly to himself and undoubtedly rolling his eyes, “dude, what did you do?”
“I don’t knowww,” Yeonjun cries out, throwing the blankets off him and onto Beomgyu as he whines— he watches as Beomgyu flails about for a second, running his hands through his hair as he continues to stress about you, “she— she said she didn’t wanna see me again, but I miss her…”
“Fuck, she’s probably just saying that because she wants space— dude, are you crying?”
“What if she was breaking up with me?” Yeonjun asks, and Beomgyu is amazed to see the way his wide eyes are welling up with tears; god, he’s actually crying now, the sight childish and unhinged as he watches his (older) friend sniffle and hiccup through his sentences, “what if— what if she— she, she, she really meant it— god, I don’t wanna break up, I don’t even know what I did wronggg!”
“Okay, okay,” Beomgyu grimaces, watching the way his friend breaks down before his eyes; his hand is stiff and awkward as it pats Yeonjun’s back, trying his best to comfort him, wincing at the way Yeonjun only cries harder, “It’s… probably nothing, I’m sure she’ll talk to you again tomorrow, or once she’s calmed down.”
“You think?” Yeonjun asks, peeking through his hands and up at Beomgyu with sparkling eyes, full of hope as Beomgyu can only crack a nervous smile.
“Yeah,” he says, patting Yeonjun’s back again in reassurance, “Yeah— just, be patient, okay?”
Patient is the last word one would use to describe Yeonjun. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
MONDAY
This is it. 
Yeonjun has been waiting all weekend for this moment (Or just Sunday, to be more accurate), restless on his feet as he finds himself pacing back and forth— he’s nibbling at his lip nervously, arms sore and tired from the weight of the gift he holds in his hands; a bouquet of your favorite flowers, pristine and in full bloom— it’s large and quite heavy as it practically covers his face, but Yeonjun knew that a small bouquet would do nothing to show his love for you. 
He would try to talk to you as soon as your class ended. He needed to know what he did wrong, and he sure as hell would not do it again. You didn’t text him after the argument, and it only left him uneasy at the thought of you really wanting to end things.
He didn’t want to lose you. Not like this. 
Admittedly, he got a bit ahead of himself— he’s been waiting outside for the past half hour, arriving much too early as he stood out in the hall awkwardly— at some point, he tried peeking into the small, rectangular window next to the door, hunched over slightly and pouting as he scanned the room for you. 
When he spotted you, he was delighted to see you had already been looking at him. 
He couldn’t contain the wide smile that stretched across his face, waving at you excitedly in hopes you’d do the same— unable to realize that the whole class was now looking at him, he was confused to watch the way your face screwed up into an expression of sheer embarrassment, shielding your face with your hand and looking away as some students began following his line of sight. 
Why did you do that? You were ignoring him, and it hurt like a bitch as Yeonjun frowned. His mind was racing as he began wondering what he might’ve done wrong— he was so focused, in fact, that he failed to notice the professor blocking his view, his reaction time much too slow as his eyes flickered up to meet the man’s gaze. Flustered, he backed away quickly, his face heating up as he bowed in apology— he hugged the bouquet close to his chest as he did, mumbling out a soft sorry the man probably couldn’t even hear. 
You, on the other hand, could hear the way your professor laughed at Yeonjun’s actions, absolutely mortified by the way he turned around and began to joke to the class, saying that “It looks like someone here has an admirer,” whilst looking in your direction, your classmates laughing along before he went back to his lecture.
Shit, this was so embarrassing. 
Yeonjun is so fucking stupid, you cry to yourself, peeking over at the doorway in hopes that he took the hint and left— but no, he definitely didn’t, because you could still see his figure through the window, leaning against the wall and holding an item the size of his whole upper body close to his chest. 
The last thing you wanted to do was go outside and see him— but that’s exactly what happened anyway, even if you lingered behind once class ended in hopes that Yeonjun would get impatient and wait— patience was never his strongest virtue, after all. 
But for you, anything could change. 
This is exactly why you find him outside the door, face hidden with what is, to your surprise, a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. 
Fuck, you seriously don’t want to talk to him right now. Gritting your teeth, you use this moment to sneak past him, a slight guilt tugging at you as you look back, spotting the way he seems oblivious to the fact that you’ve left already. 
Looking back was your first mistake.
Because Yeonjun, in a truly creepy fashion, is almost able to sense it, whipping his head to you and perking up at the way you only walk faster— then begin sprinting, refusing to look back again once he starts chasing after you. 
“Baby,” you hear him call out to you, the ridiculous rustling of his bouquet slightly muffling his words as his footsteps thud against the tiles; for an athlete, you’d expect him to catch up to you already, but you quietly pat yourself on the back for the slight head start you gave yourself. 
“Baby, wait!” he continues to yell, ignoring the strange stares from those passing by, “Please, let me talk to you!” 
“I don’t wanna talk!” you growl out, your emotions taking over as you remember why you’re mad at him, “leave me alone!”
You’re outside now; you’re a huffing and sweaty mess, but you refuse to slow down for even a second, the threat of Yeonjun hot on your heels fueling your stamina. 
“Can you please tell me what I did wrong?” He yells, exasperated as he watches you run off the sidewalk— you’re attempting to lose him, but countless running drills and morning runs have prepared him for this moment— without a second thought, he’s following you, attempting to peek over his— inconveniently large, he must admit— bouquet, watching the way you simply continue to run, glancing back every once in a while to see if he’s still there. 
“Please, can we be civil and talk about this?!” his words have you turning around to send him a glare— instead, you stumble to a stop as you watch Yeonjun trip, eyes widening at the dramatic sight before you. 
He’s fallen flat on his face, a puff of petals blowing up around him as you wince— he’s face-first into whatever’s left of the flowers, the rest of the petals fluttering in the air around him and falling delicately on his figure as you stare, the place eerily silent save for the chirping birds and rustling leaves.
He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even attempt to get up, left splattered all over the grass as you stare at him in slight concern. 
“Yeonjun?” you call out uncertainly, shifting on your feet as you pause. He doesn’t respond— he’s left frozen on the ground, and you’re frowning at the sight as you slowly make your way to him; you approach him slowly, as though you were approaching a wild animal, tense in your movements as you lean in to observe him. 
“Did you die?” you ask quietly, taking in the way he still hasn’t moved. Not an inch. You feel more concerned than you want to admit, crouching down in front of him as you bite your lip in worry. 
“Do you hate me.” the sudden words have you flinching, staring down at Yeonjun, who’s still eating dirt and flowers. You frown, scoffing at the way he weakly reaches out for you— swiftly, you slap his hand, watching the way it flops back onto the ground. 
“No— yes— a little,” you stutter out, angry at the way you bounce between responses just from the mere pathetic sight of him. 
“Can you forgive me?” he asks, the words muffled as it takes you a minute to decipher what he may be saying— you can’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.  
“For what?” you ask, picking a petal off his back absentmindedly as you wait— if he could answer properly, you might consider giving in. 
“For existing.” 
God, Yeonjun was such a sap. It has you biting back a smile as you resist the urge to stroke his hair, mused and riddled with petals from his grand gesture— but his answer was not the one you were looking for, and you’re standing back up and readjusting your clothes without another word. 
“pleaaaaseee,” you hear him whine, watching the way he shrivels up into a ball— then, he’s sitting back on his legs, whipping his head up and looking at you with wide, teary eyes. 
“Please take the flowers with you at least,” he pouts, thrusting the bouquet— or, whatever was left of it— up at you with pleading eyes.
Pressing your lips together, you sigh; a moment passes before you’re taking the gift from him begrudgingly, ignoring the way he perks up happily at your action. 
“I’m still mad at you,” you hiss, and he immediately deflates at your words, “Don’t visit my class like that again. Please.” 
He says nothing, left to watch as you turn your back to him and walk away; he has yet to get up, his heart pounding against his chest as he watches the way you hug the flowers close to you, shaking your head at the state of them. 
This was… progress. 
But you’re still mad at him. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
TUESDAY
Visiting you in class was a big no. 
Visiting you in general, however, wasn’t off-limits.
You don’t want to talk to him? Fine, he can understand. In fact, he won’t talk to you at all— a feat much greater said than done— but hey, he always loved staring at you anyway. 
Well, it’s a little hard to stare by the way you’ve propped up textbooks around your face like a fort. 
He’s staring. He’s still staring. You can practically feel his puppy-eyed gaze burn into your brain telepathically; no matter how hard you try to focus on your work, it’s become damn near impossible with the way you can feel Yeonjun’s presence, your neck beginning to ache from the way you’ve remained ducked down this whole time. 
It was easy to deal with at first; you chose not to do anything the moment you saw Yeonjun emerge from the staircase and onto the top floor of the library— otherwise known as the quietest level. 
He wouldn’t be able to talk to you without disturbing the peace of others— and potentially being asked to leave— so you decided to not make a scene and go back to studying, even when you felt his eyes lock on your figure and beeline to you. 
He sat across from you first. Though, you were quick to move, pretending as though you were looking for a book as you quickly ran away to the other side of the library. You felt the way his eyes followed you the whole time— he looked like a kicked puppy, and damn did that stupid tactic of his always work, because you even felt yourself pausing for a second, wondering if you should give in and talk to him. 
But, you are a horrendously petty person.
You were holed up in some random corner. You didn’t even know there was a table there until today, the spot so secluded and quiet that you silently celebrated getting him off your trail.
It was peaceful— for like, a good ten minutes. 
You didn’t think much of it when you first heard it; footsteps, slow and calculated as they rounded about the bookshelves. You could hear the sound of books being pulled out clear as day, though you chose to ignore it all and keep focus on your assignments instead. 
After a moment, the footsteps disappeared. 
It was back to being completely silent. And, in your bored state, you began to look around the area you were huddled up in; curiously, you allowed yourself to walk around, reading the spines and pulling out books that seemed to pique your interest even slightly. 
There seemed to be another person here as well— maybe it was the same person as before, or maybe it was someone new— you didn’t pay mind to it nonetheless, continuing your journey as your eyes locked in on a particularly colorful book.
Slowly, you pulled it out— on the other side, you watched the book adjacent to yours slowly get pulled out as well, and a smile tugged at your lips at the odd coincidence. 
Then, your eyes met with Yeonjun’s. 
His gaze filled with admiration was only returned with a mean scowl from you. You were quick to shove the book back into its place, storming off to your table without a moment’s hesitation. 
Yeonjun was quickly able to find your hiding spot— one might think you could cry from the way you buried your face into your hands defeatedly, refusing to look up from your dark refuge as the sounds of a chair scraping against the carpeted floors met your ears. 
That’s how you found yourself here, ignoring what people might think as you hide behind your fortress of textbooks. You didn’t feel good staying in a secluded area with Yeonjun— not because you thought he might try to do anything— but because you were afraid of your own resolve crumbling, especially after you’d spent so much time trying to ignore him. 
You wonder if he’s still here. Who are you kidding, of course he’s still here, though you can’t really bring yourself to check and see for yourself. 
After a while, you hear scribbling sounds. 
You can’t hide the way you jump as a piece of paper hits your head, folded into a perfect heart and landing in front of you with a dull thud. 
Open me :( it says, and though you wish you could say you were strong enough to ignore it, you definitely aren’t.
Can you pls let me look at u at least?
You don’t get much of a moment to process the message. Another paper lands directly in front of you, shaped into a heart and scrawled with the same words as the last— slowly, you open it, dreading what might be written inside this time. 
I miss you so so so so so much. 
You shake your head at his words. Sliding the paper to the side, you ignore his request, choosing to focus on your work instead of giving in to his silly tactics. After a moment, you wonder if you’ll be getting another paper— instead, nothing happens; the sigh of relief you let out is almost comical, your body relaxing a bit as you allow yourself to wonder if he’s finally left. 
That was your second mistake. 
Because after a few minutes, another paper hits you. It’s another heart, and you find that you don’t need to open it this time, the message scrawled on top for easier access. 
I’m sorry. 
Another paper flies over your fortress.
I’m sorry.
Then, another. 
Pls forgive me.
Then another. And another, and another, and another. 
Pls, I hate making you mad. I feel so gross and sad rn. I seriously can’t go a day without you. I miss you sm, pls :(((
You feel like you’re under attack— the way he continues to throw paper after paper is rhythmic and almost impressive, the endless stream of hearts covering your keyboard and forcing you to sweep them to the side after seconds. 
It’s useless to study. How can you, when Yeonjun keeps throwing his apologies at you? It’s stupid and childish and is enough for you to take your textbooks down, your jaw clenched and your eyes pointed in a sharp glare that has Yeonjun pausing in his actions. 
There’s a small pile of hearts next to him. 
Neither of you move— he’s frozen mid-throw, his eyes widening as though he can’t grasp the fact that you’re actually looking at him— even if it’s filled with rage and annoyance. 
Slowly, the corners of his lips curl up— you can’t find it in you to react as he throws the paper in his hands, feeling the way it smacks right onto your forehead before it falls to the table. 
Can I show u how sorry I am??
You don’t seem to think of the consequences as you reach for your bag in the seat next to you— devoid of anything except a few pencils and your hoodie— and throw it at him, watching the way he yelps in surprise, your bag spilling out it’s few contents all over the floor. The sound is enough to have the people around you glancing at your table, curious or angry at the sound of the ruckus. 
You’re worked up and huffing as you watch Yeonjun scramble to gather the spilled contents of your bag, watching as he stutters out whispered apologies between his actions. 
“Excuse me,” the hand on your shoulder is firm as you twist your head to look at the librarian, your expression falling at the realization of what you’ve just done. 
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 
Whipping your head around, you meet eyes with a sheepish and guilty Yeonjun, gritting your teeth as he holds out your bag for you to take. 
Wordlessly, you snatch it from him, shoving your computer and the rest of your items into it before you’re turning around to face the librarian; you whisper out a soft “I’m so sorry” as you bow in apology, waiting for her to leave before you’re facing Yeonjun again. 
I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, he mouths to you, though you ignore it all as you choose to whack his shoulder with your very-full bag instead; the pained whimper he lets out has you gritting your teeth in irritation, watching the way he pouts up at you as he rubs his arm pathetically. 
“Don’t pull this shit again,” you hiss out, storming off before he can get another word out. 
There goes all his progress. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
WEDNESDAY
Today has been an oddly nice day.
It’s nice— too nice, you wonder, pondering what may be different enough to have you walking with a smile on your face, appreciating the beautiful weather in a light mood. 
A guy your age is leaning against a tree up ahead. He holds a bouquet of roses, and you smile at the way he seems to be passing one out to every person that passes him. That’s so sweet, you think to yourself, and you can’t help the way your stomach twists in anticipation the moment his eyes meet yours. 
“Would you like a rose?” he asks you, his blond hair shining under the sunlight as he sends you a bright smile— you don’t hesitate to say yes, taking the flower from him with a cute thank you! 
The flower is in full bloom as you twirl it between your fingers absentmindedly. The smile on your face is seemingly permanent as you make your way to your favorite cafe, though as you think back to the interaction, you can’t help but wonder if you know that man from somewhere.
It isn’t until you stop at a crosswalk that you notice it— there’s a tag on the rose, and though you initially thought it was just a price tag, you realize that it’s something else; pausing before you cross the street, you take a moment to tilt your head and read it, feeling your jaw drop as your brain registers the words in disbelief. 
Yeonjun says he’s sorry.
“What the fuck,” you mutter to yourself, ripping it off without hesitation and shoving it into your pocket— you definietly recognize the man from earlier, you realize— that was Hueningkai!
You roll your eyes at Yeonjun’s weak ploy to talk to you— you can’t help the way it leaves you irritated as you stand in line to order, trying your best to recite your regular order to the barista with a smile on your face, the man before you giving you a dimpled smile before he’s off to make it.
By the time you get your order, you’ve calmed down— you’re quick to exit and make your way back towards campus, using this small break between classes to study again. (without Yeonjun around, hopefully.) 
Your fingers are absentminded as you trace over the printed sticker on the side of the cup that has your order printed on it, glancing down at the text before you take another sip. 
Yeonjun is really sorry.
…What? 
You were more unnerved than anything. The lengths Yeonjun had gone through to communicate almost concerned you, though all you could do at this point was rip the sticker off and shove it in your pocket, ignoring it like the other one. You wracked your mind for answers as you began to wonder if you had seen that barista anywhere else, and after a moment, you settled on the vague conclusion that you think you’ve seen him in Yeonjun’s frat house before. 
He’s so annoying, you sigh to yourself, rubbing at your temples as you fear an upcoming headache. 
You’re startled back to life at the sight of a puppy running up to you— you’re frowning at the sight, unsure of what to do as it stops right at your feet, jumping up on you and barking excitedly— almost like it recognized you— squinting, you observe the dog. 
Oh god, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you do recognize this damn dog.
“Matcha, who let you out,” you huff, leaning down to scoop the tiny dog into your arms— in the distance, you can see someone running in your direction, though you choose to ignore it as you notice Matcha’s brand new collar. 
Yeonjun misses you more than anything. 
The words are wrapped around his collar, leaving you to throw your head back and groan at the sight; the footsteps are much louder than before, and you’re looking forward again as you spot yet another familiar face. 
“Beomgyu,” you sneer, shoving Matcha into his awaiting hands. All he can do is laugh sheepishly, muttering out what a coincidence! Petting Matcha, he pauses, giving you an expectant look that only leaves you confused.
“Could you forgive him?”
“Go away!” you say in return, weaving out of his way and practically running off to the library; you can hear Matcha barking at you, though you choose to ignore it as Beomgyu’s calls of your name fuel you further. 
You feel out of breath by the time you finally enter the library, finding the nearest help desk and beginning to rummage through your bag for any books you need renewed— the librarian simply smiles at you patiently as he waits, adjusting his glasses before he quickly turns around to get something— by the time he’s back, you’ve laid out your books for him, thanking him quietly as you watch him renew them quickly.
When he slides them back towards you, you frown— there’s a bookmark on top of your small stack of books, laminated and shiny under the lights as you pick it up to get rid of the glare— reading it, you can already feel the need to tear it, though it seems as this cheeky worker is already one step ahead of you. 
Yeonjun just wants to talk to you again.
Three ways to better communication in a relationship:
The glare you send the worker— Taehyun, his name tag reads— is lethal, though he doesn’t seem to be affected by it as he simply sends you an innocent smile. Without another word, you gather your books, shoving them into your bag as you turn to leave.
“Ignoring him won’t solve anything,” he calls out quietly, though you don’t seem to appreciate the advice by the way you don’t even bother to turn back and react. Instead, you walk right back out, storming home as you type on your phone furiously. 
my baby :((
stop using others to relay messages damn it!!!
my baby :((
and don’t use matcha against me you loser!!!!!!
Through his end, Yeonjun is just happy that you’re texting him— though, the mean name is not much appreciated. 
Choi Yeonjun. 
can you pls let me talk to you instead?
You don’t bother opening the notification. 
That was your third mistake.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
THURSDAY
Today has been relatively peaceful. You have yet to be bothered today— no Yeonjun, no Matcha, and certainly none of his friends. 
Maybe because he was aware of your plans today; you did tell him a while ago about your reunion with one of your friends, always chatting his ear off about how excited you were to finally see her again—it slightly warms your heart to know that he actually listens to you.
Well. Most of the time. 
“You’re fighting right now?” Tzuyu asks, leaning forward in her seat with wide eyes. You didn’t expect this sudden change of topic, but you can only nod grimly in response, watching as she sighs in dismay at your situation. 
“Wow, you guys never fight— at least, not to this level,” she’s deep in thought over your relationship as she frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares down at her empty plate— you both chose to forgo dessert, and now you wait patiently for your check.
“Well, what are you guys even fighting about?” 
“It’s just—“ you’re cut off by your server placing the check in between the two of you, thanking him with a smile on your face before you’re freezing; you’re unsure of what to make of the plate that he places before you, stuttering out unintelligible sentences that you didn’t order… whatever this was. 
“Free of charge,” the man says, before bowing politely and scurrying away; you’re barely able to get a word out before you huff in defeat, looking back at the treat in front of you as you take in Tzuyu’s amused laughter.
“What?” you ask, frowning as you watch her turn the plate towards you— you’re left a bit speechless by what you see, mouth falling open as your brain attempts to comprehend how you should react to this. 
It’s dessert— well, more specifically, three full scoops of ice cream, the caramel drizzle and other toppings decorating it to make it look like a cat; more specifically, a sad cat. All along the plate, more caramel drizzle decorates it to form a sentence. 
I miss you. Please, talk to me. YJ. 
Your head snaps up in the direction the waiter went in; looking out the small window of the kitchen door, you spot none other than Yeonjun, his eyes widening before he’s ducking out of the way like a deer in headlights. 
“How the fuck did he get back there?!” you cry out, running a hand down your face in disbelief— but no, one more glance back in his direction is enough to catch him peeking at you again, flinching in surprise before he’s ducking out of your sight once more. 
“Who let him in there?” you hiss, placing your head in your hands as Tzuyu merely laughs; you ignore the way she begins to dig into the dessert after you express that you won’t touch it, humming happily that it was a sweet gesture. 
A moment’s thought is able to remind you where you are— in Beomgyu’s older brother’s restaurant, of course. 
Defeatedly, you open the checkbook to offer to pay— though the price has your eyes practically bulging out, reading and re-reading the strange excuse of a check this waiter has brought to you. 
Your meal was free. 
The only thing you read on the paper was a poor excuse of Yeonjun replacing the food items with “i miss you”s and “i’m sorry”s, the sight baffling you as Tzuyu turns the check towards her in curiosity. 
“Interesting,” she hums, closing the checkbook before she’s fishing for tip money, “Are you sure you wanna lose a guy like him?”
You take a second to think her question through. 
Yet another mistake on your part. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
FRIDAY
Remembering what happened today is enough to have your head hurting— so, you’ll keep it short.
You were working— working, minding your own business, prey to unsuspecting events— when it happened. 
Fridays were always rush days. Maybe that’s why you didn’t think to pay attention to your surroundings, to the blasting music, the yell of your coworkers calling out drinks and names, or to the endless chatter of the customers around you. 
You should have paid attention�� maybe, if you did, you would’ve been able to spare yourself the embarrassment— another mistake of yours, if you will. 
The break of music from the radio was not what caught your attention— radio hosts do it all the time, speaking in between songs with useless chatter as they find a song to play next— no, what did catch your attention, however, was the eerily familiar voice, and worse, the eerily familiar message he broadcasted all over your local station. 
“This next song is called Seven,” he spoke, smooth, suave, and relaxing as the track rolled in quietly in the background, “a song about a man more than willing to show how devoted he is to his to his partner— ___, come home, the kids miss you— well, more like Matcha, but still.”
You could feel your coworkers freeze around you. You could feel their gazes slowly drift to you, could feel the way customers got a good look at the decorated name tag you once showed off proudly. 
“Is— is he…?” your coworker whispered beside you, watching the way you caved into yourself in attempts to hide your nametag, “is he that frat boy you were talking about?”
“No.” you say, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you focus on making your drink instead, “No. That’s not him. This isn’t about me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“___, I’ll keep waiting for you patiently. Have a good shift today.” 
Christ!
Your coworkers could only laugh lightheartedly at his words— they found it cute, which was even worse for you, because all you could wonder was how the fuck he was able to get into the broadcast station— this time, you seriously couldn’t figure out any ties between him and the place. 
“Looks like he won’t give up,” to say you were horrified at the way a customer told you this was an understatement, her eyes alight with amusement as she spoke to you with a tone so genuine you almost thought she was in on it— fuck, maybe she was— “if anything, you should turn him down soon before he goes too far.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out, tired of these constant antics as you thought over her words, forced to go through the rest of your shift pretending as though Yeonjun hadn’t broadcasted his pleading message to the whole city— well, more like anyone who was listening to the local radio station willingly.
You feel like you’re on The Truman Show, or something.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
SATURDAY
You were scared to talk to Yeonjun. 
Scared— why were you scared? You don’t know why, but you couldn’t bring yourself to send him a text message, pacing around your room like an idiot instead as you wondered what you would tell him. 
Would you talk? Would you finally break up with him?
The way your stomach sank with dread at the mere thought of the second option was enough of an answer for you— no, you shouldn’t break up with him.
However, it was storming today— there was no way in hell you would be going outside to meet him in such weather, so you opted to psych yourself up to send him a text message asking to meet up instead.
You were pacing around your room again when you noticed it. 
There’s a bright umbrella outside— shit, you recognize that umbrella, you realize with a heavy dread, walking up to your window and pulling your curtains open as you stare out in dismay.
Why the fuck is Yeonjun outside right now?
It’s perfect timing, the way his umbrella raises to show his figure; oh my god, you think to yourself, biting your lip as you take his expression in, he’s crying!
This was not your intention. You never meant to hurt Yeonjun like this, but you also were not ready to see him yet— so, with a slight pang in your heart, you shut the curtains again, leaving just enough of a crack to make sure that he’ll leave.
Instead, he stayed there. In true Yeonjun fashion, squinting up at your window in hopes that you’d at least tell him to go away. Instead, he watched as you peeked through the crack of the curtains, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you thought you were being discreet with your actions. 
Slowly, Yeonjun turns his phone to you; there’s writing flashing by in his phone, though you have to squint your eyes and wait for the whole sentence to roll by to see what he’s trying to tell you now. 
I know you don’t… want to see me… right now but I … seriously just need… to know what I … did wrong. 
God. Fuck. This whole “ghosting” ordeal was harder than it should be when someone like Yeonjun was involved. 
 It’s been like… a week and you… still haven’t talked… to me.
Oh, the guilt is seriously eating you up right now. You weren’t supposed to ignore him for days on end, but each time Yeonjun reached out for you, you couldn’t control the way you ran away in return, still hurt by the things he didn’t even realize he did.
You’ve finally gotten a good grasp of his obliviousness.
I’m sorry… I love you… I love you… I love you…
Only three words are rolling by on his phone now. You think you’ve gotten the gist of what he’s trying to tell you as you sink to the floor, out of sight and exasperated as you reach for your phone to make a call. 
“Hello?”
“Please come get Yeonjun. He’s outside my apartment in the freezing rain.”
“Uhm, let him in then?”
“I— I can’t,” you mutter sheepishly as you feel your face heating up, your stomach sinking as you hear Beomgyu scoffing on the other side of the line, “I don’t want to talk to him right now. Not like this.”
“Then I guess he’ll stay out in the freezing rain.” 
“He’ll get sick!” you say, and it’s only now that you feel stupid for this push and pull you’ve created, “please. I’m begging you.” 
“You need to talk to him.”
“I want to. I will.” you say, placing a hand on your forehead as you sigh, “Tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” 
A pause. Then, you hear rustling, and the sounds of Beomgyu grumbling quietly to himself.
“I’ll go get him,” he says, and you can feel yourself sink further against the wall in relief, “you better not back out on your word, okay?”
“Okay.” 
You hope you’re not making a mistake. 
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
SUNDAY
This is awkward. You feel awkward. You probably look awkward, too. 
Yeonjun, for once, looks just as awkward and tense before you. His whole body is rigid as he sits on your couch, feeling more like a stranger in your home than the man you’ve spent the past few months with, the way his eyes wander around making you feel like it’s his first time here. 
“Yeonjun,” you sigh out, catching his attention as his eyes zero in on you immediately; you feel nervous under his gaze, unsure of what to say as your brain begins to stutter, your mouth opening and closing in hopes that a proper sentence will come out.
“What did I do wrong?” he cries out, snapping you out of your troubled reverie as your eyes meet his— they’re glossy, and you’re afraid he might just start crying again if you look away, “can we start there?”
“You— you seriously don’t know?” you ask, bewildered by his question as you sit back on your couch— Yeonjun simply shakes his head reverently in response, and you’re blinking owlishly at him as you stare at him in disbelief. 
“We didn’t have any arguments before this,” he says, nibbling on his lip as he thinks back to the moment you yelled at him, tearing his arm off you as he attempted to keep you from running away, “You just snapped at me then disappeared— I, I want to know what I did wrong, at least.”
“Yeonjun you—“ you’re dragging a hand down your cheek as you clench your jaw, taking a second to breathe to not snap at him again, “that’s the problem, you’re just so— so oblivious, I seriously thought you’d be able to put two and two together by now!” 
Oh, oh this is embarrassing; you should not be getting worked up right now, your hands immediately coming up to hide your face as you hear Yeonjun cooing out your name softly— he’s next to you at the speed of light, attempting to take your hands away as he quietly tells you to breathe in his stupid, calming voice. 
“You’re always at those stupid parties, you stupid frat boy—“ you’re stuttering through your sentences, the heat in your face humiliating as you feel your emotions finally tumbling down, “and I know I told you I’m okay with it— I am, I really am— but what I’m not okay with is how fucking flirty you are!”
You can feel Yeonjun’s hands stiffen; slowly, his mouth drops in shock, his face beginning to pale as he realizes just why you’re mad at him. 
“I’ve told you— time, and time again— that, that I don’t like when you feed into people like that, that you never reject advances and tell them that you have a fucking girlfriend,” you know he never means it in a harmful way. You know that, nine times out of ten, Yeonjun doesn’t even realize those advances are happening, but it’s always just as painful to watch, knowing that charming attitude and cheeky voice is exactly how he got you, “and it just makes me feel so… so stupid and jealous and unwanted!” 
You feel out of breath by the time you finish. Though you remain silent and try to calm yourself, you instead begin to feel more anger festering inside you as you take in Yeonjun’s face, full of dread and realization as he begins to think back to how he was acting back at the frat party that caused this mess. 
Yeonjun was used to people acting the way they did around him. It never fazed him, and most of the time he simply followed along because he found it fun. No, he never thought of having anyone else but you, you’re his everything— though, he does realize how inconsiderate he’s been of your feelings now. 
“Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his words genuine and filled with guilt as he cups your face gently, “I didn’t know.”
“Fuck!” Your response is unprecedented as you shake his hands off you, pushing him back and forcing him to lay across the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. He’s unable to do anything as he watches the way you throw your legs on each side of his waist, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him up as you sneer at him.
“That’s your problem, you just don’t know—!” pushing him back on the couch, he lets out a soft oof! unable to help the way his stomach swirls in anticipation of your next move, “You’re just too stupid, you don’t know anything unless someone spells it out for you!”
Shit. Yeonjun has never seen you like this, frustrated and restless as you shift above him, your eyes alight with rage as you begin tugging your hoodie over your head; his eyes widen comically at the action, shifting nervously under you as he realizes that oh, you’re not wearing a bra. 
“You’ve seriously left me wondering if you’re even taking this relationship seriously, it’s ridiculous!” Yeonjun feels like he’s been left on autopilot as he lets you tug him up again; he’s sitting up, hands hovering precariously as you glare at him, the sight enough to have him gulping nervously.
“I— I do,” he stutters out, watching as you send him an accusing look, “I do, I do I do, I take you so seriously, and fuck, I haven’t been thinking of anyone but you all week.” 
“Yeah?” you ask him, patronizing and unexpectedly mean as you look down at him, “You never fucking act like it.”
“Yes I do—!” he yells out, though it’s cut off by the way you sit down firmly in his lap, a hand threading into his hair and yanking at the roots as you tug his head back cruelly, “I’ve shown you this whole week just how much I think about you…” 
Yeonjun is hard. Painfully so, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get turned on so quickly— it’s enough to have you laughing breathily, tugging on his hair again and listening to the way he only lets out a high whine in response.
“What you’ve shown me this week,” you hiss, bringing him close to you, your lips grazing against his as you speak, “is that you’re a desperate bitch that doesn’t know how to be patient.”
“You were ignoring me,” he fights back, letting out a breathy wince at the way your grip tightens on his hair, “you’ve been so mean to me—!”
Yeonjun doesn’t get another word in on the matter. The way you bite his lip ruthlessly and sneak your tongue into his mouth has you feeling the way he practically turns to putty under you, his cheeks just as red as his lips as he gasps against your own, feeling the way you begin to grind against his cock without remorse. 
“Me? I’ve been mean to you?” you wonder out loud, hands running down his chest before you’re tugging his shirt up; you don’t bother taking it off as it rests against his chest, leaning him back and running your hands over his skin as you take in the way his stomach twitches in response. “do you know how many people think they’ve actually got a chance with you, all because you refuse to use common sense and say, oh, I’ve got a girlfriend!” 
Yeonjun shakes his head; there’s no way your words are true, especially when he’s literally obsessed with you. But of course, you’re always right— which is exactly why you’re fueled to rake your nails down his skin, leaving him to hiss and twitch at the feeling of your acrylics digging into his stomach and leaving bright, red scratch marks— acrylics he paid for because he thought they were pretty, the reminder only making his cock twitch pathetically. 
“There’s no one in this world that has a chance with me but you,” Yeonjun insists, pouting at the way you only scoff at his words, “I’ve never done anything to fuel other people’s strange fantasies.”
“God, you’re stupid,” you say, and Yeonjun thinks he must’ve lost his mind from the way he can feel a whine building up in his throat, “and to think I found that endearing.”
“You’re so mean,” he pouts— though he’s quick to regret it, letting out a loud cry as you begin grinding against him, able to feel the warmth of your pussy through the thin shorts you wear, your breast bouncing from the way your body begins to move. 
“You don’t like it?” You ask, tilting your head to watch as he merely shakes his head in response— all you can do is plant yourself to where you can feel his length pressed up against your slit, throbbing against you as you pout at him in false pity, “no you don’t like it, or no you do?”
“I— I…” he doesn’t know how to respond; it seems as though Yeonjun hasn’t figured out the response for himself, but you can feel it from the way his hips buck up into yours, stuttering and without rhythm as he remains defenseless under you. 
“You do like it,” you say, mocking at the way he only whimpers from the feeling of your nails digging into his hips, “Feels nice to be on the receiving end, baby?”
Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, this was strange and new and Yeonjun was definitely enjoying himself more than he thought he should, a melted pile of remorse and love as he pathetically waited for your next move, doe eyes staring up at you as he felt his mouth part, unable to say anything as he gave in to the mean look you sent him. 
“Been waiting patiently for me, hmm?” you ask him, thinking back to his earlier words as you watch him nod eagerly in confirmation, “So you bothering me every day of the week was you being patient?”
“I just wanted to talk,” Yeonjun whines out, chest heaving at the way you begin rolling your hips against his, your rhythm firm and dangerous as he feels weak moans leaving him like a stream, “but you— you kept avoiding me, I wanted to get some confirmation that you didn’t break up with me that day…!”
“Yeah?” you mock him, your voice just as whiny and breathy as his as you lean down to him; placing your hands on his chest, you tilt your head, grinding your cunt against him in a way that has him panting and looking for someplace to grab onto, “and did you get your answer?”
Yeonjun doesn’t even think he registered what you said. All he knows is that the way you’re sitting on him is genuinely cruel, especially with the way he hasn’t felt your body against his in so long. His mind is muddled and he can feel himself losing control from the way his hips begin to buck up, his brain going blank except for the thought that he hasn’t felt you against him in what seems like ages, his body so pent up with frustration that he can’t help but chase after the slight pleasure you offer him. 
Yeonjun’s mind has blanked out. You can see it in his face, the way it’s twisted with pleasure as he fails to respond to you, body bucking up into you so wildly that you have to steady yourself with two hands pressed firmly against his chest, your balance getting screwed over at his attempts to fuck up into you. 
The feeling of your warm hands is enough to bring Yeonjun back, eyes widening in realization as his eyes meet yours, clouded with so much need that it has Yeonjun slowing his pace immediately.
“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he stutters out, eyes widening at the way your cunt is practically leaking onto him— he can feel it through the layers of clothes, “wait wait wait, I’m so— ah, please— so… sososo close, baby, please…!”
“Wait?” you echo, brows furrowing as he nods frantically in response, “thought you didn’t like waiting?”
“No, please, please,” he whimpers, though his hips don’t stop their mindless rutting into your warm cunt, “please, don’t wanna come like this, wanna be inside you.”
“No?” you repeat, the mocking tone of your voice making his eyes screw shut, “why don’t you stop then? It’s all up to you.”
Oh, of course he can stop— though, that doesn’t mean he will, your hips slowly grinding against his as you watch the way his mouth falls open, not a sound falling past it before his hips buck up into you wildly— slowly, you feel a warmth spread beneath you, Yeonjun’s eyes screwed tightly as tears begin to peek from the corners. 
“Nooooo nonono, no, not like this,” he cried quietly to himself, ever the hypocrite as his hands fly to your waist, riding out his orgasm with loud, shameless moans. 
“Oh, my baby,” you say, pouting at the way he apologizes to you under his breath, “Is that it? Are you done now?”
“No, not done,” he’s quick to respond despite his rattled state of mind, looking up at you through bleary eyes. 
“No?” you hum, taking a moment to watch him carefully. 
“No,” he repeats, breathless as his grip tightens on your hips— even through the sensitivity, you can still feel his hips roll up into yours, quiet whimpers and whines leaving him as he does so— though, he can’t find it in himself to stop, at least not with the way he has yet to feel you around him. 
“God, this is so pitiful,” you say, frowning at the way Yeonjun struggles to sit up underneath you; you’re cupping his face as he looks up at you, teary eyes and flushed face unable to say anything as he simply leans into your touch— the way you coo softly has him pouting, and you can’t resist the urge to hover over his lips, teasing him with a smile as you brush over them, placing chaste kisses that only have him chasing you for more. 
“What a good bitch,” you hiss, feeling the way his hands have wandered up to play with your breasts, obsessed as always as his fingers tug and circle your nipples, eager to feel them harden under his touch, “doesn’t matter how many times you cum, hmm? Just need to make me feel good?”
“Yes, yes yes yes,” he babbles, wincing and moaning at the way your lips have begun to wander along his neck, nipping and sucking and leaving enough marks that a person could spot from far away with ease; the way your teeth sink into his skin practically has him crying, and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest the moment he feels you pause, your nose nuzzling into the spot behind his ear, your breath ticklish on his skin as you laugh. 
“Are you wearing my perfume, junie?” You mumble, hearing the way he can only whine in embarrassment; he doesn’t answer you, and you bite at his earlobe softly as you wait, silently demanding a response as his hands fall to your hips, gripping them pathetically as though his life depended on it. 
“I missed you,” he repeats, the words making you roll your eyes as your hand finds itself in his hair; you’re tugging at it, tilting his head and exposing his neck to you as you begin to nose along the column, closing your eyes to confirm if this is really your scent, “couldn’t smell you on my clothes anymore, love your scent s’much, ah…”
His neck has always been sensitive; that’s exactly why you choose to focus on it so much, not leaving until it’s covered with your marks and his tears have run down them, his soft sniffles making you glance up as you take him in, overstimulated and a mess as he bites his lip in an attempt to quiet himself.
“Too much, baby?” You coo, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back comfortingly, watching as he shakes his head adamantly, his wide eyes shiny and tear-filled as he looks up at you.
“No,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you towards him; his face is buried in your chest, and you can’t hold back the gasp you let out as his mouth immediately attaches itself to your breast, plump lips sucking at it as his tongue runs along it, messy and spit-filled as he looks back up at you, grinding you into him with weak whimpers, “want you to use me, you can do anything you want to me, just wanna please you.”
“Such a good boy for me, junie,” you say, his eyes fluttering close at your fond comment. “Are you gonna listen to me, for once?”
“I always listen to you,” he insists, and you feel irked by his words as you scoff.
“Like hell you do,” you sneer, easily angered as he shrinks down from your cold gaze, “Show me then— strip.”
Yeonjun is eager to listen, eager to please; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get undressed so quickly, kicking off his pants and throwing his shirt off in some random direction as he looks up at you expectantly, his cock a mess and already beginning to harden as your eyes fall to it.
“Hard already?” You muse, watching the way his cheeks blush red at your comment. Your hand is teasing as you wrap your fingers around his length, your perfect nails shining under the light as you slowly begin to move up and down, the cum from his previous orgasm guiding your movements as he begins to twitch under you, crying softly at the overstimulation. 
“Guess you weren’t lying,” you sigh out, finger swiping over his throbbing tip as you hear him yelp at the feeling, “just a cute body for me to use, hmm? You’re nothing but a dick for me to get myself off on?”
Yeonjun is mindlessly agreeing with you— your words are clearly affecting him, his cock leaking and throbbing in your hand, making a mess of it as his head falls back, throat displaying all the marks you left on him earlier like a trophy.
His head is snapping back up the moment you sink onto him. You’re warm, tight, and so fucking wet, his body jolting at the feeling of you clenching around him, taking him inch by inch as he feels the way your walls stretch to adjust to him.
“Fuck…” you hiss, your arousal practically dripping on him from how good he feels— “Yeonjun, shit.”
“Waiiittt, wait, oh god, no— don’t say my name like that, fuck,” Yeonjun begins moaning, your lips quirking into a smile as you watch his eyes screw shut, already knowing what’s coming from the way he holds onto you tighter, head buried into your chest as he tries to still your hips.
“Hmm? What’s wrong?” You ask, feigning innocence as you roll your hips into him, moaning dramatically as you do, “Oh, Yeonjun, Yeonjun— fuck, junie, you feel so good, feel so full…”
He’s shaking his head hopelessly; you know what you’re doing to him, and he feels pathetic by the way he loses his senses the more you sink onto him, his cock twitching in you uncontrollably as he warns you to stop, stop, stop before I…!
“This is embarrassing, Yeonjunie,” you pout, feeling the way a warmth spreads inside you the moment you sit on his hips snugly, feeling him bottomed out inside you as he attempts to muffle his sounds. His ears are bright red and he refuses to show you his face as he keeps you close to him, his arms still hugging you flush against him as you feel the valley of your breasts become wet with his tears. 
“Why are you crying, hmm?” You ask him, looking down to see the way he still hides his face, “You’ve already come twice, shouldn’t you be happy? You’re so easy, Yeonjunie.”
Your words are degrading, your voice cold as continue to mock him— and though you pretend otherwise, you can feel the way he ruts his hips into you with every mean comment, clearly enjoying himself more than he lets on as he lets out a broken cry against your skin. 
“Fuck, are you seriously getting off to this?” You snap, bored with pretending as though you don’t feel your boyfriend clinging to you tighter as you degrade him, “You’re such a fucking slut— you get off to anything, don’t you?”
The way you pull him away from your skin is sudden and rough, a soft yelp leaving him as he’s finally forced to face you, eyes fluttering open and meeting your own, your face twisted in annoyance as you look down at him.
“Acting like a bitch in heat, already came twice from nothing,” you grit, rolling your hips against his as you watch the way his eyes roll back— your other hand comes up to grip his cheeks, digging into the flesh and squeezing them together as he pouts at you, eyes welling with tears as he feels your nails dig into him.
“Don’t you feel bad? How am I supposed to get myself off if you can barely keep your dick up for more than a minute?” Your eyes darken at the way he simply lets out a pathetic sorry, ‘m so sorry baby, “What? I don’t think I heard you right.”
Your pussy feels so good around him; Yeonjun is barely able to think straight from the way you’ve begun to bounce on his cock ruthlessly, the sight of your breasts bouncing before him hypnotizing as you jerk his head back up to look at you, towering over him and demanding as you slow your hips to a mean grind.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whines out, his words incoherent and mushed together as you keep a hold of his face, listening as you hiss out for what? “‘M sorry for being so impatient— ah, ah, please— ngh, sorry for coming too soon, sorry for…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. He can’t find the ability to, distracted by the way your sounds have picked up, your fingers rubbing circles on your clit as you continue to use his cock like a toy; his cheeks feel sore as he stares at you with wide eyes, watching your face contort with pleasure, your rhythm become sloppy as you feel your legs getting tired. 
You didn’t think Yeonjun would pick up on it; without any warning, you find your back colliding against the couch, your eyes widening as you feel Yeonjun still settled in between your legs, cock still nestled deeply inside you; he’s still a pouty mess above you, hands gripping onto your hips as he begins rutting into you, his thrusts rough and out of control as he takes in your figure hungrily. 
“Sorry for making you feel unwanted,” Yeonjun babbles, feeling you throw your arms around his neck from the sudden confession, bringing him in close as you feel his face hover above your own, “I only want you, want you to use me and mark me so others know who I belong to, I’m all yours baby— please, please please please tell me you’re close, wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna make you feel good, missed you, missed this pussy, fuck, mmh, ugh, feel so good, so good, soso good, please, baby—“
Yeonjun thinks you’re something of an aphrodisiac to him; at least, that must be the explanation if he’s able to cum the moment he feels you unravel around him, unrestrained and addicted to the feeling as he listens to your pretty sounds, practically melting as he hears your voice purring under him— so good, fuck, you’re all mine Yeonjunie, all mine…
You don’t think you’ve ever felt Yeonjun cum this much— his cock continues to twitch and release inside you even after you’ve come down from your high, the man above you burying his head into the crook of your neck as he cries softly at the feeling, unable to help the way his hips buck forward to ride out his orgasm.
This shift in dynamic is new— but it’s addicting, and you find yourself thoroughly enjoying the way Yeonjun clings to you, his head hazy and needy for your comfort as he lays on top of you, uncaring of how heavy he may be as he wraps his strong arms around you. 
Missed you s’much baby, missed you, please don’t do that again, you could hear him mutter into your skin, a bit out of it as he peppered kisses along your collarbones.
“Alright, alright, I won’t,” you breathe out, running your fingers through his hair soothingly as he leans into your touch like a cat, “I’m sorry I kept running away from you.”
“But then again,” you trail off, tightening your grip on his hair teasingly, feeling the way he immediately whines softly, “you should’ve given me space when I asked you to. It was kinda cute, but don’t do that again— okay?”
“Okay. Of course. Whatever you say,” his response is immediate, not an ounce of hesitation as he stares at you with eyes shining with devotion. After a second, his lips part, and he’s hovering over you again as he looks down at you in wonder. 
“Does that mean we’re boyfriend-girlfriend again?”
You laugh.
“You idiot,” you coo, placing a soft kiss on his lips, unable to control your laugh as you do, “We didn’t stop being boyfriend-girlfriend. I was just mad at you.”
“Hmm. Then, can I eat you out?” His words have you freezing, looking at him in bewilderment as he simply smiles at you sheepishly, “To like. Show you how sorry I am.”
A pause. 
“…And, because I really missed eating you out.”
You sigh— and try not to show how eager you are as you nod softly. Yeonjun however, is shameless as he immediately pulls out, hissing softly at the feeling before he’s sinking to his stomach— you’re gulping at the sight. 
“You’re insatiable.” Your comment doesn’t faze him— if anything, it makes him smile, his pretty eyes staring at you with enough adoration and love that you’re squirming slightly under him.
“For you, yeah.”
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
On Monday, the sight of Yeonjun on campus is enough to have you spinning on your heels and running in the opposite direction. He wears nothing but a thin tank top, wondering why you’re yelling at him to cover up the moment he answers your phone call. 
“Why? It’s hot outside— …and, like, I wanna show everyone who I belong to.”
(You refuse to stand by his side until he covers up—though, you can’t ignore the way his words send butterflies through your stomach.)
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jksprincess10 · 1 year
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The handyman part 1 || Joel Miller x reader
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Summary: You broke your bed and need Joel Miller, your handy neighbor in Jackson, to fix it. 
CW: FLUFF, sexual tension, talks about past losses, age gap, not smut but it’s coming.
Read part 2
A few weeks ago, a man and his daughter had moved in the vacant house next to yours in Jackson.  He mostly kept to himself, you knew only pieces of information; he was named Joel, he was Tommy’s brother and he worked in construction in another life. Lastly, he was very handsome for his age.
Having a handyman just next door was a good thing. Especially, when one night, during terrible nightmares, you broke your bed. You fought so hard, because you thought that the dream was real, that the bottom of the frame was split, and you were now sleeping on the floor.
It took you a few days of sleeping badly to build up the courage to knock on your door. When you did, his daughter opened the door. She was well in her teens and had the reputation of being too… honest.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for… Mr Miller.”
She laughed so hard at how you called him that she had to support herself with her hands on her knees, and you felt your cheeks burning.
“Don’t call him like that, please, he’ll beat your ass.”
“What’s that about, Ellie?”
You heard Joel’s voice and the loud thumping of his work boots, before he appeared behind Ellie. Your eyes traveled to him instantly. He had broad shoulders, curly greying hair, and a trimmed beard.
“Your date’s here I guess.” Ellie shrugged and left you between adults.
“Sorry ‘bout her. What can I do for ya?”
Joel looked down at you. You were a sweet thing, probably just old enough to be born before the outbreak.
“I… uh… sorry to bother you. You told me you worked in construction. right?” He nodded, waiting for you to get to the point. “Guessed you were probably… good with your hands.” You just realized how it sounded and slapped your palm against your forehead. “What I mean is. I need you to fix something for me. Please.  In exchange… I’ll… I’ll cook for you two. Or… anything else you need, really.”
“Just let me get my tools, I’ll be right over.” He tried to ignore his racing dirty thoughts as he went to the garage to bring his trusty toolbox. There’s a lot you could do for him, actually.
He followed you to your home and you opened your unlocked door. “What d’ya need fixed?” He asked.
“My bed.”
“Oh.” Joel responded, fingers playing with the back of his hair in an awkward gesture.
The simple syllable made you realise how bad this all sounded. Joel instantly imagined you getting pounded in your bed by some other young guy in the town that had eyes only for you, until your bed broke.
“I-It’s not what you think, I assure you. Please, follow me.”
Joel followed you up your creaking stairs to your only bedroom. It was a small house, he thought. He kneeled beside the broken frame while you sat on your mattress that was laying on the floor.
You felt out of your place, with Joel in your bedroom.
You felt out of place when you imagined how he would look kneeled in front of you.
“God, what did you do. I can fix the bed legs for now, but we’ll need new planks of wood for the bottom.”
“W-Wouldn’t you like to know what I did.” You smiled, trying to build some sort of confidence. “I don’t. Rhetoric question.” He said while he fumbled through his toolbox to find what he needed. Truth is, he felt jealousy lighting a fire in his stomach. Who put their dirty hands on you?
His coldness kept you silent for a moment while he was putting your bed legs back on the bottom of the frame.
“I… had a bad nightmare. I get violent in my sleep. This is why I sleep alone, I guess.” You explained, even though he probably didn’t care.
He imagined how soft you’d be in his arms, on his own mattress. He would reassure you so you’d sleep well. He grunted in frustration, hoping you didn’t hear. But you did. And you laughed to hide the fact that you were trying to imagine if he would grunt the same way while you were sucking his dick.
He turned around to look at you, hammer in hand and a nail between his teeth.
“Don’t make me use this hammer for laughing at me.” He finally let go of some of his walls to show some humour. “I’m old, being on my knees is hard.” He said as an excuse.
“I’d never. So… wood? Do we have that?”
“Might have to look around a bit. It’s getting a bit late though, so I can do that for you tomorrow. Sorry.”
“Another night of sleeping on the floor isn’t too bad, I guess.”
You felt dumb when you had wished he would have offered to sleep with him. And he wanted to, so bad. Last time he was this close to a woman was… well, we don’t talk about it.
Your silence filled your bedroom, your eyes lost in his stature. The way his flannel stretched against his back, the way his jeans looked tight on his muscular thighs.
“Ellie’s going out tonight. You can probably use her room.”
“N-No, it’s fine, really.”
It was a bad idea, even though you wanted to.
Maybe he had overstepped.
When he was done fixing your bed legs, he got up with a grunt of pain, and walked to you, sitting beside you on your old mattress. He felt awkward, like he didn’t know how to talk to a woman anymore.
“Thank you.” You finally said as you looked up to him. His chocolate eyes were beautiful, even if the wrinkles around them made him looked tired. Maybe he smiled a lot in another life.
He was so close, you could feel the faint odour of soap, buried in his woodsy smell. You could just lean in and kiss him, just to see what he would feel like.
“So… diner, huh? What about now? And just me? Since Ellie’s going out. ”
“S-Sure!”
You got up first to climb down the stairs to your kitchen. He followed you closely, eyes momentarily looking at the sweet curve of your ass filling your jeans.
“I have some chicken and chicken bones to go through, is a soup okay for you?”
“Sounds good.”
He sat at your wooden table so he could watch while you were starting to work on the broth. It would probably take a while.
“So, you live alone?” He observed.
“Yeah. Don’t have anyone to break my bed with.”
You turned around to look at him with a small smile.
How he wished he was pounding into you hard enough to break all your furniture. He would then fix everything for you just to stay longer.
You saw how he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Don’t get hard, asshole.” He thought.
“My… past partner died before I got here.” You finally said.
He thought of Tess. “Same.”
“M’sorry…” You sat on an empty counter while you were waiting for the broth to be ready. You didn’t dare approach him too much, you feared not being able to resist him. “Guess we’re both extremely lonely. At least, you have your daughter.”
“She’s… adopted. Not my real daughter.”
“I see… Want a taste? And see if it’s up to your standards.” You asked as you took the spoon in hand to fill it with the warm and comforting broth.
Joel got up from his chair and approached you, palms on each side of your thighs as he bent down to taste the soup. It felt intimate, feeding him like that. He could probably hear your heartbeat in your whole body.
“Hmhm. It’s good.” He approved.
The spoon fell from your hands, and he caught it just in time.
“I’m sorry. I just… fuck. You make me nervous.” You laughed.
“I didn’t mean to.” He backed away. “I can leave if you want.” You held on his soft shirt to keep him close.
“Don’t. I might have other things to fix, who knows?”
He laughed, and you swore you saw his cheeks getting redder. You let go of his shirt.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay.”
“Make yourself comfortable, Joel, there’s whiskey in the cupboards and beer in the fridge. I’ll watch over the broth while it boils.”
You got back on your feet, eyes staying on the yellowish liquid warming up on the stove, while your spoon was making small waves in the mixture. You didn’t dare to look at Joel for now. You heard him grab a bottle, 2 glasses and ice.
He put a glass beside you, and you smiled shyly. Joel looked at the bottle, that dated before the outbreak. “Good taste.”
“Thank you.”
**
You both finally sat at the wooden table; it was just big enough for 2 people, you didn’t have many visitors. Your legs were almost touching under the table.
“There’s gonna be a lot left. You can bring some at home. Maybe Ellie will appreciate.”
“Sure. It’s way better than my cooking. Can barely cook some chef Boyardee.”
“Damn. You need a woman in your life.” You laughed. The whiskey had loosened you up a little.
“Yes, I do.”
“So… what was life like before this for you? I was like… 6 when it started. So, I barely remember.”
So, Joel was 30 years older than you. He couldn’t keep flirting with you, he felt so bad about it. But you didn’t care.
He almost choked on his drink. “Fuck, you’re young.”
“Sorry.” You shrugged. “Not like I care.”
“To answer your question… there’s not much I wanna talk about it. Life was good with my sweet Sarah.”
“I’m… sorry.” You paused for a moment. “My parents did their best when it started. But they had to give me up to FEDRA at some point. When I was old enough to make my own decisions, I left with my partner. We were on the road for a while, and it lasted like that for years… Until he got infected, and I had to shoot him. After that, I found Tommy’s group and here I am.”
He admired how you could tell your story very calmly and coldly. To reassure you, he put his palm over your hand and softly pressed around your fingers. His warmth pulled you out of your thoughts.
“I’m sorry you lost people.”
“We all lost people, Joel.”
**
When you two finished eating together, you walked him to his door. Your body only wanted to follow him inside, to share more of his body’s warmth.
“You… sure you don’t want to come in?” He asked awkwardly.
“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Joel. Thank you.” You smiled softly. “After all, I’m too young to sleep at an old man’s house, right?” You added as you rolled your eyes.
You got up on your toes to press a kiss on his rough cheek, before going back to your house without looking back.
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abbyspubes · 3 months
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"Backup"
Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader
Premise: Maria pairs you with Joel for morning patrol because Tommy is out sick. Little do you know, Joel has been eyeing you for a while...
18+ Minors do not interact. CW: canon universe, some awkward!Joel fluff in the beginning, 19-year age gap, reader is late 30s, slight pervert!Joel, unprotected sex, creampie, praise and slight degradation, Joel calls you his fucktoy.
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“Are you sure? There isn’t anyone else?” You ask Maria, really hoping you can get out of this. She knocked on your door at 6AM, and you weren’t supposed to be up for another two hours.
“No, unfortunately. The flu is going around. Tommy’s not the only one laid up in bed, and everyone else has been assigned already.” Maria says candidly. “I can’t send Joel out alone, and we need someone to cover that route. There’ve been reports of infected out there, and we need to get a handle on it before it becomes a bigger problem.”
“Yeah, I know… I just don’t really know him. It might be weird. And I don’t have the same training as the others…” You couldn’t find a better excuse. The truth was he made you nervous...
For the past month, you and a few other new Jackson residents trained with Jesse because Maria wanted more backup for patrol shifts. You know, in case anything happened or anyone was sick. It was a good call, especially considering how many people got the flu this year. You normally work at the stables. You’ve only interacted with Joel a few times when you brought his horse out, and he seemed cold. Maybe he was just really tired… It was super early in the morning, and you heard he ran out of coffee recently… 
“You have enough, it’ll be fine. You know how to reload and shoot a gun. Joel will handle all the rest. Just follow his lead. Please?” Maria was pretty desperate. 
“Fine, I’ll make it work.” You concede. It was hard saying no to Maria.
“Great, thank you. I told Joel I would have someone meet him for his shift, so he’s already at the stables waiting. Meet him there as soon as possible.” Maria said before jogging off to her next task. Jackson may be a commune, but she really does keep the place running single-handedly. 
You huff a little before shutting the door. This is going to be interesting…
After quickly throwing on more appropriate clothing and stuffing a granola bar in your mouth, you meet Joel at the stables. 
You find Joel in front of the stables, leaning against the wall with his elbow up, staring out at the mountain. He notices you approaching and stands up straight to greet you.
“Hey, Joel… Maria sent me to patrol with you. There wasn’t really anyone else available.” You say a little sheepishly. It’s not that you didn’t like Joel. He actually intimidated you a little, but he was otherwise always cordial. Everyone in Jackson likes Joel. And if you were being completely honest with yourself, you thought he was pretty attractive… you couldn’t exactly use that as an excuse with Maria this morning, though.
“Yeah, I figured she’d send one of the new recruits. That’s fine though. You know your way around a gun?” Joel hands you a rifle.
“Sure. I trained with Jesse for a bit last month, but I don’t know much…”
“That’s alright. I’m used to taking point.” Joel says as he starts to walk toward the horses. 
You follow behind Joel. He grabs his horse and you borrow Tommy’s. After a briefing from Jesse, you head out with the other patrol teams. 
At first, you ride silently next to each other. Joel would occasionally give a few simple directions, “Turn left up ahead.” or “Only a few more miles now.” After an hour or so, you reach your destination - a neighborhood with maybe twelve or so houses spread out. The houses are somewhat secluded with a lot of landscaping, so it’s not easy to survey the area at a glance. You tie up the horses at the neighborhood gate and approach the first house.
“I don’t hear any infected, but that don’t mean much… Let’s start with this house here and then clear the rest one by one.” Joel says quietly.
“Following you.”
The first house doesn’t have any infected, nor any signs of infected. You try the second house, and again, no infected. After an hour, you’ve cleared the whole neighborhood. Still no infected.
“Huh, maybe they’ve moved on…” Joel says.
“Maybe the report was faulty.” You say, feeling a bit annoyed that you wasted your morning and there weren’t even any infected. You could still be in bed, for fuck’s sake. Maria is nothing if not overly cautious, though.
“Maybe. Well, we should hole up here for a few hours in case any show up. There was some blood smeared on the floor of that one house… they could still be nearby.” Apparently Joel is also a bit cautious.
“Sure. I have nothing else to do anyway.”
You head back into the blue house near the middle of the neighborhood. There was a decent couch in there that wasn’t completely covered in dust and moss just yet. You both agreed it was the best house to stake out. 
After entering the house, Joel goes to the edge of the couch, half sitting on the arm. You say closer to the door, unsure of where you should sit. You start to feel a little nervous. What were you going to do for two hours in this stupid house?
“So… you uh, you liking Jackson?” Joel asks. It almost seems like he’s nervous now.
“Yeah, it’s really great. I’m glad to be here. Way better than where I was before.”
“How long you been here now?” 
“About four months, I think. It feels like forever already.” Jackson is so much better than the unguarded neighborhood you used to live in a few hours up north. Granted, there weren’t many infected up there simply because there weren’t many people there either. No one to infect, really. Sure Jackson had more action, but the perks that accompany it are well worth it.
“And uh, you live alone at the Johnson place? On Cherry Street?”
Was Joel Miller trying to ask you if you were single…?? 
“Yep, just me. It’s small but it serves me well.”
“Good. That’s good.” Joel says, his voice trailing off a little. It seemed like he was concentrating on finding the next thing to say.
After an awkward pause in the conversation, Joel stops leaning on the arm and actually sits down on the couch. He pats one hand on the seat next to him without looking at you. “Well, we might as well get comfortable. We’ll be here a while. Have a seat, if you want…” 
“Oh, yeah...” You say as you walk towards the couch. It would be weird to just stand by the door awkwardly the whole time. Fuck. Now you’re really nervous. 
It was easy to acknowledge that Joel was attractive before. It was easy to brush off the thought. Your opinion of him didn’t matter, because Joel was never going to give you the time of day, so it all seemed pointless. You’d never be in any position to act on it… or so you thought. Now that you’ve actually spent some time together, it’s hard to ignore the fluttering between your legs. And now, you were alone together? 
You plop down next to Joel, careful to not brush your thigh against his. That would be too much. There’s no way Joel felt the same way about you anyway.
Joel puts his feet up on the coffee table and leans back into the couch. You both sit in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Joel can’t take it anymore.
“Hey, uh, look… I don’t know how else to say this… but I’m glad Maria sent you. You seem real nice, and I’ve wanted to get to know you a little anyway… just didn’t think you’d be interested. There’s really no women in Jackson my age that interest me… Anyway, just a thought. You can say no, and we can go back to pretendin’ we don’t know each other.” 
“O-Oh. Oh, uh, sure… I mean, yeah, you seem nice.” Sure, you were… nineteen years apart? That’s probably why Joel was a little abashed when he propositioned you, but the age difference didn’t bother you at all. 
“You don’t have to coddle me… I shouldn’t have said anything. It was too forward. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.” Joel says. His southern upbringing was showing.
“No, no… I mean… ugh, honestly, I have been eyeing you a little…” You can’t believe what’s happening. Is this a dream?
“Uh, oh, what? Uh… well that’s good…” Joel seems pleasantly surprised.
The sexual tension is thicker than a bloater’s armor. After a few seconds of silence, Joel fidgets in his seat a little, adjusting his weight from one side to another. You press your thighs together a little more tightly, seeking some pressure against the fly of your jeans… 
“Well, maybe we could grab a drink at The Ti-”
Before Joel could finish his sentence, in one smooth motion, you get on his lap to straddle him, giving him one solid, deliberate kiss on the mouth. You weren’t really the type to “do things correctly” when it came to sex and dating. Waiting until the third date to fuck? Why? Why wait for anything you want in an apocalyptic world where you could die a violent death from a Clicker at any moment?
Joel puts his arms up as you kiss him, almost afraid to lay a hand on you. As you pull away to look at him, one corner of his mouth tugs upward slightly. He had a bit of a poker face, but you’ve observed him at the stables every morning for long enough now to read his facial expressions. He seems… content. He relaxes a little and puts both of his hands on your hips. You hoped he would grab your ass, but you figure he’s too gentlemanly for that.
“Well… I wasn’t expectin’ that…” Joel says as he practically blushes.
“I didn’t think this is how my morning would go either, but here we are…” 
“And you want this?” Joel says, still in disbelief.
“Definitely.” You say before giving him another kiss, starting to feel Joel’s cock stir a little in his jeans…
Finally, Joel moves his hands from your hips to your ass, each hand gripping a cheek tightly, fingers sprawled out to cover as much real estate as possible. You even surprised yourself with how badly you wanted this, grinding on Joel’s lap aggressively, trying to feel more of him underneath you… 
“I had a vasectomy before the outbreak… so…” Joel mumbles between kisses.
“Oh, that’s good… we can enjoy this without worrying…” You’re delighted. The idea of Joel filling you up… feeling him drip out of you for the rest of the day… 
You can hardly wait. You stop grinding so you can reach between the two of you to undo Joel’s pants, eager to see what’s in store. 
It’s big. The biggest you’ve ever seen (in person, that is). You feel a tingle and another gush of arousal between your legs. If only you were wearing a skirt… 
“I want you inside me…” You whisper to Joel.
“Yes ma’am.” Joel whispers back before quickly standing up, picking you up with him, then laying you down on the floor beneath him. 
He rushes to undo your pants, struggling a little to pull them off. Impatiently, you help him kick off your pants and underwear before sprawling your legs open for him. Joel is on his knees before you, stroking his cock and staring at your glistening cunt. He only pauses for a second before he aligns his hips with your pelvis, pushing the tip of his cock against your pussy. He rubs the tip against your clit and opening a few times to slick his cock with your arousal before pushing in hard. He leans over you, propping himself up with one elbow while he grabs the side of your neck with his other hand. 
“Fuck you feel so good baby…” Joel whispers in your ear. 
You’re too blissed out to say anything back. It’s been a while, and this was good. 
Joel pins you down, pumping into you as you pant into his ear. He periodically slows his thrusts to edge himself and tease you. All you wanted was for him to pound into you mercilessly…
It’s almost as if he read your mind. As he slows his thrusts one more time, he sits upright, pulling out of you and instructing you to flip over. You couldn’t flip over fast enough. There you are, on your hands and knees, ready for Joel to use…
He wastes no time. As soon as your ass is up and ready for him, he pushes back into your pussy from behind and immediately starts pumping into you, hard and deep. This time, he maintains his pace as he grabs your ass cheeks again so he can steady himself behind you. 
“You could be my patrol fucktoy… you want that? So I can use you whenever I want? My little secret… Send you back dripping with my cum…” Joel grunts between thrusts.
Fuck yes. The idea turns you on so much that it sends you over the edge.
“Fuckk yes… Yes… Joel… I’m gonna…” Too late. You cum so hard that you can’t even finish your sentence. Joel pumps into you for one more hard thrust, then holds it there deep inside you, letting you cum all over his cock… Your legs spasm as you climax, causing your ass to jiggle beautifully for Joel. You feel yourself clench onto his cock as your clit throbs… 
“Fuck baby… already? You wanna be my cum dump that badly?” Joel says as he holds his position for you, giving your ass one good smack. 
“Yes… I need your load…” Creampies were your favorite.
“Of course you do. You’re a little slut.” Joel says as he starts thrusting into you again, causing you to moan, still sensitive from your climax…
Joel grabs your hips this time, hard enough to leave bruises. With each thrust, his pelvis smacks against your ass, creating a perfect slapping noise. Joel starts to quietly growl, pumping harder and faster each time. At this point, he only cares about his pleasure…
“You’re - such - a good - fucktoy, baby… are you - ready - for my load?” Joel grunts with each pump, his forehead glistening with sweat. He was stretching you out so good. 
“Yes… please… use me.” You beg as your clit throbs again, dangerously close to another orgasm… 
“Fuuuckkkkkk…” Joel growls one last time as he busts in you with a few more pumps, causing you to cum again. 
Joel reaches around you to grab your throat, holding you upright as he pumps his hot cum into you. You can feel Joel’s cock throb inside you as he cums, alternating intervals with the spasms of your pussy, both of you delighting in the sensation. You ride out your orgasm on Joel’s cock, fucking back up into him with each throb.  
After a minute or two, Joel slowly pulls out of you. Almost immediately, his cum starts pouring back out of your pussy. Joel is definitely one of those guys who cums pornstar loads… Feeling the cum drip out while Joel watches… you could almost think yourself to climax again knowing you were ass up with Joel Miller watching his cum leak out of you…
Joel pulls out of you slowly before lying down next to you. You roll over and lie down on the floor with him, eyes closed, full of cum, completely blissed out. You both take a few minutes to catch your breath in silence.
Finally, Joel speaks. “Tommy’s gonna need to find a new patrol partner. This is way more fun than patrolling with him.” He chuckles.
You laugh. “Oh, the first thing I’m doing when we get back is asking Maria to switch me from the stables to patrol.” You’re hooked now. You need this every day.
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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months
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you, her, me | joel & tommy miller
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Summary | It was never going to be as easy as getting pregnant on the first try. Tommy is away, working on some project out of town, when your next ovulation test tells you it's time to go. You resign yourself to another month without what you want the most, until Tommy suggests distance needn't change your plans.
Warnings | Y'all. You know what this is. Alcohol consumption, Girlfriend sharing, breeding kink, fingering (F), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, Tommy yet again getting cucked (but softly), phone sex, praise kink, Joel just being a fucking stud and a dirty talking menace once again. No use of Y/N, no outbreak AU.
Word Count | 3.8k
Authors Note | Well. Part one blew up, and it was never going to take first time around was it? Thank you for all the love on this first time around. Hope you enjoy this one just as much. If you like this, please consider reblogging, commenting or popping into my ask box with some love!
Part One | Main Masterlist
It’s not like you hadn’t expected it, but that single line on the pregnancy test still annoyed you. You’d done everything right, waited until the perfect possible time to let Joel fuck you and it still hadn’t taken. Tommy had been incredibly understanding, squeezing your arm and resigning both of you to the fact you’d just have to try again. Not that it would be a terrible thing to have to try again. Joel had been…. Well, Joel had been incredible, and if it were going to feel like that every time you had to try then you surely wouldn’t complain, especially if you could have Tommy’s eyes on you the whole time. 
That’s why, when you take the ovulation test the next month, and that smiling face is looking up at you, your stomach drops, because Tommy isn’t here. He’s gone for the whole week, working on some project out of town so Joel could stay with Sarah. You resign yourself to another month with an empty womb, throwing the test in the bin with fury. 
Tommy phones you that night, fills you in on his day on the jobsite, tells you exactly what he had for dinner, exactly what was on the TV, before he picks up something isn’t quite right on the other end of the phone. 
“What’s wrong, sugar?” His warm voice soothes down the phone pressed to your ear. 
“Nothing is wrong,” Your tone dismissive yet defensive, all at the same time, you sigh, this man knows you more intimately than anyone else, he knows something is wrong, “I took one of those stupid tests and it says it’s time to try again, guess I’m just frustrated that this is another month wasted.” 
He chuckles on the other end of the phone, “It doesn’t need to be wasted.” 
“But you aren’t here.” You point out. 
“Do I have to be?” You’re silent in response, “I don’t physically need to be there to keep an eye on things,” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice, “Or an ear.” 
The coffee you’re drinking splutters from your mouth as you cough, understanding exactly what Tommy is insinuating, “You want me to phone you?” You ask, making sure you’re understanding correctly, “Phone you whilst Joel fucks me?” 
“I sure do, sugar.” 
“And you’re cool with us being here alone?” 
“Shouldn’t I be?” He asks, “Like I said the first time, it doesn’t mean anything, I know he ain’t gonna try anythin’ stupid, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to take what you want from him.” 
“Okay,” You relent after a few moments, “I’ll call him tomorrow, it’s getting late.” 
“Alright sugar,” Tommy replies, “Sleep tight and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” 
You don’t know why, but it takes hours for you to build up enough courage to phone Joel. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to wait this month out, wait for Tommy so he could be here. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Joel, far from it, but there was something about knowing the love of your life was in the room whilst his brother tried to get you pregnant that put you as at ease with the situation as you could be. 
You’ve spoken to Joel countless times on the phone, but in order to even dial his number, it takes nearly 24 hours and a glass of wine. When you hold the phone to your ear, you almost hang up, but you leave it too long because Joel’s sweet Southern drawl is greeting you. 
“You alright, sweetheart?” 
“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” You reply, “How are you?” You curse yourself, inwardly cringing at how unsure you sound. 
“Yeah, m’all good over here,” He responds, “You need somethin’?” 
“Well, actually yeah, I do,” You rub at the back of your neck, “I um… I did one of those tests and it says I’m good to go, to like, try again, so yeah, this is me phoning to say that and make a really fucking terrible job of asking if you’d help again.” 
You hear him chuckle on the other end of the phone, “Sarah’s at a sleepover tonight, I can be with you in an hour?” 
“Okay, yeah, that sounds good, I’ll see you in a while.” 
“See you soon, pretty girl.” 
Pretty girl? Fucking hell. Joel had always been a flirt, smiles and smirks and little nicknames, but he’d never once crossed the line with you. Knew you had eyes for his little brother, would never get in the way of that. He’d never crossed that line until you’d invited him, point blank to do so. You had to remind yourself that he was only doing you a favour. A really massive, incredibly fucked up favour, but a favour none-the-less, and once that had been achieved that was it. He’d just go back to basically being your brother-in-law, wouldn’t he? 
An hour later, you’d swapped the wine for a glass of whiskey, just like the first time. There’s a tentative knock at the door, which has you downing the last of the liquid before you open the door for Joel. He’s similarly dressed as last time, dark jeans and a flannel shirt open over a dark t-shirt. He’d obviously showered before coming over, hair mostly dry apart from the very ends of his curls. These damn Miller brother’s won the gene jackpot because in the setting sun, Joel is fucking beautiful. 
He leans down, pulling you into a hug, “Evenin’, darlin’,” He whispers into your ear before letting you go, “You gonna invite me in?” He asks, when you don’t move to let him in. 
“Oh, yeah, sorry!” You exclaim, stepping back, “Come on in.” 
When you close the door behind him and turn around, you can feel the tension in the air. He’s wandering aimlessly through the open living space, standing with his hands in his pockets. It’s weird. You can feel the butterflies settling into your tummy already. 
“You know, you don’t need to make me feel good, right?” You muse, stepping from foot to foot by the door, “You can just fuck me and leave.” 
His head drops as he snorts through his nose, “Darlin’, I can’t in good conscience let you conceive a child if you don’t come at least twice.” 
“But….” 
Joel interrupts, “Answer me this, pretty girl,” He growls, “If I were Tommy right now, how many would he give you?” 
You think for a moment, “Probably three,” You shrug, “Once with his fingers, once with his mouth, then he’d make me come on his cock.” 
He smirks, knowing you’ve proven his point, “Well then, get that pretty ass over here and let me make you feel good.” 
He’s holding out a hand for you, coaxing you to come towards him, which you take gladly, suddenly feeling like you’re in some weird form of trance. He takes your hand in his, leads to you the couch and sits down. You’re standing in front of him, his face level with your tummy. He takes those wide palms and drags them up the backs of your legs, under the material of your dress to settle on the supple skin of your ass. 
“I gotta call Tommy,” You speak quietly, “Wanted to listen in.” 
“You can call him in a minute,” Joel’s voice is commanding as he kisses your tummy through the material of your dress, “Let me give you one first, get you nice and relaxed, yeah?” 
Joel puts his palms on your hips and turns you around, puts his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and drags them down your legs. When they pool at your feet, you step out of them, Joel’s hands keeping you balanced before he’s pulling you down onto his lap. He’s got his legs closed together, yours straddling either side of his. One of his hands is pressed on your tummy, pulling you flush back into him, the other is already snaking between your thighs, held open by his legs in the middle. 
You take a deep breath, and let yourself sink into his body, broad chest acting as a weighted comfort. His lips start to trail hot kisses down the side of your neck and onto your shoulder as he runs his fingers down the seam of your pussy. Joel’s fingers dip just below, and you hear him gasp and then chuckle when you’re already wet. 
“Pretty girl,” He coos into your ear, “You been thinkin’ about me? Thinkin’ about how good I made you feel last time?” 
You don’t reply, just tip your head back to rest on Joel’s shoulder, sighing in pleasure as he drags his fingers through the folds of your pussy, fingers brushing ever so gently across your clit, “So fuckin’ wet for me, darlin’,” He groans, letting his fingers dip back down, “So wet, so easy for me to do this.” 
He slips two fingers inside your pussy with ease, immediately hooking them in just the right way that has you keening, hips bucking in time with his slow thrusts. The hand he had on your tummy is moving downwards now too, dragging slowly across your mound until he’s got his middle finger touching your clit, two fingers still buried inside you. 
“Joel – fuck – Oh God.” You moan, his fingers applying more pressure to your clit now, setting your skin aflame. 
“You like that, huh?” His lips are still trailing hot kisses along the skin of your neck and shoulders, “Can feel that pretty pussy clenchin’ around my fingers already,” You can feel his smirk on your skin, “Gonna be so easy to finish you off, pretty girl.” 
He proves his point in minutes. His fingers begin speeding up, thrusting into your aching heat, curling just right to his that spot inside you, whilst his finger doesn’t let up with its tight circles across your clit. 
“I’m gonna – fuck Joel, I’m gonna come.” 
“That’s it baby girl,” His voice is low and you can feel his solid cock under your ass already, “Let go for me.” 
You do just that. Thighs shaking, Joel’s name falling from your mouth as your first orgasm slams right into you. He’s pulled his fingers from your pussy, walls clenching around nothing, but his fingers are still tracing those gentle movements along your clit, working you through the aftershocks. Once he’s sure he’s milked you for every second of your orgasm, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. 
“Up you get.” He taps his hand on your thigh, helping you to stand. 
He switches your places, you sit on the couch, legs spread with your wet cunt on display, him dropping to his knees in front of you, hooking your legs over his shoulders. You’ve barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth presses a soft kiss to your clit that has an obscene moan dropping from your lips. 
“Phone him,” Joel murmurs against your skin, motioning to your mobile phone on the side table, “Bet he’d love listening to you gettin’ your pussy ate.” 
You push yourself up just far enough to be able to grab your phone, fumbling with the keys as Joel continues to press teasing kisses along the skin of your thighs. You hit dial on Tommy’s number, listening as it rings three times before he picks up. 
“Hey sugar.” He greets. 
Joel can obviously hear his brother’s voice, because he chooses this moment to take his tongue and lick a wide stripe up your sex with the flat of his tongue, dipping between your folds to flick your clit. 
“Hey baby,” You reply, looking down at Joel’s face between your legs, “Your brother is here.” 
“That so?” You can hear him shuffling about on the other end, “You wanna tell me what he’s doin’?” 
Joel uses one of his big hands to spread your pussy open for him, taking his tongue all the way down to your weeping core, where he literally drinks from you, lapping up your slick like he’s gone forty days and forty nights without water. 
“He’s got his face between my legs Tommy,” You groan, “Eating my pussy so fucking well for me.” 
“Let me hear you, sugar,” Tommy coaxes, “He makin’ you feel good?” 
Joel’s tongue works its way up your pussy, tracing circles over your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. You let out an obscene moan down the phone, hips moving towards Joel’s face to chase more. You need more. You want more. His mouth needs to be closer to you. 
“So good baby,” You moan, free hand tangling in Joel’s hair, as he focuses all the attention of his tongue to your clit, “He’s going to make me come.” 
“Go on baby,” Tommy speaks, you can hear the clinking of his belt in the distance, and you know exactly what he’s going, “Let go for him.” 
Joel doesn’t even have to add his fingers to the equation this time. He wraps those perfect lips around your clit and sucks, tongue still flicking desperately over the sensitive bud, and you’re gone. Body arching off the couch, thighs clasped around his face as you cry out. You can hear Tommy on the other end of the phone chuckling, coaxing you through it, telling you what a good girl you’ve been. 
Joel finishes between your thighs with a final kiss to your clit before he’s pushing himself up off the floor. You’re taking deep breathes, pulling the phone from your ear to put Tommy on speaker phone, setting the phone back down on the side table while you stand, shedding your dress to leave you completely naked in front of Joel. He eyes you as he takes off his own clothes, letting out a low whistle, turning his head to the phone. 
“Fuckin’ hell brother,” He comments, letting a low whistle out, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch, getting to see her naked like this every day.” 
The tinny reverb of Tommy’s voice barking a laugh down the phone makes you smile. The way these two men have opened up and worshipped you, both in their own ways, but worship none the less, makes you feel like a goddess. Makes you swell with pride. You watch intently as Joel sheds the last of his clothes, letting your eyes drag over every inch of skin he reveals to you as each second passes. Then, once he’s as naked as you are, cock sprung to attention, he sits himself back down on the couch, guiding you to straddle his hips. 
“Gonna take what you want from me, pretty girl?” Joel asks, looking up at you with those big brown eyes, his big hands are guiding your hips, head of his cock nudging through the wetness of your slick cunt to push ever so slightly inside you. 
You let yourself sink fully down onto him, throwing your head back as that feeling off fullness you remember from last time. Joel drags his hands up your body, resting both on your ribcage, head coming forward to capture one of your tits in his mouth, sucking a nipple into his mouth to shower attention to it with his tongue. 
You grind your hips into his own, reveling in the way his palms squeeze your sides, teeth sinking into the skin of your breast. You settle your arms around Joel’s neck, one hand tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck as you lean back a little, hips grinding into his. The angle has you grinding your clit into his skin in just the right way. 
“Fuck,” He hisses, pulling himself away from you, “You’re gonna come again, aren’t you?” He teases, “I can feel that cunt clenching my cock baby.” 
You can hear Tommy groan on the phone, “Sugar, you’re so easy to please.” He speaks out from the side table. 
Joel’s hands grip your hips, guiding you to keep grinding on his cock like you are. It’s overwhelming, there is no other thought in your mind right now other than chasing the next high you can feel building in your lower body. Focused on nothing but grinding your body into Joel’s solid presence underneath you. Focused on listening to Tommy continuously praise you for being a perfect girl for them both. 
“Tommy, fuck-��� Joel breathes out, “I wish you could see her right now; she looks so fuckin’ good bouncing on my cock.” 
“Brother, I get to see her like this all the time,” He groans, “You enjoy her for yourself right now.” 
“Joel- please…” You beg, orgasm so close you could reach out and touch it, “I’m so fucking close.” 
“Go on, pretty girl,” Hands on your ass to continue the guiding of your movements, “I know you can do it for me.” 
And he’s right. He’s always fucking right. You grind yourself into him a few more times before white spots burst into your vision, and you feel yourself let go in a way you’ve never known before. Slick dripping down Joel’s cock, a literally scream on your lips as he pulls your body to his, finally slamming his cock into your tight cunt in earnest. 
“There’s three, baby girl.” He whispers into your ear, just for you to hear. His brother doesn’t need to know he’s issued himself a personal challenge to make you come more than he does. That’s just for the two of you to know. 
Your forehead is rested on his, cock stilled inside you to give you a moment to gather yourself. When you look into his eyes there’s something in those brown orbs, something daring you to lean forward. Press your lips to his own and let him devour you entirely. Let him have every piece of you. You almost do it, then you hear Tommy moan on the other end of the phone, breaking the spell between you and Joel. 
Something snaps behind his eyes. He gathers you, flipping you over until he has your legs hooked around his elbows, pussy spread for him, bent almost in half before he slams his thick cock into you, setting a bruising pace that has your breath hitching in your throat. It’s so hard and intense that tears are gathering in the corners of your eyes. The sounds of Joel’s skin slapping against you and his groans, your high-pitched whines drown out any noise that Tommy might be making over the phone. 
“Don’t worry,” Joel manages to breath out, seeing the tears dripping down your face, “Gonna give you what you need, hot mama.” 
“Please,” You beg, the sound hitting your own ears, weak and pathetic and truly at this man’s mercy, “Fill me up Joel, fuck a baby into me.” 
“Touch yourself,” He demands, “You got one more for me, I know you do, pretty girl.” 
It takes all your strength to do as he asks, fingers seeking out your clit. The touch you place to it is blurring the line between pleasure and pain, but when Joel is looking down at you like he is now, watching his cock split you in half, watching your face as you moan, touching yourself, you resign yourself to keep going, chase one more high with him. 
He drops one of your legs from its place hooked around his elbow, big hand coming to rest over your tummy, “Fuck Tommy,” He calls out, clearly only moments away from coming deep inside you, his fingers stroking the soft skin as his eyes train on your belly, “She’s gonna look so good when I finally knock her up for you, all swollen and perfect.” 
It’s the image that finishes you off this time. You close your eyes tight, pulling your hand from your clit as soon as you’re arching up into Joel, calling his name into the dark of the room, hands gripping at his biceps, nails forming perfect half-moons in his skin.  
“Good girl,” Joel praises, “Gonna fill you up now baby, you ready for me?” 
“Give it to me,” you demand, hands flying to grip the cheeks of his ass, bringing him in closer to you, “Joel please.” 
You don’t need to ask twice. Joel stills inside your spent cunt and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He rests his head on your chest, pulling in as much breath as he can, before he’s groaning, pulling himself out of you. He leans over and picks up the phone, taking it off speaker to hand it to you, then he disappears to the kitchen. 
“You okay, sugar?” Tommy asks, voice soft at the other end of the phone. 
“Yeah, I’m good,” You mumble, closing your spread legs and bringing them up to your chest, trying to keep as much of Joel’s cum inside you as possible, “Tired.” 
“Did so good for us again, didn’t you?” You smile, responding with a quiet ‘mmm hmm’, “Yeah that’s right, so good for me sugar,” He clears his throat on the other end of the phone, “You make sure Joel gets you to bed alright?” Another response that’s just a noise from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
You mumble a goodbye and hang up the phone, just in time for Joel to appear with a glass of water. He sits on the edge of the couch, helping you to sit up so you can take big gulps of the liquid. One of his hands is settled on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. 
“Y’alright?” He asks. 
“Yeah, I’m good,” You smile, “Tommy says you have to put me to bed.” 
Joel chuckles, “Course he did,” He stands, taking the almost empty glass from your hand before he slips one arm under your knees, the other across the small of your back, lifting you easily from the couch, “Come on then.” 
He walks you up the stairs and into your bedroom. You’re warm and pliant and you smile as he pulls the duvet up and over you, settling you into bed with a soft kiss pressed to your forehead, “I’ll see you in the morning, pretty girl.” He muses as you drift off to sleep. 
Joel lifts himself from the bed when your breathing settles, stopping briefly to look at you from the doorway before he heads back downstairs and dresses himself. He pours himself a glass of Tommy’s finest whiskey, letting his head drop to the back of the couch. He would stay tonight, downstairs, just in case you needed someone. Just in case you woke up and needed someone to soothe you. He didn’t know how Tommy had been last time once he’d gone home but he bets you needed the comfort. Someone to tell you it would be alright, that you’d done the right thing. It takes all his strength not to stand, strip his clothes back off and settle himself in bed behind you, strong arms wrapped around you to keep you safe. Make you feel secure. He would stay here tonight, just in case you needed him. 
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