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mypoisonedvine · 10 months

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𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 | dad's best friend!cillian murphy x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | based on the following request: what would dilf/dad's best friend cillian do if he found your dildo?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5k (this was literally supposed to be a drabble...)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), significant age gap (reader is college-aged, cillian is in his late forties), voyeurism/exhibitionism, semi-public sex, use of toys, praise kink, unprotected sex, very brief/semi sarcastic 'sir' kink, shockingly fluffy??

Not that your parents' anniversary cocktail party wasn't horribly riveting (cue dramatic eyeroll) but you were upstairs, on your bed, on your phone; you'd had enough of 'so how's college going?' and 'what's your major again?' and 'got any boyfriends yet? you must be a heartbreaker' for one evening— or a lifetime, preferably.

It wasn’t even that comfortable to be on the bed in your party dress—a cute, short sparkly one that you’d picked out for tonight—but it was better than standing around and trying to balance in those sky-high heels; those you had kicked off into the corner of the room the second you were alone.

When you heard a small rap on the door, you hummed a quick "Come in!" and didn't even look up from your phone, figuring it was your mom or dad come to find you after you disappeared.

Instead, you heard Mr. Murphy's voice as he leaned in the doorframe; "Sorry to bug you," he said, startling you slightly as you closed Instagram and set your phone down. "Just needed a Tide pen— your mom said you might have one in here?"

"O-oh, yeah," you said, sitting up, "sure— what happened?"

"Salsa fiasco," he joked softly as he shut the door behind him, showing you the dark red stain on his shirt— though the shirt itself was red, so it wasn't too egregious, but still noticeable.

"That's too bad," you chuckled, "I warned them about that salsa— if you serve salsa, there's gonna be a fiasco, that's what I said."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "They should listen to you more," he agreed.

"I've got a couple stain remover pens in that top drawer," you suggested as you pointed to your dresser.

"Great," he smiled, starting to unbutton the shirt; you got nervous for a second until you realized he had on a black undershirt beneath. It's hard to say why you were nervous about that, since you'd seen him shirtless plenty of times in the years you'd known him...

"Nobody's worried about me going missing, right?" you wondered as he continued working on the buttons, and he shook his head while shrugging slightly.

"Not yet," he replied, "but they're going to want to find you soon, you're sort of the star of the night."

You rolled your eyes, frowning. "It's my parents' anniversary party, I think they should be the focus."

"Maybe they should, but you're the much more interesting one," he informed you.

You pulled your legs up a bit, leaning to the side as you sat on your bed; as much as all this attention from your parents' friends was usually annoying to you, something about being interesting to Mr. Murphy didn't bother you so much. "Is it weird for you?" you asked, lowering your voice a bit; he tilted his head quickly as if to ask what you meant. "Going to an anniversary party after, you know—"

The words hung in the air, seeming to gather around his conspicuously naked ring finger: after the divorce. "Oh, no," he scoffed, taking off his cufflinks. "It's fine; but I'm sick of the questions about it."

You winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry," he laughed finally shirking off the shirt; he looked a little too good in just the short-sleeved undershirt. "You can make it even by letting me ask you how college is going."

"Oh god," you groaned, rolling your eyes, and he laughed.

"If I didn't know from your parents that you were acing it, I'd worry that your aversion to talking about it meant you were struggling somehow."

"It's not that," you assured, "it's the people."

"The people?" he pressed. "Or the guys?"

You laughed nervously, looking down at your lap. "Geez, you learn to mindread while I was gone or something?"

He stepped around your bed to get to the dresser, laying his shirt down over it. "No, I just remember that time— somehow. And I remember how much of a headache I and every other young guy was."

"I guess not much has changed then," you smiled.

"What, I'm still a headache?" he grinned as he looked over his shoulder at you.

"No, I meant—"

"I know what you meant, I'm just teasing," he chuckled. "Top drawer you said?"

"Yeah," you nodded, and he opened the top drawer of the dresser; of course, only right then did you remember that you should have specifically said top left. Because the top right was—

Oh shit.

You swallowed thickly as Cillian stared down into the open drawer, and your heart pounded as you somehow hoped and prayed that what was in there had turned invisible or something; but if the look on his face was anything to go by, it was just as visible as ever.

“I—fuck, sorry, I forgot that’s—” you choked out, face burning impossibly hot. “I never meant for you to see—I’m—could you shut the fucking drawer, please, you pervert?!”

“I’m the pervert?” he laughed thinly, looking at you again finally. “You’re the one with a massive fucking dildo in here.”

“Well—you weren’t supposed to see that—”

“Yeah, but—fuck,” he choked, “I was just looking for your stain remover and I see your— you have a— are you sure that isn’t technically considered a weapon or something? How’s a guy supposed to compete with that?”

“That’s the great thing about it: he doesn’t have to compete,” you explained, “that’s sort of the whole idea.”

He looked back at it for a second and you yelped, reaching your leg off the bed to kick him in the hip. “Would you please shut the drawer?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed a bit, “but I mean, how am I supposed to react to that?

“Well, you’re not supposed to just stare at it!” you insisted.

He shut the drawer, giving you a look you couldn’t possibly decipher.

“What were you thinking?!” you said, somewhat rhetorically.

“I—well,” he hummed, looking away from you for a second, “I was thinking that I can’t imagine how you can possibly fit something like that.”

You blinked quickly, not sure what to say in response to that. “Well—I mean, it’s a little big, but… it gets the job done. Keeps me from calling the guys I shouldn’t be calling.”

He nodded. “Well, that’s good… none of those college boys could possibly deserve you…”

His eyes were running all over you, and even though you’d picked out this dress just for this party because you loved how you looked in it, you felt a little exposed by his stare.

“I just can’t believe a girl like you—”

“Come on, I’ve never been a saint,” you scoffed, glancing away.

“No, I just mean… the size of that thing…” he trailed off.

“You really can’t get over that part,” you noticed, “is this some kind of… intimidation, Freudian situation?”

You glanced quickly at his pants, and he started to deny it instantly. “No—come on, it’s not—I just can’t believe you take all that. For fun. It looks like it would break you.”

You hadn’t even had any drinks at this anniversary party, and yet you found yourself with this foggy head like you were tipsy; you blurted something out as if you were tipsy. “What, you want me to prove it?”

His chest sunk a bit, and you were about to take it back when he spoke before you. “I’d like to see you try.”

Biting your lip, you sat up on the bed, reaching around him and into the drawer. He didn’t step back or out of the way, just let you grab the toy and lean back on the bed in front of him.

You reached up under your dress, sliding your panties out of the way, finding yourself suddenly plenty wet to fit this toy.

His eyes never left you, though they certainly travelled all over your body as you pressed the toy up to your entrance; it was thick, he wasn’t wrong, and you had to slowly warm yourself up to it whenever you used it on yourself.

After pushing with enough pressure, the tip finally slipped inside and you let out a small sigh. He watched carefully, and your lips fell open into a moan as you pushed the toy deeper into yourself. When the stretch became a bit too sharp, you winced and slowed down, trying to take your time even with your heart racing and hands shaking.

You heard his own breathing picking up, watching you take the toy deeper; you found your gaze wandering over him, even lingering on his groin to see if you could catch a bulge growing there, but nothing was obvious yet. You stared for a moment at his hands, too, suddenly wishing to have them all over you—well, maybe not that suddenly, you’d sort of thought about this before. It wasn’t until somewhat recently that you noticed how sexy he was. Maybe when you were younger, you understood that he was better looking than all the other adults you knew, but only once you left for college did you start thinking about him out of nowhere, imagining what he was really like when he wasn’t just being friendly with you—you even asked your mom once on a phone call if he was dating anyone. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to get suspicious when you asked that; but she’d be more than fucking suspicious if she walked in now, saw you doing this to yourself under his watchful eye.

Oddly enough, the knowledge that someone could walk in and see this just made you even more desperate, and you gasped as you pushed the toy in deeper.

It still wasn’t all the way in, and you already felt so full… truth be told, he had a point about it maybe being too big for you—when you usually used it on yourself, you only put it in a little over halfway, since that was all you really needed. You hadn’t put the whole thing inside since you first got it—and yes, you’d ordered it online, because if you’d seen it in person you probably would’ve been as intimidated by its girth as he was.

Your decision not to wear a bra with this dress became very apparent when his gaze settled on your chest; your nipples were hard, and clearly visible under the fabric now. It was just because it was strapless that you went without, but you were thankful for it when you saw him quickly lick his lips at the sight. You dared to moan just a little louder as you pulled the toy in and out, picking up your pace carefully.

“How’s it feel?” he asked lowly, his eyes drifting back to where the toy slid into you.

“Good,” you mumbled, “really fucking good.”

“Can you really take it all?” he pressed, making your walls clench on the silicone.

Instead of answering aloud, you simply pushed it all the way in until your eyes rolled back—it was so deep, pressing heavy and fat against your deepest points until it felt like you might burst.

“Fuck,” he praised—it was just a swear, but the way he whispered it made it sound like a praise.

You sped up slightly, trying to do this the way you normally would without someone staring at you. But you were even more sensitive with him watching, your walls clenching more and more around the toy until it was almost hard to keep thrusting it in and out. Sighing, you shut your eyes and laid back on the bed to try to help yourself relax. The change in angle just seemed to make the toy go deeper, rubbing harder against the spot inside you that made your back arch.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed; you whimpered, nodding in agreement, and kept moving the dildo as deep as you could get it with every thrust.

Your free arm went back over your head to hold onto the comforter under you, your hand gripping tight for some relief for the pressure inside you. “Fuck yes,” you whispered, knitting your brows together and fucking yourself faster. “Feels so fucking good…”

He hummed a little, but you kept your eyes shut, afraid you’d lose your nerve if you looked at him again. It had been months since you used anything but this, and you had no regrets—the toy performed way better than any of the guys you’d met at college. But, truthfully, you didn’t like having to do this to yourself. It felt like you could never move it fast or hard enough, and you needed to constantly have perfect control over the toy to get yourself to come—and when you come, the last thing you want is to take control, you want to lay back and lose control. Still, it was better than the college fuckboys who smelled like beer and didn’t last more than two minutes.

Thinking about them wasn’t going to help you now, though; it was much better to think about Cillian, about those icy blue eyes running all over your body, about how his hands would hold you down while he claimed you, about how his lips would feel on your neck before he whispered in your ear that you were his…

You let out a sharp and sudden moan as the toy hit harder on that spot; your legs started to shake. “Good girl,” he mumbled, making you moan even louder because god, those words just sounded right in his accent, with that rough voice—and they sounded right being said to you.

“Fuck,” you choked, “Mr. Murphy, I—”

He laughed a little. “So polite,” he cooed. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

Though it made your heart beat even faster, you did as you were told. His stare was all-encompassing, making you feel completely trapped in a way you enjoyed more than you could’ve imagined.

“Call me Cillian,” he insisted.

You weren’t sure if he meant to literally call him that right in that moment, but it sort of came out anyway: “Cillian,” you moaned, and the grip he’d taken on the dresser behind him tightened.

“Can you come for me?” he asked lowly. “Right now? Can you come on that fake cock?”

You bit your lip and nodded, moving the toy faster and faster— more desperate to come than ever. “I—fuck, yeah, I’m close…”

“Good,” he praised again. “Let me see you come, honey.”

Your back arched harder, deeper—your hands were shaking but you kept going, holding on tight to the dildo and forcing it back and forth as your legs began to quiver.

Moans poured from your mouth faster than you could try to quiet them—everyone was downstairs, you just had to hope the music and conversation was enough to drown out your desperate, pleading noises. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbled, right as you hit the peak and melted into the mattress, a wave of ecstasy pouring over you.

You felt hot everywhere, but especially between your legs—you could swear you felt yourself leaking out around the toy, soaking it, giving away how needy you’d become and not even having the mental energy to feel any shame for it.

Cillian certainly didn’t look like he was trying to shame you for it; when you opened your eyes again, he had a stunned expression—in the best way. “You normally come that fast for a toy?”

You laughed a little, but you still couldn’t quite catch your breath. “No,” you admitted, “it normally takes… a bit longer than that…”

“What was different about tonight?” he mused, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes again.

“Shut up,” you sighed. “Now I have to figure out how to take this thing out—I’m always sore after…”

“If you can handle putting it in, taking it out shouldn’t be much trouble,” he noticed.

Which, yes, that would make sense, but after coming you always got all tight and sensitive and it could be a little intense.

“How about I help you?” he offered, and your chest tightened. He waited for you to nod before carefully wrapping his hand around your own, watching your face as he gently guided you to pull the toy out.

Your lips were slack and your eyes were probably glassy and dazed as he looked at you like that, completely enveloping you in his stare as he studied every detail of your expression. Aside from some heavy breathing you didn’t react much to him sliding the toy out of you, until the ridge of the head reached your entrance and you winced.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s okay…”

A long sigh of relief emptied your chest when the toy tapered off and you felt the last of it slip out of you; you really noticed then how soaked you were, as a draft in the room seemed to cling to the patch of wetness that had coated all between your legs somehow.

“Lemme see, baby,” he cooed under his breath as he set the toy aside, kneeling down and resting a hand on the inside of your thigh to keep your legs open.

You could barely catch your breath with him doing that; you’d never had someone… look at it like that. You felt incredibly vulnerable but impossibly sexy as you heard him sigh at the sight. “Is it all stretched out now?” you wondered.

“No,” he said, “you look… just as tight as before. Fuck. That’s incredible.”

You bit your lip, sitting up enough to try to get a look at his face past the puffiness of your dress’ skirt, and he smirked up at you with the loveliest sparkle in his eye. “Really?” you breathed, and he nodded.

Even though your hands were still shaking you suddenly felt brave; maybe it was just the afterglow, but you grabbed him by the shirt and sat up to kiss him, colliding your lips with his. He reciprocated instantly, putting his hands on your upper back that the strapless dress left bare.

The kiss was perfect—needy but not too fast, sweet but not too chaste, teasing but not too slow. The guys in college couldn’t even kiss like this… you were wondering why you ever even tried with them—or, you would’ve been if that kiss left you capable of thinking about anything but him. “Need you,” you whispered as you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips, a hand holding your waist while he started to kiss your neck and jaw. “Not here—your parents—”

“Don’t care,” you whimpered, “I’m so—fuck, Cillian, please—”

“You already came,” he noticed with a small laugh, “didn’t that take the edge off?”

“Not enough,” you whined, getting impatient and running a hand down over his shirt and down to his pants—and you smiled proudly as you felt the hardening bulge beneath. He choked a little when you touched him there, holding you tighter. “You want me too,” you noticed.

“Of course I do, but—” he breathed, then stopped himself as he tossed you back on the bed; you giggled as he crawled up over you, pinning you down. “But we can’t… your parents would have my head on a platter—once they’re done serving crawfish etouffee off of it downstairs.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on telling my parents,” you smirked. “Were you?”

“No,” he agreed, kissing your neck again as you hummed happily. “But if they found out—”

“So? They wouldn’t like if they found out about what just happened, either—and they won’t.”

“But this is different,” he insisted.

“How?”

“Because this…”

He trailed off, kissing down your neck and over your shoulder, until a hand reached up to pull your dress down and expose your chest.

“Shit,” he sighed at the sight of it, and you smiled up at him.

“You were saying?” you teased.

“Right, erm,” he swallowed, “this is different because—because if we do this, you’re gonna be my girl. Not just a misguided one-time fuck because you were turned on after screwing yourself with your dildo while I watched.”

You felt a little out of breath but nodded up at him. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Okay?” he repeated, looking a little shocked. “I tell you that you have to be mine and you just say okay?”

“What was I supposed to say, yes sir?” you joked.

“I just mean—shit, if I knew it would be this easy, I would’ve said something sooner,” he chuckled. “But I’m, er, not complaining about the yes sir thing either…”

He sat up and started to unbutton his pants, making you wiggle a bit on the bed impatiently. Even though you’d just gotten filled by your big toy, you felt needier than ever for something inside you—something real.

Your throat caught when he took it out— it was pale and veiny just like the rest of him; long, uncut, a bead of precum starting to leak from the slit… it was beautiful, honestly. The artificial fleshy hue of the silicone could never compete.

“Big enough for you?” he asked with a smirk, but you had to swallow before you answered because your mouth was watering.

“Yeah,” you panted, “plenty.”

He kissed you again, laying more of his weight on top of you; your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him close as he pressed you down into your bed.

One hand found your wrist and held it back above your head, while the other kept a tight wrap around his cock so he could guide it to your waiting entrance. When he pushed inside, you both sighed with relief like you’d been longing for this for ages—perhaps because both of you had, in your own ways. “Fuck,” you breathed, “Cillian…”

He whispered your name back to you, heavy and desperate and right by your ear, and you absolutely knew you were his, just like he said. He only stilled for a moment when he was all the way inside, already starting to rock back and forth—but he was sort of tender about it, watching you move under him as he fucked you. “So pretty,” he praised quietly, kissing you again, even harder than before. You both moaned into the kiss, and a warm, rough hand settled on your thigh under your dress.

Soon, the pleasure was too much to even focus on kissing, and your mouth just fell wide open in front of his as needy moans passed through it. He stayed close, though, watching your face go slack with ecstasy. The previous orgasm had left you sticky and sensitive inside, still totally dripping for him, everything in you begging for more. “Oh my god,” you sighed, eyes rolling back, your composure completely slipping already. He made you feel so good so easily—and fuck, the way he was looking at you, it was just too much to bear.

“Mm,” he hummed proudly, latching his lips onto your neck again until your fingers tangled in his hair. He moved down and caught a nipple in his mouth, making you whimper as he suckled at it gently.

“Fuck,” you whined, nearly pulling him along by the hair when he moved to the other one; you couldn’t stop clenching inside, squeezing him until he groaned against your skin.

“Won’t last if you keep doing that,” he warned you softly.

“What if I don’t want you to?” you teased, and he growled a little between his teeth, sitting up to look down at you. He fucked you harder, but put a hand on top of your head and pet your hair for a moment, looking at you like you hung the moon; how could he be so dirty then so adorable within the same split-second?!

“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” he decided, speaking softly, “how about that? What do you want me to do?”

That was a little too much power to give you, at least in your opinion, but you grinned as you considered it. “Then I want you to come way too quick,” you decided, “like all those annoying college boys—because you just can’t help yourself.”

He laughed a little, though he stopped to bite his lip as he fucked you even harder—and faster, too. “Okay,” he breathed, “don’t know why you want that, but—fuck— it won’t be very difficult after that little show you gave me. You look so pretty when you come…”

“Just keep going and you can see it again,” you promised, holding onto him tighter as he pressed into you and really let you have it—not really rough or anything, you couldn’t risk making any more noise than you were, but still aggressive and passionate and desperate.

He kissed your neck again, burying his face in your shoulder and finding the spot that made you gasp out his name suddenly; your fingers clutched at fistfuls of his undershirt, and your legs began to shake where they were hooked around his hips and half-pushed-down pants.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, the pleasure hitting you again—but it was better than with the toy, it was stronger, and it just kept going because he kept going. When your head fell back onto the mattress with a sigh, he realized that he’d made you come.

“Wait, fuck, I wasn’t looking,” he rushed as he popped his head up from the crook of your neck, “do it again.”

You laughed breathlessly and pushed against his shoulder a bit; “Shut up, I can’t do it on command.”

“You did it the last two times I told you to,” he reminded you, and that just made you feel even more deliciously dizzy.

Yes, you were definitely his girl now—totally addicted to him. You’d never felt like this with somebody—not just physically, but the trust and the laughter and the comfort of it all. This wasn’t a too-empty dorm room that still smelled like fresh paint, it wasn’t a mattress with no sheets in an apartment with 5 roommates nearby, it wasn’t a guy you vaguely knew from a two-hundred-student class or someone you saw on a dating app and talked with for an afternoon before meeting for ‘coffee’ (it was never just coffee). This was Mr. Murphy—and that should’ve made it weirder, but somehow, it just made it make more sense.

“So, if I tell you to come again,” he spoke lowly by your ear, a new authority to his tone, “you should come.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say: “Yes, sir,” you breathed, hugging him close to you and pressing your face against his shoulder.

Of course, it wasn’t quite instantaneous, but just another minute of him giving you those deep, controlled thrusts right into your favorite spot sent you over the edge easily—and this time, he gently guided your face out of its hiding spot and looked at you, watched your pleasure overtake you, tenderly rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Good girl,” he praised softly, kissing you again just as the last of it drained from you; you were so numb that you barely heard him whisper something to you—it took you a few seconds to process it.

“I’m gonna come,” he’d whispered to you, “fuck, you’re so fucking warm…”

“Come inside,” you instructed, and for all the concern he tried to perform for you after you said that, his moan was undeniable, as was the way he started to move faster.

“Fuck, really?” he nearly whined. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, panting.

“You’re on—”

“Yes, please, just come inside me,” you begged, and he finally stopped protesting and pressed himself as deep into you as he could—you could feel the way his cock flexed, and it made your exhausted walls dig up just enough energy to flex back.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, holding onto you tightly.

You hummed a little at the feeling, turning your face towards his, hoping to see what he looked like in this moment—but he pulled you into another kiss before you could get a good look. Even this kiss was different from the others—a little slower, a little more tired in a wonderful, dreamy way. He was breathing heavy against you, and eventually he found the energy to push himself up with his arms on either side of your head, and you smiled up at him. He looked really fucking good like this: his face a bit flushed, which seemed to show his freckles and fine lines even more (which you adored); his hair falling down, a little wavier from the slight sweat he’d worked up; his lips swollen and slick from the kisses; and those eyes, they looked as beautiful as always, but they made you feel beautiful, too.

“Is taking this one out gonna hurt, too?” he asked you with a smirk.

“Probably a little,” you shrugged.

“For both of us,” he agreed, “I’m so fucking sensitive now… you really do have me acting like a desperate college boy—but you know, it’s been a while, so…”

“Right, sure—good excuse,” you joked, but you didn’t mind any of it either way.

He did it a little quicker, pulling back as he took a sharp breath in, and you giggled softly.

“Fuck, I can feel it, like… leaking out,” you admitted, biting your lip at the sick satisfaction of the warm gush.

“I think I need to see that,” he said, sitting up and picking your legs up from under the knee to look at you. This was apparently a habit of his—and you were starting to get used to it already.

“How’s it look?” you asked, wondering if he’d finally stretched you out after that.

He just stared at it for a moment longer, running his tongue over his teeth, before finally looking back at you and saying with a smile: “Looks like you need the Tide pen more than I do.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy rpf

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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 months

Text

Got My Mind Set On You - Jake Seresin x Reader

A/N: I know I said fluff, but somehow I got to spicy stuff instead. Oops.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

content/warnings: suggested smut.

word count: 1.7k

Jake Seresin leaned casually against the rustic exposed wooden beam of the dimly lit bar, his gaze fixed on you as you shared a moment of laughter with your friends across the room. With the air of someone who knew they were being watched, he flicked another dart effortlessly towards the board, the satisfying thud of it hitting the bullseye punctuating the room. He took a slow sip of his beer, the corner of his lips curling into a self-assured smirk as his friends marveled at his accuracy.

Javy couldn't help but prod at Jake's seemingly supernatural dart-throwing abilities. "How do you do it, man? You never even look at the board."

Jake chuckled, tapping the side of his temple with his index finger. "Photographic memory, my friend. I've got every angle mapped out up here," he said with a grin, never once breaking his gaze from you.

Bradley, ever the skeptic, scoffed from the sidelines. "Oh, please. Anyone can get lucky tossing darts at a board."

A challenge hung heavy in the air as Jake raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Care to put that theory to the test, Bradshaw?"

Bradley, never one to back down, accepted with a lazy smirk. "Fine. But don't blame me if your girl decides she wants a more skilled pilot."

"Bring it on," Jake replied, his confidence unwavering.

With practiced ease, Bradley sent his first dart flying, hitting the bullseye just as he predicted. Jake's expression remained cool, but there was a flicker of admiration in his eyes as Bradley repeated the feat with his second shot. Bullseye again.

Jake's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, raising his pint glass towards the dartboard. "You can't do it a third time."

Bradley's competitive spirit flared as he confidently launched his final dart, only to miss the mark by a fraction of an inch. He turned to Jake, a hint of defiance in his eyes as he admitted defeat.

Jake couldn't resist a playful jab. "Not quite perfect, Bradley."

But any teasing was forgotten as you appeared beside him, your touch warm on his shoulder. "Hey there, sugar," Jake greeted you with a smile. "See me get a perfect streak?" Jake purposefully drawled out the word ‘perfect’, resulting in a dramatic eyeroll from Bradley.

Jake's smile softened as he wrapped an arm around you, his gaze never straying far from yours. You grinned as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, nodding your head as you spoke. “Sure did, honey. You did great!”, you gushed.

“I am great, darlin’, you know that.”

Bradley groaned and rolled his eyes before downing the rest of his beer. With an exaggerated sigh, he shook his head, holding his empty glass up to you and the others before speaking.

“Anyone down for another round? I’ll buy.”

You chuckled at Bradley's offer, exchanging knowing glances with Jake before nodding in agreement. "I could go for another," you said with a grin, feeling Jake's arm tighten slightly around your waist.

“Sure, thanks man,” Jake started, handing Bradley his empty glass, “After, why don’t we rematch? We can switch to the pool table, if you guys would rather, that way you might actually have a chance at beating me.”

Bradley scoffed and shook his head. “Fine, you’re on.”

Javy, always up for a good time, eagerly agreed. "I'm in. Let's see if lightning strikes twice for old Bradshaw here."

Bradley shot Javy a mock glare before laughing, his competitive streak undeterred. "We'll see about that," he retorted, already heading towards the bar to order everyone’s drinks.

As Bradley disappeared into the crowd, you leaned into Jake's side, relishing in the warmth of his presence. The soft buzz of conversation and clinking glasses enveloped you, creating a comforting backdrop to the evening.

"You know, I think Bradley's just jealous," you whispered teasingly, tilting your head up to meet Jake's gaze.

Jake chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you. "Can you blame him?" he replied, his voice low and playful. "After all, he's got to compete with the best."

You rolled your eyes affectionately, swatting his chest playfully. "Smooth talker," you teased, but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Besides all that, I’ve got the best girl, so really, poor Bradley didn’t stand a chance, did he?” Jake whispered as he leaned into your ear, his green eyes fixed on yours as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“The best girl, huh?” You mused, raising an eyebrow, “That’s a new one for me.”

“Mhmm,” Jake hummed as he gave you a playful tap on the nose with his index finger. “You better get used to it, honey.”

As you all rounded the pool table, gathering into your teams, Bradley furrowed his brow as he gestured to you and Jake as Jake kept you close to him for his team.

“Oh no you don’t loverboy.” Bradley chided, shaking his head, “She’s on my team. Together you two’ll just end up getting handsy on the pool table and make us all lose our lunch.”

“He’s got a point there, don’t he?” Jake shrugged as he conceded, letting go of his protective, loving grip on your waist.

You watched as Bradley lined up to take his shot. Observing his form carefully, you tried to make mental notes so you could match his game - you weren’t the greatest at pool, Jake usually used teaching you as an excuse to put his hands all over you, not that you complained. It just resulted in some incredibly short lessons in pool, and some playful sessions in the bed of his Ford F-150.

Bradley leaned in close to your ear, whispering softly as he came up with a game strategy. “How well can you accidentally distract Jake?”

“Oh, easy,” you responded with confidence, nodding your head slightly as your gaze fixated on Jake, who was lining his pool cue up for his turn.

“Perfect, do your thing.”

You sipped your cocktail and fiddled with the straw, your lips encircling the tip in a way that you knew Jake would interpret as suggestive. Sure enough, as soon as Jake looked up at you, sea-green eyes locked in a gaze at your mouth as it played with the end of your straw, he missed his shot, causing the cue ball to bounce off the edge of the table, not striking anything in its path. Jake straightened his posture, raising an eyebrow at you as you set your glass down to take your own shot. Bradley smirked from behind his beer bottle, admiring your technique for riling Jake up better than any amount of trash talk ever could.

During Jake’s next turn, you shoved your glass into Bradley’s open hand, before fiddling and unbuttoning the top two buttons of your plaid shirt, exposing just enough cleavage to have Jake’s mind wandering. Once again, as soon as Jake caught a glimpse of you, he missed his shot, shaking his head and grumbling to himself as Javy joked about him being off his game.

“I’m not off my game. Everyone has one off game.”

“Just admit it, Jake, you’re not as good at pool as they are. Bradley’s got you beat.”

Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes again, before leaning over to take his next shot, trying to follow up after you sink one of the balls into the pocket, eliciting a high-five and a cheer from Bradley. As the game progressed, Jake caught on to your little game. His cheeks blushed when you whispered what you wanted him to do to you later that evening, he had to clear his throat to cover the involuntary moan that threatened to escape his mouth when your hand caressed his bicep, and he had to position himself carefully behind the pool table while he tried to focus his mind on anything other than the mental image you put in his head when you described what kind of underwear you were wearing under your skirt.

After losing another round, Jake felt a simmering frustration bubbling beneath his skin, an insistent urge gnawing at him with every passing moment. He clenched his jaw, struggling to rein in the primal desires coursing through him. All he could think about was laying you down on the smooth surface of the pool table, indulging in the raw passion that pulsed between you. But he knew he couldn't act on those impulses, not here, not now.

Instead, he tossed the pool cue down with an uncharacteristic huff, the weight of his competitive nature hanging heavy in the air. His typically composed demeanor faltered, a rare glimpse of vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he turned away. You exchanged a knowing glance with Bradley, silently acknowledging the tension that hung between you all, before following Jake's retreating figure outside.

The night air enveloped you like a thick blanket as you stepped out of the dimly lit bar, the humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. Concern etched across your features, you approached Jake cautiously, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night.

"Jake?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as you closed the distance between you.

"Mhmm?" His response was gruff, his body tense as he leaned against the side of his truck, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Are you alright?" you asked softly, furrowing your brow with worry. "I wasn’t trying to be a dick—Bradley and I just thought it’d be funny if I, you know, distracted you a little."

Jake chuckled, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes as he turned to face you. "I'm not mad."

"You aren’t?" Relief flooded through you, easing the tension in your shoulders.

"Of course not," he reassured you, his gaze softening as he reached out to pull you into his embrace. "I mean, you got me good, I’ll give you that."

"I did?" A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for his understanding.

"Sure did, Sugar." Jake's smirk was equal parts wicked and enticing, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But now it’s my turn to get you back." His words hung in the air like a promise, igniting a fire in your veins as you met his gaze with a playful challenge of your own.

544 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 10 months

Text

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #female reader #twd smut #not tagging this with norman reedus bc i have posted my face before and I'm not that bold #or am I?

3K notes · View notes

underoossss · 11 months

Text

Tell me – Miguel O’Hara

pairing: jealous!miguel ohara x f!reader

warnings: none

an: had a lot of fun writing this, pls laugh with me when you see the little crossover I included lol. anyway, have some pining!miguel that gets jealous when he learns something from your mission and a pining spiderwoman who gets on his nerves

masterlist

—-

“So, there you have it guys, another fun adventure for Spider-Sting.” You say as you step back into the Society, a rogue Scorpion trapped next to you and your phone help up high to frame the two of you. The displeased villain rolls his eyes and you laugh. “Bye!”

A frustrated groan comes from your watch a second later, and you smile knowing who it belongs to. You shoot a web towards the trap and hold it over your shoulder, dragging the Scorpion behind you on your way to Miguel’s lab. “Let me guess,” You say, pocketing your phone and knowing what Miguel’s going to say next.

“No social media use while on duty.”

“Live a little, babe.” You smile, taking your mask off and waving at Webslinger when you spot him dropping off a villain of his own. “Hosting a live while working won’t hurt anybody.”

The Scorpion is taken away by Margo to be sent back home when Miguel speaks again. “It can hurt you.”

“Aw, Miguelito. You do care about me!” You smile at one of his cameras, hand over your heart, as you pass by on your way to his lab. “Anyway, I gotta tell you something. You’re not busy, are you?”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Miguel’s voice gives away the likely eyeroll he’s giving you through one of his glowing orange screens. “You need to file your report anyway.”

“Say, here’s a suggestion,” You start, grinning widely when Miguel’s no comes from both your watch and above you once you’re in his office. Feigning being upset you mutter, “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I’m not filing your report, pulguita.” Miguel says, not looking at you but lowering his platform so you can step on it. As always the yellow and orange glow of the screens bathe him in their light, making it hard not to stare at his handsome features. The bridge of his nose, his bottom lip, the sharp edge of his cheekbones.

“Worth a shot.” You tell him as you stand next to him and sit on a free spot over his desk. Your friend turns slightly towards you, sending an amused look your way before he goes back to typing away on a keyboard. It’s his way of saying go on, so you do.

“Anyway! The mission started off alright, the bastard almost got me –can you believe he wasn’t amused by my jokes? I mean what are odds he has a stinger and he’s fighting someone calling herself the Spider-Sting– whatever, the thing is I had it like 70%–”

“Seventy huh?”

“Hush! 70% under control and this dude shows up out of nowhere, white suit with like gold moons what worked just like boomerangs? He tries to kill my villain!” You throw your hands up in exasperation at the memory.

“Uh-huh, so what did you do? You brought the Scorpion back with you, so you must have won.” Miguel is still looking at whatever he’s messing with on the computer, tsk-ing every time he messes something up. His tone holds something like fondness mixed with pride, it makes your whole body warm.

“So, I had to tell him, I have to take this guy with me, and he goes I can’t let you do that.” You continue, hopping off the desk and walking to Miguel’s other side. When you lean over to look at his face he looks down, eyes meeting yours briefly, waiting for whatever you’re going to say next. “Babe, he sounded just like you! I’m not even joking; I got it on video ‘cause I was live –as you reprimanded me for– but Lyla can tell you!”

“It’s true.” Lyla blinks into existence over Miguel’s shoulder, messing around with her phone for a moment before smiling teasingly at her boss. “He was all: sweetheart, I don’t care if I sound like your boyfriend, and Sting went–”

“What?” Miguel pauses his typing and turns to look at you. “What did he say?”

“I didn’t tell him you’re my boyfriend.” You wave him off, crossing your arms and looking away; your defenses go up immediately. Despite all your teasing and flirting, the last thing you want is for Miguel to find out about your dumb crush on him. Dumb in the sense that he’s never going to feel the same. “He just assumed you were–”

“He called you sweetheart?” Miguel asks, voice low and turning back to his screens.

“Well yeah, I–” You stop yourself short, glancing over at the tall man in front of you and taking in his stance.

Miguel’s hands are clenched into fists on either side of him, his neck muscles tense from whatever he’s feeling. Both his brows are pressed together in the middle of his forehead and his full lips are pulled down in an upset frown. In a moment, your body lights up as hope settles on your chest. Is he?

“Are you jealous?” You ask slowly, dragging out the word as you tilt your head.

“I think he is.” Lyla blinks in front of Miguel’s face, laying on her stomach, chin on her palm.

“Lyla.” Miguel grumbles which causes her to go away, out of mercy you’re sure. “I’m not jealous.”

“Hmm.” You scoot closer to him, letting your hands fall to your sides. Curious to see where this goes, and because you can’t help yourself, you exaggerate the end of your story. “Anyway, he was really flirty, but I distracted him enough that I captured the Scorpion and came back here before he could give me his number.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes betray his emotions when he meets your gaze. He’s incredulous at your retelling of your adventure, but even more so outraged at your last words. His mouth is still twisted in a sneer, though at what you don’t know.

“What’s the problem? The fact that he called me sweetheart or something else?” You place your hands on your hips, done teasing and very curious. “You call me nicknames all the time.”

��They’re not nicknames.” Miguel tells you before he can stop himself and looks away when he realizes his mistake. “I’m busy. Go file your report.”

“Oh, not nicknames, then what are they?” You don’t back down, rolling your eyes when he turns his back to you. “That’s it you’re going to be annoyed out of jealousy? I flirt with you all the time.”

“That’s different and you know it.” Miguel says turning around, eyes scanning your face and the surprise that you actually got a reaction out of him.

“I don’t think I do. Why is it different?” You don’t back down walking into his space and looking up at him — damn him for being so tall. If he’s going to act like being hit on (which didn’t really happen, bless his heart) is such a problem for him he has to tell you why. For selfish reasons, you hope it’s because he likes you. “Tell me.”

Miguel looks down at you, his eyes boring into yours in a way that makes your next breath stutter. They’re still guarded but less so than before, and the sliver of emotion he lets through when he’s with you, grows the tiniest bit to show hesitation and nerves. The easy smile you were sporting falters, and your lips drop open slightly when you realize how close your faces are. When did Miguel lean so close to you? Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, and you panic.

“Or don’t.” You back down, shaking your head as you wonder if this was a good idea after all. You decide to lie through your nerves. “I’m just teasing you.”

As you begin to turn your face to put some space between you, Miguel’s hand goes up to your cheek to keep your gaze on him. “They’re not nicknames. I’ve been calling you endearments.” He murmurs, voice low as he looks down at you. “Just like you.”

“You mean, you’ve been flirting with me?” You ask breathlessly, your mind trying to compute what the man in front of you —who you never imagined liking you back— is saying. When he nods in an almost reluctant confession, you roll your eyes. “Then that’s the worst flirt—”

You’re cut short by Miguel’s lips pressing onto yours, effectively shutting you up with a world altering brush of lips. Then as if that wasn’t clear enough for you, he murmurs Shut up before leaning in and kissing you again, a real kiss this time. His hand on your cheek goes to the back of your head and your sighs are exchanged into each other’s mouths when they leave you in a rush. You’re surprised to find the same painful yearning you’ve been harboring for months in Miguel. It’s obvious in the way he deepens the kiss, the way he gathers you into his arms and pulls you closer, in the way his tongue tastes your mouth and leaves you dizzy.

“You were jealous then.” You say when you part momentarily, brushing the tip of your nose against Miguel’s.

“Yes.” Miguel confesses begrudgingly, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“A waste of time.” You shake your head fondly, looking at him with a healthy dose of unrestrained adoration and attraction. “The guy assumed you were my boyfriend, and you know why?”

Miguel kisses the corner of your mouth and lingers there like he doesn’t want to part. His affection is hitting your system like a shot of adrenaline to the chest, you feel drunk on it. “Dime.”

“I couldn’t stop talking about you.” You smile, leaning in to kiss him again. “I think half the audience in my live already guessed I like you.”

“Half the society too.” Lyla pops up next to you, holding up a phone and taking a selfie with you. “Some of which are coming to your lab right now, so…”

You take a step back from Miguel, beaming at the conflicted look on his face. “Do you mind if I file my report here? I assume you’re not busy.”

“Wouldn’t matter if I was, princesa.” Is all he says before he pulls up some feed on his computers, getting ready to brief the Spider People on a new mission. You move to sit on the desk next to him, and smile when his hand squeezes your thigh affectionately.

—-

Let me know if you liked this! Reblogs are appreciated 🥹 motivate an unmotivated writer ✨

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pulguita - ok taken literally it's a flea, but it's an endearment like lovebug for those who are short hence why miguel uses it.

dime - tell me

princesa - princess

—-

#miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

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kaleldobrev · 6 months

Text

Hauled Up

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam recruits you to try and convince Dean to stop hauling up in his room

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Mutual pining & Fluff

Authors Note: Takes place in season 14 | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As you were watching some Netflix, there was a hefty knock on your bedroom door. You had hoped that it was Dean who was knocking as you hadn't seen him in pretty much a few weeks since he had gotten back, but you knew that was a long shot. "Come in!" You called out, pausing the program that you were watching.

About two seconds later, Sam appeared, and he looked insanely drained and tired; something that's been pretty much normal for him over the last few weeks. Between helping the hunters who had come from the Apocalypse World and trying to find any information on where Dean/Michael could have been. Thankfully with Dean back, the only thing really draining him now was making sure the "newbies" knew how to handle certain cases on their own or through team-ups.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" Sam asked, his voice sounding a little hesitant.

"Sure, what is it?" You asked. It could be a numerous amount of things as while Dean was gone, you had became Sam's right hand, assisting him with the other hunters. You were either helping to find cases, going on team-ups, cooking giant meals for everyone that could last days, or bandaging people up when they came back from a hunt.

"I need you to try and get Dean out from his room. He's been hauled up there for weeks. It's not good for him," Sam said, sighing a little.

"I think he just wants to be alone Sam. I mean, I don't really blame him. He was gone for weeks, and then when he came back, he came back to a place full of people that he doesn't know, not just us," you stated. You couldn't imagine what Dean went through while Michael was possessing him doing God Know's What. As much as you didn't mind having the other hunter's here, you knew that with these other hunters here, Dean couldn't really be himself even if he wanted to be. "Why can't you try and get him out?"

"I think you're the only person that might be able to," Sam stated.

"And why do you think I'd be able to convince him?" You questioned, raising a brow.

Sam looked at you, giving you one of those 'you know exactly why' look. It wasn't a secret that you and Dean had feelings for each other, and have had these feelings for each other for the past couple of years. It was one of those things that even though neither one of you had directly said to each other that you have these feelings; it was kind of a known fact how the two of you felt about each other.

You sighed. "I can try."

Walking into the kitchen, you had decided that one of the things that you were going to do in order to try and convince Dean to come out of his room was bring apple pie as a kind of offering to him.

As you gathered the ingredients, one of the hunters from the Apocalypse World walked into the kitchen with a big smile on their face. "You making apple pie Y/N?" He asked, rubbing his hands together.

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm making a pie for Dean," you said, starting to chop up the apples.

The man sat down at the counter, and even though you didn't directly look up at him, you could have sworn that he rolled his eyes at your response. As much as you had wanted to comment, you decided to ignore it. "Anything that I can help you with?" You asked.

"Hoping you can make this pie for me instead of Dean," he stated. Instead of the eyeroll like he had done before it was a wink; and it took all you could not to roll your own eyes.

"I remember you saying how much you hated apple pie," you stated, putting the apples into a bowl of cinnamon sugar.

"But I've never had your apple pie Sweetheart," he said, winking again.

This time, you had decided to say something, as you did not like when someone other than Dean had called you Sweetheart. "It's Y/N, not Sweetheart."

"It's just a nickname Y/N," he said. "Lighten up."

Before you could comment any further, you heard someone clear their throat in the doorway; and when the two of you looked up, looking into that direction, it was Sam with a clipboard in his hand. "Jones, shouldn't you be getting ready for your wendigo hunt with Xander?"

Jones looked at Sam for a moment, before looking at you. "Can't wait to eat this when I get back," he winked, getting up from his spot at the counter and making his way out of the kitchen.

As soon as Jones was out of the earshot, Sam sat down on the same stool that Jones was sitting at a few seconds before. "I could have handled that myself you know," you stated, giving the piecrust a gentle coating of butter to make sure that it didn't completely burn in the oven.

"I know, I'm sorry," Sam said, slightly sighing. "Gonna try bribery?" He asked, pointing to the pie.

"I call it motivation," you shrugged.

With the pie finally done, you placed it onto a tray along with two forks and a pint of vanilla ice cream. You doubted you'd be able to convince Dean to come out of his room, but maybe you can convince him to at least share some of the apple pie that you had made for him with you so he could at least have some kind of social interaction.

Lifting up the tray, you took a deep breath and made your way out of the kitchen, heading to Dean's room.

Upon coming up to his door, it was shut like it has been the last several weeks, the sounds of his television blasting as he watched a horror movie (which sounded remotely like the All Saint's Day series to you, as you thought you could vaguely hear Hatchet Man's voice).

Knocking on the door, you heard Dean sigh loudly and pause the television. "Fuck off," he said, his voice annoyed.

"I don't really want to eat this apple pie by myself," you said, your voice a little low.

You heard Dean get up from his bed, slightly sighing. A few seconds later, his door opened and he looked down at you as you held the tray in your hands. "Sam put you up to this?" He asked.

"He asked me to try and convince you to come out of your room. But, I know I wouldn't be able to convince you, so, I decided to make some apple pie for us to share together instead," you smiled.

Dean eyed you and the pie for a moment before stepping to the side. "I'm watching All Saint's Day two," he said.

"Perfect," you said, stepping inside his room.

"Thanks for trying not to convince me," Dean said, between bites. "You're the only one I feel like gets it." He knew that you were the only person to get it, as you and him always seemed to be on similar wavelengths.

"I might not necessarily know what you went through but...I just know for me, if I came back to a Bunker full of strangers, I'd want to haul up in my room too," you said, wiping your mouth.

"You outdid yourself this time with the pie," he commented.

"It's how I always make it," you said.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know tastes...better than usual."

"Probably because you haven't had it in a while," you stated.

"Probably," he agreed.

"I hope you enjoyed your pie," you smiled, grabbing the tray; no more pie or ice cream in sight.

"I did, thanks," Dean said, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you make your way to his bedroom door. "You didn't have to make it for me by the way. I know you've been busy with all the other hunters."

"Dean, I wanted to," you began, walking back to the bed where he was and placed the tray of empty dishes next to him. "Besides, I'll never be too busy for you," you stated, taking his hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You mean a lot to me Dean, you know that," you added.

The feeling of your hand in his was one that he longed for these past couple of weeks, but he didn't necessarily know how to ask for it. "You mean a lot to me too," he stated. More than you'll ever realize, he wanted to add. He took your other hand in his as he stood up from his spot on the bed gently looking down at you.

"Want to help me with the dishes and then we can come back in here and do something?" You asked him. "We can either watch something or just go to sleep; up to you," you softly smiled.

"I'd like for us to take a drive together. Feel like Baby's been neglected these past few months I've been away," he grinned; a brief chuckle leaving his lips.

"I'd like that," you smiled.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @livingordeadwhoknows @writinginfear @Roskar16 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @taraswifes @zepskies @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @frozenhuntress67 @coldspoons @androah If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

#Dean Winchester x you #Dean Winchester x reader #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x reader #dean x you #reader insert #female reader

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demonpiratehuntress · 7 months

Text

the best gift is you

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

Summary - You're having an incredibly difficult time finding an appropriate birthday present for Zoro.

Warnings - none, i think? I just wrote this right after hosting a soccer festival for an orphanage at my club, so I'm pretty much dead but wanted to get something out for my favourite Straw Hat's birthday <3 please excuse any errors, and happy birthday Zoro <3 <3 <3

"Usopp! Come with me."

You were just dragging the confused and slightly startled sharpshooter - because why did you want him to go shopping with you? - across the deck when you heard your boyfriend call out to you.

"Where are you going?"

You froze, having not expected him to be up from his nap so soon, "Um, grocery shopping?"

He frowned, "I can go with you."

"No!" You said quickly, then backtracked when you noticed how he became even more confused - and slightly hurt. "I mean, sorry babe but I really need Usopp's help with this specific trip."

This only confused the swordsman more, but before he could argue you were pulling the blabbering, protesting Usopp off the ship and into the small town. You could explain later, and make it up with the present, because you wanted this to be a surprise.

Zoro was left more puzzled than ever, wondering why you didn't even want him to go with for protection. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, so he guessed you must have your reasons. Then it hit him.

Oh...no.

"You two fighting or something?" Sanji asked from above.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Was Zoro's snarky response, coupled with an annoyed eyeroll. Sanji scoffed, but even he knew better than to further antagonise the already upset swordsman.

A few hours later...

"Ugh! Why is this so hard?!"

Your frustrated protest alarmed your crewmate, who had been eyeing a pair of sniper goggles at a nearby stand. You were practically pulling your hair out, on the verge of hot, angry tears, and your bottom lip was trembling.

"I can't go back without one!"

"You still haven't told me exactly what we're looking for," Usopp reminded you.

"Something Zoro would like," you sighed, "Or need. But there's nothing here. And it's almost dark out."

"Can't you just find something at the next island?"

"No! It has to be today, it has to..." You trailed off, biting your lip and trying your hardest to hold back tears.

"Why?"

"I...Because it has to."

You'd spent the last few hours scouring every shop on this island, but you had no idea what to get your boyfriend. He already had everything he needed, and there was nothing he wanted to your knowledge, so he was pretty difficult to shop for. He wasn't a typical boyfriend, that much you knew, so matching chains or charms wouldn't be appropriate. It was bugging you so much that you wanted to cry.

"Let's get back to the ship."

You took off before Usopp could question you, so he just followed without a word. Your behaviour baffled him, and slightly worried him, but he wasn't going to press any more if you didn't want to tell him. When you both got back to the ship, the green-haired swordsman was anxiously pacing the deck - the first time Usopp had seen him this nervous. The first time any of them - minus you - had seen him this nervous. But when you boarded, he breathed a sigh of relief.

His relief quickly morphed into concern when he noticed your eyes glistening with tears, and within seconds he was in front of you, hands gripping your forearms gently.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," you choked out, the tears free-falling. "I couldn't find anything. I looked everywhere. I looked so hard. I don't know...I didn't...I'm sorry..." You tried to wipe your tears away, but he beat you to it.

Usopp was long gone, not sticking around to see yours and Zoro's inevitable affection - the rest of the crew seemed allergic to your displays. So Zoro pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He reached up with one hand to brush the tears falling away, his expression softening.

"Hey," he spoke softly, "Look at me." He continued only once you met his gaze, "I don't need anything. I don't want anything. You are enough, okay? More than enough, actually. You don't need to get me anything, because you've already given me the greatest gift in the world. You." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a few seconds.

A soft blush crossed your cheeks, the disappointment in you slowly deflating until it was nothing more than an afterthought. You sniffled as you smiled up at him, your body filling with warmth at his words - and at the look of absolute love and adoration he was blessing you with right now.

"I love you. You are all that I want, and all that I need. Don't ever apologise for something as silly as a birthday gift."

Before you could protest, his lips were on yours and he was locking you in the most loving, passionate kiss he had ever given you. He was trying to convey his message through the kiss, proving that you were all he craved. Proving that you were his favourite gift of all.

"I love you too," you smiled even more when he pulled away to let you breathe - ironically you were breathless.

"Good, now can we please go and sleep?"

You laughed, allowing him to pick you up and carry you off to bed.

"Whatever the birthday boy wants."

"Whatever I want, huh?"

"I thought you wanted to sleep!"

"...Changed my mind."

#one piece live action #opla #opla zoro #zoro x reader #opla x reader #zoro x you #opla zoro x reader #roronoa zoro

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jessybarnes · 9 months

Text

Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation.

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.

These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy.

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly.

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with.

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically.

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.”

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table.

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer.

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes.

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I … well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again.

“I’m. Fine."

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them.

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence.

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings.

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves.

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep.

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted.

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door.

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet.

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you.

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit.

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features.

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks.

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes.

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you.

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing.

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were.

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship.

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm.

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued.

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor.

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly.

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep.

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”

The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”

Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -

“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.

Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.

“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.

Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.

“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.

Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.

The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.

Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement.

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.

But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.

“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.

“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again.

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

#j snow writes #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean smut #dean angst #dean fluff #supernatural smut #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

Note

AAAAAAAAA PEETA ENEMIES TO OOVERS AND THE “I really don’t like you” DIALOUGE OH MY LORDT IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH IM SO EXCITED AKRJSKFNMFH

I LOVE THIS!!

"Did Effie give you the speech too?" Peeta asks as he enters the back of the train, his presence tugging an eyeroll from me and I mentally hit myself for not hiding in the bathroom instead- somewhere where he can't he can't be obnoxiously nice to me.

"About behaving?" I ask him, scooting over so he can sit next to me on the couch, folding my legs up into my chest as I hug them. "Yes."

"She told me I'm supposed to try to convince you to like me." Peeta says with a small smile and blushed cheeks and it almost makes me smile but I remember that I promised myself to choose to be annoyed by him so I would not inevitably fall in love with him.

But it's so damn hard.

"That's easier said than done." I scoff, looking out the window at all of the colored trees, trying to not make eye contact with him, knowing better than that and knowing that a blush would immediately rise up my neck and my cheeks would heat up.

"C'mon." He nudges me, electricity sparking under his touch and it sends goosebumps up my arm and down my spine. "I bet, deep down, you tolerate me more than you think." I give him a deadpanned look and a scoff, lying through my teeth with a shake of my head.

"I really don't like you." I mutter, glaring at him through my lashes as he laughs, shaking his head at my blatant lie.

"And I really don't believe you." He sighs, stretching his arm out on the couch behind me, leaning towards me a bit with a simple pat on my shoulder. "This whole tour will go ten times smoother if you just let go a bit."

"I just really don't want to be here." I breathe sincerely, finally meeting my gaze and I allow myself to slip into him for a moment, leaning into the way that his hand rests on my shoulder, soothingly rubbing circles into my skin.

"And it's not my fault that you are." His voice is stern and an example of his frustration towards my faux dislike towards him and I give him a soft smile, nodding my head in acknowledgment. Maybe I'll go easy on him this time. "I don't want to be here either."

"I know." I reach up to pat his hand that's sitting on my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, I get it." He shrugs and I laugh, feeling frustrated but also comforted tears rise to my eyes but I'm quick to blink them away.

"You're too nice." I scoff, watching him make his way to his feet, prepared to walk out of the room but he turns to me at the last second and he sends me a wink.

"Eh, it balances out your attitude."

"Peeta!"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres

#peeta #peeta mellark #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x reader #hunger games #hunger games fic

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osaemu · 7 months

Text

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.

contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.

author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll

"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."

your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."

on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.

after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.

and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.

the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.

"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"

you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.

your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."

you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head.

you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still.

satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.

"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"

you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"

every time. every single time.

"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."

"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."

"fuck you."

if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?

you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy?

you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.

right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?

you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either.

just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.

some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.

so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."

"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline.

"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."

"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"

the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.

"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"

you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.

whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.

"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.

"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"

"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."

"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"

you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."

"yeah, well, you showed up."

"you coulda slammed the door in my face."

"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"

"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.

"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.

"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.

you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"

"waiting."

"for what?"

"for you to beg."

your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.

"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."

satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."

again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."

"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up.

"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."

you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?"

you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.

at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.

when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you.

satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."

you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.

"yeah, same time tomorrow?"

"anythin' for you."

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willalove75 · 9 months

Note

Keeley and Rebecca would gossip at lunch about Roy and Reader . Especially after seeing them workout together , reader has tattoos . Maybe they go on a double date or with Jack ? Some banter , teasing . Rebecca KNOWS what gets reader going 😳🔥

Yessss!! Love this request so much! Sorry I took literally FOREVER to get to it💕

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI

Tags: flirty, teasing

A/n: Holy shit it's been a MINUTE since I've done a Rebecca fic! I'm going to be trying to do a better job at responding to the Rebecca requests that have been in my inbox for months. I'm so sorry it's taken so long to get through them!

Rebecca and Keeley walk through the halls of AFC Richmond together as they're on their way to lunch. They make their way through the locker room in search of you. Rebecca knocks on Ted's office door and walks in.

"Well howdy boss! Keeley! What are you two rascals up to?"

"Good afternoon Ted." Rebecca says. "Have you seen y/n? I thought she would be in here."

"Ah, I think I saw her and Roy head into the gym a little while ago."

"Of course that's where they are." Keeley says with a playful eyeroll.

The duo head to the gym and lo and behold, there you were. You were doing bench presses and Roy was your spotter.

Rebecca's breath hitches in her chest when she sees you. Her eyes rake over your body, your legs spread on either side of the bench, the little arch in your back, the tight white tank top you had on - you must have pulled your work shirt off. She was practically drooling over the way your muscles flexed when you brought the bar down to your chest and pushed it back up. The tattoos covering your arms were glistening with a thin layer of sweat and it made her heart skip a beat. You didn't even know she was standing there and you were already driving her crazy. It was baffling to Rebecca that someone had such an effect on her.

"Hi babe!" Keeley says as she trots over to Roy and kisses him on the cheek.

As you bring the bar back down to your chest you hear Keeley and look over and see Rebecca practically gawking at you. You flash her a quick smirk before Roy brings you back to reality.

"You're not done yet." He growls. "Four more. For every second you stare at her I'm adding two more."

You quickly refocus and bang out the last four reps before Roy helps you rerack the bar. Using it as leverage, you pull yourself up into a sitting position and look back over at Rebecca who's strutting her way over to you.

"Hey babe." You say.

"Hello my love." She says, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Well we were going to invite you to lunch, but it looks like you're rather preoccupied at the moment." Rebecca says.

You look over at Roy who lets out a low growl letting you know he's not finished kicking your ass yet.

"I'm sorry baby, but it looks like Oscar the Grouch here isn't done torturing me just yet."

"You asked for this." He deadpans.

"It's okay my love, we'll get lunch another time." She says.

"Okay lets go! I'm so hungry I could fuck a horse!" Keeley says.

You, Rebecca, and Roy all look at Keeley.

"Don't you mean 'eat a horse?'" You ask.

"Nope. Bye babe!" She says before kissing Roy and heading towards the door. "Lets go Rebecca!"

You shake your head at her and Rebecca looks down at you. Looking up at her like this does things to you and she knows it. She tries to do it as often as she can and it drives you wild. She bends forward and subtly squeezes her breasts together so you get the best view of her cleavage since you can see right down the front of her shirt. You can feel your cheeks turn red and it's not from working out. Rebecca cups under your chin and pulls you in for a kiss.

When she pulls away and you open your eyes you're met with a beautiful pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you. Your heart stutters in your chest and she gives you a little smirk.

"I'll see you later, love." Is all she says before turning around and walking away. She sways her hips a little as she walks away and you develop an ache between your legs.

After she leaves you drag your hands down your face and groan.

"That woman will be the death of me."

Roy snickers at you and you shoot him a look.

"You chose that punishment. I have no sympathy. Lets go, you have two more sets to finish and then I'm throwing you in the ice tub." You groan in protest. "After that little, whatever the fuck that was, you're gonna need it."

At lunch Rebecca and Keeley are seated at a table and they go over the menu after placing their drink orders. Rebecca is chewing on her bottom lip as she looks over the menu and Keeley giggles at her.

"What?" Rebecca asks.

"You."

"What about me?"

"She really got you flustered by just existing, didn't she?" Rebecca rolls her eyes at Keeley and looks back at the menu. "Oh come on! I saw the way you were looking at her and how you practically eye fucked her in front of the entire team!"

"Keeley Jones! I did no such thing!"

"Oh yes you did and you know it!"

"I wasn't eye fucking her, just, playfully flirting."

"Yeah, okay. Anyway, we should go on a double date, we haven't done that in ages!"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Friday night?"

"Perfect."

Friday night rolls around and you and Rebecca and dressed and off to your double date with Roy and Keeley. Her driver drops you off at the restaurant and Keeley and Roy pull up right after you. After exchanging hello's the four of you head inside and are lead to your table. Drinks and orders are placed and the conversation starts to pick up.

"So how do you think the boys are going to do at next weeks match?" Rebecca asks Roy.

"They better kick their fucking asses." He says.

"How's Isaac's injury?" Keeley asks you.

"He should be fine to play next week. Luckily he didn't tear anything in his knee so I worked on him throughout the week to try and strengthen it so he should be good to go." You say.

"Well that's a relief." Rebecca says.

You go to speak but your words die on your lips when you feel a foot drag up your leg. Looking across the table at Rebecca, she's resting her chin in her hand and looking at you as if she's not teasing the shit out of you right now.

"Are you okay, love?" She asks.

"Yup. All good." You say as you take a sip of your drink.

Her foot climbs higher and pushes your legs apart a little and you try to not choke on your drink. Thank god Roy and Keeley started talking about something else so they don't see you struggling.

The waitress comes over with your food and you feel Rebecca's foot pull away and a wave of relief washes over you. The four of you start eating and just as you're about to take a bite her foot begins stroking your leg again. Looking at Rebecca she has a smirk on her face and you watch as she slowly brings her fork to her mouth and wraps her lips around it before pulling it away. You take a sip of water when you feel your face flushing. This woman can breathe in your direction and immediately fluster you.

"So how has working out with Roy been?" Keeley asks you,

"It's been really good, he's been kicking my ass."

"You needed it." He says.

"Okay, listen-"

"That wasn't a question."

"Such a prick." You laugh.

"Why have you been working out so much, love?" Rebecca asks.

"I don't know, I like it. Especially since I have full access to a gym at work I mean, why not?"

"You have certainly gotten stronger over the last few weeks." She says as she reaches across the table and squeezes your bicep. She's subtle about it but you can feel her drag her nails across your skin as she pulls away.

"Thanks." You sputter and try to cover it with a sip of your drink.

Throughout dinner Rebecca keeps catching your eye, maintaining eye contact when she takes a bite of her food, watching you squirm when her foot grazes the inside of your thigh. She drives you crazy the entire night.

The waitress brings out dessert and Rebecca maintains eye contact with you once more as she takes a scoop of her dessert and eats it.

"Here." She says. "Try it."

Rebecca picks up a spoonful and reaches across the table and feeds you. She slips the spoon between your lips painfully slow and pulls it out at the same pace, not once breaking eye contact. You let out a small moan and try to play it off as if you're moaning about the dessert. Keeley and Roy don't seem to notice but Rebecca's eyes flash with lust for a moment.

She reaches across the table again and drags her thumb across your bottom lip, wiping away some of the dessert left behind.

By the end of the night you're squirming, the heat between your legs is damn near unbearable and she knows it.

You say your goodbyes to Keeley and Roy and climb into the car. Rebecca pushes the button to pull up the privacy divider between the front and back seats of the car and looks at you with lust in her eyes. You try and make a move but she stops you pinning you back against the seat. A pathetic moan leaves your lips and she smirks.

"What's the matter, love?" She says as her lips ghost the shell of your ear.

"Rebecca." You pant.

"Yes love?" She asks before placing soft, open mouthed kisses on your neck. "What's the matter? Got you all worked up?"

"Yes." You groan.

"So easy to fluster."

"Please."

Rebecca cups your core and presses her fingers against your soaked panties.

"All this for me?" You nod your head.

She pulls her hand away and you whine.

"Don't worry my love, when we get home I'll have you whining for all of the best reasons."

#willalove75 #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton #rebecca welton x reader #wlw fanfic #rebecca welton fanfic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso

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slashingdisneypasta · 7 months

Text

Erik Destler x HaplessOperaHouseManager!Reader || Excerpt

Plot: You've known about Erik for years- you even know about his home. You don't do anything about him, because... well you wouldn't want to be cruel and put him on the streets. But good god does he not make your kindness easy.

Here you get a stress nosebleed because of him and he takes a moment from the murder and the dramatics to help you out.

Warnings: Nosebleed.

Tagging: @marinerainbow , @masqueradeball , @miss_understood , and @thecourtofgraywaves .

You're just in the middle of yelling at him, chucking all your incident records down on top of his written music to demonstrate just how ridiculously thick the pile is because of his bi-regular murderous outbursts and calling the 'opera ghost' an absolute twat- when you feel a trickling under your nose, on your top lip.

You stop and touch your finger to it. When you bring your hand away and theirs blood, you groan. Aghhh! Of bloody course! Now you're getting nosebleeds!? Goddamni-

Erik emerges from where he was cooped up in a dark corner, hidden from you even in his little sewer home, and before you know it he's completely invaded your space; ignoring or perhaps not giving a damn about your personal comfort. Probably not giving a damn. "What- "

You feel his fingers search your pockets (completely indecent. You suppose you should have expected he would be that way though; coarse and brash. Living in the walls for years will do that to a man), and when he doesn't seem to find what he was looking for he sighs in frustration and then digs into his own coat pockets. Out comes a handkerchief and he twists and folds it quite gracefully (irritatingly gracefully) into a tissue, before forcefully holding your bloody fingers away from your body by the wrist and tipping your head back with his handkerchief-holding hand. "Hold still, Y/N... "

You do as you're told, but you also give him a frustrated, stern look. "Excuse me- " With an eyeroll, Erik carefully holds the fabric up to your nose: laser focused on the blood under nose even in the dim lighting from candles. "... What the hell are you doing?"

You should be more concerned about a man being this close to you- touching you so intimately with gentle but firm hands- but its Erik. So you're not too concerned, for whatever reason. Perhaps because he's not a man, he's an irritation, honestly.

You feel mildly comfortable with him like this. You could call it a work break- as if you got taken hostage by the opera ghost so whoops, you couldn't do any work for a nice block of time.

Yeah, he grabbed me and I couldn't move for 10 minutes. That paperwork got lost in the struggle, I'm afraid- Oh, no, I'm fine. Back to work I suppose!

"I think you might find this is helping... " He mutters, being in such close quarters with you that he doesn't have to speak at full volume, gently pressing the handkerchief against your nose.

"You caused this, you know??"

His eyes flash up from what he's doing, to yours, and you would be startled if you weren't so used to him. Him an his intensity all the time; sudden movements and deep eye contact. You've allowed him to stay in this opera house for years despite the trouble he causes you, because first of all you know he would never leave even if you tried to evict and him and second of all- where would he go, anyway?? You certainly wouldn't put a man out on the streets, even one like Erik.

He takes a deep breath, calming himself. "... I don't mean to hurt you, Y/N."

Rolling your eyes upwards, even as your expression softens the tiniest bit, you sigh. Yes, that's nice, but he knows very well his bullshit effects you so the sentiment is not particularly practical. And in your life, your work which is your life really, the practical is what really matters. "Well you do a good job of it."

"-I mean to hurt everyone else."

Sigh. Here we go. "Yes I know Erik."

"But I-..." Another deep breath. He's not looking you in the eye any longer, rather your nose and his handkerchief, but you're looking at him- and you see his jaw tighten; thinking hard and forcing himself to say things. Non-terrible things. "I regret it if this is truly my fault."

"... it is."

"Then I regret it."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I regret."

"Are you saying that you're sorry??... " You're mind is boggled at the thought of Erik apologising for his actions- but that is certainly how it sounds.

Immediately he tells you 'no, not at all'... before changing his mind a second later. "Perhaps, a small part, towards you. This. I don't intend to-... You've been reasonable, as far as people go. Quite-- reasonable. And I... I do not want my actions to have caused you harm."

You should let that be it. You should let him escape this without abandoning his strict sense of dignity- but you can't help yourself. "-so you're saying sorry??" You insist, tilting your head clockwise ever-so-slightly; curious like a cat.

A deep, frustrated sigh. "I don't believe I said that, but if that's how you wish to interpret my words... " He shrugs nonchalantly, trying to just focus on folding the handkerchief again and pressing a clean part to your nose again. "enjoy."

Rolling your eyes, you finally give a small smile. "Okay I will, Erik,.. "

#Erik Destler x Reader Excerpt #Erik Destler x Reader #Erik Destler #Erik Destler 1989 #Erik Destler 1989 x Reader #Excerpt #POTO 1989

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hier--soir · 1 year

Text

under the night | three

summary: what's dinner between two friends? + joel makes great parsnips pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, smut, oral [f recieving], protected sex, age gap [20ish years], disappearance, angst word count: 8k part two | series masterlist | main masterlist

Fungus.

“That’s not fucking funny, man,” Ellie stared at you, as you tried, and failed, to contain the grin spreading across your face.

You held your hands in the air in faux sheepishness, smirking. “Well,” you said triumphantly. “It’s worth 10 points, and it’s on a double word score square, so 20! Fungus is a winner, I say.” You grabbed the pencil and scribbled your score down, staring victoriously at the scrabble board on the platform between you.

Joel’s front porch was cramped as it was, just enough space for two chairs facing outward; but Ellie had determinedly wedged a small stool between the chairs for you to play on. Scrabble had been her idea, after she came across the old box at a friend’s house a few days prior. It had taken a few trial runs for her to fully get the hang of the rules, and on game four, she was really beginning to enjoy herself. Sitting out in the cool afternoon air three quarters of the way through winter, you were relieved you’d worn a thick beanie. It was crisp out, and after 2-hours of playing, the board had an icy layer of condensation settled on it.

“Sorry, kid,” you winked. “Gotta find a way to use that shit to my advantage somehow.” You took a long sip of your steaming coffee, leaning back in your chair to watch Ellie begin her turn. The girl was taking a painstaking amount of time trying to figure out the correct spelling of her next word, when she grew distracted from noticing Tommy wandering down the street with the newbie by his side. He gave the two of you a wave and sidled up to the bottom step of the porch.

“Kiddos,” he grinned fondly. You huffed lightly at the moniker, considering you were in your thirties yet being grouped in with a teenager. “Y’all met Lincoln yet?”

The man behind Tommy was short and slim, with a shaved head and an easy-going smile that never seemed to leave his face.

“I’m Ellie,” she said, eyes trained on her letters.

You introduced yourself with a polite nod, giving him your undivided attention to make up for Ellie’s lack-there-of.

“Mighty fine to meet you both." His voice was low and hoarse, in a way that sounded like he used to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, and now it surely hurt him to speak.

Tommy butted in quickly. “He came all the way here from Canada, so I thought I’d be hasty with introducing him to some friendly faces.”

“Ooh Canada,” Ellie gave a poor attempt at enthusiasm, and you tried not to laugh at how clearly the girl wanted to end the conversation and play her next word.

Tommy gave her an ungrateful eyeroll, and asked, “Joel in?”

As if by clockwork, the front door of the house opened and the man in question peered out curiously. When he spotted Tommy, he emerged fully, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Tommy grinned, reaching out to grip his brother’s hand quickly. Joel made eye contact with you ever so briefly and offered a small smile, before looking back to his brother.

“Doing a newbie tour?” he queried.

“Y’met Lincoln yet?” Ellie asked, to which he gave a quick nod.

“Please, call me Linc,” the man told them all, his gaze resting on your face for a second longer than the others’. “All my friends do.” You couldn’t tell if you’d imagined it, but you swore you heard a low scoff come from Joel.

“So you came all this way by yourself?” Ellie asked him, finally putting down her letters and giving the group her full attention. Her voice seemed to shine with a sort of curious respect.

Lincoln nodded, his face drooping somewhat. “Been alone for a long time now. My girls, they died a long time ago, in those first few months. By myself ever since.” You noticed Ellie shot a quick wary glance in Joel’s direction, who had turned his face away from the conversation to stare out into his neighbour’s front yard. Weird. “I try not to dwell on things though!” Lincoln said, that cheery smile returning.

You didn't offer up any kind of response, as you mulled over his words. His story wasn't so different from most of the people you knew, but you allowed a short moment of empathy for the stranger. You couldn't imagine the loss that would come from losing a child.

“Well,” Tommy broke the silence. “Let’s continue this tour.”

“I’ll head out with you, I gotta stop by and see Maria,” Joel started down the porch steps, and you tried not to stare at his back as he walked away from the house.

It had been almost two weeks since the night you and Joel had almost kissed, and since then the pair of you had never been alone. It wasn’t purposeful, at least on your part. But you were acutely aware that he would only appear in your presence when he knew there was going to be other people present.

When you thought back on that night, your heart would swell remembering the soft way he spoke to you; the care in his eyes. But it was directly followed by the memory of how you rejected his kiss. Your chest ached with longing at the thought of getting a do over.

The cycle of avoidance ended at last when he noticed you walking the streets by yourself one afternoon.

“Hey there,” he murmured, falling into step beside you. “Where you headed?”

“Just wandering around,” you replied slowly, staring at him in something akin to shock.

“Care for some company?”

“Well, who’d you have in mind?” you teased in an attempt to act casual, ignoring the quick thrum of your heart.

“This grumpy old Texan,” he chuckled. “He doesn’t get out much, but he’s great once you get to know him, I swear.”

You turned your head to grin at him. “Sounds like a riot, I’ll take him.”

The pair of you roamed aimlessly around town for an hour, talking and catching up. Your stomach filled with warmth; you had missed speaking to him. Missed the way your name sounded coming from his mouth.

“Y’know,” Joel began after a batch of silence. You had almost reached your house, and it seemed the walk was coming to a natural end. “I was wondering if you’d come to the house for dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” you said in surprise, stopping and staring at him. He ground to a halt a few steps ahead of you, and turned awkwardly. "You're asking me to dinner?"

"I am."

"Was this Ellie's idea?"

Joel rubbed his hands together in front of him. “No, uh,” he paused thoughtfully, not quite meeting your eye. “The kid's out tonight. It would… it would just be you and I.”

“I see,” you said, trying to read his expression.

“I understand if-“

"You've been avoiding me." His eyebrows twitched into a frown, and he licked the corner of his lip.

"Not on purpose," he said.

"You've been accidentally avoiding me?" you asked, knowing the wrinkle between your eyebrows was no doubt identical to his.

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me," he finally admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I felt like a fuckin' ass the other night. I overstepped-"

"Joel," you tried to interrupt but he shook his head, continuing.

"No, you needed support, and it wasn't the time or place for that shit, I shouldn't have.... I shouldn't have."

Your heart beat wildly as he spoke. Arms wrapping around yourself to protect from the cool wind, you nodded slowly.

"I appreciate that."

The pair of you were silent for a beat, just watching each other. Joel's eyes seemed to roam over your entire face, and then downward. He stared fondly at your frame wrapped up in his old black jacket, and then said, "Let me cook us dinner."

“That sounds lovely. I’ll be there, Joel.”

His eyes lit up softly, and sweet crow’s feet appeared beside them as he smiled at you.

“It’s just dinner,” you mumbled to yourself in frustration, willing your feet to move. Your legs were locked as you stood on the road, staring at Joel’s front door. “It’s dinner, you love dinner.”

Taking a deep breath, you propelled yourself forward and rapped your knuckles sharply against the door. Your skin was hot underneath the layers of clothes you wore.

When it swung open, relief washed over you like cold water, and you were delighted to see Joel standing there. Damp hair slicked back, with a clean bottle green shirt hugging his body. Most times you saw him he'd be dressed in the same old clothes, with dirt and grime smeared across his skin from long days of work. The difference was stark, and it made your throat feel tight. So fucking handsome.

He said your name simply, staring you down.

“Joel,” you imitated his tone, holding back a laugh at the odd greeting. “Hope you remembered inviting me over.”

He rolled his eyes, and you swore you saw a faint flush rise in his cheeks. Clearly, he’d been expecting you; that much could be told by his appearance, and by how clean the house was when you stepped inside.

The cushions on the couch were fluffed and placed neatly, rather than haphazardly like normal. It even looked like he’d dusted the bookshelves.

“Something smells delicious,” you inhaled deeply, turning to see him wringing his hands nervously. He nodded his head towards the kitchen, encouraging you to follow him.

“It’s almost done, just needs some finishing touches.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Rabbit.”

You enjoyed the smells of roasting meat as he worked in the kitchen. He piled the food onto two plates with careful precision, before picking them up and leading you to the table. With a swell in your chest, you saw that he’d already set two places with cutlery and glassware. Seeing this side of him, this domesticity, was almost unnerving. It was like a trapdoor had been opened, and he’d ushered you inside quickly, exposing a secret, soft, part of his personality. You felt privileged to have it bared to you.

“This looks lovely, Joel, thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he replied brusquely.

“Well, I will anyway,” you retorted. “This looks better than anything I could ever cook.” You dug in eagerly, and an involuntary moan slipped past your lips as the flavour of the rabbit hit your tastebuds for the first time.

While you ate, you took the time to notice more details of his home. It wasn’t very cluttered, but small sentimental items were placed around. It felt so intimate to be there. You’d been in the house before, but it had always been brief. A pause in the kitchen while Ellie grabbed her bag from the bungalow, or a quick rifle through the pantry for a tea bag before you returned to the porch. Being able to sit, and take it all in, felt so good.

You discussed his patrols, your work at the stables. He asked if you'd made anymore friends, and smiled when you told him Ellie was your favourite person in Jackson. The conversation was light, and non-committal. Where you both avoided chit chat with everyone else in town, it seemed to be all you could do for that first hour in each other’s company.

And amidst it all, the silent tension between you seemed to have spiked again. All your shy, private interactions around Jackson for the past few months. All the smiles, and hushed laughs, and eyerolls. All the times you’d shamefully admired his looks, his strong hands. The almost kiss and the conversation from earlier danced around your mind while he spoke to you. Was tonight the night it all came to a head?

“So,” he said. “How was the rest of your day? After your walk, I mean.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “To be honest, I was just waiting around the house before I could come over here.”

“You could’ve come earlier,” he said.

“And crash your spring-cleaning session?” you scoffed teasingly. “I couldn’t possibly.”

That flush returned to his cheeks, and he took a quick sip from his glass of water. “No shame in keeping a clean house.”

“No shame at all,” you murmured with a smirk, knowing damn well you and Cal’s house looked like a pair of wild animals lived in it. Clothes strewn haphazardly around; dirty mugs littered across the kitchen counter.

You ate in silence for a while after that. The food was incredible. A medley of herbs and spices speckled the tender meat, and he'd glazed parsnips in honey and thyme. They were sweet and sticky and reminded you of something your mom made when you were a kid. You savoured every single bite.

Unable to help it, your eyes fell closed and you hummed happily, sinking back into the chair. Cutlery clinking against a plate made you look up, and you found Joel with an empty plate, watching you with a fond expression.

“What?” you reddened, placing your knife and fork carefully onto your now sparkling clean plate.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “It’s nice to… to see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Joel seemed to struggle for the words, scratching his beard absentmindedly. “… happy. It’s nice to see you smilin’.” His eyes flicked ever-so-slightly down, and you knew he was looking at the scar on your cheek.

“Oh,” you whispered, mouth slightly ajar with surprise. You went to say something, anything, but he interrupted quickly, chair scraping against the hardwood floors as he stood up.

“Are you finished?” He took your plate before you could answer, and stalked into the kitchen.

As you rose to follow him you flinched at the sound of metal clattering against the ground. Joel was crouched in the kitchen, picking up a knife from the floor. He grunted with the effort, knees cracking sharply as he straightened up.

“I feel like such an old man sometimes,” he grumbled, tossing the cutlery into the sink.

You sidled up beside him and rested your palms against the counter, gazing at the side of his expressionless face.

“Well, how about I wash, and you dry. Sound good old man?” you winked, using his own words against him. He cracked a half smile and looked over to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “Sounds good.”

You worked in a comfortable quiet, cleaning the dishes and tidying up his kitchen. For a minute, you began to worry that maybe the two of you had finally run out of mindless topics to entertain yourselves with. Your stomach twisted faintly at the thought of the night coming to an end so quickly.

But in the instant that the kitchen was restored to its natural order, Joel squashed down that feeling.

“Stay for a whiskey?” he offered, and you revelled in what you thought was hope in his tone. Your mind flashed back to that night weeks before, when you’d been desperate for him not to leave your home. You could stay a bit longer if you want to.

“How about a wine?” you smiled bashfully.

“Let’s see what I got.”

He disappeared up the stairs and returned a few minutes later holding a dusty bottle of red wine up in the air. You let out a low whistle, nodding in approval. Joel removed the cork with ease, and soon enough you were reclining beside each other on his couch, enjoying the deep fermented berry flavours of the wine. He’d started a small fire in the hearth, and it crackled quietly, offsetting the awkward tension permeating between you. You could feel sweat dampening your palms, but you pushed down the feelings of nervousness, hoping he wasn’t noticing the effect this prolonged alone time with him was having on you.

“I can’t remember the last time I drank good wine,” you sighed wistfully, licking your lips greedily. You heard him clear his throat, and caught him staring at your mouth with dark eyes.

“Been a while for me too,” he admitted, eyes lifting to meet your gaze. “Stick with liquor most of the time. But this… this is definitely nice.”

You hummed happily into your glass.

“You know,” he started. “What you were saying earlier, about just waiting around before coming over here… you could have, you know?”

“Could have what?”

“You could’ve come over,” he cleared his throat. “This place is… you’re always… you’re welcome here.”

“Well, that’s sweet and all, but I wouldn’t want to impose on you or Ellie.”

“Ellie adores you,” he stated firmly.

Your mouth moved without your permission, forming the words too quickly for your brain to register. “And you?”

He frowned slightly, “And me?”

“I’m welcome here because Ellie adores me…” you trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the gap. Half a glass of wine, and it seemed you were more forward than you’d ever been with him. But the game of cat and mouse was getting old, and you figured maybe this was your chance to gain some clarity on the situation.

Dinner and wine between…two friends? What was this?

“I think you…” his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, before turning to face you front on. “I think you’re lovely.”

His big brown eyes shined with earnest, gazing endlessly into your own.

“What does that mean?” you pushed further, grip on your wine glass tightening. You couldn’t read his face. Those eyes seemed to darken, and he took a deep breath.

“It means you’re always welcome here.” He was talking in circles, and he seemed to realise it too, shutting his eyes and grimacing. “I’m no good at this,” he admitted with a humourless chuckle. “What I’m trying to say is that I like it... when you’re around. I like being near you.”

You could tell from how tight he gripped his glass, that it wasn’t an easy admission for him to make. Yet his voice was laced with sincerity.

He continued softly, “I don’t… talk to people, the way I talk to you. I didn’t think it was something I could do anymore. But it feels so… easy, with you. Easy to just be around you. It don’t make sense to me.”

You could see the weight of Joel’s honesty; how it manifested in his hunched shoulders. He was scared to say these things.

“I like being near you too,” you reciprocated, body instinctively shifting toward him. You were perched precariously, with your chest tilted forward, all your weight balancing on your right hand that gripped the sofa cushion in between you. “I was worried I made you think otherwise.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, eyes darting wildly across your face before his gaze settled solidly on your mouth. Intuitively, your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. “I like being near you,” he repeated slowly. “And… I gotta say, I’m nervous as hell to try my luck at kissin’ you again.”

Heat flared inside your stomach, and that was all you needed to push forward and press your lips against his.

Joel’s lips always looked chapped, but they were soft, and pushed eagerly against your own. For a moment, that was all it was. Your lips pressed gently against each other's, soft breaths rushing from your nose. He pulled back, and stared at you with a contemplative expression. Smiling shyly, your hand landed on his knee and squeezed it gently.

And then he placed his hand on your cheek, tilting your head ever so slightly to the side, and kissed you again.

You sighed as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, before eagerly pushing into your mouth. The taste of red wine and parsnips invaded your mouth, and you reached up to place a hand on the side of his neck. His thumb stroked your cheekbone softly, fingers drifting into the hair behind your ear, cradling your face. You could feel his pulse racing under the skin, and gasped wetly into the kiss as his free hand landed on your waist. Devastated to break the moment, you pulled back for a breath of air, scraping your teeth across his bottom lip, and nipping it gently.

Joel grunted, gripping your waist and pulling you across the couch so you were above him, hovering over his lap. While you took deep breaths, he pressed sweet kisses along your cheek, down your chin, and to the skin of your neck. He was insatiable, not taking his mouth off you for a second.

You trailed your hands through his dark hair, smiling at the soft groan that he let out in response to the sensation. You did it once, twice more, wanting to hear the noise again, but suddenly he pulled off from your skin. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he ran his fingers lightly along your clothed hips while staring up at you. His eyes were heavy with longing, lips wet from your kisses, and you were certain it was the most attractive he'd ever looked.

“What are we doing here?” Joel asked quietly, licking his lower lip. A laugh sprinkled from your mouth, and he joined in, the sounds mixing beautifully in the air. He was chuckling, but his eyes shone with uncertainty, searching yours for clarity.

“What do you mean, Joel?”

“I mean, what are we doing?” he echoed. It clicked. The last time you'd been this close you had trusted Joel, told him about your past. And here he was, giving you an out. He was saying, you’re the boss, you tell me what happens next. You could feel your pulse thrum between your thighs.

“What you say goes,” he said softly, reaching up to trace his fingers over the scar on your cheekbone.

“I want you,” your voice cracked on the third word, and if your cheeks weren’t already red from the excitement of the kiss, you would’ve blushed at how needy it sounded. But your tone was sure, and Joel nodded once, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

He pulled you closer so your chests were flush against one another, and you rested your forehead against his. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you saying those words.”

You shook your head at him in mock exasperation, but really, you just didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead of speaking, you kissed him again. You looped your arms lazily around his neck and pushed your tongue into his mouth, stealing the breath from his lungs. He made you feel desperate.

Joel’s hands drifted from your waist down your back, resting carefully just above the waist band of your pants. You reached back and took his hand, pushing it down to rest lower. Quickly, he slid both of his hands into your back pockets, gripping your ass through your pants.

You whimpered into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily. He removed the space between your lower halves, pulling you down so you rubbed against him. The feeling of him, firm beneath the zipper of his jeans, sent a jolt through your system. He ground up against you, breathing heavily against your lips, eyes open and watching your reactions. For a moment you felt a wave of shyness rush through your system. For years, no one had seen this side of you. The vulnerability was intense, and you tucked your face against his neck. Joel gripped your chin and pushed your face back into his line of sight, shaking his head.

“Let me see you,” he breathed. “I don’t wanna miss a single thing.”

Holding eye contact, he dragged his fingers across your belt, and started undoing the leather strap. Your hand stopped over his.

“Not here,” you said. “Upstairs.” He gripped the back of your thighs and stood up from the couch in a swift movement, walking you up the stairs. You peppered kisses along his neck, swiping your tongue along the pulsing artery under his tanned skin.

Once he reached the landing, he used his back to nudge the bedroom door open, and you couldn’t help but pull back to look at your surroundings. You tapped his shoulder absentmindedly, and he lowered you gently to your feet. As if Joel no longer existed, you let youe eyes roam across the room, hungrily taking in all the details of his most private space.

Passing by a walk-in closet, you trailed your fingertips overtop his bedside table, landing on a pair of glasses folded up beside a book. You lifted it carefully.

“An Idiot’s Guide to Space,” you read aloud, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

He was leaning against the wall, one hand propped on his hip, with a leg jutted out in front of him. His chest rose and fell quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. Irresistible, but not as irresistible as going through his things.

Sheepishly, he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Ellie loves space,” Joel told you. “Helps if I can understand a little of what she’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

“You really love that kid, huh?”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes were soft, staring at the book when you placed it back down.

A large window covered the wall opposite his bed, with a chest of drawers beneath it. You spotted two picture frames sitting on it and wandered towards them. But before you got too close, Joel’s arms had wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

His lips tickled your earlobe, his hot breath making goosebumps raise along your neck. “I want you,” he repeated your words from earlier.

You spun in his grip and pushed him into a seated position on the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt. With the skin of his torso revealed to you, you gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head. Joel’s lips were on your chest, kissing along your collarbones, along the tops of your breasts, as his hands fiddled with your bra strap.

After a few seconds of struggling he sighed in frustration and looked up at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” You grinned, and undid the strap yourself, throwing the bra somewhere behind you.

A heavy exhale fell from him, and he trailed his fingers over your pebbled nipples. The cold air in the room did you no favours, but Joel seemed exhilarated, pinching one between his fingers, and leaning in to flick his tongue over the other. You squeezed his shoulder and gasped at the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at your bud. As he licked and sucked, his hands drifted down to finish undoing your belt. He tugged and pushed your trousers down your legs, and your underwear went with them. Within a second, you were completely naked in front of him. Joel pulled back and let his dark eyes run over your body.

“I want you on the bed.”

You settled yourself in the middle of it, head tucked into his soft pillows and stared up at him in anticipation.

Under his intense gaze, your skin felt hot. Like whispers of a flame were tickling along your body; heat rising everywhere his eyes roamed. Joel kneeled on the mattress in front of you, and his large hands gripped your knees, pulling them apart. The urge to lean down and cover yourself was strong. But then he reached out and traced his fingers along your torso, from your collarbone, past your belly button, to the dark hair above where you wanted him most.

“My god,” he whispered in what seemed like disbelief. “You’re a dream.”

He pressed teasing kisses down your stomach, along the inside of your thighs, dragging his tongue tantalisingly, making goosebumps ripple out across your flesh. Puffed breaths were whispering along your skin everywhere except where you needed his mouth to be, and you were aching. You clenched around nothing, and let out a pitiful whimper when he finally exhaled over your wet heat.

Suddenly, his tongue licked a solid stripe all the way along your throbbing core, and you cried out. Finally.

“Fuck,” he groaned, inhaling deeply. His tongue was strong, shifting between swiping back and forth across your pulsing clit, and gently prodding into your entrance. Joel pulled one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, and held his palm against the other one, pinning it to the bed. His fingers dug into your skin, and the pressure only added to the sensation of his mouth on you.

“Joel,” you breathed heavily. He moaned into you in response, rubbing small circles over your clit with his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, eyes rolling back as you rocked your hips up against his face. “Fuck.” His hand moved from your thigh up to your chest, pinching and playing with your nipples as he fucked you with his mouth. Joel was ravenous and unrelenting, and after living so long without being touched by another person, you felt yourself close to orgasm within minutes.

“Give it to me,” he begged. “Cum for me, baby.”

After a few more seconds of his tongue dragging gloriously over you, you let out a deep moan and shuddered into the sheets, thighs tightening impossibly around his head. Your fingers raked through his hair, holding his face into you as you rode out your high. Somewhere through the pounding in your ears, you could hear Joel moaning with you, and feel the vibrations running through your core. When you finally came down, your thighs relaxed over his shoulders, but he wasn’t done. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit, cleaning you up. He pulled your aching bud between his lips, and gave it a soft suck. The sight of his face pressed into your dark curls made you feel like you were going to cum all over again.

“Joel,” you gasped, grabbing his hair to tug his face away from you. He looked up, slack jawed, with a deep frown across his forehead. His mouth and beard were shining with your slick, and your stomach tightened at what a vision he was.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I need to feel you,” you implored, and the frown disappeared. He leaned in and pressed one final sloppy kiss against your clit, before sitting back on his heels. You sat up hastily, helping him undo his belt, and then watched with heavy eyes as he stood up and removed his final articles of clothing.

His cock slapped up against his stomach, and you couldn’t help the way you hungrily stared at it. It didn’t surprise you that he was big. Something about the way he carried himself; so confident, so sure of himself. He was thick, and long, and your mouth salivated when you noticed precum leaking from the ruddy tip. You watched as he got back onto the bed, trailing his fingers down the length of it before gripping it at the base, and sighing in relief.

You flicked your eyes back up to his, exhilarated to see how intensely he was staring back at you. “I want to taste you,” you breathed, but he shook his head, bicep tensing as he lazily stroked his cock. “Please.”

“Trust me,” he grunted, eyebrows furrowed. “I hate myself for saying no, but you’ve got me so on edge already, darlin’. Had to stop myself from finishin’ with your thighs wrapped around my head.”

Your core throbbed painfully and you pushed forward, kissing him firmly. The taste of your own cum on your tongue made you moan softly; licking the tang off his lips, and swallowing it down.

You pulled away and slowly lowered down until your head hit the pillows. Joel stared down at you with parted lips and shook his head slowly.

“What?”

“Nothin',” he murmured, still shaking his head. “So beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned your face into the pillows. He hovered over you and pressed wet kisses along your exposed neck, his teeth nipping harshly at the juncture where it met your shoulder. You hissed at the pain, but sighed softly in forgiveness when he lapped his tongue soothingly over the spot. You watched Joel pull a condom from his bedside table, leaning back to rip open the packet, and slide the latex down onto himself.

With his cock in his fist, he pushed his tip between your folds, and you exhaled in unison at the feeling. After dragging his head along you a few times, he finally nudged his tip against your entrance. Your head was pressed back into the pillows, eyes shut and mouth wet from his kisses. You were blissed out already, but fluttered your eyes open slowly at the feeling of his fingers running over your left eyebrow.

“You with me?” he murmured, the soft look in his eyes almost too much for you to handle.

You hummed, turning your head slightly to press a kiss against his palm.

“Gotta relax for me,” he urged softly, tracing his fingers down gently over your collarbones, wanting to feel every bit skin that had been revealed to him.

You eased your tense muscles as much as you could, taking a deep breath before letting it rush out of you slowly. And with your exhale, he slipped inside you with one smooth motion. You gasped at the feeling, mouth hanging open in an 'O' shape at the sharp sting.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you groaned, relaxing your furrowed eyebrows. “It’s just been so long.”

The pain was already shifting into a faint, dull ache, melding beautifully with the pleasure of being so full. He readjusted his legs, and the movement caused his tip to prod gently into the deepest part of you, and you cried out.

“Fuck,” he gasped, moving to pull back, but you gripped his shoulders tightly to keep him in place.

“Feels good,” you gasped, licking her lips. “You’re so big, filling me up so well.” He swallowed back a pitiful moan.

Joel was thick and heavy inside you, and he knew better than to move too quickly. He let you adjust to him for a few more moments, enjoying watching the way your nose scrunched up and your chest heaved with harsh breaths. You were wet and hot around him, and he felt like a teenager losing his virginity again after his few years of celibacy. But he was determined to give you his all.

“God, please move,” you finally groaned, reaching up to play with your nipples out of desperation.

Without any more encouragement, he pulled back slowly, until just the tip remained inside, before pushing himself forward into your heat. You moaned in unison, your hands travelling down to his biceps. He started a steady rhythm, his eyes floating down to stare hungrily at the way your chest bounced with the force of his movements. Joel leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, circling it with his tongue and groaning as you pulsed around him. Your fingers pulled his hair painfully tight, and the feeling made the muscles in his stomach tingle.

He was so deep inside, and yet you ground your hips up towards him, wanting to feel him even further. It had his hips stuttering against yours, and he let out a low vibrating groan. Joel’s hands gripped against your hip bones and pressed you down into the bed, seemingly holding you away from him.

“Baby,” he ground out, and it was more of a warning than anything else.

“You can’t do that,” he panted. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doin’ that.”

You smirked lazily up at him and pushed your hips up against his weight again, meeting him stroke for stroke. There was no pain anymore, just a heavenly feeling of fullness, and you were desperate for him to let lose. “Maybe I don’t want you to last.”

“God, woman,” he scowled. “You’ll be the death of me, I know it.”

He pulled out and then thrust back into you with enough force to knock the breath out of you, and you bit your lip to hold in the high-pitched moan trying to escape.

“Let me hear you,” he ordered. “I want to hear you cum for me again, just give me one more, and then I’m yours.”

You let go of your bottom lip, letting whines and sighs fall easily from your mouth. The fire in Joel’s chest roared, loving the way you allowed the tables to turn, and obeyed him so quickly. It was so out of your character to be submissive to anyone. The thought that he had as much of an effect on you as you had on him made his cock throb painfully.

The feeling was so overwhelming you could barely keep your eyes open. He was fast, and strong, but you weren’t afraid, you were activated. Your abdomen was tight with the pleasure, and he pounded into you relentlessly. Suddenly, his cock was pressing into that spot again, and you let out an urgent exhale of his name.

“There?” he growled, angling his hips to hit it again, and again, and again. You moaned desperately, spreading your thighs wider to give him more access.

You’d forgotten every word except for Joel’s name, and you said it over and over. He had reconnected you to something so deep, so animalistic inside of you. Desire was something that hadn’t properly crossed your mind in years, only for brief moments when you rubbed one out quickly in rare moments alone. Not for a long time had you felt wanted – nor had you wanted someone the way you did with him.

Without warning, his fingers met your clit and began rubbing messy circles on it while he snapped his hips. It was all too much, and you cried out harshly as the tightening in your abdomen grew.

Your mouth was on his neck, and all you could taste was Joel’s salty skin when you finally came. Your body wracked with convulsions, the muscles in your stomach spasming intensely as he fucked you through your high.

His thrusts grew sloppy, and his face looked pained, sweat rolling down his biceps. He shifted so his elbows were in the pillows beside your head, and his forehead knocked against yours with every shift of his hips. One of his hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head, holding you in position while he pressed a sloppy kiss to your open mouth. Your orgasm was prolonged as he pounded against the spongy spot inside of you, and you were twitching, close to becoming over sensitive.

“God,” he moaned into your mouth. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

You mewled weakly at his words, purposefully clenching around him in response.

It didn’t take long for Joel to follow you off the edge, mouth ajar as deep groans spilled from his lips. His face dropped into your shoulder, and you sighed at the feeling of him spilling inside you. He said your name softly, delicately, into your ear, his voice more gravelly than normal from exertion. For a moment, with sticky skin pressed together, and eyes closed in exhaustion, your heavy breaths were the only audible thing in the room.

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open to look around, and admired the way the moonlight shone through the window and hit his bare back. You trailed your fingers down his spine, enjoying the way goosebumps rippled across his flesh and he shivered.

“You ticklin’ me?”

You laughed into his hair. “Just enjoying all this skin.”

He hummed thoughtfully, lifting an arm to trail his hand along your side in reciprocation. “I’m enjoyin’ it too.”

He pushed up onto his elbows and slowly pulled himself out of you. Your breath hitched at the sensation, the pain from earlier returning ever so slightly now that the heat of the moment had dissipated.

“You good?” he asked softly, falling back onto his heels.

“I’m great,” you smiled, watching him pull the condom off carefully and duck into the bathroom to dispose of it.

He padded softly back into the room a few moments later with a cloth in his hands, and used it to gently wipe down your skin. You flinched at the feeling of the warm cloth between your thighs, and he apologised in a hushed tone, working quickly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, staring at him fondly. In that quiet moment, you took the opportunity to admire him properly. His body was thick and strong, all muscles underneath scarred, tanned skin. He had large strong thighs and biceps, but his stomach was soft, and you liked that.

“What’re you lookin’ at stud?” he raised an eyebrow and you smirked cheekily.

“Admiring you is all.”

He shook his head, disappearing off to the bathroom again. You tugged the covers up over yourself and laid there alone for a moment, head clear of thoughts, and sleep so close on the horizon.

“You’re staying?” you heard him, and looked over to see him standing in the doorway.

Your eyebrow jutted up questioningly. “Joel Miller, if you think I’m walking home after all that, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

He let out a quick laugh, and pushed himself under the covers beside you. His hand slid from your thigh up your body before resting gently over your ribcage, thumb stroking along the underside of your breast.

“Good,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Don’t want you to go.”

You woke with a sharp inhale, eyes flicking around the room slowly. Still in the chokehold of a deep sleep, you yawned into your elbow and sat up slowly. The night before came rushing back to you, and you turned to see Joel sleeping soundly beside you. He slept on his front, with one arm tucked underneath his head, and face squished up into the pillow. Lips puffed out, deep breaths inhaling and exhaling through them. You stared at him for a few moments, admiring how peaceful he looked in his slumber.

He let out a sudden harsh breath, and an incoherent murmur escaped his mouth.

“What are you dreaming about?” you whispered. Reaching out, you let your fingertips whisper along the skin of his back, down his spine as far as you were allowed, to where the blanket covered him. You traced a line over a particularly bad scar on his back, and cringed to picture how he’d gotten it.

“Was dreamin’ bout you,” he said suddenly. “Until you woke me up.”

You gasped, sitting up straighter.

“Christ, I thought you were asleep.”

Joel smiled, eyes still closed.

“And what was I doing in this dream of yours, Miller?”

His tongue slipped out to wet his lips, before settling back into a lazy grin. Slowly, Joel’s bleary eyes opened to look up at you. “Was a continuous replay of last night. I wish you hadn’t woken me up, actually. Was quite enjoyin’ myself.” His voice was husky from sleep, and it sent a jolt of heat through your stomach.

“Oh, is that so?” you jokingly huffed, pushing the blankets off your body. “In that case, I’ll get out of your hair and let you sleep.” But before you could get off the mattress, his arms snaked around you, slamming you back into his chest.

“Not so fast, soldier,” Joel mumbled sleepily, pressing gentle kisses onto the skin behind your ear and tugging the duvet up over your heads.

The stairs creaked loudly as you walked down them, an hour later. Your clothes felt stale on your body; stiff after being discarded on the cool hardwood floors overnight. Your skin was cold, begging you to climb back into the bed where Joel still laid naked, tucked up under the covers.

You were halfway to the front door when Ellie’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Fucking finally.”

You turned quickly, trying hard to display an expression of stoic nonchalance. She was splayed across the couch with her legs kicked up onto the arm rest, grinning over a copy of Savage Starlight.

��I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”

“Sure, sure,” she chuckled, lifting the comic up to hide her face behind it. “I may be a kid, but I know what it means to sneak out of someone’s house at 8 in the morn-“

“I’m not sneaking out,” you interrupted coolly, your face flaming at the insinuation. Ellie lowered the comic just enough for her eyes to be visible, and raised one eyebrow at you.

“I see.”

“Shut up,” is all you could get out, and threw yourself out the front door, Ellie’s loud laughter following you onto the street.

It was a particularly chilly morning, and you gripped your black jacket around yourself tightly. You’d promised Maria the day before to stop by for a tea, and although you longed to be at home for a moment before work, you headed quickly to Tommy and Maria’s.

Knocking once on the front door, you let yourself in, calling out a quick “hello!” so as not to alarm anyone.

“In the kitchen!” Maria’s voice shouted back, and you rubbed your red hands together for warmth, traipsing through the house. When you reached the kitchen, you were surprised to see Maria wasn’t alone. A young woman sat at the dining table, gripping a steaming mug and staring at the table. Her face was red and blotchy. You lingered awkwardly in the doorway, glancing at Maria for direction.

“It’s okay, have you met Rose?” Maria ushered you in.

“No,” you replied slowly.

“You work at the stables,” Rose perked up suddenly, her stare firmly stuck on you.

“Yes,” you replied dumbly. Your mind was blank as you stared at the stranger, wondering who she was and how she knew anything about you.

“Have you seen Milena?” you asked desperately.

Your hackles lowered slowly, and you glanced at Maria curiously before shaking your head no. Milena worked at the stables with you. She was one of the women who taught you the ropes, and helped you get familiar with grooming the horses.

The tension in the room was thick, and you looked away quickly when Rose sniffled, and reached up to wipe a tear from her eye. I shouldn’t be here.

“She’s m-missing,” Rose stuttered out wetly. Maria walked up behind her and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Rose found a note that Milena left for her,” Maria explained softly. “She’s been gone for a day now.”

“She didn’t write that note,” Rose raised her voice. Your heart raced in your chest. You stared at Maria’s face, and tried to gage how you should be reacting to the information. Sweat slicked your palms when you noticed the warily anxious expression the woman wore. “I swear she didn’t, she wouldn’t write that shit. She wouldn’t leave me here alone. Not after,” she paused as a sob wracked through her body. “Not after everything we went through to g-get here.”

“She left Jackson?” you asked. “Did she say where she was going?” Milena hadn’t mentioned anything around the stables about planning to leave the settlement. And Milena was chatty. You had often shied away from her when you shared a shift, because of how much Milena tried to pry into your personal life.

Rose didn’t respond, dropping her face into her hands, shoulders wracking with sobs. The display of emotion set you on edge. You felt like an intruder on such an intense moment for Rose and took a step backward into the doorway.

“I’m going to go,” you murmured when Maria made eye contact with you. She nodded in understanding, leaning down to whisper in Rose’s ear. You spun on your heel and walked quickly toward the front door.

“Please believe me, Maria,” you could hear Rose saying. “To just leave without saying goodbye? Milena would never do that.”

You let the door fall shut behind you.

part four | series masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #my writing #under the night

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