#frank woods smut

[maymaylyn]

Frank Woods x reader - Taking the long way home after the bars

Warning contains unlawful driving and sexual content whops

He's a little tipsy and has a good buzz of warmth running through him, making his eyes wonder and hands a little tighter around your thigh than necessary.

However, you are a little more gone than he is, cutting back a little and enjoying what little downtime you both have. Leaning onto him, nuzzling his neck, and taking in his scent. Lips start to get loose and aching to taste, and you start to kiss on whatever skin you have. Hearing him groan and feel his arm come around to pull you closer while the other is on the wheel. You get bolder and greedy, sucking and starting to rub your hand up his thick thigh.

As soon as you get to his chub and give him a squeeze, he growls out and frantically pulls the car over to the side of the empty back road you were driving on. Putting his car in park after a hard stop instantly made your foggy brain clear up. Manhandling you into his lap and forcing you against the whole of him was an awkward angle, but the way it made your hips rut against his shot pleasure up both your spines.

Sloppy, wet kisses were the only thing keeping you both alive at the moment, and dry humping? Well, that was more of a bonus. Frank could only take so much of that before he was getting restless and restricted in the cramped driver's side. Shoving the door open and tossing you both out, he pushed you up against the car, making you grab onto it for dear life as he yanked your jeans down. Getting on his knees and diving into your core before he even got your underwear down, making you gasp into the cold air of the night with his roughness.

He had to go to a shop to remove the dent from the side of his back door, caused by him fucking you on the side of the car.

.

.

.

[lunarduty]

𝙋𝙊𝙄𝙎𝙊𝙉𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙐𝙀

☾ how the cod men eat pussy. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES + FRANK X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. oral (female receiving). female reader. WC | 1,029

JOHN PRICE is patient, methodical, and just a little bit sadistic - a recipe for a man who will eat you out slowly and thoroughly and string you along until he decides you deserve to cum. he’s relentless and a quick learner, and will go out of his way to learn every single way to wind you up and make you needy on his tongue. his sadism comes through when you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm - teasing you about cumming so quickly, but ultimately forcing you over with a quirk of his fingers because john can never deny you anything. he likes to watch you fall apart. takes a selfish pleasure in hearing his own name tumble from your lips.

GAZ eats you out like he’s starving. intent on satisfying his needs and yours. he’s usually pretty sweet and gentle about it - paying compliments whenever he can, telling you how pretty you sound, proud that you’re falling apart so fucking easily. gaz does have a habit of withdrawing just a little when things get intense and he’s really trying to make you cum. he takes his missions very seriously and would wholly focus on finding the right rhythm of tongue and fingers. moans alongside you when you finally cum, and he always watches when you do. for gaz, there’s very little else he loves than watching your body keen on his tongue.

SOAP knows his way around a pussy. pretty experienced, and yet, he loves the thrill of learning new tricks that make you breathe out his name like a prayer. he’s very touchy - kissing your thighs, gripping your hips, letting his breath waft over your clit without actually touching you. soap likes to wind you up for the sole purpose of making you desperate - he likes it when you rock up against his face. craving more of him and seeking out what you want and soap fully lets you ride his tongue, groaning out praise as you do so. he can get a little carried away, and you’ll probably have some bruises on your hips in the morning. definitely french kisses you afterwards, making it a point to let you know just how fucking good you taste.

GHOST has the tendency to get too serious when going down on you. he mainly just tries to give it his all, wanting you to enjoy yourself. he goes quiet in the beginning but it isn’t long until ghost fully lets his walls down. groaning against your pussy, cock throbbing in his pants when your thighs lock around his head, and he gets kinda pussy drunk. you can pull at his hair, suffocate him between your thighs, moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear - he doesn’t care. not when you’re finally cumming on his fingers and ghost can’t help but remember how good you feel around his cock so he’s pulling himself away from you before you fully finish cumming and he’s tugging his pants down and…

ALEJANDRO is always very eager to eat you out any time you let him. loves getting nasty with it and making a huge mess on whatever surface he put you on. sitting on his face and riding his tongue is probably his most favorite - he just thinks there’s something very hot about having his hands on your waist, controlling the way you grind down against his mouth. and when you get close, it’s like alejandro does, too - gets very vocal to match your moans and loves to dirty talk because it always winds you up even more and you always look the most beautiful when you’re cumming with a hint of bashfulness on your face. you’ll cum hard and quick and alejandro will just keep going.

RUDOLFO is slow and sweet, taking his time to kiss every inch of skin and make sure the mood is perfect before finally giving you his mouth. asks you frequently if you’re enjoying it and has a surprisingly potent praise kink - rudy works even better when you tell him exactly how good he’s making you feel and how much you want him to make you cum. he absolutely lives for the little things, like your fingers curling into his hair or the breathless version of his name or the light squeeze of your thighs against his ears. he very purposefully builds up your orgasm at a gradual pace before letting it hit all at once - rudy is so sweet, but he gets a sick sort of pleasure from making you cum so hard, you don’t even realize he’s kissing you until you can taste yourself on his tongue.

GRAVES likes to brag that he can make you cum in under three minutes and it’s even worse knowing that he absolutely can. he gets almost aggressive in the way he eats you out - barely allowing you a break, constantly turning the tables on you, never letting you predict his next move. physical contact can soften him up though. caress his hair and face and you can convince him to slow down for a little bit, allowing himself a chance to just watch you ride his fingers. but fuck, graves loves the way you look and taste and he’ll tell you about every single detail between flicks of his tongue. his arrogance can get annoying, but when he makes you cum until you’re going blind, and then asks if he should keep going, it’s easy to forgive.

FRANK WOODS will eat you out in any way you want him to, just as long as he can - he’s not fuckin’ picky. he’ll always be wearing a cocky little grin when he gets you so completely lost, and will say something to the effect of turning you stupid. can and has used his whole arm to hold you down when he was feeling particularly cruel and you’re bucking your hips desperately. this is usually the time frank likes to mix things up, just to keep you on your toes - using a hint of teeth, adding another finger, groaning loudly against your clit. and after your orgasm, he’ll just keep pumping his fingers until you have to physically pull him off you.

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

Okay everyone in the cod fandom thirsting over mw characters, it’s time to introduce u mfs to the black ops world cuz honestly I’m tired of the lack of appreciation and fanfics (mostly fanfics) these people get.

Lemme introduce you to some of the main baes

This mf right here is a grade a ASSHOLE but it’s why we love him. Honestly if you love effed up relationships and angst you should read some of the bell x adler fics going on. Bell is YOU. It’s the customisable character in Cold War who Russell Adler brainwashed and it’s a whole thing and it’s toxic af to pair them but I fuggin loveeee itttt (second pic posted by @adlerboi)

Alex Mason <3333 my wifey for lifey

He was brainwashed by the Soviet’s and he’s our fave lil mentally scarred old man. Seriously tho it’s criminal the lack of love this guy gets he is so handsome

Ahhh mr frank Woods. Asshole but not in the same way Russell adler is. He’s the kinda guy who would act annoyed when you ask him to hold your drink but would protect that mf with his LIFE. Would treat you right but it’s a whole ‘dick to everyone else but sweet as pie to you’ kinda vibe yk?

Miss Helen Park. Honestly we should hate her. She manipulated and brainwashed us alongside adler but would I kiss her on the lips? Maybe possibly yes. Nuff said

The CRIMINALLY underrated navy seals commander david mason. Yes he’s alex masons son yes we keep it in the family here. He has some mental scars like his father but honestly who doesn’t?! Handsome as fuck, and so kind and respectful <3 I luv him

So please guys I beg you!! Play black ops 1, 2 and Cold War so we can get some love for these guys!!

If you like the sound of it please read this fic about adler x bell omg my heart

[k6tzie]

I’ve seen your work and I just- augh😩. 10/10, and I was wondering if you could do some p-links for Woods or Reznov?👀🫶

WOODS & REZNOV P☆RN LINKS

(not all heroes wear capes, one of them is you anon! i've been WAITING to do this with some characters that aren't the tf141 or something, i am much more than happy to do so. thank you so much i'm so glad you like my work, hope this gets an 11/10 😉)

woods: roughly fucking you sideways, you just know there's a belly bulge! take a second to appreciate the size difference with woods here, the way you can feel him all the way in your cervix - filling you up whole 👌 just imagining dadsfriend!woods teasing your fat pussy like this...🤔 fucking you with your panties to the side upstairs at a bbq? pounding into you after you've been a very good girl all day we should all collectively agree, woods is a titty man 👍 reznov: reznov after a looong day of work, all tired and worn out so now he's just a lazy guy :( absolutely drowning in your pussy but also lost in your eyes getting this big guy to fill you up, breeding your perfect pussy just what you need after a bad week, your husbands long cock rutting in and out appreciation for his thick pink cock when?? imagining both of them fucking u roughly together excuse this is a bit short, couldn't find much that fit them ;(

[xappetites]

i'm not completely sure what this is i'm just real emotional about Frank Fucking Woods, same universe as this

This is a long time coming. Too long, where Frank is concerned. Thing is, they haven’t had time for it, with the constant driving back and forth to the VA, the hospital, the physical therapy, and the dragging bureaucracy of honorable discharge. Then David started getting nightmares —which is perfectly understandable for a kid his age who suddenly finds himself with no one in the world except Frank—, and Bell’s real good with nightmares.

So it’s been months since Frank’s had this: Bell’s perfect ass in his palms, her laughter in his mouth and the graceless bumping into shit on their way to the bedroom. The little shushed giggle as she tugs the armrest to straighten him down the hallway, freeing the foot paddle from the corner.

Trying to keep quiet is another new thing, since there’s a sleeping child a couple rooms away, but he’s not letting go now that he has his hands on her. In fact, Frank has half a mind to run her over and try carrying her himself just so he doesn’t have to stop touching her. But then she’s opening the door wide for him and this is why he suffers that sadistic fucker of a nurse at physical, so he can still maneuver his ass onto the bed and his own damn pants off when he wants to fuck his wife.

Bell laughs under her breath, kicking off jeans and underwear, moving to straddle him where he finally settles against the pillows.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Here.” Her answer is half whisper, half moan and goddamn, she’s already slick for him. She arches, presenting her tits so Frank can manhandle them free and nose at the warm, soft space between them. “For your frown.”

Frank’s cock reacts before he does, so do his hips. There’s a delightful ache in sliding against her, twitching, pretty much on instinct. Pulling at her waist and groaning into her mouth.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

“I have good reason to be.”

He’s always been a sucker for Bell’s smiles, from way back when he expected to babysit Adler’s shiny new automaton and instead got a toothy grin in the middle of a firefight —that for a long time made him wish he’d just been hit. But the one she gives him, perched in his lap and rocking against him until his cock catches and slides smoothly inside her, spears him straight through the heart.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” She says and she’s wearing this ‘home after a long day’ kinda smile, with eyes narrowed so Frank can’t tell she’s tearing up until the drop escapes down her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

And he’s right there with her, choked up to finally have a minute for just her, the same old Bell squeezing his heart between her pretty palms, no matter how everything has changed.

“You got me, honey. All of me.”

All that’s left of me, he doesn’t say, because it’s depressing when he’d really rather fucking not. What he does manage, comes out barely understandable, pressed against her mouth and it’s a little bit pathetic anyway, but Frank can’t care when she’s chuckling into a filthy kiss and tightening around him.

“Oh, you like that?”

Bell pulls back, laughter turning into a giggle as she wipes the tears. And this time the pressure of her muscles on his cock is purposeful.

“I do.”

“All that cock just for you, huh?”

She bears down at that comment, rides him so slow and deep that she has to shush the very loud groan it pulls out of his throat. 

“The cock and all the rest,” Bell doesn’t falter in the rhythm she starts, works him like her pride’s on the line, “your laugh and your eyes, and the way your beard burns. All mine.”

God, what a fucking sucker she makes out of him. Frank’s never been a man to speak his affections, it’s too much to put on the line, to have his heart out there like that. Especially now that he’s even more convinced that loving the likes of him is poison. So he sneaks a hand between their bodies, shifts their balance with firm circles over her clit and tries to squeeze the truth into a single word.

“Yours.”

Despite his better judgment and not exactly to her benefit, as far as he’s concerned, but it’s true. It’s enough. All it takes for Bell’s orgasm to hit full force. A thing of beauty, dimmed quiet but so intense, her thighs shake. Aching in the pit of Frank’s stomach for a long second because he can’t flip her under him anymore, give those pretty legs a break and pound her full while she melts into the mattress for him.

She laughs, though, breathless. And she kisses him with a sort of manic joy, face glowing and hair sticking to her forehead; picking back where she left off, rolling her hips ‘till he’s emptying himself inside her, panting like a dog and —for a single shining second— content to the bone.

Hers.

Suspended in a moment where it doesn't matter that they’re sort of sticky, staving off the chill only by virtue of clinging to each other. Then Bell climbs off for long enough to get a warm, wet towel that she uses to clean him and herself; before tucking them both in with easy banter. Talking up a storm in what Frank suspects is an effort to distract him until she’s curled sweet against his side.

In the morning, when it’s the sun bright through the window that wakes them, Frank finds it’s the first night David’s slept through without screaming his way out of a nightmare. He lets Bell wash his hair, in the brand new, spanking bench she got installed in the shower. And he figures he’ll find his way through this. Even if it’s embarrassing, even if it’s painful.

For all the shit he’s survived and all the things he can still do, he refuses to let this be what fucking kills him.

[rascal-xo]

i swear i’m not ignoring anyone’s requests i’m getting to all of them i promise 😭

[konigsblog]

༉‧₊˚. HUMILATION

frank woods x fem!reader

kinktober masterlist. (day 22)

[WARNINGS] teasing, mirror sex, fingering, orgasm denial/control, humilation (obviously)

proofread.

Frank can't control himself. Something about the control and authority of teasing you and having you weak, able to see your every facial expressions, your reaction is to the simplest of things he'd do to you while vulnerable and desperate.

Your eyes watered as he ran his fingertips over your clit. His busy beard scratching against your bare neck while he toyed with your nipples with his other hand. You could feel his fingers trace down between your slit, easing into your folds and filling your holes with two thick and calloused fingers.

You gasped, throwing your head back at the stimulation. Wet tears slowly ran down your cheeks as he'd been overstimulating you for ages, using all types of methods to get you wet and whiney. From toys to his degrading, his humilation that had you lowering your head and closing your eyes tightly in shame from being in such a state...

“Ain't'cha jus' so fuckin' desperate? Drippin' all over my hand, baby...” he teased, tutting and and rubbing your clit with his thumb when you looked away from the mirror. “Uh-uh, c'mere, don't make me punish ya' anymore. Ya' wanna cum, yeah? Then act good.”

You mewl out when his fingers rub at the sweet spot, causing your thighs to tremble just at the sensation. You gripped his wrist as he flicked your clit, sucking hickeys onto your neck and breathing heavily in your ear. Just the sounds of his laboured breathing had you pulsing and throbbing. “Oh–look at'chu, baby... God, you're makin' a mess, huh? Jus' too wet? Can't take anymore? That'd be a real shame if I were to keep you from cummin', wouldn't it?”

Lowering your head, you're smacked back to reality when he spanks your wet cunt for looking away. He sinks his thick finger back inside, his other hand gripping your jaw. The smell of light sweat, smoke and tobacco was noticeable in the air. Along with Frank's thick musk that followed, his cologne assulting your nostrils when you threw your head back from the pleasure. It all made your insides feel fuzzy and your vision go blurry and hazy from your desperate orgasm

Each time he ran his fingers across that one spot, he'd pull away. Just as fast as it came it was gone, controlling your poor and long awaited orgasm that seemed to be dragged out for an eternity. You moaned and felt yourself growing closer, his touch pulled away. Frank's fingers twisted your nipples, biting into your neck while you stimulated your clit – yet nothing would compare to his touch.

“Can't get off?” he chuckles out, biting your earlobe. ”Cum on my hand, pretty.“ Frank's fingers replace yours as he thrusts them back into you. The repetitive movement causing you to grind and gasp out through loud moans. Unable to hold back any longer, you cum down his fingers as he fucks them deep inside. Your cum squirting up his forearm.

You pant, breathless as you gaze into his eyes through the mirror, seeing him grinning ear to ear at the mess you'd made. “Fu... Frank–” he cuts you off by pushing his digits into your mouth, three wet and cum covered fingers pressed into your mouth. “Taste good, huh?”

[montcumbry-gaytor]

Can you do a Dom/Frank woods x Sub/male reader, where both of them are having their first time and woods being to rough with his lover.( Or you can do whatever place they can have fuck at thats my opinion) also love your amazing work and its talented. Woods needs all the love.

Come out and play

frank woods x male reader smut

FEM ALLIGNED DNI || MLM/NBLM TARGET READERS

A/N : Had me kicking my feet tysm for the compliment 🫶🫶 and yes I 100% agree Frank deserves a whole lot of love and I geniunely think he's so silly 🫶🫶

CW : Slightly OOC Frank, First Time Sex, Mentions of Hallucinations and Night terrors.

You and Frank had been together for.. a while, now.

He had been a stable of your mental health when you were struggling, the night terrors, the hallucinations, odd memories of things you thought never happened.

You struggled with it far too often, and when you did, Frank was there to help you through it, albeit not in the most professional way.

Though you both cared for eachother you both never..

Had sex.

You assumed you never had time for it, considering your line of work, it was kind of understandable, but the longer you and Frank dated the more the want festered in you.

"Bell, You have that report ready?"

Adler asked, looming over you, He always radiated such a powerful energy, almost wary of you, but it always seemed to soften around you, it felt like.. Pity.

Though you never minded it much.

"Bell?"

"Oh- Sorry- I'm.. not having a good thought process right now, can't get focused."

You admitted, holding your face in your hands, huffing out a breath of frustration.

"That's okay, Bell, Just have it in my office before Friday, alright?"

"Got it.. sorry."

Adler hummed, patting your shoulder before walking off, seemingly to chat with Park, who sat at her desk, feet propped up against it.

Startled out of your thoughts, You whipped around, Your shock melting away as frank stood behind you, hands planted on your shoulders.

"You good?"

He asked gruffly, Thick brows upturned with concern, icey blue eyes piercing into yours, he could see your frustration, even though your face was hidden through the Balaclava you wore.

"Yeah- Yeah.. I'm okay, Just lost in thought, Thanks Frankie."

You said, your eyes creased as you smiled, watching his ears tint a shade of red that you would only see on him.

"Do you want to head to the hotel for the night? You've been here for a while."

"Yeah, We can go, I have something to talk to you about anyways."

You sighed, Grabbing your bag from beside your chair, stuffing your unfinished report into it, amongst other things that sat at your desk.

"Okay."

Frank said, sounding lightly concerned, though it could only be something you would pick up in his gravely voice.

Time passed, you and Frank had slipped out shortly after saying bye to Adler, Not that it was necessarily required, but Adler himself told you he felt it was necessary to know you were gone, You never understood why.

The drive to the hotel was quiet, Accompanied by the rain pattering on Frank's windshield.

Lights on the street lined your path, until the small hotel crammed between a convenience store and a Bar made it's way into your view.

"Bell? —Bell?"

"Oh- Huh?"

You hummed, shaking yourself from your thoughts once more.

"We're here."

He said, Prompting you to hop out of the vehicle, shutting the door and letting Frank lock it behind you, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Thanks for the ride, Frankie."

You hummed, bumping your hip into his teasingly.

You made your way inside, Being quiet as you navigated the halls, Making sure not to wake any sleeping residents of the hotel, Due to your line of work, It was easy,

Using the keycard to unlock your hotel room, Frank held the door open, letting you enter before slipping in himself, locking the door behind him.

"So, you had something to say?"

"I want to have sex with you, Frank."

Silence carried your words, though you kept your stare, the air in the room felt thick as his adams apple bobbed, a sigh slipping from his lips.

"I can understand if you wouldn't want to, but.. I love you, and i want to do more than just.. kiss you, It sounds silly.."

"—Bell, Listen, I want to too I just.."

He trailed off, Clearing his throat.

"I've never had sex with a man, before."

"Oh.."

It was quiet again, Frank looked away sheepishly, Running a large hand over his neck.

"Well, I haven't either, So it could be a first for the both of us."

You said, Stepping closer to his anxious frame.

"I mean, Yeah.. but I don't want to hurt you, Bell, I don't want to get carried away and make you hate it."

"—Then.. let me take lead."

You stood in front of him, taking his hands in yours and placing them firmly on your hips, running your hands up to curl around his neck, playing with his hairline.

"I can take my own pace, and you wouldn't have to worry.."

You hummed, your gaze never leaving his.

"A-Alright.."

He said, Defeated by your persuasion, pressing his forehead into yours.

"Can I kiss you?"

"-You know you don't have to ask."

"I know."

You hummed, Pulling your balaclava off your head and dropping it to the ground, Your lips connecting with his, Your tongue slipping into his mouth to search for his.

Small groans tangled in with your gasps of air, rolling your hips in hope of any friction, much to your delight, Franks leg slipped between yours, Providing relief.

"Fuck.. Frankie.."

You whined, Running a hand through his dark black hair, tugging lightly in your wake, The mess of each others limbs stumbling backward onto the bed.

You pulled Frank's jacket off quickly, both of you kicking off your shoes into the floor, never taking your hands off one another.

Swiftly, you flipped each others positions, hands caging on either side of Frank's shoulders, Heavy breaths escaping your kiss bruised lips.

You struggled to pull off your coat, fumbling with it in a hurry, you shucked it off, kicking the cargo pants you wore with them.

Frank bit his lip as he watched you strip your boxers off and toss them away from you, crawling between his legs.

"You don't fucking understand how much I've wanted to do this.."

You sighed, Unbuckling his belt before tugging his pants down, tossing them into the floor with the rest of the inevitable pile.

His erection pressed through his briefs, twitching in anticipation, Frank sighing your name under shaky breaths.

"Patience, Frank, You of all people should know that."

You hummed, kissing the inside of his thigh teasingly, watching him shudder, slipping your fingers beneath his briefs and pulling them off, his cock springing out, tip grazing over his stomach.

"Fuck.. you're big."

You said, running the pad of your index finger over his length, tracing the veins before pressing your lips to his tip, hearing him groan at the sensation.

Warily, you wrapped your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue ran across the bottom, slowly taking him in until his tip reached the back of your throat.

You could hear him struggle to keep his moans in, You could feel and see his muscles tense and constrict as you began to bob your head, working what you couldn't fit in your mouth with your hand.

"Fuck... You're doing amazing- ah—shit.."

He cursed under his breath, running a calloused hands through your hair as he struggled to keep his composure, Pressing the crown of his head into the pillows.

Pulling your mouth off, you slipped your fingers from your free hand into your mouth, jerking frank off as you wet them, pulling them out after you were satisfied, your mouth returning to suck Frank.

You slid your hand behind your back, slipping your fingers to prod into your hole, slipping in with ease thanks to your saliva, and.. other things you would never admit.

You let out groans that vibrated in your throat as you curled your fingers into yourself, forcing yourself to breath through your nose to keep you from choking as frank rutted into you.

Satisfied with your work, you pulled off, Frank's helpless groan made you smirk, You slid your slick fingers out of yourself.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

You asked, holding Frank's hands in yours once more, bringing your hips over Franks as you looked at him, his stare showing just how much he cared.

Cared about you.

"Absolutely."

He hummed, placing a hand on your hip, thumb stroking at your scarred skin, Slowly, you guided yourself onto his cock, your breath hitching as he reached places you didn't know existed.

"Ooh.. fuck.."

You grunted, rolling your hips against Frank's, your mouth hung open as you struggled to catch your breath.

"God- shit.."

Frank groaned, his grip on your hip tightening, with hesitance, you slowly began to rock your hips at a pace, rolling them as you slid down, making you feel fuller than the last time.

You both struggled to keep your voices down, Frank's free hand sliding up your chest, pulling your shirt over your pecs to cup and play with them, though struggling to keep the shirt up, you took the hint and bit the hem of your shirt, keeping it up as he fucked into you.

"God- Baby you feel so fucking good— ah.."

He groaned, his nails digging into your skin, sure to leave bruises in his wake, His cock twitching inside of you, you could tell he was close, because you were too.

"Fuck- Frank.. I'm gonna cum- please~ "

You whined, chest heaving as you teetered closer to your release, letting airy moans whisp past your teeth as you bit into your shirt, your body halting as you came to your end, Shockwaves running to each of your limbs and your body heat finally hit you.

It didn't take long for Frank to meet his release aswell, pulling out of you and cumming over his stomach, the both of you panting as you came off your highs.

"Holy shit... That felt amazing.."

Frank sighed, rubbing circles into your bruised hips, a grin still on his lips as you leaned in to kiss him once more.

"We gotta do that again sometime."

"Hell yeah."

A/N : this is slightly OOC but I really couldn't find any other way to write it, I hope this was acceptable and I hope y'all enjoyed!!

[sonyanightmare]

This is a multi-fandom story I been working on and off on for a long ass time lmao!

But if your interested in me writing more of it, lmk pls, the encouragement helps a lotttt

(Things that are highlighted are mostly for myself to help keep in mind of the timeline and when/where certain events happen but yous can go by them too if yall want)

-Btw none of these images belong to me, credits go to original creators/artists-

Immortality vs Love: Which do You Choose

Keep in mind about the timeline era

Team Fortress 2 takes place in 1968, and the storyline extends up to 1972.

Cold War: March 12, 1947 – December 26, 1991

Tf2 started and ended in the middle of the Cold War according to the actual historical event and the game itself: TF2 official comics help know what happens

Random storyOc x Sniper           +18 content: includes possible sexual themes, detailed gore, etc., multi-alternate universe crossovers (cringe-worthy)

!Read at your own risk!

(most likely going to be an unfinished story anyway, haha)

More research to one of few of my main OC story timelines where she takes place during the Vietnam War/Cold War, so that some characters will come from the Call of Duty franchise, specifically the Cold War.

• TF2: 1968-1972

• Historical Vietnam War & Cold War: Vietnam; 1955-1972 CW; 1947-1991

• Call of Duty Cold War/Vietnam War: 1968(during both wars)-1980s (atomic Bomb tensions) might be mentioned

Love Over Immortality

“Ya bloody wanka!” Sniper had woken up from his nap to the feeling of his hat being taken off his face, where he had placed it to shield any possible shine from the afternoon sun.

The Aussie should have known better, for the only woman on their team would always do something like this to the Marksman. She and the Sniper were close, though their bond was so tight the rest of the Mercenaries were getting irritated that neither of the two made a move. It was obvious that they liked each other but damn the annoyance that the team even tried to help them get together, from leaving the two alone at the base while the rest went into town to mixing up their sitting spots at the dinner table so that they were sitting next to each other. But enough about the impossible couple to happen.

The woman that caught the Assassin’s heart was Sonya Nightmare, and it’s now the second year she has been with the R.E.D team. The team is close to her, although the team doesn’t know her painful past and secrets. They were so close to her, yet they knew little to nothing about her. That doesn’t stop her from enjoying as much time with them as their mortal lives will allow.

Sniper had gotten up from the chair he was napping on as he saw Sonya look at him with that adoring smile as she placed her free hand on the wall side where a door could be. With the other hand that held his hat, she teasingly shook it behind her back as she turned the corner and ran, hearing the familiar sound of boots clicking the wooden floor as they ran towards her, not even close to catching up with her. She giggled the whole way, turning corners sharply as she let Sniper catch up to her now and then, looking back to see a tripping friend trying to do those sharp turns. This continued until she arrived at the destination of her choice; it was Snipers’ tower. Sonya thinks she has lost Sniper, so she climbs the ladder to try and hide her cornered self. But the sound of those boots was getting louder and louder. She backed up as much as possible, hitting her back on the small table in the shadowy corner.

The window nearby may be boarded, but it gave off enough lighting in the room to see a possible shadow below if the sun was high enough. The Sniping from the window was perfect from enemy fire. But the two were in danger because they ran outside the base and into the battlefield, on their side at least; who knows if neither their Spy nor the B.L.U enemy Spy was near.

Sniper finally made it up the ladder, plastering a playful but sinister grin on his handsome face. Sonya played around with her bottom lip as she giggled with a speck of pink that was dusted on her face. His forehead was littered with scraps of sweat, and his breath was raspy; he must have been exhausted chasing her throughout R.E.D’s side of the battlefield.

“You’re a real pain in me arse, love.” Sniper led out a breathy response as he walked long strides toward Sonya. Biting her bottom lip with a smirk, she backs up as much as she can, hat still in both hands behind her back.

“Am I too much for you to handle, Mundy sir?” 

“Ya know bloody well you are, Shelia.” Sniper was almost chest-to-chest with Sonya, her question lingering in their small space. Standing straight, Sonya was only an inch or two shorter than him, but he didn’t seem to mind as he tried to distract her by leaning dangerously close to her face. She’s seen this trick before and got out of the mini trap she was in, and the marksman was playing a game of ‘try and catch me as the long-haired woman and himself chased each other around the sniper towers’ space. Finally, Sniper caught her and pinned her to the boarded window, not realizing their position.

Mundy had pinned Sonya’s wrists with the left on top of her left and his right on top of her right, his chest touching her slightly arched back, and his private area sat firmly on her curvy bottom. Sonya’s hitched voice made him realize their awkward position, but he didn’t say a word to her. They looked at each other for a moment, Sonya breaking contact first as she quickly looked down, then back to him, then to his slightly chapped, parted lips. Without warning, Sonya arched her back, pressed her firm ass more onto his pelvis, and started to grind slowly and roughly. Letting out a deep breathy grunt, Sniper began to do the same and pressed up against her body. Both let out occasional moans as the man rested his head on her shoulder; neither looked at the other as they started getting rougher in their grinding. Mundy let go of one of her wrists and placed his now free hand firmly on her hips, Sonya reaching around and holding his neck as she leaned back and went directly onto his ear, letting him hear her delicate moans more clearly.

Mundy then let go of her other wrist and onto the other side of her hips, forcing her to grind more. Mundy started to lightly kiss and lick at her neck and earlobe, causing her to let out more shaky breaths and moans and hold onto one of his hands that grabbed her hips, dropping the hat. He made Sonya turn relatively fast, almost impatient. He lifted her, her back against the boarded windows, and they continued to grind on each other, a prominent bulge causing friction between the two of them, creating a symphony of moans. Their faces were close, but neither pulled the other closer, letting their hot breaths run all over their flushed faces. Sonya grabbed Mundy’s vest and pulled it off him as he carried her to the small table not far from them. Sonya was laid out for him as they grew closer to one another’s faces; her struggle with his belt left him in a breathy laugh, and he started to take it off. The belt was off, and the pants were loose enough on him that they were beginning to slide the faster they ground. Sonya grabbed the sides of his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her, and they could not stop staring into each other’s eyes. As Sonya was about to pull him in for a kiss, they were interrupted by none other than the Engineer himself.

“Sniper Sonya, y'all up there?” Mundy almost ignored him and was about to kiss her, but she stopped him by placing a singular finger on his lips. He knew Sonya was too kind-hearted towards the Texan to ignore.

“Y-yeah, we are Dell. We’ll be down in a moment.”

“Alrigh’ then darlin’. All I wanted was to know ‘cause dinner’s ready.” The sound of his boots distancing from the two started to fade.

“Bloody hell Sonya, that was too close. I’m sorry, love.” Mundy finally spoke as he grabbed his belt, then the vest and hat.

“Oh, do not worry yourself, Mundy. It will pass by momentarily, so do not be so paranoid.” Mundy was confused as he watched her fix her silky, smooth black hair and set her kimono. She had already finished going down the ladder as she waited for Mundy. Once he was down, they started walking towards the home base as they walked and chatted the whole way to Dell’s delicious dinner.

Sonya had always been such a mystery to Mundy, the whole R.E.D and B.L.U teams. Coming to the hidden base in the mountains without a record of any sort, she’s a ghost to them. All the team knows they are the slight hints she says in her stories or when she was a part of some critical and dangerous military group (must be Special Forces, they all thought). Spy could not find even her military records, nothing under a Codename Altair or her actual name, anything! All the Frenchman found were photos willingly taken with a specified group, the time during Vietnam, but that war is still ongoing. Even if they have a lead from Spy, how would they know where to look for one of these two men? One looked rough and beaten but still could kill, and the other, despite all the cuts and dirt, had slick black hair with the eyes of a sharpshooter. Only one person knows, and she sits right next to their Marksman at the dinner table.

Dated flashback; 2 years, seven months ago

Day 1 at R.E.D

The car ride to base was quiet, even a little too soft for Ms. Pauling's taste. Now and then, Ms. Pauling would look from her driver’s seat to the woman in the passenger's seat, wondering if she should say anything. Being a woman experimenting with relationships, she wasn’t sure if what she was feeling towards the woman in the kimono was a little crush or something else. Ms. Pauling wasn’t sure what her increasing heartbeat was from, to begin with, not from the tense atmosphere or from the attractive woman that sat next to her.

“So, Ms. Pauling.” Sonya started, breaking the silence.

“Oh, uh, yes, dear?”

“What is the team like?” Sonya turned her head from the window to look at the woman in purple.

“Well, from what you told me, you’re used to being the only woman on a team, right? So this is a mercenary group of men.” 

“Hmm, so nothing new I have to worry about then,” Sonya said, smiling kindly toward Ms. Pauling.

When the woman in the driver’s seat looked at Sonya, she couldn’t help but blush at how kind she was, especially when she smiled so nicely.

The drive was quiet as it was long, and even the small conversations were still awkward, but it helped the two become closer, hopefully in a future friendship.

“So, Ms. Pauling.” Sonya started as she looked over at the woman in purple.

“A-ah er, yes, what it is?” Ms. Pauling responded, looking at her with a smile and then back on the road, awaiting her question.

“What are these men like, might I ask?” Sonya questioned, looking outside through the driver’s seat window to avoid the awkward silence lingering in the vehicle.

“Well, most are foreign men. I should warn you if the accents are too much-” Ms. Pauling started ”-One comes from Russia, the deep snowy mountains; one’s a German medical scientist; one comes from Boston, the marksmen come from Australia, and the last is a french man who’s stealth is as skilled as his flirts for women -womanizer- that you should try and avoid, in my opinion.”

“Ah. A German Scientist and a French Spy?” Sonya sounded irritated and almost displeased when she looked at the woman in the passenger seat.

“Well, the German is nice, but he is sorta out of it- a psycho when on the battlefield, and the French man, he’s known for his actual skilled fighting compared to the others, and he can make you fall for such careless charms so please be careful around that one.” Ms. Pauling answered, sounding worried near the end.

Sonya smirked at the thought, “Oh, Ms. Pauling, please, I don’t fall for careless charms and those trying to earn my hand. Besides, you know very little about me; you have no idea what I’m capable of...”

_____

When the two arrived at the base, Ms. Pauling pulled their little truck into a small but perfect spot in the shade of the trees around them; Soya was greeted with the fog-like aura of nature. The sun settled low enough that the bottom barely grazed the distant mountains. The slight squeak of the car as the truck door reared opened and finally stepped out for a well-deserved stretch of relief. This base location was very different from the desert Valley one Sonya was for sure going to until he met with Ms. Pauling. 'Hardwood' was this locations name. It was a nice area, and Sonya was most for sure going to enjoy this future battlefield experience.

"Hopefully the team is waiting behind the volt doors for us; as I made it clear to them, by calling twice yesterday, they should be eager to introduce themselves to you." Ms. Pauling sounded a bit agitated at the 'calling twice' part.

'Must be something that happens often,' Sonya thought holding back a chuckle as she followed behind the woman in purple.

___

"Agh! How long we gotta wait for Pauling to get 'ere, huh?" Scout was walking around, waiting impatiently for the two to show up.

Spy then sighed in annoyance and shook his head, leaning against the wall a freshly lit cigarette rested between his lips. Medic was seated on the couch trying to ignore the Boston man as well. Heavy was with Pyro, Demo, and Engineer in the kitchen helping set up a small variety of the food presentable for their new addition to the team. And the only other member of the team was most likely hiding away in his camper or room within the base that he basically never uses coincidentally right next door to the room their new Mercenary will be sleeping in. We'll not for a long while for the poor quarters is still under deep cleaning of useless stored items and decor, trying to find somewhere to put these items at.

"Zhe more jou complain, nerviges kind, Zhe more agitating jou get Scout." Medic was finally able to speak up after trying to make sure what he was going to say to their newbie about sleeping arrangements. He had the small Hospital beds in the Med Bay, he just hopes that will do for now.

"Well, what 're ya gonna do about it, huh, doc?" Scout taunted, spreading his arms out in a 'come at me stance' towards the German.

"Zhat's it!" Medic grabbed his bonesaw not far from where he stood and started at the Boston.

Scout was running and tripping around the room, dodging a few of Medic's swings and managed to trip just out side the exit area and startled the two women, Scout almost hitting at the bottom of Sonya's Kimono.

Sonya instinctively moved in front of Ms. Pauling blocking the commotion but nothing of danger happened other than the Boston man grunting on the floor from the impact.

Oks das it lol 🤷🏽‍♀️🙃😂🖤

[maymaylyn]

Currently working on a steamy Frank woods x reader. Three things; Hudson being an ass, Woods being Woods, and hot make out.

That’s all you need to know.

[jolalibrary]

be good, be quiet

joel miller x f!reader | joel masterlist

GIF credit to the amazing @perotovar who i adore, and i'm grateful adores me.

summary: bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. sneaking around (so to speak). p in v. fingering. joel angst. you riding joel. jo's spelling. praise kink. joel trying to keep you quiet (by sticking his fingers in your mouth). feelings, but joel-feelings.

AN: thanks as always to @thetriumphantpanda for leaving me comments in the document that made me feel less scared about posting. and also to @swiftispunk for being a cheerleader when i threw a snippet at her like a toddler with a drawing.

All unannounced, it rumbles in. Creeping in, bringing clouds that snuff light and immense claps of thunder. It’s the kind of storm that has lightning that even the shadows can’t hide from. Makes the house creak, groan—it pleading, weeping in its persistence to stand up straight and not cower.

It’s also the only reason the two of you are allowed to stay.

Joel hears the whispers, tuned in until they grow into near shouts in a room next to the one you and him are standing in. If you’re listening, you make no effort to show it—head turned, staring out as the rain thrashes down, eyes following certain droplets as they run down the pane.

Honestly, he doesn’t even want to fucking stay.

Had folded his arms to indicate as such when it was suggested. But, as he stares at you, he knows he doesn’t want you in it—recalling not all that long ago when you had shivered for days. You’d barely been able to speak full sentences as you remained curled in a ball he couldn’t unfurl, all cold to the touch, clinging to him as your teeth rattled in your skull.

It’s the only reason he’s grateful Frank forces Bill’s hand. His tongue piercing, delivering a fine—all razor-like, cutting, his voice booming that the two of you were to sleep in separate rooms.

He could have argued, could have glared, tilted his head—he didn’t. Not as the house shook with another crack of thunder, an idea sprouting, digging itself deep and blooming out across the wasteland living inside of him.

It’s why he plays along. Taking the fresh clothes, the offering of a shower, bidding you a goodnight loud enough for them to hear downstairs, a kiss to your cheek to sign it—burying a smirk under it all.

The whim pulsating, throbbing under his skin—not doused by the cooling temperature of the shower or his hand gripping the base of his half-hard cock. Memories, tinged with blackened edges brimming as he steps from the steam, thinking, ticking—

Waiting.

Waiting for the house to go mute in between the cries of the weather.

Waiting to strike, to prowl—a champion at it, awarded best in class.

Then, he tires from it.

Throwing the covers back, the soles of his feet meet the wood on the thunder. The ticking clock in the corner syncs with his racing heart, desperate to be quiet, maintain mouse-like footsteps, careful—as silent as he is when he moves through buildings that screech and click.

The door you’re behind is at the end of the hallway—shut, closed. A metaphorical do not disturb struck across it from the glare the two of you had been given before Bill had shrunk off to bed.

He didn’t care, not as the drops of water dripped from his hair down his neck, sliding under the fabric that didn’t belong to him. Fingers reaching out for the door handle, all set to twist, when it opens, metal pulled away from him—draping him and the dull flowered carpet in warm orange.

“Jo—“

He’s quick, hand smothering your exclamation, muffling your words. Covering them with his palm, enjoying how soft your skin feels even under it, as he raises his other hand, finger to his mouth—escorted by a glare, a silent order—before dropping it to your hips, grabbing, digging into you as he begins to walk you backwards. You move easily with him, pressing yourself flush to him, all trusting, reading him like a damn book.

“Were y’coming to find me?”

It leaves his tongue in a rasp.

And the look you give him makes his cock even harder than it already had been. Reminding him he’s too worn, too old to be doing shit like this—but fuck does he want to. Lay there, thinking of only you. Mind lost out at sea, bobbing along gentle waves of how you feel wrapped around him, that whimper you make when he flattens his palm to your spine, slides in, fills you, hips flush with yours.

You’re good, because you nod, no words—not making another noise. Your hand slips past him, shutting the door as your chest remains flush with his—the door happy, gleeful to return to its frame. He slides his hand from your mouth, moving to wrap it around the back of your neck, your chin tilted up without so much as a request.

Then, you smile, soft, almost innocent. But he knows you’re no angel—you’re something carved from molten and destruction, but fuck are you pretty. The kind that leaves an outline on the back of his eyelids. The kind that he suspects would turn heads, if you didn’t look like you wished to disembowel them for even looking. Plus, you’re always with him, eyes on him, enamoured, enchanted—

You shouldn't.

Not when he’s poison, slowly feeding you with drops—rotting your insides and blackening your soul. Watching you slowly being made in the shape of his past, carved, narrative rewritten and a future fading, before you get to live it, because of his company. A price scratched against your name.

But, you chose him—leave a mark, Miller. And he did, does. He paints himself on your spine, ropes of white whenever he can; he makes the juncture between your thighs slick with the mess he makes of you. More you whine, and that’s when it changed. When it became less about mindless distraction and more about possession, care, something else fucking entirely—

He pulls your ear to his mouth, your body relaxing, going limp—catching the scent of freshly washed skin. “Ima need you to be a good girl and be quiet. Can y’do that?”

Joel catches the smirk before you blink it away. Your teeth digging into your lip, nodding, catching the reflection of him as lightning floods the room—a sight that undoes him, affects him even though he’ll never show it. Because how much you want him scares him, makes him feel something other than numb, muted grief and disgrace.

The two of you don’t kiss, but he ghosts his lips over yours all the same. Something about the room makes it more intimate, romantic, normal.

“Not like you to break the rules.”

You snort, fingers knotting in his still-damp hair. “Well, I’m sure it’s equally not gentleman-like to sneak into a lady’s room.”

He grunts, and buries it in the back of his throat. Your tongue forces his hand, making him tug on the borrowed PJ bottoms you’re wearing. Palm flattening under the fabric covering your chest, resting it on your stomach, pausing, briefly feeling your heart beating, proof it isn't a fantasy, a dream, before sliding it down.

That’s when he focuses, basks in the feeling of nothing but the softness of your skin and the stories etched into it from surviving, from living. His fingers inching under the elastic and string, your eyes aflame, an inferno, and he wants you to burn him. Singe yourself into him, leave a mark, make it hurt.

“Stopped being a gentleman a while ago, honey.”

You’re wet. A truth two of his fingers feel, sliding them into your heat, suddenly enveloped by nothing but warmth and the sweet rose scent of the soap you washed your skin in. And it’s a comfort, eyes transfixed, all in awe as he watches you try to hold back a gasp—enjoying the way your nails dig into his neck, lashes fluttering and how you part your lips in a silent moan. He can make out what you’re saying is Joel. Each letter inscribed, even in a muted whisper. J-O-E-L.

He already decides he misses the way you sound. A new craving, a new need to make you sing—make your body break out into music, remind him how sweet something can sound when the world is nothing but grievous behaviour and murder.

It’s why he likes when your back is pressed to his chest, knees sore as he pistons in and out of you on the shitty mattress in the shitty room back in the QZ.

Because you can be loud, unfiltered.

There is no need to muffle back how good it feels what he’s doing to you, you can be unhinged, hiss his name, moan through gritted teeth if you’re trying to punish him. He hears them all the same, collects them. Stores them, and uses them to keep the last shard of him intact from all the loss and survival—the part of him he occasionally shows you. Usually in the dark, more morning than night, your chest flush to his back, not asleep, but not fully awake.

But, he can’t collect them here, can’t risk it here—slowing his movements down, hearing you fight it, struggling, being strangled by the moan you want to let breathe.

“C’mon baby, you know how to be quiet. Y’so good when we’re surrounded by clickers. This is no different.”

Narrowing your eyes, you whimper as the base of his palm catches your bundle of nerves. “You’re not—fuck, Joel—usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.”

The corners of his lips twitch. It slides up into one of his cheeks, making a home there—all temporary, only something you seem to pull from him. “Guess I’ll have to help y’out then, won’t I?”

Your eyes narrow briefly before he does. Snaking two fingers—index and middle—past your lips, pressing down onto your tongue, continuing the movements of his other hand, the one pumping his fingers inside of you, coating himself in you.

He learns, quickly, that the pressure applied to your tongue does little to muffle your moan, but the clap of thunder smothers the rest. The way it bleeds out, shakes everything, allowing you a chance to whimper, whine and moan. Eyes digging into his, begging, pleading—

And, he could watch you for hours like this. At his mercy, hanging on the edge—shimmered with a light sheen of sweat and desperation swirling in your eyes. It’s the only time you’re weak, that you show him you can be vulnerable, soft, your edges smoothed down.

It’s why it takes him by surprise when he feels your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking on them, staring into his fucking soul like you could repair all it had been through. Fuck he’d let you try when you look at him like that.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, sliding his palm from your face, resting it on the wall by your head.

“You’ve fucked me on a forest floor, Joel. Don’t act so surprised.”

He lets you have that one—rewarding you for it. Unable to tear his gaze away when you’re overcome with it, stilling, tensing, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you constrict, breathing laboured, rapid breaths before you slant his name across his lips. Stain it. Bury the gratitude and relief as you slide your tongue past his teeth, worming into another part of him, a place he realises he’s wanted you to own. Wants to swallow it, have you rooted under his skin—

“Get on the bed.”

“No,” you rasp, grasping his wrist from between your thighs, bringing his fingers to your lips, tongue swirling before you release them with a pop. “Floor. Bed creaks.”

Another flash, another rumble—it allowing him to take in the expression spreading over your face. The calm, sleepy edge to your smile, all thanks to him. It sears into his skull, makes a home, and buries into a crevice he’ll never be able to scrape you from.

Least of all when you turn, shedding your clothes without aid—stripping himself as you busy ripping sheets to the floor, pillows scattering, a teenager's sleepover dream strewn across the carpeted floor. One he has you lay down on, sliding his mouth over the parts of you he hasn’t yet touched—lapped and enjoyed. Leaving a trail, a path of desire against your skin, your nails finding a home in his scalp, awarding him with gasps, small medals compared to the trophy of before.

“Wanna go on top,” you mewl, hand on his, pausing his hips from connecting with yours. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

“Think you can handle it.”

It’s perfectly timed, almost comically, the way lightning sparks through the room—your glare more than sharp, digging into him, spacing out his insides until he’s nothing but bone.

He knows you can, but he likes taunting you. Enjoys the way your eyes lick flames across his skin, that your tone can be curt with him, gaze sharpened, pointing.

Joel likes being under you. Has a fondness for the weight of you on him and how your thighs feel on either side of him. Mostly, he likes what it says—what it gives you. An assurance you never ask for and he can never provide, because he can’t give you much, a lot, anything. He’s not good, kind or soft—he won’t trace three words against your shoulder and fan his hand out over your back as he tells you you’re a tempest on two legs, a thing which takes his breath, makes him crave, makes him want, makes him wish.

“You can do it—can take it, take me.”

“I know,” you bite back, lining the head of him at your slit.

It almost makes him snigger. That fury in you, that little determined flame that won’t ever be doused, becoming an inferno in your indignation. So, he whispers your name, fingers crawling up your neck, watching the space your bodies join as you sink down on him.

And he’s in awe as your pussy swallows him, inch by inch, the lightest hiss from under your breath caressing the air as your hips go flush with his.

“Feel good don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes closed, head rolled back fingers digging, half-curling into his stomach. “You always feel good, Joel.”

Your velvet wrapped around him, encasing him in warmth, all slick and needy. It tugs at him, and makes him for a moment feel like a man and not a carved-out monster who keeps fighting to live another day, for some reason or another. He supposes you wouldn’t let him have it any other way, would fight him and anyone else tooth and nail on it. You’re fierce like that, a difficult fucking thing he’s come across and now wishes to never lose.

“So big,” you whine in a whisper.

Lit up by the storm. It casts flickering shadows over your breasts over the muscles that contort as you roll your hips—if it lingered longer, he’d have been able to witness how wild your eyes were, how slick it is where the two of you are conjoined. Evidenced ruin, a sight he’d pull up in his mind when he’s alone, and you’re busy, and he pretends his fist is close to how you feel.

“Y’doin’ so well for me.”

Another flash grants him the chance to study your parted lips, the way your lashes hang over your cheek. It’s a sight, a fucking delight. An extra breath of oxygen and an anchor to keep him here all at once. A thing which didn’t cling, but had sunk its nails into him all the same—I’m not letting go, and you’re not going to ask me to.

You never say those words, but they hang—attached to string and bunting, a banner of sorts. One that isn’t wrong. A realisation that feels larger here than at the QZ. Surrounded by ornate white furniture and floral patterns, a room which has remained untouched, unspoiled—almost making him feel like a person he used to know. The one who he occasionally spots in the mirror, hanging back in his reflection.

It fucks with his mind. Makes him relaxed, and unwinds the stress from his bones as he plants his feet on the ground and rocks with you. Enjoys your moans, soft, bitten back but likely screamed in your head.

A thought beating inside him, all closed fists hammering on ribs: because he never thought he’d get attached to someone. Never mind someone who appears so otherworldly, likely created to threaten, but he finds only fascinating. A soul who unlocks things within him, finds a way through cobwebs and vines.

Someone who makes him wonder how passion and despair, adoration and darkness can all exist inside of him. Especially without losing the parts which he needs to live, to protect, to save—while keeping the parts that have you coming back to him.

He’s sure you see it, though. You understand him, having peeled back the layers in time and seen the decay which lives within his chest. You’ve even traced your fingers over his scars, ear close to them, as if they’ll spill all their secrets. Even without answers, you remain by his side.

It’s what makes this time different. So much so, he lifts your hand from his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. All tender, soft. Your eyes twinkle, shimmering with something—lit up again—before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding you, helping you ride him, until he has a better idea, a better thought—

His palms almost lift you off him, just the tip remaining as you hover. Digging his thumb and fingers into your skin, leaving indents he can trace when he catches his breath, and he latches his mouth in the space under your breast. Kissing, drawing a circle with his tongue, before he sucks, nips. Intentionally leaving a flaw, signing his name in a signature only he’ll be able to admire—a piece of evidence that this is real, you’re real. Knowing it will be there in the trek back to the life the two of you live; present when you strip off and change, a blight on otherwise perfection, put there by him—another ruin in your life.

Because you could do better than him. A fact he knows, has put to bed but still occasionally turns over.

I chose you because you don’t expect perfection, you’re happy with just good.

Except, you’re more than good.

Your fingers brush over his cheek, soft, gentle. Far too much of both in his opinion. Then he lowers you back down, pussy taking every inch, the lightest hiss fluttering over him as he stares up at you. Transfixed, lost. Almost able to live a fantasy, allow himself to fall into a dreamlike state.

Because this, right in this room, could have been plucked from the world before. It normal, could pretend the two of you were in a room in some inn somewhere or a bedroom the two of you would have built together—hand-chosen ornate furniture and pleasant knick-knacks that adorn surfaces, wooden frames with pictures he could imagine you’d fill if this was real, and not a break in the reality.

“This what you wanted when you were coming t'look f’me?”

He sounds drunk, intoxicated, maybe he is. Having drank from you for so long, he’s more you than he is rotten. He assists you as he snaps his hips to yours, burying the thought in his movements. But, he’s breathing you in—tasting the air tinged with the two of you as you both pant, hunger rearing, desperate, wanting to collide and spark out across nerves, muscles and fucking bone.

Yes, you chant. Yes, yes, yes.

M’close, Joel. So close.

It falls in breathless swirls, a juxtaposition to how tight you are around him, knotting perfectly at the base of him. Sucking him in, keeping him rooted, the head of him finding that spot that makes your body loose and boneless.

“Doin’ so good for me, my good girl.”

So he fucks you harder, uncaring if the floorboards creak, if they protest and shout, he has to. A thing inside of him commanding it. This is all he can give, so give, give, give—

He feels your nails dig, half-moons slicing in—a new scar, one he’ll be thankful to trace. Next is your thighs and muscles tautening. Then, that flutter, the one he seeks, desperate to own, his prize, no one else's.

Mine, mine, fucking mine.

And, distantly, he’s aware he’s the one who pulls you down, but he’ll tell himself later it was you. Trick himself that you required it, even if it was he who needed it. His mouth slanting over yours, clinging to your jaw and cheek, tongue swirling over the moan that is bestowed to him, that hits and fucking pounds into him. Unable to hold on, barely a handful of thrusts before he’s grunting into your mouth, spilling into you, pouring unspoken words to the place between your thighs as you grasp at the tufts of hair on either side of his face.

Something about it makes you taste sweeter. A man like him should never get to experience it now, not this version of him, the act more forbidden, prohibited. It’s what makes him want to spread you out on the floor, lick the expanse between your thighs, taste the two of you—clean you with his mouth and smear you across his face until he’s dyed with the two of you.

Instead, he grasps you close when you collapse against his heaving chest. Palm, all rough, blotched with death, pressing against your cheek as he kisses you. Knowing he should get up and clean himself from between your legs; knowing he should go back to his room.

But he wants to remain on the floor. Enjoying this, whatever the fuck it is. Hand stroking your arm, your fingers drawing shapes as your mouth parts from him, flicking a warmer gaze over him, before lying on his chest.

Stay. Because of the storm.

It’s barely that, just droplets of rain occasionally kissing the glass of the windows.

But in his head, he wants to pretend a little longer. Live in some make-believe land that this is your two’s house, he found it—safety, built ease into your muscles, allowed the callouses to rid from clutching weapons you shouldn’t know how to use. That it’s just a night where the two of you can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where the two of you just feel safe.

“Sure,” he replies in a gruff. “F’the storm.”

Sighing in contentment, rather than annoyance, even if he knows there’s so much suspended in the air—words not spoken or shared.

He almost thinks he could. Almost thinks the moment calls for it—a little whisper, a selection of perfectly chosen words that would wrap you in the knowledge you mean something to him.

But, he thinks you know.

Hopes it, anyway.

AN: shout out to G, who had to listen to me ramble about this two months ago. i hope, once you read this, it's worth the wait.

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

Hey guys!

Hopefully some of you made the switch to the black ops side since I made my last post!!

I just thought I would add a link to my own story on ao3! Some of the chapters are better than others but this is the first fanfic I’ve written since 2015 so just keep that in mind 😚

[incidentallysunny]

Through The Skin

Real Uncle!Leon

Dead dove warning.

7k word count. Proof read lightly. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I'd like to appear in the tagz pls so here's a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing fxcked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don't be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, age-gap, overall just some disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, public female oral-recieving, Leon has dick piercings surprise, make and female oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, spitting, any probably some other irrelevant shit I'm forgetting my bad.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it's a long one.

To be quite frank, you didn’t give a shit about a single holiday party that your parents threw. Having to hug and touch on people you didn’t even know, putting on a fake smile and pretending as if you remembered them at all. Exhausting for a young woman to keep up this charade for so long. You’re sure your relatives noticed the dying spark in your eyes over time. Living Growing does that to a person. You spent all night fetching beers and other pre-packaged, alcoholic drinks- hoping he would show up every time you had to hand one out. Still one less face you’re can be enthralled to see.

You sat at the dining table, leaned onto an elbow with your face in your palm. Clearly a dejected and annoyed pose but everyone here was too cheery or already deep in the ‘special occasion’ wine bottle to even piece that together. Your other hand traced the ringed patterns in the wood surface, wondering how old it had been before it was chopped down ruthlessly by some hot guy with a chainsaw who was getting paid way too much to be fucking up nature left and right. All so that some college-aged girl could sit at the furniture it had been made into and sulk. God, an almost 40 year old tree. That’s pretty fucking old. You’re glad it lived a somewhat long life (in human years, not tree years.) ‘Cause some trees live a few hundred or even thousand years. So maybe it was taken too soon before it became the placeholder for your familial drunken talks. While you were distracted, annoyed, and pitying yourself, the table all erupted into ‘Hey, long time no see!’s , laughter, and other delightful sentiments that were jolly and deafening enough to make you jump. Loud noises weren’t your thing.

Before you could regain your composure and turn your torso in the hand-carved, deep-brown varnished chair- a hand graced the presence of your slumped shoulder.

“Hey, babydoll. Long time no see.” The voice greeted, husky and rough like a patch of concrete you’ve definitely scraped your knee on a time or two. Basically, it was familiar, which is what you’re getting at.

Uncle Leon.

You turned your full body now, swinging your legs to the side of the seat- a few laughs slopped from the table.

Everyone knew how much you loved and fawned over your Uncle- your dad rivaling how much you seemed to prefer his brother over him. Well duh, dad. It’s because he’s fun and you’re a hard-ass. And ugly to look at. Your poor, poor mom.

It had been years since you saw your uncle. Since you were freshly 18, to be exact. Your dad wasn’t too keen on having him around his barely-legal daughter- probably because he could practically smell it on you that you want your uncle to pop your cherry. You still remembered his few quirks, too. He was always sloppy yet casually drunk wherever he was, he hated fireworks (due to PTSD as your dad explained), and he had always been known to be grabby with people- probably because of the alcohol. He was a weird guy, but you loved him all the same. It broke the normalcy of your home and made things interesting to be around him. However- none of this was the focus. His stubble, dark-liquored bags under his eyes that almost resemble eyeliner, and dark-tinted hair were. And god, his chin. Could be a replacement for a Sybian, if you had one. All of that aside, he looks sexy. That’s so fucking weird to say about your dad’s brother, but calling it weird is also so outdated. Fucking your hot, middle-aged uncle is in; getting a boyfriend your age is out.

You stood up swiftly, hugging him tightly around the waist and almost toppling him. He chuckled, steadying himself with one arm around your back and the other on the table to catch himself. Once he felt he was steady enough, the other arm joined around you- the embrace squeezing you like a stress ball. You worried that your eyes might be a little more loose in your skull than before.

“Gotta be careful, kiddo. You’re gonna take down your uncle one of these days.” He teases, moving out of the hug and letting his hands explore their way down your back- resting on the small of it. Digits perched like a bird where your back starts to curve into your ass- not sweetly or gentle- but like one of those huge-taloned hawks that would rip your flesh off. You only say that because his hands are big and rough- and you’ve heard stories of what your uncle does for work (plus the alcohol is making him need to stabilize himself so he doesn’t crash you both into the nearby counter and cause any serious brain injury. At least then you could excuse the bubbling of strange feelings as TBI). Oh, and with how handsy he was known to be (Just ask your Aunt Claire on your mom’s side). But he had never been that way with you- not until now.

You see your dad eyeing him like the same kind of big-taloned hawk from across the table. They’re cut from the same feathers- except your dad must have been the one that never learned to fly. Pushed out of the nest by a sharp shove of a beak and bit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down. Cause he’s a lot weaker and uglier than your uncle. How he pulled your mom is a miracle and a mystery.

“Hey, uh. Honey. Come sit back down. No need in playing into your uncle’s fashionably late, drunken stupor.” He quips towards you while grilling Leon about being late, nursing his own drink with that ugly grin. You roll your eyes. Leon removes his hands from you- putting them up in defense of himself and leaving your back with an empty feeling.

“Hey, hey. Just hugging my beautiful niece.” He turned to address you again. “Been years since I’ve seen you, sweetheart. Look even better than your momma.” You feel a blush creep up at Leon’s words, but your dad clears his throat and your mom pays him no mind. Just an eye roll and sip of a wine cooler. To be honest, even she probably fucked your uncle. You couldn’t blame her if she did.

You huff and sit back down, crossing your arms. Your dad always had to ruin everything. If you fuck your uncle or kiss him or whatever and don’t like it, you can just go to therapy. Leon snickered behind you, patting your shoulder before leaning in next to your ear.

“Come join me out on the deck in a bit. I’m sure you’re tired of being smothered in here with the fun police.”

You feel muggy from his words. Like a Louisiana swamp type muggy. Is your hair sticking to you? Are there zika-virus bearing mosquitos pricking you or is that just undiagnosed anxiety?

You bounce your leg under the table while you hear the sliding door open and close in the distance. Minutes pass of you twiddling your thumbs- and you excuse yourself to sneak off- exiting out the same heavy sliding door that Leon used.

When you sealed it behind you- the smell of whiskey filled your nostrils- sizzling off any hairs that your nose so proudly grew for much needed germ-protection. A hand slapped itself gracelessly onto the glass above you in the dark, trapping you in place. Predictable uncle.

“Shit, sorry sweetheart. Lost my footing. Y’know how it is. I’m always taking spills here and there.” You felt giddy and blistered all over, speaking back to him.

“S’okay. Sorry about dad.” You excused, breathing in. Leon’s other hand patted you low on your hip as he chuckled into your ear- sending off more whiskey breath.

“It’s okay, sweet thing. Your dad can be that way. I’m not exactly safe to be around in his eyes. Besides, he’s just doing his job- looking out for his little girl.” He explains, not making any efforts to move. You predicted this- but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Why’s that?” You dare to ask, sounding purposefully puzzled- but Leon knows better. And you know the answer.

“It’s ‘cause your Uncle likes ‘em young and pretty.” He mulls the information over you, the words sliding down you like a vibration that sets off a perfect sensation to your already throbbing clit. Because you’re always horny. The hand on your hip now kneads your ass under your skirt- somehow getting there without notice.

“O-oh.” You choke on the word like it’s quicksand in your throat- but only the quicksand is the prospect of having your uncle plow you until you develop early onset dementiaSo really, the quicksand isn’t bad in this instance. You jump into it face first for a good mouthful.

“Shouldn’t be wearing something so short when you know your dirty old uncle is coming over. Can’t keep my eyes where they’re supposed t’be.” He mutters low, leaning down to tickle the shell of your ear with his voice.

“Knew you were coming over. I wanted to look pretty for you.” Saying it makes your head spin, but like in the good way. The sound Leon makes is between a groan that says ‘good god, I’m going to bury my cock inside you right the fuck now’ and ‘I figured as much’. A simple cocktail of horniness and knowing.

“Mm, just want to kiss you everywhere, you know? Love it how sweet you are.” He murmurs into your scented hair, using the hand from the wall to push aside any strands that are in his way. He kisses the back of your neck and his breath scorches your skin. The affection is sloppy and leaves small bits of saliva behind, his barely-darting-out tongue making you ache even more.

“U-uncle.” You shuddered, a slight protest to your voice. Not ‘cause you don’t like it but because you’re worried someone will see. Or that you’ll never want off of his dick. He can be your personal IUD, all buried in your cervix.

Leon ignored the shared thought that someone could see because the way you referred to him made his dick jump in his jeans. Plus, the whole family knows he’s a sleeze. They’d see him balls deep in you and say ‘Ah, that’s Leon for you’ And look the other way until his next sexual prospect. One of the many reasons that Aunt Claire doesn't visit and Aunt Ada divorced his ass. Her loss. You’d happily share him if it were you. It’s only right to share a man that looks like a washed-up pornstar. His dick is great too. Not ‘cause you’re guessing- but because you saw it one time. Last time you saw him actually- the whole incident that left you wanting to see him again oh-so-badly. He had stumbled in the bathroom to piss- ignoring you at the sink. It’s whatever, he was totally wasted and probably didn’t see you. Nor did he probably see the fact you were gawking at his big dick. Or his nice ass, cause he had let his pants drop completely in his hazy state.

“Mm, what is it, babydoll? Hey- Think anyone’d notice if I fingered this sweet little pussy right now?” His voice cut through your memory and thick, long fingers teased the swell of your pussy lips through your underwear, making your hips contract with excitement. Your breath fans over the glass and smogs it.

“I don’t know- maybe.” You huff, trying to keep your composure. It sure is fucking hard when God’s gift to women is about to finger-fuck you at your parent’s house with 20 or so family members inside the property. You second guess yourself now. Maybe God's gift to women doesn’t go around playing with a pussy that belongs to their niece. Or maybe God was fed up with some girls missing out so he created sexually-attractive uncle’s to even any scores. You’ll be attending church this upcoming Sunday. Not because you’re going to follow through with blood-related fornication but because you want to thank the higher-ups properly for this fine piece of ass you’re about to receive from. Or maybe you shouldn’t step foot there, the whole ‘bursting into flames for egregious sinning’ type thing. Wait a minute- there’s literally daddy-daughter incest in the Book of Genesis, so you’ll happily sin away and tell god to fuck off while doing it. Okay maybe that’s a little uncalled for.

Leon tugged your panties to the side, breathing shakily.

“Fuck. I gotta see it, baby.” He mumbles, dropping to one knee with the other bent and still supporting the front of him. Underwear aside, he uses his hands to spread you out- taking in the sight of your damp folds. Damp is putting it lightly. His thumb collects some of your slick and he nearly cums right there.

“You save your first time for me?” He questions. In his mind, you’ve already had a dick or two. He can work with that. Those little guys your age don’t match up to him, but he’s blindsided when you whine about being a virgin, begging him to stick it in or something. Now, Leon’s not the greatest guy morally. At all. But if he’s going to pop your pussy like a soda cap for the first time, he’s going to do it in private cause he’s not stopping for anything. And privacy allows just that. Again- it’s not about it being special, just private. He’ll turn you out good and well.

“Sorry sweetheart. I wanna fuck this needy hole when it’s just us. Think you can wait?” He asks, before darting his tongue out to taste you and lapping up any of you that’s continuously dripping out from pent-up arousal. Your knees almost buckle and he puts his hands under the curve of your ass to hold you still. Your brain goes so mushy you almost forgot to respond.

“Y-yes, uncle Leon.” You whine like a pathetic puppy- begging for something that it didn’t need. But actually, you did need your uncle’s dick so badly. He laughs against your cunt, seemingly happy with that answer. Before you can properly nut like you want, you see your dad pass by in the distance of the sliding door. You tap the glass gently to alert Leon with a small series of clicks. He shoots his head up, yanking your panties back into place and using the sleeve of his leather jacket to wipe his mouth.

“Fuck- always such a blue-balling asshole for anyone, I swear. Sorry, pretty girl.” He smooths down your hair, making sure you look presentable. Well- besides your face that���s red enough to be used as a lit flare.

“Go inside. I’m sure he’s looking for you, babydoll.” He grabs you drunkenly by the upper arm, pulling you in to kiss you on the cheek.

“Come by mine sometime. I’ll be home, for once.” He mutters the last part, loosening his hold on you and starting down the steps of the deck.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Uncle Leon.” You sound so disappointed and miserable. Pouty. Leon gets it.

“Later, babydoll.”

He heads down the path of the backyard and through the connecting gate that leads to the driveway, the sound of his motorcycle’s engine revving is the cue that he’s definitely headed off.

You let yourself back in, acting inconspicuous. But your dad is already waiting with crossed arms. Yuck.

“Did I not tell you several times about hanging around your uncle. He’s a weird guy. I don’t mind him coming over but, god.” He lays into you, mostly just insulting his brother. You roll your eyes as you normally do. You’ve never not had an attitude with your father. He was born to be shit on in your eyes- barely deserved your mom, as is. Besides, He had no backbone whatsoever.

“Just go upstairs.” He asked, cause he never told you to do anything. Just asked and hoped you’d listen. You were pleased enough to have gotten as much as your uncle tonguing your cunt, so you can comply a bit longer. You go upstairs to your room, shutting the door and lying down.

—

It’s a week later when you finally get to see your uncle. You managed to convince your dad to let you borrow his car, ‘cause you’re a broke college student and can’t afford that right now. Plus you’re spoiled but not enough for a car, apparently. Whoops. Probably because your dad knows as soon as he signs the papers, you’re going to drive to his brother’s house and impale yourself on his dick for life. He’d rather you go to college and get a train ran on you or something, at least.

You hoped you had remembered the right place at first, until Leon’s motorcycle was spotted in the lot. Good, he’s home. You still questioned your memory as you were walking up the flights of stairs in the apartment building, tugging down the back of your skirt when you felt it was airing out your ass too much (for any passerbys, not Leon). After reaching the 12th floor and navigating the scarily clean hallway (the few decorations in the area made it less horror-esque), you found the right (?) door. Your knock was soft because again, you weren’t entirely sure. Just going off of childhood memories.

After hearing a shuffle inside, it didn’t take long for it to swing open, Leon standing in the doorway shirtless with a pair of grey, thin sweatpants loose on his hipbones. His v-line was saying hello to you. Hello to you, too.

“Pretty girl! Hey! Thought you’d never come by. Sorry about the attire- been having a lazy day since I’m off work.” He moved aside for you to come in, the door shutting behind you when you accepted the unspoken invitation. His place was nice. A little cluttered with a half-packed suitcase; clothes messily thrown on top and some paperwork and a passport in a heap on the desk nearby, but still nice. Not to mention spacious. Thank god.

“It’s okay, really. You deserve some relaxation time, you know?” You try to be cool and collected- not getting to the main point of your visit. Even if you did have genuine interest in your uncle as a person.

“Isn’t that the truth? Want a drink?” He asked, already walking towards his kitchen. You don’t immediately reply because the sway of his ass is… something else, but you manage to snap yourself from the hypnotizing gaze of it. He’s got a whiskey glass and bottle already on the counter, waiting for a reply.

“Sure.” You tell him, knowing damn well you can’t handle your alcohol. You get all fucking lovey and touchy, and you’ve only drank like 3 times. And sure. You did come here to fuck him, but you were nervous. Okay, never mind. That gives a complete need for liquid courage.

He makes his way to the hallway- switching something on the AC control before sitting on the couch, adjacent from the chair you’re nestled in. You’re taking small sips of the whiskey, burning your throat, sinuses, and any nervousness down like a forest fire. Leon just sits, legs splayed apart like how men always sit. Except you can see his fat-ass dick print. God, kill me now. Or after I’ve sucked it, at least. You see, too, what looks like indents in the fabric- piercings maybe? Or the folds of the pants are sitting weird.

“Did you find the place okay?” He asks, coming off like he cares- which he does- but he’s mostly waiting to get you and himself sloppy for fucking so he’s just stalling now.

You nod, bottom lip tucked into your mouth- if you talk it’s going to be about his dick being huge or his dick being inside you. Leon allows you another deep sip, finishing off the liquid completely.

“I actually remembered how to get here just about perfectly.” You spoke, laughing a little. Yeah, you’d be gone completely in a few minutes. You already felt yourself slipping into a hazy, bubbly state. Leon could tell, too. Good for him. He loved when the girl was sloppier than the pussy attached to her.

“Smart girl. Always have been.” He took a long, heavy drink- finishing off his glass. You watched how his stomach twitched or moved even the slightest when he adjusted himself, the same with his arms. He was muscular yet lean- like he didn’t eat enough some days. Figures. Beauty isn’t easy and he looked good, and maybe that’s why he got plastered all the time so easily. No appetite=no tolerance. However, you were most certainly not afraid to look at the hard work. Even more so with alcohol brewing in your stomach acid and then liver.

Leon patted his leg, fingers drumming on the material of his sweatpants.

“Come sit. You can tell me more about it on your uncle’s lap.” Gross. Gross in the hot way. The gross-hot way you want him to fold and twist you like a pretzel. So no, you don’t abhor the idea of sitting in his lap.

You don’t even hesitate, standing and nearly falling over- realizing you forgot how wobbly your legs could get while inebriated. Leon reached forward to grab your hand and waist, letting you fall directly onto his lap, ass to crotch. Like a puzzle piece. An incestual puzzle piece- which ideally shouldn’t fit together but it just does.

You feel his cock twitch under you; he’s anticipated this, obviously. His hands slid up your thighs, and down again, then back up- like he’s appreciating them.

“Got the prettiest legs, baby. Want them on your uncle’s shoulders, don’t you?” He cooed, scooting you to the edge of his lap just enough to get his cock out of his bottoms. You turn to look behind you, twisting yourself a bit to get a look at it. Christ. One, he was big. The kind of dick that couldn’t stand ‘cause it was heavy and long. Two. It had a few piercings down the front of his shaft, gleaming in the light. So not only were you about to take your first dick, but a pierced one (like you had suspected). Okay…you didn’t remember seeing those the only other time you ever saw his dick by accident. New additions.

Leon stroked your hair with the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

“Trust me, feels a lot better than it looks. I promise it doesn’t hurt. Even for virgins.” He adds, like he knows that for a fact. “Nothing you can’t handle for me.”

Okay, he’s right. You’d take his fist if it meant his approval, honestly. How bad could it be?

You move to spin yourself around on his lap, Leon’s amused at your eagerness. He holds his cock, spitting down onto it so he can stroke himself while he puts a hand onto your neck. You’re pulled by the hold into a slow, messy, spitty kiss. He’s definitely experienced, as you are not. His tongue makes its way against yours like he’s silently teaching you how to kiss him open mouthed. Not so hard, you think. He groans into your mouth as he handles himself, maneuvering his cock to brush against your underwear; prodding your clothed clit under your skirt.

You mewl against his lips which only spurs him to kiss you a little more rough now, assuming you’re ready for it. Which you definitely don’t mind. His hand squeezes the side of your neck affectionately, a thumb tracing the skin. You’re thankful you’re in his lap because your knees are weak and your head feels dizzy. It was an exchange of sighs and heavy breathing- no distance. Your hands tangled into his dark locks which is something that Leon loved; having his hair pulled (you could tell by his lusty growl and the shift of his hips). He truly was the epitome of a kinky, dirty old man. If pushing 40 was old. Well, to be fair, you did call the dead tree of a table at your parent’s house old, ‘cause it was 40.

He pulled off of you, your now un-joined mouths drippy with saliva.

“Get in between your Uncle’s legs. Wanna see that pretty mouth on this cock.” He urged, and you found yourself with your calves folded under you in between his parted thighs. He held his cock proudly, and to be honest, the piercings look daunting. How did you even expect yourself to suck on it like you’ve seen in porn? Maybe you should have spent more time watching guys with pierced dicks instead of the step category. You had a preference, clearly.

You snaked your hands up to him, holding his cock with a puzzled look clear on your face. Leon laughed, not like he was laughing at you but the way you laugh at someone when you think what they’re doing is cute.

“Don’t worry about them too much, gorgeous. Just do it how you think you would normally. But pay careful attention with your tongue. Won’t hurt me any, promise.” He reassures you thoroughly, chuckling through a sexually intense gaze. Okay, it seems…. easy enough. Didn’t know dirty old uncles could be so sweet about having their dick sucked.

You lean forward, Leon guiding the head to your mouth.

“Just go slow and focus on the tip. Don’t want my girl to be uncomfortable, now do I?” His girl? You liked the sound of that. Enjoyed it very much. You’d be his girl wherever and whenever. You took him past your lips- suckling on the tip softly and swirling your tongue around it.

“Just like that- fuck- you’re doing great, babydoll.”

The praise edged you on, and you managed enough confidence to glide your tongue down his shaft and over the piercings- flicking over them pornographically. You felt like it was just right. If fucking your uncle could be right in any way of the sense. Leon groaned and his head fell back onto the couch. A large hand found its way to your hair, holding it into a makeshift ponytail. You discovered that it wasn’t too daunting- it was possible to bob your head a little while keeping your tongue exploring the piercings in small swirls and flicks. Just makes your jaw a little tired faster. Besides, seems less scary than taking it inside you.

It’s an alternation of the previous movements and kitten licking up the front of him, and the adornments on his skin only seem to make everything feel much more stimulating. His breath deepens and he guides you now with your hair in hand- looking down at you through deep-brown bangs.

“Fuck- that’s it. Just look at you, dirty little niece I’ve got here, sucking her uncle’s cock like she was made for it. God- so damned pretty with your tongue on me.” His head falls back again for a moment, before he sits up- his labored panting evident.

“Christ. Okay- can’t take it anymore. C’mon, baby. Up.” He says, smacking your bottom when you stand in front of him. You’re feeling a bit ‘five seconds away from crashing into the coffee table and impaling yourself on the broken wood’ type of drunk now.

“Uncle Leon’s gonna pop that cherry, got it? Now sit down and let me lick that sweet pussy. Can still taste it after last time.” He’s speaking filthy things you should hear and run in the opposite direction from- but you don’t.

“My room. Remember where that is?” He mumbles, standing behind you now while he runs his hands down your sides- possessively grabbing at any fabric on you.

You shake your head no.

“Can’t remember. Need you to show me.” You whisper to him, putting your hands over his on your sides. He just muffles a laugh into the crook of your neck and shuffles you along in front of him, the two of you almost falling over multiple times on the way to his bedroom. You’re sure that something did get knocked off the wall at one point, but you literally do not care in any way.

Leon staggers you into the room and pushes you back onto the bed, shedding off his sweatpants. Naked, no boxers. Just full, thick cock and a trail of hair leading up to his belly-button that you haven’t let your eyes leave for however long you’ve been here. Oh, and muscled thighs. One of the greater parts of a man. His hands find their way to your thighs, tugging you to the edge of the bed before invading his thumbs into the waistband of your panties.

“Let’s get these off.” He grunts, pulling them down your legs and tossing them only for the undergarment to land in an unseen place. You go to tug off your skirt, until his hands pin yours to the bed.

“Want you to keep that on. Looks cute.” He says, retracting from you and sinking down at the edge of the bed. In no wasted time, his mouth is lazily lapping at your cunt- making your back bend in the reaction of immediate, overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed at the sheets until you remembered how his body responded when you pulled at his hair- so you found your hold there instead. Tugging his darkened strands with the pace he was eating you out at- stubble against your pussy and nose in your mound. His cheeks tickled your thighs, punching out a soft giggle and squirm from your body between the moaning. It makes him smile into you- reaching a hand up to knead your breast. Honestly, you hoped that the roof caved in right now and took you to your death because no moment would be better than this and that in itself made you suicidal.

You feel a finger slip past your hole, curling itself into that soft wall of fleshy, orgasmic sponge. The noise that left you was new, for sure and the muscle in his mouth jerked against your clit in tandem. It seemed Leon had the same deep feeling and worry you did about his dick even fitting, cause he added a second finger. Then tried to add a third but gave up because he actually wanted his dick to do that labor. He can be selfish, okay? It didn’t take long for you to cum either, duh. He was a skilled whore of a man and you’re a virgin. Or will be for only a few more minutes- probably less.

Your legs shake and tense, your heart thumps viciously, and your fingers threaten to tangle his hair into knots and make him start balding. Not happening no matter how hard you yank, though. His genes are too good for that. He was made for rough pulls to his mane. Made to take damage both mentally and physically. Made for splitting open cute, slutty nieces like you.

While you recovered, he licked his lips and fingers as clean as he could- missing the further parts of his stubbled cheeks. He stood up, hand on his lower back (‘cause duh, he’s old as dirt), and reached into the nightstand for a condom- which you gave him a look before he could open it. A look that told him ‘please, please, please don’t put it on! sure, fuck your blood-relative niece raw and possibly knock her up! Might not have to worry because you’re an alcoholic and your sperm quality is low, though.’ So fuck away.

He was a sucker for your big, glossy eyes and the slutty pout of your bottom lip. Not mentioning- he wouldn’t have worn a condom anyway. Would have just slipped it off before he stuck his dick in you. A virgin couldn’t tell the difference. What? You expected a man that fucks his own family to have morals for things lesser than that? No chance.

“Please, Uncle.” You begged softly, Leon knowing what you want without actually saying it. He’s great at reading people.

“Fucking hell. You’re something else. You want it that bad, huh?” He laughed, pleased by you beseeching him with so little words. You nodded, no objections about it. He tossed the unopened condom back in the drawer and shut it impatiently, making the lamp wobble.

“Changed my mind. Everything off. Gotta see that pretty set of tits.” The words were matter of fact and laced with a bit of erection-fueled urgency.

You reach your hands up to remove your shirt, then discard your bra and skirt. Left in the nude as naked as the day you were cut from your moms stomach. C-section baby and all that. Only this time there was no blood. Yet, anyways.

When you were stark naked, Leon pushed you firmly onto his bed again- folding you by the backs of your thighs, legs pressed to your chest and gifting your stomach with that cute roll thing it did. Leon liked that on a woman.

He grabbed his cock, positioning it against your slick that dribbled from your yet-to-be-abused hole. He was gonna change that. You could feel his one of the piercings resting against your skin down below- a tsunami of anxiety settling over your delicate village of a body.

“Might hurt a little, babydoll. Can’t promise I’m gonna be gentle with her.” He referred to your pussy, your hole fluttering when he talked. You gave a look of understanding and acknowledgement.

“God, want it so bad.” You whined under him, the position he had your legs in made you even crazier about having him in you, like, yesterday.

He didn’t savor the moment so that he could push into you, he just did it. The feeling of each piercing bumping your hole on the way in. It felt fucking good, but also his dick stretching you out was intense and stung like a papercut.

His hands held your thighs down into your stomach- giving you a novice contortionist experience, and you could see the veins in his forearm pop a little. Your mind raced with the following anxieties; ‘What if a piercing cuts my insides and I die from sepsis or something? What if a piercing ball comes off and is lost inside me forever? Maybe I should stretch more.’ The first two were irrational but maybe not so much so, or else you wouldn’t be thinking of them. You’re not the first woman to think any of it.

“Fuck- there we go. Shit. You feel incredible, baby.” He dropped the doll in favor of calling you baby this time, making you squeeze around him as he bottoms out, balls against your ass. Yep. A bruised cervix was in your future. Going to have to come up with an excuse for why you won’t be able to get out of bed for the next few days. You thought other girls were just exaggerating this whole time about feeling yourself be split open, what the hell was he trying to do? Dig out your uterus with his dick? Does he really have to be so deep? It’s, like, really hot and feels really fucking good, but also, slightly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the position.

Either way, he’s feeding your ego.

You let your head relax onto the bed instead of continuing to hold it up, ‘cause doing that was much more painful.

“God.” You muttered, relieved to be full and get the virginity loss out of the way. You should be getting a cake and celebration for this, if it wasn’t your uncle. But still. Taking big, pierced dick deemed trophy worthy. Or maybe a plaque.

Leon gazed down at you through straight locks, shaking them out of his face a little. He pulled himself out, minus the tip, before pushing back in with a groan- his Adam’s Apple bobbing hypnotically. Your spine arched, lifting your back off the mattress and your hands dug into your own thighs, helping hold them in place.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, the difference between it being pure hormones and condescension was blurred. Could have been both. He doesn’t give that much of a timeframe to start dragging his cock in and out of you, slowly picking up speed and bottoming out each time- balls slapping against your bottom.

You babble nonsensically, the ribbed sensation of his piercings almost sending you into hysterics. Something about yes, yes. I love it. Need you to fuck me so hard that my dad disowns me because I’m wheelchair bound and he knows why.

“Feels good, baby. I know it. Bet it’s hitting places you didn’t even know you had.” If he wasn’t so fucking hot, you’d probably have the ick from how cocky he is. Or not, you’re fucked up.

He leaned forward over you more to tangle into your hair, guiding your head to more of an angle and exposing your neck. You were so overwhelmed from how hard and deep he’s fucking you, not to mention his dick feels like how you imagine a beginner level bad dragon dildo to feel. Or maybe a less monster-y version anyways. It just feels fucking good and that’s all you needed to care about. Soft, airy cries crawl their way from your throat and leave you between that and moaning. Uncle, please. Please, please, please, harder.

“Let it all out, that’s it. Uncle Leon’s gonna take good care of this pussy.”

You nod as much as you can with his hold on your hair, and he pants into your collarbone, sweaty and nasty on top of you. You feel like you’re almost being crushed under his weight but it’s only hotter, and gets even more when you feel his free hand slip between your damp bodies to thumb your aching and still-sensitive clit. You tighten around his cock in reaction- gasping.

“Take it, babydoll. Fuck. Show me how much you want your uncle to make you cum. Belong on my cock, you know it?”

Your brain is off somewhere in a hot air balloon, far from its preferred skull. Which is yours. He speaks in ways you didn’t imagine you’d ever get to be spoken to or even enjoy. But it’ll be the only thing that gets you off from now on, no doubt about it.

“Uh huh, belong on your dick forever. Never wanna take it out.” Yeah. You’re stupid for him.

“Fuck. That’s my girl. Keep talking like that and I’m not ever letting you go.”

You nod your head.

“Want that, want that so bad. ‘D let you fuck me whenever you want, uncle.”

His lips curl into a half-pressed grin before he’s panting again- a bead of sweat dripping onto him. You remember he did something with the AC. Yeah-to the heat in the apartment is frying you good and well. Guess he wanted the sex to be extra clammy and gross. You know, besides the incest.

“Christ. Fuck, yes.” He groans deep, throaty and carnal.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. You’d be the prettiest little girlfriend. Sitting around waiting to get fucked all the time. I know how needy my baby is.” Christ. You’re going to the deepest abyss in hell. You’re sure whatever torment awaits is worth it though, so it’s not a big deal right now.

“Wanna be yours.” You choke, throat dry. Ah, you remember you’re intoxicated. That must be why you’re so loose at saying this stuff.

“Open up.” He huffs, almost face to face with you but still enough that his breath is hot on your features. You’re hasty to open your mouth like a whore, Leon dribbling his gathered spit down onto your tongue.

“Gotta keep you hydrated, baby. Can’t have that throat getting raw, can we?” You nod, there’s so many nasty things happening you can’t process it properly- unaware of everything as you cum a second time on his hand, squeezing his dick like a much softer and less dangerous guillotine.

His thrusts were a little more sloppy and erratic- alcohol fully set in for the both of you. Normally, he’d be able to hold off his orgasm a little longer- but combatting it wasn’t an option in this drunken state.

“Christ- so fucking pretty and tight when you cum on my dick. Gonna cum too, baby. Don’t think I can pull out right now.”

You shake your head no.

“Don’t pull out, please. Please uncle, ‘ll do whatever you want.”

He laughs brokenly, choked up from the moans that need to come out first.

“God, yes. Okay. Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, baby.”

He focuses a few more thrusts, hard enough to make it hurt a little and sloppy enough to still be just the right amount of perfect.

“Here it comes, baby. Need you to take i- shit.” He buried deep inside you as he came hard, rasped voice and all while he held his place firm. His hair is stuck to his face in some areas, his natural scent emanating off of the sweat droplets.

His dick spasms inside you, filling you with every bit of semen he’s got pent up in him. You could almost feel the way your cunt was full of his cum, having no room around his dick to go anywhere, really.

He relaxed a little, letting out a long, pleasurable groan. You yourself joined him in letting your body go limp as it could in this position. He grabbed your legs to straighten them out and let them wrap around his waist, making you realize they were folded too long and that they ache a bit.

He kissed your collarbone, picking up his head and kissing your cheek next.

“Mm. Did so great for me, babydoll. Not gonna be able to let you go now.” He teased, another peck to your mouth that you managed to reciprocate just in time.

“Then don’t.” You tell him, mumbling.

“I can manage that. Could easily be my girl. Would have to be our little secret, though.” He adds at the end, threading his fingers in your hair.

Yeah, you’re not turning down that offer.

[rascal-xo]

send in y’all’s Price/Ghost/Soap suggestions |My requests are open for any other kind of fic suggestions as well!|

[diejager]

I can envision everything now....

༉‧₊˚. TEASING COD CHARACTERS...

CHARACTERS: 141 + los vaqueros, könig & horangi, graves, valeria, russell alder & frank woods, keegan russ.

WARNINGS: punishments, burning with a cigar, slapping, smut obvs. (female anatomy, female reader)

GHOST scoffs at your audacity, quickly putting you in your place with a few filthy words. your hands running up his thigh, palming his stiff cock over his boxers before you're pushed to your knees and his thick, muscular thighs are caging your head against the wall. shoving his lengthy dick down your throat till you're gasping and banging on his broad hips for a break, voice raspy and strained.

PRICE doesn't take it very well, not at all, infact. you'd been all desperate and needy for his length, begging him to allow you to suck him off nicely in the middle of a debriefing. his head supporting the crown of your head and his meaty, girthy cock stuffed into your mouth, leaving him drooling as the debriefing ended before you're pushed over the table and your pretty, slick panties are down at your knees. fucked you ruthlessly for hours until you were apologising profusely and whining for him to gentle.

SOAP finds it funny. you're bratty, whiney attitude replaced with obedience as he spreads your legs apart and cuts your panties off with a sharpened knife. his tongue dragging up your sensitive slit before curling inside your hole, flicking at your wet clit till your gasping for him to eat you out. but, do you really deserve it? perhaps, you show show him how desperate you really are by rubbing your cunt against his military boots...

GAZ is the type to tease you back. refusing and denying his orgasm after sucking him off, lips wrapped tightly around his shaft and sucking up before pulling off with a ‘pop'. soon, you're pushed up against the shower wall with his leaky tip swirling around your wet hole, easing inside your asshole and making you squirm from the texture of each vein lugging against your soft, gummy walls. you're a panting, sticky mess, plugging your pretty pussy with your fingers as he ruins your tight asshole, cumming deep inside and pulling multiple orgasms out of you before leaving you a trembling, wet and horny mess; desperate for just one more orgasm. :(

ALEJANDRO chuckles lowly, the deep sound emitting from his chest as he backs you up against the concrete wall outside the bar you'd two just visited with a few friends. you'd been giving him lustful eyes, making him hard, dick straining inside his boxers as he groans deeply under his breath. you nuzzle your head against his clothed crotch, on your knees, your tongue lapping over his bulge. alejandro might just have to throat fuck you for being such a filthy whore, treat you like the dirty girl you are through a sloppy blowjob, eyelids heavy and lips swollen and puffy from taking every single inch he had to offer your poor mouth.

RUDY almost felt cruel whilst punishing you; seeing you a dirty, sticky and desperate mess bent over his thighs made him feel horrible, yet he couldn't help how his cock twitched inside his boxer briefs, almost begging to be freed as it leaked inside, staining his boxers. you whimpered as he pushed the dildo inside your tight hole, the way you covered it in slick and begged for him to be go rougher on you. being refused and overstimulated with the tip of the toy against your sensitive nub, his face fingers pinching your hardened nipples with each thrust, refusing your orgasm for hours and encouraging you through breathy grunts and sweet praise.

KÖNIG had been hard practically all day, especially since you'd been teasing him by wearing some skimpy pjama shorts that showed off the perfect curve of your ass. you whimpered with each spank, the belt smacking against your tight rear as you whined, mewling and wriggling your hips with each painful slap. he degraded you, humilated you into a dirty, embarrassed mess... all whiney for his big cock stuffed inside your tight, wet cunt. you gasped, the belt smacking against your skin and leaving it raw, knocking the wind from your lungs with tears staining your pretty face, all ruined and sensitive. :(

HORANGI doesn't take teasing so well... seeing you hitting on other men at the casino whilst he hung out with some friends from KORTAC. you felt a large, calloused hand grab at your wrist, pulling you into a secluded area before ripping down your slick panties, leaving you bare and wet. he fucked you with his thick fingers , making you grasp at his shoulders and whine as he eased them further inside, trembling and sobbing with each thrust. you cried out in ecstasy, his teeth biting onto your earlobe, kissing your neck and leaving hickeys along your skin. “더러운 창녀...” (dirty fucking whore)

KEEGAN RUSS punishes you through rough sex. forcing you to look into the mirror, watching as he ruined you, his lengthy and veiny dick thrusted into your tight hole with your wrists bound with rope. you whimpered around his fingers, feeling them ease into your mouth, his full balls smacking against your tight ass. showing you what a dirty whore you are after you'd been flirting with other soldiers to make him jealous, his cock throbbing inside your heat. definitely made you clean up the mess you'd made on the mirror, squirting all over the glass... :(

GRAVES didn't mind sharing you. allowing you to be fucked by some of his soldiers, watching from afar and stroking his lengthy dick slowly whilst they rutted into you. but, you'd been refusing sex with him to get on his nerves, screaming his soldiers names instead of his during sex, whenever you would, that is... a belt gripped in his grasp, snacking it against your ass whilst he forced your head down on one of his men's shaft, your sounds muffled as he punished you for being such a greedy little thing. refused to let you cum till you were crying out his name, his hard cock pushed between your thighs, humping then while you whimpered for his attention. “someone's needy for attention, huh? yeah? mm', pretty little doll like you gettin' greedy.. ain't'cha just a stupid fuckin' fleshlight...”

VALERIA can't stand being teased. she's a brat tamer, she knows how to deal with dirty girls like you, cumming all down her chin as he eats you out. she'll eat you out for hours, till you're raw and sensitive and overstimulated, babbling out something incoherent as he bites your soft thighs, licking up your slit and covering you in drool. she'll have to get rid of the snarky mouth as well, by forcing your pretty face into her sweet cunny, kissing her pussy and sucking on her needy clit repeatedly, her hand supporting the crown of your skull.

FRANK WOODS will laugh, smoking a lit cigar before putting it out on your thigh. you squirm and cry as he applys pressure onto the open cut, whimpering as he looks at you with a lustful haze, holding your head and forcing you to kiss him sloppily as an apology. he'll get all pissy when you attempt to grind against him, telling you that you don't deserve to cum, and that you deserve to be used as a fleshlight for trying to get him all angry nd everything :( slapping you across the face whenever you retort or protest, whining for your release.

RUSSELL ADLER is the opposite of what frank woods would do. he'd guide your hips back and forth along his clothed thigh, covering his jeans in slick, bare pussy desperate and greedy for the friction she's receiving. you almost forget it's a punishment, whimpering and mewling whilst he gives you a cruel grin, holding you hips in place with an iron grip, holding you from moving. “what, baby? can't stand bein' punished?” you gasp, babbling out some ‘please’'s whilst he humilates you, talking some sense into your stupid brain, whining and frowning at him with glossy eyes. :(

not my best work, but i hope you guys like it 😵‍💫... reblogs, comments and likes ate appreciated :)

banner credit to cafekistune on tumblr**

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 11

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"I don't care where as long as you're with me."

summary: you finally feel like yourself again.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 11

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 10

next | chapter 12

The house was unassuming, hidden deep within the woods, a place where the world seemed to slow down, wrapped in a silence that felt almost sacred. As Joel pulled the truck to a stop, the headlights caught the outline of the modest, two-story house, casting long shadows over the overgrown path that led to the front door. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a stark contrast to the suffocating air of the town you’d left behind.

Joel stepped out first, his eyes scanning the area, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as he helped you out of the truck. The night was quiet, save for the distant chirp of crickets, but you could feel the tension in Joel’s body, the way his muscles were coiled, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

You clung to his side, your steps faltering as exhaustion washed over you again, the events of the past day pressing down on your chest like a weight. Before Joel could knock the door as he carried you with his other hand, the door swung open, revealing Bill's face.

Bill’s grip on the shotgun tightened instinctively, his eyes darting between Joel and you, clearly assessing the situation. The man was all hard edges, a fortress in human form, and in that moment, you realized why Joel had brought you here. Bill was the kind of person who could handle whatever storm was brewing behind Joel’s haunted eyes.

“Jesus, Joel!” Bill barked, lowering the shotgun. His voice was rough, laden with concern and a tinge of anger. “What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Where’s Ellie?”

But then his gaze landed on you, and you could see the shift in his expression—confusion, alarm, and something else that resembled pity. You felt small under his scrutiny, aware of how disheveled you must look, drenched in sweat and blood, carried on Joel's arms.

“Who the hell is this?” Bill’s voice softened slightly, but his suspicion remained.

Joel adjusted his hold on you, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid you might break apart. “I need your help,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading.

Before Bill could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows of the house. Frank, who had clearly been woken by the commotion, appeared at the top of the stairs in his pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Bill, what’s going—Joel?” Frank’s voice trailed off as he saw you, his eyes widening in shock.

Frank’s gaze darted from Joel to you, and his expression immediately shifted from confusion to concern. “What happened? Who is she?”

“She’s hurt,” Joel said, his voice strained as he tried to explain without revealing too much. “Please,"

Frank nodded without hesitation, stepping aside to let you both enter. Bill remained by the door, his eyes never leaving you, as if he was trying to piece together the story Joel wasn’t telling. But Frank, ever the softer of the two, helping Joel with you.

Frank’s panic was evident in his quick, almost frantic movements as he ushered you both inside. "Come, come, come on in," he urged, his voice trembling slightly as he guided Joel toward the couch. Joel still held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he laid you down gently. Frank hurried off to grab some blankets, his footsteps echoing in the quiet house, while Joel knelt beside you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Does it still hurt anywhere?” Joel’s voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of worry that he couldn’t quite mask. His hands were gentle as they brushed over your bandaged wounds, checking to see if the makeshift dressings were holding up.

You managed a small shake of your head, but the truth was, everything still hurt. The adrenaline that had carried you this far was beginning to fade, leaving behind a deep, throbbing pain that seemed to settle into every part of your body. You were too tired to say much, the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids like lead.

Bill, who had been standing by the door, finally stepped forward, his face a mask of stern concern. “Alright, what the fuck is going on, Miller?” His voice was gruff, demanding answers. “What kind of trouble are you in this time?”

Joel ignored Bill’s question for a moment, his focus still entirely on you. He carefully lifted the edge of your shirt to check the bandage on your side, his jaw tightening as he saw the blood starting to seep through. “She’s hurt bad, Bill,” Joel said, his voice strained. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

Bill’s expression darkened, clearly unhappy with the situation, but before he could voice his displeasure, Frank returned with a bundle of blankets, handing them to Joel. “Here, Joel,” Frank said, his tone gentle as he knelt beside you. Joel took the blankets, draping them carefully over you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Bill,” Frank said, turning to his husband with a look that brooked no argument, “we need to help them. Get the first aid kit, now.”

Bill hesitated, his gaze shifting between Joel and you, clearly torn. But Frank’s firm tone left no room for debate. With a grunt of annoyance, Bill finally relented, stalking off to retrieve the kit. “This better not blow up in our faces, Joel,” he muttered as he disappeared into another room.

Frank sat down beside you, his eyes filled with concern as he looked you over. “What happened to her?” he asked Joel quietly, not wanting to pressure you to speak.

Joel hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. “She's hurt bad,” he said simply, his voice low. “Punched hard, Frank.”

Frank’s eyes softened even more, and he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetie," You smile at him weakly.

Bill returned a moment later, a large first aid kit in hand. He tossed it to Joel, who caught it with ease, but his expression was tense. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” Bill grumbled, still not entirely on board with the situation.

Joel opened the kit, his hands hovering uncertainly over the supplies. He was no stranger to injuries, but this was different—this was you, and the thought of causing you more pain made his hands shake slightly. Frank noticed and gently took over, his hands steady and practiced.

“Let me handle this,” Frank said kindly, taking the bandages and antiseptic from the kit. “You just keep her calm.”

Joel nodded, reluctantly stepping back to give Frank room to work. He kept his hand on your shoulder, his touch firm and comforting as Frank began to carefully clean and re-bandage your wounds. You winced at the sting, but Joel’s presence helped keep you grounded, the warmth of his hand reassuring in the cold, unfamiliar house.

Bill remained nearby, his eyes flicking between you, Joel, and the door, ever watchful. He didn’t trust easily, but his loyalty to Joel was enough to keep him from outright refusing to help. For now, that would have to be enough.

As Frank worked, the pain slowly began to subside, the new bandages providing some relief. You were still too weak to speak much, but the kindness in Frank’s eyes and the steadiness of Joel’s presence made you feel safer than you had in a long time.

Finally, Frank finished, securing the last bandage with a gentle pat. “There,” he said softly, giving you a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be okay. Just rest now.”

Joel squeezed your shoulder, his voice low and soothing as he spoke. “You'll be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, the exhaustion tugging at your eyelids once more. You needed sleep, the kind that would pull you under and shield you from the chaos of the world. Frank noticed your weariness and suggested gently, “Joel, why don’t you take her up to the guest room? Let her get some rest.”

Joel nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving you. Without another word, he scooped you up into his arms with a tenderness that contrasted with his usual rugged demeanor. You protested weakly, “I can walk, Joel.”

But he ignored your words, carrying you as if you weighed nothing, his focus entirely on getting you to a place where you could finally find some peace. Frank and Bill followed closely behind as Joel carried you upstairs, their footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor.

The guest room was small but cozy, with soft, warm light spilling in from a lamp on the nightstand. Joel set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. Frank stepped forward, offering a kind smile. “Now, you try to get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”

You managed a tired smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Frank. And Bill… thank you too.”

Frank’s smile widened, full of warmth and reassurance, while Bill gave a curt nod, his gruff exterior softened by the moment. “Yeah, well… just get some sleep,” Bill muttered, his voice rough but not unkind.

Frank, ever the thoughtful one, sensed that you and Joel needed a moment alone. “We’ll give you two some time,” he said, gently guiding Bill out of the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, the room fell into a comfortable silence, leaving you and Joel alone together.

Joel sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze searching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. “How are you feeling now? does it still hurt?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. “I’m fine, Joel. Really, I just need to sleep.”

Joel’s eyes softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. “I’m sorry… for everything. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe, that everything will be okay. I promise you that.”

You frowned, confusion and concern mixing in your expression. “Why are you saying sorry, Joel? You got me out from there,” you whispered, your voice filled with a fragile hope.

Joel sighed, his gaze drifting away from you for a moment as if searching for the right words. “Because… because I dragged you into this mess, darlin’. You didn’t deserve any of it."

His words hung heavy in the air, laden with regret. But to you, Joel had become the light that guided you through the darkness, the beacon that saved you when you thought you couldn’t go on. “But you did get me out, Joel. You saved me. You’re the only thing that feels real, the only thing that makes sense.”

He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I just… I wish I could’ve done it sooner. I wish I could’ve protected you better," His voice cracked slightly, the emotion in it raw and unfiltered.

You shook your head, reaching out to him, trying to soothe the worry etched into his face. “You’re here now, Joel. That’s all that matters. We’re here, together. I don’t care about anything else.”

He exhaled, as if your words were a balm to his weary soul, and he nodded slowly. “And I’ll make sure you’re safe now,” he said quietly.

Joel’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, a silent comfort. “Now, you need to get some sleep. You’re exhausted, rest, and let me take care of the rest.”

He stood up, the bed creaking slightly as he moved away, and as he did, a sudden wave of fear washed over you. The thought of being alone, even for a moment, sent a shiver down your spine. You reached out, grabbing his hand, your voice trembling slightly. “Where are you going, Joel? Don’t leave me… don’t leave me alone.”

Joel stopped, turning back to you, his expression softening at the sight of your distress. He crouched down beside you, taking your hand in both of his. “I’m not leaving, darlin’. I just need to talk to Bill and Frank for a bit. I’ll be right downstairs. You’ll be safe here.”

You hesitated, “Are we staying here? With them?”

Joel nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah, for a little while. Just until we figure out what’s next and where we’re going."

You bit your lip, glancing towards the door. “About your friend, Bill… he doesn’t like me. I can tell.”

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Bill’s just like that with everyone. He’s a good man, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges. Don’t worry about him.”

You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease with Joel’s reassurances. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

You watched as he slowly stood up, his hand lingering in yours until the last possible moment. As he headed towards the door, he turned back one last time, his eyes locking onto yours with a promise.

With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving you to the quiet and the safety of the small guest room. The last thing you saw before sleep claimed you was the faint light from the hallway, a soft reminder that Joel was still close, watching over you even when you couldn’t see him.

As Joel quietly slipped out of the room, the soft glow of the hallway light was the last thing you saw before sleep claimed you, a small comfort that he was still near. Downstairs, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

The moment Joel stepped into the living room, Bill was already there, his arms crossed, his face a mask of tension and confusion. Frank, standing nearby, looked just as concerned, though his expression was softer, more curious.

“Now explain,” Bill demanded, his voice cold and laced with suspicion. He wasn’t one for pleasantries, especially not when the situation was as strange as this.

Frank’s eyes darted between Joel and the stairs leading up to where you rested. “Joel, what’s going on? Who is she? And where the hell is Ellie?”

Joel could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him as Bill's sharp eyes bore into him. There was no easy way out of this conversation, no simple explanation that could make everything clear. He knew that Bill and Frank deserved answers, but the truth was a tangled mess in his mind, knotted up with the raw emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay.

“It’s…complicated,” Joel began again, his voice low and burdened with the gravity of what he was about to say. The words felt heavy, each one dragging him down as he struggled to find the right way to explain. “She needed help, Bill. She was in a bad situation, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion hardening his features. “And by ‘bad situation,’ what the hell do you mean?” His tone was cold, unyielding, as if he could freeze the truth out of Joel.

Joel knew that if he didn’t lay it all out, Bill would never trust him. He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do. “She’s… she’s been through hell,” Joel said slowly, trying to piece together a version of the truth that would make sense. “Her family… they weren’t good to her. I had to get her out of there."

"Now, hold on, who is she to you exactly?" Bill asked again, "She's...she's uh my neighbor, but she's under my care now," Joel answered.

Frank, who had been listening quietly, furrowed his brow in confusion. “What does that even mean, Joel? ‘Under your care?’ What are you trying to say?”

Joel felt his chest tighten, the words caught in his throat. How could he explain something so complex, something that even he was struggling to fully understand? “I saved her from her family,” he said, the words coming out more forcefully than he intended.

Bill’s expression shifted from suspicion to something darker, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You kidnapped her?!”

“No, it’s not like that,” Joel snapped, frustration bubbling over. I didn’t kidnap her. She wanted to leave, and I… I helped her.”

“It’s complicated. I… I care about her. We care about each other.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Frank’s eyes widened in shock, while Bill’s face twisted with disbelief. “What?” Frank whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

The room seemed to shrink as Joel stood under the weight of their incredulous stares. Frank’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the tension like a knife. “What do you mean?”

Joel felt like he was drowning, the pressure of the situation pressing down on him, suffocating him. His mind was a chaotic storm of guilt, desperation, and something else—something he didn’t want to name but couldn’t ignore. His thoughts twisted in on themselves, a tangled mess of emotions that left him reeling. The words felt like shards of glass in his throat, but he forced them out anyway, knowing he had to make them understand.

“I love her,” Joel said, his voice rough, strained. “I had to save her… I couldn’t just leave her in that hell.”

Bill’s face contorted with anger, his disbelief giving way to a rising fury. “The fuck do you mean, love her?! She’s a fucking kid, Joel! How old is she?!” His voice cracked with the force of his emotion, his mind struggling to wrap around what Joel was saying. “She looks barely older than Ellie!”

“She’s not a kid,” Joel snapped back, frustration and fear driving his words.

Frank’s expression darkened with a mix of disbelief and sorrow. “Joel, what have you done?” His voice was softer now, laden with a deep sense of concern.

“I had no choice,” Joel muttered, his voice tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I couldn’t see her like that anymore.”

Bill’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his voice rising. “So you kidnapped her from her family? Is that why you ran away?! Why the hell would you get involved in your neighbor’s business?”

Joel’s control snapped, the words tearing from him like a wound ripped open. “Because her father was fucking beating her!”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Joel’s confession hanging heavy in the air. Frank’s mouth opened, then closed, as he tried to process what he’d just heard. Bill’s fury faltered, replaced by a cold, steely determination.

Joel’s chest heaved as he stood there, his emotions laid bare for them to see. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt, how to make them understand the desperation, the fear that had driven him to this point. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you go back to that life, couldn’t let you suffer any longer.

“I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, she could have fucking die!” Joel said, his voice raw with emotion. “I couldn’t let her stay in that house, with that bastard… I had to get her out.”

Frank looked at Joel, his expression a mix of pity and resignation. “And what now, Joel? What do you plan to do?”

Joel’s voice trembled as he spoke, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him like a vise. “I don’t know… I just need time to figure it out.”

His desperation bled through each word, the facade of strength he’d always worn so carefully crumbling before their eyes. “J-just, just let us stay for a couple of days, till we—I—figure out what’s next.” His voice wavered, breaking under the strain. “She needs to heal, both mentally and physically. Please.”

It was a word Joel had never used lightly, a word that carried a weight of its own, something raw and vulnerable that neither Bill nor Frank had ever seen in him before. Joel had always been so cold, so unyielding—a fortress of a man who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But now, standing before them, he was exposed, fragile in a way that made Frank’s heart ache.

For a moment, the room was steeped in silence, thick with the tension of a decision that could not be undone. Frank’s gaze softened as he looked from Joel to Bill, who stood rigid, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Bill’s face was a storm of conflicted emotions—wariness, frustration, and a reluctance that spoke to his deep-seated aversion to complications.

“Bill,” Frank finally said, his voice gentle, almost pleading. “Let them stay. Just for a while.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he considered Frank’s words. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, and the thought of being dragged into a mess that wasn’t his own made his skin crawl. But there was something in Joel’s eyes, a fragility that tugged at the edges of his resolve, even if he didn’t fully understand it. He didn’t like this—any of it—but he also couldn’t bring himself to turn Joel away.

With a heavy sigh, Bill relented, though his voice remained gruff. “Fine. But only for a few days, and don’t bring any more trouble to my doorstep.”

Frank stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take as much time as you need,” he said softly. “We’ll help however we can.”

Joel nodded, the relief in his expression tempered by a lingering wariness. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice sincere but guarded.

Even in his gratitude, Joel couldn’t fully let his defenses down, couldn’t allow himself to believe that everything would be okay just yet. The path ahead was still dark, still uncertain, but at least, for now, he had a place to breathe.

Bill glanced up and down at Joel, his expression somewhere between exasperation and concern. “Jesus Christ, clean yourself up. You look like shit, Miller,” he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind. Without waiting for a response, Bill turned on his heel and headed towards his bedroom, leaving Joel standing in the dimly lit living room.

Frank lingered for a moment longer, his eyes soft with understanding. He disappeared into another room and returned with a small stack of clothes—worn but clean, likely Bill’s—handing them to Joel. “Here, these should fit. Go clean yourself up and get some rest."

Joel took the clothes with a nod of thanks, his eyes lingering on Frank’s face.

As Frank turned to leave, heading toward his bedroom, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at Joel. “I’m gonna get some sleep now. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, just knock our bedroom's door,"

Joel nodded again, the weight of the night pressing heavy on his shoulders. "Thanks, Frank,"

“Goodnight, Joel,” Frank said softly before disappearing down the hall.

"Goodnight,"

Joel stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the house settling around him like a blanket. He took a deep breath, clutching the clothes in his hand, then slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him, the faint sound of water running echoed through the small space. Finally alone, Joel allowed himself to let go, if only for a moment. He turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room, hoping the hot water could wash away not just the grime of the day, but the weight of everything that had happened.

After finishing his shower, Joel stepped quietly out of the bathroom, the steam still lingering in the air like a fading memory. His body ached, not just from the day’s events, but from the weight of decisions that had led him to this moment. The clothes Frank had given him felt strange against his skin—clean, unfamiliar—but they were a comfort, a small kindness in a world that had shown him little.

As he approached the guest bedroom, he hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. The soft sound of your breathing reached him, steady and rhythmic, a fragile reminder that you were still here, still with him. He opened the door slowly, careful not to let the light from the hallway spill in, and stepped inside.

There you were, curled up on the bed, lost in the depths of sleep. Joel’s heart ached at the sight of you, so small and vulnerable beneath the covers. The bruises on your face had darkened, a cruel testament to the hell you’d been through. The bandages on your arms and legs stood out starkly against your pale skin, a reminder of the pain you’d endured. It broke something deep within him to see you like this, so fragile and hurt, but at the same time, it steeled his resolve.

He had done this. He had brought you here, taken you from one life and thrust you into another. The consequences were unknown, whatever it took, he would keep you safe. You were his responsibility now, and he was okay with that—more than okay. You were worth every risk, every sleepless night, every lie he’d have to tell to keep you from harm.

Quietly, Joel made his way to the bed and carefully lay down beside you, trying not to disturb your sleep. But as soon as his weight settled onto the mattress, you stirred, your body instinctively shifting closer to him, seeking the comfort and safety that only he could provide.

“Joel…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with sleep and something deeper—an unspoken fear that clawed at your subconscious even now.

“I’m here, baby,” Joel whispered back, his voice tender, filled with a promise he would never break. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch as gentle as he could make it.

You sighed softly, your body relaxing as his words reached you, even in your half-dreaming state. “Please… don’t leave me,” you mumbled, your voice laced with a desperation that tugged at Joel’s heart.

“I won’t, sweetheart,” Joel assured you, his voice steady, though inside, he was anything but. “I'm not going anywhere, I’m here with you always."

You turned in your sleep, moving closer until your head rested against his chest, your arms wrapping around him as if to anchor yourself to the only solid thing in your world. Joel hesitated for a moment, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the trust you placed in him so absolute, it made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his own.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the faint scent of your hair, a mix of shampoo and something uniquely you. As he lay there, his mind swirled with thoughts of what had been, what could be, and what might come next. The future was a shadowed path, filled with dangers he couldn’t yet see, but none of it mattered if you were by his side.

Joel’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts growing heavy as he tried to make sense of it all. There was no turning back this time, no easy way out, but he found a strange peace in that. For so long, he had been adrift, lost in a world that had taken so much from him. But now, with you in his arms, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years—purpose.

He would protect you, no matter the cost. Whatever the world threw at them, he would be ready, because you were worth it. You were the one thing in his life that made sense, the one person he couldn’t afford to lose. And for you, he would face anything.

As sleep finally began to claim him, Joel held you a little tighter, the weight of the world pressing down on him, but somehow feeling lighter with you in his arms. Whatever came next, whatever battles they would face, he knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t alone anymore. And as long as you were with him, that was enough.

***

In the days that followed, the world around you seemed to move in slow motion. The pain from your injuries was still there, a dull ache that lingered beneath the surface, but it was the emotional wounds that cut the deepest. Every time you closed your eyes, you were haunted by memories—flashes of your father’s anger, of Jamie’s twisted smile. They came to you in dreams, turning peaceful sleep into a battlefield where you fought to escape their grasp.

During the day, the sun brought with it a semblance of normalcy. Bill and Frank’s house became a strange kind of sanctuary, a place where you could hide from the world, from the things that had chased you here. But even in this safety, there was an undercurrent of fear that you couldn’t shake. Guilt gnawed at you, especially when you thought of your mother, of how you had left her behind. You missed Emma and Ellie, their voices a distant echo in your mind, reminding you of what you had lost, of the life that had been taken from you.

Joel stayed close, never letting you out of his sight for too long. His protectiveness was a constant presence, a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume you. He bought you new clothes, little things to try and make this feel like home, though he never allowed you to leave the house. It was as if he was building a wall around you, a fortress where nothing could hurt you again. But in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of you, you could see the cracks in his armor. He was struggling too, his thoughts often drifting to Ellie, to the life he had left behind to save you.

Joel had bought a new burner phone, a cheap, untraceable device that he used to contact Tommy. He couldn’t risk calling Ellie, not with the possibility that your father might report him. Every time he picked up the phone, you could see the conflict in his eyes, the weight of the choices he had made pressing down on him. He would sit in silence for hours, lost in his thoughts, his brow furrowed with worry. You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood why he had done what he did, but the words never seemed to come out right.

At night, the nightmares were the worst. They came without warning, dragging you back to the terror of what had happened. You would wake up screaming, your heart pounding in your chest, the taste of fear thick in your throat. And every time, Joel was there, pulling you into his arms, whispering soft reassurances as he held you close. But even as he comforted you, you could feel him breaking, the weight of your pain becoming too much for him to bear. His voice would crack, his grip tightening as if he could keep the nightmares at bay just by holding you.

Frank had become a quiet presence in your life, always there with a kind word or a gentle smile. He helped you a lot, especially on the days when the world felt too heavy. He would sit with you in the kitchen, guiding your hands as you helped him cook, his voice soft and steady as he talked about anything and everything. There was a warmth to him, a kindness that made you feel safe, like you could tell him anything and he would understand.

As you stood at the counter chopping vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife meeting the cutting board filled the kitchen, a small comfort in the routine. Frank glanced over at you, his expression warm but thoughtful, clearly gauging how you were holding up after everything.

"How are you feeling, kid?" he asked, his voice gentle, carrying a note of genuine concern.

You paused for a moment, considering the question. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions—fear, relief, guilt—but here, in the quiet safety of Bill and Frank’s home, you were starting to feel a semblance of normalcy. You turned to Frank with a small smile, nodding. “I’m good,” you replied softly, though the words carried more weight than they seemed.

Frank returned your smile, sensing that there was more beneath the surface. “That’s good to hear,” he said, his tone encouraging.

Taking a breath, you decided to open up a bit more. "I really appreciate everything you and Bill have done for us," you began, your eyes meeting his as you spoke earnestly. "Letting us stay here, helping us get back on our feet… I know it’s not easy having strangers around, and I just want you to know how grateful I am. You didn’t have to do any of this."

Frank’s expression softened, and he shook his head dismissively, though the kindness in his eyes remained. “Ah, it’s nothing. Joel’s a good friend of ours, and now you are too. We look out for our own, you know?” He paused, then added with a light chuckle, “And besides, we could use the company. Bill and I don’t get many visitors these days.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread in your chest. “Thank you, Frank."

Frank waved a hand, as if brushing off the praise. “Hey, friends help friends. That’s just how it works, right?”

You nodded, your smile lingering as you turned back to the vegetables. The ease with which Frank treated you, the way he made you feel welcome, was a balm to your frayed nerves. Despite everything that had happened, there was a sense of belonging beginning to take root here.

As the conversation naturally lulled, Frank’s gaze drifted to the small cross hanging around your neck.

His curiosity piqued, and he smiled warmly, attempting to lighten the mood with a bit of banter. “You’re a believer, I see?” he said, nodding towards the necklace. “Maybe that’s why you’ve got this positive aura around you.”

You chuckled softly, fingers instinctively reaching up to touch the cross. “Yeah, I am,” you replied, the weight of the necklace familiar and comforting against your skin. “Grew up very religious.”

Frank, still focused on chopping vegetables, glanced at you with a curious smile. “Are you a believer?” you asked, genuinely interested in his story.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No, I left God a long time ago. My parents were deeply religious, though. Strong believers, the kind who thought they had everything figured out until their son turned out to be… well, me. One day they decided to just threw me away like that,"

You felt a pang of empathy and glanced at Frank, seeing a flicker of old pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you said gently.

Frank smiled, though there was a trace of bitterness in it. “No, no, it’s alright. Look at me now—I’m doing just fine, aren’t I?” He chuckled, but the words carried a deeper meaning. “Besides, I’d rather be alone and true to myself than pretend to be someone else just to make others happy.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, echoing the thoughts you’d harbored for years. You had always felt trapped, suffocated by the expectations and strictures imposed by your parents, especially your father. Living under their roof had felt like being in a cage—your every breath measured, your every step scrutinized. The cross around your neck suddenly felt heavier, not because of its physical weight, but because of the symbolic burden it carried, a reminder of all the years you spent trying to conform to a version of yourself that wasn’t truly you.

Your mind drifted, the kitchen around you fading as Frank’s words swirled in your thoughts. The yearning for freedom, the desperate need to escape the confines of your old life, had been a constant in your heart for so long.

Frank’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing you back to the present. “Until I met Bill,” he continued, his tone softening with affection. “I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. You had found that with Joel too—someone who didn’t just let you be free but walked alongside you in that freedom, making sure you never felt alone in it. With Joel, the darkness of your past didn’t feel so overwhelming, and the future, once so uncertain, now held the possibility of hope. He had become your anchor, the person who reminded you that you didn’t have to carry the burden of your past by yourself.

He had given you the space to breathe, to be yourself without judgment, without the crushing pressure to be someone you weren’t. With Joel, you could finally exhale, no longer suffocating under the weight of expectations.

“How long have you and Bill been together?” you asked, genuinely curious about the life they had built together.

Frank’s face lit up with a soft, contented smile. “Oh, it’s been about ten years now,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Wow, that’s a long time,” you said, admiration clear in your tone.

“Yeah, it is,” Frank agreed. “We’ve had our ups and downs, like any couple, but… well, there’s no one else I’d rather spend my life with. He’s my home.”

The simplicity and truth in his words touched you deeply. You couldn’t help but think of Joel again, wondering if one day you could find that same sense of home with him—a place where you could finally rest, where the wounds of the past could slowly heal, and where the future, no matter how uncertain, didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

***

The night was still, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, almost suffocating, as Joel sat on the front porch, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The faint glow of the ember was the only light in the darkness, aside from the occasional flicker of the beer bottle as he lifted it to his lips. He took a long drag, the smoke curling up into the night air, blending into the shadows that seemed to wrap around him. The weight of the last few days pressed down on his shoulders, the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawing at him.

Three days. It had been three days since he and you arrived at Bill and Frank’s, and every second felt like the ticking of a clock running out of time. He hadn’t heard from Tommy since that last conversation, where his brother had warned him that your father had gone to the sheriff, reporting you as kidnapped. Joel’s grip tightened around the bottle at the thought. Kidnapping. The word felt like a noose tightening around his neck. He hadn’t taken you; he’d saved you. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But with the sheriff and the police now involved, the danger was creeping closer, and he knew they couldn’t stay hidden forever.

They had to keep moving. It was the only way to survive. The thought of staying in one place too long made Joel’s skin crawl. The longer they stayed, the more likely it was that someone would come looking for them. And then there was the fear, gnawing at the edges of his mind, about what would happen if you found out about Jamie Lee and Pastor Ben. The memories of that night haunted him, the blood, the desperation, the cold finality of what he had done. What would you think of him if you knew? Would you still see him as your protector, or would that look in your eyes change?

Joel took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke burning his lungs as the thoughts churned in his head. The idea of settling down somewhere new was tempting, but where could they go that would be safe? Where could they build a life that didn’t feel like they were running every second of every day? He knew he had to talk to you, to figure out what you wanted, but the thought of that conversation made his chest tighten. He didn’t want to burden you with more decisions, not when you were still healing, but they couldn’t keep living in limbo. They had to make a choice, and soon.

He crushed the cigarette beneath his boot and drained the last of his beer, the bitterness of it lingering on his tongue as he stood up. The house behind him was quiet, save for the faint sounds of Bill and Frank finishing up the dishes. Joel took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do next. He needed to check on you, to see if you were ready to have that conversation. But as he walked through the door and made his way down the hall, he stopped short at the sight of you.

You were on your knees, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a halo around you as you prayed. Joel’s heart twisted at the sight, a mixture of emotions crashing over him. Guilt, fear, love—all of it tangled together, choking him. He watched you for a moment, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting to break the fragile peace you seemed to find in those moments.

As you knelt there, your hands clasped tightly together, your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, swirling like a storm inside you. The familiar comfort of prayer was the only anchor you had left in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control. You whispered the words you had been taught since childhood, the prayers that had been your solace through so many dark times. But tonight, those prayers felt different, heavy with the weight of everything you’d been through.

You prayed for your mother, for the safety of the family you had left behind. You prayed for Emma, for Ellie, hoping they were okay, hoping they didn’t blame you for leaving. But most of all, you prayed for strength, for the courage to face whatever came next. The fear that had been your constant companion these last few days was a shadow that you couldn’t escape, creeping into your thoughts, into your dreams. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father’s face, heard Jamie’s voice. It haunted you, a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. And yet, as long as Joel was with you, you felt a glimmer of hope, a small light in the darkness. He was your protector, your shield against the world, and the thought of losing that safety terrified you more than anything else.

You prayed for Joel too, for the man who had risked everything to keep you safe. You knew he was struggling, that the weight of everything was pressing down on him just as much as it was on you. You could see it in the lines of his face, in the way he was always on edge, always watching, always worrying. You prayed that he would find peace, that he wouldn’t be consumed by the guilt that you could see lurking in his eyes, even if he tried to hide it from you. You prayed that he wouldn’t have to carry this burden alone, that together, you could find a way to move forward, to build a life that wasn’t just about surviving but about living.

When you finally finished, you sat back on your heels, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady your racing heart. You hadn’t heard Joel come in, but when you looked up, you saw him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

Joel stepped into the room, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as he approached you. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “You didn’t."

You were wearing a soft, flowing white nightgown that brushed against your skin like a whisper, your hair now loose, cascading over your shoulders in waves. It was a small comfort, something familiar in a world that had become so unpredictable. As you prepared the bed, fluffing the pillows and smoothing out the covers, Joel moved with quiet efficiency, closing the door behind him before he began to undress.

He pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling with the motion, and you couldn’t help but watch him, your eyes tracing the lines of his body. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, each action deliberate and controlled, a testament to the strength that had kept you both alive this far.

But beneath that strength, you saw the weight he carried—the burden of the choices he had made, the lives he had taken to protect you. It tugged at your heart, a pang of guilt that you couldn’t quite shake. This was your fault, after all. Joel had left everything behind for you, risked everything, and now, he was bearing the consequences of that choice.

He slipped into a clean shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants, his movements efficient but unhurried, as if he was trying to prolong the moment before he had to speak. You watched him with a mixture of love and sorrow, the emotions swirling inside you like a storm.

Joel was your anchor, the one constant in a world that had been turned upside down. But at what cost? The thought haunted you as you climbed into bed, your eyes still following him as he finished dressing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence, thick with concern.

“Couldn’t be better,” you replied, though the words felt like a half-truth. Physically, you were healing, but the wounds that ran deeper, the ones that cut into your soul, those were far from mended. You had been thinking about that, about what came next, and as Joel continued to speak, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.

“I’ve been thinking,” Joel began, his tone more serious now as he turned to face you. You watched him, your heart clenching as he spoke, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that whatever he was about to say was weighing heavily on him.

You patted the bed next to you, inviting him to sit, to share the burden that had settled between you. Joel hesitated for a moment before crossing the room, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he lay down next to you. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even as the gravity of the situation pressed down on you both.

“We can’t stay here long,” Joel said, his voice firm, though there was a tremor beneath the surface that betrayed his worry. “I spoke to Tommy a couple of days ago… about your dad. He told me that he’s reported me to the sheriff, said I kidnapped you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You had known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it feel all the more real. The sheriff, the police—it was only a matter of time before they came looking, before they started asking questions that neither of you could afford to answer.

“Tommy told me not to contact him,” Joel continued, his voice tightening with frustration. “He said he’d reach out to me if there’s any news, but until then… we’re on our own. For our safety, we’ve got to keep moving. But I need to know if you’re ready. I don't want to push you,"

You could hear the unspoken question in his words—whether you were strong enough to keep going, whether you could survive what came next. But there was something else, too, a flicker of doubt in his eyes that made your heart ache. He was worried about you, yes, but he was also afraid of what might happen if you weren’t ready. Afraid of what it would mean if you couldn’t keep going.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. His skin was rough, calloused from years of hard work, but his touch was gentle, grounding you in this moment. Joel leaned into your touch, his heart warming as if it found a safe harbor in your presence. His lips curled into a small, genuine smile, one that softened the hard edges of his face.

“Well,” Joel began, his voice low and steady, “we might have a long trip ahead of us.” He paused, looking into your eyes as if searching for any sign of hesitation. “Where do you want to go?”

For a moment, you were lost in thought, the possibilities stretching out before you like an open road. This was the moment you had always dreamed of—the chance to finally leave behind the small town that had suffocated you for so long. Excitement sparked within you, a flicker of hope that began to burn brighter with each passing second. “What about California?” you suggested, your voice filled with a newfound enthusiasm. “We don’t have to live in Los Angeles… we could settle in a small town, like Davis? Some quiet place, you know?”

Joel considered your words, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wherever you want us to go,” he said, his tone sincere. “I don’t care, as long as you’re with me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a sincere smile spreading across your face. The love you felt for him in that moment was overwhelming, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Joel’s expression softened as he watched you, as if he could feel the shift in the air between you.

A thought seemed to cross Joel’s mind, and his eyes lit up with a new idea. “Since you’ve never been anywhere outside,” he began, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice, “how about we take a trip? A real one. We could go to every state in the USA, see everything there is to see. And then, when we’re ready, we can settle down in Davis, or wherever you want.”

His words hung in the air, the idea taking shape in your mind. A trip across the country, just the two of you, exploring the world together—it felt like a dream. You could almost see it, the endless highways, the changing landscapes, the freedom that came with each new place. The thought of it filled you with a sense of adventure, a spark of life that you hadn’t felt in so long.

“You really mean it?” you asked, your voice filled with awe. “You’ll take me on that trip?”

“Why not?” Joel replied, his smile widening. “We’ve got time for ourselves now. No rush, no place we have to be. We can just… live. Just you and me now, doll.”

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours, the strength in his arms as he held you close—it was everything you needed, everything you had been longing for. You pressed a kiss to his lips, a soft, grateful gesture. “Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice trembling with emotion.

But as the excitement faded, reality began to creep back in, and with it, the weight of guilt that had been gnawing at you for days. This was all because of you. Joel had left his life behind—left Ellie, Tommy, his family, left everything he knew—because of you. You had dragged him into this mess, turned him into a fugitive. The thought of it made your chest tighten with regret.

“I’m so sorry,” you said suddenly, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “This is all my fault. You left everything behind because of me. Your life… Ellie… I ruined everything.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion, his hands tightening around you as if to keep you grounded. “Hey, what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t your fault. I wanted this, I chose this.”

“But—”

“No, listen to me,” Joel interrupted, his tone more insistent now. “I made the choice to leave, to take you with me. I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone. You didn’t drag me into anything. I’m here because I want to be. Because I love you.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the doubts and fears that had been building inside you. Joel’s eyes were filled with a fierce determination, a resolve that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t going to let you carry this burden alone, wasn’t going to let you blame yourself for the choices he had made.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Joel continued, his voice softening as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re in this together, okay? I’m right where I want to be. With you.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the ache in your heart. The guilt that had been suffocating you began to loosen its grip, replaced by a deep sense of relief. Joel had made his choice, just as you had made yours. And together, you would face whatever came next.

As you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter where the road took you, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would find a way through it. With Joel by your side, you felt like you could take on the world. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t seem so terrifying. It felt like a promise—one that you and Joel would keep, together.

"I love you too, Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything those words held. His gaze softened, and before you could say anything more, Joel leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, a gentle affirmation of the bond you shared. You melted into him, your bodies pressing together as you held each other close in the quiet cocoon of the room.

The kiss deepened, but it wasn’t rushed. It was as if time had slowed, allowing you to savor the moment—the warmth of his mouth, the way his hand cupped the back of your head, drawing you closer. There was something pure in that kiss, something that spoke of more than just desire. It was love, yes, but also relief, gratitude, and an unspoken promise that you would stand by each other, no matter what came next.

As you embraced, the sound of a song drifted up from downstairs, carried on the quiet air of the night. The familiar notes of “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” by Willie and Paula Nelson filled the room, and you couldn’t help but smile as you recognized the voices of Bill and Frank in the distance.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Frank, not this song again,” Bill’s gruff voice grumbled, the sound slightly muffled but still clear.

Frank’s reply was lighthearted, tinged with affection. “Once in a while, Bill, we need something besides Linda Ronstadt. I need something new.”

“But Linda is so good,” Bill protested, the hint of a smile in his tone. “You know that. It was our song.”

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Joel’s chest as you lay wrapped in each other’s arms. “They’re an interesting couple,” you murmured, looking up at Joel with a playful glint in your eye.

Joel’s lips quirked into a small smile as he listened to the banter from downstairs. “Frank’s nice enough,” he said, but you noticed he hadn’t mentioned Bill. There was a slight hesitation in his voice, a subtle tension that you could feel through the way his body stiffened ever so slightly.

You knew that Joel and Bill had a complicated relationship, one marked by an undercurrent of mutual respect mixed with a kind of wariness that neither of them could fully shake. Bill was a man who valued his solitude, fiercely protective of his territory and his way of life. He and Joel shared a similar toughness, a survival instinct honed by years of hardship, but their similarities also made them clash. Bill’s brusque nature, his guarded demeanor—it all rubbed up against Joel’s own rough edges, creating an awkward, sometimes strained dynamic between them.

They weren’t exactly friends in the traditional sense, but they weren’t enemies either. It was more like they understood each other on a level that didn’t require words—a kind of silent agreement to coexist, to respect the other’s boundaries, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.

“Joel…”

“What?”

“They’re good people, Joel. Frank and Bill. They took us in when they didn’t have to. They gave us a place to stay till we figure it out,"

Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Yeah, they did, I guess Bill's not that bad,” he admitted making you chuckle a little.

There was an unspoken acknowledgment between you—a recognition of the small sanctuary you had found in Bill and Frank’s home, however temporary it might be. And despite the rough edges, despite the unspoken tensions, you knew that Joel was grateful in his own way for the refuge they had provided.

You reached up, cupping his cheek as you pulled him in for another kiss, this one more urgent, more passionate. It was as if the song playing downstairs had ignited something in you—a deep, burning need that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. The kiss grew more intense, and as your lips moved against his, you could feel the unspoken desire that had been building between you for days.

Joel responded in kind, his hands moving to hold you closer, his touch becoming more insistent. There was no hesitation now, no more holding back. It was just the two of you, finally able to be together without fear or guilt. The world outside could wait; this moment was yours.

You guided him to be on the top of you, your bodies entwined as the song played on in the background. The melody seemed to echo the rhythm of your hearts, each beat syncing with the other as you moved together. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, the quiet sighs of pleasure as you lost yourselves in each other.

Joel’s hands roamed over your body, gentle but with a certain urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Every touch sent a shiver down your spine, every kiss ignited a fire within you. It was sweet, yes, but also passionate—like two souls finally finding their way back to each other after being lost for so long.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and you arched into him, craving more of his touch. The heat of his skin pressed against yours, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, echoing in time with your own. It was a rhythm that spoke of love, of need, of the deep connection that bound you together—one that had weathered storms and now found solace in the quiet moments like this.

Joel’s hands slid down your sides, fingers brushing the delicate fabric of your white nightgown. Slowly, he lifted it over your head, the soft material grazing your skin as it fell away. His gaze never left yours, a silent reverence in the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as he undid the last of his clothing, baring himself to you. The weight of his words settled into your heart, grounding you in the moment as he moved closer, his body warm and familiar against yours. When he positioned himself between your thighs, the anticipation hummed between you, a charged electricity that made every nerve in your body come alive.

As Joel entered you, slowly and tenderly, a soft moan escaped your lips. He moved with deliberate care, every thrust measured, as if savoring every second of being with you. His pace was slow, each movement a testament to the depth of his love, the gentleness of his touch weaving a tapestry of passion and tenderness that enveloped you both.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, fitting together as though they were made for each other. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in this moment of pure connection. There were no more secrets, no more hiding in the shadows. For the first time, you could be together completely, without fear or shame. It was as if the walls around your hearts had finally crumbled, allowing you to love each other fully, freely.

As you moaned softly, feeling the sweet friction within yours, the intensity of your connection deepened with every passing moment. Joel’s movements were unhurried, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through you, building slowly but steadily. His breath was hot against your ear, his low growls of pleasure resonating through your body, making you shiver with anticipation.

“Joel…” you moan, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and love. His name on your lips felt like a prayer, a plea for this moment to never end, for the world to stay suspended in this perfect stillness where only the two of you existed.

Joel responded with a soft grunt, his hips pressing deeper, finding a rhythm that had you arching into him, your body reacting to his every move. He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a reverence that made your heart ache. In this moment, you were his entire world, and he was yours.

The slow, deliberate pace allowed every sensation to intensify—the way his skin brushed against yours, the way his hands roamed your body as if memorizing every curve, the way his gaze never wavered from yours, grounding you in the here and now. Every touch, every movement was a reminder that you were safe, cherished, and loved.

As Joel continued to move within you, the tension began to build, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his skin. You were completely lost in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance.

And then, as if sensing you were on the edge, Joel leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his lips moving softly against yours. The kiss was filled with all the emotions that words could never fully convey—his love, his desire, his unwavering commitment to you.

With a final, deep thrust, the tension within you snapped, and you came undone in his arms, your body trembling with the force of your release. Joel followed soon after, his own release a shuddering, overwhelming wave of pleasure that left you both breathless.

For a moment, the world stood still. You lay there in each other’s arms, your bodies entwined, hearts beating as one. The outside world, with all its dangers and uncertainties, felt miles away. Here, in this quiet space, there was only love—a love that had weathered every storm, a love that had brought moment of peace and completeness.

As your breathing slowed, you nestled closer to Joel, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as if he could shield you from the world outside, from all the darkness and danger that still lingered just beyond the walls of this room.

The song playing softly in the background, "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?", blended with the lingering hum of your emotions. The lyrics, the melody, all seemed to echo the storm you had weathered together—the downpours, the relentless winds, and finally, the calm after the storm. It was a moment of serenity that you both craved, a small piece of normalcy in a world that had been anything but.

You shifted slightly to look up at Joel, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I never thought I’d feel this way,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

Joel’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “Me neither,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m glad I do. I’m glad it’s with you.”

His words filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being, a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in so long. Here, in his arms, you felt like you had finally found your home, not in a place, but in a person. In Joel.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.

Joel’s lips curved into a soft smile, one that reached his eyes, lighting them up in a way that made your heart swell. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice filled with the same intensity of feeling that you held in your heart.

He pulled you closer, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. And in that embrace, you felt the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in a love that was as deep and as vast as the ocean.

As you drifted off to sleep in Joel’s arms, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together. No matter the challenges, no matter the obstacles, you had each other. And that was enough. More than enough.