(U)nhinged (S)mut (E)nthusiast

Side Writing Blog. I LOVE TO READ AND WRITE SMUT. You can either call me USE or HONEY (preferably). Proshipper. 28 years old. She/Her. Bi 🌈Sagittarius. Autistic/ADHD. she/her. Blk/🇭🇹. Requests Closed. Minors DNI. Main page: www.tumblr.com/blog/honey-flustered

[usetheeauthor]

Use’s Side Quest

18+ Only⚠️‼️

Mother Nature {About Me}

Enchanted Forest {Masterlist(s)}

Magic Wand {Characters I write for}

Pixie Dust {WIP(s)}

Dream Catcher {What I do & don’t write}

Fountain of Youth {Library}

Spirit Tree {Latest Work(s)} Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

🐇🍓Main Blog

🔪🩸Horror Writing Blog

[fewerstars]

“look at the stars”

| summary: you surprise Joel with a picnic in your garden for his birthday, and find out why the stars break his heart. Long story short he cries in your arms, you comfort him and then you know how it goes. 😛

| authors notes: I’ve been playing around with this idea for a while and I’ve been so excited to finish it, so I hope you enjoy!? (I think I’ve came to the conclusion that I just really like men crying…)

| content: fem reader, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), riding, sad!joel, gentle!reader, angst, reader comforts Joel, slight talk of loss, they do the tango outside 🫪, crying!joel, grief, yearning!joel, Joel can’t accept he’s enough, hurt/comfort

| word count: 5k

For as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been the same when it’s came to birthdays. He usually doesn’t want anything, he never causes a fuss; and in fact, he tries to avoid mentioning it all together. Of course when you started getting closer to him, you opposed to this. You told him you’re his ‘friend’ and you’re allowed, even obligated to surprise him every once in a while. Birthdays are supposed to feel special, even if he pretends not to care about them.

Of course, he thought the whole idea was ridiculous. So every time you’d mention it, he’d shrug and give you that familiar look, then say something like, “Y’know me, as long as I got you,” with that stupid grin of his that you absoloutely adore. You never fought him on it, just rolled your eyes and tried not to smile too much, muttering “Whatever, old man.”

But this year you wanted things to be a little different. Not anything over the top or dramatic like some huge surprise party, but a small gesture to show him that you love and value him. Just something to show him you’re grateful you have him, to spend another year by his side. Something intimate for the two of you. Candles, wine. Something like a picnic.

You wake up on and stretch, the morning light filtering softly through the curtains. After about half a second of consciousness, you realise it’s the day- Joel’s birthday, and the evening you’ve got planned for him is running through your head. You scramble out of bed, hastily flattening your sheets down and moving quickly to get dressed. Yes, you told yourself you won’t make today a big deal, but you can’t exactly help it, he never lets you do stuff like this.

Truth is, he doesn’t even know, so he couldn’t have stopped you either way. You open your drawers and throw on a little white dress, then start doing your makeup quickly. You can’t help but smile in excitement. Once you’ve puckered your lips up to put on some gloss, then unrolled your hair from those shitty rollers that do more harm than good, you start putting on your shoes.

Your eyes flick to the mirror to have a double take, and once you’re sure you’re ready, you grab your car keys and head outside the door. The drive to the shops is quick, you nod your head to the radio and tap your fingers on the steering wheel. The whole time there’s a feeling of warmth and excitement engulfing you. Eventually, you get to your first stop and park your car outside, getting on with the things you need to buy.

Once you’re done with the first shop, you get back in the car, tightening your seatbelt and starting to move through your list with a quiet smile.

At the bakery you pick up a fresh loaf of bread and a few croissants. In the supermarket you grab these gorgeous strawberries, his favourite herby cheese, and some olives. You tick off everything mentally, then shrug and run back to the aisle you just skipped. You grab a bottle of red wine, then run over and pick up some brownies.

Might aswell.

The last stop is the florist, where you get a small bouquet of white lilies and pink roses. Everything fits neatly into your tote bag once your list is complete. You load it into your trunk and drive home, already picturing the peaceful setup under the tree in your back garden. Back home, you unpack everything onto the kitchen counter, keeping it all neat and simple.

After a little while of humming along to the music in your headphones while you set everything up, you take a step back and admire the little picnic in your garden. You can’t help but crack a proud smile at yourself, for being able to actually pull this off.

You and Joel are a little complicated, you’re not together but you’re also not not together? After the outbreak, after meeting in Jackson, you established this strange relationship. He’s yours, and you’re his and you both know it, but neither of you have admitted it, whether because you’re scared or for some other unknown reasons. He runs errands for you, he helps you on patrols, he calls you baby. But for some reason or the other, you haven’t named what it is between you yet. You haven’t even had sex yet.

Joel arrives at your door eventually, and once you open the door with your glowing eyes and big smile, he knows something’s up. He sighs in acceptance as you pull him in, shutting the door behind him. “Baby-” he starts, hands on his hips in protest. You just wave your hand in his face, like you’re not willing to argue on this, then pull out a thin piece of fabric and hold it up to him.

“Turn around then” you giggle, and he has no choice but to do as you say. You stand on your tiptoes while you tie the blindfold around his eyes, before pressing a shy kiss to the nape of his neck, which is dusted with silver hairs. You pat him on the shoulder to say you’re done, and he straightens up with an amused grin, letting you guide him.

“Lord,” Joel chuckles, shaking his head as you drag him through the house, a blindfold over his eyes. You giggle, holding his arm tight, guiding his broad figure around tables and chairs to get to the glass double doors in your kitchen, the ones that lead to the back garden. “Baby I’m gonna trip,” he laughs, allowing you to push and shove him in the right direction.

“Shh you party pooper, we’re here” you pout, halting at the door, tugging at his sleeve to stop him from walking into the door, but probably a little too late.

“Ah shit” hisses Joel, rubbing his nose that just collided with the door. He steps back cautiously, a hand still over his face as he groans softly.

You clasp your hands over your mouth to stop yourself from bursting into laughter and say “Shit, I’m so sorry Joel,” as you choke through giggles. He shakes his head, just happy he can hear that sweet laugh of yours.

“That’s alright, can I take this stupid thing off my eyes now?” he grumbles as you watch him frown. You sigh, tugging on the sliding door to your garden.

“Okay, step” you instruct him, and he takes a wobbly step over the door. You laugh softly and tell him, “Yeah, whatever, you can take it off now” as he fumbles with the fabric and eventually pulls it off.

Joel blinks against the soft twilight that has wrapped the backyard in gentle shades of purple and gold. His eyes adjust slowly, landing on the corner you’ve created under the old oak tree. The stripy blanket lies on the grass, anchored by a few stones you’d gathered earlier. At the center, a jar holds the bouquet of lilies and roses you’d picked out for him, their petals releasing a sweet fragrance into the evening air.

Arranged around it are the fresh loaf of crusty bread, the golden croissants, and the bowl of glistening strawberries you’d bought. He lets his lips form a small smile when he sees the wedge of that specific cheese you know he likes, along with those fudgy brownies. The bottle of red wine sits beside two simple glasses, with the string lights you’d draped overhead now flickering in their reflection.

He stands motionless for a long moment, his broad frame silhouetted against the house. One large hand rises to rub the back of his neck, a gesture he has a habit of making when he’s caught off guard by affection. “What is all this?” His voice comes out low and gravelly, laced with that familiar mix of protest and underlying warmth.

You feel a rush of nervous excitement but step forward anyway, your white dress swishing softly around your legs. “Happy birthday, Joel. It’s not anything crazy or over the top. Just something small for- us. I really wanted tonight to be special for you.”

He exhales a long breath, shaking his head slowly, though the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, darlin’. I told you before—I don’t need fussin’ over. As long as I’ve got you, that’s enough.”

“I know you said that,” you reply gently, reaching out to take his hand. His palm is warm, rough from years of work, and his fingers close around yours without hesitation. “But I wanted to do it anyway. You deserve it- even if you say birthdays don’t matter.” Your eyes flick up to his softly as you ask, “Come on, sit with me?”

Joel holds your gaze for a beat, those deep brown eyes searching your face as if looking for a way out. Finding none, he nods with a fond sigh. “Alright. You win this one, bossy.”

You lead him across the grass to the blanket, watching with affection as he lowers himself down. His knees give a faint creak in protest, and he stretches his legs out in front of him, one boot heel digging slightly into the ground at the edge of the blanket. You settle beside him, smoothing your dress over your thighs, and reach for the wine. The cork releases with a satisfying pop, and you pour two glasses for you both, the rich aroma of berries filling the air between you as you hand him one.

You sit for a while, quiet and comfortable. You tear off chunks of the bread, spreading them generously with the cheese before offering bites to him. He accepts each one with a soft grunt of appreciation, his eyes lingering on your face more than on the food. You pop a strawberry into his mouth next, the juice staining his lower lip a faint crimson. Leaning in without thinking, you kiss it away, tasting the bright sweetness mingled with the salt of his skin.

“You’re spoilin’ me awful tonight,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, his expression softer than usual.

“Good,” you whisper back, smiling. “You work so hard all the time, Joel. You take care of everyone- let me take care of you for once.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest like distant thunder, and takes a slow sip of wine. From there, the conversation unfolds naturally, like it always does between you two. You tell him about your day in more detail- the quick drive with the radio playing his favorite old country songs, and the way the bakery lady had smiled knowingly when you mentioned it was for a special occasion.

He tells you snippets about his own day, about the young apprentice who nearly crushed his thumb off, and some more talk about contracting and buildings and bricks. You love listening to him talk about his day, and you watch him with love as he speaks, barely hanging on to the words he’s saying. His shoulders loosen visibly with each passing minute, the tension he permanently carries easing under your company.

As the sky shifts fully from twilight to dark blue, and the stars begin to show, you scoot closer to him until your knee rests warmly against his thigh. The air between you feels thicker now, charged with intimacy and the kind of quiet understanding that only comes from deep love. Joel sets his glass down carefully on the grass and turns toward you, one big hand coming to rest on your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Thank you,” he says after a while, his voice sincere and a little rough around the edges. “For all of this- the food, the flowers, the effort. Didn’t expect nothin’ like it, but it means more to me than I can explain baby.”

Your heart swells, pressing against your ribs. Baby. Unable to help yourself, you reach up and cup his stubbled cheek, feeling the familiar rasp under your palm, and before you know it, the words are slipping off of your tongue like honey. “I love you, Joel. So much.”

The words settle between you like a gentle spark. He goes completely still, his eyes widening slightly as they lock onto yours. Even though you’ve exchanged sweet words before, something about the care you put into this, the stars above and the vulnerability of the setting makes “I love you” land heavier. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

“Yeah?” he breathes, the single word cracking with raw emotion. In the next instant, his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you onto his lap with that effortless strength that always makes your breath catch. You settle across his thick thighs, your dress riding up slightly as his hands anchor firmly on your hips, holding you close like you’re something precious and fragile. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin, the faint floral notes of your perfume and the summer night air that clings to your locks.

“God, I love you too,” he murmurs, the words vibrating warmly against your collarbone. “So damn much it scares me sometimes. Don’ know what I did to deserve you baby.”

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers sliding into the silver curls at the nape of his neck, holding him just as tightly. His embrace grounds you, the steady beat of his heart thumping against yours. You stay like that for what feels like a long while, wrapped up in each others arms under the old tree. The string lights cast a soft golden glow over his shoulders as the faint breeze carries the sweet scent of the roses in the air.

Eventually, Joel shifts beneath you. He leans back a little, tilting his head upward to gaze at the sky. The constellations are clear tonight, scattered like diamonds across the dark canvas that’s the sky. His expression changes subtly- something distant and aching flickers across his weathered features as his eyes trace the familiar patterns. You watch him quietly, sensing the difference in his mood.

“Sarah used to love nights like this,” he says softly, almost to himself at first. “She’d bother me every night to take her outside with this little plastic telescope she’d saved up for. Knew all the constellations by heart- Orion’s Belt and shit.” His voice thickens noticeably, cracking with the weight of memory. “She loved the stars. So much. I’d forgotten how much I missed seein’ them through her eyes.”

You can see his eyes beginning to glisten as the fairy lights twinkle off them. What pains you is the fact that you know how hard he is on himself, how he’s trying so hard not to cry. Your own eyes sting in response, and so you cup his face gently with both of your hands, thumbs brushing tenderly over his jaw.

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice full of care. He doesn’t pull away, but his jaw clenches tightly, fighting against the rising tide. His broad shoulders tremble once, then again. You rub the nape of his neck gently to soothe him, fingers meeting his soft curls as your hands move up and down. “It’s okay Joel” you murmur softly, your breath warm against his skin. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”

He shakes his head softly, like he’s convincing himself more than anyone that he’s okay. “I’m fine, I just- I missed her y’know?” he asks, and his voice cracks. His eyes are threatening to let tears out, and he still doesn’t want to admit he’s in pain.

You can’t watch him hide from the world like this- hide from you. Gently, you move your hands to cup his face in both sides and whisper to him, “Joel, I’m here, just let it out.” At that, a teardrop rolls down his face as he blinks it away, but even then he’s shaking his head, wiping at his eyes nonchalantly. “Please Joel.” you whisper as you look into his brown eyes.

Finally, the dam breaks in quiet waves. His arms tighten around your waist as deep sobs roll through his chest, the grief buried for years finding release in the safety of this moment. You hold him through every croak, your fingers gentle and comforting in his hair, the other hand rubbing his back. He presses his face into your chest, his breath hot and uneven against you. Between his whimpers, you whisper reassuringly to him: “I’m right here,” and “You can talk to me,” pouring every ounce of gentleness you can into the words so he feels it.

The minutes stretch out, the quiet sounds of his crying blending with the rustle of leaves overhead. When the sobs gradually ease into shaky, uneven breaths, he finally lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed and glistening with grief, but there’s a clearer, lighter look in them now, as if a burden he’s been carrying has shifted ever so slightly.

“I don’t deserve any of this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Don’t deserve you. Not after all the ways I’ve failed.” You shake your head firmly but lovingly, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose, then each of his damp eyelids reverently. “I ain’t worthy of shit.”

Your lips brush softly over his wet eyelashes, over the last traces of his tears. “You do deserve this, Joel. You’re worthy of birthdays and picnics and stars and-” you pause to breath, exasperated. “You deserve the world baby, and I love you with everything in me.” You swipe your palms across his cheeks, gently drying the glistening trails that were his tears.

He lets out a shaky exhale and rests his forehead against yours. The air between your bodies feels heavy with everything you’ve shared- grief, comfort, love. Your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss that begins tender and reverent, full of all the things you haven’t managed to say yet. His lips are warm and slightly salty, tasting like tears.

Gradually, the kiss deepens, and his tongue brushes yours with need as his hands slide down your back, settling firmly on your hips and pulling you even closer against him. Your chest is pressed to his as he holds you, both muscular arms firm around you, covering you like a shield. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin.

When you finally pull back to part for air, foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling, Joel’s voice drops to a rough, but soft whisper that sends a shiver right down your spine. “Let me make love to you, baby.” he asks, eyebrows furrowed like he needs it.

“Yes,” you breathe immediately, your heart pounding hard. “I want you Joel.”

He captures your mouth again in an urgent kiss, his hands moving with purpose. With careful strength, he eases you back onto the blanket, the cool grass beneath you having a gentle contrast to the heat building between you. He hovers above you, his eyes shining with nothing but love. His calloused fingers trace the thin straps of your white dress, slipping them slowly down your shoulders one by one. He follows the path with his mouth, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone and the swell of your breasts until he tugs the fabric lower, and you’re bare to the cool night air.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs reverently, his mouth pressing wet kisses onto one of your breasts. His tongue licks softly, teasing and giving you attention until you arch up into him with a soft, needy moan. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as he gives the other breast the same devoted treatment- sucking gently, just enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

His free hand wanders lower, bunching the dress at your waist before lifting your hips to pull the garment off completely over your head, along with slipping your underwear down your legs. The cool breeze kisses your hot skin, but his body quickly chases it away as he settles his broad shoulders between your parted thighs.

He kisses a slow, worshipping trail down your body, to your stomach, your hips, the sensitive crease where your thighs meets where you need him most. When his mouth finally reaches your core, you gasp sharply at the first touch. He licks a long stripe up your folds, humming deeply in satisfaction at your taste. “So sweet f’me,” he groans softly, the vibration sending pleasure through you. He closes his eyes and lets out a soft groan, yearning for you. It’s like there’s nothing he needs more in this world than you- nowhere else he’d rather be than between your thighs.

His eyes meet yours, and without losing eye contact, he moves his hand until two thick fingers tap against your entrance, like he’s asking for permission. You nod, eyebrows knitted together in desperation, and gently, he presses them inside you, moving them deeper excruciatingly slowly. His own mouth falls open in awe, and he looks back up to watch you, curling his digits expertly to stroke your sensitive spot.

“Joel- oh, fuck,” you whimper, your hips bucking up instinctively into his face. His lips seal around your clit as he watches your euphoric expression, and he sucks with perfect, gentle pressure. He holds you steady with one powerful arm across your waist, sleeves rolled up, showing the dusting of grey hair across his forearm.

“That’s its dollface, just feel it,”His fingers pumping in a steady rhythm as his tongue works relentlessly faster. Pleasure coils tighter and hotter in your belly with every movement of his fingers.

He adds a third finger, stretching you impossibly while his mouth doesn’t move, like his mission is to make you break. Before you know it, your legs feel weak. “Ah fuck, Joel please-” you moan, hips shaking around his head.

All he does is whisper “Shh, I got you.” into your heat, pushing your leg down firmer with his free arm. “Let go f’me sweetheart.” His voice is low, coaxing you to let go.

Your first orgasm hits you intensely- walls clenching hard around his fingers while you cry out his name, your thighs trembling around his head. “Good girl,” he whispers into you. He doesn’t stop, easing the high with soft kitten licks through every wave until you’re shuddering, only moving back to give your nub a gentle kiss.

He crawls back up your body, pressing his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue. You moan into it, hands fumbling at his chest to get off his shirt. He helps you, pulling it off to reveal his broad, defined chest- covered with scars you know the stories of, and a trail of light hair leading downward.

Your palms roam over his chest greedily, and you can feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your hand. He unbuckles his belt quickly, pushing down his jeans and boxers together to reveal his heavy cock. It stands flushed and hard and you can’t help it when your lips part in desperation, seeing him already glistening. You wrap your soft hand around him, stroking slowly with your thumb swirling over the sensitive tip until he groans like he’s in pain, his hips twitching forward into your grip.

“Fuck baby, I ain’t gonna last,” he groans, voice strained with need as he hovers over you.

You smile up at him teasingly, guiding the glistening head of his cock to your slick entrance. He lowers himself, following through with it. “Joel, I need you, please.” you beg.

He locks at you, eyes full of emotion. “Look at me, darlin’.” As your gazes hold, he asks gently, “Are you sure you want this?” Your breath hitches and you nod your head desperately. His heart aches at your visible need. Finally, he takes hold of his throbbing length. “Alright, I gotcha sweetheart,” he says understandingly, “let me take care of you.” With extreme care, he starts to push in slowly, inch by thick inch.

He stretches you open with that burning fullness and all you can do is moan. You feel like he’s about to tear you apart. A low groan tears from deep in his throat as he bottoms out, filling you entirely. For a long, breathless moment he stays there, forehead pressed to yours, your hot breaths mingling. “I love you,” he whispers weakly. “So fuckin’ much.”

He begins to move, back snd forth while his tip consistently hits that sensitive spot. The blanket beneath you bunches beneath you with the power of each snap of his hips. You cling desperately to his back, nails clawing at his shoulders as waves of pleasure spark up your spine. He fucks you like it’s his job, and keeps going, his hand trailing to your face, the other braced onto your side to keep himself up. “Joel” you whine desperately, “I need you- I need more.”

The stars shine silently overhead, the cool night breeze a contrasting with the wet heat between you, where your bodies join. Joel bucks his hips into you purposefully, the hand on your face moving to your mouth.

“Look at me,” he rasps again, voice rough. You obey, locking eyes as he thrusts, faster. The raw emotion in his gaze tightens something deep in your chest. He hooks his thumb into your mouth, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he fucks you. “That’s it baby, suck.”You close your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the digit as the rhythm of his thrusts grow more urgent. The obscene sound of skin slapping on skin fills the night air, mixing with your moans and whines.

Suddenly, he shifts angles, hooking one of your legs higher over his hip. The new position lets him hit that spot inside you, making you moan with devastating pleasure. Your walls flutter around his length, releasing slick as he moves in and out.

“Attagirl,” he encourages through gritted teeth, a bead of sweat formed on his brow. “Let go while I’m deep inside you baby,”

You shatter again with a broken cry, but around his dick this time. Joel lets go of a few strained curses, groaning as his thrusts become irregular while he chases his own peak. He bucks his hips into you a few more times, his thrusts powerful and deep and then buries himself as far as possible, closing his eyes desperately. “Fuck- I’m gonna-” he croaks, hips faltering as he repeats your name over and over again desperately. “Baby- you feel too good, please-” he begs.

You whimper, overwhelmingly full with his final deep thrusts, and noticing that he’s close, finally say, “Mhm, let go inside me.” At that, noises you’ve never heard from him escape his lips, and he breaks- spilling hot and thick cum inside you with a long, groan of your name. His hips twitch through the aftershocks, filling you completely as he kneads one of your breasts, desperate for anything to hold on to.

He collapses carefully over you, supporting his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you while he tucks his face into the curve of your neck. You stroke his back in lazy circles as you both come down from your high, hearts pounding together in sync. After a few minutes, he rolls onto his side, pulling you flush against his chest.

His fingers trace affectionate patterns along your spine while you nuzzle your face against himc, pressing soft kisses to his collarbone and shoulder. “Best damn birthday I’ve ever had,” he murmurs eventually, his voice sleepy as his hands move down to rest on the swell of your ass.

You smile against his warm skin. “We’re not even done yet, old man.”He lets out a soft, rumbling chuckle that vibrates through both of you as hands begin to wander again. One hand rests on your ass, the other reaching to hold your breast and teasing the nipple until it peaks under his thumb.

Fresh heat stirs low in your belly, after you’d thought it impossible considering how hard he just fucked you. You tease him right back though, nipping at his jawline, biting and licking at his stubble. Soon he’s helping you sit up on him while he lays back. You sink onto him with a relieved sigh, pressing both hands to his chest to ground yourself. This round is slower and more loving, his hands maps every inch of you reverently: the dip of your waist, the valley between your breasts. When you begin grinding, he praises you, knowing it’s what you need right now. “That’s it sweet girl, just like that.” he coos, letting you take the lead and give yourself the pleasure you need.

Much later, when the night air turns cooler and the sky is dark, Joel gathers you into his arms lovingly and carries you inside the house, with your legs wrapped securely around his waist. In the bedroom, he lays you down on the bed with gentle care, like you’re an angel laying beneath him. The third time is lazy and unhurried. Your bodies move in perfect, familiar rhythm, fingers intertwined, soft gasps filling the quiet darkness. It’s like you’re savouring the pleasure, wanting it to last forever as you gasp breathlessly against eachother mouths.

You eventually fall asleep wrapped in his arms, his steady heartbeat like a lullaby against your ear. The smell of vanilla, sex and him linger warmly on your skin as you lay, intertwined together.

When morning light spills through the curtains the next day, you open your eyes to find Joel propped on one elbow, watching you with lovingly, a seriousness in his gaze. His fingers trace lazy circles along your cheek and jaw, his expression relaxed, unlike anything you’ve seen in a long time.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, meaningful. “For last night. For seein’ all of me- the good and bad parts. For lovin’ me anyway.”

You lean up to kiss him, sweet and full of promise. “Always, Joel. Happy birthday.”

He pulls you closer into his chest, and in the gentle morning glow, surrounded by his warmth and the lingering memories of stars, you know this is only the start of many more birthdays you’ll make sure he never spends alone.

[mrsnanamiller]

Show me how bad you can hurt me [series]

Chapter 7 - Can you save me from this darkness?

[AO3] [Wattpad] [fic masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Chapter Summary:

You got a glimpse of who Tommy Miller used to be... and who he still could become beneath all the pain. Your hope is not enough to comfort a world that refuses to stay gentle for long.

Fic Summary: Four years after the outbreak, Joel and Tommy Miller are hardened smugglers in the Boston QZ: mean, violent, and willing to do whatever it takes to survive. When they’re paid an obscene amount to smuggle you across the ruined country to Columbus QZ, they didn't ask what secrets you carry to be worth that much. They just expect an easy job. You're supposed to be just cargo. They will soon discover this cargo has teeth… and the power to make even the worst men start to crack.

Tags: Tommy Miller x Reader, Dark!Tommy, Raider!Tommy, Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Stockholm Syndrome, Dark Romance, Tommy is mean but not too much, Tommy Miller Fanfic, Enemies to Lovers, Tommy was corrupted by Joel, Vaginal Sex, Fireflies (The Last of Us), Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence

wc: 9k

2 years earlier

“Come on, pumpkin. Path is free.”

Your uncle extended his hand, helping you climb over the crumbled section of wall. He stayed right beside you, guiding your steps until you were safely on the other side of the debris. He was always this careful and patient, never making you feel weak for needing the help.

But you hated how much you still needed it. By now, most survivors had hardened into something capable. They could run, climb, fight, disappear into shadows. You had none of those skills. Your heart had always made you fragile, and the shame of it clung to you like a second skin. You told yourself it was okay… that your brain could make up for what your body couldn’t do. But deep down, you still felt embarrassed.

Your parents had tried to shield you from everything. Your uncle, on the other hand, had done the opposite. He dragged you into the world anyway, on every errand, every risky supply run, every quiet mission to find people who might sympathize with the rebellion they were planning against FEDRA. He exposed you but stayed close, ready to catch you if you fell.

As you both slipped outside the Denver QZ walls, a chill ran down your spine. Out here the threats weren’t just FEDRA patrols. Infected. Raiders. Hungry survivors.

Your uncle noticed the way your shoulders tensed.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging your arm. “We’ve done this before. We’ll be fine. You trust me?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He broke into a warm, familiar laugh. “You, of all people, should be the least afraid out here. Don’t stress. This one will be easy.”

You assumed it was another supply run or a search for potential sympathizers. That’s what these runs usually were. But today your uncle hadn’t told you the purpose, and something in his tone felt… different.

You walked longer than usual, moving carefully through the ruins of what used to be Denver, sticking to shadows and overgrown streets. Eventually, he led you to a half-collapsed coffee shop.

Your uncle turned to you with a small, mischievous smile.

“Today’s not a mission,” he said quietly. “It’s a surprise. For you.”

Your heart lifted with sudden excitement as you stepped inside the wrecked place. It used to be one of those warm, cozy cafes, with mismatched armchairs, shelves full of worn books, and tables where people would play cards. A few faded board games were scattered across the floor among broken mugs and overturned chairs.

He moved to the corner of the space, and reached for a guitar resting in a chair. It was still beautiful and intact. He handled it to you.

“Wow… amazing!” you breathed, tilting it and checking its details.

“Think you still remember how?”

You sat on a dusty old chair while your uncle dragged another one over, positioning himself in front of you.

“Let’s find out,” you whispered, a bright smile breaking across your face. “I’ll try an easy one first.”

You started playing Blowin’ in the Wind.

“Of course it would be Bob Dylan.” Your uncle said, smiling.

The first minute felt messy, your fingers clumsy after so long, but soon the muscle memory came back. By the end of the song, the notes flowed smoother, more confident.

“Well, you’re a natural,” he said softly, pride clear in his voice. “Try your favorite now.”

You smiled, heart swelling, and switched into Girl from the North Country. The melody filled the quiet, ruined coffee shop. When the last note faded, you looked up at him.

Your uncle watched you with soft eyes.

“That was beautiful, pumpkin. Really beautiful.”

“Thank you…. This was so sweet. Bringing me here. Thank you, uncle.”

He gently took the guitar from your hands and set it aside. Then he looked at you for a long moment, something tender and heavy in his expression.

“You know what day it is today, pumpkin?”

You thought for a second, then shook your head.

“Hmm. No.”

“It’s the anniversary of your first heart surgery.”

“Oh! You still remember that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “How could an uncle forget the day his favorite girl came back from surgery stronger than before?” He paused, smiling. “I remember seeing your tiny feet kicking the blanket away the second you woke up. You were complaining the blanket was itchy, the color was ugly, and it was too hot. Even half-drugged and fresh out of surgery… you were already full of attitude.”

He laughed quietly, reaching out to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Always a pain in the ass, you mean,” you teased.

“That too,” he laughed softly. “And then came the second surgery. And the third.” He paused. “And here you are.”

His voice grew thicker with emotion.

“To think of those long hours in the waiting room… holding your mom’s hand, standing beside your dad, praying for the doctor to come out and say you made it. Those moments felt like pure torture.” He swallowed hard. “Little did we know… that those surgeries wouldn’t just save your life. That one day, they might help save everyone else’s too.”

You smiled, shy and emotional, a lump forming in your throat.

“You’re the hope for this world, pumpkin,” he said, eyes shining. “I hope you know that. I hope you never forget your purpose… you’re going to be the one who brings the light back.”

Your breath caught. Your heart sped up. In that moment, you felt the weight of it.

Your uncle reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pendant. He held it up so you could see it clearly. On one side was a delicate firefly etched into the metal. On the other, your name and the number 00001.

“We’re making it official now,” he said, voice full of quiet pride. “We finally have enough people. We’re a real revolutionary group.”

Your eyes widened.

“Oh! And… why didn’t my parents tell me?”

“Well, you know them… always busy with theories. And anyway, I wanted to surprise you myself.” He smiled. “We decided to call ourselves Fireflies.”

“My favorite thing when I was a kid,” you giggled, eyes misty.

“Of course it is. And you are the first one. As it should.”

“That’s… so sweet. Thank you, uncle,” you whispered, lowering your head.

He carefully placed the pendant around your neck.

“We’re going to do amazing things for the people,” you said softly.

Your uncle’s eyes shone with pride.

“I have one more surprise.” He grinned.

“We found a lead on your doctor. The lists we stole from the QZ say he could be in either Boston or Baltimore QZ. It’s a long way… but it’s a real clue.”

Your face lit up with pure excitement. “Really?! No way! That’s… incredible!”

He laughed at your reaction, then reached for the guitar again. He strummed a few gentle chords, playing an old, familiar song the two of you used to sing together.

You closed your eyes, letting the music wrap around you like a blanket from another life.

You were about to leave when your uncle stopped.

“One last thing.” He walked over to the dusty bookshelf and pulled out a worn one, handing it to you with a gentle smile. “For Whom the Bell Tolls. My favorite Hemingway.”

“Ohh, nice! I can finally read it myself… What’s this one about again?”

Your uncle expression softened as he recalled the story.

“It’s about an american sent to fight with a group of guerrillas during the Spanish Civil War. His mission is to blow up the enemy plans, but it’s probably a suicidal mission.”

He paused, looking at you meaningfully. “By the time the story begins, he’s already exhausted. Tired of the killing, of the corruption he’s seen on both sides. Tired of watching good people turn into monsters just to survive. But then… he meets a girl. And in just a few short days, something changes in him. For the first time in years, he chooses something good. He chooses love. He chooses to protect someone instead of just destroying things.”

Your uncle smiled gently.

“Anyway. It’s much less about the war, and more about a man who’s seen too much darkness… but still decides that life and love are worth fighting for.”

---

When you heard the soft click of the basement door being unlocked, you were already awake. You expected to see Tommy stepping down the stairs.

But he didn’t. The door remained closed, just unlocked now.

You lay there for a long moment, eyes still closed, letting the remnants of the night wash over you. Your body felt… different. Deeply satisfied in a way you hadn’t known in years. You had slept better than you had in weeks.

But your mind was a storm of confusion.

Because… what the fuck happened? You wanted to prove yourself - and to Tommy as well -  that he was able to demonstrate empathy and care. Damn, you wanted so badly for him to take care of you. You saw the way he cared about Joel, how he checked on his brother pain even Joel pretending he didn’t need, he went through hell to get medications… you just wanted to be seen that way, worthy of it too.

But last night? That was definitely not the kind of care you expected.

Not that you would complain. Being on Tommy’s hands had softened every muscle, left a pleasant dizziness in your limbs, and quieted the constant ache in your chest for a few precious hours. You felt re-energized, glowing.

A slow, secret smile touched your lips as memories returned. The way his dark eyes had devoured you, worshipful. But also, the way he allowed himself to feel again.

But the smile faded as reality settled back in. Did he really?

It was like pleasuring you was both a gift and a punishment. Like he felt he belonged there, touching you, making you moan… but didn’t believe he deserved to feel good too. Like he was starving to make you feel good… but he hadn’t allowed himself any release.

Your heart twisted and things were spinning in your head.

The colorful unicorn brooch image comes back. The way he had gone against his own instincts just to do something good.

And then…. the book.

From all the proofs you had used to convince yourself that this man deserved a second chance, this was the final, undoubtable one.

For Whom the Bell Tolls. Lying on the bedside table.

Like a quiet cry for help.

You picked it up again, flipping through the pages slowly. The connection to your uncle made your chest ache with nostalgia… but the parallel to Tommy ached in a different way.

You closed the book, pressing it against your chest.

You waited a few more minutes before slowly climbing the stairs. When you reached the top, Tommy was standing buttoning a fresh shirt. His hair was damp, dark strands clinging to his forehead and neck.

Your eyes met. The gaze lingered too long. There was an immediate thick and awkward air between you. Neither of you spoke. His expression was tight, distressed, exhausted. You could tell he hadn’t slept at all. Had it been nightmares again? Or… had he been thinking about you?

You sat down quietly at the kitchen, watching every movement. Waiting him to say something.

Tommy avoided your eyes. He moved stiffly, grabbing a glass of water, more medication, and some food before disappearing into Joel’s bedroom. He returned a minute later, still refusing to look at you, like he was ashamed of his own actions.

You tried to break the suffocating silence.

“Showered, Thomas?” you said lightly. “What a miracle.”

Tommy gave you a bothered, almost pained look.

“Helped Joel shower,” he muttered. “Thought a cold one might bring the fever down. He’s burning up… started vomiting a few hours ago. Not sure what’s happening.” He stopped mid-motion, as if realizing he didn’t own you explanations.

No... No, no, no.

Two sips. That was all Joel had taken. It wasn’t supposed to hit him hard.

Seeing Tommy this worried hurt even more than thinking of Joel suffering. The guilt twisted violently in your stomach.

“But.. how’s the leg?” you asked carefully, trying to keep your voice steady. “Have you seen it? Is it that bad?”

“It’s bad,” Tommy answered, voice rough. “But he’s been through worse. I think it’s something else.” He paused, clearly uneasy. “I don’t know.”

You fought to control the rising panic.

“Antibiotics take time. It might be at least two days before any improvement. Maybe his immune system was already weak. Maybe it was something he ate.” You speak, too fast.

Tommy stood by the sink, hands braced against the counter, his back to you as he stared out the window.

You continued quickly, as you tried to fill the silence and hide the guilt clawing at you.

“If it’s something stomach-related, maybe we can find some medicine. Or herbs… peppermint tea, ginger, chamomile… those usually help settle the stomach, right? Don’t we have any here? Or maybe in one of the neighboring houses? I’m sure tea isn’t something people usually scavenge for, we might fi—”

“I should have never done that yesterday,” Tommy’s voice cut through yours, low and heavy. He kept his back to you for a long moment, shoulders tense.

“I’m… I’m not this kind of man.”

He swallowed hard, clearly struggling to get the words out. You stopped talking, watching him carefully.

“I’ve done a lot of awful things in my life,” he continued, voice rough and quiet. “But this… That’s… that’s never been me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Wait.” You cut him off, almost laughing in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy turned his head toward you, surprised by your reaction.

You stood up slowly and walked closer to him, stopping just a few steps away.

“Let me see if I got this right,” you said, voice laced with disbelief. “You’ve drowned me, punched my ribs, wrecked my face,” you pointed at your still-red eye, “and finally, broke my fingers… but that’s what you’re apologizing for? That’s hilarious, Tommy. Actually hilarious.”

He twisted his mouth and tapped his fingers nervously against the sink.

“No, Thomas,” you continued. “You don’t get to feel like you used me. If anything, I used you.”

You step closer. “And for the record… I expect you to finish what you started.”

Tommy turned fully toward you, puzzled. You were close enough to see every detail, the faint scar above his eyebrow, the way his pupils had blown wide, the tension in his jaw.

“Why?” His voice was rough, almost cracking. His eyes landed on your bruised eye and lingered there with visible pain. “Why would you feel any attraction to me after everything you’ve seen me doing? After everything I’ve done to you?”

You held his gaze.

For a moment, all you could focus on were the faint freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Your eyes drifted down to his lips, before slowly rising back to his.

“…Have you read it before?” You asked softly but urgently. “The book you brought me. Did… Did you choose it on purpose?”

He let out a small laugh and shook his head.

“Do I look like a man who reads fucking Hemingway?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation.

He faltered for a second, swallowing hard. “Where are you going with this?”

“You asked me why,” you whispered. “You already know why.”

You stayed close, enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“Because you’re not this.” Your voice softened, almost tender. “I like you. I like Tommy. The real Tommy... The one you keep trying so hard to bury.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers lightly down his forearm. Tommy caught your hand immediately, placing his rough palm over yours, holding it firmly against his arm. He didn’t push you away. He simply held you there, torn between pulling you closer and pushing it away.

“Tommy is not the man who broke my fingers,” you continued, gripping his forearm tighter. “The real Tommy is the man who played Bob Dylan for me. The man who’s been trying to redeem himself in small acts of kindness to me. Tommy is the man who risked himself to save a family he doesn’t know... who’s desperately trying to do good, even when it goes against every instinct he has now.”

Tommy’s throat worked as he swallowed, clearly fighting to keep himself together.

“You’re sick, woman. You’re sick and out of your damn mind.”

You continued, voice steady and full of quiet fire. “You still have a chance to be better. We all do. The Fireflies-"

“Stop.” Tommy’s voice suddenly turned sharp, cutting you off. His expression hardened instantly. “Just stop. I can’t hear any more of that bullshit. Not today.”

He tried to pull away, but you dug your nails into his arm, holding him in place.

“I need to go to Baltimore QZ, Tommy. This is bigger than you and me. You can’t just hand me over to Kevin in Columbus. Please… I’m begging you.”

He yanked his arm free with a frustrated growl and stormed into the living room. He started pacing, clearly trying to put distance between you.

You took a shaky breath. It was pointless.

“Can I have a shower?” you asked quietly.

Tommy huffed, clearly irritated. “You and your damn showers.”

“Can I?”

He moved to his pack and started rummaging through it, getting ready to leave.

“Later,” he muttered. “I’m heading out to look for more medicine for Joel.” He walked back toward you and grabbed your arm, pulling you toward the basement. “Come on.”

You anchored your feet, refusing to move. “No, no, please. Don’t lock me there during the day. Let me go with you. Let me get out of this house. I’ll behave, I promise. I won’t try anything.”

Tommy stopped. He stayed silent for a long moment, jaw tight, clearly weighing his options. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pulled your wrists fiercely toward him.

He fumbled in his pocket, took out the small key, and unlocked the cuffs.

“I’m trusting you,” he said, voice low and deadly serious as he shoved the cuffs into his own pocket. “But you better not try any fucking tricks. I’m not joking.”

You simply stared down at your free hands for a moment, feeling the sudden lightness, the quiet thrill of trust. Then, slowly, you lifted your gaze, dragging it up his chest, his throat, until you met his eyes.

Something bold and electric sparked inside you. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his. Your chest molded to his, hips brushing. Tommy stiffened, but he didn’t pull away.

His hands eventually rose, settling tenderly on the small of your back. His palms were large and warm, pulling you even closer, fingers pressing into your spine. For several long seconds, you simply held each other that, bodies glued together, breathing the same air.

Your faces were inches apart. You looked at his lips, then back into his eyes, voice barely a whisper.

“Kiss me.”

Tommy’s breath hitched. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering there.

Then he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he muttered.

His hands tightened on your lower back for one last second, and then firmly pushed you forward toward the door.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice strained. “Before I change my mind and lock you.”

You huffed in frustration, but quickly slipped on your boots, wincing slightly as your still-sore feet settled inside them. They were healing, but every step reminded you of the long days barefoot on the road. Without a word, you followed Tommy out the door.

He was still limping, though he did his best to hide it. You walked side by side in heavy silence, passing several abandoned houses along the quiet street.

“Aren’t you going to check these?” you asked, nodding toward the buildings.

“I already cleared all these blocks yesterday,” he answered curtly, eyes scanning the surroundings. “Nothing useful left.”

Tommy guided you through the familiar gaps in the barriers you used to slip in the neighborhood. You moved carefully, staying low and alert. After some time, you came across three infected slumped in a sleepy, half-dormant state against an old fence.

Tommy instantly moved in front of you, shielding your body with his own. He pointed silently toward a cluster of rusted metal bins a few feet away. You obeyed quickly, ducking behind them.

You watched, heart racing, as he approached the first infected from behind with deadly silence. In one fluid motion, he sliced its throat. The creature barely made a sound before collapsing. He did the same with the second, then the third almost graceful in his violence.

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and unease at how skilled he was. How lethal.

“Let’s go,” he muttered.

You slipped out from behind the bins and followed him.

You moved in careful silence from house to house. Tommy always entered first, scanning every room with sharp eyes for any threat before allowing you to step inside.

The first six were empty, stripped clean long ago. Nothing but dust, broken furniture and smell of decay. Tommy’s limp grew more noticeable with every step.

When you reached the seventh house Tommy noticed the heavy door in the basement. A bunker.

He raised a hand, signaling you to stay back. He drew his knife, lifted the lantern, and slowly opened the hatch.

The beam of light revealed shelves packed with supplies. But in the far corner, two clickers stood motionless, heads twitching slightly, their grotesque fungal growths catching the light.

Tommy closed the door with agonizing slowness, not making a sound.

“Shit… shit,” he whispered.

“What?” you asked.

“Two clickers. The place is full of supplies, but it’s not worth it.”

“Can’t you kill them?” you pressed. “You did it with the ones outside.”

Tommy shook his head, voice low and serious. “Clickers are different. They’re blind, but they hear everything. The space down there is too tight, there’s no room to dodge if I miss.”

“Well, just shoot them.”

“One gunshot and we’ll bring every infected in a mile radius down on us. We’re not risking it. Let’s go.”

He turned and started walking away.

You followed for a few steps… then stopped.

Your eyes lingered on the closed bunker door. So much medicine. So many supplies. Tommy was already limping badly, and Joel was getting worse. You made a decision.

When Tommy stepped outside the house, you quietly doubled back.

It took him nearly a minute to realize you weren’t behind him anymore.

“Fuck—!” he hissed, spinning around. Panic flashed across his face as he rushed back inside the house, gun drawn.

He found you just as you were climbing out of the bunker. A heavy box of medications in one hand and a sealed box of energy bars in the other.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he growled, voice low but furious as he slammed the bunker door shut behind you with his boot. “Are you trying to get us killed? What the hell were you thinking? I told you it wasn’t safe!”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, voice steady.

He grabbed your arm violently, yanking you toward the front door and out of the house.

“I told you those clickers were too dangerous in a tight space.” he hissed as he dragged you down the street. “One wrong move and we’d both be dead. What the fuck is going through your head?!”

He didn’t let go of your arm, pulling you roughly along, jaw clenched tight with anger and lingering fear. After a few more steps, he suddenly stopped, spun you around, and gripped your shoulders firmly, forcing you to face him.

“Why?” he demanded, eyes dark and intense. “Why the hell would you do something that stupid?”

“I can be real silent,” you said. “Besides… you forget I have nothing to lose.” You pulled the collar of your shirt down enough to show the long, faded scar across your chest. “I don’t know how much longer this thing will work. And if I’m not going to Baltimore, then it’s just a matter of time until I die pointless, anyway.”

Tommy stared at the scar for a long second, then back up at your face. He looked irritated, furious… and for a moment, completely speechless.

Without another word, he snatched the boxes from your hands. He quickly opened both of them and dumped the contents into his own backpack, slinging it over his shoulder with more force than necessary.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he growled. “If you ever get bitten, I’ll leave you behind to turn into one of those things. That was fucking stupid.”

You let him walk ahead. Once he was a few steps away, you spat back:

“Fuck you. I did it for you. Because you care so much about your stupid brother, who doesn’t even deserve it. And for me… he could die and rot right now!”

Tommy spun around, furious, fists clenched as he stormed back toward you.

You widened your eyes, but something in the house beside you suddenly caught your attention.

“Look at that!!” you exclaimed, pointing excitedly before bolting toward the house.

Tommy swore under his breath and ran after you.

He entered right behind you, gun already drawn, scanning every corner for threats. He heard your footsteps rushing upstairs and followed quickly, heart pounding with anger and worry.

You were in the master bedroom, standing in the bathroom, eagerly turning the shower knob. Water started flowing, first dirty and brown, then slowly clearing.

Tommy stood in the doorway, absolutely furious and ready to grab you, yell at you, drag you out of there—

“Did you see?” you said, voice bright with excitement. “Solar panels! Oh my God, if they have warm water… can you imagine?”

You giggled, genuinely thrilled, waiting as the water ran.

Tommy froze.

All the rage drained from his body in an instant. He was completely disarmed. You weren’t trying to escape. You weren’t causing chaos. You were just… happy. Over something as simple and human as the possibility of a warm shower.

He lowered his gun slightly and put it back at the holster, stepping inside and watching you with a strange mix of irritation, surprise, and something dangerously soft.

“Do you think it will work?” you asked, holding your hand under the stream, waiting impatiently.

Tommy exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“Maybe,” he muttered, voice hesitant but gentler than before.

The water gradually grew warmer under your palm. You smiled wider, almost in disbelief.

“It’s getting warm!!”

Tommy pressed his lips together tightly, fighting the small smile that wanted to break across his face. He looked away for a second, trying to hold onto the last scraps of his anger.

You kicked off your boots. Then you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. Tommy’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat as he watched the fabric slide up your body, revealing soft skin, the curve of your waist, your breasts perfectly embraced by a black bra, your soft skin so different from his scarred one.

Your hands moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing it down with a little wiggle.

The way your body moved naturally, unselfconscious, glowing with quiet excitement made heat surge through him instantly.

Tommy stood frozen in the middle of the bathroom, completely lost.

He knew he should turn around. He knew he should walk out that door and give you privacy. But he couldn’t. His feet refused to move. His body had betrayed him the second you started undressing.

You approached him with a sassy little smile, wearing nothing but your bra and panties. The confidence in your step made his breath hitch. Without a word, you reached up and eased the heavy backpack off his shoulders and threw it to the ground. He didn’t stop you, he just couldn’t fight anymore.

Your fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, using only one hand, you undid them one by one, never breaking eye contact. The silence between you was electric. When the last button came undone, you pushed the shirt open, revealing his scarred, toned chest. Tommy yanked the rest of the shirt off himself in one slow motion, letting it drop to the floor.

His gaze stayed glued to you, desperate, and helpless.

He was just a man after all. A starving man. And you were standing there like warm light in the middle of his endless darkness. So full of life. So fucking beautiful it hurt. His eyes dropped to the ugly bruises on your ribs. The ones he had put there. And a sharp wave of regret twisted in his chest. But even that wasn’t enough to make him step away.

You reached out, brushing your fingers slowly across his bare torso, tracing the lines of old scars and hard muscle with quiet delight. Your teeth caught your lower lip as you looked up at him.

“You’re so handsome, Tommy,” you whispered, voice soft and sincere.

Then you took his hands and gently guided them to your back, silently asking him to open your bra. His fingers trembled slightly as he obeyed, unhooking it with surprising care. The fabric slipped down your arms and fell to the floor.

His gaze dropped to your breasts. He stared, completely transfixed, like he was seeing something sacred and forbidden at the same time. The soft curve, the way they rose and fell with your breathing. He had forgotten beauty like this even existed.

You tried to open his jeans with just your left hand, struggling with the button. After a moment, you looked up at him with that sweet, dangerous little smile.

“Help me?” you asked sweetly.

His heart was racing; his breath was fast.

He was completely under your spell. Without thinking, he reached down, unholstered his gun and set it in the sink. Then his hands moved to his jeans almost mechanically, unbuttoning and unzipping and slipping out of them while his eyes stayed locked on yours, hypnotized by the way your eyes burned with desire on him.

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs.

His eyes dropped to watch the movement with raw, unrestrained. “Fuck…” he breathed deeply.

You took his hand and pulled him into the shower with you.

The moment the warm water hit his skin, Tommy let out a low, broken sound. The heat was shocking in the best way, cascading over his shoulders, down his scarred back, soaking his hair. It felt like a blessing, like mercy he didn’t deserve.

You folded your arms around his shoulders, reaching up to gently tug the tie from his hair. The moment it slipped free, his wet curls fell forward, dark strands framing his face and clinging to his forehead and temples. You kept hugging him, pressing your body flush against his. Skin to skin. The sensation was overwhelming. Your soft, warm curves sliding against his hard, battle-worn frame, water running between you. His cock, heavy and aching, pressed against your stomach, throbbing with every heartbeat.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, lips brushing his wet skin. Slowly, you began kissing him there, along the side of his throat, savoring the taste of him, the salt of his skin mixed with water. You moved from spot to spot, like you were worshipping every inch you could reach.

One of his big hands slid down to grab your ass, squeezing firmly and pulling out a sweet moan from your lips straight on his neck. He pulled you even tighter against him. His other hand splayed across your back, fingers digging into your spine as if he needed to make sure you were real on his arms.

The warmth of the water, the softness of your body, the way you kissed his neck like he was something precious… it was all too much. He hadn’t felt anything this sweet in years. Maybe ever. His chest tightened with disbelief. How could the world still give him something this tender after everything he’d done? After everything he’d become?

Yet his hands refused to let go. His hips rolled subtly against you, his hard cock sliding against your wet stomach as the water continued to pour over both of you like a gentle rain. He tilted his head slightly, eyes close, giving you more access to his neck, a quiet, helpless groan rumbling in his chest.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. Water streamed down both your faces, dripping from your lashes.

“Kiss me, Tommy.”

For a long, conflicting second, he simply stared at you. Kissing you meant losing the last tread of control he had… that would be the final line. If he let himself cross it, there would be no coming back. He couldn’t.

He spun you around in one smooth motion, pressing your back flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck from behind, inhaling deeply, lips brushing against your wet skin but never quite kissing. His arms wrapped around you, one hand sliding up to knead your breast, the other gripping your jaw before slowly dragging down your throat, over your collarbone, spreading wide across your chest to feel your scar, your skin, until both hands were cupping and caressing your breasts.

The warm water made everything fluid. You moaned softly at the same time he did, the sound vibrating against the back of your neck as he pressed his face harder into your skin.

“You’re so fucking perfect... So fucking beautiful.” He whispered against your skin.

Your hand reached back, fingers threading through his wet curls, pulling him even closer to your throat.

“Kiss me, Tommy… please,” you whispered, voice trembling with desire, while you arched your neck, offering more skin.

He kept close. But never kissing. One of his hands slid lower, trailing down your stomach until his fingers found your pussy. Your knees buckled slightly at the sudden touch. His other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you upright and firmly against him.

His fingers began to move slowly, stroking through your wetness as the water continued to cascade over your bodies.

You let out a soft, shaky protest. “Tommy… I’m still a little sore from last night.”

He hummed low against your neck, his voice rough and soothing at the same time. His fingers stayed firm but careful, circling your clit with just the right pressure.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ll go slow. You can handle it.”

“No, Tommy…” you breathed, voice trembling with need. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He slid one thick finger inside you slowly. “I’m right here.” He slid a second one, stretching you open. Both of you moaned at the same time, echoing softly in the bathroom.

“No,” you insisted, desperate. “You.” Your hand slipped from his wet curls, reaching behind you, fingers brushing and then wrapping around his hard, throbbing cock for one heated second.

He grabbed instantly your wrist, pulling your hand away and locking it firmly against your chest, pinning it there with his strong arm while his other hand kept working between your legs.

“Don’t,” he rasped against your ear, voice strained with restraint. His finger curled inside you, stroking that perfect spot as his palm pressed against your clit. “I decide what to give you.”

His fingers kept moving and curling perfectly against that spot inside you while his thumb circled your swollen clit with precision. The warm water kept pouring over you both, making everything slippery.

You came hard on his hand with a broken cry, thighs trembling violently against him while his arm hold you fiercely, helping you to keep standing.

He kept stroking you gently through it, savoring every flutter, every gasp, every twitch of your body until you started to come down.

Then he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. His bad knee protested sharply, but he ignored it.

“Hold onto me,” he rasped.

You grabbed his shoulders for balance as he gently maneuvered you, lifting one of your legs and hooking it over his shoulder. The new position left you completely open to him, your core just out of the direct stream of water.

Tommy leaned in without hesitation. The first slow drag of his tongue through your pussy made your back arch and a loud moan tear from your throat. He licked you with long, deep strokes, then focused sucking on your clit, until your legs started shaking again.

You were losing your mind.

Your injured hand found its way into his wet curls, holding on as much as the pain allowed.

He kept going until you came again, harder this time, crying out his name as your hips jerked against his mouth.

He pressed his face against the inside of your thigh, breathing hard and ragged against your skin for a few seconds, like he needed a moment to steady himself. Then he turned his head and bit down gently on the soft flesh of your thigh. You whimpered at the sharp sting of pleasure.

Before you could recover, he dove back in. You tried to protest, oversensitive and trembling, but he held you firmly in place, one strong arm wrapped around your leg to keep you standing while his mouth devoured you.

It didn’t take long before the third orgasm ripped through you, even more intense than the last. You came on his tongue with a broken sob, fingers tightening in his wet hair as your whole body shook.

Tommy stayed there, face buried between your thighs, breathing hard against your soaked core as you trembled through the aftershocks.

You both stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard under the warm spray. Your body was still trembling against him. Eventually, you reached up and turned the shower off.

Tommy pulled away and stood up with a quiet groan, pretending the ache in his knee and the much more painful throb between his legs didn’t exist. Every cell in his body screamed at him to take you, to bury himself inside you, but he forced himself to turn away, using every ounce of willpower he had left.

You stepped out right after him, water still dripping down your skin.

“No,” you said, voice hoarse but determined. “You’re not doing that again.”

You pressed yourself against him, hands wrapping around the length of him, clumsily trying to guide his throbbing cock toward your entrance.

He caught both your wrists in one of his large hands. “No,” he repeated.

You didn’t fight him. Instead, you sank gracefully to your knees right there on the wet tile, eyes locked on his aching cock. The sight of you like that — naked, on your knees, lips parted, staring up at him with pure hunger — nearly broke him.

He reacted on instinct, pressing his palm against your forehead, holding you back before you could lean in.

“Please, Tommy…” you whispered, voice sweet and desperate. “Give it to me. I need it so bad. Let me make you feel good.”

“I said no,” he growled, pushing your head back gently but firmly.

You lowered yourself even more, looking up at him from under your lashes, mouth inches from his leaking cock, eyes pleading.

“Give me,” you breathed. “I want it.”

Tommy gripped your hair, holding you still. He looked wrecked: chest heaving, eyes wild, every muscle in his body screaming with need.

“I’m not going anywhere near those teeth,” Tommy growled, voice low and strained.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you whispered, looking up at him with wide, hungry eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Please, Tommy… please.” You leaned forward just enough to drag the flat of your tongue slowly along the underside of his cock, licking a slow stripe from base to tip. The moment your tongue touched him, Tommy’s whole body jerked like he’d been electrocuted. A raw, broken groan tore from his throat.

“Fuck—”

He snatched the gun from the sink and pressed the cold barrel firmly against the side of your head, right at your temple. His other hand fisted tightly in your wet hair.

“Okay,” he rasped, breathing hard. “But try anything…”

The metal was cold and heavy against your temple. The danger of it sent a dark thrill racing through you, electric and undeniably arousing. You looked up at him with glistening eyes, lips parted, visibly excited by the threat.

“Oh, Tommy…” you breathed, voice sweet and filthy. “You underestimate how much I want this. I would never…”

You didn’t finish the sentence, you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently. Tommy’s hips jerked forward on instinct. You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, working him with your tongue while your left hand reached for him and stroke in the same rhythm.

He was losing his mind too fast.

It had been so fucking long. The wet heat of your mouth, the way you looked up at him with tears already gathering in your eyes, it was too much. He was so sensitive he had to fight with everything he had not to come in the first few seconds.

“Shit— wait—” he gasped, pulling your head back by your hair just as he felt himself tipping over the edge.

He barely had time to breathe before you dove back in even more ferociously, taking him deeper, sucking harder and hungry. Your hand kept stroking him along. Tommy threw his head back with a guttural groan, the gun still pressed against your temple as his hips started twitching.

“God… just like that,” he groaned.

You were overwhelmed. Amused. He was so big, thick and delicious on your tongue. However, it wasn’t just by the physical act; but by the vulnerability he was allowing you. This guarded, dangerous man, who had kept so much of himself locked away, was letting you have this. Letting you see him like this, completely at your mercy for once.

You moaned around his cock, the vibration making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck, I’m not lasting if you—”

You pulled off just enough to look at him, lips shiny.

“Oh, look at you, Tommy Miller… All strong, rough and tough… and I ruined all that in a minute.”

You slowly pushed his gun away from your head, smiling devilish.

He let you. He dropped the gun back onto the sink with a loud clatter. In the next second, both of his hands were in your hair, gripping tight.

“You always have to run that fucking mouth,” he snarled, voice dark and dangerous. The dare gave him control back, and he thrust forward, sliding his cock deep into your throat in one rough unexpected motion. “That what you want? Huh?” He held you there and you gagged around him, tears spilling down your cheeks, but you didn’t pull away. You moaned instead, the vibration making him curse loudly.

He started fucking your mouth in in deep, punishing thrusts, holding your head still. Every time you gagged, he pulled back just enough for you to gasp for air, only to push back in again.

You took it all, eyes watering, spit dripping down your chin, looking up at him like he was everything.

He pulled back to allow you to breathe for once, but instead you just dived back, still hungry.

“Jesus Christ… you wild, greedy little thing,” he groaned, voice hoarse with disbelief and lust, still thrusting into your eager mouth.

You whimpered around him, tears streaming down your face, eyes locked on his like you were daring him to break.

And he did. His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as his control was finally shattered.

You pulled back just enough to gasp against the head of his cock. “Give me every drop.” before swallowing him again.

That was it.

Tommy’s head fell back with a broken, guttural groan. His grip in your hair tightened almost painfully as he came hard, spilling across your tongue and down your throat. He kept thrusting shallowly into your mouth through it, lost in the overwhelming pleasure, hips jerking as wave after wave hit him.

When it finally ended, Tommy was breathing like he’d run for miles, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dazed.

“Fuck… that was insane,” he rasped, voice completely wrecked. “You’re insane.”

He leaned down and lifted you until you stood up, bringing your arms around him. One of his arms hooked under your thighs and he lifted you up. The tenderness of his touch was unexpectedly gentle compared to the roughness from moments before. He carried you out of the bathroom like you weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly, still breathless.

“Just… let’s rest a bit,” he murmured. “Twenty minutes.”

He lowered you onto the dusty, abandoned bed and climbed in behind you, pulling your back flush against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. The sheets were old and messy, clinging to your still-damp skin, but neither of you cared. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing in your hair… it felt too good, almost unbelievable.

You both drifted off almost instantly.

When you woke up, Tommy was already sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his clothes back on.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard you stir.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice neutral but not cold.

You got dressed quietly. As you both headed downstairs, Tommy reached the front door first. Instead of just walking through, he paused and held it open for you.

You stepped past him, your shoulder brushing his chest. For a brief second, your eyes met. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, soft and shy. You smiled back, warm and real, before stepping outside.

The tension between you had shifted. It wasn’t gone, but it felt… different. It wasn’t awkward.

As you walked back through the neighborhood, the silence wasn’t heavy anymore. Tommy eventually broke it.

“You really went back into that bunker just for some meds and snacks?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “I have to give you that one. You’re brave as fuck. Reckless, but brave.”

You shrugged, smirking. “Maybe. But it worked.”

Tommy shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Good thing I checked you all over for bites,” he added, his voice dropping into something boyish and teasing.

You let out a surprised little laugh. “Oh, so that’s what all the hands were about? Just a very… professional bite check. Right?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Thorough inspection.”

Your heart did something dangerous in your chest.

It was happening. There he is.

There he was, the real Tommy. You could see the cracks widening in real time, and God… it made you stupidly, helplessly happy.

A few steps later, his tone softened again.

“…The water was nice, though,” he admitted quietly. “Been a long time since I had a warm shower.”

You glanced at him, smiling softly. “Yes… It felt like heaven.”

You kept walking side by side. Tommy eventually asked something about your life back in Canada, and you answered with a small smile, sharing memories. He listened, nodding occasionally, offering a short comment here and there. For a few precious minutes, it felt hopeful. Until it all shattered.

A low growl ahead made Tommy stop abruptly. Two infected shambled into view. He moved fast, killing them with the precision you’ve seen before. You stayed back, watching him work with that deadly efficiency.

But just as the last one dropped, you both heard it: a faint human voice, panicked and close.

“Stay here,” Tommy whispered, drawing his gun now.

He crept forward to check. A minute later, you heard him curse under his breath. Against his order, you followed the sound.

In the shadows of an old porch, a teenage boy was kneeling on the ground, cradling a girl no older than fifteen. Half her throat had been torn out. Blood soaked the boy’s hands and shirt. He was rocking her gently, babbling through shock and tears.

Tommy lowered his gun slightly, expression grim and heart tight.

The boy looked up at him with glassy, broken eyes. “Please… help me. She’s… she’s not gone. She can’t be gone.”

You rushed forward before Tommy could stop you.

“Hey— don’t look,” Tommy warned sharply, but you ignored him, dropping to your knees beside the boy.

You checked the girl quickly, uselessly, then turned to the boy.

“Are you hurt? Let me see.” you grab his bloody hands, inspecting it. You turn urgently to Tommy. “Tommy, what do we have? In the backpack. Gauze? Meds? Help me here!” you turn again to the boy trying to calm him down.

Tommy grabbed your arm. “Hey.”

You looked up. He nodded toward the boy’s leg. The trouser was torn, and a clear bite mark was there just above the ankle.

The boy was still in shock, barely conscious of what was happening to him.

Tommy pulled you back firmly, voice low and urgent. “Look away and be ready to run. Once I shoot, more could come.”

“No, Tommy, don’t,” you pleaded, grabbing his jacket. “Please don’t kill him. We can wait. We don’t know for sure—”

“He’s bitten,” Tommy said flatly. “He’ll turn. He will kill other people if we let if happen.”

“I know, but let’s just wait a bit. In the Fireflies—”

Tommy’s face darkened with impatience. “I don’t care about your Fireflies and their experiments. This isn’t Denver. This is real life.”

He moved toward the boy, raising his gun.

You stepped in front of him, desperate, trying anything to gain time. “Tommy, you said using the gun is dangerous.”

His jaw clenched. Anger and exhaustion flashed across his face. “You want me to choke him instead? Stab him? Is that better for your conscience?”

“No! Just… wait a little. It costs us nothing to try! That’s not how we do it—”

He abruptly interrupt you. “We? Don’t include me in your delusions. And don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Keep your rebel trials to your gang.”

You held onto his arm tightly, refusing to let go. “No. You’re not doing it. You’re not killing him like that.”

“Enough,” he growled.

The boy suddenly snapped out of his shock, eyes widening in terror as he finally understood what was about to happen. He scrambled backward on the ground, hands slipping in his own blood and the girl’s.

“No, please!” he begged, voice cracking. “Don’t! I’m not— I’m not turning, I swear! Please don’t kill me!”

He tried to crawl away, sobbing, but his injured leg gave out beneath him. “Please… I don’t want to die… I won’t hurt anyone, I promise!”

“Tommy! please, just, listen—"

Tommy’s patience snapped. “See what you’ve done? You made it worse.”

The boy kept crying, tears cutting clean lines through the blood and dirt on his face. “Please… just let me go… please…”

He pushed past you roughly, pressed the barrel of the gun to the boy’s head, and painfully pulled the trigger.

You stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at the scene. Tommy grabbed your arm and pulled you quickly toward a hidden spot behind a nearby wall, shielding you with his body as he scanned for any new threats.

Nothing else came. The street remained deathly quiet.

Tommy stayed completely still for a long time, gun raised, listening. You stood right beside him, frozen and scared, heart hammering against your ribs. When he finally lowered his weapon, the softness you had seen in him just minutes ago — the warmth, the brief crack in his armor — was completely gone.

He turned on you, eyes hard.

“You and your stupid fucking ideas,” he hissed, voice low but venomous. “Keep preaching that Firefly bullshit at me. Go on. Tell me again how we should just ‘wait and see.’ Look what it cost us.”

You stayed silent, watching the last traces of the man who smiled so genuinely at you minutes before disappearing in real time. The gentleness, the vulnerability… all of it wiped away like it had never existed. Beneath his anger, you could see how much he hated what he’d just done. The disgust. The exhaustion.

It wasn’t fair.

Life had punished him the second he dared to let a little light in. The moment he allowed himself even a sliver of softness and happiness, reality ripped it away and reminded him exactly who he was supposed to be.

“Are you even listening to me?” Tommy snapped.

The question pulled you back. You blinked.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He let out a bitter, angry breath.

“Those fantasies of yours just got that kid even more scared than he needed to be. Congratulations.”

That hit you like a slap.

“Don’t you dare call it fantasy. It’s the only thing that still gives me hope in this fucking nightmare.”

Tommy didn’t even flinch. His voice dropped cold.

“Your hope just made a boy die begging for his life.”

He turned away from you, shoulders rigid, and started walking again.

@xodilfluvr @twilightvelour @igotyoubabygirlao3 @ireneadlerwrites @alanageorgy @brittbrat1990 @that-antler-queen @gorygladiators @luckybug48 @honey-moon-13 @the-clear-northern-skies @gabetmiller @awkwardambition @aphroditekillz

[turtlerabbitme]

imagine a henry spinoff where, in the final scene, he's lying on a quiet field while the sun slowly sets, and he's sleeping, but forever...

and then the end ...

[jcbbby]

touching something slimy when you’re doing the dishes

[nocasdatsgay]

All Is Well In Camazotz

Pairing: Henry/Reader | Rating: E | Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, manipulation, and sex

Summary: The events from 1970 to 1987 are made of questionable decisions and good intentions. Now all is well in Camazotz, as the kids called it. You, the picture perfect wife in the picture perfect house, with a somewhat picture perfect husband. You knew your role. You played it well. And you will do anything to keep it that way. Or so you thought.

Author’s Note: First of all, don’t come for me. Second of all, I didn’t watch the play. Lastly, if the Duffer Brothers can do whatever the fuck they want, so can I.

Read here from the beginning here on AO3

Ch 1: All Is Well In Camazotz | Ch 2: Right Here Waiting | Ch 3: Devil in Disguise | Ch. 4: Little Lies | Ch. 5: House | Ch. 6: A Drag Path | Ch. 7: Earned It | Ch. 8: Any Way You Want It | Ch. 9: Happy Birthday | Ch. 10: Devil’s Backbone | Ch. 11 House Tour Part 1 | Ch. 12 Separate Ways… | Ch. 13 House Tour Part 2 | Ch. 14: Indigo

[usetheeauthor]

Love finding new Henry fics to read ☺️

[creelcutter]

My favourite dynamic to read between Henry Creel and the Reader is whatever this is

Yes this is mostly about @lazarusawakens @nocasdatsgay and @usetheeauthor ‘s works 😭

[usetheeauthor]

Gotta knock him down a notch sometimes 😂

[oh-katsuki]

Chubby reader taking dekus virginity as he moans and begs for her to “please slow down” because she feels too good... how would this play out cuz I don’t know-

….. babe…. I can’t- I- okay… here u go

he gets so overwhelmed. there’s so much for him to grab, so much for him to look at. izuku didn’t think he’d love the feeling of your thighs on either side of his hips as much as he does but that’s what’s driving him out of him mind. the combination of your tight, pillowy cunt mixed with the fat of your legs and thighs pressing against him puts him into overdrive.

he begs, tears pricking in his eyes as your grind back and forth on his cock, “baby, s-slow down, m’gonna cum too fast.”

but you can’t hear him, you’re too lost in how thick his cock is. it’s so fucking big, splitting you open while your pussy drools over it. izuku can feel the slip of your slick and it makes him stupid, his hands guiding your hips despite his pleads for you to go slower and his eyes screwed shut. it isn’t long before he’s cumming inside of you, too pussy drunk to think to pull out. izuku comes with a whine, with a climbing high pitched moan that sends you tumbling over the edge around him, relishing in his voice as your cunt pulses around him rhythmically.

[mysicklove]

i can imagine izuku still being a virgin and getting so pussydrunk because it's his first time

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘

Pairings: Virgin! Sub! Top! Pro-Hero! Izuku x Experienced! Dom! Bottom! AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy overstimulation, vaginal penetration, biting, hickeys, creampie, crying, begging, nicknames,, multiple rounds

A/N: Guys Im going to be honest. This is lowkey mostly plot heavy and not too much smut. Im sorry anon I should have made it short and smutty, but I just had this idea and one thing lead to another... I will make short smut stuff!!!!!

Izuku was desperate to have sex. He may be doing fantastic career-wise, but his life in the sheets was dry. So unbelievably dry. He was so pent up, so frustrated, he needed it so badly. Every night he has to get himself off, and by god, he wanted more.

He met you a couple of weeks ago, and you have clouded his mind ever since. He doesn't even know your name. All he knows is you were wearing a red dress, and you kissed him so hard he couldn't breathe. Pressed your knee on his clothed cock, and just like nothing happened, disappeared.

He was drunk. The both of you were. He remembers the smell of alcohol on your breath, how flushed you look. He was probably no better, the fact that this happened at all means he had to be wasted. He barely has the confidence to talk to girls.

It happened at some sort of party that only celebrities or the rich attend, but with all the Google searches in the world, he couldn't find you. His search history was embarrassing.

But even so, he fantasized about you. The purr of your voice, the soft hands that ran over his muscular body, the way you said, “Such a pretty boy in front of me, you must have all the ladies in the palm of your hand, hmm?” while pressing your lips, coating with red lipstick, onto his neck.

He couldn't get you out of his head. He attended every single party, but alas he could never find you. He would end up at home, alone, touching himself.

Until he found you again, two months later. At another party.

He spills the champagne in his hands, when he sees you, eyes wide, before stumbling up and over to you. You are at a table by yourself, sipping on some sort of cocktail. You were in a dark blue tight dress today, and instead of that red lipstick that stained his neck, you were wearing clear lip gloss.

He awkwardly, and hesitantly taps your shoulder, and flushes when you turn around. The thoughts of that night come flooding back to him, and he has to look away so he doesn't get a hard-on.

“Oh! Deku, I didn't know you were here.” You say with a bright smile and he blinks at you. He just cannot stop thinking about the fact that this is the face he gets off to daily. The way you look now is so different than last time. You look so innocent, grinning so widely, it's nothing like the flushed, domineering persona you had that night.

Either way, it's still you and he gulps. “Hey! Yeah…I was invited.”

You smile into your glass cup. “I would hope so.”

He blushes. Such a stupid thing to say. Of course, he was invited and you were too, what was he even talking about? “So..What's your name?”

You hold out a hand and grin. “Y/N.”

He takes it and gently shakes it, trying to hold back his nervous shaking. “It's nice to me you, Im–”

“Deku?” You prompt with a tilt of your head.

He falters, “Uh yeah! But I was going to say, Izuku” He trails off and you laugh.

“Sorry. Got ahead of myself! It's nice to meet you Izuku.” And suddenly your facial features flip. That smirk is back. He loves it. “Your tie is all messed up, mind if I fix it?” He blushes but nods. You grin and grab onto the green tie, and he goes needle straight. “Yknow. You look awfully familiar, Izuku.” You say in a lone tone, that makes the blood flow straight to his cock.

He splutters, “You, you think so?” You drop the tie and hum. Your mouth opens, beginning another probably teasing remark when a call of your name cuts you off. A female voice, he takes specific note of.

You turn to him and smile. “Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around, pretty boy.”

He stands there staring at the space you just preoccupied with a blank face. And then it hits him. Pretty boy. That’s what you called him that night. You remember. You had to. He turns around quickly and says, “Wait!” but you are already gone. Hidden by the crowd of dancing and drinking rich idiots.

He eyes the cocktail you left, sighs, and finishes it off. He has gotta get some liquid courage in him if he wanted to be bold enough to deal with you.

He searched the party all night, but alas he couldn't find you. He almost began to give up hope, when suddenly he saw you. Alone, once again, and on the balcony. He sets his drink down and uses the silver reflection of his plate as a mirror to quickly brush through his hair. He sighs and then as calmly as he could so nobody would say anything, walks to the balcony.

When you hear the footsteps, you turn around, and when you see who exactly it is, you grin. He laughs nervously. “Woah, funny seeing you here, Y/N.”

You raise your eyebrow and turn to lean your back on the balcony ledge. “Oh don't give me that, I saw you looking for me all night like a lost puppy.” You throw your head back in a laugh and his ever-returning blush is back.

“Y-You knew? But, why didn't you…” He trails off when you step closer to him. Now you were less than a foot away, grinning up at him, he could almost feel your breasts press against him. He gulps and looks away, hoping to fight his arousal. He could smell the traces of alcohol.

You grab his face to make him look at you, and you lean forward like you are going to kiss him, and then pause, centimeters away. “Izuku, what do you want from me?”

“Everything.” He whispers eyes half-lidded as he stares at your lips.

You smile. “Good answer.” And then press his lips to his. He groans, low and softly, but leans into the kiss. He grabs your waist and presses you against him, and you pull away when you feel his hard cock. “Where should we go?” You prompt, basically inviting him to ask you to his place.

But, much to your dismay, he doesn't get it. “Bathroom,” He says, thinking back to that one night, and then leans forward for another kiss.

You pull away, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. His eyes widen when he feels your warmth disappear. “Bathroom, really? You–You are just like all the others. I thought after the whole romantic balcony scene you would at least have the decency to ask me to your place.” You turn around to head back inside.

He stumbles forward, and grabs your wrist, eyes pleading. “Wait! I'm sorry! I'm nervous, please come over! I've never done this before, I promise I'm not like the others,” He basically begs and this time your eyes widen.

“Oh my. Don't tell me, the number one pro hero, is a virgin?” He looks away and goes silent. You throw your head back in laugh at the confirmation, and he pouts. Then, you grab onto the green tie and pull him forward, he stumbles in front of you, the blush returning. “I'm going to have so much fun with you, pretty boy.”

Tonight was the best night ever, Izuku decides when his head is thrown back, mouth open, as you sink onto his cock. How could he be missing this all of his years? It was so much better than the fantasy. So much better.

“Oh god,” He groans, hands coming to your hips instinctually. You begin to steady your movements, sitting on your knees in his lap.

“How does it feel? After all this time, you finally lost your virginity,” You say with a grin, hand running down to trace his chest. He nods, a drunken smile pulling at his face.

He gazes down at your sexes and moans. “Feels good. Warm, mhmm so warm.” His voice cracks, “and tight. So much b-better than my hand.”

You laugh, but it comes out in broken pants, so you lean forward to kiss him. He pulls away quickly, eyes wide and panicked. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to cum. No, no, it's too earlier. I can't” He shakes his head and clutches at the sheets beneath him, trying desperately to hold it back, as you continue to ride him.

You shake your head with an adoring gaze. “’s alright. We will just have to go again. And again and again, until you are all fucked out, hmm?”

He stares at you with hearts in his eyes, nodding rapidly. “Yes. Yes, please, please. Fuck. Cumming. I’m cuming!” And just like he said, he released his load in you and rolls his eyes back. Small gasps and a silent moan tumble down from his lips, and his hand shakes as he grips onto your hips.

You coax him through it with a smile, running your fingers through his unruly hair. When he comes down from his high he stares at you with a lazy grin, and the next thing you know you are being flipped over.

Your eyes widen as you feel Izuku start to move in and out again. It was surprising, he had just come down from his orgasm. Wasn't he being overstimulated? His pathetic whine answered your question. “Iz-Izuku, do you want to take a break?” You sigh when he begins to pick up the ruthless pace again.

He leans his head into your neck and shakes his head rapidly. His voice comes out in a pitchy whine, “But you said!” He grips the pillow next to your head and whimpers into your neck, feeling the pain of his spent cock being overworked.

“We can go again after you recover.” You gasp and clutch onto his back, sending nail marks down it. He groans. “So it won't hurt you.”

He shakes his head again and you can feel the drip of the tears falling onto your neck. He was trembling. “No. Please don't make me stop. ‘m good. So good. Feels so so good.”

You grin, maybe a little sadistically as you watch him begin to crumble. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He moans, high pitched, and loud. He presses his lips to your neck, sucking and marking any area he can lay his mouth on. You crane your neck to allow his urges. “I love it. I love it.” He half murmurs half whines in between kisses.

“Hmm?” You respond, not trusting yourself to speak while he begins to pick up the pace. One hand grips onto his hair and the other continues to scratch his back.

“Your pussy. S-So warm and tight. ’s like it was made for me.” He gasps and you laugh, to the best of your ability.

You pull him back by the mop on his head and he whines, eyes shut, as his head tilts backward. “What happened to my bashful virgin? You're so lewd now.” His hips pick up the pace.

He tries to the best of his ability to shake his head but ultimately fails under your grip. “But I love it! I do!” You laugh at the ridiculous response and let go of his hair. He collapses back and immediately buries his face into your neck again. “Im going to cum again. Can I cum? Please, please.”

“So quick. Still have a virgin body. Alright. For me, yeah?”

He nods a little embarrassed, and he feels his muscles begin to contract. He bites down on your shoulder and you hiss, but he ignores it, riding his second orgasm through. It's stronger and harder than the first and he screams into your skin, tears falling copiously down his round, flushed cheeks.

He peers down and widens his eyes when he sees his cum begin to leak out of your pussy. He gulps, feeling himself get hard once again, and flips you over immediately. “More. More. Please, just one more. One more time.” He lays completely on top of you and interjoins his fingers with yours.

He uses his arm to lift your hips up so that it was easier to fuck. It makes you raise your eyebrows. He must have watched a lot of porn to know that trick.

“What if I say no?” You tease and he releases an unsteady whine. His eyes are blurry from the tears.

“Please don't say no. Please, I love it. I love it so much. Please, Y/N!” He begs, dropping his head on the pillow next to your face.

“So needy.”

“P-Please.” He whimpers, in a voice so low you could barely hear and you grin.

“Alright. Go ahead.” You could barely finish your statement when all of a sudden he is pounding into you again, mumbling stuff like “Thank you. Thank you.” and “Good. So good.”

You know it hurts him. It has too, overstimulation is no joke. But the way he continues, eyes watery and hips frantic shows just how desperate he is. How obsessed he is with it. The pain didn't even matter to him, the thought of driving his cock into you spurred him on.

He wanted more. You opened his eyes, and once uncovering the truth, he could never get enough of it.

Fucking Izuku may not have been a good idea. In an instant, you turned this poor, cute virgin, into a pussy-starved man. But alas, he seems to only seek it from one particular person, so it may not be all that bad.

He came five times that night and you twice. He asked to go again, but you had to stop him when you took a peak at his fuming red cock, tear-stained cheeks, and trembling body. He doesn't seem to know when to stop.

You left early that morning, legs wobbly and body completely spent. He slept in, his body seeming to be more exhausted than yours.

When he woke up, his body sticky from sweat, his hair messy and body was sore, the first thing he took notice was the sticky note stuck onto his forehead.

Messy, cursive handwriting spelled out, I’ll be waiting for my lost puppy to come crawling back to me again. Xoxo, Y/N

He fell back onto the pillow with a groan. Not even a phone number. You were so cruel.

So, he does what any good puppy does. He attends every party for the next three weeks until he finds you again.

[mrsnanamiller]

ᖭ༏ᖫ Edge of Town | Masterlist ᖭ༏ᖫ

A Tommy Miller Firefly-era fic

[Tommy Miller x f!Reader]

[📖 AO3] [TAGLIST] [📚 Wattpad]

🔞❌ 18+ only — you’ve been warned 🔥

Fic Summary: You were FEDRA’s rising officer in the Boston QZ. Tommy Miller was the Firefly you were supposed to kill - a fact you learned far too late. Loving him felt like hope in a world ruled by fear, until the truth surfaces and you realize that this love might cost you everything. Inspired by Gabriel Luna’s song: Edge of Town Warnings: Canon-typical violence, post-outbreak (the last of us), slow burn, romance, past sexual abuse, smut, heavy angst, enemies to lovers, explicit sexual content, jealousy, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, mild power dynamics (consensual), oral (M/F)

Chapter 1 - City walls

Chapter 2 - Wicked Games

Chapter 3 - Gods and Monsters

Chapter 4 - Erase and rewind

Chapter 5 - Full Circles

Chapter 6 - Look after you

Chapter 7 - Undisclosed desires 🔥

Chapter 8 - Ace of Hearts 🔥🔥

Chapter 9 - Nobody's Soldier

Chapter 10 - Confortably Numb

Chapter 11 - The less I know the better

Chapter 12 - We just kept dancing 🔥🔥

Chapter 13 - Like an animal 🔥🔥🔥

Chapter 14 - Ordinary Love 🔥

Chapter 15 - Lies

Chapter 16 - You're gonna hit me like a lightning 🔥

Chapter 17 - Ghosts again

Chapter 18 - Duvet

Chapter 19 - Tomorrow never came 🔥🔥

Chapter 20 - Ring of Fire 🔥

Chapter 21 - Heart of gold

Chapter 22 - Back to 505 🔥🔥

Chapter 23 - Music to watch boys to

Chapter 24 - Hole in my soul

Chapter 25 - Matador 💀

Chapter 26 - Eyes without a face

Chapter 27 - Bitter taste

Chapter 28 - I'm your nostalgic bitch

Chapter 29 - Army of me

Chapter 30 - Let me live or let me love you

Chapter 31 - Living dead girl

Chapter 32 - Break my legs so I won't walk to you

Chapter 33 - Bad girls do it well

Chapter 34 - A storm is coming💀💀

Chapter 35 - Punished 💀💀💀

Chapter 36 - Ptolemaea 💀💀💀

Chapter 37 - Let the light in

Chapter 38 - I can feel it coming ❤️

Chapter 39 - Kiss up, and rub up, and feel up on ya 🔥🔥🔥

Chapter 40 - Wild horses ❤️❤️❤️🔥

Chapter 41 - Cause we survived the great war

Chapter 42 - Born to Run 🔥❤️🔥❤️

Chapter 43 - Edge of town 💀❤️🔥

Chapter 44 - If tomorrow never comes

Chapter 45 - Western stars ❤️🔥

art by the amazing @kenobiwanx

🎬Tommy HBO - [EoT edit1] [EoT edit2] (a bit of spoiler for future chapters!) [EoT edit3]

🎬 Tommy Game - [EoT edit]

🎧 Spotify Playlist

[gabetmiller]

[mrsnanamiller]

The serious look. Then the tummy. Then the tiny smile at the end.

Lord, please, i can’t anymore.

[usetheeauthor]

Hello! I just came to drop by in your asks to let you know that I love your Henry Creel series dearly. I remember reading it ages ago on Ao3 and was scrolling through the Henry Creel tag here and saw it on tumblr!! The plot as a whole is so alluring and intriguing to me, because I’ve never seen anything like it before, but I’m loving the dynamic between Henry and the reader. I just wish poor Eleven wasn’t suffering with us too 😢 I’ve never really been a fan of the enemies to lovers trope, but you and other writers for Henry seem to really hit the nail on the head with it, which has actually made me like it 😋

Thank you so much 💗 i’m glad i’m able to convince u with enemies to lovers because it’s trope I’ve always felt to be the most difficult in making it interesting and new.

I will be putting out future chapters and I’m actually working on one right now. Thank you for reading and your support! 😘🌸

[ryebreadgf]

real yearners miss shit that never even happened

[persianmom-deactivated20260602]

existing in this world as a deeply sensitive person geninuely feels like being sanded down into nothing

[millermami]

i am just sick. repulsed.

[firefly-graphics]

Winter Dividers

The temperature has dropped where I live so here’s some wintery themed dividers!

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Requests are OPEN!

Dividers List

[firefly-graphics]

Apple Dividers

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Requested by @hellizens

Dividers List