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joeloverture · 19 days ago

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deadfall | enemy!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: dad’s enemy!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel miller, rival raiders with your father, is the last person you expect to save you from the group that captured you. he’s also the last person you expect to sleep with. [post outbreak] warnings: (mdni) canon typical violence (stalkers, mentions of death), porn with plot, game or tv joel, reader born before the outbreak, reader has a present/loving father figure (HAH), alternate universe — joel never went to boston, implied age gap but how big is up to you, self indulgent humor, quicksand, explicit smut, reader is a biiiit of a peeping tom, close proximity, only one bed, (brief) accidental somnophilia so dubcon, dry humping, degradation, humiliation, mirror sex, unprotected piv (he’s snipped dw), doggy style, manhandling (he fucks you in a headlock), mild breath play & choking, brief hair pulling (reader has hair!), scratching/biting, brief orgasm denial, hatefuck [no use of y/n] word count: 9.5k author's note: pwplot! a joeloverture first. also my first foray into somno! and post!ob joel! lots of firsts here. special thanks to @joelsdagger for taking a glimpse at this for me (and for being the PIONEER that forged joel fucking in a headlock) and @lovesickonmybed for being the best sounding board ever. i hope y'all like this one, i sure do.

There are no infected in the swamp — not this far out. They prefer the slant of buildings or the maw of split pavement. Blood-bloated leeches and black-trunked cypresses aren’t their domain.

You can’t say you blame them. One day in, and you’re already sick of this shit.

A few gnats have flown up your nostrils as you wade through the ankle-deep sludge. Mist curls at the edges of your vision. Your feet keep slipping on the slime covered stones that are half-submerged in the deep. Sweat crystallizes on your nape as your toe catches on a downed branch.

Before you faceplant in the sludge below, a burly hand snags your collar and hauls you up. “You always this much of a klutz?” It’s the first few words he’s said to you in hours.

A scowl buckles your lips. You shove Joel Miller’s arm off your back, splashing up scummy water as you step over the branch this time. You say nothing — don’t even dignify him with a passing glance.

“You’re a real peach, ain’t ya?” Joel says. When he takes his next step, water splashes at the backs of your calves. “Save your ass and this is the thanks I get.”

Joel Miller doesn’t want thanks. Up until he accidentally burnt his thumb with boiling hot coffee yesterday, you’d been convinced he didn’t feel anything at all. As long as his pulse is woven between bullets and stab wounds, he doesn’t give a damn what happens to those around him. His heart, much like the rest of the people at the end of the world, is calcified. Only beating out of necessity.

You’re silent as you footslog forward. The slurp of mud stretches between your shoe and the ground. Your pack jostles against your back. The ache in your bones has proven to be a better company than Joel – at least that is tolerable.

A deadfall lays flat ahead, a tree with cambered branches that droop with moss. Joel cups a hand over his eyes to block out the sun and squints past.

You go to walk past him, around the deadfall.

“Nuh uh,” Joel tugs you back by the scruff. You grunt. “‘S deeper out there. I’d sure like to see you get swallowed up by a gator, but that doesn’t work for me, kid.”

It sure works for you. If you see one of their bumpy snouts protruding out of the water, you’re using him as bait.

You don’t say that, though. Just hitch your foot up over one of the branches in the tree and start to haul yourself up. It’s a nagging ordeal – full of hissing through your teeth and feeling wood tear small cuts into your skin. Your hand tangles in an unoccupied spiderweb before you toss yourself through the other side of the bramble. Water sluices around you as you right yourself, rubbing a bead of blood from one of your knuckles.

Joel’s quick to follow, even quicker to take front again. You’ve learned he likes being ahead of you — unless you’re climbing a ledge or a fallen oak.

The hours wear on. You refuse to be the first to call it for the day. Even when you get stinging salt water into your open cuts, you grin and bear it. When the sun lounges on the chaise of the tree-sketch horizon, he drops his pack on an island of mulch that’s nestled in a grove of dead vegetation.

You slump down next to him, rifling through your pack for a bite of jerky. Joel’s knees pop. He grunts as he slips down into the dirt and unrolls his sleeping bag. He rolls over, facing away from you. Hand wrapped around his gun like it’s a lover.

When you do the same, it’s with a barbed insult on your tongue that’s better left unspoken.

At the end of the world, everything is ruleless. But you grew up with exactly one rule: don’t talk about Joel Miller.

You hadn’t been expecting him to kill you.

The Cockroaches, the lesser raider group in Northeast Texas, had captured you. Apparently your dad had some unpaid debts, and in taking you as leverage, they’d intended to get close to him. All they got were bullets in their heads.

You’d sighed in relief when the hatch to your basement confinement had finally opened. A spillage of sun sliced down through the opening, and you were expecting the familiar warmth of your father, an apology, and reassurance that he wouldn’t let them take you again.

Instead, you got Joel. With his hulking gun, broad figure that blocked out the sun, and the scowl that would be the last thing you’d ever see.

You had fumbled against the post you were tied to, feet scrabbling against the floor. You’d winced away when he raised his knife. “Don’t–”

…And cut into your restraints.

You’d rubbed the chafing from your wrists and stared at him, nebulous and delirious. “Get the fuck away from me,” you’d croaked.

“They touch you?” he’d asked. You’d shaken your head. “Hurt ya?” Another shake.

“Good. Now get up and get ready to haul ass.” He turned around, but not before throwing his knife to the ground next to you. The clatter it made against the concrete made your ears ring.

You grabbed the knife.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask him. They’re the only words you’ve spoken since you’d seen him in the cellar.

“I ain’t,” he says. His voice is gruff. Sandpapery.

“Looks like helping,” you say, nodding at the pack he’d given you. He’d come out prepared. To get you.

“Your daddy ain’t the only one with debts,” he says.

You stop, booted feet sinking into the mud. Shit. “So that’s what this is. You take me away just to hand me off to some other shitty group?”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. He turns around, already mid-stride.

You yank his knife out of your pocket and dive at him.

“Hey, hey, fuck – you little brat,” he spats. He goes off balance before he twists around. You corral him against a tree, leg hitching around his waist as you knee at his thighs, aiming for his crotch. His spittle sprays your cheek as he grunts. His fist wraps around your hand, and the knife splats into the mud. His booted heel slips and he goes sliding back as he shoves you away, hard. You cough as you slam into a tree trunk. The knot that swells out of the bark digs into your head. You drag a branch up off the ground, pushing yourself off the tree as you heft it.

Before you grab it, he slaps you. Hard. Your head goes spinning as you stumble back into the muck. He jams his boot down against your chest, mud smearing across your tank top. “I gotta tie you up, or you gonna fuckin’ listen to me?”

You reach up to grab his ankle, and he just stomps harder against your chest. You wheeze, flopping back in the sludge. “B-bastard,” you hiss.

“Yeah, yeah, shut the hell up. ‘S your dad’s shitty group I’m talkin’ about.”

You give him an incredulous look.

“Your old man ain’t the only one with a coupla debts under his belt.”

“You’re shitting me,” you say. Voice squished in your throat from his tread against your chest.

He shakes his head and finally lets his boot up. You suck in a breath, another cough rattling your ribcage. “Quit being all uppity and pickin’ fights ya can’t win if you wanna learn, dumbass.”

“Why didn’t he just come get me himself?” you grit out as you lean back against a log. You use it to lift yourself, legs feeling gelatinous from being shoved about.

“You didn’t see? Cockroach shot ‘im in the leg.” Your lips tremble, but you straighten them. “He’s fine.”

You scowl. “And you didn’t tell me this sooner?” You march forward. Your arms cross solidly over your chest.

“Figured you wouldn’t take it well.” He looks you up and down. “And I was right.”

You curse under your breath. Dip to grab your knife. Toss it in your hand while you think. You don’t flinch when it slightly nicks your thumb — it’s hardly a poke with all of the scraping you’ve been doing through undergrowth — but Joel smirks.

He sees you as juvenile. The product of a world that you haven’t earned the right to be in, always cowering behind your dad’s back.

You’ll prove him wrong.

“How far are we from the nearest city?” you ask. You want to go home. Your arms ache not just from swinging at your side or lifting you up toppled trees, but to wrap around your father. Your bones protest at the thought of being in your skin. Your tank top sticks to your flesh with mud and the parasites that squirm in it.

“I’m not a goddamn fortune teller,” Joel says. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Then we better get moving.” You readjust your pack and jostle him as you march on.

Three days later, and there’s no end in sight to the swamp. Whatever towns you’ve encountered are home to only a derelict gas station and ransacked mom-and-pop stores. They’re no place for pit stops.

You (reluctantly) stay close to Joel, who you’re lucky to hear so much as a murmur out of. Most of the time, he’s redirecting you, tugging you out of the way of half-decade old hunter’s traps or reminding you not to go too far.

“The world isn’t gonna end if I step out of your imaginary line, Joel,” you say. You test your foot on the side of the bank you’re walking on. Nothing happens.

“Ki–” Joel says, brows crunched up.

“See? Fine.” You press more of your weight into the ground. He reaches for you, but your body tilts.

Your foot is sinking.

“You’re a fuckin’ pain in my ass,” Joel says. He pinches his nose bridge. “Shoulda left ya down there.”

You glare at him, bending yourself at the waist so you can try to wiggle yourself with your upper body strength. Your free knee is propped up on the squishy ground. You grunt, palms slipping against the oily, grass-filled mud. “I got it,” you rasp out as he crouches in front of you.

“Uh huh,” he says, frowning pointedly.

“I got it.” You slap his hand away and thresh your leg in the sand. It barely even wiggles. “Fuck.” You strain your leg, huffing and puffing. Dirt fixes itself under your nails.

Joel wraps his arms under your shoulders and you flail in protest. “I said I can handle it!” Instead of listening to you, he tugs at you like pulling a toy from a dog. You keep windmilling your arms.

“Quit thrashin’!” Joel yells. “Any harder and you’re gonna drag me in with you.”

Your face is too close to his. Too close for the uncomfortable heat. His humid breath fans against your sweat-slippery cheek as he groans. Your foot loosens. You prop your calf up on his thigh as he wrests you out of the quicksand. You’re chest-to-chest with him as you tip over the muck, dropping flat against him. “Mmph.”

Joel shoves you off of him, and you fall on your ass in the mud. By all odds, your boot has remained strapped to your foot. He’s already up and moving when he says, “Jesus Christ, you are just like your fuckin’ dad.”

The mud still caked into your shirt has started to flake by the time you reach a city called Monroe. Just off of I-20, you and Joel trek further into what you imagine must’ve been a medium-sized city during its heyday.

You’re bone-weary. Your back keeps popping with every step with how you keep having to sleep on the ground. You’d be thankful for even a mattress of moss — but luckily, you won’t have to settle. Sunset is nearing, which means you can see the blue water (imagine that, blue water) tainted pink and orange below. Houses and the city clocktower reflect into the gentle pull and ebb of the tide.

Joel nods at a half-bent blue roadway sign. “YMCA up ahead,” he says. He wipes the sweat off his brow and clutches his gun closer to his side. “Stay close.”

You keep your hand around the grip of your knife, following him into the city.

It’s quiet as you navigate through a labyrinth of abandoned, rust-gutted cars. At one point, you manage to slip ahead of him, and he allows it for long enough (fifteen seconds) that you opt to take a shortcut through a parking garage. You climb over the edge and dip inside, feet scraping over roots that have grown between concrete slabs. The shade is a brief respite from the scorching sun, but the humidity still wrings the sweat from your pores.

Joel slips ahead of you again, taking long, dragging strides that look as exhausted as you feel. Four days of hiking through swamp and gunk and slapping mosquitoes against your skin has made you grateful to just be walking on solid ground again. Joel steps past a busted, sticker-covered van.

A streak flickers against the dark canopy of the garage. “Infected!” you shout, but Joel falls back on his ass.

His gun flies out of his hand and skids across the concrete. He grunts, shuffling backward, but the stalker’s already on him, its mouth sewn partially shut by fungi. It croaks and slashes at him, blind left eye battering and twitching. Joel throws a hooked punch, but the stalker takes the opportunity to grapple him, snarling in his face.

He’s going to get bit.

You launch forward, knife in-hand. You fling yourself into a tumble with the stalker, legs strewn over Joel’s. Adrenaline plummets through your body. You stomp on its shin and it shrieks. The knife almost slips from your grip as you start to stab blindly. You thrust the blade up through its eye socket.

The thing cackles and caws, its vocal chords clacking with mold and rot. Rusted blood trickles from its nose and down your wrist as you twist the blade further until you meet bone and then whatever is left of a brain is beyond it. You cringe as you drag the knife out and wipe it across your pants. It slumps back in a mound and then falls over.

Your chest heaves as you look between Joel and the stalker. His hands are scraped up as he grabs his gun.

You extend him a hand. He seems to think about it for a second before latching onto you and letting you help him up. He grunts in acknowledgment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

This YMCA in particular isn’t like the others you’ve stopped at with your dad. Instead of glass windows and tin roofs, it’s brick and mortar. You and Joel climb in through the window, and you almost sob in relief when you see at least a dozen oversized yoga mats. That’s a suitable homemade mattress, you think.

There’s a basketball court whose court has been warped and fossilized by the leaks in the roof. A peek of sunset dives in through a hole, lighting up the western side of the room. You expect the pool room to still smell of chlorine. It’s a little weird when it doesn’t even though the pool’s been drained for years, you imagine. From there, you two reach the showers.

Before you let yourself get excited, Joel fiddles with the knobs. Water sprays out of it. “Still hot,” he says, absorbed in the droplets that are spraying his hand. He turns it off.

“Fuck it,” you say, tearing your tank top over your head.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Joel says, turning to face the wall.

“You aren’t the one who’s covered in mud!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I ain’t the one who went jumpin’ into quicksand. I also ain’t the one who deserved an ass whooping.”

You glare at his shoulder blades as you unzip your jeans, fumbling out of them. They’re nearly crunchy with the amount of mud you’ve been traipsing through. “They did charity drives at these things, right?” You never really went to any YMCAs before the world went to shit. “Maybe they’ve got clean clothes.”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you turned this place into a strip club.” You roll your eyes and hook your bra on the shower curtain, followed by your panties.

“I didn’t know you were a prude, Miller,” you say.

He bristles at the accusation. “Maybe I should get an eyeful. Being ‘round you is like wishin’ the Lord would strike me down.”

You laugh. Joel made you laugh. First (and only) time, probably.

“Yeah, right, you’d get struck down for something a whole lot worse before he started getting mad at you for peeping.”

You fiddle with the shower curtain and step in. There’s old body wash in an automatic dispenser on the wall. It doesn’t work, but it’s easy to wrangle open and squeeze the pouch into your hand. The grout is odd under your bare feet, but quickly becomes familiar as you twist the lever. Water spits down at you, and a satisfied sound leaves you. “Fuuuck,” you sigh. “This is nice.”

Joel clears his throat. “I’m gonna go look for clothes. And deodorant.”

“You should shower too,” you say instead.

You can almost hear the face he makes.

“God, don’t be so much of a Holy Joe, Joel. It’s practical. This water isn’t going to last that damn long, and I am not taking a cold shower when the hot stuff is all right here.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass,” he says like he hasn’t already told you.

Eventually, you hear his belt unbuckle.

He strips down a lot quicker than you. Habit, maybe, you think. His jeans slump against the floor, and then he’s in the shower. You hear the other faucet come on as the water warms against your skin. You sigh, lathering yourself with the Dollar General body wash. It forms iridescent bubbles along your body, and it smells faintly like artificial strawberries. You wonder if it ever used to smell stronger than this.

There’s a slit in Joel’s shower that exists between the curtain and the wall. You should look away, but you shouldn’t have plunged your foot into quicksand, either. There’s many things you shouldn’t do that you take it upon yourself to do anyway.

So you watch the dirty water cascade down his sharp, scarred shoulder. You eye how the gnarl of his bone adjusts as he lathers himself with soapsuds. He stretches to get his hair and his bicep tenses with the movement. He’s built, and built well. From years of survival, trekking through swamps not so different from these, and aiming guns in places he wanted to and places he didn’t. The way the sun flits through the rectangular windows makes him look golden.

You imagine how it’d feel to walk up behind him, to massage the knots out of his sore muscles. You don’t even notice it, but your hands are traveling your own body now, fingertips going to pluck at your pebbled nipples. He’d been rough when tussling with you in the swamp. Would he be rough with you in bed, too? In your mind, you run soft, open-mouthed kisses down his back, reaching your hand between his legs to wrap around his—

A clanging noise stops your hand in its tracks. You drop it limp at your side. A wave of revulsion crawls like insects up your back.

“Shit!” Joel says, fumbling around in his shower stall.

The plastic body wash dispenser goes sliding out under the curtain, foamy with soapsuds.

You can’t help it. You snort. And eventually, your snort becomes full-fledged laughter, breaking the seam of your lips as you lean against the wall of the shower.

“Shut up,” he says, but you hear the tinge of a chuckle embedded between his vowels. You hear his half-huff of laughter before you force yourself to stop giggling.

You two stay under the shower streams until the water runs cold and bitter and all of the mud that had banded around your limbs is congealed in the drain.

You leave the showers first, roaming around until you find a discarded cardboard box that’s brimming with clothes in your size. There’s jeans that should do well in the elements and another tank top suited for the crushing heat.

When you’re dressed, you call out to Joel that you’ll be in the yoga room. You spend the down time arranging the yoga mats into two separate mattresses. Joel’s feet will hang off a bit, but you imagine it’ll be better than sleeping on the floor.

Footsteps scrape from the doorway, and your head snaps up.

Joel Miller cleans up nice, it seems. He’s kept his boots, but apart from that, looks like a completely different person; his jeans now hug his hips tighter, his raggedy tee from earlier has been replaced with a form-fitting ribbed tank top. Any traces of mud, sweat, or gunk have been washed off his skin and down the drain. His hair hangs in wet stripes, sticking to his crinkled forehead.

You haven’t realized you’ve zone out until he’s waving a calloused hand in front of your face. “Hey, peach, anyone home?”

You clear your throat and replace it with a scowl. “Don’t call me that.” It’s deflection, and you know it. You think he knows it, too.

He gives you a funny look. “Uh huh,” he says. He taps his fingers along his hip bone. “Well, what the fuck are ya doin’?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Setting up camp…?”

“This is a shit camp to set up,” he says. “Stalkers in the parking garage, city I ain’t ever been in before? No, we need a vantage point.”

“And I assume you have one in mind?” you ask.

“Yeah, I do. ‘S a hotel, ‘lil further into town. Got three floors, we probably can block the stairwell from the inside to keep any raiders out.”

You nod and heft your backpack over your shoulder. It’s bulging from the extra clothes you’d stuffed into the bottom, and your arms are sore from the wrangling you’d given it after the collar of one of your new shirts jammed the zipper.

Joel turns to stand guard at the door while you collect your stuff. You can’t seem to focus much on that, though, not with his ass practically at your eye level. The tighter denim definitely does him favors. You swallow the newfound lump in your throat and stuff your water flash into the side of your pack.

It has to be the lack of human connection. It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen anyone other than your captors, and the majority of this week since you’ve seen anyone other than Joel. Joel, who with every word, breath, movement, flinch, gets a rise out of you. Joel, who stirs the pot with you at every chance he gets. Joel, who almost certainly looks at you and sees a reflection of your father whom he hates.

He’d said so, early on.

This isn’t only one-sided. It’s a living, breathing disaster.

“‘S a hotel’ my ass, Joel, this place looks like a loaf of moldy bread.”

Joel insists on staying on the third floor. Says that the second floor is ‘too low’ and that being on the third floor poses a good choke point for any raiders or infected who might stumble upon your camp. He wants to ‘bottleneck’ any intruders, whatever the fuck that means.

The issue with the third floor? There’s mold. Everywhere. In the days after the outbreak, a leak must’ve happened somewhere in the pipes that bled through the ceiling and all over the top floor. None of the rooms you’ve checked have been left unscathed so far. It’s embedded into the rugs, the walls, the ceiling, all of it. At least it’s a good deterrent for the people that pass through. The infected, however? You have a feeling they’d be just at home.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” he says through his teeth. He pinches his nose bridge – he does that a lot, or maybe you just stress him out a lot – and glares at you.

“No, Joel. I’m fucking exhausted,” you hiss. “I’ve been roughing it with you all week, all you do is give me shit. The only thing this voyage of ours has taught me is that my dad has perfectly ample reason to hate your guts.” You’re closer to him now, knocking him back with your fist to your chest.

“Quit bein’ cute,” he scowls. “I’m the only reason your ass isn’t eyeball-deep in quicksand.”

“Yeah, and you’d be stalker food without me. So I guess we’re even, aren’t we, Joel?” You shove past him. “I’m just a way for you to pay off your stupid ‘debts’ anyway,” you mutter under your breath. He wasn’t protecting you, pulling you out of that damn pit. He was saving his own skin.

The hotel room door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar. You lift your knife just in case, and step inside.

It’s lacking the mold that the rest of the rooms have. People have definitely stayed in here before, what with the rumpled blankets left on the bed and a flashlight situated upright on the dresser. The thick layer of dust on the flashlight tells you that they never came back.

The room itself is satisfactory enough. Beige, almost green walls, close in at all sides. A cloudy mirror is hung by the window. Moonlight stipples the room. There’s a busted, corded phone on the nightstand that’s propped up on a Bible, a shattered nightlight, and a small table. You toss your pack onto the quilted bedspread and collapse onto the mattress. For an old, creaking thing with a busted spring or two, it’s still the most comfortable thing you think you’ve ever felt in your life. You sigh in relief and nuzzle into the pillow.

Joel clears his throat from the doorway.

“Find your own room, dipshit,” you say, nudging your pack off your bed with your knee. It thunks against the floor.

“I don’t think so.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m not sharing with you. You snore.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do.”

You don’t have to look up to know he’s doing that thing where he pinches his nose bridge again. “You’re a fuckin’ piece ‘a work, kid, you know that?” You hear his pack drop against the ground. He drags a chair across the room and you cringe at how it squeals against the floor until he jams it under the doorknob. Then, the mattress dips.

You look at him sideways. “Get off my bed.”

“‘Your’ bed? You just discovered it two seconds ago.”

“Finders keepers.”

“Well I’m takin’ it from you. Losers weepers.”

You grit your teeth so hard you hear the bone scraping bone in your ears.

“That’s now how this works–”

“We’re even now. You don’t wanna owe me one, and I sure as hell don’t wanna owe you one. So roll your ass over, act like an adult, and go to bed.”

You grouse under your breath, but with Joel, you have to pick and choose your battles. So you roll back over and wiggle yourself under the quilt, tucking your face into the musty pillow underneath you.

You sit in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at how the moon spills milky light along the alabaster ceiling. Then, you roll over again, stretching out the knicks in your back. Despite being the comfiest you’ve been in days, you’re feeling restless. You know Joel wouldn’t hurt you in any substantial way – you’re a bargaining chip to him. Nothing less, and certainly not anything more.

In spite of that, you find yourself drifting off with your face to him.

When Joel first wakes up, he thinks a clicker’s gnawing at his leg

Blinking the crust from his eyes, he realizes nothing’s gnawing on him at all.

Rather, it’s you.

In your sleep, you’ve thrown your leg over his thigh. Your crotch is angled up against the bulk of his leg, a furnace that sears him through his jeans. Your head has dipped, forehead overheated and angled against the crux of his neck. If it were just that, he’d roll you over (maybe hard enough for you to crash on the floor) and hog the blankets for himself.

But you’re thrusting your fucking hips into him, letting out sleepy little whimpers while you fuck yourself on his leg. That explains why you’ve been acting dumber than a box of rocks. He oughta tan your hide for this. Bitching at him all week and really, you just need to get dicked down. Ironic, ain’t it.

He should still shove you off the bed. Call you a whore and leave you to rub your pussy raw in the bathroom instead of on his leg.

You give a particularly hard thrust, a keening little sound catching in the netting of your teeth. He swears you’re soaking through the denim.

He bites his tongue. The moonlight accentuates your closed eyes, your lashes fan out across your cheeks, there’s a cute little pinch in your lips as you unwittingly try to muffle the sounds coming out of you.

He can’t help himself. He raises his knuckles to your cheek and taps, taps, taps at the bone until your eyes startle open.

When you first wake up, you think you’re dying.

There’s a shortness of breath in your lungs. You feel like you’re being burned alive, your skin hot to the touch. You’re mummified in the crusty, flaky hotel sheets. Each intake of breath is musty and clings to your nostrils. You’re throbbing. Between the legs and elsewhere. Confusion puckers your brows. There’s slick between your legs — and Joel’s leg between your legs.

You tear away from him, making a disgruntled noise as the sheets tangle around your legs. His hand is raised to your face. There’s a moment where all you register is the judgmental squint in his dark eyes.

“What the fuck– you pervert,” you hiss, slapping him across the chest. A queasiness squiggles in your stomach as you inch your way back.

“Oh, no, peach. That was all you,” he drawls. He wraps his thick hand around your hipbone and pulls you back. You kick him in the shin, but there’s no real force behind it.

“Y-you’re lying,” you snarl. But a brief look at his lap tells you he’s not. He’s barely touting a semi, yet you’ve got the entire Mississippi River in your YMCA-issued panties.

Joel shakes his head at you. “‘S why you been actin’ up, you little shit? Just needed to get fucked?” He grips your hip so hard that it stings and hauls you against him. You tell yourself that the moan you let out is more of a hiss.

“I don’t– you’re making shit up, old man,” you say, squirming in his grip. You can’t help the way your hips sway at the tease of friction his knee gives you. You feel lightheaded, a freshly kindled bonfire.

“Am I?” Another squeeze to your hip. “Don’t look like it.” He notches his knee tighter against your swollen cunt, and your head dips forward as you bite into your lower lip. “Look’s like I’ve got a ‘lil slut more worked up than a hornets’ nest that spent all night rubbing her needy fuckin’ pussy on my leg.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine.

“Jus’ say the word, peach. I’ll do ya real good. Make that ache go away.” He rubs his thumb in a circle along your skin. The calloused pad of his thumb slips underneath the hem of your tank top, a lit match dragging along your skin.

“I don’t think you have it in you, Miller,” you say. But your voice gives you away. It’s breathy, coarsened by your sleep-stained, lust-stained rasp.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t think you had it in you to be humpin’ this ‘old man’s’ leg, but ya learn something new everyday.” He doesn’t grind his knee into your cunt — more so wedges it up. Pain blurs a watercolor line with pleasure as your back arches. His hand drifts from your midriff to your thigh, arm hooking around it so he can heft you up against his thigh proper. You grunt as you end up chest to chest with him. Your hips rock into his, guided by the North Star of his hands clutching at your hips. “Can feel ya,” he says. “Drippin’ all over me.”

You grind your teeth, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He groans as your nails claw at the skin there. “Shut the fuck up so I can pretend you’re someone else.”

He chuckles. “You can play pretend all you want, but I’m the one you’re soaking, ain’t I?”

You make an aggravated sound. Your left hand drags down his arm, leaving angry red tracks in their wake. Before he can gripe about it, you slap your right hand over his mouth. His eyes flare. Eye for an eye, his teeth sink into the flesh of your palm. You hiss at the sting. It only makes you pump your hips against him faster. The friction of your shorts and panties against the bulk of his leg and the wrinkle of his denim jeans makes your clit twitch against him.

Your flesh stretches as you tug it from his teeth. Your hand plants itself in his hair instead, dragging his head to the side. His eyes flutter, lidded and dark. “Don’t act like you don’t damn near cream yourself when I talk to you like this. You like being told what a nasty. Fuckin’. Slut. You are. Don’t look at me like that. You are. Been cruisin’ for a bruisin’ this whole time — just didn’t know you were after a pussy beating instead of a real one.”

Your eyes roll back. Your hips roll more languidly, only jerking when Joel gives a particularly brutal tug at your waist. You let out a pathetic moan into his neck. You nip at the skin there, tongue laving over the scars and blemishes he’s collected over the years. He reaches down and grabs a handful of your ass, groaning. “Too pretty to be actin’ a fool, baby.”

You dig your teeth into his neck, hard enough to leave cavernous bite marks in your wake. Your tongue digs through the craters your teeth left behind, saliva pulling from your lips to his skin. He smacks your ass hard enough for your hips to jerk, and you almost glare at him as you separate from your throat. Instead, your eyes squeeze shut.

“Don’t wanna look at me, do ya peach? Mmmm, well thas’ okay.” He fists his hand in the roots of your hair and tugs your head to the side. You hear Joel groping at the nightstand in the dark, and then the flashlight ticks on.

Your eyes blink open to yourself reflected in desilvered glass. Mirror rot surrounds your luminescent face, but most of all, you can see your hips and how they rock shallowly into Joel’s leg. “Watch yourself fuckin’ yourself stupid on my leg,” he croons in your ear. When you go still, his thumbs press hard into your skin. You stare at him. “You already fucked yourself stupid or somethin’? ‘S a simple instruction, sweet cheeks.”

“That’s dumb, Joel–” you sneer, going to look away.

He jerks your head back to where he had it and rocks his leg into your clit. You watch your face contort around a ragged moan. Pleasure thrashes through your system. “C’mon, you’re a dirty girl. Watch how pathetic you look while you get yourself off. Pretend I’m your pillow if you have to, but it ain’t gonna change how I’m the one gettin’ you off like this.”

Your thighs clamp around his. He smirks at you in the mirror. Your knee grazes his bulge, and a breathy moan loosens from his lips. “Two way street, Miller,” you say. But you’re weak — and so, so wet.

You give your hips a languid roll, watching yourself in the mirror. You’re a mess, mouth parted, eyes lidded, skin slick with sweat. Your hips shudder and start against him as you start to properly buck yourself against the meat of his thigh. With the shelves of your teeth, you try to smother the depraved noises coming out of you. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Gonna wake the fuckin’ dead with all that whining of yours.” Mid-moan, Joel shoves two fingers into your mouth and pries your jaw open. His fingers are bulky and ridged with callouses against your tongue. His thumb presses a dent into your jaw. “‘S okay, baby. I like ‘em loud.”

“I like you shutting the fuck up,” you say around a mouthful of his knuckles. You can’t help it. You bite at his fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to sting. He hisses and presses down on your tongue. You make a sputtering noise.

“You were sayin’?” he asks, tensing his thigh. You whimper against his fingertips. He tightens his grip on your hair, and in the mirror, you see yourself bared raw for him to see in all ways but the physical. You rut into his leg with increasing need.

“Mmmph, Joel–” you say around his fingers.

“Oh, now you’re moaning my name? What was it I said? Cruisin’ for a bruisin’, peach.”

Wetness leaks down the insides of your thighs. Your swollen clit hitches on a wrinkle in his jeans. You’re shaking, thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around him. Your fingers grapple for purchase and find some anchored in his hair, tugging wildly. You eye yourself in that damn mirror, the way your chest is slotted against his, how your hips pitch into his over and over again in your pursuit of release.

“Ask for it, baby.” Joel grinds his leg up into your cunt. “You wanna come on me, you gotta ask for it.”

You shake your head wildly. You aren’t a beggar — especially not for Joel Miller. You’d rather throw yourself back into quicksand. Jump in front of a clicker. Step on an alligator.

Joel pouts mockingly at you. “Stubborn for a slut who’s willin’ to spread it open all hours ‘a the day.” You rub your knee into his bulge, tenting his jeans, in hopes that it’ll be a suitable distraction. He groans, knee jerking. His thigh rams against you, and your back arches. You see your brows pucker in your reflection, your hips undulating against him.

“F-fuck,” you whine out, bouncing against him.

“You wanna come, don’t you, peach?” You nod frantically. “Wanna soak me, huh?” At that, you grit your teeth and snarl at him. You do you do you do. But you don’t want to admit it.

You squirm on his leg, desperately rocking into him. You dig your feet into the creaking mattress, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Tremors wrack your body as you work yourself on him. Your cunt flutters, and you almost taste your orgasm.

Joel tosses you off of him.

“You son of a–” you shriek, thrashing and out of breath. Your clit throbs and your hole twitches at the stolen promise of release. You bounce on the mattress, sprawled on your back and twitching.

“I told ya,” he says. “Gotta ask for it.”

“I’m not asking you for shit, asshole–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll change your tune when I stuff your right full.” He grabs you by the back of your shirt and coaxes you into spinning around. He yanks you onto all fours, forehead meeting the mattress.

You back your hips up as he reaches around your shorts for the button. The zipper squeals as it comes down and he shuffles them down your legs. He nudges your knees apart. You can feel his bulge, insistent and pressed against the back of your thigh. He grips the inside of your thigh, fingers sliding through the slick that’s there.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “No wonder you were humpin’ me. Just needing someone to take away that ache, don’t you? Jus’ a horny girl wanting to go cock dumb.” His fingers graze over your clit, barely even a brush, and you let out a mangled sound into the comforter. “See? So desperate and sensitive. You’re cute when you’re not a pain in the ass.”

“That makes one of us,” you say.

Joel snorts. “She’s got jokes.” He rubs a circle into your clit, and then another, and all you can do is rock your hips into his hand. Impatient, you brace yourself on your elbow so you can reach behind him and fumble with his belt buckle. Joel laughs under his breath, working at the zipper while you undo the buckle. It chimes as his belt falls loose and his pants slump on his hips. You work the button open.

You wriggle your hand into his briefs and pull him out, giving him a series of quick pumps. Joel grunts. “Just like that, peach. Fuck, yeah, you know what you’re doin’.”

He teases the tips of his fingers at your entrance. Razor sharp want slices up the insides of your warm thighs as you clench and drip more of your wetness along his hand. “I’ll throw you a bone,” Joel says. Then, with no warning, he slips a finger into your warmth and curls it just right. You claw against the sheets, whimpering.

“Nasty thing.” He hooks his finger and you fully mewl. Heat rushes into your cheeks. “Barely gotta do anythin’ to get you writhing and wanting.”

Warm tears brim at your eyes from the heady, deadly mix of arousal and hatred. Your cunt tightens around his finger, and without warning, he pushes another one in, twisting and hooking them brutally inside of you.

Your fingers fist in the sheets, temple pressed into the mattress. You can see the cocksure look on his face in the mirror, the way his forearm flexes with each thrust into you. “Fuck me already,” you spit. You know it’ll hurt if he fucks you without really preparing you. You want it to hurt. You want it to ache like the tread of his boot stamped on your chest. You want it to sting and simmer like the cuts that the wetlands left in a collage across your arms and legs. You want him to split you open and leave you flayed by your own pleasure.

“Alright, alright,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. He gives your clit a light slap that makes you squeal. You almost black out when you see him bring his slick-stained fingers to his mouth and suck. “Yeah, taste as sweet as a peach, dontcha sugar? Such a tasty little cunt for such a smart-mouthed brat.”

You could cry with how bad you want hi— no, his cock.

“Gonna hurt, baby. But you want it to, don’t you? Wanna feel me all up in here.” He roams his free hand across your stomach, then back around to your ass where he tugs you back. There’s the smack of flesh as your hips meet each other, the whimper between your netted teeth as he nestles his cock between your slippery folds. You nod, head slinging forward. “Don’t gotta tell me. I know ya do. Girl like you, always such a smartass. Yeah, you want it rough.” His voice is gruff, lust-addled. “Act stupid all you want, peach. I got you all figured out.”

He slots his head against your hole and you let out a strangled noise into the mattress. Your vision swims as he pushes into you, thumbs dug into your ass cheeks so he can watch how you take him. You mewl, back arching into and away from him at the same time. Your body can’t decide where to go. If it wants to be further, or as close as possible to him. Joal groans as he sinks into you.

“Tight as a fuckin’ hose pipe, peach,” he says. He reaches around to give your flick your clit — a move that makes your entire body spasm.

“So about as small as your dick, then?” It’s bullshit — you know it, and he knows it. He’s not even fully inside of you, but the difference is startling. He’s stuffing you to the brim, leaving you to scrabble and claw against the sheets.

He slams into you, a blatant disregard of your comfort. You feel his balls smack against your clit, and hear the same thigh you’d been humping slot against your own. A ragged cry rips from your throat. “Joel,” you whimper, hips trying to writhe against the bed. “Joel, fuck—”

“Feels pretty big now, don’t it?” You whine, petulant, but it breaks off into a moan as he pulls back and then punches back into you.

All you can do is take it, take it, take it as he bashes your swollen cunt with his fat cock. You gasp raggedly, each snap of his hip bringing pleasure-pain tears to your eyes. Joel’s nails dig into the meat of your ass and yank you back on him. The sting is renewed, then, as he props his leg up on the bed and pounds into you. You whimper, helpless to his whims.

Between one thrust and the next, the bite in your cunt turns into a thrum of pleasure. A persistent swarm of heat and your own slick leaking down his cock. “Like I said,” Joel grunts as he fucks you. “A nasty fuckin’ slut with a sloppy ‘lil cunt.”

You whine, squeezing around him. Your head spins. “Fuck,” he spits.

“Joel, please, please, ple–”

“Quit beggin’, it ain’t ladylike.” You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach behind him, tugging his wrist away from your ass so you can slip his hand between your thighs. His pistoning into you falters. “What’d I say?” Joel grunts. His knees adjust over the backs of your calves to hold you down.

“Keep touching me,” you whine. “Please, you asked me to ask for it, so I’m fucking asking for it.”

“Told you to ask permission, not cry at me like a kicked puppy,” he says. “I call the shots here. Like it or not.” He goes to yank his hand away from your clit, but you yank at his knuckle.

Joel scowls, and so fast you might get vertigo, his other arm’s bicep locks around your neck and heaves you back against his chest. You sputter, drool pooling in your mouth. Your hands briefly tug at his arm, but fall limp when he says, “Oh, shut the fuck up, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Gotta keep you on your toes, peach.”

You arguably shouldn’t. But you trust him. Enough to keep you alive, at least.

With another thrust into the warm vise of your cunt, your body’s running hotter than an engine and twice as fast. He squeezes tight enough that your air is in short supply, and with it, everything is amplified. Pleasure crinkles through your body like crumpled aluminum foil, serrated and clinging to you. The crook of his elbow is warm, and you can’t help your head lolling back to give him a look that’s purely salacious. He tips his head down at you and smirks.

“Yeah, that’s my hungry little cockwhore,” he says. With his free hand, he tugs your hair. You seize around him, struggling for what to hang onto. You let out a rasping, strangled moan. With your head tipped back, you can see the tilt to his lips as he moans, feel his scruff scraping at your forehead. “Takin’ it like you were made for it. Shit.”

Joel moans as you clamp down around him again.

Tears might be sliding down your cheeks – you don’t know. You’re too trapped in this, in this moment, in the feeling of his cock slamming into your throbbing, aching cunt. “Mmph,” you whine low in your throat as he fucks up into you. He’s damn near bruising your cervix. Each thrust makes your cunt flitter around him.

“You look good like this,” Joel grunts against your ear, using the leverage of his propped-up leg to bounce you on his cock. “All quiet ‘n sweet ‘n whorish. Goddamn, never thought a slut could feel this fuckin’ tight.”

Your eyes slip shut, vision spotting behind your eyelids. He keeps forcing himself into you. Making room. Making a mark that you’ll never forget he carved into you.

Your body is limp as he gets himself off, his hand moving from your hair. He gropes at your tits, flicking your nipple in a way that draws a sloping moan out of you. He slides it down your side, each callous bumping against your skin until he reaches your clit. You nod wildly, and he chuckles into the shell of your ear. “You think you’ve earned it? All you’ve been doing is whinin’ like a little bitch, baby.” He taps his fingers against your clit, once, twice, mounting the tautness of the tension drawn tight like elastic through your body. You gasp down air as he ever so slightly loosens his grip around your neck. He keeps thrusting into you, jerking tiny moans out of you as he does.

Your legs tremble. Your brain feels like mush. You wring his cock with each strain of your pussy. “I don’t want you,” you gasp out between thrusts. “I want you for what you can — fuck — give me. So I guess… that makes… us even. Doesn’t it?” Joel’s finger stills where it hovers over your clit, and you almost don’t notice the falter in his hips with how subtle it is.

“Yeah,” Joel pants. “Guess it does, peach.”

He presses his thumb down on your clit and the whole world makes sense.

You cry out as your juices soak his cock, dripping down his balls and thighs. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant in between moans. He’s holding you up now by the underside of one of your arms, his fingers toying with your nipples. Each touch sends laser hot electricity between your legs.

He slams up into you again and you shriek. “Fuck, you’re a mess,” Joel says. “All stuffed full ‘a me… yeah, that’s how you’re s’posed to be. Sprayin’ your pussy juices all over me while I ram my cock into this drippy little hole.”

You whine, clit twitching against his finger. Tears burn at the edges of your eyes like fire on parchment. “I wanna come,” you whisper, voice tinged with need. “Please, Joel. I–”

“Who do you want to make you come?” he asks as he rolls his hips up into you. An undulating pace that makes you want to scream.

The curdling pleasure in your stomach brims, stews, steeps. You’re drowning in it, in the fire lashing through your body. Fire that he lit and stoked and now, only he can put out. “You, Joel!” you cry out. “You! I want you to make me come, please, I need it, I want t-”

“I got you, peach,” he says. He mashes the pad of his thumb against your swollen nub, rubbing circles, circles, circles. You scream this time, head slumping against him. “Throbbin’ for it,” he growls out. “All swollen and whinin’ like you’re in heat. You needed this. Needed me.”

“I needed you,” you nod, exhaling. You think you’d agree to anything he said right now. “Fuck,” you wail. Your hands anchor themselves on his forearm.

“Don’t fight it, baby, don’t fight it,” he coos. Your nails scratch angry red tracks down his burly arms. “Come on me, see if it gives you an attitude adjustment.”

To your chagrin, that does it.

Your orgasm shatters you. You’re fragile as it tears through your body, tying knots around your racing heart and making your legs quiver. You feel yourself gush around Joel’s cock, gasping for air as your lungs empty. Your cunt flutters around him as pleasured tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Everything’s hot and melting, your arousal dripping out of you in droves. Joel rubs at your clit through it, coaxing in your ear, “That’s it, theeeeere it is. Shit, baby, I’m comin’— squeezin’ me so damn good—”

Joel twitches inside of you, and you whine at his absence when he pulls out just in time. With a throaty, reverberating groan, he sprays the small of your back with his cum. You gasp as it splashes against you, your chest heaving against his hand.

You sit in the silence, high off of the come down, panting in delirium.

Joel clears his throat. “You alright, peach?”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me now that we’ve had sex, Joel,” you say. “I get it. We fucked. We got it out of our systems. Hooray. Do you want me to pop some confetti poppers?”

“I was being courteous, goddamn,” he grunts as he stands up. You watch as he tugs his jeans back up. “Clearly ain’t nobody ever treated you gentlemanly before.”

“Says the man who got off on choking me out.”

He shoots back, “The feeling was mutual, if I remember five minutes ago correctly. I ain’t that old.” He buckles his belt up. As he redresses, you toss your own shorts off to the side. He’s already been in your whole pussy — you’d rather not sleep in the denim shorts.

When you’re done, you give him a look.

He pinches his nose bridge and sighs through his teeth. “We oughta hit the hay. Long day ahead. And you should be too exhausted by now to be wakin’ me up again.”

You clench your fists at your side. “Fine.”

You reach for his flashlight and turn it off.

Reunion Tower is the first building you see.

Dallas. Home sweet home, for better or worse.

The skyline slowly eases up and out of the treeline as you and Joel meander up the car-cluttered I-20. Remnants from a life that’s long gone, all but skeletons with the organs of another time.

You and Joel have scarcely talked. Mostly, it’s just him pointing out directions. But he does other things. He helps you through wreckage or rubble instead of leaving you to muscle through on your own. He gives you part of his rations. He tosses you a magazine he finds in a store. He keeps watch.

You had meant what you said. You fucked. That was that. He was still the man your father told ghost stories about. The thoughtless killer. The unforgiving bullet to a skull. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of peoples’ deliverance to the afterlife. The man who’d betrayed your father all those years ago, a story of which you only know the vague specifics of.

Maybe you’ll ask him while he’s on bedrest from that bullet wound. (Or maybe you’ll just ask him. He’s not the sort of man to stay down for long.)

Regardless, as you two cross the exit a couple blocks from your dad’s base, you ask him, “Do you think he sent people after me?”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Probably went up to Oklahoma instead. Louisiana ain’t famous for bein’ easy hikin’ material. Shocker that them Cockroaches brought you all the way out there.”

You nod and kick a rock with the toe of your shoe. “You think your group’s doing good on their own?”

“Who fuckin’ knows,” Joel says. “Left Tommy in charge of the place, I’ll be lucky if it ain’t burned down by now.”

“Well, you’ve got a whole new world ahead of you. Free of debts and all. Maybe my dad will finally get off your ass. Could skip town, if you wanted.”

Joel’s feet drag on the concrete. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he scratches the back of his neck. “There were never any debts, peach,” he says.

Your brows furrow as you stop in your tracks. “The fuck do y—”

“Got you of my own volition,” he says. “Your dad and I might be on shit terms, but that don’t mean I don’t care about him. I…” He pauses. “I know what it’s like to lose people.”

“Everyone does,” you say.

“Yeah,” Joel nods. He turns to make eye contact with you. “Everyone does. But I don’t exactly wanna go about losin’ you,” he says.

“That’s a bold claim, Miller,” you say.

“You’re good company. Even if you’re a shitass.” He pats you on the shoulder. His hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he gives it a squeeze before letting it drop. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you home.”

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #deadfall fic

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superbat-love · 1 month ago

Text

Flash: Thanks for volunteering to take care of my cat for me while I’m on the offworld mission, Supes. You’re the best.

Superman: No problem, Barry.

Flash: For real, though. Not many people would want to pet sit him, he’s pretty stubborn and feisty.

Superman: Well…

//Flashback//

Superman: Don’t you dare, Batman.

Batman: [scowling]

Superman: I can move faster than a speeding bullet. I will stop you.

Batman: [creeps closer to the edge of the roof, slowly extending out an arm]

Superman: You wouldn’t.

Batman: [casually topples the villain off the roof, keeping his eyes on Superman]

Villain: Noooo!

Superman: [catches the villain, drops him off at the Gotham City Police Department and flies back to Batman]

Superman: I can’t believe you! Didn’t we talk about not intimidating villains by pushing them off roofs? You never listen to a word I say!

Batman: [looking completely unrepentant] I knew you’d catch him.

//Flashback//

Alien delegate: Greetings puny earthlings. Welcome to our base. [extends his hand out for a handshake]

Batman: [smacks his hand away with his clawed gloves]

Alien delegate: Oww! He scratched me!

Superman: Batman!

Batman: I’d sooner trust a deadly creature than this cretin.

Superman, the world’s deadliest puppy: You say that about everyone we meet.

//End flashbacks//

Superman: I think I can handle him. I’ve had plenty of practice with stubborn and feisty kitties.

Batman: [typing on the computer and not paying attention to them] Hn.

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fictionismyreality3 · 1 month ago

Note

your fics are so yummehh. can i request ex to enemies to lovers with ghost pretty please?

Fuck you? Fuck Me! 18+

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, oh god.. it’s smut with feelings 😩mentions of cheating 😡😡

Notes: I’m actually so sorry this took so long I’m a lazy bitch 😀

"Oh, you know what? Fuck you, Simon."

Slamming the door behind you and stomping down the hall of Simon's apartment building, you bit back the tears, ignoring the looks from the doorman you'd made friends with after many late nights of Simon coaxing you into his bed

That was two years ago now.

You'd moved on, really you had. It had taken probably around 100 shots of vodka during the first few months, the sour, offending taste forcing you to focus on the burn in your throat rather than the burn in your chest. A shitty bullet vibrator, sitting offendingly in your beside drawer, the hot pink piece of plastic and motorized pleasure offering you partial relief when you missed the feeling of your boyfriend— ex-boyfriend— splitting you open on his cock.

You'd gotten over Simon, filling your days with friends, family, the dead-end receptionist job where the coffee was stale and the small-talk was frightning. The pit he left in your chest was stuffed with whatever you could find, and slowly, after many sleepless nights, you forgot it was there at all.

Slamming back the strawberry daiquiri, you let the liquid warm your throat, the sugary-sweet taste making your toes curl and your lips draw into a cheshire like grin. The music was pounding in your ears, and you were sure your head would be ringing when you stumbled your way out onto the pavement.

"Y'still drink those?"

Heart stuttering in your chest, the air suddenly buzzing with a familiar presence you recognized so well.

“Simon.” Short, curt, you offered little to the man who had taken so much of you.

When he’d left you to fend for yourself on so many quiet nights, the flat empty as he went and fought in some country that wasn’t his, there was no worry in his mind about having something to come home to.

You could handle it. You told him you could handle it.

Eyes hardened by violence, hands toughened by the hours of holding a gun and not another person. He didn’t notice. You were always there. Ready to greet him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“Y’look different, luv. I.. Y’look good.” Tartness filled his mouth, his bottom lip between his teeth where it was hidden underneath his mask.

Simon didn’t know how to take care of his things, much less his girl. One night at the bar turned to to two, and his returns got later and later in the wee hours of the morning. He shouldn’t have been shocked enough to feel his stomach churn when you suggested that he was cheating on you.

But that was two years ago.

A mirthless laugh sounded from your lips. “I’m not doing this.”

Fuckin’ stubborn thing.

The crowd of the club parted as Simon stalked after you, a looming figure of anger and bitter frustration that sent lesser men scurrying in the other direction. It was a wonder the door didn’t fly off the hinges when he followed you outside. But, Simon could be careful. He could be patient. Even if the only thing he wanted to do was push you up against the alley wall and-

“Could you just leave me alone?” That was more pathetic sounding that you’d wanted, your face screwing up in displeasure at the way your voice came out warbled.

A frown pulled at his lips, hidden underneath the fabric of his black surgical mask.

“Didn’t cheat on ya, luvie.”

He just had to touch you. If he could just touch you, fuck, even get you to look at him, you would see. He would make you see. But you were all teeth, hissing and snapping at him when he tried to reach out and grab at your wrist— keep fighting, puppy— shying away from his touch like it burnt you.

“Could y’just calm down?” Shackled, arms pinned at your side, he kept you in place. “I’d never fuckin’ look a’ another bird, yeah?”

He nearly bit his tongue off when your gaze fell to the ground again, looking all dejected like a kitten abandoned out on the curb. He had left you alone too long, hadn’t he?

“Simon, I’m not-” You hated how easy it was to let your neck go lax, to let him guide your vision upwards until there was nothing in your sight but him.

Yeah, that’s it. Stop fightin’ so hard. “God, dove, look at ya.” He cooed, relishing in the way your pretty doe eyes stared up at him hesitantly, like you were waiting for him to bite. “How could I cheat on a pretty thing like you, huh?”

No, no god, it was so easy for him to get his hooks in you again, rough hands touching your skin like his palms could reach in and cradle your heart.

“Two years, Simon. Two years.” You hissed. “God, you were never around.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. But I-”

“No!” Twisting your wrists out of his grip, you launched your attack, fists hitting against a chest that didn’t bow under the weight of your fury. “You were never around! Never gave me a second of your time even when you were there!”

People were staring now, hushed whispers swarming around you in a torrent. A spectacle of a girl barking up at a man twice her size. Some lady stumbling by offered her own intoxicated words of encouragement— get him, gurl!

Simon let you get it all out. He deserved it, really. He didn’t fight as you pounded your fists down on his chest, beating your anger over his heart. You were talking, hell, you were touching him, and that was more than he’d expected given how he’d driven you away. Darker eyes stared down at your flushed cheeks, rosy from the alcohol and the anger.

“You didn’t want me. You d-didn’t give a shit and you know it!”

But his heart clenched when his saw the tears flowing down them, moving more than it had in two years.

What was that thing Price told him?

You don’t take care of your things, Simon, they’re gonna break eventually.

That’s what it was, the heaviness in your eyes, the way your voice seemed hollow even as you screamed loud enough for the next street over to hear. It clawed at him, guilt twisting deeper and deeper with every curse you threw. This wasn’t the girl he drove away. But then again, he wasn’t the same man, purposely blind to anything good around him.

Simon had tried to replace you at first. Hours spent at the range, hours spent sparring and earning new scars, his knuckles cracked from over use. Time should’ve fixed it, but even as he gave the punching bags a break the blood on his hands didn’t stop. A scab he couldn’t stop picking at, the sting of his self-injury the only thing he could do to remind him that his bed wasn’t empty once.

“I never meant ta hurt ya, luv.” His own regret was threatening to spill over his waterline. “Should’a taken better care o’ya, yeah?” You shook your head vehemently at his coos, as if you could will everything that was happening to disappear.

“Could never leave ya, pretty girl.” In any other moment, Simon would’ve been appalled at the teary tone to his voice, but right now he was more concerned with how the love of his life had gone quiet, eyes glued to the pavement.

“I love ya, sweetheart.”

If you would just look at him to see how he meant it. Just look at him, dovie, just look.

“M’in love with ya. Could never ‘ave anyone else.” He was pleading now, just about ready to get down on his knees in the middle of the sidewalk. “Didn’t know how to.. to show it, yeah? Never done this before. Never loved anyone before.”

“Simon, if you’re lying to me..” You began, breath hitching when he took your eye contact as invitation you hold your face in his hands.

There she is.

“Never.” He swore fiercely. “Never cheated on ya, baby. Haven’t touched a girl since y’left.”

The confession made you falter. The Simon shaped hole in your chest searing with need. The desperation in his eyes, it didn’t even compare to how you felt, and you realized that everything you filled it with was only temporary. You needed permanence. You needed Simon.

It didn’t matter how you fell back into bed with him, stumbling through his apartment while he pawed all over you, keeping a hand on you like he was afraid you’d disappear. In the few seconds you had before he corralled you into his bedroom, you got a chance to see how little he’d changed. The apartment was bare, the spaces on the shelves where your things once sat had been left empty, like some sort of twisted altar he was afraid to fill.

You’d missed him. And he knew it.

There was no time wasted in the moments it took Simon to get you bare, his own clothes discarded in a pathetically short amount of time before his was diving into your pussy.

“S-Simon!”

He couldn’t slow down. After so many nights spent fucking into his own hand, the pair of panties he’d secretly kept pressed to his nose, he needed the real thing.

Like a man starved, he lapped at your cunt, the flat of his tongue lapping against your clit in just the way you liked— because of course he remembered— getting you to soak his face. The taste of you made his eyes flutter shut and groan obscenely into your pussy, the vibration making your thighs start to close.

Digging his fingers into your soft flesh, he parted your legs open so he could get nose deep, trying to bury himself in you. The slick seemed to drip out of you, making it easy to curl two of his fingers into your leaking cunt. The sudden intrusion had you keening, blindly reaching out to grasp at Simon’s hair. It had been so long since someone touched you right.

“S’that how ya need it, mama?” He crooned, voice garbled as he swirled his tongue in fast circles, your clit pulsing in his mouth. “Didn’t ’ave anyone ta fuck her like she needs, huh?” The taunt held no real heat as he curved his fingers inside of you, searching for that spot that got you to make the most delicious noises.

“Uh-huh!” You could almost feel the way he was grinning into your cunt. “Needed you, Si.”

Humming in approval, Simon pumped his fingers in you with a speed you had tried, and failed, to replicate alone in your bed late at night. It didn’t take long for the pleasure to start bubbling to an overwhelming point, leaving you teetering on the edge, like a pot left unattended on a stove.

Sucking hard on your clit was all it took, and suddenly you were gushing all over Simon’s face, back arching with a broken cry. He took it all, lapping it up like it was the sweetest nectar all while crooning praises at you, making your head fuzzy.

There was a sense of urgency in the sex-scented air, his once steady hands shaking as he sat up on his heels, eyes half lidded and drunk with desire.

“You can touch me, Simon.”

Parched, he licked his lips, savouring the taste of you lingering on his tongue while he lined his heavy cock up to your pussy. He could’ve cum just by running his head up and down your folds, but he resisted the temptation.

He had to take care of his girl first.

The stretch was intense, your body trying to cope with acclimating to the girth of Simon after having so many lovers who couldn’t give you what you needed. Your limbs tensed, hands threading themselves into Simon’s hair, trying to pull him closer, closer.

“Just relax, sweethear’. You can- fuck, you can take me.” His hips met yours and he slotted himself where he should’ve been this whole time. Home. Your body cradling him exactly how it was supposed to. “Just need someone ta fuck ya proper, huh?”

He was dangerously close to coming, rutting into you with uneven, eager strokes that left you gasping, heels digging into his ass as you wrapped your legs around him. You were no better, eyes rolling back in your head every time the head of his throbbing cock kissed your cervix, little punched out moans being torn from your throat.

“M’sorry-”

He managed a garbled moan. “Shh, none o’ that, ya hear me?” You were so good, apologizing for the mess he’d made.

Barely hanging on by a thread, Simon rested his forehead on yours.

“Love of my life, dovie.” His hands were brushing the hair out of your face, and the sheer reverence in his eyes knocked the wind out of you. Mewling, you kissed messily at his jaw, hungry, trying to show him how much you felt for him when you were too fucked out to talk.

“Si-” Heat seared in your belly. “M’gonna- oh, god, m’cumming, I-”

Toes curling, you watched the world explode from behind your eyelids, barely registering the choked words Simon was babbling in your ear as he spilled himself inside you with a drawn out groan.

“I love ya. Love ya, love ya, love ya.”

In the quiet of his bedroom, both of you panting and emotionally spent, you knew you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I love you too.”

#simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost x y/n

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emmyrosee · 4 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do a modern!au sukuna x fem!reader in which they're dating and they're babysitting little yuji for the day, going to the park, grocery store, or whatever, and some old lady thinks yuji is their son and sukuna and reader had yuji as teens so she starts judging, making comments and kinda insulting them for having a kid so young. (but yuji is just sukuna's little brother)

I hope what I said made sens 😅 and feel totally free to ignore my request if you don't want to do it or if you're not taking requests at the moment :)

tw// mean old ladies, insinuations of s3x in teenage years, sukuna talking back, lots of swearing, mentions of death, I wouldn’t normally put warnings but juuuuuuuuuust in case

There’s a scoff that rings out in the air as the last of your footstep passes her. It’s enough to make Sukuna stop on impact. You turn to him, and Yuuji in his stroller looks up to see what the stop is, but Sukuna’s eyes are firm in annoyance, the vein in his forehead pulsing.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, spinning on his heel. “Is there a problem, maam?” His voice dribbles sarcasm, and you feel your heart rate pick up from anxiety.

When you turn to face the old woman, her face is twisted in judgement, wrinkles furrowed deeper than natural as she glares past Sukuna and burrows her sights onto you. A chill shrills down your spine as her cold gaze fixes on you.

“Babies having babies,” she snarls cruelly, and you see Sukuna’s knuckles lighten from the force of gripping the handles. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you couldn’t close your legs, hmm? Reproducing when you shouldn’t be. You ought to be embarrassed.”

You cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but when you look up at sukuna again, his grin is curled devilishly. You sigh, “sukuna, come on-“

“No,” he hisses. “I want to hear what the crypt keeper’s gotta say. One foot in the grave, one on a fucking oil spill and you’re wasting your breath spilling bullshit? You oughta be embarrassed.”

She clutches her chest in offense, “I can’t stand you youths these days, wasting your life on each other, disappointing your parents. Why they’d ever approve of you keeping that sin in the carriage is ridiculous.”

You’re quick to grab Sukuna’s collar and keep him from launching at the lady. He’s not happy about being stopped, he’s practically frothing at the mouth in rage, but at your grip, he stands down.

His mouth however, does not.

“I’m offended people like you even get to breathe my air,” he snarls, and you try to ignore the look the old lady gives you- she looks almost prideful to be getting such a reaction. “That child is not sin, that’s my fucking little brother- and even if it was, if you looked at him and the first thing you thought of was my girlfriend and I smashing, you need to tell your fucking hospice nurse, you pervert.”

“Sukuna-“

“It’s not my fault nor concern that your husband died from an asthma attack your dusty old pussy gave him, but if you ask me, he dodged a fucking bullet because holy fuck if I had to spend my days waiting for you to die first, I’d pull the plug myself.”

“Sukuna!”

“You think you get to sit here and judge my girlfriend, my self, my fucking brother without consequence, you are sadly mistaken. And I sincerely hope that, with the bottom of my soul, that when your decrepit heart finally decides to stop and bless the world by taking your life, no one bats an eye. If this is how you treat strangers with a child, I would love to see how you treat your loved ones. Sit on it and fucking twist, you old bitch.” Then, he flashes her a smile, “have the day you fucking deserve, you twat.”

The woman stares at him, eyes wide and jaw agape. You also, stare at him with wide eyes and an agape jaw, and it isn’t until he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to push the carriage again, that you follow.

“Sukuna,” you say, voice shaky. “Why…?”

“Because no one gets to look at my fucking family in any way other than damn respect,” he growls, fingers digging into your hip from anger. “No one.”

“No, I mean…” you swallow thickly. “Why do people feel the need to be so cruel?”

“The world is cruel,” he says flatly. Then, he sighs and shakes his head, “but I have no issue in putting terrible people in their place. Especially for yuuji. Especially for you.”

You smile softly and lay your hand on his, lacing your fingers with his as they rest on your hip, “we’re lucky to have you then, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, “it’s about time you appreciate it.”

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heavenbarnes · 7 months ago

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Thinking of being Ghost's fiance and making invite the 141 over for dinner to finally meet them and he begrudgingly accepts because anything to make u happy and they're still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that he's engaged

mmm omg your mind 🫶🏼

finally getting older bf!simon to have the 141 around your dinner was the equivalent of pulling teeth.

come to think, pulling teeth would’ve been easier.

“well fuck me for wanting to meet the people the man i’m marrying spends 90% of his time with”

“sweet’art y’know i don’t like bringing work ‘ome”

then you’d gone and put your hands on your hips with just one (1) eyebrow raised-

and the lads were knocking at his fucking door.

“gidday- don’t fuckin’ start w’me”

“some bloody way to greet y’guests, big man”

as he corralled all their snide little remarks about “didnae know ye’ owned a nice shirt” everyone managed to find their best behaviour upon your appearance.

it might’ve had something to do with the stunned silence.

when he’d begrudgingly invited them, they’d all been in a little bit of shock- first of all, ghost had a fiancé? second of all, ghost is letting us into his home?

then it all round off with, third of all-

ghost’s fiancé was a fucking looker, that’s for sure.

sweet, nice, bloody easy on the eyes- how the hell had he managed that?

you were just happy to meet the closest things to friends that simon had.

price took lead by drawing you into a hug, thanking you for your hospitality. followed closely by a sweet talking gaz who was already making your cheeks warm with his manners.

naturally, johnny had to chime in with some stupid little-

“nae wonder L.t disnae want us knowing about ye’, i’d keep ye’ all t’maself too”

he’s too slow to avoid simon’s flat palm coming up the side of his head, but it doesn’t dissuade him much.

he’s peachy fucking keen to meet you.

simon eats his tea with a tense jaw, rolling his eyes every time someone makes you laugh a little too long, tells another ‘embarrassing’ story about him.

he also keeps his palm firmly on your knee, nervous twitch of a thumb running circles over your skin.

when you pop out to the kitchen to fix dessert, they’re on him like starved dogs.

“all this time and not so much as a bloody photo?”

“kinda’ photos i’m gettin’ aren’t f’you lots eyes”

johnny nearly falls out of his seat.

you can hear them whispering all the way from the kitchen, for a bunch of SAS guys- they’re not very subtle.

simon’s got one ear on the shit chatter coming from his team and the other on the kitchen, waiting for the slightest sign that he might be able to join you.

it comes- in the form of a gasp from you followed by “ow fuck”

simon’s out of his seat like a bullet.

“what’s wrong- what ‘ave y’done?”

you know the 141 are watching, doesn’t take a genius to see the way they’re all craning their necks around the kitchen doorframe.

“i’m fine, si- just a little burn from the pan”

“lemme’ see, gimme’ y’hand”

so the 141 see their ghost, unshakeable mountain of a man- a face they never see-

and they see his face, and they see genuine fear on it.

they see simon.

your simon.

“i’m telling you it’s fine, si”

“i’ll make that call, alright”

and they’re all looking at each other across the table, trying to decide whether to be impressed or even a little jealous- they’re leaning towards jealous.

so instead they settle on taking the absolute piss out of him.

not that he minds-

before you could even reach your chair he was pulling you into his lap- having you eat dessert perched on his thigh.

as you settle back into his chest, you could swear you feel him laugh.

that hand settles back on your knee again but there aren’t nervous circles anymore.

more like gentle squeezes.

your simon.

right at home.

#domestic simon save me save me domestic simon #older bf!simon #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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aurorawritestoescape · 1 month ago

Text

HARDER THAN YOU THINK

Boss!Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,7k

Written together with @milla-frenchy

Summary: It’s your first day at work and you feel nervous. But what can go wrong if your boss is your dad’s best friend, a person you’ve known and trusted for years?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, NON CON, Dbf!Joel, boss!Joel, dark!Joel, power imbalance, blackmail, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), oral (f), pussy slapping, use of a sex toy, degradation, unprotected piv, gangbang, creampies. Reader wears a skirt.

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this story for @romanarose ‘s Dead Dove December. Thank you for this event, celebrating dark fic, Roman❤️ Milla, baby, it’s always a pleasure to write with you! ILYSM🫂💖

Heed the warnings! If any of this makes you uncomfortable, do not pursue reading. We are not responsible for the content you consume. This is not for everyone and that's okay. We don't condone the actions of the characters.

MILLA’S MASTERLIST || KATE’S MASTERLIST

Day one at your first job started horribly. You overslept, got in a traffic jam and arrived at the office panting and apologizing. Fortunately, your boss, Mr Miller, didn’t tell you off for your tardiness. Instead he greeted you with a wide, most charming smile. You’ve known him for a few years, him being your dad’s good friend and his employer as well as yours now.

Mr Miller was a successful businessman and your parents owed everything to his generosity and kindness. He helped your father out when your family was about to lose the house and your dad always talked highly of his ‘best bud’. You’ve been calling him Joel all these years, but wishing to show respect at the workplace, you decided to call him Mr Miller.

Now you’re attending a company meeting in a spacious conference room, taking bullet points of the discussion on your tablet. Mr Miller is sitting at the head of the desk, leaning comfortably in his chair, his thick thighs spread, piercing eyes narrowed. His perfectly tailored blue suit which probably costs more than your future year salary accentuates his broad powerful frame. Throwing glances at him from time to time, you can’t help but admire the way the fabric stretches over his arms and shoulders. You’ve never thought about Joel like that, he was much older than you, but it was hard to deny how handsome he was.

Joel is listening to an employee’s report, pouting his lips from time to time. Knowing him quite well, you read his face easily, so it’s evident to you that he’s not pleased with what she’s telling him. Joel’s always been nice and kind to you and your parents, but right now you feel like a volcano is about to erupt.

“Are you happy with all this, sweet cheeks?” He asks but doesn’t let the woman reply. "I’m definitely not. I hope I won't hear these numbers ever again. Or you're gonna lose your job in a heartbeat. I doubt your family will be happy with you getting fired. You just had a baby, right?”

The woman swallows loudly and nods.

“Get your shit together!” Joel barks and the employee looks terrified. You feel bad for her. You’ve never seen Joel be so mean before but that's probably part of the character trait that goes with his job.

When the meeting is over, some people leave but three men stay behind with Joel, still chatting to each other. You get up, ready to sneak out, but your boss stops you at the door, calling your name.

“Sorry, I thought the meeting’s over”, you explain, coming up to him with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, the main part’s done but we have something extra on our agenda today.”

Joel gets up and walks over to one of the cabinets. He takes something out of a drawer and puts it in the pocket of his suit pants. You raise your brows with a silent question and he turns his face to the managers,

“Gentlemen! Today is this young lady’s first day at our company and I’d like you to give her a warm welcome.”

You feel overwhelmed when all the attention is focused on you but, fearing to seem rude or disrespectful, you turn to the men and smile nervously, fumbling with your fingers. You wonder what Joel put in his pocket. You didn't expect to receive a gift on your first day, and you don’t know how to thank him properly.

The men hum approvingly but soon you feel uneasy noticing their eyes slide down your body and take you in with something more than simple curiosity. One of them smirks and your face falls. Fortunately, Joel steps up to you and his wide smile relaxes you a little. Knowing him for so long, you feel that he has your back. He takes your hand and holds it in his big warm palm.

“Sweetheart, we have a tradition in our company. We call it “Initiation”.

“W—What is it?” you mumble, smiling and blinking at him with confusion, while your stomach churns. You hope he won’t ask you to give a speech of some kind. You’d die of stage fright.

Joel explains, “Some of us gather here to celebrate our new employee and I’m happy that today it is you.“

Joel inches closer and you instinctively take a step back but he pulls you to him gently yet with unyielding determination.

“Usually one of our top managers does it, but of course, with you it had to be me. Also some of these gentlemen sent me messages during the meeting… Seems that they want to take part, now that they saw you.”

His face is inches from yours and he lowers his voice to tell you, “to be specific, we all are going to celebrate you and your body. Teach you some new things while we’re at it, too.”

Your gaze darts between his darkening eyes as you open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. You can’t comprehend what he’s saying but your instinct is screaming for you to run.

Joel gently cups your cheek and turns to the other men in the room, “she’s adorable.” With that he places his hands on your hips, and mumbling “c’mon”, moves you to the head of the desk.

“Joel, what are you…?” Your voice is shaky, your palms placed on his broad chest push him off you but he’s too strong and soon your ass is perched up on the surface, your back turned to the other men.

“Joel, please, what are you doing?” you mumble as panic rises in your chest.

“Shh, we’re just gonna have some fun, you and me at first, then I'll let the others join us.”

He looks behind you, and you hear the other men react.

“Fuck yeah.”

“I think I will.”

“Give it to her, boss.”

You hear their words and you start to understand what’s happening. Or rather, you start realizing what your dissociated mind was trying to hide.

“Joel… You’re scaring me…” you stammer, eyes wide.

“Fear is a good thing. It means I'm in control. And I want control over you."

Now you feel Joel’s hands rubbing your thighs, covered by tights, slithering up and under the hem of your skirt, while his gaze is set on your chest.

“No, Joel, please,” you plead, searching for his eyes, hoping to keep his attention on you, break the spell that turned these people into wild animals, turned this office into a cage that you can’t escape from. Trying to make him come back to his senses and remind him that it's you, the person he's known for so long, that he is your father's friend, who you thought would protect you from all dangers, if he had to.

But his eyes remain black, cold. The more you beg, the brighter an unhealthy spark shines in them. As if he likes it, likes you begging.

“You’re my dad’s friend, don’t do this to me,” you whine, overwhelmed by his big body caging yours against the desk, terrified to your core at the realization of what he’s about to do to you.

“Yes, you’re right,” he stops, giving you a glimpse of hope, and looks into your eyes. “Your dad’s a great guy but he has a big flaw. He has this pretty little thing for a daughter.”

Your heart breaks when you hear him, your hope is dead.

Joel leans closer and you pull away but he grabs the back of your neck and holds you still, brushing your lips with his.

“If he only knew how much I want to stretch your little holes. And you know me, baby,” he pecks your lips and whispers, “I always get what I want.”

The men behind you chuckle, loving this display of power. The smell of Joel’s perfume hits your nose and your head spins for a second as part of you still struggles to understand what’s happening. You feel tears well up in your eyes.

Your new boss, a man you’ve known for years, wants to fuck you in front of other people on your first day here. You try to make your mind work, get you out of the situation.

“I’ll tell my dad. I’ll tell everyone,” you cry out, making your voice firmer, but Joel just laughs, enveloping you in his tight embrace. To your horror you hear the sound of the chairs moving behind you and then footsteps. You’re surrounded now.

“If you start yapping, sweetie, you and your dad will lose your jobs in a second and I’ll make sure no one ever hires you both.”

His voice is calm, his breathing steady, as if he were telling you the most mundane things in the world, and you shiver.

“Besides, your dad owes me a lot of money. Your family will lose everything.” He searches for your widened eyes and whispers, “you work for me now so it means I own you.”

Suddenly his lips latch onto your neck. His hold is too tight but the kiss is slow and gentle.

“No, no,” you start sobbing and Joel pulls away and takes your face between his big hands.

“Honey, calm down, imagine there’s only you and me here. No one else, uh?” His eyes are obsidian and full of lust and you understand that you won’t get out of this. He will have you.

“Please, Joel, I don’t want to…“

“But you do, baby, you want me,” he kisses your cheek. “You want my big cock in your little pussy. I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

He drags his stubble over your cheek and you whimper when his hand snakes between your thighs.

“You really think I haven't noticed the way you look at me, the clothes you wear, when I have lunch at your parents’?”

“What? No!!”

“Shh…” he cuts you, brushing your lips with his finger. “You wanna get fucked by a man older than you. A man who will give it to you good.”

Through the material of your tights and panties you feel his hand caress your folds and you close your eyes shut, trying to escape the horror of the situation.

"Girls your age want that. A mature man,” he adds.

You mewl a quiet “no” again and he uses the moment to kiss you and push his tongue past your lips. With one hand keeping you close and the other gently massaging your pussy, Joel claims your mouth, licking into it, swallowing your soft cries.

As soon as he parts from you, your hands push him away but his strong physique overpowers you in seconds. He grabs your wrists and makes you lie down on the desk. You’re pressed to the wooden surface by his heavy body as his breath fans your cheek when he growls, “Don’t fight it. It’ll be my way or bad way, baby. Choose wisely.”

In your peripheral vision you notice the men next to the desk, one on the left and two on the right. Like hyenas they are waiting for their turn when the main predator is done with the prey.

You begin thrashing around on the desk and Joel slightly lifts his torso but holds you down with his hand wrapped around your neck. You freeze as panic grips your heart. He’s not squeezing it but the threat is swimming in his blown out eyes.

He smirks when you stop moving. “Good girl. Made the right choice.”

Joel straightens up, his figure looming over you, and then starts pulling up your skirt. You try to stop his hands but in vain.

“Let’s see what we have here. White lace. Fuck, it’s hot, baby. Innocence looks good on you. I know you’re not a virgin though,” he laughs and continues, “I remember a boy used to come to your bedroom all the time. Your old man was scared that you’d get pregnant. Fuck, I wanted to kill that little shit for touching you.“

You take a sharp breath, terrified of how long his obsession with you has lasted.

“I know you’re single now. It’s good. Now you have me. I’ll fulfill all your needs, baby. And will fill all your holes.”

With that he rips your tights between your legs, and you squeal scared to death. You try to slide off the desk but he presses his forearm over your belly, not letting you move away.

You hear the murmur of the others, watching you sob and fight the man twice bigger than you like it’s some twisted show.

When Joel grabs your hips to keep you in place, you turn your head, pleading eyes darting between the men but their expressions scare you. There’s not a trace of sympathy on their faces, not a chance that this vile group will help you.

With tears streaming down your cheeks you look back between your spread legs and find Joel’s hungry gaze there. He’s sneering at you, noticing your fruitless attempt to seek assistance from his employees.

“What’s that, baby? Looking for anyone to call an HR? He’s over there. Say hi, Steve.”

You hear a gruff voice somewhere from behind you.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Aww, isn’t he nice?” Joel mocks and dread spreads in your chest. There’s no way out. You’re trapped. Your only hope is the man you thought to be a friend.

“Please, Joel. Stop. I won’t tell anyone. Let me go.” Your voice is barely audible, you sound pathetic, and Joel’s face softens. His brows knit together as he looks between your legs and talks while his fingers slowly pull your panties to the side.

“I think I’ve made a mistake.”

You gasp when his fingers graze your exposed folds and try to close your legs but he’s holding you securely.

“I haven’t explained your position in this company yet. It will help you to understand what’s happening and accept it.” His fingers stroke your seam and then push inside between your folds, leaving you shocked and breathless.

“From now on you’re my office whore. I tell you to suck, you suck, I tell you to bend over - you do exactly that.”

His voice is gruff and cold, eyes focused on the place where his fingers swirl around your hardening clit and you squeeze your eyes closed, fighting the fire in your core that’s burning brighter with every second of his caress.

“She loves it, your pretty pussy,” Joel smiles, looking up at you, “do you hear how wet she’s getting for me? You should relax, and let your body take what it wants. Stop fighting it, baby.”

He sinks two thick digits into your soft hole and you tighten your muscles, eyes wide, surprised by a heat spreading through your body.

You hear it too. When Joel begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, lewd squelching noises reach your ears, the sign of your body surrendering to his horrible act. A moan crawls up your throat and you muffle it with the back of your hand.

A sharp flick of Joel’s fingers lands on your clit and you cry out.

“Don’t. Don’t hide it. Wanna hear you enjoying it, little slut. I wouldn’t make my cock wait if I didn’t wanna hear some sweet moans from you.”

His hands leave your pussy and he places his palms on your inner thighs, spreading them wider.

“Now— Let’s have a taste.”

You watch him lower his head to your cunt and he licks a stripe between your wet folds from your clenching hole to your sensitive clit and sucks on it for a few seconds. Your back arches involuntarily.

“Delicious,” he mumbles, wet lips against your folds, and the vibrations send shivers down your spine.

You want to hate the sensation his mouth is giving you, but your whole body treacherously buzzes when his hot tongue laps away your slick. Joel kisses your pussy, his gentleness is a striking contrast to the situation. He’s eating you out to make you come, hungry to claim your pleasure as well, and you grit your teeth, fighting it with all your being.

He feels you holding back and growls before focusing all of his attention on your puffy clit, flicking it and rubbing it with his tongue, sucking it in between his teeth, and you can’t help but explode under his ministrations. You begin shaking against the desk, and through the sound of your heart pounding in your ears you hear cheers and clapping from the heartless audience.

“Good job, boss!”

“What a slut!”

“You’re the man!”

Their reaction makes your heart shutter into pieces.

Joel gives his employees his million dollar smile, pride lighting up his dark eyes, and absentmindedly rubs his hands over your thighs still partially covered by tights, ripped at the crotch.

He gets up from the chair and when you try to close your legs, he yanks you to the edge again, pushing his hips between your thighs.

Joel slowly unbuckles his belt with one hand and unzips his suit pants, talking to you, “I thought about asking you out on a date, honey. Making you my girlfriend.”

He chuckles and pulls his boxers down.

“Could be nice. You, waiting for me at home.”

His cock springs free and you feel even more scared if it’s even possible. His manhood is huge, long and thick, bigger than your ex boyfriend’s for sure. He holds it at the base and continues, “you’d greet me with a home-cooked meal and a wet pussy.”

You know what he’s about to do and all your being rises in protest so you slap his hand off and slide off the desk in a fast motion.

“Hold her!” Joel barks and a few pairs of hands grab you and push you down. Your back hits the desk and someone’s holding your wrists over your head, their hands keeping you still, at the same time gliding over exposed parts of your body - your neck, your chest, a slither of your naked belly.

Joel doesn’t stop them. His eyes are fixed on your bare cunt, glistening with the signs of your body’s betrayal.

A sharp slap lands on your mound and sends a bolt of pain through your body, and you squeal.

“Don’t do it again, naughty girl. Or I’ll let these heathens fuck your ass raw.”

You sob, trying to ease the steel grip on your wrists. Through tears in your eyes, you see Joel bring the head of his stiff cock to your pussy and in a second you feel him push it in, slowly, but not for the sake of your comfort. Only for his enjoyment.

His head falls back and he groans, “fuckk, she’s tight. You can’t find a pussy like that in an escort.”

Joel looks down at you with a hazy smile and you plead for him to stop but he ignores you and thrusts into your core. He takes out what’s in his pocket and brings his hand close to your stuffed cunt. You hear a “buzz”, when he turns on a bullet vibe.

“No, Joel, please…” you cry.

“I want you to come on my cock too. And with this little helper, I’m sure you will, baby.”

He begins rolling his hips, pushing his fat cock in and out of your dripping pussy. You whine, feeling your walls spread around his girthy member and your belly is heaving with a mixture of fear and arousal. Meanwhile Joel starts fucking you faster, talking to you like there’s no one else in the room.

“Your dad would mind if we started going out but who gives a shit? I could just throw some money his way. Money can buy everything.”

He winks at you and you sob, sliding up and down the desk with each mighty thrust.

“But — It’s not the main problem. I spend most of the time here. I work hard—Aahhh— and it’s nice to fuck someone between the meetings, right, guys?”

You hear sounds of agreement around you and squeeze your eyes shut, scared to see the faces of the monsters around you.

Joel’s cock is rhythmically brushing your g spot and you hate that behind the horror there’s pleasure, nauseating and terrifying, but pleasure nonetheless. Joel tilts his hips and you cry out when he grazes something ecstatic inside your core.

“You gonna come again, honey?” he coos at you and the pet name he used so many times before, visiting your father, cuts your heart with a sharp blade.

A river of fresh tears rolls down your face but your misery is not noticed by Joel who explains, after a loud grunt, “office affairs take too much time and effort. But you. You’d be perfect as my pretty cum dumpster.”

With that he grabs your sides, nails digging into your soft skin, and starts snapping his hips into you, violating your pussy with his fat cock.

“Fuck, gonna come soon. Pussy’s too good. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The men around you cheer again. Joel presses the vibrator to your clit and you whine, your walls clamp around his manhood and it sends him over the edge. With a loud grunt he begins spilling his hot cum into your pulsating pussy, pumping you more and more, pushing his cock deeper, while holding you with the iron grip of his hands.

You start sobbing again feeling the warmth spread deep in your core and it freezes your heart with another terror. You’re not on the pill.

Joel stays buried inside you for some time. You are so shocked that you don't react. You ignore his cock pulsating inside you. Ignore its last twitches. Until reality hits you and you cry harder. Your body betrayed you. Joel betrayed you.

“Joel, please… let me go.”

He finally pulls out and you feel some of his cum slide to your ass. You try to sit up but he grabs your wrists in his hands, keeping you down on the desk, leaning over you. His hazy gaze fixed on yours.

“Not so fast baby… we’re not gonna waste all this cum, are we? I want these men to remember who you belong to and fuck it back into you.”

You realize with shock that he really intends to throw you to them.

“Steve? You worked so hard this month. Enjoy your reward.”

Looking down at you, he adds, “come on, baby, be a good girl. Steve deserves it. And we already know you're a little slut. You clenched so hard on my cock, mmm?” He wipes away a tear running down your cheek with his thumb and steps away.

You try to close your legs but Joel clicks his tongue.

“No, no, no. I made myself clear, didn't I? Jim, didn’t I make myself clear?”

“Yes, boss, very clear.”

“If you're difficult, your father can say goodbye to his income. To his job. Your parents almost got divorced that time, didn't they?” His dark eyes are fixed on you. Even colder than before. There’s no hesitation or remorse in him. “So if you don't want your father to end up under a bridge, and your mother to whore around with her slutty daughter, you're gonna stop whining.”

He points his finger at you. You remember the meeting earlier. How cold he was, how sorry you felt for that woman. But now, it’s you who is facing this terrible side of him.

“And you’re gonna let them take their turn. Final warning.”

You suppress a sob, even when Steve settles between your legs and places one hand on your thigh and the other around his cock.

“Go on Steve, give her a good fuck.”

You hear the men cheer when Joel's employee pushes his tip in your already sore hole.

“Come on man, give it to her good!”

“Fuck that bitch!”

He thrusts in, grunting. Excited by the cheers of the other men. He fucks you hard as soon as he grabs your thighs and buries his length in you. You keep your eyes closed, unable to meet his gaze, and unwilling to give them any more of yourself by letting them see your frightened eyes.

“Well damn, Steve, you got great moves!”

The man puts his hands on your hips for a better leverage, jerking you forward with each thrust.

“Fuck, she's tight…”

“Yeah? Tighter than your wife?”

They all laugh, and you feel nauseous.

“Come on, Steve. Shoot your load. Don't enjoy it too much. I just lent her to you.”

Steve obeys and comes in your cunt, mixing his cum with Joel's.

Then Jim uses you.

And finally, Paul. He turns you around and bends you over to thrust into you from behind. He’s already groaning, when Joel’s phone rings.

“Oh!” he chuckles when he sees the name on the screen. He picks up and, looking at you, brings his index finger to his mouth, ordering you to be quiet.

“Hey, man! Calling to check on your daughter?” He walks around the desk to sit at your side and starts jerking his cock as he watches you getting fucked by the third man.

You can’t hear what your dad is saying, and your mind dissociates again.

“It’s going great. She’s already showing some serious skills!”

Joel smiles in response to what your father’s saying, his hand still fucking his shaft.

“No, sorry, she’s with Paul. He’s showing her some new procedures, they will be very useful to me soon.”

Paul is growling, rutting into you, and you hear Joel say, “Yeah sure, I’ll tell her you called.”

Paul spreads your ass cheeks and spits on your ring.

“No!” Joel gruffs in a low, menacing voice, after hanging up. “No one fucks her ass.”

“Sorry, boss, she takes it so good, I got carried away.”

“Don’t forget your place. Fill her up, and then get out, all of you. She’s mine, got it? We all… welcomed her, but now she belongs only to me.”

After using you like a fuck doll, the three men leave the office chatting happily.

Joel gets up, his hand working his fat cock.

“Gotta fill you again, baby. I can’t stay like this, with a hard-on, it’s painful, you know?”

You can’t believe he’s telling you this.

“Pussy’s already ruined, anyway,” he says as he thrusts in and fucks you hard and fast in all men’s cum, until he sends his load into your owerflowing core for a second time.

You’re lying on the desk, not even realizing they all left, that Joel has pulled out, until you feel a jacket covering you. Joel pulls down your skirt back over your thighs and grabs your arm to help you up. He fixes your shirt and looks at your face, your makeup smudged, mascara running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna need some rest, baby. Come back next week. I’ll be the only one playing with you, from now on. Don’t forget - a pretty girl like you needs a man like me.”

You shiver. His voice pulls you out from the depths of your mind, that is lying to you that none of this has happened.

“Are you on birth control?”

You shake your head, eyes empty.

“I’m gonna give you an after pill, I don’t want you knocked up by one of the guys. You’re too precious for me. Now get your stuff and go home. And don’t think of telling anyone. No one will believe you anyway.”

As you grab the handle, he adds “Oh, before you leave. Add to my calendar, tomorrow, ‘a barbecue at your parents’, at noon. Your dad’s just invited me. It’s gonna be great, baby. Can’t wait to pay you a visit in your bedroom.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

Other fics by @milla-frenchy and me

Keep on your mean side - Joel x f!reader - dark fic

The Burglary -Joel x f!reader x Tommy - dead dove, noncon

Bad Girl - Joel x f reader x Tommy - dubcon

The hounds of hell - Series - Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy

MILLA’S MASTERLIST || KATE’S MASTERLIST

Tagging some lovely people who showed interest in the wips: @koshkaj-blog @604to647 @megangovier @tateypots @sunshineispunk @thundermartini @pedge-page @mountainsandmayhem @iamasaddie @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @evolnoomym @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

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dollwrites · 1 year ago

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nanny!reader, married!toji ( rich toji too lmao hot take ), age gap, noncon, dacryphilia, virginity loss, heavy breeding kink, bondage, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day twenty-two [ toji fushiguro + breeding ]

you probably should’ve kept your mouth shut. you should’ve bit the bullet and swallowed your pride when Toji said he couldn’t pay you any earlier than Friday for babysitting the kids. no, couldn’t had not been his word of choice. he wouldn’t pay you before Friday. Toji was loaded with cash. you’d never bothered to ask him how he made his living, but you knew that he had plenty and his massive mansion would not be snatched up by the bank if the prick gave you your well earned three hundred and twenty dollars on a Wednesday instead of a Friday.

and you’d told him so.

which had landed you in the position you’re in now.

on a few occasions, Toji or his wife had asked you to tidy up around the house and that included their bedroom. the room was massive and luxurious, with a king size bed in the center of the room. you’d seen plenty of oddities in there— handcuffs here, a flogger there, vibrators in the drawers and even a black, pleather bench with seatbelt-like straps hanging off it in the corner— but you never thought, in all the time you’ve worked for them, that you’d find yourself on your back in nothing but your bra and panties ( which were both pulled askew to expose your breasts and give him access to your core ) against the mattress, with thick, black straps on your ankles that bind them to a long, silver bar. your legs are spread wide for Toji, he has also fastened similar cuffs to each of your wrists to separate notches on the pole. his fist is wrapped around the center of the metal, gripping it tight. he seems to use it as a lever, pulling your entire body to his.

the tears are far from dried on your cheeks, though the majority of the pain from the initial insertion has dissipated, Toji is none too gentle as he ruts into you. your walls flutter about the girth of his manhood as it stretches you to a capacity you’ve never felt before. he was so big, much too big for him to have been your first, and you felt like he was ripping you apart, especially because he had no regard for how deep he was delving into you— each thrust of his hips sent him hilt-deep into a newly devirginized interior. because of this, your face remained twisted into an expression of discomfort, eyes wide with shock.

Toji chuckles through grit teeth, “What’s with the crocodile tears, slut? Wasn’t expecting I’d pop your cherry? Daddy’s cock too big for that itty, bitty belly of yours?” his dark pair coruscate in the dim lighting as his gaze travels over your stomach, pressing his free palm against the lump just below your navel, the size and shape of his cock. you mewl, head rolling about on the mattress, and your teeth sink into your lower lip; the pressure adds to the sensation of being stuffed full. “Ooh, listen to you whine for me,” he croons with faux sympathy, poking out his lower lip. “I’ll bet you’re used to getting exactly what you want with those puppy dog eyes, aren’t you? But, I gotta tell you, baby girl, daddy’s made more girls cry than just you. You really think those little sniffles are gonna work on me? Make me go easier on you?”

his hips grind into yours as he digs as deep as possible without his thick tip bursting through your belly button ( or, at least, that’s what it feels like ), and you cry out, back arching. your fingernails claw at the restraints, arms tensed unable to do much but sting.

“Ah!” it’s more a bestial growl than a sound of pleasure you’d expect anyone to make, his eyes fiery with even more desire at your wriggling. “See, feel that? How your pussy tremors when she’s gripping my cock? You can glare up at me with those cute, puffy eyes and your makeup streaked down your cheeks, but I can tell by the way that little pussy hugs me that you don’t want it gentle. You don’t want me to be nice. You want to be fucked into submission, and daddy’s more than willing to break that bad fuckin’ habit of talking back to me with my cock.”

it was almost impossible to formulate a coherent sentence, batting tears back, but they fall anyways, squirming as if to escape the cocktail of pleasure and pain, and you turn away from him, angling your countenance towards the wall instead. “W—what— what if I t-told your, ah! Your wife about this—“

the most wicked of grins contorts Toji’s lips, and he reaches through the bar and between your arms to grip your face, turning it back to force you to look up at him. “You think she doesn’t know, girl? I’ve only been planning to breed your little body since you started working for us. I just needed a good excuse to break you in, thanks for that.” he pauses, to groan and close his eyes, pace picking up as his hips begin to buck more erratically. “She thinks you’ll make a better baby factory than she ever could, and she’s more than willing to let me keep you here and fuckin’ ruin you until the only thing you want is for me to swell that little tummy with my bastards—“ even as your whimpering escalated into screams, you can hear him. your eyes close, head wanting to angle away from his grip, his palm makes contact with your cheek in a couple, quick slaps. “You can get used to being my little breed-whore, sweet girl. And don’t you worry, you’re gonna get a nice raise every time I knock you up; as long as you learn that your place is wrapped around daddy’s cock, and that pussy is for him to fill with his loads, you’re gonna be a fine new addition to this family.”

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marvelwitchergilmore · 22 days ago

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Trust In Battle Scars

Summary: Joel Miller x Fe!Reader -> Even if you haven't always liked Joel, you've trusted him. And he's trusted you.

Disclaimer: Heavy smut, mentions of battle scars, blood, being buried alive, torture and murder (Joel hurts bad guys), swearing throughout. This is an 18+ so MDNI. Angst and fluff spread throughout. Joel takes care of Reader, maybe unlikely friends-to-lovers. Long fic. Not Proof Read.

Joel kicked the door open once more with his foot as he helped you inside, Tommy already inside throwing things away from the sofa to let you sit down.

“Joel, I’m fine. Honestly.”

“You’re hurt and bleeding. You’re fine, my ass.”

He helped you onto the sofa before he stood back, propped his gun up by the wall and started to take off his jacket. “Ellie, go and get the-”

She appeared by his side, the first aid kit already in hand. “Here.”

“Hot water from the kettle.”

“On it!”

You held onto your side, feeling the blood slowly soaked your clothes. “I’m fine. You don’t need to make a fuss. I’ve survived through worse.”

But Joel was already on his knees, rolling up his sleeves and opening up the kit beside him on the floor.

“If I let you out of my sight, you’d just let this fester until you collapsed.”

You shook your head. “No I wouldn’t. I’d clean it myself.”

Through the front door, Tommy, Maria and a couple of others who had been there to see you get hurt came through the door just as Ellie came back inside with a large bowl of hot water before running upstairs to go and get fresh towels.

Joel reached out for the hem of your top but you recoiled back. “No…I’m okay.”

Looking around, Maria was asking her husband a thousand questions and the others were staring at where the blood was soaking your shirt and hands.

He looked between you and everyone else before yelling; “Everyone out!”

“Towels.” Ellie placed them by his side.

“Ellie, get everyone out.”

She took what Joel asked seriously. Turning on her heel, she started ushering people outside.

“Ellie?”

She looked back from the door.

“Keep ‘em out.”

She gave Joel a mock salute before closing the front door behind her and Joel sat back on his heels, his hands on his hips. His voice sounded less hurried when he spoke again.

“They’re gone. They can’t see from here.”

You were weary but slowly started to remove your jacket, Joel helping pull it from your arms before reaching for the hem of your top.

“Think I’m gonna need your help.” Joel just nodded and helped you anyway. Lifting the t-shirt over your head, he took in your body. Under any other context the thoughts at the back of his head would be at the front. But he was too concerned with the hole in your abdomen to think about much else.

Across your body there were different sized scars. A couple bullet wounds that had healed over the last couple of months, if not years. Gashes – some were deeper than others but they’d healed over. There were a couple of fresh grazes on your stomach from where you’d fallen afterwards, but they’d heal on their own.

“This is gonna hurt.” He couldn’t lie to you.

You nodded in understanding. “I know. But I trust you.”

But I trust you.

That was something you’d been telling him since you met him. Even if you hadn’t gotten along the best, you’d always trusted him. When you first got shot, you hadn’t told anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all day, but Joel had noticed you twitching and hissing each time you hiked your pack higher on your back. So, by the time night fell and the others said you’d gone to bed, he’d gone looking for you.

He found you by the river bed, biting on your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pain. The bullet was still there.

You’d flinched when you heard his boots on the rocks of the riverbank, but he held his hands up. “Relax, it’s just me.”

He didn’t say anything else for a while, just walked closer to you before sitting on a rock beside you and holding up a light.

“Hold this.” He told you before taking a look for himself. You and Joel, at that point, had probably shared two sentences at most since first meeting.

“Yeah, it’s still there. You able to stay still?”

You nodded nervously.

Joel just nodded. “Okay. This is gonna hurt so…take a breath.”

You did so and the next two minutes were the most painful you’d ever experienced outside of being sung the Happy Birthday song.

Joel pulled it out and pressed a bound cloth to your shoulder before reaching down into the small pack he’d brought with him. Holding up a small needle and thread, he went to stitch you up but then faltered.

You just nodded. “I trust you.”

He took that as enough confirmation to continue. By the time he finished, he leaned forward and snapped away the rest of the thread with his teeth before washing the cloth in the river and cleaning away the blood from his hands and your shoulder. From there, he moved the strap of your top back up to help hold the gauze and tape in place.

After that day, watching Joel walk back up the stones and towards the smaller camp, you and him talked a little more. Until eventually you became friends. And out of everyone, you trusted him the most.

And you figured he felt the same about you considering you were the only one he’d let touch him after he got cut. He’d assured Tommy he was okay, he’d yelled at Tess telling her he was fine, and everyone else had been warned away with a look.

But that didn’t work with you. He wished it did, but it didn’t.

You’d opened his apartment door, finding Tess and Tommy stood outside. Tess was growing more and more annoyed and Tommy was looking like he’d been punched in the gut.

You didn’t have to ask them what happened, you just walked inside and for as much as they wanted to follow you inside, they didn’t. The door closed behind you and you found Joel standing inside the bathroom in front of the mirror trying to clean up his wound.

“What the hell happened?”

Joel found you looking at him through the mirror. “Nothin’.”

“Sure as hell doesn’t look like nothin’.” You marched into the bathroom to get a better look as he tried to swat you away. “You need stitches.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Go and sit down. I’ll do ‘em.”

You watched as Joel went to open his mouth to say something, so you took the cloth out of his hands and stood back. “Joel Miller, so help me god, you go and sit your ass on that sofa before I kick you into next week.”

It took him a moment, but he sighed. Anyone else would have backed down when he maintained their eye contact, but not you.

“You know, I’m meant to be the patient here. Aren’t nurses meant to have a nice bedside manner?” He asked you as he walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

You laughed as you ran the tap to clear the blood from the cloth before marching across the apartment and into the kitchen towards the kettle to boil some water.

“Luckily for you, I’m not your nurse.”

You kept looking over your shoulder to Joel on the sofa who lay back and closed his eyes, trying his best to breath through the pain. Once the kettle finally finished, you poured the water into a bowl before carrying it over to the coffee table.

“Lie down.”

Opening one of his eyes, Joel looked at you as you sat on the coffee table. You weren’t gonna budge.

“Lie down,” you repeated. And with a heavy sigh, he did as he was told.

From there, you lifted his top as far as you could get it before ringing out the cloth and shaking your hand to stop the burning.

You hesitated. “This might hurt so…take a deep breath.”

He did so as you pressed the cloth to his wound. A deep grunt came from his chest as his hand shot out and gripped onto your wrist. “Take it easy.”

Looking from his face, to his wound, you gave a small smirk. “The man everyone fears in Boston and yet he can’t take a little hot water.”

“Are you always this heavy handed?”

“You’re just sensitive to pain.”

“Why don’t we swap positions and see if it’s just me being sensitive to pain.”

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be lighter.”

You dabbed at his wound once more and he finally lay his head back and closed his eyes. “Happy?”

Joel just let out a noise from the back of his throat so you continued the way you were. “What the hell even happened?”

“Some bastard came out of nowhere and took a swing at Tess.” Joel grunted through his explanation as you continued to clean his wound before sterilising the needle. “I shot at him but he seemed to get there before me.”

“You’re gonna have to apologise to her, by the way. She’s probably still pacing outside that door.”

“I know,” Joel admitted. “I’ve heard her since she slammed the door.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Joel.” He looked at you. “Or whatever the hell you want to call it. Look, just apologise. She’ll forgive you.” Then you gave him a small smile. “You got stabbed for her. She can’t stay mad at you.”

Joel let out a small scoff in a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“I’d say look away, but you’re gonna feel this anyway. So, countdown from ten?”

Joel nearly shot up. “From ten?”

But then you stuck the needle into him and he grabbed your wrist again, throwing his head back. “What happened to ten?”

“Surprise, I guess.”

“Surprise, she says. As if she’s not sticking a fucking needle into my skin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Quit whining. I didn’t complain this much when you did it.”

Joel grunted again and squeezed your wrist. “Just…take it easy.”

You did so and eventually you finished, wrapping the thread around your finger and pulling until it snapped. You cleaned the wound once more before shocking him and pouring a little alcohol over the top.

He shot up when you did that and found a smile on your face as you screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “Now apologise to Tess.”

You stood and made your way towards the door.

“Y/n.”

You looked back before opening the door. “Thank you,”

You nodded with a small smile. “Anytime, Miller.”

Opening the door, you told Tess he’d live before heading back to work.

There were more moments like that over the years, but the more scars you gathered, the more questions that would get asked by those closest to you. But out of everyone, you trusted Joel. He never asked questions. Frankly, he already knew the stories to each of your scars having been the one to patch them up in the first place.

So when you said you trusted Joel, you meant it.

Kneeling up, he warned you before he pressed the cloth to your side where you groaned and gripped onto his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I trust you.”

Joel just nodded and continued what he was doing. Every now and again he’d feel your nails dig into his shirt as he cleaned your wound before he had to stitch it up.

“Just a little longer.”

You forced a hum to let him know you heard him.

“Wanna lie down?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t wanna move.”

“Can you lean back for me?”

It took you a moment, but you nodded.

“Okay.” Joel guided you back carefully, his eyes on you as yours remained shut tight. “Take it easy. That’s it. This is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head. “Just do it. I trust you.”

Joel nodded even though you couldn’t see him. So, guiding your hand back to his arm, he held it down firmly. “When it hurts, just squeeze.”

“Joel, it’s a needle. It’s gonna hurt.”

“You trust me?” You listened to his question before nodding. “Then just squeeze. This is a deep one. It’s gonna take me a while.”

“Okay.”

As Joel inserted the needle, your body reacted, pushing up and gripping onto his shoulder. You tried your best to take deep breaths, listening to Joel’s voice as he told you where he was at, how close he was to finishing.

“Just one more, okay?”

“Okay.”

Leaning over, Joel cut the threat with this teeth once more before leaning back, keeping his eyes on you to make sure yours were still closed before he poured out a little alcohol onto a dry cloth.

“Take a deep breath.”

“Why?”

Joel pressed it to your wound and you sat up, your eyes going wide before shutting. Leaning forward into him, your hand gripped his shoulder tightly. He was sure to have bruises on his arm later on but if it meant you got through your pain, he’d live with them happily.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Please tell me it’s done.”

Joel nodded. “All done. But you’re gonna need a shower. Think you’ve dragged half of the forest back with you.” There was a lightness in Joel's tone, you only wished you could feel it in yourself more.

Standing up, Joel threw everything into a pile before holding his hands out. “Come on, let’s go.”

It took ten minutes but eventually Joel got you to the bathroom and started the shower for you.

“Think you’ll be okay?”

You nodded. “Should be. Thank you.”

Joel made his way out of the door, leaving it open a crack. “I’ll be outside the door if you need me, so just…call out.”

You nodded, thanking him once more before getting undressed and stepping into the shower. You watched as the water went from clear to filled with old blood, new blood, mud, dirt, a few leaves from inside your hair and eventually back to clear after you got completely clean.

Once you’d towel dried your hair, you wrapped another around your body, you stepped out of the bathroom after standing in the middle of it for a moment, so many thoughts running around your head, none of them were clear enough to remember.

Then you found Joel. He’d been sitting on the top step outside the bathroom door. He stood quickly and took a breath. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to. But when you took a step closer to him, you were mere seconds away from him stepping towards you and wrapping you in his arms.

A hand in your wet hair, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head whilst his other hand held you against his body. “Thank you for helping me.”

“I’ll always help you.”

After a moment, you stepped back and nodded, wiping your eyes before he could see. But he’d already caught them. Extending his hand out to you, he brushed his thumb under your eye.

“Come on, I left you some clothes in the spare room.”

You followed Joel towards the spare bedroom where he left you to get dressed. And once you were, you walked downstairs where you found Joel heating up some soup in the kitchen.

“Ellie’s gonna stay at Tommy’s tonight.” Joel told you. “And you’re gonna stay here.”

“There’s enough room for Ellie to be here, too, Joel.”

He nodded as he placed a bowl of soup in front of you. “I know. But she’s an eavesdropper and I want the truth. This way, it stays between me and you.”

You knew it was a shit lie when you told him as much when you’d all met back up at the bottom of the hill. If it had been just the others, you could have hidden it well enough so they wouldn’t have noticed. But not with Joel.

He was right through you. And he saw right through the lie.

“It’s nothing, Joel.”

“Bullshit.”

“Can we at least eat before you start the interrogation?”

Joel eventually agreed. And so you ate in silence. Until you couldn’t take it anymore and hoped to distract him for a while. So, you asked about Ellie. About her school and her homework. You asked about his jobs working down by the gardens digging up new space for some more allotments.

Before you knew it, the sun had long been set and you and Joel were sitting on the sofa just talking. Until finally a silence settled over you both and Joel’s hand came to your leg.

“You’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later. Unless you really want to know how loud Ellie snores?”

“I really do.”

“Y/n.”

You took in a breath and sighed before sitting up straight. “Okay. But, you have to make a deal with me.”

Joel smiled a little. “I have to make a deal with you?”

You were being serious. “Yes. You can’t fly off the handle and it can’t leave this room between me and you. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

Joel got worried and then silent.

“Promise me,” you pressed.

“I promise.”

With a sigh, you started to explain. “It’s stupid really. It was before I met you and the others. I was travelling with this group towards Cincinnati. I’d met one of the guys one night and we…got close.”

“Got close?”

You rolled your eyes. “We were fucking, Joel. It wasn’t anything serious. Just a way to let off some steam. In fact it had been his idea to keep things casual. Anyway, one night a few of his friends wanted to raid this place. I had a bad feeling about it but…I went anyway. Turns out the place was FEDRA owned. So, I told them what I thought and walked away. I didn’t want to be another casualty for them. Pretty sure the only reason I’d lived so long is because I was someone’s girl.”

“What was his name? The guy you were…”

“Fucking?”

Joel nodded his head. “Trevor, or Travis. Something like that. We didn’t exactly do much talking and this was over ten years ago. Anyway, that night I walked. Packed up what I had to my name, and left. A couple months later, I found an old farmhouse. It was in the middle of nowhere. No infected. For a while, I thought I’d been followed but when no windows busted in the middle of the night, I finally relaxed.”

“Except, when I woke up in the morning, I heard footsteps. I had been followed, just not by infected. His friends, they’d spotted me by pure fucking chance outside another town and followed me. Guess it got too dark to continue following so they pitched out in the woods for the night.”

Joel sat up. “What did they want?”

“Apparently after I left them, Trevor, or Travis – he’d followed after me. Said he’d make me see sense. Only, he got chased by an infected somewhere outside the city. They blamed me for his death. Wanted revenge.”

“Did they…”

You shook your head but stood up and lifted the hem of your t-shirt which just so happened to Joel’s, before pushing down the band of your shorts. Carefully, Joel reached out and kept your shorts out of the way so you didn’t hurt yourself any more than you already had.

His fingers were warm against your skin.

“No, but they did get two slugs into me before I sent them limping away with their own bullets in their legs.”

Joel looked up at you before he dropped his hand, and you sat back down.

“What does this have to do with today?”

“Remember your promise to me?”

Joel nodded.

“Two of his friends are here in town.”

Joel went to stand but you kept your hand on his arm. “Joel. Don’t. It wasn’t them. They’ve got nothing to do with this. At least, nothing I can prove, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed-”

“Someone’s set up trip wires around my grid. I usually go further than we’re meant to on patrol. No-one else covers my grid, so someone has been watching me. At the very least, they’ve been asking questions. Must have tripped a wire and it threw out a knife.”

Joel took a breath. “Does anyone else know? About before Boston?”

You shook your head. “It was a long time ago. And to be honest, when I saw them, they didn’t seem to recognise me.”

“You can’t just go off that.”

“I know, but I have to take my chances.”

“What if they-”

You shook your head. “They won’t. I made sure of that. Once I hit the ground, I found all of their wires. Easier to see, I guess when you’re laid faced to the ground.”

You chuckled a little at that, remembering army crawling through the forest to pull all the wires and watching the blades fall flat to the floor. But that was a bad idea.

“Take it easy. You probably need new bandages.”

Joel stood and walked towards the desk drawer before pulling out some fresh ones.

“I’ll stand.”

Joel sat down on the sofa as you stood between his legs, lifting your t-shirt so he could unravel the old one.

You hissed and he apologised. He was meticulous in unwrapping your bandages, being careful to not aggravate your wounds anymore than they already had been. And for a moment, his hand ghosted over your belly, his thumb tracing back and forth before he gripped onto your hip securely.

“Joel…”

Looking up at you, Joel watched as you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. He continued watching you as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your stomach, before pressing a few more to each wound, graze and finally the healing one on your side.

You let out a shaking breath, your hand coming to the nape of his neck, your fingers running through the strands of his hair.

Leaning back, his thumb brushed back and forth on your hip where he could feel the goosebumps popping up across your skin.

Leaning down, leaving his hand on the back of your thigh to hold you still, he reached for the fresh bandage.

“Lift your top.”

You did as he instructed and felt his fingers dance across your skin as he slowly wrapped the new bandage around your middle, being sure to keep it crossed over each other until finally he tucked it securely into place.

His fingers wrapping around your hands, he let you lower your top as he stood, his body mere inches from you. You could see his chest getting tighter as he tried to control his breathing. Then you felt one of his hands trail up your body, your arm and finally settle at your neck, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck, whilst his other hand pulled you closer by your waist.

Any control you had over your breathing was long gone out of the window.

“We shouldn’t do this.”

Your voice felt too loud for how close you both stood, even if it did come out as a whisper. But you could still feel Joel’s hands fixed on your body, his palms moulding to each of your curves.

“No, we shouldn’t.”

You could feel your breathing getting heavier. You forced yourself to catch it before you swallowed, starting to lean up on your toes as you held onto Joel for dear life.

“One of us needs to walk away.” Joel told you. But you shook your head.

“Don’t walk away. Don’t walk away.” Then you kissed him.

Pulling him down, you landed back on your feet, Joel’s mouth hot on yours. Then his palms were under your ass, lifting you before your legs wrapped around his hips. With one hand firm under your ass, his other pushed your hair back from your face before he walked across to the cabinet behind you before he sat you down on it and had both of his hands in your hair, both of you becoming deaf to the back of the dresser that hit the wall.

Once again, Joel’s hands were on your hips pulling you closer until your legs wrapped around him once more. Then his mouth moved. It moved from your own, across your jaw and down your neck. Leaning away, your breathing became ragged as he found your pulse under his tongue. You were pretty sure by morning you’d have a large hickey as a blaring reminder of what pleasure Joel could just give with his mouth on your neck.

Once Joel seemed satisfied with his work along your neck and jaw, he returned his mouth to yours where he only got a taste for more of you. From there, his hands ran through your hair until they finally got to the end of your shirt. Pulling it from under your ass, he pushed his hands underneath and carefully lifted it up your body before he broke the kiss and moved back to help you take it off.

His mouth was back on yours in a second and the t-shirt you’d been wearing was thrown somewhere else in the room before you started tearing at the buttons on his shirt. Taking a little too long, Joel moved back and started undoing the bottom ones himself as you worked on the top ones.

Once they were undone, he pulled the shirt off with your help before joining the t-shirt. His hand was back in your hair, pulling your mouth back to his. Nipping, licking and kissing your skin, he trailed his mouth back down your neck and across your collarbone whilst his hands unhooked your bra from the back.

“So fucking beautiful,” his deep voice groaned before he pressed a kiss to the bow of your breast and lifted you from the dresser and carried you back to the sofa.

Joel was careful when he lay you down on the sofa before he climbed above you, his knee slipping in between your legs. With one of your boobs in his palm, his fingers lightly pinched at your nipple as he kissed the corner of your mouth. A gasp left you and Joel smirked before watching you as he lowered himself down your body and wrapped his mouth around it, licking and sucking gently, hearing small moans escape your mouth.

At the curve of your breast, he nipped at the skin a little before dampening the sting with his tongue and sucking just like he did at your neck.

“Joel,” you moaned.

Looking up at you from the bow of your breast, he pressed feather-like kisses. “Like that, baby?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling his tongue slip over your other nipple whilst his other hand travelled down the length of your body before hiking your thigh up so your leg wrapped around him.

“Y-yes.”

You moaned again when you felt the hardness of him on your thigh.

With his tongue trailing back up your chest before his hand cupped your cheek, finally allowing you to kiss him again, his tongue slipping inside of your mouth, tasting everything he could, his knee shifted.

So grinding down, you took what you could. You could feel Joel smirk against your mouth. That fucker.

“You want me already, Darlin’?”

Your breath became heavy in your chest and for a moment, Joel took in the sight of you. Plump lips from his kiss, growing hickies along your neck…

“You better plan on fucking me, Miller.”

Joel chuckled. “I plan on more than that, Darlin’.”

The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes trailing your body, he looked like a man starved. And someone had finally put a meal in front of him.

Slowly moving down your body, Joel’s hands eventually found your shorts and unfastened them before pulling them down your legs as you lifted your ass.

Then he sat back, his hands stroking your thighs. “Fuck, baby.”

“Joel, please.”

Even just the thought of what he was about to do was turning you on. If he planned on doing anything like what he already had been doing with his tongue…

You moaned.

Joel chuckled. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You let out a small squeal as he pulled you a little further down the sofa and pushed your thighs a little wider and further up. Then he took his time. His mouth kissing the inside of your thigh, taking extra time for the gash that rounded your thigh.

Usually, anyone else who had gotten this far with you took one look at the scar and..stopped.

But not Joel.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Then he looked at you and for a moment his eyes softened before he pressed a softer kiss to the scar. It was only for a moment, but for you it felt like the whole world, because after that, he only continued.

Kissing, sucking, licking, worshipping, loving your body in a way no other man had ever done. The scars didn’t turn him off or make him stop. The grazes didn’t make him falter in his want for you. In fact, he only added to them. But they were a lot more pleasurable to gain than your others.

Finally, his thumb dipped under your panties, stroking through your slickness. “Fuck, your wet.”

Rushing back towards you, Joel’s mouth was on yours as his thumb parted the lips of your pussy before began circling your clit with a light pressure.

Your moan was swallowed by his kiss.

As you began to grind against his hand, Joel chased his own pleasure, too.

“Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned into your ear.

“Fuck, Joel.” You chased the feeling of his fingers, your body flexing under his. “Fuck.” You gasped, your hand gripping onto his bicep.

“You’re so wet.”

Looking down from your shoulder, Joel removed his hand for a moment hearing you whimper but his own joined yours as he buried his face into your hair after seeing your wetness coat his fingers.

Again, he was moving down your body, slowly pulling each side of your panties down your hips, his tongue tracing where they were.

“Is this okay?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Then he tasted you.

The moan he gave as he did so had you chasing the vibrations of his voice. You needed more of him. Bucking your hips, Joel’s tongue traced around your clit.

“Open wider for me, baby.”

With his help, you opened your thighs wider for him before he sucked at your clit. With a gasp of pleasure, you sat up and your hand fisted at the back of Joel’s hair. His hands were rough under your ass, pulling you closer to him.

Then his tongue entered you. His nose rubbing against your clit, Joel got a taste for all of you and if he wasn’t hooked before, he was now.

You moaned his name over and over as you chased the pressure of him against your clit. “Joel. Joel, please. Ah, fuck. Joel. I’m gonna- Joel!”

Feeling the sensation take over your body, Joel drank up every last bit of you. When he finally came back up for air, he licked the last of you from his fingers before he kissed you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

“Hope you’re not tired, Darlin’, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

Pulling him closer to you, you kissed him again before you let him guide you into his lap. With your hands memorising every curve and muscle of him, your fingers started to undo his belt buckle before you finally got his jeans down his legs, as well as his underwear leaving him fully exposed to you.

Joel just admired you as you straddled his lap once more, his fingers digging into your flesh as you rocked forward against him.

With one hand already dancing across your skin, his other made its way back down to your core. Your arms over his shoulders, holding onto the back of the sofa, you leaned forward.

“How many do you want, baby?”

Joel already entered one and you gasped before sighing, rocking against him as his digit curled inside of you.

“One?”

He added another. “Or two?”

“Two.” A moan escaped you as he slowly pumped them inside of you and curled up. “Def…definitely two.”

As you rode Joel’s fingers, you could feel his cock in the side of your thigh, trying to leave it’s own bruise.

“Fuck, baby.”

Leaning down, you whispered into his ear. “Joel, I need more of you. I need you.”

There wasn’t much left for Joel to do other than guide himself into your entrance, his hands resting on your hips as he led you down the length of him inch by inch.

Joel pushed the hair from your face. “Slow and steady, baby. Otherwise we’re gonna have finished before we’ve started.”

You laughed a little, and so did Joel. “Don’t you mean ‘you’?”

“As far as I’m aware, I’m the only one with self control here, Darlin’.”

You cocked a brow. “Oh really?”

Joel nodded and hummed. So, taking his face in your hand you leaned closer to his lips.

“Maybe we’ve gotta do something about that.”

Taking a breath as you kissed him, Joel’s arms that had been resting on the back of the sofa started to tangle with your hair before moving to stimulate you in other places.

“Hold on to the back of the sofa.” Joel told you before one hand slipped between you both and started rounding your clit and the other held the side of your neck before fisting the bottom of your hair.

Then his mouth was everywhere. Licking, nipping, sucking – all whilst you rode his cock.

“Shit, you feel so good.” Joel told you as he started to push up and into you more, the sounds of sex filling the room.

Joel could feel you taking him in, your walls pulling him up as your slickness surrounded you both.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you swore. “Joel. I’m gonna come. Ahh, baby. Please. Fuck.”

Between his cock, his fingers and his mouth, you felt your orgasm building before your walls finally clenched around Joel as he let out his own orgasmic moan. Both of your movements became sloppy as the wave of your orgasm hit and you emptied around Joel as he emptied himself into you.

You and Joel tried your best to catch your breath as you both remained still, his hand leaving your clit to hold you on him, at your hip.

“Fuck.”

Leaning down you kissed him once more as his hands snaked around you, holding you against him. You felt his hand travel up your back before rounded down and flicking across your nipples once more.

Finally he slowed and rested his head against your chest. And you both remained like that for a while until the feeling finally returned back into your legs, leaving a burning sensation in their wake.

After cleaning up downstairs, Joel met you in the shower where his hands tangled between the wet strands of your hair and your back took on temporary imprints of the shower tile. And by the time you both woke up in the morning, your legs were still tangled with Joel’s from when you’d climbed back into bed after peeing.

Once Joel finally woke up, you both lay in silence for a while, your nails trailing up and down his chest as his own fingers did the same on your arm.

“How’s your side?”

“I think the aching in my legs is distracting me.”

Joel smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Good.”

You kissed him back. “But I think my bandage needs changing.”

Joel nodded. “Grab a shower and I’ll go and grab you some fresh ones. The ones from last night should be dry by now.”

“Okay.” You kissed him. “But feel free to join me.”

Joel smiled and kissed your lips twice. “I plan on it.”

So, after an extra long shower, the feeling of Joel’s cock entering you from behind as he kept your hands pinned against the tile still fresh inside of you, Joel changed your bandage and you both finally got dressed.

By the time Ellie and Maria came knocking on the back door and entering the kitchen, it was like nothing had changed. Ellie might not have noticed it, but Maria certainly did.

“I brought you some antiseptic cream. Should help with the healing.”

“Thanks.”

Joel looked towards Ellie. “You had breakfast?”

Maria shook her head. “Tried to, but she wanted to see you as soon as she could.”

Joel nodded before sucking the bacon grease off his thumb. “Grab a plate. Maria, you staying?”

“No, best not. I’ve got a council meeting in twenty minutes.”

“Coffee to go?” You offered.

Maria nodded, a little confused as she watched the picture play out in front of her. “Uh, yeah. That’d be lovely. Thanks.”

In front of her she saw Joel…happy. His eyes practically followed every movement you made before the eggs spat in the pan and he turned his attention back to his cooking. His hand at your hip as he rounded you to get into another drawer, your hand on his back as you passed him to grab a to-go lid from under the sink.

The way you both looked at each other…it was the same as before but just…more.

“Here you go.”

Maria smiled for a few reasons other than the coffee you handed her. “Thanks. See you guys later?”

You and Joel looked at each other, a little confused. “For what?”

Maria’s brows furrowed. Had you literally fucked the brains out of each other?

“It’s movie night.” Ellie told everyone. Joel looked at his daughter, his brain finally kicking into gear.

“Right. Yeah, yeah. We’ll be there.”

Maria smiled. “Great. Well, I better run. Enjoy breakfast.”

Leaving, you turned back to Joel. “I completely forgot.”

“Same here.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel before transferring breakfast across to three plates.

The rest of the day ran smoothly. Maria made sure to keep you and Joel at a distance from each other when helping set up. If the morning was anything to go by, both of your functioning brains disappeared when you were together.

But she didn’t miss the constant eye-fucking across the room you gave to each other. Especially when the other wasn’t looking.

And it was only when you and Joel passed each other in the supply closet you got a few moments together which each time got interrupted by someone calling for either one of you or someone making their way down the empty hallway towards the supply closet.

That would be when you and Joel would jump apart and put an entire row of shelved between you both, you making small conversation as Joel turned his back, straightened out his mustache, grabbed the box he’d gone in for, slip past you, his hand patting or pinching your ass despite his eyes being fixed on the floor before he got an easy escape in order to cool down.

And once you’d gotten back home, he did everything he’d wanted to do to you in the supply closet, at home. At least until Ellie walked through the front door, calling out for him telling him she was home.

The routine you and Joel had set that night continued for almost a month. In between then, Ellie had worked out something had finally happened between you and Joel, as had Maria and Tommy.

A few others around town had worked it out, too, though they never had full confirmation.

Until the day came where you went missing.

You had meant to pass by the school and walk home with Ellie since it was Joel’s turn to cook dinner. Only, when Ellie walked inside half an hour late and without you, Joel grew a little concerned as well as a little annoyed.

You were never one to bail a plan, or even be late. So why weren’t you with Ellie?

“She didn’t show.”

“What do you mean she didn’t show?”

Ellie shrugged and dropped her bag by the door. “She didn’t show.”

Joel still fixed you a plate anyway. Maybe your work had run over. Only, the worry in the pit of his stomach seemed to grow more when he saw his brother.

“Tommy, have you seen Y/n?”

Tommy nodded his head as he wiped down the bar. “Yeah, earlier. She covered Charlotte’s shift on patrol during dinner time.”

Even with taking the extra shift, you still would have finished in time to walk with Ellie.

“Have you seen her since?”

Tommy shook his head but then called out for someone. A guy dressed in a dark coat walked over. “What can I do for you, Tommy boy?”

“You seen Y/n?”

The guy looked from Tommy, to Joel and Ellie. “Not since the start of patrol. But she should be back by now.”

“Why? What happened?”

The guy shrugged. “One of the fellas said she’d headed back early for something. She wouldn’t say what. They’d finished most of their grid so he finished up on his own and met us back at the bottom of the hill.”

“And you haven’t seen her since?”

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Joel. I haven’t.”

“Thanks anyway.”

He nodded. “If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“Thanks, Bryan.”

Tipping his hat, he walked away and back to his table. Then Joel grabbed his jacket. “Ellie, stay with Tommy.”

“Where are you going?”

“Check her house. Stay with Tommy,” Joel repeated as he saw Ellie go to stand. She reluctantly sat back down.

He was outside your home in fifteen minutes. He called out your name but no reply came. Finding the spare key, he let himself in before looking around the place. Nobody. Then he checked his own home. Then the gardens, school, movie theatre and finally the bar again.

“Find her?”

Joel shook his head. “No.”

But then he heard a laugh, and something dropped in his stomach. Turning around, his eyes made contact with another pair.

You’d pointed out to Joel the men who you knew from before Boston. And there they sat, with a satisfied look in their eyes.

“You looking for your woman, Miller? Or is she just fucking you like she fucked Travis?”

Joel was across the floor in five seconds flat, his hands at the collar of one of them. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

But he just laughed. Joel looked back at Tommy who just nodded to a side door. Everyone in the bar had gone silent, but he wasn’t worried about them. Ellie didn’t need to see what he was about to do.

So dragging the guy with him, he pulled him through the swinging door, meanwhile Tommy and a few others surrounded the other friend before he could make a move to attack Joel.

“The bitch should still be alive if you can find her in time.”

Mostly the guy just laughed in Joel’s face until Joel had him slumped on the floor and had him screaming with a knife in his knee.

“You psycho fucker!”

Joel remained calm. “Where is she?”

“Like I’d tell you,” Joel stabbed him once more. “I’m gonna ask you one more time and if you don’t tell me, I’ll pop your fucking knee cap off.”

“Fuck you.”

Joel twisted the knife. “Okay, okay! She’s in the upper grid! She’s in the upper grid!”

Joel searched his eyes, turning the guy’s head from side to side. “If you’re lying-”

“I’m not!” He cried. “I’m not. I swear.”

“Okay.”

The guy calmed down a little. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So you’ll let me-” He screamed in pain as Joel shattered his knee. “Ah! Fucker! You promised.”

“I didn’t promise you a fucking thing.”

Joel stood and wiped the knife clean. “You and your friend better be gone before I get back.”

“How?! You’ve just broke my fucking leg!”

“Then crawl. Whilst you can still do that.”

The guy cried in pain. “You crazy fucker! You’ll pay for this! I swear, you’ll pay for this!”

Joel didn’t look back as he walked back through the door. “Call a fucking lawyer.”

The guy's screams of pain died away with the swinging of the door and by the look on the other guy’s face, he was shitting himself.

Joel grabbed him by the collar. “You know where she is?”

He nodded. “Take me.”

“But-”

Joel shot him in the leg.

“Alright! Alright!”

Dragging him by the collar, Joel carried him outside and through the town. Meanwhile, Ellie sat and watched from the cover of the bar before turning to Tommy who came to her side.

“He’ll find her.”

Tommy nodded. “Hopefully.”

But Ellie was adamant. “He found me. He’ll find her.”

Tommy didn’t know the full story about what happened after his brother and Ellie left Jackson the first time, but going off how he’d reacted to finding you gone and in danger and how he’d been on Outbreak Day with Sarah…Tommy had a feeling someone wasn’t coming back.

After forty minutes, the guy lifted his hand, “She’s in there.”

The only thing there was a mound of dirt. The guy was already crying.

“We buried her. She should still be alive-” He didn’t finish his sentence because the blow of the bullet at the base of his skull shut him up.

And Joel got to work, shovelling piles of dirt as quickly as he could.

“Joel!”

From the hill, a few others appeared with guns. “We heard a shot-” Then they realised.

“Grab a shovel! Help me!”

And they did.

Eventually, they hit a wooden box.

“Joel, she’s here.” Bryan told him before wiping the thin layer of dirt from the edges where both himself and Joel stabbed at the edges with their shovels, using them as a crowbar until finally the top popped off.

Seeing more light than before, your lungs seemed to rush with air quicker than you could breathe it in. Sitting up quickly, you felt a pair of hands on you.

“Get off me! Get off me!”

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s me. Y/n, it’s me. Hey, hey, look at me.”

Holding your face in his hands, your vision cleared to find Joel standing in front of you. “J-Joel?”

“Hey.”

Joel helped you up quickly, pulling you into his arms as his back rested against the side of the grave, your sobs falling against his chest.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Bryan laid a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take her home. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Joel nodded, his hand at the back of your head. “Come on. I’ll help you out.”

And he did. You were still shaking like a leaf.

With his jacket over your shoulders, Joel held you into his side as you both walked back to town and towards home.

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

Those were the first words you’d spoken to him since the morning when you’d kissed him goodbye.

Joel shook his head as he was crouched in front of you, washing your face for you. Despite the shower, there still seemed to be dirt in your eyes.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

You nodded but he still had to tell you the same a day later when you woke up in his bed for the second time since he’d woken you up to tell you he’d be back in one hour. When you finally did pull yourself out of bed, you opened up the bedroom door to find Ellie standing to attention.

Neither of you said anything but in a few moments, she ran towards you and hugged you. It wasn’t long before you both sunk to the floor.

“I’m so sorry I was late.”

Ellie shook her head. “Are you going to be okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks to Joel.” You tried your best to dry your tears. “Where is he?”

“Still with Tommy. They’re still dealing with the guys that…” Ellie skipped over that part. “Everyone is on your side, and Joel’s side, too.”

You just nodded again. “Good.”

Then Ellie leaned forward and hugged you again before you both heard a familiar pair of boots walk up the stairs. “You’re awake.”

“I think so, at least.”

“I’ve got breakfast.”

The morning was mostly spent in silence until Ellie fell asleep tucked into your side of the sofa. Joel went to pick her up to carry her to bed but you stopped him. “Leave her.”

He did so and sat on your otherside, his arm resting around your shoulders whilst his hand brushed the back of Ellie’s sleeping head.

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

You shook your head. “No matter where I go, I seem to collect scars. And they never let me go.”

Joel pressed a kiss to your head before gently placing his other hand on your thigh. “You should be proud of them. They’re a sign you survived. They’re a sign you’re still alive and here. With us.”

Looking at Joel, all you saw on his face was sincerity. He truly meant it, and truly believed it, too. Leaning up, you let him kiss you gently before you settled your head against his chest.

Maybe he was right. You knew he was right. You trusted he was right.

Especially when you’d come to learn of all the ways Joel could appreciate your survival, proving to you how you could appreciate it, too.

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simonrileysfavteacup · 10 months ago

Text

Training

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word Count: 600

Warnings: simon being slutty n walking around in grey sweatpants, playfighting, minor smut, mentions to sex

Summary: Simon teaches you to fight.

After the attack on you, Simon became panicked.

The more he loved you, the more people would use you as his weakness. He knew one thing.

He wouldn’t always be there to protect you.

So you would have to know how to protect yourself.

So there he was. Moving the sofa in your shared apartment, creating a bit of space. He laid down a throw blanket. It was small, but it would work. He was shirtless, in just his grey sweatpants.

You, however, stood off to the side, watching him move your pullout sofa with little effort. You take a deep breath as he calls you into the makeshift fighting ring.

“Okay, lovie,” he starts. “Hit me. As har’ as you can.”

You throw a weak punch at his chest. He doesn’t even blink.

“Lovie, what the absolute fuck was ‘at?”

“A punch…”

“Lovie, ‘at wasn’t even a poke. Try again.”

You hit him again, a bit harder. His chest is like a rock. You pull your hand back after the impact, wincing as your first stings. “Ow! You’re like wood! That’s not fair!”

“Yer doing everythin’ wron’.”

You pout at his words, “I’ve never fought before…I’m just…I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

He shakes his head, “Too bad. Lovie, ‘m doin’ this for you. Now, come on, I’ll show ya.” He fixes your posture, “Keep tension here. Pull your first back. Shift your weight onto this foot.”

You shift, “This is hard.”

“Learn,” he puppets you, throwing a faux punch with your hand. “Like that.”

You throw a better punch, finally making him stumble. Just slightly.

“That was better. Again.”

He teaches you numerous kicks, punches, and even a way to hold a person and put pressure on their neck. He tells you to demonstrate, to hit him, but your eyes are focused on something else.

His abs.

His arms look so good, so huge. His abs glisten with the smallest amount of sweat. He looks so good.

“Lovie,” he snaps in front of your face. “Oi. Focus.”

Your eyes snap up to his, “You’re distracting me.”

“Am I?” he flexes.

You gasp, “Asshole.”

He smiles, “Deal with i’. Now come on, we have work to do.”

“Fine,” You strip off your shirt, your bra hugging your tits. “Let’s go.”

His eyes lock on your tits.

You chuckle, snapping your fingers in front of his face, mocking him. “Lovie, my eyes are up here.”

“Fuck this,” he tackles you onto your couch, pressing his lips to your exposed skin.

***

“Okay,” Simon says, putting your ear protectors on. “All good?”

You give him a thumbs up. He presses his front into your back, puppeting you. He aims the gun into your hand at the target.

“Okay, shoot.”

The shot echoes off the walls of the shooting range. Your bullet hits the dummy’s shoulder.

“Nice! ‘Ats not bad, lovie!” Simon smiles wide, kissing your temple. “Again.”

You shoot again. It hits the left pec. Another kiss.

Another shot. Hits the neck. Another kiss.

Simon lets you practise for another 10 minutes. He feels proud. Too proud. “Lovie?”

You stop. “Hmm?”

“You’re great. Can we go home now, hmm?”

“Okay,” you smile, taking off the protectors. “Thanks for teaching me this.”

“After what happened, I’d be a fool not to,” he kisses you. “Yer my whole life.”

He presses himself into you.

“Now, we’ve got a little problem. Yer solving it in the car. Let’s go. Legs spread.”

#ghost call of duty #ghost imagine #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #simon #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader

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eccentricallygothic · 1 year ago

Note

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress.

Not that they would be doing any more of that.

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.

His eyes scan your form.

Beautiful.

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time.

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete.

It is the people that live in it.

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly.

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.

You should have taken notice of the signs.

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.

And Divine it was, you lived to learn.

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened?

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighs.

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval.

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions."

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close.

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back.

The man is not chasing you like you expected.

But you don't want to stick around and find out why.

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused.

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying.

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.

But you don't know when he does it.

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him.

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him.

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck.

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well.

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test.

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence.

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat.

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment.

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while.

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed.

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

What do you think hAH-

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