Passing The Torch

Hiiiii I love your Steven x reader fanfic u really deserve all the followers, it’s really well made.

Well I wanted to see if I could request a smut, since I’ve fell practically in love with the character of Steven, I wan te d to ask if u could write a fanfic where he is really submissive and shy, and the fem reader is more like dominant and teasing with him.

Nothing more, I will let you do the rest, I know u will amaze me either way. Thank u so muchhh

Devotion || Steven Grant x Reader

-> Rating: 18+

-> Word count: 2.8k

-> Steven’s late night routine of solving the Rubik’s cube has become somewhat of a guilty pleasure of yours. [ I hope that you enjoy this fic that I wrote! Thank you so much for your support and love on my previous fics, and entrusting me to write this idea. Big thanks to @foxilayde for beta reading and editing, I love you! ❤️]

Gif Credit doesn’t belong to me!

TW/CW: Can you tell I have an Oscar Isaac hand kink? Sub!Steven and SoftDomme!Reader. Fingering, use of the word ‘Mistress’. Yet another relatively mild fic for me!

Shk, shk, shk.

The sound pulls your attention from the poetry book that you borrowed from Steven’s shelf of miscellaneous works to keep yourself busy. It wasn’t often that your concentration was compromised by noise, after all, you had been sitting beside the fish tank. The buzzing of the filter and the trickle of running water pushed to the back of your mind as you read through each sonnet.

Usually, when you participate in something you enjoy, such as reading, you find it hard to shake your undivided attention. Steven once commented that “bombs could blitz London for the first time in almost eighty years, and you would still insist upon finishing the page”. He certainly wasn’t wrong- there is a discipline to your leisure time. It’s not often you can carve out a moment of peace for yourself.

The sound of Steven solving a Rubik’s Cube over and over though? That is something you simply can not ignore.

Perhaps it’s obscene for you to find such a mundane thing so intensely *erotic*. You can’t help but be captivated by the way his nimble fingers rotate each layer of colored blocks with such practised speed. His gaze is intense as he navigates the cube, though you know he doesn’t need to study it so closely: Steven’s skills are such that he can solve it without even looking.

Despite your best efforts, you can’t control the urge. Your eyes leave the pages of poetry that had captivated your attention, and instead focus on something a lot more aesthetically pleasing and less mentally taxing. Your pupils seem to drag your vision towards the scene in front of you entirely against your will. To the shk shk shk.

Upon seeing it though, you can’t exactly say you regret yielding to your compulsions. Steven’s head rests back against a navy blue pillow, sprawled across his bed in a white cotton T-shirt and grey boxers, bathed in the silver moonlight that leaks across the mattress from the window that he had left open in order for you to read- despite you insisting that the light from the fish tank was sufficient enough. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks absently at the ceiling, his mind clearly elsewhere.

The sight is stunning, but your eyes zero-in on something even more engrossing. Steven balances the edge of the Rubik’s cube on the meat of his right palm, holding the little puzzle and solving it single-handedly. The joints of his fingers bend and crease as he reaches across the width of the plastic cuboid; tanned knuckles turning a pale shade with the stretch and the pressure as he turns the selected row to its desired position.

In the low lighting, the veins in the back of his hand are a pale greeny-blue colour against his olive skin and they stretch down to the joint of his wrist. His metacarpal bones protrude under his skin with certain movements, before disappearing back into his flesh upon his return to a less strenuous hand position.

Upon completing the puzzle, Steven’s stunning coffee-colored eyes glance down at the cube. He pinches opposite corners with his thumb and forefinger, rotating the game with his middle fingertip on an axis to assess and ensure that each of the colours are settled in their relevant groups. When satisfied, he undoes all of the work, scrambling the rows, this time with two hands, and beginning again with his head settled against the pillow as he stares at the beige ceiling.

“Steven?” You sound his name. It feels odd in your dry mouth, as though the syllables don’t fit between your lips. There’s a pulse thrumming in your chest and between your thighs as you feel your composure begin to slip.

Steven doesn’t hear you, your voice barely surpassing the volume of a whisper. Instead, the shk, shk, shk of the cube rows falling into place answer you in your expectant silence. The pad of his thumb strokes down the ridge of the cuboid with gentle precision and it’s enough to push you over the edge.

“Steven.”

The springs of Steven’s mattress creak slightly as his body jolts upright, shocked out of his concentration. There’s nothing on earth that could prevent him from focusing on you when you use *that* tone of voice with him. The kind that ramps up his blood pressure tenfold and straightens his spine to attention.

“Yes?” He responds cautiously, not entirely sure what he had done to deserve that timbre of voice. His eyes settle on your face, searching for some understanding of just how he had turned the atmosphere in the room without even realising it.

“Are you intentionally teasing me?” You ask him, tone even once again as you close the book that had settled in your lap. You don’t bother to bookmark the sonnet Steven had ‘interrupted’, the poem abandoned amongst the pages as you return to its rightful place on the bookshelf. Like a child with a Christmas present in April, it no longer held your attention. You’ve been gifted something far more fun to play with.

The panic that settles into Steven’s expression makes you feel as though your blood is fizzing beneath your skin.

“Tea- No! No, I wouldn’t dream of it, I- Have I been doin’ something wrong?” He stumbles over his words as he tries to justify a crime he didn’t even know he was committing. He drops the Rubik’s cube blindly on his bedside table, unintentionally showing his utter devotion to pleasing you. You know that Steven would throw himself at your feet and praise you until his knees bled if that was what you desired.

Standing with effortless grace from your chair, you’re careful to articulate that preeminence throughout the subtle movements of your body as you pass the floor towards the bed. The barely-there sway of your hips that makes Steven’s eyes follow the motion with his eyes left and right like a pendulum is how you know you’ve got him.

“I think… you got tired of me not paying attention to you, so you decided you were going to show me how quick those fingers are. I think,” you reach his side of the bed and bend slightly to rest your hands on the duvet. “You were trying to show off.” You point out with a playfully accusatory tone. Steven sits up in bed, staring up at you with painfully innocent eyes.

“No, I- just the puzzles, help me stay up…” Steven is quick to try to correct the record, motioning haphazardly around the room when he trails off, as if wordlessly filling in the gaps left in his answer: that staying awake keeps Marc at bay.

“Oh, they help you… stay up, huh?” You teasingly muse, eyes dragging down the length of his body in an attempt to make him even more jittery. It works.

“Oh no- bollocks- not like that!” You love seeing him struggle to form the words, to explain himself. You know it’s because he’s thinking of all the things you could do to him if he said yes. His words won’t leave his throat because pictures of you have infested his mind make him slow to form coherent sentences of explanation.

“Then what? Tell me, Steven. What is it like?” You whisper, quickly shifting the mood of the room again by taking hold of Steven’s face. His chin is cupped by your palm, perfectly manicured fingers pressing into the soft flesh of his cheeks and forcing his lips to purse. He looks adorable this way, owly-eyed and cheeks flushed as he hears your voice drop an octave.

His cheeks radiate heat and his eyes are cast low, down in his lap, as he finally answers. His voice is soft, words a little slurred and mispronounced with the awkward grip you have on his face, pushing the inside of his cheeks into the sides of his teeth. “‘S whatever you like, Mistress.” It takes you a little by surprise, the readiness Steven has to submit to your will, so much so that a long moment of silence washes over the two of you.

In the quiet, Steven doesn’t move an inch, eyes stuck to his lap as he impatiently awaits your answer. His body is board-stiff like his spine has been glued in place, and his face burns a light mahogany. It’s hard not to become engrossed by the image, to want to take a photo of the way his lips are smushed together in your grip. He’s so pretty like this.

“Mistress can think of a much better use for your fingers. Don’t you agree, Steven?” You ask, loosening your fingers and brushing your thumb against the curve of his cheekbone, allowing him to nod in earnest. You’ll forgive him for not responding verbally, for not using honorifics. This time. His eyelashes flutter as his iris’ flick back up to your face. He looks at you like you’ve offered him a winning lottery ticket when you release your grip. “Get to work, then.”

Steven reaches for you swiftly, nodding his head with enthusiasm as he anchors his hands on your hip bones. He doesn’t pull you towards him as you had expected, instead he pushes you back, forcing you to take a few steps in order to put some space between you and the bed.

“What are you doing? I asked you to use your fingers.” You question gently, and Steven climbs from the mattress onto the sandy, hardwood floor. He’s on his knees in front of you as he pulls the waistband of your pyjama shorts down over your otherwise naked hips and helps you step out of the discarded clothing. The realisation that you’re not wearing any panties causes him to whimper and the sound causes heat to pool in your abdomen.

Failing to answer immediately, Steven’s fingers wrap around your calf. He massages the muscle while gently lifting your thigh over his shoulder. Your heel is pressing into his spine and his other palm is careful to steady the foot on which you are balanced by resting a firm hand just above the back of your straight knee. “I wanna watch what I’m doin’ Mistress.”

Before you’re even able to fully digest exactly what Steven had meant, he’s sweeping those deft fingers through your hot, slick folds. The pleasure that rips through you so suddenly makes your quiet moan of bliss sound so distant. Your knees tremble as he drags the length of his index finger, tip to knuckle, across your clit, and you find yourself scrambling to grab ahold of his curls in a desperate attempt to steady yourself.

“Ohh~” You gasp breathlessly, head tilting backward as the spark of ecstasy skits down your spine from the base of your neck to the tips of your toes. Steven’s fingers are delicate, his finger joints adding an extra layer of sensation as they pass over your clit with an effortlessness akin to the way his fingers work that fucking Rubik’s cube.

“This good, Mistress?” Steven asks softly as he daintily sweeps the tips of his fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingerprints before using the lubrication to circle your clit in quicker, smoother circles. He knows how you love it when he calls you that, always using the softest, neediest voice when he speaks each syllable.

You struggle to think of a response, as though every possible answer, verbal or otherwise, has entirely slipped your mind. The hazy defocusing of your vision is disorientating- your eyes are crossing and you no longer know north from south, left from right.

Steven craves verbal validation, you know this well, but you can’t grant him a “good boy”, not with the way his fingers twirl you with a shk shk shk and undo you like a puzzle.

The only thing you have to offer him in return for his skilled efforts is the validating grip of your shaking hands in his ebony locks.

Under any other circumstances, Steven’s face being so close to your cunt without eating you out would be embarrassing. But when you glance down at him, double vision slowly focusing on his expression, you can’t help but note the reverence that blooms in his irises as he gazes at your pussy. He is watching with rapt interest- your clit, your folds, your puffy throbbing flesh, all gleaming with slick in the moonlight.

Steven always manages to make you feel worshipped without uttering a single prayer (though he is on his knees now). His eyes are evidence enough of his utter devotion and admiration. He would never allow you to think for even a second that you were not divine.

“St-Steven,” you gasp as his finger continues its steady, circular motions that pull your pleasure tighter, “Inside.”

There’s a hesitation in the repetitive sweep of your clit.

“In... side- what? In- I don’t…”

His halting voice voice drops slowly like syrup dripping from a pot as you take ahold of his wrist. He’s playing with you, acting innocent, and you don’t have a single fuck to give that he’s flipping the game, flipping you like a cube in his palm, You tilt his hand by pushing on the meat of his palm with your thumb, angling his fingers just right where you’re soaking, where his fingertips slip inside of you to feel the source of your need.

“Oh-… Ohh. Yeah- You mean…”

You swear, you swear you see a self satisfied smile behind Steven’s eyes as he works his fingers inside of your cunt ever so slowly, teasing the give of your walls around his digits. He can feel your cunt flutter around him, your quads trembling under his palm where he continues to hold your unsteady body upright.

Hips rocking forward onto his knuckles, you whine softly in a wordless attempt to tell Steven ‘yes, just like that, you’re doing so good’. Spurred on by the little noises that leak from your throat, he curls his fingers inside you, searching for that spot that sparks stars behind your eyes, the spot that he knows is going to buckle your knees.

“Like this?” He asks softly, looking between your eyes and your glistening cunt. You know he doesn’t need to ask, the bliss is written across your expression in the form of your mouth pulled into a weak ‘o’ shape and your eyes rolling back into your skull as the bone of his knuckle presses up against your clit weakly. He’s being cheeky. You’ll remember this.

For now, though, you’re entirely helpless to the swell of your orgasm that he raises so easily from your cunt. The slip of his fingers through your folds, the wet punctuating rhythm is violent in your ears as you teeter on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm. Breathing raggedly at the ceiling, your head tilts back, bending your body in a half-heart arc and your toes curl into the delineating sand.

“S-Steven-“ you gasp weakly, thighs beginning to shake as he eases the orgasm out of you with such practised elegance- that it feels like a complete separation from his nervous, innocent personality. It’s moments like this, with his thumb pressed to your clit, and deft strong strokes twisting inside you, that you thank Marc for Steven’s subconscious skills because you’re cumming.

You’re cumming, and it’s blinding. White flashes across your eyes, almost like tv static as the image of Steven watching you come apart between your knees blurs before you, then doubles. It’s impossible to tell in the throes of your orgasm, but tears are building and spilling from your eyes. Steven’s fingers are drenched as they work you through each wave, the wet sucking sounds of his fingers guiding your cunt through the gates of heaven bounces off the walls of the moonlit flat.

Realisation that his free hand had been the only thing to keep your feet steady sinks in as the roiling pleasure fades to a simmer. Steven presses his palm to the small of your back, no doubt stopping you from falling backward in your rapture. Perhaps you should expect nothing less, but the small action makes your heart swell at the knowledge that he’ll always look after you.

“Hah…” Your chest heaves as you chase air with the expansion of your lungs. Each dose of oxygen adds to the afterglow that seems to settle so deep in your body and coats your bones like honey. “Aren’t I more fun to play with than some puzzle cube?” The joke makes Steven grin, his eyes crease in the corners the way they only do when he hears or sees something he truly finds funny.

“More easy to solve, too.” he chuckles, stroking his knuckles down the insides of your thighs in a gentle action to ease you down from the clouds he had catapulted you to. He looks so pretty for you like this, on his knees with a soft blush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose-

Wait. What?

You slap his shoulder playfully, limbs limp with exhaustion. “Take that back!”

He kisses the top of your thigh tenderly, “Only joking, mistress.”

The way he runs his nose softly along the top of your thigh is a stark contrast to the bulge in his boxers and the wet patch in the fabric where his cock had leaked precum: the side effects of taking you apart and putting you back together again.

“I think it’s my turn to play with you.” You murmur softly, caressing the curve of his cheekbone and pushing your fingers through his curly locks with a smile. “On the bed, baby. Let’s see if Mistress can’t make you cum one-handed too.”

END

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New vessel who dis (x)

Puzzles

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!Reader (mention of Marc Spector x fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: Steven’s not rough with you, like Marc or Jake. He’s more… Reserved. But he will wreck your shit if you ask nicely.

A/N: So yes this is fluffy Steven smut. No I cannot be stopped and no it is not a part of Red Handed.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW under the cut, softdom!Steven, sub?Reader, riding, missionary, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding kink, trying for a baby, pregnancy, mention of marathon sex??? I think that’s it???

Steven Grant was a master of puzzles.

Jigsaws he solved within a matter of hours, if that. You’d long since stopped trying to keep track of his 3000-or-more-piece puzzles, always Egyptian-themed, that he’d clear a table for, finish in record time, and then break it up and put it away before reaching for the next one. 

Escape rooms? You figured when you introduced him to the random little escape room app on your phone that he’d be just as stumped as you were. Instead, ten minutes later, he asked you how he gets to the next world. “Steven,” You breathed in astonishment. “You… You beat the fucking game?!” I think it’s a given to say that he’d also completely owned your consoles when you showed him puzzle-based games like Skyrim or Zelda.

Jenga, Ka-Plunk, DnD, hell, even Clue, he blew your mind with how quickly puzzles were solved by his hands. Incomprehensible, astounding, holy fucking shit your boyfriend is a genius. 

Specifically, one of them in particular.

His Rubik’s cube.

The way he moved those goddamn fingers, those fingers that he could bend and flick and curl expertly against you and in you when you needed him too. Those hands alone could make you see stars if he was really intent on doing so.

He hated it when he had to use both hands for the Rubik’s cube. So he oiled it, ensuring that it flipped and moved with the smallest of touches, one-handed. Shk, shk, shk, he’d already solved it twice while you were watching, restarting the process when you asked him that one simple question. “Just one more time, love. Three times, then I’m all yours, yeah?” His soft voice was deeper, huskier, a little out-of-focus because of how deeply he was concentrating– not that you could tell he was. He looked calm, serene… but calculating. Deep in thought.

You were the puzzle this time.

“S-Steven, please–”

“Just a little bit longer, love.” He tossed the cube up in the air in front of your face, just being a showoff at this point. 

Two weeks ago, you’d started talking about raising a family together. At first it had just been uncertain questions, but then you’d started looking into schools nearby, making lists of baby names, adopting a healthier diet, and going to the doctor. Steven was more determined to get you pregnant than you’d expected, tracking your cycles and ovulation periods– hence why he’d made you take a week off work. He’d seemed a bit nervous when he admitted that he called in for you. “Well, love… you’re ovulating now, yeah? I figured now’s a better time than any to–” You’d never heard the end of that sentence, having immediately dragged him to the bed.

 But now there wasn’t an equal flow, like there usually was.

“Don’t cum until I say you can, dove. You can do that, yeah? Can you be a good girl for me?”

He’d laid back, helping you straddle his lap and sink down on his thick cock; it was then you’d realized that he hadn’t cum earlier, that he was holding off, maybe hoping an extremely powerful orgasm might be what it takes to knock you up. You were a puzzle he needed to solve, so like always when he focused intensely, you didn’t even begin to understand what he might be thinking. 

He hadn’t thrust up into you, although he had allowed you to roll your hips, bounce on his length, do whatever you want at whatever pace you wanted– there were only three rules. You couldn’t touch yourself, you couldn’t cum, and you had to keep your hands on his stomach so he knew you weren’t cheating in your blissed-out state.

Slowly, his dark chocolate eyes trailed from the Rubik’s cube to your red, sweaty face. “S-Steven… Please, please…” 

You found it. Right there. That spot where you can easily drive to your ecstasy. Maybe Steven won’t notice if you cum. Maybe he’ll let it slide. But he knew your body better than you did, and when you started to speed up the rocking of your hips, Steven’s free hand flew to your waist, effectively stopping your impending orgasm. “Steeeevvennn,” You whined, reduced to a blubbering mess of begging to barter for your release. Your approaching euphoria was ripped from you, descending rapidly into a cold pit of roiling tension in your lower belly. 

Steven’s hand crawled up your side, brushing painfully close to your breast without touching it and running up the length of your neck. He stopped at your mouth, fingers expertly running over your top and bottom lip gently. “Sh, dove,” He said, all but absentminded as you tried to fuck yourself without fucking yourself on him, “Almost there.”

He slipped his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them. You swirled your tongue and bobbed your head, using the same movements as you would when sucking him off, but aside from briefly glancing to your face, he gave no reaction to indicate that it was turning him on at all. His cock barely twitched inside you, and you weren’t entirely certain if he just had that good self-control, or if you’d gone numb from the waist down from fucking like rabbits all day in any position and location possible in your flat.

Finally– finally– he removed his fingers and twisted to toss the Rubik’s cube onto the nightstand, unintentionally shifting himself deeper inside of you, if possible, and eliciting a moan from you; yep, you could still definitely feel everything down there. If anything, you were over-sensitive, rather than under. He stared up at you with admiration and a small smile, massaging your thighs. “You did so well for me, dove. You ready to cum?”

If it were only possible, you would have cum right then. “Yes, please yes!” Maybe in the morning you’d be a little embarrassed about how easily you begged, and so quickly, too– but you had little time to think about it. Effortlessly, Steven rolled you both over so that he was on top, between your legs and still buried deep inside you– maybe even deeper, oh god, you can’t take it–

Steven’s gentle kiss on your forehead was nothing compared to the sheer intensity of how hard he pistoned his hips into you, the head of his cock bumping your cervix and almost making you scream. “Let it out, darling,” Steven urged, “I like to hear you. Please, love?” He punctuated the question with an open-mouthed, heavy kiss on your pulse point right under your jaw, and this time you didn’t hold back. Your wail of pleasure drowned out his soft moans and gasps as he panted for air. Sweat glistened silver on his tawny skin, dripping from his nose, his hair, the chain necklace he wore– gently, you tugged on it, and Steven’s hands flew to yours. He entwined your fingers together before pinning them on either side of your head, driving deeper, faster, harder, until you can’t breathe, you can’t see, there’s only Steven, who kisses you passionately as his thrusts falter. “You can cum now darling,” He breathed into your mouth, moaning as you screamed his name loudly enough to hurt your throat. You soaked the bed, him, hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole flat was soaked. You’d never squirted before with him, and you wondered if it was what he’d been planning for. 

Steven came with a cry, finishing as deep as he possibly could– a part of you thought he must have shot himself directly into your womb. He let go of your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he held you close, trying to catch his breath. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, wincing as his hips rocked of their own accord in the aftershocks of his high. “Can you keep it all in for me when I pull out, dove? We’ve gotta make sure every drop has a chance, darling, every drop.” His hand rested pointedly on your stomach, making you smile and nod frantically.

When you shivered, he immediately reached for a nearby blanket, carefully pulling out of you and ensuring you were warm enough before moving away. When he came back, he very gently cleaned you up before moving you to a hot bath, letting you lay there while he changed the sheets. Before you could even think of moving from the tub, Steven returned carrying his comfiest hoodie and sweatpants he knew you liked to wear, along with a snack oh-so-typical of Steven. 

“Are those… cookies?”

“Oatmeal cookies,” He specified, sitting on the edge of the tub and carefully handing you your plate. “With raisins. Better for you and the baby, innit?”

You flushed up to your hairline, touched by the gesture. “Honey, we don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet.”

“You will be,” Steven said excitedly, setting the milk (yes, he even brought you milk) on the sink so that he could kneel on the outside of the tub, staring at you fondly with his chin resting on the edge. He caressed your face, smiling when you leaned into him to press your foreheads together. “We’re gonna get you pregnant this week, love, I can feel it.” He kissed you softly, before his face contorted thoughtfully as he pulled slowly away.

“Steven?”

“Orange juice,” He said, abruptly standing.

“Huh?!”

He grabbed the glass of milk on his way out of the bathroom. “Orange juice is better than milk, right? Or, maybe not? Maybe they’re equal? You wouldn’t want them at once, love, so; orange juice, yeah, and a banana? I’ll just drink the milk then, don’t wanna waste it, and I’m not sure if I could pour it back into the container without makin’ a bloody mess…”

You listened to his rambling move about the flat as you nibbled on your cookies, smiling to yourself. You and Steven wanted this baby more than anything; and you wanted it even more since Marc and Jake were both scared but excited at the prospect. You looked at baby clothes together, you had everything planned out, and now you were finally, actually trying without any kind of protection to conceive.

Steven may have planned the week, but they were all so sweet, so supportive, so protective, ensuring that you eat right, drink right, sleep right, rest, bathe– 

–and you loved them with all your heart.

The next morning, when you were making the bed, you found his Rubik’s cube half-finished on the nightstand. A smile made its way onto your face as you realized he’d never completed the puzzle last night in favor of completing you.

A couple weeks later, when you and Steven read the positive results of the pregnancy test, you realize, amidst all the cheering and hugging and crying, that with all of his planning, trying to get you pregnant was yet another puzzle he had solved, effortlessly.

With the help of Marc and Jake, of course.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! :3

Tags: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @poeticsorcery @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @laters-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid

i miss geto i miss him so bad

Jimmy + looking at Kim Kim version

#an otp can do both [insp]

Do you play the piano? 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

one thing i'm missing (joel miller x reader) PART FIVE

i can't believe this fic is almost done 😭 there's just one more part to go after this one and then it'll be over, which is sad but i'm SO appreciative of all the kind words, it all means so much to me. thank you so much for reading & here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. masterlist | ao3 summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: (for this chapter) fem!reader, smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), unprotected p in v sex (very tender & loving), cunnilingus, pet names, soft!joel word count: 5.1k

Pulling yourself out of Joel's arms was probably the most difficult thing you'd ever had to do, but you'd been standing there kissing in the hot spring for at least twenty minutes at that point, smiling at each other between stolen pecks and tender whispers. The way he looked at you now was still the same but somehow less guarded, more open. He didn't try to hide the way his gaze darted to your lips, to your breasts, to your legs and back up again. You felt so safe in his embrace, his fingers trailing up and down your back in a steady motion as he kissed you sweetly. You never wanted the moment to end.

But it had to. Ellie was waiting back at the cabins and it wasn't wise to leave her alone for much longer. You'd obviously checked the entire resort for infected but you'd been caught off guard before; it was always better to be safe than sorry.

“We need to go back,” Joel murmured against your lips, almost like he'd read your mind, and you felt yourself pout.

“I know, but I don't want to.”

He smiled, kissing you again, hands palming your shoulder blades, “I know. I could kiss you for hours,” he groaned playfully against your mouth, “Suddenly I'm sixteen years old again.”

“Cute,” you giggled, “I bet you were adorable.”

“I was a football player,” he teased, “Got all the cheerleaders.”

“Suuure you did.”

He raised his eyebrows, “You think I'm joking? They loved me. Don't I look like a cheerleader magnet?”

You rolled your eyes, “All my cheerleading knowledge comes from Bring it On, did you ever see it?” He shook his head, “It was a movie about cheerleaders, it came out a few years before the outbreak. I remember my sister rented it and let me watch it with her.” You smiled at the memory, it was one of the more concrete things you could remember from before the world had gone to shit.

He groaned again, shutting his eyes, “Please don't remind me how old you are, I just went from sixteen to fifty-six in about five seconds,” you laughed and he shook his head, trying not to smile, “I'm serious, I really do forget that you're...” he trailed off.

“Young?” you finished for him, “I know. I'm sorry. If I could change it I would. But unless we find a time machine out here I think we're stuck the way it is.”

“I just worry,” he was suddenly serious, brow furrowed, “You know, when we tell Ellie...she might think it's weird. I mean, she sees you kind of like an older sister, doesn't she? I don't want her to think I'm being a creep or something. That's half the reason it took me so damn long to...” he gestured between the two of you, “...do this.”

You stared at him for a second and grimaced.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, “What's that face?”

“Well...um...Ellie actually knows.”

His hands dropped from you like he'd been shocked, “She what?”

--

“The whole time,” he said for about the tenth time as you walked with him down the overgrown path back to the cabins, both of you now fully dressed, “She knew the whole time.”

“I think that's a bit hyperbolic,” you patted him on the shoulder reassuringly, trying to keep up with his fast pace, “She didn't really know anything, and to be fair even I didn't really know what exactly this was between us until about an hour ago, so I mean...”

“I thought she had PTSD or something,” he gritted through his teeth, “I thought she was traumatized.”

“Turns out she's just a matchmaker.”

He rolled his eyes, “Please stop trying to make this funny, it's not funny.”

“Joel, slow down,” you grabbed his arm, “Stop.”

He huffed to himself but stopped in his tracks, spinning around to face you, “What?”

“This is a good thing,” you told him softly, trailing your fingers along his forearm soothingly, “Yes, it's surprising, yes it's kind of annoying that she never said anything, but wouldn't you rather this than the alternative?” your hand found his and squeezed it gently, thumb caressing his knuckles which now felt smoother from the soap and warm water, “She's not traumatized, she's okay.”

You watched his expression soften as you soothed him, slowly nodding at you and closing his eyes when you reached your hand up to stroke his face gently. He smiled at your touch, hand resting tenderly on your wrist as your finger traced the shape of his lips.

"Don't ruin today," you said quietly with a reassuring smile, "You just kissed me in a hot spring, let's focus on that."

He smirked, "Did a lot more than kiss you."

You bit back a laugh and started walking again, shaking your head, "You really are sixteen at heart, aren't you?"

--

Ellie had already finished her lunch by the time you both got back to the cabins. Admittedly, you would have gotten there sooner if Joel hadn't kept stopping every so often to admire you, appraise you, thumb your cheekbone and kiss you softly in the middle of the path. You weren't complaining though. You'd been waiting to see this side of Joel for so long, knew it was there somewhere beneath the surface just waiting to have a reason to come out. Turns out, that reason was you.

"How was the bath, Joel?" Ellie asked from her place at one of the picnic tables, journal open in front of her.

"Very... informative," he replied, voice a bit stiff, making direct eye contact with her.

She stared back at him in confusion, "Well that's ominous."

"I told him," you explained quietly beside him, and you watched guiltily as her jaw dropped.

"What the fuck?" she slammed her journal shut and extricated herself from the picnic table, then stomped over to you with a hellish glint in her eye, "Why would you do that?!"

"Ellie, I'm-"

"Look, I'm sorry if I crossed a line but you're the one who asked," she interrupted, face going redder and redder with every word, "I was gonna keep it to myself, I told you it was none of your business."

Your brow furrowed in response, confusion settling on your face. Joel, who obviously hadn't been there for the conversation, immediately began to defend you.

"She did the right thing," he said firmly, although his voice had become a bit more tender at Ellie's sudden surge of emotion, "I have a right to know."

"Neither of you have a right to know anything," Ellie growled, clutching her journal to her chest and backing away from the both of you, "Jesus, I may have been born after the outbreak but I thought this kinda shit was supposed to be private until the person themselves actually wants to talk about it."

Joel froze then, making a similar puzzled face as you, "Wait, what?"

You slowly began to put your hand up, lips parting, "Hold on, I think we're talking about two different things here."

Ellie's angry expression faltered, looking from Joel to you and back again in total bewilderment. She held her journal even tighter against herself and realization suddenly doused you like a bucket of cold water.

"Oh my god, Ellie, no. I didn't tell him about that," you gestured to her journal, shaking your head frantically, "I told him that you knew about us."

She froze, lips forming a small "o" as her grip loosened on her journal. The anger was gone but her skin had somehow gone even redder, "Oh."

"I'm confused," Joel said, eyebrows raised.

"And you're gonna stay that way, sorry," you winced, patting his arm carefully and trying not to feel too bad when he frowned at you, "Ellie and I, we talked about, uh, two completely different things earlier. She thought you were mad at her for...something else."

"For what?" Joel suddenly looked concerned, peering over at her again, "What else should I be mad about?"

"You actually wouldn't be mad about the other thing," you said quietly, eyeing Ellie again. Her eyes had begun to fill with tears and she was still standing there quite dejectedly, "It's just personal, girl stuff. Nothing to worry about."

"He might get mad," she suddenly said, biting on her lip and giving you a worried look, "He's old."

"Hey-" Joel began but you put your hand up again to stop him, shaking your head.

"He would never be mad about that, Ellie. Trust me," you took a few steps toward her and opened your arms a bit, "I'm not mad, am I?"

She nodded slowly, the tears fading before they'd had a chance to spill over, "That's true."

You closed the distance between the two of you and hugged her tenderly. It was the first time you'd actually shown her any physical affection; you'd been too scared to cross her boundaries before, worried it would trigger something deep within her about David. Obviously, those worries no longer existed.

She buried her face in your jacket, sniffling a bit, "This is so embarrassing," she whispered, voice muffled.

"Hey, it's okay," you whispered back, quiet enough so only she could hear you, "What you're feeling is totally normal, believe me," you pulled back a bit to look at her again, hand coming up to cup her face, "I only yelled earlier because you took me by surprise, you know that right?"

"I know," she nodded, "And I know I shouldn't have been looking at you. It's just...it's not like I'm ever gonna see another pair of boobs out here in the middle of nowhere. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

You laughed, rolling your eyes, "I get it, but yeah, no more looking at me like that, okay?" you scrunched up your nose, "It's not appropriate, I'm sorry. Not because I'm a girl but because I'm an adult. But after all this is over I'm sure you'll find a girl who will actually let you look at her boobs."

Her skin, which had faded back to a gentle pink as you'd spoke, suddenly surged a bright red again, and she began to pull away from your hug, "Okay, no more boob talk please," she groaned, "This is way too awkward for me to handle."

You chuckled and released her, stepping away and turning around to see Joel still standing there with a look of pure confusion etched all over his face. You walked back over to him and gave him a pat on the shoulder fondly.

"What was that all about?" he asked both of you, "Are we fighting or not?"

"Not," Ellie responded with a small smile, "Definitely not."

--

At around one o'clock you'd already overstayed your welcome at the springs and knew you had to get back on the proverbial road again. As much as you would have loved to spend another night in the cabin with Joel, in an actual bed, you both knew that time wasn't on your side. You still had a ways to go before Salt Lake City and you all just wanted to get it over with, have all of this behind you and be able to go back to Jackson with a clear conscious.

"So since you're not actually traumatized, we could probably start traveling by road again," Joel suggested about three hours into the days' hike, giving Ellie a semi-irritated look.

"You're never gonna let this go, are you?" she replied with a groan, "Come on, I did you a favor and you know it."

Joel flushed red and you giggled quietly, walking ahead of them a bit and listening to their familiar banter. It was so natural to settle back into things, the step you and Joel had taken together not really changing anything in the grand scheme of your little trio. It was a relief to hear them laugh together, rib each other, knowing Ellie was okay and Joel was okay and that was all that mattered.

Your mind kept playing back the image of him standing in front of you a few hours ago, baring himself to you, not just his body but his soul and his heart. My girl, he'd murmured to you in the spring, don't want anybody but you, you hear me? Nobody.

You smiled to yourself; you were his now. His girl.

Ultimately you all decided to stick to the heavy cover of the woods, knowing it was better to be safe than sorry. It would take a bit longer to get to the city but at least there was a less likely chance of one - if not all - of you dying before you got there. The forest just made more sense, and with it came the promise of another cozy night under your sleeping bag with Joel. It would be different this time, and you shivered at the notion.

"So you guys are together now, right?" Ellie asked a few hours later when you'd set up camp again, sun setting as she poked at the fire the way Joel had showed her.

You looked at Joel, unsure of what to say, but to your satisfaction he gave you a soft smile and then said kindly to Ellie, "Yeah, kiddo. We are."

--

Ellie had never set up her sleeping bag as far away from you as she did that night. You and Joel both watched as she settled into it and turned to face away from you, almost completely out of your eyeline and hidden by the dark branches of the trees. You'd both protested, but she'd been stubborn in her decision.

"You deserve alone time," she'd said, addressing you both like you were children and she was the adult, speaking slowly and clearly, "I'm giving you guys a free pass to be gross, please just let me."

"This is the most awkward conversation I've ever had," Joel had grumbled, head in his hands.

"Everybody poops, Joel," she replied, purposely trying to sound wise.

You'd both looked at her in confusion.

"Everybody poops," she repeated, "And everybody has sex."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Joel had groaned, and practically kicked her away from the fire, "Go to bed."

"I'm just sayin'!" she'd called back with a grin, making her way over to her faraway sleeping spot, "I can't hear you over here!" and she was right; once she'd gotten into her sleeping bag you couldn't even hear the rustle of the fabric, let alone see what she was doing.

"God, she is so much like Sarah sometimes," Joel muttered beside you, and your eyebrows went up in surprise at his mention of her, turning to peer at him gently. He smiled crookedly at you, "She used to try to set me up on dates with her teachers."

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh, "And how'd that work out?"

"Let's just say I'd lost my sixteen year old mojo by then," he replied with a grin, "Made Tommy go to the parent-teacher conferences so I wouldn't have to face 'em."

"Really? You were that against dating?"

He shook his head, "I wasn't against datin', just not with Sarah's much older and very married teachers."

You shrugged, "Nothing wrong with someone who's older, I think it's sexy," you wiggled your eyebrows and he rolled his eyes, tossing a pebble into the fire.

"Well, anyway, I did go on a few dates - ones that she didn't set up - but nothing panned out," he looked over at you and smiled tenderly, "Was waitin' for you, I think."

You scoffed, "Oh, now that's bullshit."

"No, sweetheart, that's flirting," he replied, and suddenly his hand was on your thigh, palm warm and flat through the denim, "Woulda thought you knew that."

Immediately your eyes fell to his hand, swallowing tightly at how large it was on your thigh, thumb gently stroking you through your jeans. You looked back up at him and involuntarily licked your lips, feeling a cascade of tingles flutter through your body when you saw him looking right at you.

"...Are we gonna have sex?" you asked bluntly, voice quiet, and the expression on his face changed from sensuality to shock as he released your leg and groaned, covering his face.

"How do you both do that?" he asked, voice muffled by his palms, "How do you just say shit without any thought?"

You covered your own mouth, trying not to giggle too loudly. He was right, you and Ellie both did have a bluntness about you, a desire to say what you felt before really thinking about it. You supposed asking him directly if you were going to have sex was probably not the sexiest thing in the world, but you were desperately out of practice.

"I'm sorry," you laughed softly, "I'm just... I'm not good at this. It's been a long time since I've...." you shook your head, "Like, I'm talking years, Joel. That long."

He gave you a smile and dropped his hands again, placing his left back on your thigh and squeezing it gently, reassuringly, "We don't have to, it's okay."

"But you want to," you replied immediately, "So do I, I'm just worried that..." your gaze scanned the tree line until you saw Ellie's still form, far away in the darkness.

"Let's just get in bed," he breathed, squeezing your thigh again, "We'll figure it out."

You felt yourself blush, starting to feel slightly self conscious as the reality of what was about to happen - because it was about to happen, you knew that - set in.

"Sleeping bag, you mean," you replied a bit breathlessly.

He cringed, "Oh. Right."

You both laughed and any tension you'd been feeling melted away in the warmth of his voice, the softness in his expression. You trusted him so much, you knew that if you asked him not to touch you he'd listen, would respect you completely. Your ears burned red as you shuffled over to the sleeping bag and thought alternatively that if you asked him to touch you, asked him to do pretty much anything to make you feel good, he'd do that too.

The safety you felt climbing underneath the sleeping bag beside him was unmatched; the last time you'd slept this way under the stars you'd still just been friends, allies, protectors. Now you were his girl, and you guessed that meant he was your guy. The thought made you smile.

You cuddled in close beside him, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. There was no more hesitation, no more questioning what anything meant, you were his and he was yours. Simple. Sweet.

You laid like that for a while, both of you secretly waiting until you were sure Ellie was asleep, even though you doubted she'd be able to hear you at this distance. Still, you waited, and so did he, just holding each other and quietly enjoying each other's company.

"I want to," you eventually told him softly, burrowing yourself into him more and inhaling his scent, so much fresher after his bath in the spring, "Take it slow, though, okay? Be...be gentle."

"Of course," he murmured, kissing your head again, "I'll go as slow as you need me to, I swear. The second I do something wrong, you tell me."

The next few minutes were pure bliss on their own as you both undressed each other in the darkness, feeling for buttons and zippers and laughing breathlessly as you exposed yourselves to one another again. It was different this time, laying there getting naked instead of standing across from each other. You reveled in how strong he felt beneath you, the way his fingers trailed up and down your back like they had in the spring, pulling you closer.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and carefully flipped you so he was on top, his big hands gliding across your body hungrily, "Don't know how you're real."

His words made you feel so warm, so safe. Your hands came up and tangled in his hair as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, tongue dancing across the sensitive little bumps that trailed across the flesh. You whimpered and pulled slightly at his curls, soft and silky under your touch.

You felt one of his hands snake down your torso and cup you where you were completely bare for him, already wet and begging to feel him. His finger slipped between your soft lips, opening you up for him and rubbing circles into your clit gently. He continued to suckle at your breast, the scruff of his beard scratching against your skin in the best possible way.

He pulled back to look up at you, eyes hooded and lustful, "Feel good, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you breathed, voice breaking, "Feels so good, Joel. Need more."

He smiled at you knowingly and pressed one final kiss to your nipple, thumb tracing it lightly before he slowly began to shuffle downward beneath the sleeping bag. You watched in slight confusion before you realized where he was going, what he was doing.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered, and he looked up at you again.

"Gonna taste you, that okay?"

You nodded, cheeks flushing a bright red, "If you want to."

He chuckled like you'd said something funny and pressed a tiny kiss to your hip bone, wet and warm, "I want to, baby. I've wanted to."

You watched with your lip between your teeth as he disappeared beneath the confines of the sleeping bag. Part of you wanted to lift it up and watch, but you weren't sure you could handle that level of vulnerability, not when you were already feeling so shy. You just closed your eyes and leaned your head back, taking deep breaths and focusing on the way his lips pressed more gentle kisses back and forth along your hips, your belly, your thighs. He was so tender, so sweet, so loving, it almost made you want to cry.

When he licked a gentle stripe along your center you felt yourself involuntarily begin to fist the blanket beneath you in both hands, trying not to make too much noise as he tasted you for the first time. His breath was so hot against your pussy, his lips damp and tongue so wet as he circled the tip of it around your clit, one of his hands pressing flush against your stomach, the other snaking up to your inner thigh to hold you open. You shook in his grasp, feeling yourself drip down onto the blanket, shaking even more when he pulled back to lap up what he could from one of your thighs.

"Joel," you moaned softly, eyes still closed as you reached down and felt for his hair, tugging on it gently.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly, waiting for your reply before he went any further.

"Yes," you whined, "More." You didn't know where this demanding version of yourself had come from but he didn't seem to be complaining, chuckling softly to himself as he leaned back in to taste you again. He sucked gently on your clit, his beard pressed firmly against your throbbing hole. You couldn't see him but you knew he was probably covered in your wetness, practically dripping in it. The thought made you tense up, stomach tightening as you felt his tongue slip from your clit to your entrance and slowly prod its way inside.

"Oh, fuck," you groaned, fingers tightening in his hair, "Right there."

Listening to your encouragement, he pushed his tongue further inside of you, nosing your clit and holding you open a bit wider. He moved his hand from your stomach and brought it down to touch your pussy, slicking up his fingers before delicately pressing one in alongside his tongue. You writhed beneath his touch, pulling his hair probably a bit harder than you'd meant to, but he didn't seem to care.

"Gonna come," you said it apologetically, slightly ashamed as your legs squeezed his head between your thighs as he continued to fuck you with his tongue and finger, nose still pressed firmly against your clit like it belonged there. He didn't say anything, didn't stop, just kept licking and sucking and fingering until you were a complete mess, whimpering out his name hopelessly in the darkness. He kept going throughout your whole orgasm, only stopping when you told him to, completely overstimulated.

"You doin' okay?" he asked you softly, crawling back out from underneath the sleeping bag. You were right; his face was glistening with your release, beard wet and shining.

You reached up and touched his wet chin, scrunching up your nose, "I'm sorry."

He looked surprised by your words, "For what?"

"You're a mess," you replied, feeling embarrassed, "And I came too early."

He shook his head with a smile, "Sweetheart, the mess is the best part."

--

He didn't want you to suck him, admitting to you with a hint of guilt in his voice that he would end up coming before getting to actually be inside you, and you made a mental note to make sure you tasted him next time. It was only fair.

Plus, you wanted to. Very badly.

You now found yourselves laying underneath the sleeping bag again, him spooning you from behind and kissing your neck as he fingered you steadily, groin pressed firmly against you. It was so different now that you were both naked, his cock sitting large and heavy against your ass while the head bobbed back and forth along your lower back, leaving your skin sticky and wet. Your eyes were closed, a stream of whines and whimpers falling from your lips as he pushed a third finger inside and fucked you slowly, whispering things in your ear that you'd only dreamt of.

"Takin' my fingers so well," he murmured, kissing your ear tenderly and pulling some of your hair back and out of your face, "Gotta get you ready for my cock, don't wanna hurt you, baby."

"I need it," you moaned, leaning back into his touch, feeling his hand reach down to cup one of your breasts, "Joel, please, I'm ready."

"Okay, sweetheart," he whispered, "Lay on your back for me."

Lying there underneath the sky as Joel situated himself above you, seeing his gorgeous body silhouetted against the shape of the moon and the twinkling of stars, you knew in that moment that this was exactly where you were supposed to be. You watched with tender fondness in your eyes as he placed his hands above you, leaned down to press a soft kiss to your cheek, and aligned himself at your entrance.

"I'm so glad you exist," you breathed, wanting him to know how you felt, wanting him to feel it the way you'd felt it that first night.

"Baby," he breathed, brow furrowing as the head of his cock slipped inside you slowly, "I don't exist without you."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he pushed himself inside inch by inch, watching your face and making sure it felt good, making sure you wanted it. You'd never wanted anything more in your life than you wanted him at that moment.

He found a rhythm easily, fucking into you slowly and steadily while he cradled your head and peppered kisses all along your skin, showing you continuously how much he wanted you. In response you held him tighter, hands pressed flush against the width of his strong back as he plunged in and out of you. Every so often he'd make sure to look directly in your eyes, give you those special smiles he reserved especially for you, and whisper to you how good it felt.

"You're so big," you whispered, voice broken and weak, "So fucking big."

"Doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked, slowing a bit and peering down at you with concern, "Don't need me to stop?"

You shook your head frantically, "No, don't stop, feels so good, Joel," you looked up at him earnestly, feeling tears prick in your eyes, "Go faster, please."

He didn't need telling twice, picking up his pace, bringing down one of his hands to thumb your clit as he fucked you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You dug your nails into his back, eyes shutting tightly as he pounded into you over and over.

"Where do you want me to come, sweetheart?" he groaned in your ear, breath hot against your skin, "Tell me where, quick."

"Anywhere," you whimpered, biting down hard on your lip as he rubbed your clit furiously, wanting to get you there at the same time as him, "You can come anywhere you want, please."

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, "Tell me when you're coming, wanna come with you, baby."

"I'm close" you replied almost immediately, eyes going wide as you watched him start to fall apart above you, "Oh my god, don't stop, don't stop." you gripped his wrist tightly as he pressed harder on your clit, sending you over the edge, "Right there, Joel, right there."

You felt him pull out of you as you began to shake with your orgasm, body convulsing underneath him as he aimed his cock at your breasts and painted you with his come, marking you. Your eyes rolled back in your head, his fingers still stimulating your clit over and over until you'd finished.

"Oh my god," he groaned, deep and husky, the last few aftershocks wracking through his body as he released his fingers from your clit and brought them to his cock, slicking himself up as he fisted himself a few more times, small spurts of come still pulsing out of him and onto your chest.

"Fuck," you breathed in response, throwing your arms above you and laying there panting. The stars had somehow moved from the sky and were now permanently dancing behind your lids, white and sparkling every time you closed your eyes.

Your body was heavy and warm, relaxed and satisfied. You didn't want to move. And you didn't have to, feeling Joel wipe you gently with some of the toilet paper you'd stolen from the resort, taking extra care to make sure he cleaned your thighs as well. Eyes still closed, breath becoming more and more even, you felt him swipe the tissue along your breasts, slow and gentle.

"Almost done," he murmured, ripping off another piece and pressing it to your forehead where you realized you were practically drenched with sweat. He wiped it off and stroked your hair, kissing your temple lightly before settling in beside you. He pulled you in close, his body still naked and warm, heart pounding quickly against your back.

"I love you," you whispered into the darkness.

He pulled you impossibly closer, nosing your neck and breathing you in, "I love you," he whispered, like he'd said it a thousand times before.

And maybe he had.

truly can't believe there's only one part left of this 😭 i'll miss these cute losers. i hope you enjoyed!