#all within 50 pulls

[friendsinsolitude]

never in my life have i said ‘wow i could really go for a tsukasa card right about now’ and yet here he fucking is. 10 tsukasa 4 stars across jp and en. that’s more than mizuki with 9. the girl i’ve been intentionally pulling for since day one a little more than exactly three years ago. i wish i could give him awayyyyy stop haunting meeeeee

[daz4i]

FINALLY 😭😭😭😭😭

[sandy-shocks]

Yippee

[joelsdagger]

that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs!!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night. 

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again. 

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?” 

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad. 

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you. 

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence. 

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend. 

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover. 

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. 

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip. 

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it. 

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it. 

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice. 

You need something new, something fresh, babe. 

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person. 

Trust me, it’ll be good for you. 

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind. 

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months. 

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes. 

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome. 

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember. 

Fuck. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.  

 And oh. 

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new. 

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring. 

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else. 

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.  

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.  

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires. 

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.” 

Confusion floods his features. 

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips. 

“She cheated on you,” you retort. 

“How did–” 

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.” 

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip. 

 “Hey, you raised him,” you joke. 

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug. 

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. 

“What?” you ask. 

 “Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

 You look at him pointedly. 

 “Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little. 

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.” 

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch. 

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” 

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?” 

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify. 

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering. 

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks. 

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?” 

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them. 

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him. 

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again. 

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar. 

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease. 

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp. 

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom. 

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning. 

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate. 

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined. 

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.” 

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?” 

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words. 

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear. 

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so. 

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him. 

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness. 

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.  

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out. 

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk. 

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” 

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror. 

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be. 

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn. 

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it. 

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats. 

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites. 

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard. 

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him. 

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases. 

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic. 

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh. 

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will. 

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot. 

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?” 

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly. 

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’  – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard. 

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.” 

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought. 

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock. 

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.” 

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?” 

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper. 

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release. 

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you. 

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him. 

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you. 

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you. 

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls. 

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip. 

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin. 

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror. 

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands. 

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock. 

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you. 

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.” 

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy. 

And then it hits you. 

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with? 

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one. 

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly. 

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters. 

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya. 

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth. 

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things  — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth. 

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more. 

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.” 

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. 

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give. 

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks. 

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you. 

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.” 

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out. 

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t. 

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you. 

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting. 

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun. 

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number. 

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo. 

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine. 

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong. 

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home. 

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel. 

He’s already watching you. 

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid. 

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash. 

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

[mari-positas]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ CAM GIRL #2! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...a continuation of my loser!choso series

INFO...loser!choso x camgirl!reader, fucking yourself on camera, use of toys, masturbation, video call sex, squirting, praise, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, voyeurism, fingering, overstim, multiple orgasms, not proofread

WC...3.4k

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

read part 1 here

Another long and grueling day at work has choso rushing home once again to his laptop in hopes to find you streaming. Just thinking about it already had his dick throbbing against his khakis. Choso couldn’t get it out of his head, the last time he watched you, you invited him to a private chat. It’d be any mans dream to talk to you, especially alone. But, his nerves got the better of him and he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t know what to say, or do, how would the conversation even go?

Choso threw his bag down on the floor, sighing when he sat down on the couch, his laptop waiting for him on the coffee table. As he opened it, your streaming site was already up and lucky for him you were live. Excitement bubbled in his chest, one hand fumbling with his belt buckle while the other clicked on your stream. His dick was already leaking precum, swollen red tip pulsating as he slowly stroked himself.

He licked his lips, biting down on his bottom one, eyes scanning over the screen, volume all the way up. You were propped in your computer chair, legs spread open, slowly fucking yourself with a pink dildo. It seems like you just got started, even more perfect. He intently watched the way your pussy sucked the toy in, following your pace as he imagined, like all the times before, that it was him inside of you. “F-fuck,” he whispered. Just thinking about it made the blood rush straight to his dick.

His eyes perked up at the sound of your whimpers, a bright smile spreading across your face. Your free hand played with your tits, pulling at your perky nipples, twisting them between your fingers. “Mmph, feels so good,” you giggle, looking into the camera. “Shit,” you gasp, the head of the toy pressing up against your g-spot, dragging along your walls. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, your movements starting to pick up in pace, fucking yourself harder and faster.

Choso knew he needed to grab your attention again. He knew you never read the chat, but you always responded to donations. He would know. With his card already linked, he was quick to send you a $50 donation. He waited patiently until it came through, his name popping up on screen.

“Choso, t-thank you—ah, fuck—for the $50. Still owe me a chat, sweetheart.” You smile at the camera and his heart drops, his cheeks burn, and he feels like he could cum on the spot. He’s immediately sends another donation with a response.

chosoxxx sent $50: after your stream, promise

“Y-you better hold to your—nngh—promise!” Your brows furrow in pleasure, the lewd squelches of your pussy coming through his laptop speakers. Your free reaches down to your neglected clit, rubbing it in circles. “Fuckkkk!” You cry out, toes curling when you purposefully slam into your sweet spot over and over.

“You’re close aren’t you, baby?” Choso mumbles under his breath. He knows you like the back of his hand. He can’t tell with the way your toes point and your, the way your eyes roll back and you can’t stop saying every curse word known to man, that you’re gonna cum. He clenches his jaw, fisting his cock at your pace, squeezing harder each time he reaches the tip. “Come on, baby. I know you’re right there,” he’s pants heavily.

Your head feels like it’s spinning, your sloppy cunt dripping all over your new chair, and you feel that familiar pressure in your low abdomen. “Oh my god!” You toss your head back, putting more pressure on your throbbing clit. “Yes, yes, yes!” You mewl, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “F-fuck, fuck!” Your legs began to quiver, low eyes watching how to the dildo disappears in and out of you with each thrust. Within seconds, clear liquid spurts from your pussy in waves, gushing all over your thighs, dripping onto the floor. “Nnngh! Yessss! Ah!” You scream, eyes screwed shut as your entire body shakes.

“Good girl, just what I needed—fuck!” He grunts, thick globs of cum flow from his swollen tip. Choso hears the chimes of donations pouring through, the chat going a million miles per hour as they beg you to squirt again, to keep fucking yourself.

A lazy spreads across your lips and you slide the dildo out of your cunt. “I’m sorry, but it’s gonna be a short stream today.” You pout. “But thank you for joining me and thank you for the donations. I hope you all had fun like I did!” You blow a kiss to the camera and smile before ending the stream. Choso sits there with his dick still in his hand and the thought falls upon him. He promised to message you. You want him to message you.

He can’t stop replaying it in his head. The way you said his name, the way you said he owed you a chat. Without thinking, he clicks on your profile, staring at the message button for a few seconds, his finger hovering over the mouse. He clicks on it. The blank messaging screen pops up and he can see you were last live two minutes ago. His eyes narrow, looking down at his keyboard before typing a simple hi and sending it.

Now, he waits. Seconds start to feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. He just stares at the screen waiting for a speech bubble to pop up with a response to his message. And as if the gods have heard his prayers, you write him back. His smile spreads ear to ear.

lovelyyn: hi choso! You kept your promise

chosoxxx: told you I would

lovelyyn: good, I couldn’t wait to talk to you. Thank you for all the donations from my last stream and the ones from today. As a special offer…would you live to do a private video chat?

His eyes widen upon reading your question. Is he dreaming right now? Talking to you one on one? Just to see you and hear your voice—his cock is already hard again.

chosoxxx: I would love to

Your profile picture displayed on his screen, his breathing ragged as he answered the call. His mouth felt dry, throat closed, all while profusely sweating. “Hiii, Choso!” You cutely giggled, waving at the camera. You were no longer in your streaming room and you had already changed your clothes.

“H-hi,” he awkwardly chuckled, waving back. “It’s nice to finally talk with you.”

“Likewise.” You placed your head in your hand, leaning against it. “You’re a lot different from what I expected. In a good way.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” he awkwardly laughed.

“I’m saying you’re cute,” you blurted out, chewing on your bottom lip. Choso couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t know if you were just trying to butter him up or actually telling the truth. Either way, he was living for it. It made his dick jump whenever you smiled or stared at him through the camera. “You have a really nice voice too,” you added.

“Yeah?” He questioned, adjusting in his seat.

“Mhm.” You nodded. You weren’t sure if he could tell, but in the back of your mind you were thinking about him, and you’ve been thinking about him since he donated tons of money. Of course you thought about all the nasty things, wanting him to fuck you, use you, maybe even stream it so people can really watch you lose your mind and see how much of a whore you really are.

Your hand creeped down to your silk panties, slipping your fingers under them, sneakily rubbing your clit while you listened to him talk, watching the way his mouth moved, wondering what it would feel like on your pussy. Poor Choso was obviously lost to the situation, stumbling over his words, nerves bundled within him. “Choso, do you watch my streams often?” You outright asked.

He looked like a deer in headlight, eyes wide, avoiding your gaze. “Um, I don’t…I mean I do, but not—” Your sweet giggles filled his ears and he looked at you, letting out an airy, awkward chuckle.

“You watch me all the time, don’t you?” Just the thought of it made your cunt grow wetter, your fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. “It’s okay, you can say it. I like knowing you’re watching me,” you whimper. It was getting hard to hold back your moans.

“I do…I do,” he barely says above a whisper. You adjust your computer on the bed, pushing it farther back, showing Choso exactly what you were doing. It felt like the air was sucked out of his lungs, he couldn’t look away from you, or your pretty pussy that you were so greedily rubbing. Did he make you do that? His cock throbbed, twitching just from watching you touch yourself. “What…what are you doing?” He stupidly asked, mentally cursing at himself.

A blissful sigh escapes your lips, kicking your panties off to fully expose yourself to him. “Touch yourself with me,” you sinfully say, staring right at him. Choso gulps, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, a low grunt leaving his throat. “I wanna see. Show me,” you say in a pleading tone. Choso moves his laptop onto the coffee table, getting the perfect view of him manspreading on the couch, his thick, veiny dick throbbing in his hand. His shirt is somewhere discarded on his living room floor, the sweat from his abs reflecting off of the light.

And you like what you see, smiling like a kid in a candy store because you can’t believe a guy like him watches you all the time, spends his money on you. How doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Or does he? “H-hey, Choso, you’re single, right?” You brows furrow, biting the inside of cheek while you still toy with your clit.

“Never—nngh—had a…girlfriend,” he breathed heavily, jaw going slack when he twists his wrist in circular motions. Upon hearing his words, you couldn’t be more delighted. He such a loser, but he’s a hot one with a big dick. Lucky you. “You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he whimpers, low eyes locked onto your dripping cunt. “Put two fingers in for me.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, spreading your legs further as you slowly dip two fingers into your aching cunt, imagining it was him filling you up and stretching you out. He watches your head fall back when you piston your finger in and out, hitting deep in the back of your pussy with each thrust. “Can you hear how needy I am, Cho?” You mewl, batting your pretty eyelashes at him.

The nickname you suddenly call him goes straight to his dick. He pumps his cock at your pace, and he can’t help but think of the many times he’s thought about this exact moment. One on one with you, no one else to interfere. “Yeah, give her what she wants, baby,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Mmph, fuck! I want you…want you inside me,” you moan, your face twisting in pleasure, going harder and faster. Your hand reaches up to your chest, squeezing your breast, twisting your hard nipple between your fingers. “Your cock looks so good.” A lazy smile spread across your lips, licking them when you think about him fucking your face, making a sloppy mess of you. “Oh my god!”

Choso selfishly wraps two hands around his cock, pumping fast, smearing his precum along his length, pretending it’s your juices that he’s fucking himself with. “You want me? Oh, I want you too, pretty girl. F-fuck—been wanting you for so…fucking…long,” his voice breaks with each word, cracking from pleasure. His hips buck up into his hands, eyes rolling back. “Come on, baby, I need to see you squirt. Please, please, please,” he begs.

You can feel the pressure build up in abdomen, your pussy tightening around your fingers as you grow closer and closer to squirting. Your toes point, legs shaking when you feel the overwhelming amount of pleasure consume your body. “You like watching me squirt, huh?” Your sultry tone and expression sends a chill down his spine.

“You make a mess just gets me so…fucking hard.” He sucks in a breath, his hips squirming. “I know you’re close, pretty girl, I know…ah, yes—fuck—I know,” he whimpers, trying his hardest not to cum just yet. And as if on cue, your pussy is gushing all over your fingers and your bed sheets. “Yes, yes, let it all out. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cry, your fist clenching into a ball, grabbing onto the sheets below you. “Oh my god!” You scream, your entire body quivers with what feels like every last bit of you. You lift your head just in time to watch Choso cum, thick white ropes shooting from his swollen tip. His abs tense up, hips jolting with every drag of his hands.

“Y-yes, yes,” his voice wavers, eyes closed shut as he basks in the bliss of his orgasm. “I can’t…I can’t stop,” he whimpers. “Shit, I just need to keep cumming for you, baby.” His breathing is ragged. And despite how sensitive he is, his dick is still pulsating, and his balls are still heavy with cum. “Need to fuck that pussy so badly,” he whines, staring at the camera with low eyes.

Quickly, you grab your dildo from your nightstand drawer, pushing the silicone head past your soaked folds. It slips in with ease and it makes you feel so much more fuller, the stretch making you wince, but you don’t mind. You’re too busy thinking about cumming, too busy wondering what he’d feel like inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum. You’re fucking yourself deep, hitting that sweet spot that makes you drool and turns you stupid. “Ah, fuck!” You screw your shut. “Feels so fucking good!” You’ve never been so turned on before watching someone else cum, especially cumming to you.

The squelching of your pussy is like music to his ears and he’s so fixated on the way your pretty pussy takes the dildo. “You take it so good. Mhm, yeah,” he nods. “You like watching it slide in and out of that pussy, don’t you?” A smirk curves at the corner of his lips. “I do too,” he whispers. “Go faster for me, baby,” he orders.

You listen, both hands grabbing the base of your toy and pushing it into your poor pussy harder and faster. “Oh, I’m gonna cum again, gonna cum…fuck, Cho! Baby! Nnghh ahhh!” Your eyes widen when clear liquid spurts from your pussy, pushing the dildo out. You reach for your clit, rubbing it harshly as more of your juices cascade down your puffy lips. You slap your pussy a few times, giggling at the mess.

“Look at that,” he sobs, fisting his cock. “Keep going, keep going.” His jaw clenches. “Ride it, fucking ride it,” he huffs. Adjusting the camera angle once more, you turn over, your back facing him, your ass taking up most of the camera as glide the dildo up and down your pussy, nudging your clit. “God, you’re a fucking tease,” he groans.

Your pussy glistens with your juices, just what Choso liked to see. Lifting your hips, you sink down onto the toy slowly, your pussy wrapping around the dildo and Choso lets out a guttural groan at the sight before him. You steady yourself on the palm of your hands, your ass jiggling with each bounce. “Look at me while you ride it, wanna see your pretty face.” His words were so keen yet desperate, and when you looked over your shoulder with that smile, Choso almost came on the spot.

“It’s so deep,” you mewl. Your back arches when you feel the tip kiss your cervix, a pleasured cry comes from you, tears forming in your eyes.

“There you go, baby,” he grins. He squeezes the tip of his cock and runs his thumb over it, shuddering at the effect. “F-fuck…there you go.” He trembles. “Don’t stop…don’t stop. Keep going for me, baby. Be a good girl and keep going,” he whispers, his whiny voice cracking. “Shit, shit, shit.” He slowed his movements down, bringing him right to the edge of his orgasm. He gasped for air, feeling lightheaded.

You watch him barely hold back his urge, finding it so hot how horny and needy he was—just like you. “Gonna cum, Cho? Mmm, I want it inside of me so bad, want watch it drip out of my pussy.” Your sinful words make Choso squirm, and he can’t help but fuck his fist faster once again.

“No, no, baby, don’t say stuff like that to me—ah, fuck, fuck. You’re gonna make me cum,” he cries, tossing his head back in ecstasy, a low groan escaping his throat. The image is glued into his brain and now he can’t stop thinking about it. “Oohhh, goddamn!” He lifts his head, breathing heavily between his moans. His eyes narrow in on your pussy, watching it glide up and down your toy. “Smack that ass for me,” he orders. “Yeah, yeah, just like that.” You swat your ass hard, the sound echoing off your walls and through his laptop speakers. “God, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard.”

“Cum with me, Cho—I’m close. Oh my god!” You grip onto the sheets below you. “Baby,” you huff, “baby…fuck…yes, yes!” You squeal, lifting your hips as streams of clear liquid shoot from your pussy, soaking your bed. Your entire body shakes, falling forward onto your pillows with a soft thump. You stingily stick two of your fingers back in your cunt, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible.

Choso’s breath quivers as he grows seconds from cumming, his fist pumping fast and hard and he’s making suck a sticky mess. “A-ahh, f-fuckkkk,” his hips are jumping and thick globs of cum spurt everywhere, landing on his chest, stomach, and hands. “Yes, oh my god, yes,” he breathes, still pumping his cock.

Both of you are breathing frantically, panting, trying to catch your breath. You manage to gather your strength and face the camera, a lazy smile on your face and a fucked out look in your eyes. Choso chuckles, tossing his head back, dick still twitching. “Well, that was fun,” you laugh. “And messy,” you added.

“Fuck me, that was too good. I’m still shaking.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wiping the sweat off of his head with the back of his hand.

“Me too! My legs are so weak,” you reply, taking a deep breath. “I enjoyed our private chat. I think it was worth it.” You bite your lip.

“I agree. Thank you for that. God, no one would believe me if I told them,” he laughs.

“No, thank you. I was more pent up than I thought…You said you don’t have a girlfriend, right?” You raised a brow, fiddling with your fingers.

“No, why?” Choso asks out of curiosity, smirking at you.

“Where do you live?” You kept bombarding him with questions like you were some type of investigator. Though, you were actually interested in him.

“Um, Sendai,” he answers.

“Perfect. Take me on a date. I’ll text my number to you,” you hurriedly say with a smile.

“Wait, what? Hold on—”

“If it isn’t obvious, I like you, Choso. Is there a problem with that?” You ask in a playful tone.

“No,” his voice trails off, “no, not at all.” He shakes his head. “I just never—”

“Had a girlfriend or been on a date? I don’t care. You’re cute and awkward—which is also cute—but I like you. You seem like a sweetheart and you can make me cum so that’s a plus.” The way you were speaking to him so casually had him shocked, but then he remembers just mere minutes ago both of you were having sex on video chat together. But horny Choso and normal Choso are two different sides of him. “So, like I said, I’ll text you my number and we can continue talk and go on a date. Got it?”

“Yeah,” he nods his head obediently, “I got it.” He’s at a loss for words.

“Good,” you say cheerfully. “Byeee, Choso! Text me!” You wave at the camera, laughing and giggling and his heart flutters when you blow him a kiss. The video chat ends and he sits there stunned. His dick is still out, his cum painted all over his torso and he can’t comprehend what just happened. He sees you text your number in chat and just stares and stares.

“Holy fucking shit.”

a/n: I fear this is long overdue and I am soooo sorry lmaooo but I hope it was worth the wait bc if not I’ll cry myself to sleep

taglist (comment to be added):

@valleydoli @zxnxy @screechingbasementprincess @lexluthorbutnotbald @lynxslokley @briyah0 @levisjinchuriki @maiiluvs @levizonlywife @xllizs

[itsswritten]

love in ink

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, (there's a bit of Az and Elain too sorry)

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Heartbreaking angst, rejection, blood, injuries, war, possible death.

Summary: On the brink of war, it was now or never to finally confess your feelings to Azriel, but when you stumble onto a moment you wish you hadn't perhaps it's the gods way of saying your confession had been too late.

The envelope was crumpled at the corners, the paper sure to wear thin under the pads of your thumbs. You stared at your handwriting, his name spiralled in ink slightly faded now.

Words you had written just over 50 years ago, a confession, a secret— a love letter for your best friend. A string of sentences and poetic prose that still rang true. You’re not even sure you remember what you wrote exactly, never really intending for it to see the light of day, however you knew your feelings were still the same. Despite the worn out paper in your hand, the envelope changed with time— your feelings had not. Unchanging. From the moment you met him, your love for him had always remained the same. If anything, it had only deepened and expanded with time.

The atmosphere of the war camp was heavy, the enemy soldiers high on the borders. It was only a matter of time before you would need to take your place on the frontlines. Before he, and your family took their positions among the soldiers to fight to protect the home you all held dear. 

Death was lingering in the air, whispers of it rustled through the trees that sent a shiver down your spine. An impending end felt as though it was looming over you, a clock about to strike its final hour or an hourglass about to crack. For the first time in years you weren’t sure how you’d all make it out of this one. That’s why it had to be now, those words that had always been on the tip of your tongue, the secret behind your gentle touches, the confession deep within your yearning gaze, you needed to tell him—to finally speak your truth. 

You moved between Prythian soldiers and Illyrians prepping themselves with armour and weapons, weaving between people with one destination in mind. Turning to see the commanding military tent you and Rhys had left him in hours ago. You hesitated for a moment outside, smoothing your fingers over the old parchment, your heartbeat quickening with nerves before taking a breath for confidence, stepping inside.

A shadow had tried to catch your elbow, its usual cool presence going amiss with your emotions shrouding your senses. If only you had noticed, noticed how it tried to save your heart. But with the adrenaline pumping in your veins, nothing could stop this now. 

Your eyes blinked adjusting to the dimly lit tent, filled with small fae-lights and a large table with a map spread across. Small figurines representing flanks that were knocked over now, there was no strategy to win this war— only luck, prayer and hope.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to find him, to settle on the large Shadowsinger who had always captured your attention in any room he was in. Even when he lurked in the quietest of shadows, your eyes always found him. He was so beautiful, not just in form but in heart too. 

That’s what you had fallen for first. Not his angelic looks, or that secret smile of his, not those expansive large wings that made you feel protected whenever in his presence— well it was easy to love all those things too, but it was his kind heart that spun this wheel of fate. Perhaps if you weren’t so tangled in your own heart you may have noticed there was someone else here. Scented another, a female. But it wasn’t until you saw his lips locked with hers that your gut sank.

Time seemed to slow in that second, while you saw Elain embrace Azriel in a moment you’re not sure you should have been privy to. Something so private and intimate. A farewell kiss before a war— a kiss you had hoped would have been yours. 

Elain’s body was flush against his front, her arms thrown around his neck to pull herself up to his height. Azriel’s hands, though hesitant, still sat on her waist. It was a twisting torture as you seemed to take in every detail of their embrace, the flush of Azriel’s cheeks, the beat of his heart, the light sound of Elain’s moan.

Your throat tightened then, time finally catching up as a gasp involuntarily left your lips. Heartbreaking and wobbly that you hadn’t even realised you’d made such a distressing sound before you’d stumbled backwards from the tent. One foot in front of the other, forcing your legs to move you faster as your heartbeat thudded in your ears.

Your cheeks were hot, blood rushing to your ears, teeth gritted as you tried to control the sob that was threatening to bubble up. Not here, not now. You couldn’t waste tears on this, not when it was your fault you had left it so long— not when you were about to go to war and you may never make it out again. 

You think you heard your name being called, but you pushed through the crowd further. Winding through the stifling tension within the camp, slipping in and out of pockets of soldiers, a dizzying spiral to try and escape what you had just witnessed. The image of them both kept replaying in your mind, your own vision becoming distorted with tears blurring with that near perfect picture of a heroic farewell you thought would have been yours. 

With one wrong step you collided with a body, a shoulder barging into you that only meant your wobbly legs followed your wobbly mind, and you collided with the mud below. You grunted at the collision, a whispered curse leaving your lips.

You needed to get a grip. 

You brushed the back of your sleeve against your face, wiping whatever tears that had already spilled and encouraged yourself to get ahold of at least a semblance of composure. You hadn’t endured 50 years under that mountain, 50 years away from your family— away from him to now suddenly break.

“Y/n…”

You could recognise his voice anywhere. That deep tone that always seemed to dance on the wind to you, weaving a melody around your heart. There was a shuffle behind you, and with a swiftness those familiar smoky tendrils came to you. Their aid and touch, always so soft as they tried to assist you from the ground. But in a movement so unlike you, you swatted them away. Their touch almost burning you. The embarrassment, the shame, the heartbreak that was coiling in your chest was too much to bear. And although there was nothing that you desired more than the cooling comforting touch of his shadows, you couldn’t bring yourself to indulge in it. Not now. Not after what you’d just seen.

Azriel breathed your name again, raspy and almost pained as you refused his help, pushing yourself from the ground. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, choosing to wipe the dirt off your leathers, your gaze remaining on the ground below. You could see him shuffle slightly, his boots stepping closer towards you in the dirt. His hand just in the corner of your peripheral lifting to reach, only for it to fall back to his side. Scarred fingers flexing and twitching against his leathers, the only indication that perhaps his own emotions were reeling right now too.

“Sweetheart…”, the name of endearment he always used with you fell from his tongue like a siren's song. You hated how much of a hold he held on you, how easy it was to give in, how desperate your heart wanted to submit. “Talk to me,” he breathed.

There was a pause for a moment, before you found the courage to look at him. Convincing yourself that this might even be the last time, and despite everything you had just seen, did you want to deprive yourself from one last look at the male who had held your heart for over half a century.

His hazel eyes locked with your teary ones, an expression upon your face that had Azriel’s brows furrowing deeper. He reached for you this time, no hesitation after he got his confirmation that you were upset. His hands coming to your arms. “Hey…hey. Talk to me sweetheart, I need you to talk to me, we can sort this…”

Did he even know what this was? What your tears were spilling over? Did he know it was he causing you pain?

You were certain he didn’t. Otherwise he would have known there was no fixing this. There was no way Azriel could fix your broken heart. But as those thoughts seemed to dwell in your mind, it was as if the Shadowsinger began to feel your defeat, a desperation in his tone, “Look at me y/n, hey…look at me. Talk to me, my lo-“

Rhys’ talons scratched on the edges of your mind, and you welcomed your High Lord in. An urgent broadcast not just to you but all his inner circle.

“Enemies have broken through the barriers on the East I need someone—“

The perfect escape.

“I’m on my way,” you replied with haste. Only to get a harsh no from Azriel in response, his grip tightening on you. 

“Don’t leave like this-“ his voice broke.

A part you almost stayed, your eyes lingering in his gaze, those three words still on the tip of your tongue. You’re not sure you could have survived outright rejection from him though, so, instead, you winnowed away from his hold.

Azriel stood there for a moment, his hands still out in front grasping with the cold air that was now between his fingers. A confusion simmering under his skin as to what had happened. All he had known was that something was wrong, from the moment Elain kissed him, to seeing you stumble out of that tent. Everything was wrong. 

And this was not a time for things to be wrong. There was a war unfolding right before him and he didn’t have the privilege of time for things to be wrong. Especially not with you.

His shadows were coiling around something in the mud. An envelope with his name on, in a handwriting that was unmistakably yours.

✴

The air despite being cool and crisp was stifling, choking, making it hard for Azriel to breathe. Although there was no fire here, no molten ash or smoke coating his lungs. Just an emptiness of a person he held dear who was nowhere to be found. An emptiness so heavy it was getting harder to breathe.

Azriel felt weighed down by the stench of blood that lingered in the air, the battle was over. They had won, barely– and now what could be heard were the grunts and cries of injured soldiers.

Azriel’s torn wings dragged behind him, as he trudged through the eastern battle line. There were more bodies littered here than on the main battlefield, a fact that hadn’t gone untouched by the Spymaster. You had gone here in an instant, leaving Azriel grappling with your scent on the wind as you’d left. Leaving him to find a worn out letter with words he wasn’t sure he was deserving of– a letter that changed everything.

A letter that made everything feel right.

The letter was folded neatly in the breast pocket of his leathers, just above his heart. 

“Where are you?” his voice was hoarse, he had been searching as soon as the battle was won. The usual quiet Shadowsinger had not relented when shouting for you in his search. But with every step he took his chest got tighter, the further down the bank he walked the probability of finding you was becoming less and less. His shadows that lingered on him for comfort began to move frantically, a direct reflection of Azriel’s fears bubbling under his skin. Their jittery movement hovering in the air around him.

Then he caught it. A faint scent he would always recognise. Barely there beneath the copper and rot. His head snapped toward the source, and before he could think, his feet carried him forward.

His shadows converged at a pile of rubble, a mound of shattered stone and splintered wood. They darted in and out, trembling as if confirming what he already feared.

“Please, no…” Azriel whispered, his voice raw. He dropped to his knees and began digging, ignoring the way the sharp edges bit into his palms. He pulled away debris with savage strength, tearing through the wreckage until—

You.

He found you. Broken and soul barely a whisper of the female he knew. Blood was matted in your hair, skin littered with gashes and bruises but your chest rose. Azriel could see small shallow breaths leave your lips, his own movements frozen before his shadows moved into action first. Moving you gently into their master’s arms, he cradled you. Sweet whispers falling from his lips that were pressed against your temple.

“Az–Azriel..” your voice hitched.

“I’m here sweetheart, you’re going to be okay. You’re so brave sweet girl,” 

“It hurts…”

“I know, I know my love…you’re so strong okay. Help is on it’s way, you’re going to be okay,”

Azriel had already sent a mental plea into the vastness but as he watched your eyelids begin to flutter he shouted into the cold air, crying to anyone who may hear for a healer, for help. Because he could not lose you, not now he knew. 

Your name left his lips in a sob as he pulled your fragile body tighter against him “Just hold on a little longer my love, please, for me…” His hand delicately came against your cheek, his own forehead resting against yours as a flurry of pleas rolled on his tongue. “Just a little longer…”

He swore he heard some semblance of a hum in response but your eyes were shut. He was stroking your blood-matted hair now, rambling and whispering. 

“I got your letter, I’m not sure if you really wanted me to have it, not sure if I’m really deserving of what you’ve written in it but oh sweetheart…your lovely words…I’m so blessed…so lucky…so undeserving…”

“But if it’s true..” he was stumbling over his words now, in between the sobs, “if you give me the chance to make this right…”

“I know now why you were so upset before…I think a part of me understood…felt your pain because in some way I was feeling it too…” his thumb was rubbing small circles on your cheekbone.

“If I could go back and change it I would. I need you to know it was a mistake…with Elain…tensions were high, feelings misdirected…

“I was thinking I could take you to the bakery you love when you’re feeling better, if you’d let me…we could make a day of it…walk along the Sidra…maybe our first proper date…

“I wish I hadn’t been so blind my love, you’ve always been the most special person to me…after you came back from under the mountain…I…well I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again…I just felt grateful to have you back, told myself I didn’t need anything more than that…

“Can you hold on for me…please…my love, just a little longer…

“Az…”, his name pulled him from his ramblings, although it wasn’t your voice that had spoken.

Azriel looked up, Rhys was kneeled in front of him. They weren’t on the battlefield anymore though. They were in a healers tent. When had they moved? Azriel couldn’t recall. 

“I need you to give her to me now.”

Azriel looked at his brother confused, then glanced down to your limp figure in his arms. 

“Azriel, now.”

a/n: sorry i know I had some requests for some festive fluff but instead I bring you this angst...sorry not sorry tee hee <3 thank you @writingcroissant for your help I mentioned this fic idea to her months ago and literally only found it the other week, if you don't like the elusive ending blame her ;) Although if I had taken @illyrianbitch advice y/n would most definitely be dead so I think the elusiveness means you can all choose your own endings. Maybe both her and Az are dead and actually Rhys is the devil I dunno

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @searchingforbucky

[sloaneispunk]

“friend or foe” pt.2

soft!frontman (hwang in-ho) x you

when frontman joined the games, he thought it was solely to see gihun fail, but his intentions shifted when a certain player number 455 caught his attention…

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

the next day, you ate breakfast with in-ho and the team. they discussed different strategies and games in which they might have to play.

naturally, in-ho had given his milk to you even after much protests. he explained how it would help you get stronger and ready for the games.

“where’s my milk?” jung-bae sulked as everyone laughed.

you stayed beside in-ho the entire time. since after the second game, you had grown very fond of him. and luckily for you, so did he.

he felt protective of you, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. even more so in a place like this. when you were caught up with thanos’ team, trying to save yourself after bumping into nam-gyu

in-ho made sure to step up, teaching thanos and his friends a lesson for laying a hand on you, or even threatening you.

he would have went feral if you hadn’t stopped him by pulling him away into a corner, helping him cool off.

“it’s okay, i’m okay.” you told him as you tried to get him to tear his eyes away from glaring at thanos.

“did they hurt you?” he simply asked, ignoring everything else you had just said.

‘no’. you shook your head.

after that, he made sure he always had you within feet from him.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

when it was time for the third game, in-ho held your hand as everyone walked towards the game room.

“i hope it’s something we can play in teams.” he said to you, making you smile.

“why? so you can team up with me?” you teased.

“of course.”

when you reached the game room, a large carousel sat in the center of the room. around it were different colored doors with numbers on them, 1-50.

“what is this?” in-ho wondered out loud as a voice came through the speakers.

‘the game is mingle. the carousel will move when the music plays…once it stops, a number will be called out. the number is the number of people you will need to have in your group before you enter a room of your choice.’

“shit.” you cursed under your breath.

it was going to be a bloodbath.

of course, in-ho already knew this. he might have been acting scared, but deep down, he was. how was he to garuntee your safety in a game like this.

if he didn’t come up with anything quickly, he could mess up the game, or worse, lose you.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

‘start’

ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a

as the giant carousel began to rotate, in-ho’s grip on your hand became tighter.

‘10’

“we need 5!” gi-hun yelled over the chaos that insued.

“we’re 5! let’s go! green door!” player 120 said as both teams ran for the door.

inside, in-ho made sure you were okay first before he checked on the rest.

“you should be thanking me!” a woman suddenly declared, throwing her hand up in the air. “without me, you all would have died!”

“geez! the ego on this woman.” jung-bae scoffed.

then, she whipped her head around, finger flying to your face as she stopped inches away, almost hitting you.

“can i help you?” you asked.

“you… you’re here for a purpose.” she said.

in-ho pulled you aside, stepping in front as he glared at the woman.

“you talk to her again and i’ll make sure you’re locked outside.”

the woman could only gulp.

just in time, the door unlocked, saving the lady’s ass as well as yours.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

“fuckin’ crazy sharman lady.” in-ho muttered to himself as he got back up onto the platform.

you giggled. it was funny how he was affected by everything else but the deadly game he was in the midst of.

‘4’

shit. someone was going to be left behind.

“gi-hun! take her, i’ll find others!” in-ho instructed as gi-hun nodded, grabbing your arm and dashing into a room.

“young-il!” you screamed as you were being dragged away from him.

he was so selfless, he only cared about saving you and his ‘friends’.

“he’ll be okay.” dae-ho told you as he stood beside you, peeping through the hole in the door.

the next few minutes were excruciating. you couldn’t find in-ho in the running, desperate crowd.

little did you know, in-ho was in a room on his own, locking it before anyone could enter.

he catched his breath as a guard came up to the doorhole, aiming his gun at him.

“stand down.” in-ho ordered, making the guard turn away, walking off.

when the doors unlocked, you sprinted out.

“there!” gi-hun called out, pointing to in-ho who was running towards you.

you practically flung yourself onto him, taking him aback as he laughed.

“oh my god, i was so worried.” you told him as you pulled away.

“you can’t rid of me that easy.”

“ah! we thought you couldn’t find enough people in time!” jung-bae chipped in.

“i’m a very likeable man, i do well in these games.” he joked.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

when it came down to the final round, a thick air of tension filled the atmosphere.

the last number was announced, ‘2’. you knew exactly what they were doing. around 150 people left, 50 rooms, you were going to have to fight for the rooms.

the team had split up, in-ho naturally sticking eith you as you both ran for the nearest room.

just as you were about to enter, you felt a strong push, knocking you to the ground onto your back as the man took your place, shutting the door as the timer hit 0.

“y/n!” in-ho shouted as tears started to fill your eyes.

“young-il… don’t let me die.” you cried.

oh, he was angry. angry wasn’t even actually able to cover it. he was fuming.

he picked up the man by the collar, punching and kicking him as he yelled in frustration.

as the guards approached you, you heard his voice.

“standdown! now!” he said, “that is an order.”

just like that, the gun held up towards your temple was gone. the guard walked over to the room, using a set of keys to open it before standing behind you.

in-ho however did not step out. he simply grabbed the man who was already fighting for his dear life, locking him in a headlock.

“w-what?” you asked, backing away from in-ho as his eyes pooled with anger.

“take her upstairs.” he said to the guard as he nodded, lifting you up and dragging you away.

the last thing you heard was the loud crack of the man’s neck echoing through your ears.

(i am going insane)

[cranberry-cherry6]

Waking her up with head Warnings: pre-established consent, oral sex, somnophilia, mentions of fingering and strapon use

Vi who put in work last night giving you orgasm after orgasm. Head, fingering, with her strap as the last course. Let's just say that after all that you didn't have enough energy to even get to the bathroom much less reciprocate, all of your murmured arguments were swiftly shut down.

 “you’ll get me next time, sweetheart, no sweat” she cooed pressing a firm yet gentle kiss to your forehead. You were knocked out within minutes.

And now that it’s morning, a few rays of sunlight making their way through your cheap curtains, just coming out of the best sleep you've had in weeks, the sight of vi’s relaxed face as she lays on her back brings butterflies to your stomach. 

Turning to face her while bringing a hand up to trace her freckles you really couldn't help but feel the heat in your core brewing. I mean what's the point of having a gorgeous girlfriend if you can't love on her. 

Lifting the worn duvet to expose her breasts, watching her pink nipples harden in the cool air. Slowly sitting up to press barely there kisses against them, trailing them down her stomach. Never looking away from her face to catch any and every reaction. It was incredible to watch someone so guarded let their walls down. 

It filled your chest with joy to be able to play a part in her feeling safe, here, in your small home. These thoughts just filled you with passion, kisses becoming more firm and fast paced. Sliding between her relaxed thighs, lifting one over your shoulder for better access.

You were faced with her gorgeous exposed sex, soft pink hair, pretty clit in all it's glory.

You didn't want to wake her up abruptly, starting by blowing cool air on her twitching clit. Then leaning down to press a soft open mouthed kiss to it before moving down to her entrance,  Repeating the back and forth motion a few times, before pressing your tongue flat against it in a slow drag. 

That gave you a furrowed brow paired with a soft sigh. You couldn't take your eyes off her even if you tried. Every movement caught in the weight of your gaze, trying to further her reactions. At this point you had lost all regard for waking her and had moved to kissing her pretty pussy the way you would during one of your passionate makeouts. Your hunger, insatiable, fed by the thought of her orgasm. 

Finally her eyes opened immediately looking down, gaze heavy with sleep and want. It’s only a small moment of heady shock before a cocky smirk is stretched over her lips.

“What a way to wake up” she sighs, a small moan tumbling out of her mouth at the increase of your pace, now that she's awake the last bit of your restraint is gone.

And it’s not long before you can feel her approaching orgasm. 

“ah shiiit” “f-f-uck….that’s it baby, don't stop"

 “im gonna cuum”

Her fingers reach down to lace into your hair, holding you right where she needs. The pressure snaps, her thighs clenching around you, bordering on suffocation. 

Only letting you come up for sure after her orgasm just running on fumes. 

“m'sorry, honey come here” she’s still catching her breath as she uses her big strong arms to pull you up to lay on her. 

Pressing her lips to yours in a filthy kiss, tasting herself on you. 

You break the kiss just to litter her face and neck in at least 50 more. Causing her to let out a soft chuckle and press her nose right into cheek trying to get some of her own in. 

Finally, relaxing back into her pillow with a deep breath and smile on her face. You follow in her lead letting your muscles relax and your head rest against her sternum where you place one final kiss.

“Told you I was going get you back” you whispered wiping a hand over your mouth.

“Yea, yea you got me good, I thought you'd be fast asleep still, it looked like you were never gonna get back up last night” you scoff at her response, cocky as ever, like you didn't just have her cross eyed. 

Like she knew you were rearing up to sass her back, she took one of her large hands using it to draw big soothing circles along your spine. 

Honestly the fact that she knew that, that would calm you right down was another point of irritation, but you decided that you were in fact actually still tired from last night and the petty back and forth could wait till later, when you were both more awake and looking through whatever scraps were left in your fridge for breakfast. 

Being able to tell that you were getting ready to go back to snoozeville she pulled the discarded duvet back up over both of you. Deciding that while shes would usually be up, ready to seize the day by now, that early morning orgasm had cleared her mind and made her just a bit sleepy. 

The steady thump of her heart beneath your ear lulling you to sleep. While the warm pressure of your body against hers, like a weighted blanket had the same effect on her.

The day would still be there after a quick late morning snooze.

[linoxpudding]

Not A Date - Lee Know

summary: a valentine’s hangout turns accidentally romantic when SKZ meddles—forcing you and minho to rethink your friendship

pairing: lee know x reader, skz squad

genre: fluff, humor

fic type: written + text

a/n: wrote this on a rush, I just got this cute request few hours ago but I really wanted to upload this on valentines day bc of the theme, happy valentines day my cuties 💜

Masterlist

~°~

7th February, 7:15 pm:

It all started with a simple hangout plan between you and your friend, Minho.

12th February, 5:25 pm at SKZ Dorm:

The dorm was unusually loud, which was never a good sign. Minho sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone while eating chips. Hyunjin plopped down beside him, stretching dramatically.

"Yo, you doing anything for Valentine’s?" Hyunjin asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

"What?" Minho asked, not even looking at him.

"This Friday? Got any plans?" Hyunjin asked again.

Minho barely looked up. "Yeah, I’m going somewhere with Y/N."

Silence.

Hyunjin blinked. "Wait. What?"

Minho raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're spending Valentine’s with Y/N?"

"Not Valentine's, just a Friday hangout? Why are you being weird?"

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped. "LEE FELIX! HAN JISUNG! COME HERE RIGHT NOW."

Within seconds, the entire dorm was in chaos.

Then the news travelled to the rest of the members who were in the studio.

The realisation between you both.

The endless teasings of your friends.

14th February, 11 am the morning of "Non-Date":

14th February, 2:50 pm at the "Non-Date":

Somehow, neither of you could manage to stop the chaos. Now, you stood outside the cat café, staring at Minho, who was—against his will—dressed suspiciously well.

“…Did they force you to dress up?” you asked, eyeing his button-up.

Minho sighed. "Chan hyung literally ironed this shirt himself. I had no choice."

You laughed, taking in the scene. There were people everywhere—couples holding hands, roses being exchanged, soft music playing from the café speakers. It was undeniably romantic.

"You do realize this actually looks like a date now, right?" you said, crossing your arms.

Minho rolled his eyes. "Thanks to those idiots, yes."

You both walked inside, greeted by the warm scent of coffee and the sight of fluffy cats lounging around. The moment you sat down, a waiter came over with a knowing smile.

"Happy Valentine’s! Your special couple’s drinks are on the house."

You choked. "Sorry, we're not—"

"We’ll take it," Minho interrupted.

You turned to him, scandalized. "Minho!"

He shrugged. "What? Free drinks."

The rest of the afternoon was surprisingly… nice. The cats were adorable, the drinks were actually good, and after the initial awkwardness faded, it felt like your usual hangouts.

But something was different.

It wasn’t the setting or the day itself—it was the way he kept stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking, but you could feel his eyes on you. Or the way you noticed how soft his voice got when he spoke to you. Your heart fluttered in those miniscule moments.

Soon it was time to leave, you both exited the cafe and began walking.

The night air was crisp, just cold enough for you to pull your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked side by side with him.

Minho was quiet, but not in an awkward way—just comfortable. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. The only sounds were the soft rhythm of your footsteps against the pavement and the distant hum of city life around you.

Your hands brushed.

Barely, just for a second. A whisper of warmth against the cool air.

You ignored the way your breath hitched.

It happened again. A fleeting touch, his fingers grazing against yours before pulling away.

You peeked up at him. He was looking straight ahead, jaw relaxed, expression unreadable—except for the way the corner of his lips twitched. Like he knew but wasn’t saying anything.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the space between the two of you.

Minho tilted his head slightly, his voice low. “Cold?”

You shook your head, a little too quickly. “Nope.”

He hummed, unconvinced, taking your hand gently and intertwining, then shoving your hands into his pockets. “Hmm. Could’ve fooled me.”

You bit back a smile, glancing away. Heart racing.

The streetlights cast a soft glow over his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the quiet amusement dancing in his eyes.

He looked… good.

Too good.

Dangerously good.

You exhaled, trying to shake the thought away. This wasn’t a date.

…Right?

As if reading your mind, Minho’s voice cut through the quiet. “So,” he mused, “are you gonna admit it yet?”

You blinked up at him. “Admit what?”

“That you had fun,” he said simply, turning to meet your gaze. “That maybe this wasn’t the worst way to spend Valentine’s.”

You scoffed, “maybe.”

He stopped walking for a second, just enough for you to nervously take your hands out of his pocket and take a step ahead before he caught up again.

Then, quietly, he murmured, “Maybe I should take you out again.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he nudged your shoulder lightly, the teasing glint back in his eyes. “You know. Accidentally.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips.

Minho noticed.

He definitely noticed.

But he didn’t say anything—just smirked to himself, eyes flickering forward as you two kept walking.

Hands brushing. Shy smiles lingering.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny, traitorous thought whispered:

This felt a lot like the beginning of something.

Later that night....

The SKZ Family

the end.

----

another SKZ meddling fic: READ HERE

[thinkinonsense]

34+35𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader

cw: do the math.

wc: 1k+

positions mini-series masterlist

logan didn't know what he was going to do with you. such a needy little rabbit. that's the only thing he could compare you to, a fuckin' rabbit.

"slow down, sweets." logan mutters against your glossy lips.

all day, you were longing for logan's touch. the second you heard his truck pull into the driveway, you practically jump into his big strong arms. he could smell your arousal down the street. you wanted nothing more than for logan to bring out his inner animal, but he was going to make you work for it.

you dragged him into your shared bedroom once he shrugged off his suit jacket. logan noticed how clean the bedroom looked, the only things on the nightstand were his cigars and one of your pretty coffee mugs. your bedsheets were the same colors as your lingerie, soft lilac and white.

"let me get a look at ya', princess." logan says in your ear while you try to climb in his lap. instead, you give him a little spin, his hands never leaving your hips. "look like a doll."

you smile at him then shove him roughly on his back, climbing on top of the older man. by no means were you stronger than logan but when you get like this, he wonders if you were the one with the adamantium skeleton.

"been thinking about you all day long..." you say, clawing at his white button-down. logan chuckles, moving his hands further south on your body.

"whatcha been thinking 'bout?" he asks, squeezing your ass.

"fucking you."

logan loves when you get like this. you bat your pretty lashes up at him while saying the filthiest things. even in his older state, he liked keeping up with someone younger.

"i'm not sure, princess." logan sighs. "i'm pretty tired from work."

"we try something different if you want?" you suggest sweetly running your fingers through his grey hair.

"like what?"

without hesitation, you get up and straddle his chest backward. his button-down was opened exposing his toned stomach. logan wasn't up to date on modern-day sex terms, he knew what he liked and pretty much stuck to it unless you introduced him to something. what? he's old fashion.

"so, you're just gonna sit on my-" logan's words died in his throat the moment you started unbuckling his belt.

you pull out his half-hard cock and begin slowly pumping him. logan couldn't believe the position you put yourself in but he sure was thankful for it. as you traced one of his veins with your tongue, logan pulled your hips closer to his mouth, messily making out with your cunt over the material of your lilac panties. this made you wiggle your hips annoyed by his teasing.

"please..." you huff, taking him out of your mouth to beg. "no teasing, lo..."

logan tugs you back against him roughly so he can slurp up the wetness that coated the now dark purple material. when you begin to kitten lick him, smacking the tip against your tongue, logan tosses his head back and lets out a feral moan.

"sorry, sweetheart." he groans, extending one claw to cut your panties off of you then putting it back away.

"logan!" you gasp, wanting to scold him.

suddenly, you feel him spread you open with his fingers without warning, logan spits directly onto your cunt. butterflies flutter inside of you at his dirty action. logan then switch's between sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue, savoring the taste of you.

"f-fuck, lo..." you moan around his length while scratching at his thick thighs. you can feel him grin against your most intimate area.

logan releases you from his mouth with a tiny pop. he can see you pulsing, needing to be filled. within seconds, logan takes two fingers into his mouth coating them with spit then angles them at your entrance.

"ugh, fuck!" you feel like the wind was just knocked from your lungs. logan was relentless, gradually increasing his pace while your forehead rested against one of his thighs.

"thought this was supposed to be 50/50 effort, sweetheart?" logan teases, hitting that spongey spot inside of you with his fingers repeatedly. "gonna make your old man do all the work-"

"shut up." you groan, placing your cunt back against his mouth.

a small whimper falls from logan's lips, breaking down his tough man persona. you adored when the 'big bad wolf' became a submissive little play thing.

logan can feel you clenching around his fingers, sucking him in completely. he wasn't far behind but he needed more. through blurry vision, you can see logan bend his knees and lift his hips so he's hitting the back of your throat at his own pace; the tip kissing your esophagus.

"such a good fuckin' girl..." logan groans against your lips.

neither of you could warn the other about your approaching orgasms. eyes full of stars when suddenly logan coats your throat while you grind against his face, his soaked beard leaving faint red scratches on your inner thighs.

you must have laid on him for a moment too long after because logan playfully slaps your ass, sending you scurrying away from him.

"how was that?" you pant, facing him normally again with a fucked out smile.

"fuckin' amazing, princess," he says, grabbing your chin and pulling you into a kiss. you straddle logan's waist again, feeling him harden again underneath you.

"that was quick." you giggle against his lips.

"mhm, think you'll be able to keep up?" he challenges you.

"watch it, old man..." you smirk, lifting up and placing him at your entrance. "or you're gonna need a seatbelt when i ride it."

as you sink down on him, logan was torn on where to steady his gaze. he wanted to stare at where the two of you were connected but when your hand start pawing at his dog tags desperately, he knew the answer was to look up at your adorable fucked out face.

"you doin' alright there sweetheart?" logan purrs underneath you, wrapping a hand around your hair and tugging softly. your stamina always impressed him, how you could keep going and going was beyond his old fragile state. "bet you want your old man to take over, huh? fuck you nice and good like you deserve? know you want it, baby."

logan knew the best way to get into your head and your panties were with his words. it always worked, until now.

"what did i tell you earlier, baby?" you taunt him, reaching over and grabbing your ripped underwear to shove in his mouth. "shut up."

"oh, fuck" logan moans against the material while your hips bounce frantically against his; shaking the bed frame and banging it against the wall.

thank god, the two of you live deep in the woods or else your neighbors would constantly think there's an earthquake coming when the two of you were fucking. you feel logan twitch inside of you, letting you know he's close.

"let go, lo..." you moan, leaning down to his ear level while he desperately smacks your hips into his, chasing his high. "you know you wanna cum inside it."

logan's hips snapped, drooling all over your panties as your cunt sucks him in. his warmth coats your walls pearly white while one of his hands comes down to play with your clit until your moaning vulgarly in his ear.

"r-r-right there, lo..." you whimper, biting down on his shoulder as you cum around him. "please, please don't stop!"

neither of you wanted to move once both of you come down from your highs. you pull your ripped up panties out of logan's mouth before slumping down on top of his chest.

"tired, princess?" he chuckles.

"mhm..." you sigh, getting comfortable against him.

"look who's getting old now, hm?" logan teases, flipping you over carefully onto the sheets.

"stay..."

"i'm just clean you up." he assures you. "get some rest. i'll be here."

those were the last words you heard before falling asleep in his arms.

[forzalando]

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[justagalwhowrites]

Knockin' on Heaven's Door - A TLOU One Shot

Sex in the apocalypse is risky but, with Joel Miller, that's a risk worth taking. AKA Joel tries to breed you on patrol.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: BREEDING KINK. Reader is AFAB but otherwise no description. No mention of reader age BUT she's premenopausal and it's hinted that she had at least some college before the outbreak so choose your own adventure for age gap (I'm picturing her late 40s, maybe 50, Joel is 56 but you do you). Romanticization and sexualization of pregnancy. JUST THE TIPPPPPPP. Joel and reader are both whores and you know what so is author nobody look at me. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 3.2k

A/N: LOOK. OK? LOOK. I was scrolling TikTok before starting my work day today and I saw an edit of Joel to Knockin' on Heaven's Door and I started thinking about fucking Joel while he tried to resist fucking you and one break spent typing unhinged smut later, here we are. NOBODY. LOOK. AT. ME. I hope you enjoy this minimally edited snack love you bye

Master list | AO3

This was stupid. 

“Fuck,” Joel growled, desperate and panting in your ear. “C’mon, baby, just… fuck…” 

This was so fucking stupid. 

“We shouldn’t,” you moaned, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips canting up against him as he rutted his cock against your wet and aching slit, careful to stay outside you, just tantalizingly close to entering you as the two of you sought what relief you could. 

But it was hard to care that it was stupid when you knew he would feel so fucking good inside you, so so so fucking good. 

This was why you avoided Joel when you thought you were ovulating. Neither of you had any fucking self control and it wasn’t like birth control was just lying around in the apocalypse. The only way you had a prayer of not winding up pregnant was if you kept your fucking legs closed when you were at the most risk of getting knocked up but that was only doable if you weren’t within 100 feet of Joel Miller. 

OK probably more like 500 feet. 

Closer to a mile of distance was smarter if you were being honest. 

But here you were, outside Jackson on patrol with the start of your period two weeks behind you and the start of the next one two weeks in front of you and this stomach clenching feeling that if Joel came inside you right now you’d have a baby in your arms by this time next year. 

So. Fucking. Stupid.

Joel usually patrolled with Tommy but his whole house was down for the count with the flu and the younger Miller brother could barely move so you’d gotten assigned with Joel. 

Because why wouldn’t you? You’d patrolled together in the past, the two of you got on well enough, you were skilled and capable enough to handle the tougher route. No one in town knew that you and Joel fucked like rabbits every time you wound up in close quarters because you kept that shit to yourselves. 

It wasn’t their business what the two of you got up to. It’s not like you were in a relationship, it was just sex.

Mind-blowing, toe-curling, stomach-clenching, wish-your-college-best-friend-wasn’t-an-inhuman-monster-so-you-could-tell-her-all-the-gory-details sex.

Even though, when you were honest with yourself about it for even half a second, you wished it was more than that. You wished it was coming home to each other at the end of the day and holding hands in front of everyone in the town and him coming inside you while you were ovulating on purpose because, fuck, you might be a bad idea to have a baby in the apocalypse but with Joel you didn’t care. You wanted a family with him. But, if he didn’t feel the same way, that want was dangerous, so you just… pretended you didn’t.

Even though it was so tempting to give in. Especially now.  

“Fuck, I’ll pull out,” Joel said, voice so desperate you were sure he was out of his goddamn mind. “Just… just the tip, please baby, just the tip and I’ll pull out, swear I’ll pull out, fuck!” 

You just groaned in response, your pussy clenching desperately around nothing as his swollen cock head pressed against your clit. Your nails dug into his scalp and his shoulder, one hand slipped below the flannel of his shirt to find his skin as the other knotted in his hair. 

God this was stupid, this was bad, you’d known before you’d even left Jackson that this was going to be trouble. 

When they’d told you at dinner the night before that you and Joel would be going out together, you made eye contact across the mess hall, the two of you stepping off to the side of the building as everyone headed home for the night. 

“This a good idea?” Joel asked. You could see the silver in his hair catching on the moonlight as he looked around cautiously, making sure no one could hear you. “Know it’s… uh… not a great time for you…” 

“Yeah,” you said, looking around, too - mostly to keep yourself from looking at Joel and his too-handsome face - and crossing your arms over your stomach. “But we’re adults, not teenagers and it’s patrol, not spring break in Cabo. We can keep our clothes on for two days while we kill some infected, right?” 

He looked you up and down then, his jaw quirking as he did. 

“Right,” he said after a minute. “Yeah, we can.” 

In your defense, you’d done a good job of that for most of the day. You and Joel got along well outside of bed, too (part of the problem for you on the emotional side of things,) and you’d enjoyed riding with him and talking about the latest goings on in town and what Ellie had been getting up to lately. It was easy to remember how you’d gotten close enough to Joel to fall into bed with him the first time and how it was only natural that your feelings had grown from that. 

And then the infected were there. 

There were dozens of them, the two of you nearly overrun. There was a haze of gunpowder and  smoke from molotov cocktails and blood from the fresher bodies and, once they were all dead and the two of you were able to stop and take stock of things, you were so thankful that he was alive you couldn’t help yourself. You kissed him. 

Things moved quickly then, you practically ripping off your boots to get out of your jeans as Joel yanked off his belt and freed his cock. 

“We can’t,” you panted as you lay beneath him. “Just… outside, ’til we both come.” 

“Fuck, right,” he shook his head like he was trying to shake an idea loose, looking down to where he’d settled between your thighs, pressing his thick and long and hard cock into your slit so he could rut against your most sensitive place without entering you. You groaned at the feel of him there, so close to exactly where you wanted him. “Just ’til we come.” 

You nodded and he pinned your wrist to the floor of the safe house you’d stopped at before he started rocking his hips against you. 

It didn’t take long to lose control. You freed your hand so you could touch him the way you liked best, your hips working up against his, Joel pulling away from you every so often so he could look down and see where his swollen length was making a mess of your dripping cunt before covering your body with his again, his mouth on your throat and earlobe and lips like he was going to devour you.You came but it wasn’t satisfying, just driving your want higher and higher, inches away from exactly what you craved but still holding back.  

Because it was so goddamn stupid. 

He pulled back far enough that the head of his cock caught on your entrance just a little, just the barest hint of the stretch of him and you groaned. Your body knew how it would feel to take the heavy weight of him inside, just how satisfying it would be to feel him where you needed him most. 

“Just the tip,” he said again, fucking against your slit again, head working your clit. “Fuck, I need inside baby, just… just lemme…” 

“Just the tip,” you panted and he pulled back, stilling against you, his eyes searching yours, his pupils blown and a fucked out look on his face. “Just the tip and you pull out.” 

“Just the tip,” he nodded. “And I pull out.” 

“OK,” you said and you watched as he lined himself up with your entrance and pressed just the first inch or two inside. 

The relief was almost immediate, the burning stretch like scratching an itch inside yourself that you couldn’t reach and Joel groaned in satisfaction, eyes closing and head tilting back as he held himself just barely inside you. 

“Fuck,” he moaned softly, jerking the part of him that was still outside you for a moment before looking down to where he was splitting you open. “Goddamn you feel so fuckin’ good.” 

You were going to say the same when, you realized that the relief of the head of his cock was short lived. Instead of easing that ache inside yourself, it was getting worse and fuck, you were in trouble. 

***

Christ, you were heaven. 

He had that thought every time he was inside you but there was something about now that made you so much fucking better than normal. 

Maybe it was the fact that the two of you had almost fucking died. Maybe it was the fact that you really shouldn’t be doing this right now. Maybe it was the nagging thought at the back of his mind that if he did come inside you right now, he’d put his baby in you and fuck did he want that. 

It wasn’t a rational desire, he knew that. Jackson might be a great place but it was still the end of the fucking world, didn’t seem right to bring a child into it. And the two of you weren’t even together, not really. You were just two friends who fucked, that was all. 

But that didn’t change the fact that Joel loved watching his brother raise a child and wished that he could do the same. It didn’t change the fact that he wished he was more than that to you. It didn’t change the fact that, if he were to have another child, he’d want it to be with you. 

If you were there in town all full of his baby then you would be more than that with him and no one could deny it. You’d be his, as thoroughly as you could be anybody’s you’d be his and he fucking wanted that. Fuck, he wanted that. 

It had been so easy to fall into friendship with you, with your quick wit and generous nature and passion for so much in this broken world. Falling into fucking you had been even easier and he’d held himself back after that. He was in deep enough as it was, asking for anything else from you was selfish in the extreme. He was happy with what he had. Satisfied. 

Most of the time. 

But in moments like this one, when his desires couldn’t be hidden and were right there at the surface and soaked in heat and slick and want, it was too hard to not beg for more. 

“Goddamn, your pussy,” he spread your thighs wider, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh before his thumb found your clit, brushing over you and making your back arch before he started working that little swollen, sensitive nub in time with the head of his cock working the inside of your tight channel. 

“Holy shit,” you groaned, clearly straining to sit still as your pussy started to tighten around him. “Fuck, Joel…” 

“You gonna come on my cock?” He asked. “Gonna let me feel that pussy come all over me?” 

You just nodded, your fingers flexing uselessly against the ground, searching for an outlet. 

“Unbutton your shirt for me,” he panted. “Lemme see those perfect fucking tits.” 

Your hands flew to obey, almost ripping the buttons off and exposing your skin to him before tugging the cups of your bra below the swell of your breasts and he groaned. 

He shouldn’t have told you to do that. Now all he could think about was how you would grow there, too, if he fucked his baby into you in that moment. How soft and full you’d be, how satisfying it would be to lick and suck and kiss you there knowing that your body had changed to care for the baby you made together. 

“Fuck, so fuckin’ pretty,” he grunted, fighting the urge to fuck all the way into you the way he was so desperate to do. You groaned and your hands found your tits, squeezing them and cupping them and your pussy fluttered over his head, nearly driving him over the edge but he resisted. “There you go, look so damn pretty coming for me. Bet I can get you to another one, baby, bet I can make you feel so fuckin’ good…” 

“I need you,” you cut him off, sounding like you were damn near choking on want. “Please…” 

“You got me,” he said, fucking just the head of himself in and out of the shallowest part of you, heart pounding in his chest. “All yours, baby.” 

It was true in so many ways. He didn’t fuck anyone but you, didn’t look at anyone but you, didn’t want anyone but you. It didn’t matter if there wasn’t a damn label on it, if he was anything at all he was yours. 

“I need all of you,” you said, your eyes finding his as you panted for breath. “Inside me. Please.” 

Joel stilled, watching you for a moment. 

“You sure about that?” He asked, breathless. “Know what you’re askin’ for?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded and swallowed hard. “And I want you. Please, Joel.” 

Some distant, quiet part of his brain told him this was stupid, that you weren’t in your right mind, that he should think for the both of you and put a stop to this but that that part was drowned out quickly. 

“Fuck, alright baby,” he said, watching where part of him was inside you. “I’ll pull out and…” 

“Don’t,” you whispered and his gaze flew to meet yours. Your eyes were wide and desperate. “I want you, all of you.” 

“Goddamn,” he groaned, looking back between your legs and pushing inside slowly. “You want me to fill this tight little pussy up, that it?” 

You moaned and nodded, frantic. 

“Want me to fuck you ’til you milk me dry?” He asked, his hands on your thighs again, holding you open to him. “’Til every drop of me is in this sweet cunt, that what you want?” 

“Yes, fuck, please, Joel,” you were almost squirming below him, chest heaving. “I want it, I want you, please, please…” 

Fuck, he loved hearing you say that. He sank the rest of the way inside you then, buried to the root, the head of him brushing against that soft and tender place at the back of your channel that he loved so fucking much. You clenched around him and he gritted his teeth, fighting to keep from coming. He hadn’t had enough of you yet, he couldn’t finish the second he got to be inside you, he couldn’t. 

But he was so focused on not coming, he let the rest of himself go, not thinking, just saying what he wanted. 

“Want me to fuck you full of my come?” He asked, starting to move inside you, slow but firm, your tits bouncing when he bottomed out inside you. “Want me to fuck my baby into you?” 

He realized what he said the moment it was out of his mouth and the moment of panic kept his orgasm at bay. But before he had a chance to take it back, you were nodding again, sharp and needy. 

“Please, please,” you said. “I want it, I want your come, I want you to fill me up, I want you to make me pregnant please Joel, fuck, please please please, I need… I need…” 

“Fuck baby,” he covered your body with his, his cock pressed deep and sure inside, grinding against that sensitive place at the back of you. He kissed and sucked at your throat, teeth grazing over your skin and he fought the animalistic urge to mark you in some way so the whole fucking world knew you were his. “Goddamn, I wanna fill you up. I’ll fill you up, fill you up so fuckin’ good.” 

Your hips rocked below his, desperate for more and he started to fuck into you, less pulling back from you to slam in again and more moving in fractions of inches, grinding himself in deep and hard and working those tender places inside you he knew made you come harder than any other. 

“Gonna give you every,” he thrust harder. “Fuckin’.” Ground himself into you. “Drop.” 

“Joel,” you groaned, your nails digging into his back as you clutched him close, your body moving in time with his, perfect rhythm between you. 

“Gonna come so deep in you,” he panted into your ear. “Gonna do it again and again ’til it takes, ’til you’re always fuckin’ full of me.” 

Your pussy tightened over him and you moaned, beyond words it seemed, and he reached down to hold your thigh, anchor himself deeper, angle you better so your clit was pressed more firmly against him, fingers pressed so deep into your skin like he could become a part of your very being if he just tried hard enough. 

“One more,” he panted, kissing the sensitive skin below your ear. “Gimme one more and then I’ll give you what you want. Gonna give you a baby, make you a mama, c’mon, gimme one more and…” 

You cried out, your orgasm stronger than he’d ever felt, damn near choking his cock as your channel rippled over him. 

“That’s right, take it baby,” he said, only half aware of the shit he was saying. “Take what’s yours, come while I put my baby in this sweet fuckin’ pussy, that’s it, fuck!” 

He came then, the head of his cock against the mouth of your womb, every clench of your muscles pulling more and more come from him and emptying it into you. He came so hard his head spun and swam, visions of you pregnant and you holding a baby with his eyes and your mouth and you watching him as he read to a toddler that was just as mouthy as you everywhere. 

He collapsed on top of you when he was done, too wrung out to not, and you held him, panting for breath, fingers twisting in his shirt before he managed the strength to move so he wasn’t crushing you. He kissed you as he pulled out of you, the combination of your come and his thick and tying your bodies together even as he pulled away. He lay beside you, still trying to catch his breath, trying to wrap his head around what the two of you had just done. Even if it didn’t take - even if you weren’t pregnant - it didn’t seem like things would stay the same after that. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking at him, an oddly soft expression on his face. “You?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m a hell of a lot better than good.” 

You smiled at that, wide and honest enough that it made his heart swell. 

“We should probably talk about all of that though,” he said. “If… if you meant it.” 

“I did,” you said, reaching over to toy with his curls. “Did you?” 

He smiled back. 

“Every word, mama,” he said, kissing you reaching down to cup your stomach over your womb. “Every damn word.” 

A/N: Sometimes I need a little pure smut.

As a treat.

[arcane-fox]

Don’t Make Me Ask Again

DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.2k WC | AO3

Summary: Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences. (A filthy PWP for your merriment)

Warnings: DBF!Joel, Undisclosed age gap (but its pretty big, reader is college aged and Joel is late 40’s/50’s), Dubcon, Finger Fucking, Edging, Somnophelia, Cum Play, Masturbation, Depravity. Joel is an asshole.

Notes: Huge thank you to @whocaresstillthelouvre for being an outstanding beta editor. Also huge thanks to @magpiepills for reading and giving me courage.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You knew you were playing with fire, but it didn’t stop you. In fact, the taboo of it all gave you a high that you couldn’t stop chasing.

Once you caught him looking at you it was game on.  

You were home for summer break and found out that your dad’s new buddy also happened to be irresistibly handsome. He was always over at your dad’s house. Having a beer (or six) together after work or sitting by the pool on a hot evening, watching whatever game was on. He lived just down the street, so it was nothing for him to come over. He would even spend the night often enough, falling asleep on the couch after too many drinks or a game that went too late. 

He was a total asshole too, just like your dad. You liked the challenge. It gave you something to do while being stuck there all summer.

Night after night you shot those flirty eyes at him. Teasing. Dangling yourself in front of him when your dad wasn’t looking. Wearing the sluttiest of outfits and brushing up against him whenever he was in the way of where you suddenly needed to be. Sure, he was polite being a guest in your house, but he firmly removed himself whenever you got too close. 

You saw how he’d look away with a flushed face. How his jeans would tighten whenever you bent over in front of him to tie up your hair. How he’d stir in his seat when you were teasing him with your suggestive conversations on the phone that you knew he was within earshot of.       

You wondered how far you could push him before he couldn’t help but put his hands on you. 

You never thought he would actually do it. It was all harmless fun to pass the time.

Sooner or later you were going to find out.

Tonight was it. 

–

He hovered over you, caging you against the bed. He was still fully clothed except for his unzipped jeans with his cock straining against his boxers. 

“Gonna teach you a lesson,” he grunts as he pulls out his thick cock and it slaps against your stomach. It was already swollen as he stroked it and sat back, straddling your waist. 

He was massive and you eyed him with an insatiable want. His gorgeous, girthy shaft complimented his firm and broad body. The greys lining his patchy beard matched the messy thatch that trailed up to his lower belly and disappeared under his shirt. He was easily several decades older than you. Time had been kind to him, rewarding him with a body that just got better with age.

And you did want him. You wanted him badly. You thought about him night after night while you got yourself off. Now that he was on top of you in your own bed you had to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

But he really was such an asshole. Holding his cock in his hand in front of you to tease and watching your eyes widen with want.

“Nah, you ain’t getting this. Not for how you been actin’,” he scolds as he shifts his weight off of you and kneels between your legs.

You're lying in front of him, helpless and fully at his mercy, wearing just an oversized t-shirt and some modest cotton panties that are lacey around the waistband. Eyes still hazy from being abruptly woken up in the middle of the night. You weren’t exactly expecting company. 

Your bedroom wasn’t very dark with the streetlight peering in your window and the full moon bathing you both in its radiance. 

He uses his knees to press your legs open and make room for himself as he drags his free hand down your thigh, pushing you open wider. You don’t know what his exact intentions are but you know he is the one in control.

“Joel…” you whine, and he doesn’t like that. 

“What are you gonna do, call for daddy?” he taunts. “Let him see what a slut his little girl is?” He stops and looks between your legs, dragging his finger along the seam of your panties. “And how you’re dripping for my cock?” 

No, you weren’t going to do anything but take what he gave you and he knew it. 

He sits up between your parted legs and looks down at your pathetic, needy body begging to be filled up. 

He pumps his cock. “Show me,” he demands, mid-stroke. The way his wrist flicks as he tugs on his shaft is mesmerizing.

He sits back on his legs while you shimmy out of your panties and toss your shirt onto the floor. As you lay back on the mattress his eyes scan over you, taking in your perfect breasts and the softness of your youthful skin. 

He lets go of his cock and leans down, putting his face right in your cunt. You can feel his hot breath hovering just above your clit but he is careful not to touch. You writhe towards him, begging for some friction. He gives you nothing.

He smiles a wicked smile as he picks his head up to look at you. His eyes lock with yours and you can see the darkness spreading over him. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and he was taking great pleasure in this payback. 

He crawls back over you slowly, letting his cock press against you as he hovers face to face again. His broadness caging you in and sending shivers through your body at the sight of his dominance. 

He uses his hand to engulf your own and guides it to your clit, pressing your fingertips into it and rubbing. He never loses eye contact with you, studying the way your mouth hangs open as he forces your hand.

A moan escapes your lips at his perverse control over you. His throbbing heat searing into you, daring you to grind against him. And oh how badly you want to take the bait.  

“Show me how you touch yourself, little slut.” His voice is intimidatingly low and gravelly. He lets up the pressure on your hand once he is convinced you will play along.   

He maneuvers back down the bed to get a better view as you circle your clit. He grabs your legs roughly and pulls you up close to him so they are wide open and hanging over his thighs. His swollen cock standing at full attention just inches from you. Just out of reach. A tease. A prize if you play his game. You slow down your movements, as you start to feel the heat inside you surging. 

“Sweetheart, you can do better than that,” he taunts as he pulls off his shirt, generously giving you more of his body to drink in. The ridges in his lean muscles catching the moonlight. He looks sinfully delicious and you ache for his body against yours. You want to make him happy, give him a reason to reward you with his touch. 

He leans forward and puts his weight is on his palms just by your hips, his cock pushing against your wet hole. His broadness looming over you. Leering at your neediness. The sight of him. The feel of his spongy head knocking at your entrance. It was too much. 

It was embarrassing. Degrading. It turned you on. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” he threatens, grabbing your hand again. “Wanna see you stuff that pretty hole.” He pushes two of your fingers together and brings them to his mouth, sucking them slowly and getting them good and wet. It sends shivers through your body imagining that mouth on your pussy instead.

He’s rougher this time, guiding your hand back down to your entrance. You can sense his patience running out. He pushes your pliant fingers inside without warning, fucking you in and out. Slow and hard. Until he lets go and watches you take over.

You can see from the glint in his eyes how much it is turning him on, watching you finger yourself in front of him was intoxicating to him. Your innocent moans singing into his ears. 

“Those pitiful little hands can’t get shit done” he grunts, dragging his hand up your thigh and curling around your stomach. The rough pads of his fingertips leave you trembling in their wake as he drags them lower.

He pulls your hand from its warm haven and eyes your swollen clit, begging for touch. He presses his thumb into it and circles it, making you moan. Finally giving you something. 

“Please…” you beg. Eager to feel him on you.

“Needy thing.” He stops circling and brings his hand lower, dragging his middle finger along your entrance and then spreading his fingers through your slick. 

“Go ahead.” He positions your hand around his and presses his middle and index fingers together like a gun. “You can use mine,” he commands. 

You realize he still isn’t going to fuck you. No, he wants you to move his hand and use his body to get off. He knew you would do it too because he was making you so desperate for any way to release. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him towards your entrance. Your other hand grips just above his watch in a desperate attempt to hold on. 

You are already so close, your body sucks him inside. The thickness feels so good as your pussy stretches to take him. You wince as you take in more and more of him, underestimating how thick he is. Everything about Joel Miller is so damn thick.  

“Goddamn you’re tight” he smiles crookedly as he feels your walls clamping onto him as you thrust him in and out.

You can sense a shift in the room that's palpable. He was having his fun with you, but he was getting greedy. Getting off on watching you struggle to take his fingers. He wanted to stuff you with his cock and show you what a real tight fit is, but he has no intention of giving you that satisfaction. You had to learn a lesson about teasing. 

He couldn’t resist curling his fingers inside you, prodding at your fleshy walls. Your hand was still around his but he was the one moving it now. His free hand rapidly stroking his length, thumbing over the swollen tip and God you need him so badly.

“Joel, please!” you beg. 

You are on the edge, ready to come harder than you ever have before. 

“Bet you can’t handle three,” he challenges, giving you no time to respond. He’s already decided it's happening whether you want it to or not. You do want it. You want anything he will give you. 

He groans as he adds a third finger and you flinch at the stretch. You hold  onto his forearm for dear life as his fingers fuck into you hard while he fucks into his own fist.

Now he can’t help himself from taking over entirely. He thrusts into you, deeper and deeper. Feeling your walls convulse around him as you reach your limit.

Finally he gives you permission.

“Come. Come now,” he snarls at you. Your orgasm has you gasping for breath as he relentlessly fingers you through it, chasing his own release. You soak his fingers and moan his name, your walls fluttering around him. Your nails claw into his skin, as you’re fucked out and overwhelmed by sweet ecstasy.

He comes hard and loud and you are certain your dad is passed out drunk since he hasn’t broken down your door yet. 

Joel’s hot spend hits your stomach and pussy. There is so much of it, he paints you in his release. Claiming you. 

A primal need surges inside him, desperate to leave you with his seed. You see the shift in his eyes and he can’t stop himself. His cum drips and pools around his knuckles as he fucks it inside you in a frenzy, needing his  spend as deep as his fingers will let him. 

“Joel, fuck,” you protest at the initial shock of what he is doing. He doesn’t even ask if you are protected, he just uses his brute force to thrust his cum inside. 

It’s obscene.

And it feels so good. You are as depraved as he is. You welcome him inside your body wanting more, swallowing up whatever he gives you as you come down from your high. 

His cum leaks out of you as he withdraws his fingers, but he stuffs as much back into your gaping hole as he can until his primal drive wanes. 

He gets off the bed and puts his shirt back on, leaving you laying there in his mess. 

“Next time you pull that shit again, I’ll make you sorry.” he threatens as he zips up his pants.

You smile in the dark and close your legs tightly, feeling the ache from his rough touch.

“I’m counting on it.”

Dividers @anitalenia / Banner by me

WIP Taglist: @lotusbxtch @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @megangovier @vickie5446 @baronessvonglitter @covetyou @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @getitoutofmymindwrites @giowritess @almostfoxglove

Tagging fellow Joel girlies and mutuals I hope will enjoy this or know a friend who might 🙏🏻 Please anytime if you don’t want to be tagged just let me know. Thank you and love you all 🩷

@pedgito @slimybeth69 @syd-djarin @wheresarizona @frannyzooey @jolapeno @joelsdagger @joelmillerisapunk @for-a-longlongtime @tightjeansjavi @bonezone44 @wethairjoel @fuckyeahdindjarin @beefrobeefcal @aurorawritestoescape @beardedjoel @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity @galaxyedging @perotovar @pearlessance @pedropeach @cavillscurls @sawymredfox @moonlitbirdie @mothandpidgeon @604to647 @yourcoolauntie @jessthebaker @ozarkthedog @iamasaddie @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @itwasntimethatdidit40 @sin-djarin @schnarfer

[lunarcowgirl]

feelings unfettered | three

I am a helpless victim of my own crush on this man, take a part three of my goofy little jack abbot x f!doctor!reader fic <33

you can read part one here, and part two here !!

not my gif! but i am foaming at the mouth because of it! follow @ho-ii for all your juicy jack abbot gif needs x

~

yeah, there's something in the air at your shared post-confession breakfast. and it's not just 50 years worth of oil from the diner fryer.

~

from the office of the author: literally obsessed with my own creations so I've made a part three. it's not my fault, blame shawn and his facial structure and chosen character aura of dork/loser/demon-in-the-sheets. more soon? i'm scared of smut but then again i'm scared of not seeing these two get freaky

REQUESTS IN THE ASK BOX PLS!!!

warnings/content: 10+ year age gap, very EaRNEST feelings from these two, mentions of the horrors of american foods, author disrespects consistent perspective and grammatical rules like they owe her money, veryyyy minimal angst, mostly fluff, someone gets a their ass grabbed as a treat <33

word count: 2.6k (woooo baby we're back)

Dr Abbot considered himself to be in control of his own hands at all times and places thank you very much. He had over 30 years of experience in the profession of control. He had studied it, mastered it. It was not his fault that just 20 minutes prior to this moment your lips had been at his throat and your body so very soft under his touch. Now the mere two feet of sticky diner table between the two of you seemed an ocean. Would it be so strange, he pondered, to pull your chair around to be beside him? To bump knees and elbows into each other, for plates to stack and glasses to get mixed up in the bubble of space carved just for the two of you? He coughed slightly at the path of his own brain, embarrassed at the enormity of his feelings.

You were focused on the menu, eyes ticking down the options with care, lips formed into a rosebud pout. Jack wanted to crawl across the divide and kiss you silly, to taste the sweetness and the redness and to hear your heartbeat’s call from your throat. He wanted to feel that fizzing life under his hands, he wanted you to laugh your laugh into his mouth so he could swallow it whole, he wanted—

The shrill screech of a pack of kids attempting a prison break called him swiftly to earth, their poor father one poorly timed arm barrier away from a dislocated shoulder. He really, really, didn’t want to have to be a doctor right now. In fact, it seemed mighty appealing to give up the healing business altogether and put all his energy into memorising every last thing there was to know about you. Some dam wall within him had broken up on the roof, now every truth he’d covered up and hidden and repressed now sitting out in the unfettered daylight. It was terrifying…and exhilarating.

“I can never decide between sweet and savoury when it comes to breakfast.” You declared, slamming the menu down in a huff.

An endeared smile twitched at the corner of Jack’s mouth. He filed the information away, “Why not have both?”

Your eyebrows raised just a touch, a smirk appearing, “Why Dr Abbot, what a dangerous proposition…”

Jack shrugged, if only to dislodge the growing warmth in his chest, “When was the last time you ate? Your body could do with the carbs and sugar.”

In a flash your hand was across the table, grabbing his and raising it to your mouth. Two quick kisses were pressed to his knuckles, “Finally, a man that supports women’s right to choose both.”

You bit your bottom lip at your own cheek, winked and carefully deposited his hand back to him in exchange for the menu once more.

Oh God he was going to eat. You. Alive. You looked so innocent, as you kindly waved over a waitress, ordering in a clear, polite voice. What he wouldn’t give to have that polite mouth all over him.

For two people who had spent more time in uniform than either would like to admit, you had vastly different approaches to the return to American food. Jack had remained staunch in his habits, maintaining his belief that well-done toast with bacon and eggs was all a person really needed. Butter, perhaps, if one felt luxurious. You on the other hand, had spent each and every moment on foreign soil waiting for the moment you could feel the preservatives hit your veins again.

“I don’t care that I’m a doctor,” You said, smoothing cream across your already syrup soaked waffle, “If food cannot hold pleasure, then neither can life.”

Jack had finished his meal in a flash, eating like he was being chased. Now he had all the time in the world to lean back and watch you, noting and labelling every pronouncement and observation you made, filing them away in a little part of his mind that until now, he hadn’t allowed himself to open.

You took a big bite, nose scrunching in delight, shoulders dancing at an amount of sugar running through your system that would likely kill a small child. Jack was keeping a very firm hold on his own elbows, fingers digging into the skin to prevent it from falling straight off his bones. There was syrup, right in the corner of your mouth that you hadn’t noticed, lost in your own ecstasy.

The older he’d become, the easier is was to just surrender. To drift. His hand swept across the table in one smooth motion, his thumb finding your skin, wiping the sugar away. Your eyes flew open, surprise bright and red and hot on your cheeks. One soft blink, another - like you were seeing him for the very first time. His touch lingered there, drawing a soft reverent line across your bottom lip, relishing the fullness of it. If he couldn’t have those lips on his face, his neck and mouth, then he’d have them all over his fingers. It was barely a thought then, to draw back and bring his thumb into his own mouth. The man that never even looked sideways at sugar having his fill of it, and you.

There was something unreadable on your face as your gaze flicked across him, hunger maybe, hope. And then the flash of your tongue across your lip - finding just the remnants of him there, the butter he’d had on them from picking apart his toast. You feasted on each other from opposite sides of the table, rolling tastes across your tongue, finding them satisfactory, finding them addicting. If the appetizers where this good; the main meal was set to fill an empty stomach that had ached for a long, long time.

Waffle forgotten, Jack watched as you dived into your purse, rustling out a haphazard chunk of bills, tucking them quickly under the nearest plate.

“Wait, I’ll pay—”

“If we do not leave right now,” You hissed, “I am going to jump you in front of those very nice families.”

Jack made a bizarre croaking noise, his laugh getting lost somewhere in a cough. All the same, he dutifully rose to his feet, only somehow remembering to grab his backpack and coat. The pair of your writhed down the tight aisle towards the door, struggling to bundle up, not make any unnecessary contact with each other or send coffee flying into anyone’s laps. Bursting into the street, your head twisted this way and that, as if you couldn’t quite remember where you were or what you were supposed to be doing.

“Hey, hey…” Jack reached your side, gently taking your hand in his, “It’s ok, there’s no rush.”

You let out a slow breath, dancing from foot to foot, “Well we might have to rush, cause I don’t have gloves and I kinda need my fingers for work.”

Jack smiled, the biggest one you’d seen, “Well then hand the others over.” With both of your hands in his he pulled you gently to him, lifting your important doctoring tools to his mouth. Warm air blew across them, quickly followed by heat down your arms and into your chest and heart.

This close to him, so bundled up and protected and safe, you let a truth fall out onto the iced pavement.

“I’m scared you’re going to disappear.”

Jack frowned, moving your hands aside so they remained warm pressed against his face, “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” You shuffled nervously under the intensity of his gaze, “I hate to get into it all in the immense privacy offered by this public street.”

He cocked an eyebrow in subtle amusement but didn’t say a word, silently urging you on.

“You have a bit of a record of running hot and cold. And while this is obviously the hottest you’ve ever been, and I really mean that in all senses of the word, well…” You fought for the right words, wanting desperately not to push him away, but wanting to honour the twin desire of respecting your own heart.

Jack nodded slowly, letting the faint grey stubble rasp gently across your hands, “That makes a lot of sense.”

A breath you hadn’t realised you were holding released, the desire to run melted into nothingness, your feet stilled.

“I am sorry for being so…unreadable all this time. It was my own selfish way of keeping myself protected while also getting to have tastes of you,” He offered, eyes a little sad.

You just couldn’t help it, the vulnerability of his gorgeous, perpetually cranky man was going to have you on your knees.

He ploughed on, oblivious to the effect his words were having, “It’s not that the tastes weren’t good or that I didn’t want more…they were too good. Too powerful, too…” He shrugged, “fucking scary.”

Tears were threatening to make a fool of you, so you quickly popped onto your tip toes, lips now seeking the warmth of his own. He relinquished his hold on your hands to slide his fingers to the back of your neck and around your waist, drawing you up and up and up until you thought you would float out into space.

Behind you the door crashed open, spilling dozens of children out into the street, rushing to get to school, their parents furiously clucking and scolding and shooing them along. Caught in the swarm, the pair of you clung to each other, cheeks pressed tightly together to maintain some kind of mutual centre of gravity.

“Ok,” You laughed, “Now I seriously have to get you alone.”

Jack gently extracted himself so he could face you again, his large hands still encasing yours.

“As much as I want that…and believe me—,” His eyes were dark, “I want that—I think we should take this slow.”

You ducked your head, something that felt like embarrassment churning in your gut. You were the one just expressing fear at his intentions, and now you were surprised he didn’t want to take you in the street?

He took your chin gently and lifted your eyes up to meet his. So many times, you had found that gaze across a trauma table, something horrible and twisted stretched out between you, so many times you had found trust and respect and understanding in those eyes. They never failed to steady you, then and now.

“I would like to take you out sometime. Somewhere other than the diner across the street from the train station,” He said, earnestness clear in each word.

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“You can call me old fashioned,” He said, smile wide, “I don’t care — I’m old.”

You reached up and took his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing across his skin that had seen and weathered a lot of grief and pain. You were ready to show him some joy.

“I’d love that,” Came your simple reply, “And you might be old, but that means you’re wise. And there’s nothing sexier than a man with wisdom.”

He scoffed, wrestling you playfully down under his arm, lightly pinching your side until you shrieked with laughter and danced away.

“You are trouble.” He called, as you skipped away from him, “Trouble!”

In the end he caught you before you could dash up to the train platform, insisting again that his old-fashioned ways wouldn’t allow him to let you take public transport when he had a perfectly good passenger seat in his truck.

You curled comfortably up in the leather, relishing the seat warmer and Jack’s hand sandwiched between both of yours on your lap. Every now and then, you’d peek over your shoulder just so you could see your backpacks sitting next to each other in the backseat. You felt altogether giddy, and at peace - completely beside yourself with your luck.

“It wasn’t luck,” Jack said, eyes not shifting from the road, his free hand placed with precision at 2 o’clock on the wheel. You had said the words aloud without realising, your heart now altogether open.

“Well it feels like luck.” You replied, gently tracing the lines on the back of Jack’s hand. “Very nice dorsal metacarpel veins by the way.”

He let out a puff of a laugh, then repeated himself, “It wasn’t luck.”

“Then what was it, did I subconsciously bewitch you with the speed of my oxygen concentration calculations?”

“They are very impressive; you are way fucking quicker than I will ever be at them. But no,” He looked over at you, “It’s because you are brave.”

You returned to your tracing, but it was difficult to find the lines with tears in your eyes.

“You never let your mistakes define you, you are brave enough to try again. You choose to keep being happy, you are brave enough to keep fighting. You kept seeing something in me, even when I wasn’t brave enough to let you in.”

“Jesus,” You muttered, “This is why you never talk; you’d have people falling to their knees for you every minute of the day.”

His hand in your lap squeezed, “No, that didn’t just come from nowhere. I’ve been thinking those things for a long, long time.”

“You are worth being brave for,” Your words were quiet, but they felt heavy and steady in the space between you both.

You looked up and realised with a start you had made it to your street, your apartment building just a few feet in front of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up? After that speech the least I can do is offer you a tea?”

He reached over and tucked a piece of hair that had escaped from your braid behind your ear, careful not to bump your still healing piercing, “You don’t want me snoring on your couch, which is what I will be doing before the tea cools.”

“No,” You said, returning the favour by tucking a curl behind his ear, “I want you snoring in my bed.”

“God dammit James,” He groaned leaning back into his seat and running his hands over his face, “You are gonna kill me, I swear to God.”

“Don’t sound so—” A yawn overtook your words, “—pleased.”

He gave you a pointed look, “If we’re gonna do this, let’s at least be awake for it.”

You unclipped yourself, leant back into the backseat for your bag (sure to give Jack a full and unobstructed view of your favourite personal asset) and turned to open your door. At the last moment, you twisted back to him, face set.

He raised his eyebrows, a slightly braced smirk sitting on his face.

“If you’re not going to accept a lady’s very polite invitation upstairs then you legally have to do me a favour.”

The eyebrows shot down over a suspecting set of narrowed eyes, “This sounds dangerous.”

“Not at all,” You grinned, “Although…I thought you liked danger.”

“Like I said, you’re gonna kill me.”

“I’ve worked a tough shift Jack. A tough night shift. A girl sometimes needs a little extra something to give her the energy to make it up the front stairs.”

You leaned in with each word, letting your hand trail down his arm from his shoulder until you clasped around his wrist. Mouths inches from each other, you breathed in his anticipation, his hunger.

In one smooth motion you brought his hand to your ass, and closed your lips over his.

Something that tasted awfully like a moan slipped from his tongue to yours, and you relished each little bit of it. His hand squeezed, just a touch, as if unable to help itself. You released him with a pop, schooling your features into an innocent smile, and nudging the door open with your hip.

“I’ll see you at work Dr Abbot.”

A beat. A man restarting his heart, his brain.

“I’ll see you at work Trouble.”

~~~~

all for now, thanks for the luv xo

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[onceinablueberrymoon]

stick to the plan | husband!salesman x mom!reader

the final parts are up! there are two possible endings: swan lake and nocturne no. 2. take your pick -- it's a 50-50 chance :) scenario: gi-hun and the loan shark group have been searching for the salesman for almost two years now. you and your son had occasionally come to help them in their search, but to no avail. one day, your husband gets an order to get rid of gi-hun because of his incessant probing. you have no choice but to obey, even against your will. setting: during the events of season 2, episode 1! ; set one year after the name game; you can find the other parts to the series in my masterlist! warnings: fem!reader; mom!reader; dad!salesman; deception; lots of guilt; is this angst? it’s definitely guilt tho; recruiter is called salesman; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 3.9k notes: thank you all for waiting! this took me much longer than expected, but it’s definitely my longest chapter for this series so far! as this takes place almost entirely within season 2, episode 1, i pulled quite a bit of dialogue from the show. however, this is all in second person POV, so it’s only what reader sees. i really enjoyed writing this part, and i sincerely hope you enjoy reading it! also, there will be two endings (and possibly a third) for this series. one which remains canon, and the other which… doesn’t, lol. i hope to release them at the same time, so please stay tuned! ik i don't post gifs usually but doesn't he look so soft in this gif i just had to use it (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) borders by @enchanthings-a and the gif is from @lenoirexv!

One year later.

“All packed?”

You asked your husband as you zipped up your purse. 

“Almost.” He called from across the bedroom. He was in front of his safe, grabbing piles of ddakji tiles and money and carefully placing them in a suitcase. The last few tiles and stacks of money went into his briefcase. 

Once you were finished organizing your belongings, you walked over to the crib in the corner of the room. Min-seok looked up at you, a shy smile on his face. You lifted him up, mentally checking off your list: he had already been fed, changed, and dressed. Looking around the bedroom, you saw all the packed suitcases and bags scattered on the floor and on the bed. Everything was ready.

A sigh escaped your lips. You had been planning this day for a while now. 

According to your husband, the Frontman had been somewhat concerned with Gi-hun’s persistent actions. As recruitment for the Games was almost finished, he had ordered your husband to eliminate Gi-hun. What “eliminate” meant, you weren’t exactly sure, but you knew it couldn’t be good. While you were close to Gi-hun, you knew this friendship couldn’t last forever, especially since it was built on lies. You were loyal to your job, your husband, and now your son too. You couldn’t throw that away for a friendship. Even so, the gnawing feeling of guilt clawed at your insides.

You kissed the top of your son’s head before tucking him in his stroller. He let out a small giggle. 

“Mini, have fun with your dad today, alright?” You said sweetly. 

Walking over to your husband, you patted him lightly on the chest. 

“Be safe. If you put my baby in danger, I’ll kill you.” You narrowed your eyes and your husband put his hands up in surrender. “I believe you.”

Your husband wrapped his arms around you before pecking you on the lips. 

“I’ll start loading the bags.” He turned to pick up his briefcase.

“Wait,” you stopped him. “You’re sure there’ll be someone that can take us to the island?” 

Your husband gave you a soft smile, placing the briefcase down before taking your hands in his. “We’ve been over this. Captain Park will meet us at the pier to escort us to the island.” He played with the wedding ring on your finger. “We’ll only be there for a short while. Just until the Frontman deems it safe to return.”  

You bit your lip. Even though you reviewed the plan dozens of times before, you couldn’t shake your anxiety.

“What if…” You paused, your voice choking suddenly. “What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to you? Or me? Or-” Your husband grabbed the sides of your arms roughly, almost making your body shake. 

“Nothing will go wrong.” His tone was harsh. “I won’t allow it.” He let go of you and rubbed his hands up and down your arms as if to apologize for hurting you.

He sighed and ran his hand through his neatly styled hair. “Everything will go according to plan. Play your role correctly and everything will return to normal soon.” He picked up his briefcase and one of the suitcases and left the bedroom.

You stood there in silence, your mind racing. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. 

‘This will all be over soon,’ you thought. ‘Everything will return to normal soon...’

The problem: you didn’t even know what ‘normal’ looked like anymore.

"Jonggak. Jonggak Station."

The voiceover announced the name of the subway station. Checking your phone, you realized this was your stop.

You stepped off the train onto the platform, where you spotted two familiar figures.

“Hey!” You called, waving to Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who were seated on a bench. 

Upon seeing you, they waved back. As you approached them, you noticed them eating sandwiches and kimbap. You sat down next to Woo-seok and he held a sandwich out for you to take.

“Thank you, I’m starving,” you said as you unwrapped the packaging.

“No Min-seok?” Woo-seok asked, looking for any sign of your son who sometimes accompanied you. 

“His father’s taking care of him today,” you replied with a smile.

Gi-hun and the others had fallen in love with your little boy from the moment they met him. While your husband was skeptical of you introducing your son to literal loan sharks, you had assured him that everything would be fine. You and Min-seok had quickly befriended Mr. Kim after visiting Gi-hun at his hotel the day he happened to be visiting. Everyone was smitten once they saw your son, and Mr. Kim and Woo-seok were no exception. Min-seok was a sweetheart who loved to be held by everyone, and his laughter was infectious. 

You volunteered to help in the search for the salesman, which Gi-hun initially declined for your safety. But as the search continued for months with no progress, Gi-hun suggested you go with Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who could protect you if things went awry.

“Anything exciting today?” You asked as you dug into your sandwich. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok shook their heads.

“I know Mr. Seong is your friend,” Woo-seok said, “But how much of his story do you actually believe?” He turned to Mr. Kim. “We’ve been searching every subway station in the city all summer, but no one’s ever seen the guy.”

Mr. Kim nodded his head. “Seong Gi-hun may be crazy, but he wouldn’t waste billions on looking for someone who doesn’t exist. He’s onto something.”

Woo-seok ran his hand over his face. “Boss, we’ve been searching these stations for the past two years. Not days, years! Two whole years.” He laughed, “My wife says I should find that salesman, go play those games myself, and win 45.6 billion won. If someone were playing ddakji down here, we would’ve found hi-”

Smack.

All three of you turned to look across the platform.

Stunned, the two men stood up in confusion. There the salesman was, playing ddakji against a man wearing a bucket hat. Next to them, away from the playing area, was Min-seok’s stroller. Once the salesman slapped the other man, Mr. Kim and Woo-seok looked at each other, eyes wide. All you could do was watch the spectacle as you ate your sandwich quietly. The man with the bucket hat won two rounds in a row. Before he forgot, Mr. Kim pulled out his phone to call Gi-hun.

“We’ve found the guy. It’s him,” Mr. Kim spoke. You couldn’t hear what Gi-hun said, but you were sure he was shocked too.

“The ddakji, slapping, and money. Just like you said.” You saw the salesman give the man with the bucket hat a business card. “He’s handing over the card now.”

A beat, then Mr. Kim said, “We’re at Jonggak Station.” He paused. “By the way, you never said the guy had a kid?”

You could faintly hear Gi-hun’s sound of confusion from your spot on the bench.

“He has a stroller with him. I’m not su- He’s leaving. Please hurry.” Mr. Kim hung up and gestured for you and Woo-seok to follow him. 

Even though the salesman took the elevator because of the stroller, he was still faster than you. You followed him out of the subway station and to a couple stores before finally arriving at Tapgol Park.

‘Ah,’ you thought. ‘One of his favourites.’

It was no surprise to you that your husband needed to release some pent-up stress from time-to-time. He liked to go to parks frequented by the homeless and play a game of bread or lottery. On the rare occasion that the majority of the people chose the buns, he would be satisfied, telling you that maybe there was some hope left in the world after all.

As the salesman started his rounds, you, Mr. Kim, and Woo-seok settled on a bench near the main gazebo, hiding your faces behind pages of a random newspaper you found. You laughed in your mind. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok were horrible stalkers. Even if you weren’t there, there’s no way your husband wouldn’t notice them. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

You noticed that some people were attracted to the stroller the salesman was pushing, peering into the bassinet to have a look at the baby. You supposed it made your husband seem more trustworthy. He had his usual smiling expression on his face. He moved from one person to the next, offering them a bun or a lottery scratcher.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Mr. Kim asked. “Maybe he’s a good guy.” Woo-seok said, confused. 

You all continued to watch the salesman as he went around and offered the same options to all the homeless people in the park. Once he had completed his rounds, he went to the centre of the park in front of the gazebo and placed his bags down.

“How come he’s not giving us one?” Mr. Kim looked slightly offended. 

‘Maybe cause you look so suspicious,’ you thought, but said nothing.

Everyone turned to look at the salesman as he dumped both bags of buns onto the ground. 

‘Here we go,’ you thought, bracing for people’s reactions.

Just as one man was about to pick up a bun, the salesman stepped on it, digging his heel in to squish the bread. Everyone’s faces dropped, including Mr. Kim and Woo-seok’s. Then, he started jumping and stomping on all the buns. You had to stifle your laughter — sometimes your husband was just so funny! Everyone was too stunned to move. Mr. Kim whipped out his phone to record the incident, probably to show Gi-hun later. The salesman truly looked like a madman, slipping and sliding over the crushed packages of bread before kicking them. After he had finished his tantrum, he straightened his jacket and ran his hands over his face, before finally tucking his tie into his jacket like nothing had happened.

Everyone was still reeling from what they had just witnessed when a whine emerged from the stroller next to the salesman. Your heart sank. Min-seok started fussing, his whines quickly becoming cries. You tried to mask the pained look on your face as a pang of guilt hit you for not being able to soothe your baby. 

The salesman picked Min-seok up from the bassinet and started rocking him gently, much to the shock of everyone watching. With the exception of your son’s crying, the park was silent. You turned to look at Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who looked utterly dumbfounded at what they were witnessing. Thankfully, you were seated far away enough that they couldn’t tell that the baby was your son. 

After being comforted by his father, Min-seok’s cries quieted down and the salesman placed him back in his stroller. Wearing a polite smile on his face, the salesman picked up his briefcase and pushed the stroller out of the park. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok broke out of their trance and scrambled to follow him, with you not far behind. 

Ahead of you, the salesman hailed a taxi. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok hid behind one of the pillars of the park entrance, watching him as he carefully detached Min-seok’s bassinet from the stroller before loading the rest of the stroller in the trunk. 

As the taxi drove off, Woo-seok hurriedly ran out to the street to hail your own taxi. Jumping into the car, he gestured for the driver to follow the taxi the salesman took, even offering to pay him double. You sped away, the car weaving in and out of traffic.

Mr. Kim took out his phone to call Gi-hun.

“Where are you? Are you coming?” He asked once Gi-hun picked up. “This guy’s a total nutcase! He’s in a cab now, we’re following him. Hurry!” He hung up. 

“Is he on his way?” You asked Mr. Kim. He nodded, “I’m not sure where he is, but he should catch up soon.”

After driving for some time, the car turned onto a road in an industrial area. Woo-seok noticed that the salesman was getting out of his taxi, the driver helping him unload the stroller from the trunk.

“I’ll send Seong the address,” Mr. Kim told you as he keyed in the location. “Please drop us off here,” Woo-seok instructed your taxi driver. He took some money out of his wallet and handed it to the driver. You all jumped out of the taxi, moving to hide around the corner of the alleyway the salesman had gone down.

“Where is Mr. Seong?” Woo-seok whispered. “He’ll be here in 10 minutes,” Mr. Kim replied. You all watched the salesman walk down the alley at a leisurely pace. He didn’t seem to notice that he was being trailed. 

Mr. Kim seemed impatient. “We might lose him if we wait. Let’s just get him ourselves.” Woo-seok became nervous. Mr. Kim scoffed, “Are you scared? It’s three against one.” 

You bit your lip. “Shouldn’t we wait for Gi-hun? He could be dangerous.” You suggested, fully knowing they wouldn’t be able to wait that long.

Woo-seok didn’t seem entirely convinced. “It’s just… Something seems off with that guy…” 

Mr. Kim turned to face Woo-seok. “But what if we lose him? What if Seong doesn’t give us the money? It’s a billion won!” Mr. Kim sighed, “Don’t you trust me? I officiated your wedding! Besides, he’s got a baby, he won’t be able to take us all.”

Woo-seok nodded in agreement. You looked unsure as the two men prepared to chase after the salesman, who had just turned a corner.

“Come on, let’s go,” Mr. Kim gestured to you both to follow. You trailed behind the two men as they scampered down the alleyway. 

“Gi-hun told us to wait here!” You whisper-yelled, but the two were long gone. They turned the corner, and you heard them yelling, “Hey, you! Stop!”

Just as you turned the corner, you heard thumps and saw Mr. Kim get launched into a nearby pile of trash. Woo-seok went to help him but was clearly at a disadvantage as he struggled to pull out his pocket knife to defend himself. The salesman entered your view, easily disarming him before using his briefcase to knock both men out.

Once you were sure both men were unconscious, you stepped towards your husband, slowly clapping your hands in applause. He turned in your direction, a smirk forming on his lips.

“I told them to wait for Gi-hun, but they wouldn’t listen.” You shook your head, looking down at the unconscious men. “We can’t just leave them here…” You sighed, then turning to your husband, you raised your eyebrows. “I admit I thought Min-seok would slow you down, but clearly I was mistaken.”

Your husband rested his hands on your hips, pulling you in for a deep kiss. After breaking away, you walked over to the stroller to see your son fast asleep, completely unaware of the commotion that just took place.

Turning back to your husband, you saw him lift Mr. Kim’s body from the pile of trash. He gestured for you to enter the rundown building in front of you. You picked up his briefcase and started pushing the stroller towards the entrance. 

“We should get moving,” you said. “Gi-hun’s on his way.”

A cry shook you from your light snooze. 

You stood up from the armchair you were resting in to soothe your son. Picking him up from the stroller’s bassinet, you rocked him gently, but he continued to whine. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” You tried to nurse him but he refused to latch. Sighing, you realized that he probably just wanted his father. Ironically, the man who frightened most people was the most comforting person to your son. 

You left your room and started making your way down to the other end of the hallway where your husband and the two men were. 

Once outside the room, you heard muffled gasps and screams from behind the door. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok must have finally regained consciousness. 

Pressing Min-seok closer to your chest in an attempt to block out the sounds, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. There the two men were, bound and tied to two chairs facing each other. They had even been gagged with bone-shaped gags. Your husband and the two men turned to face you at the doorway. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok’s eyes widened in shock at seeing you, while your husband seemed puzzled, his eyes softening upon seeing his son.

“Mini needed his dad.” You passed the fussy baby to his father. You avoided eye contact with Mr. Kim and Woo-seok, ignoring their muffled complaints. Looking down at the table in front of you, you saw a revolver and 5 bullets lined in a row. Your breath hitched, your mind suddenly dizzy. It was only then that you realized what game was about to begin. A game that would surely result in death. 

“Min-seok-ah, what’s wrong?” Your husband brought his son up to stare into his eyes, a playful expression on his face. “Did you miss me? Did you miss appa?”

The baby erupted into a fit of giggles. For a split second, you could see a crack in your husband’s façade — a trace of the gentle, loving smile that was only reserved for you and your son.

Even though you knew that Mr. Kim and Woo-seok couldn’t escape their bounds, you suddenly became nervous. They now knew your husband’s weakness: his son. Although there was a slim chance they would leave this room alive, you didn’t want to take any chances.

“I’ll take him back now, he needs to eat.” You opened your arms to receive your son. Before passing him back, your husband kissed the top of your son’s head. He picked up the revolver from the table. Your heart dropped. Soon, Mr. Kim and Woo-seok would be dead. 

“Be gentle with them,” you whispered to your husband. “They’ve been good to me and Min-seok.” You kissed his cheek, knowing your words wouldn’t make a difference.

As you turned to leave, your husband sent a small wave towards your son, his smiling expression betraying the act he was about to commit. You closed the door and retreated to your room. 

You sat back on the armchair and unfastened the buttons of your shirt in preparation to nurse your son. Distantly, you heard classical music and grimaced. Your husband loved to put on a show.

As you fed Min-seok, you gazed down at him lovingly. His eyes were closed as he suckled, a peaceful look on his face. For a moment, all felt right in the world.

Bang!

You tensed at the sound of a gunshot, your grip on Min-seok tightening slightly. Even though the men were at the other end of the hallway, the muffled noise was loud enough to make you flinch. 

Unsurprisingly, Min-seok unlatched himself from your breast and started crying. You let out a heavy sigh, lifting him up to soothe him and rub soft circles on his back. You wished things didn’t have to be this way.

After Min-seok had settled down, you buttoned your shirt up and began organizing your things to leave for Gi-hun’s motel.

The door of the room opened and your husband entered, specks of blood staining his cheek and the collar of his white shirt.

“Ready?” He asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just killed a man.

You nodded, holding Min-seok in one arm and your purse in the other. Your husband helped you pack the stroller and Min-seok’s bag into the car. While your husband went back into the building, you settled Min-seok into his car seat and got in the driver’s seat. To your surprise, your husband returned with a blindfolded and bound Woo-seok, who looked as if he was unconscious. Your husband threw him in the trunk before getting in the back seat with Min-seok to hide. If you somehow passed Gi-hun on the road, he would be looking for your husband, not you.

“Did you get any new information?” You asked as you started the car, hands clutching the steering wheel. 

“We knew most of it already,” your husband replied, “It was quite the exciting game, however. Almost as exciting as the games we play at home.” You groaned. Of course, nothing got him going like the fear of others.

Once you arrived at the motel, you noticed it was starting to rain. You and your husband quickly unloaded Min-seok and Woo-seok from the car. Your husband broke the shabby lock and you all shuffled into the hotel through the back exit. 

Your husband dropped Woo-seok off in a random room while you and Min-seok settled into a room near the back exit.

It was a drafty old motel, with broken furniture and faded wallpaper. You found a table that seemed sturdy enough and placed the bassinet on it. Min-seok stared at you with his big, round eyes that reminded you so much of your husband. At this point, he was truly what kept you going. You lifted him up and began rocking him against your chest. 

“We’re almost done here.” You said more to yourself than to the baby. “Then, we can go somewhere safe and relax.”

Your husband soon entered the room and went to wrap his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest, careful not to crush Min-seok. He rested his head on top of yours.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you whispered, “I don’t think I can face Gi-hun. Now that Mr. Kim is dead, I...” You trailed off. 

Your husband lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes, which showed no trace of fear or remorse. “It had to be done,” he stated plainly. “Unfortunate, yes, but we have to follow the plan. I will deal with 456.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your breathing becoming uneven. “But that game…” Your voice shook. “P-please give him a fair chance. I can’t lose you, but at the same time…” You paused, taking a breath. “…He’s a good man. They all were.” Your eyes fell to rest on your son. “They treated us well.”

Your husband tutted, bringing his lips to graze your ear. “I thought you said you were cut out for this?” You stayed silent, unable to speak. 

Noticing your apprehension, he whispered, “No matter what happens, know that I love you.” You looked back up at his face, the specks of blood adding to your feelings of uneasiness. 

For the first time in years, you were afraid. Afraid for your husband, your future, and yes, somehow even for Gi-hun. 

Letting out a shaky sigh, you swallowed the lump in your throat. You had to trust in your husband’s confidence. He believed in you, so you should believe in him. If Gi-hun had to die, so be it.

“Go get ready. Gi-hun should be here soon,” you said, turning to fish something out of your purse. You handed your husband a yakult drink. 

“You haven’t had much today, right? Drink this before he gets here.” He nodded.

He took your son from you and whispered a few words to him before kissing the top of his head. After handing Min-seok back to you, he pulled you in for a kiss. Not as intense as they usually were, but one that reminded you of the man you fell in love with. 

He turned to leave, shooting you a soft smile before clicking the door shut. You let out a sigh before returning your attention to your son.

It was only a matter of time before Gi-hun arrived, and your lie would finally be revealed.

tags: @muchwita; @beebeechaos; @preppyfella; @buckitostan

also i didn't say this before but the way gong yoo says appa in the show gets me every time, so i just had to include it😔