#jesse fast and furious x reader
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
ARRANGEMENTS
You and Jesse had come up with the perfect way to get rid of any stress. (Smut)
PAIRING. Jesse (fast and furious) x reader
“‘YOU UP?’ THATS THE BEST YOU COULD DO?”
Your best friend Jesse smirks up at you from where he sits on the couch. His eyes bore into you as he looks you up and down appreciatively.
“Not liking my charm tonight?” He questions looking up at your face once more.
You give him an unimpressed look but snort slightly moving closer to him.
“Never thought I’d see the day you would reduce me to a you up text.”
He shrugs slightly and you can see his brow slightly furrowed still, clearly upset about something.
“Wanna talk about it?” You ask softly as you come to a stop in front of him. You stand between his legs a hand carting through his hair pulling a sigh from him. Smiling when his arms wrap loosely around your waist.
“Don’t feel like talking right now.” He tells you before tugging you down onto his lap.
He immediately connects his lips to yours pulling you as close as he can as you straddle him arms wrapping tightly around his neck as his stay at your waist gripping on tightly.
His tongue pushes harshly at your lips and you open them quickly welcoming it in. He explores you eagerly and you can’t help but smile slightly at the fact that no matter how many times you do this he is always as eager as he was the first time.
Your tongues dance together his quickly taking control. He disconnects quickly as yous both take deep breaths.
His fingers hook around the bottom of your top and he looks up at you questioning.
“Can I take this off?” He asks making eye contact. You nod at him smiling and he pulls it over your head quickly before pulling you back into the kiss, somehow more desperate then before.
His hands glide up and down squeezing and groping your chest then settling on your hips again.
He disconnects from your mouth and attaches himself to your neck sucking and nibbling harshly before connecting his mouth to yours again.
It always took you by surprise how confident he was in these type of situations but you would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a lot.
His hands brush over your chest, hardly applying any pressure at all but enough for you to let your head fall back.
“Touch me.” You beg desperately. He leans back slightly before starting to grind you down ontop of him.
Your panties brush over his jeans causing a delicious feeling and you roll your hips a whine leaving you as you gripped onto his shoulders.
He smirks up at you letting out a slight laugh at seeing you fall apart on top of him already, his hands going down to your hips and then finding there place on your ass.
“Barely even touched you yet and you’re already moaning.” He mused.
You open your mouth to make a snarky comment when he grabs it harshly making you roll your hips into his once more.
You let out a squeak that turns into a moan and let him move you going like putty in his hands.
He moves you by your ass making you grind on top of him letting out curses himself as you go over his erection.
“Your so hot.” He says into your ear making you blush.
“What do you want?” You ask him. He seems to study you for a moment and you let him.
“Want you to ride me.” He tells you finally eyes hazy with lust.
You grin down at him and you both make quick work of getting clothes off.
You hover over him as he lines up with your entrance before grabbing your hips and helping you lower yourself down on him.
He throws his head letting out a groan as you fully sink down on him.
Your breath hitches and you shake slightly at the feeling of being so full. You both breathe heavily for a couple moments holding each other close.
“Shit.” He hisses as you clench slightly, “You okay?” He questions, and you nod in reply.
Eventually his hips start moving under you and pushing up making you let out whimpers as you tried to keep up yourself, pushing down and meeting his thrusts.
The rhythm was sensual yet quick. He was hitting the perfect spot inside of you, the one that had your whole body clenching. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close while he rammed into you. His hands were planted firmly on your waist moving you to his desire.
“God your so fucking tight.” He grunts before thrusting up so hard you feel yourself rise a little.
You let out a cry as you feel yourself getting closer and can feel yourself starting to clench around him.
He lets out a curse before pulling out quickly causing you let of a cry of disappointment but it’s short lived.
He turns you quickly until your under him on the couch. A hand cradling behind your head to keep it from hitting the couch too harshly.
You look up and at him questioning but pause as he pries your legs open and pushes into you once more not even pausing before ramming into you at a brutal pace once more.
The new angle has you seeing stars and you can’t even keep track of the moans leaving your lips as you get closer and closer to finishing.
“God don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” You cry our desperately, your legs tightly wrapping around his waist to pull him in impossibly closer.
Jesse groans above you his thrusts becoming less brutal as he approaches his own, he reaches a hand down between you onto your clit.
You cry out more as he tells you to cum the words sending you over the edge. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm makes you shake eyes closing tightly and hugging him as close as possible.
Clenching tight around him he curses thrusts faltering and rams into you a couple more times before emptying himself in you.
The aftershocks of your orgasm mix with the feeling of being filled to the brim leaving you breathless as he pulls out lying next to you and pulling you in close.
The two of you lay in silence for a couple of minutes before you turn to look at him only to find he’s already staring down at you.
“You good?” You ask him blushing slightly at the attention. Ironic you think to yourself considering you let him cum in you on the regular.
“Am now.” He tells you as he grins down at you. You smile up at him feeling satisfied.
Well you thought to yourself as he pulled you closer, there was just no one who could fuck you like your best friend could.
#fast and furious#fast and furious smut#jesse fast and furious#fast & furious#jesse x reader#jesse fast and furious x reader
207 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you do one where Brian knew he fell in love with Carson 💙💙
FALLIN’, DREAMIN’
__
IT was a gradual feeling. That was for sure. Between the kisses and touches, and whispers of sweet nothings, that’s where the feelings truly blossomed.
The first time Brian saw Carson was like a vivid dream — a fantasy he never knew he could have or even desire. The more he stared at her, the more he believed pink could become his favourite colour. Her smile was enough to make his heart flutter and her voice made her hang onto every word. And when he saw the car she drove he damn near stopped breathing.
Carson beating him was something he didn’t know could happen, let alone in a race he thought would be primarily against Dom. He was elated and turned on when she crossed the line seconds before Dom and him in his steaming car.
Next came their first dance, shortly after she defended him to the team. It was to a Tyrese song and she was shocked at how well he could handle her. Her curves glided perfectly in his hands which were caressed with care. Their hearts beat as one to the melody they were lost in.
Jealousy had always been a thing for Brian. He knew what he had with Carson was real even if his initial intentions weren’t. Johnny Tran wasn’t a threat but made sure the police bust made on his mansion was done by him especially. And there was Vince, who never hesitated to comment on their relationship, or him, damn near almost ruining his chances with Carson at every turn. But Brian always took pleasure in wiping his grin off his face.
And although lust and adoration drew him to Carson.
He was sure that love bound him to her.
It was uncontrollable and he accepted it the second he knew it was true.
He never questioned it even though it went against every principle of his job.
But Carson was worth every second he spent anxious that any moment his cover could be blown and the operation would be busted. She was worth more than his job, or even the freedom he risked just by getting more and more close to her.
Carson Baker was his love and he was hers — he was certain of it.
Feeling Brian’s intense gaze on her, Carson looked up from the paintbrush she held and turned toward him. He sat, arms crossed in the busy garage seemingly lost in his thoughts.
“What are you smilin’ at lover boy?” She teased, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.
Brian blinked quickly before he innocently shrugged, “Nothin’”
“Well since you’re lyin’, come and help me with this paint job.” She waved the paintbrush around without letting the contents drip onto her overalls.
“No please?” He rose a questioning brow as he got up, and strode over.
She stood up also, allowing a grin to break through her face when he towered over her.
Carson cheekily retorted, “If it was a question I would’ve said it.”
“Damn, now I know why you get called a brat,” Brian said, tutting and shaking his head at her.
“Only now?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Nah, but I don’t care, give me the brush Sonny.”
As she let the paintbrush drop into his hand, his lips grazed hers, causing her eyes to briefly flutter shut. It was a slow kiss at first, but gradually with every second, he poured more into it. It felt more than any of kiss they’d shared. More personal, more passionate, more…love?
Carson couldn’t be sure, but she wouldn’t say it, not now.
“What was that for?” She asked, with a small gasp once he pulled away, sporting a boyish smile.
Brian simply replied, “Just wanted to.”
She giggled, “Well give me another one.”
Preparing to do just that, they heard a voice call out behind them.
“Don’t give her another one!”
It was Jesse, who pretended to gag at the sight.
Carson groaned, “Shut up Jesse!”
——
hope you enjoy!
#wattpad#fanfic#black reader#black girl#brian and sonny#brian o’conner x black!reader#brian o’conner x carson baker#carson baker#sonnybaker#sonny baker#stereolove#stereolovefanfic#stereolovewp#the fast and the furious#y2k#black racer#pink#brian o’conner#brian oconner#fluff#fast and the furious Jesse#johnny Tran#Vince fast and the furious
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
"What remains of us"
outbreak! Joel miller x f!reader



Summary: Joel doesn't die after the brutal encounter with abby because you saved him on time.
wc: 4k>
warnings: angst,mentions of blood, mentions of murder (reader becomes violent), fluff, mentions of broken bones. english is not my first language so excuse my mistakes. Written in a rush.
a/n: so uhmm. How are we feeling? I personally feel broken by the events from episode 2 so I rewrite the story while i was free in the morning to help me cope with the grief and joel is alive.
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
Something felt wrong in your bones the moment the snowstorm hit harder than anyone had expected. Not just the kind of wrong that came out from the conditions and freezing wind in a cold winter. This was deeper. Ancient. It whispered through the trees like a secret from another world, brushing icy fingers down your spine. In a kind of warning dressed up as bad weather. You felt it in your chest, in the weight behind your ribs, where your breath stayed too long before escaping your lips.
Your skin burned from the cold, your limbs throbbed from the fatigue, but it didn't compare to the way your heart pounded.
There was worry settled deep just over your chest from fear.
“Hey, you alright?” Jesse called ahead, pulling his scarf down just enough to meet your glance.
You nodded too fast, trying to find a source of breathing. “Yeah, but this storm is too cold.”
Ellie was further up the ridge, carving her own path through the deepening snow with over shimmer, unaware of how your whole body shook with more with the low temperature hitting your body. You hadn’t told any of them.
How do you explain to them that your body knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet? That every step forward feel like walking into danger?
Your heart was screaming at you, sending you signals through with every beating, in a language older than logic. Since the morning. Since Joel left your side before you could fully wake up.
The sound of his voice still lingered in your memory. It stayed there, like a tattoo he had kissed over your temple.
warm, softly, lingering as you stirred under the covers.
“Get some more sleep, darling.”
He hadn’t kissed your forehead like usual. He hadn’t lingered there. As if he couldn't face saying goodbye. And when you finally did get up, your gut twisted when you saw the empty space in the stable, the horse meeting, and snow falling hard over Jackson.
The truth was, Joel was out there with Dina; you had no idea under what circumstances.
The sky had turned more gray; it seemed angry, furious, waiting to hit someone else.
You shook your head, trying to focus on Jesse’s voice. Tried not to feed the panic unraveling in your chest like a pulled thread. But the cold in your mind spread, and no matter how tightly you gripped the reins, no matter how fast your horse moved, the feeling remained.
Something was definitely wrong; you could feel your heart beating harder.
You finally found a rundown outpost, an old hunting cabin half-buried in snow and swallowed by pine trees. The roof sagged, one of the windows was kind of cracked, and the door barely held on its hinges, but it was a shelter that would serve its purpose. You and Jesse pulled your horses inside the narrow lean-to out back, while Ellie stomped snow off her shoes and kicked the door open with force.
Inside, it was cold and smelled like old weed and damp rot, but you didn’t care; you needed to sit and think.
Inside, there was a radio.
You didn’t hesitate. You took your gloves off before Jesse could even notice. Your fingers moved over the knobs, turning dials, trying to find the frequency Jackson always used for patrol.
A burst of static. Then another, and finally, a signal.
Your breath caught. “Jackson patrol, do you copy?”
Ellie moved closer. Jesse pulled his scarf down, suddenly silent.
“Joel? Dina? Come in.”
Only static.
“Come on,” you muttered, heart hammering, twisting the dial again. “Joel, please, answer.”
There was nothing. This type of silence wasn’t normal or ordinary. You knew silence. This wasn’t a delay. It was an absence.
Your body went rigid, every instinct screaming louder than your racing thoughts. Your limbs moved before you made the decision. You were out the door and into the snow again before Jesse or Ellie could stop you.
He called after you still. But Ellie was already grabbing her rifle.
“Where are you going?” Jesse yelled, chasing behind.
“Something’s wrong!” you snapped, swinging onto your horse. “I just know it!”
Ellie mounted up beside you, voice louder within the storm, “Then we’re not wasting time.”
Jesse hesitated, glancing between you both and the radio inside.
“You don’t even know if that’s where they went—”
“I know,” you growled, already riding. “I feel it.”
Ellie followed you without a word. She trusted you, you were her family, and she would follow you wherever you went.
The snow clawed at your skin like it wanted to peel the truth away. The wind howled as if it knew what was waiting ahead. But you didn’t stop.
Because something had happened to Joel, and Dina was out there.
You and Ellie rode as fast as you could, the snow whipping across your faces like needles piercing your skin, the hooves of your horses lost beneath the storm. You could barely see five feet ahead, but then, in the distance, a glow that you could see anyway.
“Shit,” Ellie hissed beside you, pulling her hood lower.
You followed her gaze. Through the trees, past the slope of the hill, firelight. Orange, flickering, wrong. Was this your bad feeling creeping?
Fire was catching, rising in a bloom, too wild to be controlled. You slowed your horse as your stomach dropped.
“That's Jackson,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Ellie.
It wasn’t the whole town, not yet. But something was burning. And it was enough to send a coil of panic twisting through your gut, feeding that same deep certainty that had been clawing at you all day.
“Come on,” you growled, spurring your horse harder, cutting off the cold fear before it could settle. “We are way too far.”
And it wasn’t long before you saw it, the lodge over the hills.
It sat crooked and hunched near a clearing, like it had been dropped there by accident. Too nice to have survived years into the end of the world. One of the side windows was shattered. Smoke was seeping through cracks in the boarded upper floor. The front door hung ajar, barely moving in the wind.
You pulled hard on the reins. Your horse bucked a little, skidding in the snow. Ellie drew her rifle and slid off hers.
Your eyes locked on two shapes near the side of the lodge.
Horses.
Your heart stopped because those were Joel’s and Dina’s.
Both were tied loosely, hooves pawing nervously at the ground. Alone. No movement near the front entrance. No voices. No sounds but the wind and the creak of the old building groaning under the weight it wasn’t meant to bear.
You slid off your horse.
“Ellie,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, breath clouding in front of you.
She already had her knife out.
“Oh shit.”
You didn’t wait for backup. Couldn’t. There was something wrong.
Because Joel’s horse was here. And he wasn’t.
And whatever was inside that building, you felt it. It was about to break your heart open.
The sound of screams of agony and a body hitting the ground echoed down the hallway like a gunshot.
You knew that sound. It was torture. It was pain.
Your boots thundered down the corridor of the lodge, Ellie at your side, a worry and desperate look in her eyes. She’d followed the path like a wolf hunting its prey, her eyes screaming Please don’t let it be too late.
You didn’t say a word. Your heart was stuck in your throat, and the only thing that moved was your body, in fast motion, furious, drawn to the man who should have never left your side this morning in the first place.
Then you saw it. The door, a form from inside, screaming slipping from the lips you used to kiss every day. Those were Joel’s screams. In agony, in pain.
You didn’t wait. You didn’t breathe. You kicked the door open, and your world shattered.
Joel was on the floor, a mess of blood surrounding him and something worse. His legs bent at sort of unnatural angles. One hand barely raised in instinct. His face, bruised, bleeding, and one eye was swollen shut. His body twitched like it wasn’t sure if it should keep trying to fight life.
And above him, a woman. Blonde, her hair braided. Rage carved into her face like she’d waited for this moment. Her arms raised again, a golf club in her grip, stained in red.
She didn’t see you at first. Her eyes were solely focused on Joel, but you weren’t having that.
You roared, not screamed, roared, and tackled her with all the force you had, all your weight, all your fury into actions. You slammed her into the wall with a force that cracked wood. The golf club dropped from her hand and hit the ground.
“No more," you growled, your hand tightening around her throat.
Her group came fast, like shadows over you. One tackled Ellie to the ground. Another raised a knife at her. But they hadn’t counted on you.
You were already moving, eyes wild, mind gone. Every compassion you could have left in your body left, gone, you fought like someone who had nothing left in this life but him.
You weren’t skilled like Joel. You didn’t need to be. You were desperate. Right now, you were desperate.
Fists cracked bone. You took hits but didn’t stop. Didn’t feel them on you. You were pulling someone off Ellie, dragging them by their collar, throwing them into a chair that splintered on impact. You used what you had, a piece of wood, the same club the woman wore, your fists, and the most important thing, your fury.
And they couldn’t stop you. Because you couldn’t be stopped.
The blonde tried to rise again. You met her halfway and slammed her back to the floor. She spat blood. You didn’t flinch.
“Get away from him!” you shouted.
“Who the fuck—?!” Abby turned, fury and shock colliding on her face.
You dropped the shotgun, drew your blade, and charged.
The first one that tried to reach for you got a knife in his chest. You shoved him off like he was made of paper. The next came at you with a bat, you caught the swing and used his momentum to slam him face-first into the fireplace bricks.
“You don’t get to touch him,” you hissed. “Not him.”
The blonde took the club again, swinging it toward your face. You ducked.
Then you hit her. Right in the gut. The force of it sent her staggering back, wind knocked from her lungs.
“Do you wanna kill him?” you growled. “Try me first, then."
She looked at you like she wanted to, but she hesitated.
And that was her mistake. The moment she let her guard down, you shot her.
"It's over." You said, pointing your gun right between her brows, and the shot echoed in the stillness of the room.
She hit the floor, eyes wide. No final words. No redemption. Just silence.
Ellie flinched.
You stood over Abby’s body, breath hitching, heart pounding in your ears. The room reeked of blood, and then there was silence, except for Joel’s ragged breath.
The ringing in your ears stopped, and your breathing steadied as you took a look at the mess you had made.
Your eyes finally dropped back to Joel. You dropped yourself beside him as your knees had finally given out.
“Hey,” you whispered, your voice cracking into pieces. “Joel, look at me. I’m here. I got you.”
His one good eye fluttered open, dazed, unfocused. There was blood crusted at his brow, dried and fresh, a cruel mask across the face you’d kissed so many times before, now dripping blood.
“Y-you-" he rasped, voice like torn gravel. He had barely made it.
You nodded, cradling his face in your hands, not caring that blood smeared across your palms. “I’m here. You’re safe. Don't you dare to close your eyes now."
His breath stuttered, chest rising too slow, too shallow. His eyes couldn’t stay fixed on you. They wandered, like he weren’t fully in the room anymore. As if he were fighting death and life at the same time.
“I thought I lost you,” you whispered, leaning close. Your forehead rested against his, warm against cold.
Not even the cold of the snowstorm had been so cruel to you.
“Hurts,” he mumbled, eyes slipping closed again.
“No, no,” you said quickly, your hands gently patting his face. “Stay with me. I got you. You’re gonna be okay. Help’s coming, okay? I will make sure of it. Just—just hold on.”
But he didn’t answer. His breathing slowed.
And your heart stammered in panic. “Joel!"
But there was no reaction from him. You pressed your fingers to his pulse, still beating but faintly.
“Don’t you do this,” you choked out. “You fight, dammit. You’ve been through worse, haven’t you? Don’t you leave me now, please.”
You'd already faced your worst nightmare. Now you were living in it, holding it in your arms, seeing the life leave him.
Joel lay limp and broken on the floor, his breath rattled. His face was swollen, almost unrecognizable on one side, purple and black with bruising. One eye was swollen shut. Blood trickled from his nose, his mouth, and the side of his head.
“Hey,” you whispered again, voice hoarse. “Joel. Are you with me?”
A faint groan, barely audible, but it was enough because it meant he was still here.
You pulled off your jacket rapidly, shoving it under his head. Your hands were shaking, but your mind was locked in: every first aid trick you’d learned from scraps of survival guides, emergency manuals, all this time surviving, and anything Joel had ever shown you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You had paid attention.
You just never thought you’d be using it on him, under these circumstances.
Dina stumbled in, still pale and groggy, her hand gripping the wall. “Ellie?” she rasped. “Wh—what the fuck happened?”
You didn’t look up. “You were drugged. Ellie is moving the bodies. We need the space.”
Dina staggered past, gagging at the sight of blood, but she didn’t hesitate. She knew what had happened.
This was now a war zone. You had blinded yourself, becoming a murderer monster just to save Joel.
You pulled Joel’s shirt open, shredded, stained with red. Purple splotches across his ribs. Swelling. At least two were broken.
Your throat burned, voice cracking. “You’re gonna hate me for this, Joel. But I have to move you.”
“Don’t…” he mumbled, almost unconscious. “Just... leave me—”
“Bullshit" you said, angry at you, at him, at that woman who had left him like this, your tears were splashing onto his collarbone. “Don’t you dare say that. You don’t give up.”
Ellie appeared, face pale, blood on her shirt, Dina behind her with a blanket.
“We cleared the room,” Ellie said, out of breath. “It’s just us now.”
“Good,” you said. “Help me splint his legs. We need to keep him still until we can get him out of here.”
You tore up a curtain and grabbed two broken chair legs. It wasn’t perfect, but nothing about this was. This wasn't something that should have happened.
Ellie held Joel’s leg as steady as she could while you worked the makeshift splint around the worst of the fractures. His left leg, with a shot on his knee.
Joel screamed just as he was being dragged through hell.
You didn’t stop, “I know,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his as you tied the cloth tight. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I got you.”
You felt his breath against your skin, shallow and hot, contrasting with the coldness on his hands.
His lips moved. “Why?” he whispered, barely audible.
You leaned back and looked at him. “Because I love you,” you said simply.
His eye fluttered open, just barely. And for one fragile second, the pain slipped away. There was only you and him inside this room. You brushed the hair from Joel’s face. He was burning up. You needed to clean the wounds. Stop the bleeding. Keep him warm and alive.
And somehow, by the grace of whatever broken god still watched over you all, you would.
You pressed a damp cloth to his temple where skin had split open. His blood soaked through instantly. You felt you were about to throw up.
Your hands moved on their own now, it felt monotonous. Wash. Compress. Tie. Splint. Whisper to him and beg him to stay alive.
Ellie and Dina had gone quiet. Standing behind you. Watching. Waiting for an order, a word from you that it wouldn't be a sob.
Then your voice broke through the silence. “Go back to Jackson.”
Ellie flinched, like she hadn’t expected you to speak at all. You didn’t look up. You were holding Joel’s hand, limp and calloused in yours. Trying to send him the strength he needed to survive.
“We need help,” you said, barely audible. Your voice was shot. Just whisper. “Tell Tommy, tell him to send help. We need to get Joel back there.”
You met silence. Just the sound of Joel breathing.
“Please,” you added, and that word cracked. “Please. I can’t carry him by myself. He’s...he’s too heavy. He’s—” You swallowed hard. Your fingers curled tighter around Joel’s hand.
Ellie stepped forward. “We’re not leaving you.”
You finally looked up, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “You have to. We need more people. Horses. Anything. I can keep him alive for a few more hours. But I can’t move him like this.”
Ellie’s jaw clenched. Her knuckles went white. “I don’t want to leave you with him like this.”
You reached out, brushing Joel’s graying hair from his brow with trembling fingers. “I got him.”
A pause. Then Dina touched Ellie’s arm. “I’ll go,” she said gently. “I’ll ride. I’m faster. You stay.”
Ellie nodded, eyes not leaving yours.
You left a loud sob. “No,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes once more to Ellie’s. “Ellie… you go with Dina. I’ll stay here.”
Ellie’s shoulders stiffened. Her brows pulled together like she was bracing for another blow. “What? No. I’m not leaving you and him.”
You sat back on your knees, your hands bloodied, trembling. Joel’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.
“You have to,” you said, your voice breaking. “You have to, Ellie. Dina shouldn’t be riding alone.”
Ellie looked at Joel. Looked at you. And shook her head. “I can’t leave him like this. I can’t.”
You grabbed her hand, and that startled her. It startled you, too. But you held on, grounding her, pulling her attention back to your face. Your voice dropped to a whisper.
“Please,” you said. “Please. Help me save him.”
Ellie’s eyes filled. Not with tears, but with everything she couldn’t say. The guilt of the lost time. The fury of what they had done to Joel. The fear that maybe it was too late.
But you looked at her like there was still something worth fighting for.
She swallowed hard. Nodded once. “I’ll go.”
Your chest caved with relief. Joel let out a faint groan beneath you, and you turned back to him, brushing your thumb against his jaw.
“I’m here, baby,” you whispered. “I’m right here.”
Ellie hesitated at the doorway, stopping to look at you once again, “Will he be okay?” she asked before daring to step a foot outside.
You nodded, but it was instinct, automatic, hopeful, desperate. The truth lodged in your throat like a splinter you couldn’t spit out.
“I don’t know,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I don’t know how much damage they did.” Your eyes flicked over Joel’s body again, breath catching at the way his chest rose unevenly. “But he’s breathing. And that’s something.”
Ellie stepped closer to you. “What do you need me to do?”
You looked up at her then, and for a split second, she looked like a kid again. Afraid and shaken.
“Just go back to Jackson and bring help,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath. "That's all we need now."
Ellie’s eyes burned. She nodded once, jaw clenched. “Okay. Okay. Just hold on, please.”
You gave her one last look. “I’ll keep him breathing.”
She was gone the next second, steps pounding out the door, calling for Dina, and you were left in the broken room, just you and Joel and the slow drip of blood on the floorboards. His blood.
You pressed your hands to the worst of the wounds, breath shaking. “Did you hear that, Joel?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “Help’s coming.”
He didn’t speak. But his fingers twitched again, slowly, and curled around your wrist.
It wasn’t much, but it meant he was still here.
That night felt heavy like wet ash. Everything smelled like blood, and outside, the snowstorm had died to a bitter hiss. The wind still screamed through cracks in the lodge, but inside, everything had gone quiet, except for the sound of Joel’s ragged breath and the low creak of floorboards every time you moved.
You’d done everything you could.
You had boiled snow over a fire in the next room just to clean the worst of the blood from his side. You weren’t a medic. But you were a woman in love. And that made you terrifying.
He faded in and out of consciousness, his lips murmuring your name between groans, sometimes not even sure it was real. You sat beside him, your back against the wall, holding his hand in both of yours.
But then it went still. You hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten until the sound stopped completely.
“Joel?” you whispered, leaning close. There was no answer.
You shook his shoulder, gently. Then harder. “Joel.”
Nothing. His head lolled to the side. His skin felt clammy beneath your palm.
Your breath caught in your throat. “No, no—please, no. Joel—” You cupped his cheeks. “You stay with me; do you hear me?”
His brow twitched. His lips parted, barely, and a broken whisper slipped out.
"Sarah?”
The name came out like a breath lost in time. You froze. Your heart cracked open. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, a flicker of life.
In his mind, it was Austin all over again.
Sarah was laughing, running ahead of him, calling back over her shoulder, “Dad, come on!”
And he was smiling. Genuinely smiling. He could hear her. Feel her hand in his again. It was so warm and real.
He turned, and they were on the couch. Watching a movie. She was leaning against him, head on his shoulder. He’d just said something stupid, making her roll her eyes. He didn’t want to blink, afraid it’d all vanish.
But then came the gunshot. Her warmth was gone.
Now you were there. In the memory. Not Sarah, but you. Covered in blood and crying out his name.
Joel, please. Please.
Your hands were glowing with firelight, trembling as they pressed against his chest.
He tried to reach for you, but he couldn’t move, and the world was slipping through his fingers.
And then, your voice cut through the haze. “Joel, please. Please don’t do this.”
His heart stuttered once. A sharp inhale tore through his chest as if he’d been drowning.
“Joel!”
He coughed, body shaking, and your hands caught him just in time.
You sobbed, half-laughing as you gripped his cheeks again. “You scared the shit out of me—oh my god” you sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks.
He looked up at you, dazed and confused. Then his eyes cleared, just a little.
“You were crying,” he mumbled, lips cracked.
“Yeah,” you whispered, brushing your thumb beneath his eye. “Yeah, I was.”
He blinked slowly. “Stop...”
“I can't,” you said.
Joel leaned ever so slightly into your palm, the pain pulling at him, but your voice anchoring him.
The night lingered like a wound that wouldn’t close, that wouldn't take time to heal.
And you didn’t sleep. Your body screamed for rest, but you had stayed next to Joel, watching the way his chest rose and fell, praying it wouldn’t stop again. Every time his breath caught or he groaned too hard, your stomach twisted into knots.
The lodge was cold. Blood had dried into the floorboards. The fire in the next room was too far away to warm either of you, and you didn’t dare move him to get closer.
So you pressed your body to his side gently, just enough to share warmth without causing him pain.
“Still with me?” you whispered.
His eyes fluttered open, sluggish as if they weighed “Yeah…” His voice was more gravel than sound.
You breathed out a shaky laugh, your forehead resting lightly against his temple. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”
Joel let out a faint puff of breath, maybe a laugh, maybe a wince. "Learned from you," he muttered.
Your throat clenched. You reached for his hand again, interlocking your fingers with his, so you wouldn’t brush the torn knuckles.
“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.
His eyes moved slowly, searching, until they landed on you again. Then he mumbled something you barely heard.
Silence settled in. You closed your eyes, listening to the wind groaning against the windows. Time stretched, only broken by Joel’s breath stuttering again.
Then, his fingers twitched around yours.
Then you whispered, “Joel?”
He made a sound.
“I love you.”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were glassy with pain. But then he barely squeezed your hand, and his voice came soft, barely a breath.
“I love you, too.”
It felt like the first time he had told you those three words, and that had broken you the most.
You buried your face in his shoulder, careful of the bruises, and let yourself cry, not in panic, not in fear. But in overwhelming, soul-shaking relief.
He was alive.
Joel woke to the soft hum of voices and some old machines. The scent of cleaner stung his nose before the light even reached his eyes.
His body was in pain. He tried to move, but something warm and heavy rested on his side.
Your head was there, leaning on his side.
You were slumped in a chair beside him, your cheek pressed gently to his arm. Your fingers were laced with his, your grip loose with sleep but still holding on.
The light in the room was soft, filtering through the curtained window. Outside, life stirred in Jackson. But here, it was quiet. Just the two of you.
Joel blinked slowly, his throat dry, the taste of cotton still on his tongue. His gaze drifted down to you. There was a crease between your brows even at rest. You looked exhausted and pale.
But you were here. He breathed your name, raw and hoarse.
You stirred at the sound, your head lifting slowly as if from the depths of a dream. Your eyes met his, still sleep-warm but wide with shock. Disbelief flickered, then relief so powerful it made your lips tremble.
“Joel,” you whispered, leaving a sob behind.
His smile was small. Barely there. “You didn’t leave.”
Your hand came up to cup his cheek. “Never,” you said. “You scared me so much."
He swallowed hard, his hand tightening weakly around yours. “How long?”
“Three weeks,” you said, voice shaking with the memory. “You were unconscious the first few days back. The fever wouldn’t break. They weren’t sure if you’d make it through the second night”
He looked at you again, really looked. “And you sat here the whole damn time?”
You gave a soft, broken laugh. “Where else would I be?”
His good eye softened. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
You leaned closer, resting your forehead to his. “You promised me once you wouldn’t leave me.”
He nodded faintly, his eyes closing for a moment as your breath mingled.
Your fingers brushed his temple, so gently, as if afraid he’d fade again like some half-formed dream that wouldn't last. Joel’s skin was warm beneath your touch, warmer than it had been in days, and that alone nearly broke you all over again.
“It’s going to take time,” you whispered, your voice barely louder than the hum of the machines. “To heal from this.”
Joel didn’t say anything, but you felt the tremor in his breath.
You threaded your fingers more tightly with his. “But I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?” you said, firmer now, voice catching on the tears in your throat. “I’m not leaving your side. You will get sick of me.”
His lips parted like he wanted to argue, maybe even protest, but then he looked at you again. Really looked. The cut on his brow. The bruising on his cheekbone. The pain behind his eye, and beyond that, the softness that only came when it was just you.
“You shouldn’t have had to—”
“I had to,” you cut in, gently “Because I love you. Because I couldn’t lose you. And I won’t ever lose you.” you paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “You and I will grow old together, and we will die peacefully in a farm, just as you wanted."
Joel blinked. His hand tightened slightly in yours again, like the only strength he had left was meant for that one touch.
You leaned in and kissed his forehead, bruised, stitched, healing. “You’re mine, Joel. And I’m yours."
Silence fell, heavy but not suffocating anymore. The kind of silence where you could finally breathe again. Where you knew he was going to live.
Joel let his head rest back into the pillow, the edge of a tear slipping from the corner of his eye.
“Okay,” he whispered, smiling at you.
You smiled through your tears, the kind that burned hot down your cheeks but carried no pain, only relief.
You shifted in the chair, reaching up to brush a bit of hair back from his forehead, careful not to touch where it was most tender. His skin warmed beneath your fingertips. He was alive, and the reality of that still hadn’t fully settled in.
“I’m gonna be here when you wake up,” you promised, voice like a hush of wind through leaves. “Every morning. And every day if I have to. You focus on getting better.”
Joel's smile trembled, worn and crooked. His good eye drifted shut, but not before his fingers gave yours one more squeeze, like he couldn’t bear to let you go in his sleep.
You watched him as his breathing evened out again, slow like the beat of a song you never thought you would hear again. The soft light of the light, caught a golden hue over the bedsheets.
You rested your head by his side again, your cheek brushing his arm, eyes closing just for a moment. Not to sleep, but to hold the feeling. The warmth. The miracle.
He was still here.
And you would be, too. Always.
#fic: what remains of us#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller angst#pedro pascal
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
C A T C H ' A N D ' R E L E A S E ✧ . ┊
✧ ˚ · . 𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 ✧. ┊
┊ ┊ ┊. ➶ ˚ jackson!joel miller x reader
✧ . ddlg dynamics, toxic!joel, smut, angst, arguing, mean!joel, he's a little more dark in this one, unspecified age gap, manipulation, daddy kink, breeding kink is heavy in this one, established relationship, pussy spanking, joel slaps you twice, light bondage, sarah and ellie are dead because i don't give joel a break ever, joel is a whole ass oxymoron in this thing, joel also cums fast, and then there is also cum play because i am disgusting, this is probably the craziest thing I've ever written
words: 15.5k
┊┊. AO3 LINK
It started with an eye roll. A simple action, buried in petulance and arrogance that he had taught vehemently was wrong. That he had conditioned you to believe would have dire consequences.
"Don't talk back," he'd said sternly one day when you'd become too whiny, refusing to help him clean the dishes with the simple excuse that you didn't feel like it. And to your credit, you were quick to learn, quick to decipher his warning glances and become the perfect little girl he had taught you to be.
Rules had been implemented and subsequently followed. Praises had been uttered and kept you good. Little rituals that you followed with the sole reason of making him happy.
So when you woke up pouting, groaning as he leaned in for a good morning kiss and complaining about having to stay in the house all day and wait for him to get home, he knew something must have been wrong.
He'd mulled it over on a particularly boring patrol, knowing that if he was lucky he'd be back to you by before four o'clock. He'd wondered what on earth could've caused you to act in such a way towards him, focusing on the last thing he'd seen you do before he'd walked out the door.
You'd rolled your eyes at him.
He'd told you as softly as he could despite his growing irritation, to have a good day, to enjoy yourself and that he'd be back as soon as possible.
And you had rolled your damn eyes.
At the time, he'd been too astonished to reprimand you, too late already on account of your abhorrent mood to do anything but stare in bewilderment and walk out the door whilst shaking his head.
This was not the good girl he'd trained, this was not the girl who did everything so willingly—gave yourself to him as easily and as naturally as it felt to slip a gun in Joel's palm and shoot. It had been eating at him the entire time he was riding alongside Jesse who hadn't dared speak up and ask him what was wrong; fearful of the perpetual scowl on his patrol partner's face that remained the entire time they were working.
As Joel walked around the corner, his house and its glowing windows falling into his vision, he wondered if the boy thought he'd gone mad. Perhaps he'd apologise to him at another time, although he probably wouldn't. He'd never exactly been one to apologise: prideful and stubborn even when he knew he was in the wrong.
But, goddamn, you had left him mad. You had left him furious and he had no choice but to think profusely about why you'd switched so suddenly. You had been perfect for him the night before, sitting between his legs patiently whilst he'd finished the chapter of his book, scurrying upstairs when he'd informed you it was bathtime and getting straight into bed when he'd asked you to. Hell, you'd even had his cock in your mouth and smiled about it like it was a privilege you didn't get to experience so often.
You hadn't woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He would know because he woke up on his preferred right side and you (unusually) far away from him on the left. It had been the first warning sign, the first indicator that he was in for an awful day of work and an even worse night when he stepped into the house and tried to gauge whether your mood had improved any or not.
When he finally made it home, hoping to be greeted by your soft kisses and pretty smiles, he realised that the house was not bustling with your hurried steps, arms flung wide open to greet him. It was instead, eerily quiet. The fire that he'd lain that morning was reduced to glowing coals, the wood piled in the basket beside it barely touched and the blanket on the couch tousled and creased—like you'd peeled it off in a hurry once you'd built up the courage to do what he'd suspected you'd done.
"Baby," he called into the nothing, irritation seeping into the floorboards as he slipped off his coat and shoes—the gun that he insisted he keep in the house despite Maria's passionate objections, placed against the wall where it would temporarily stay until the both of you went to bed and Joel would keep it just within reach. "Baby!" he repeated, louder this time in case you were listening to his CDs again.
Still, he did not hear a thing. Not a creak of the floorboards, or the light rain song of the shower. Not even a sigh. Deadly silent. And when his eyes flicked to the array of shoes parked near the door, he noticed the space the size of your feet—wood where your shoes should rest. Shoes you rarely ever use nowadays since he'd got you being his pretty little housewife.
He was back outside before he could bother to check if his suspicions were accurate, laces loose and coat unbuttoned, not feeling the biting cold that lingered amongst the setting sun. His sights were set on the house a short walk away, decorated in yarrow and anemone. The house that sheltered the reason he had met you at all.
"Tommy!" he banged on the red wood, chest heaving, rage overtaking him. How on earth could you just run like that? Why would you even think of leaving the house without him, never mind leaving without at least telling him beforehand? This behaviour was so unusual, so unlike you that it scared him. If he were to lose you…God, he didn't even want to think about it. The warmth of you, the sweetness that cut straight through the bitter nature that he had succumbed to ever since the world had become trapped in a cataclysmic nuclear winter. He could not let it go. Would never let you go, no matter how much you begged.
The question was falling from his lips as soon as the red was replaced with the face he would recognise even on the foggiest of nights.
"Where is she?"
Joel could've smacked his brother's oblivious look off his face and was seriously considering acting on his thoughts when he opened his mouth.
"Where's who?"
"Goddamnit, Tommy," he groaned, his face the picture of madness—his carefully concealed insanity shining brightly in the face of his loss, your name harsh on his lips when he clarified for his dumb hunk of a brother who exactly he was talking about. As if he would ever be talking about anyone else.
"Hell, brother, I don't know," Tommy exclaimed, perturbed by his brother's attitude, eyes narrowing at the sickness that clouded the man in front of him. "Wherever she is, she ain't gone far. She'll be safe, Joel," he tried to appease but Joel offered nothing in reply except a grumbled disapproval, complaining that his brother just didn't understand, and was off the porch and heading towards the centre of town before Tommy could get another word in.
Joel was steaming. Joel was so desperately, so disgustingly mad at you that he could hardly see any other colour except red. Just a complex, jumbled mess of feelings that he couldn't even begin to decipher as he stomped in the snow and thought of what he would do when he found you—if he would find you at all. God, you were probably dead. Probably buried in a ditch courtesy of whoever in Jackson he did not trust which had, for the past five years, remained pretty much no one. People had tried, with a smile or a home-baked good but it never ameliorated the lingering distrust that Joel had for everyone except those he was closest to. God, he was convinced half the men in Jackson were out to take you away from him and you weren't safe unless you were in the house, in his bed, and waiting for him to rock you to sleep.
If you had ventured any further than the front porch…if you were anywhere near anyone.
He felt fucking insane: raging around town with his boots laced loose and his shirt flying untucked, looking for the object of his affection—the girl he would fall to his feet for. He had devoted so much time to making you perfect. This obedient little thing who did everything he asked and made him feel an amalgamation of jolting, sickening guilt and simultaneous euphoric bliss at the prospect of what could be. He was going to marry you one day. Damn, he was going to give you a kid while he was at it. Just to keep you close.
Joel knew, he knew completely how awful his tendencies were—how they would break you until you were afraid of him. In times like these, he thought of Tommy and how terrified he had been of what Joel would do to you. Nighttime conversations between two tipsy brothers, the drink making the younger sibling sentimental and the older too defensive to talk straight with. Joel had promised him under the low glow of a dying oil lamp, that he would do nothing to you. That, yes, you were young, but he would not treat you any differently because of it.
Both Tommy and Joel had known it was a bunch of bullshit. He'd lost too many people, and seen too many things that he could hardly comprehend. It started with blood-stained blonde and then blood all over the surgery floor when he couldn't get her out of that damn hospital on time. When Joel had come riding back to Jackson with her limp body—gunshot from where a stupid fucking firefly had accidentally hit—and a strong feeling that he had failed. Again.
By God, he would not do it again.
So, marching into the Tipsy Bison with a furious look in his eyes, he could hardly care about the stares; what he knew everyone was thinking when he zeroed in on you talking to Gus—a kind old man who ran the library a street down from the bar and posed no real threat—with bright eyes and a wide smile.
A smile that teetered off the edge when the wind picked up against your face and fell away again—door slamming closed to see him huffing in the lamplight. There was a split second where they all looked, head snapping in the direction of your damnation and then, turned away—afraid of what Joel would do if they looked too close. They parted like the red sea when he advanced, guided by his small "'Scuse me," and his twitching hands as he reached for you.
Your name was harsh on his lips, Gus' words trailing as he looked at the man practically steaming with anger.
You looked terrified in the most delightful way. There was still a hint of defiance lingering in your stare—a brattiness in the pout as he reached for your forearm.
"C'mon we're goin' home," he announced, already dragging you away from the confused young man you had been accompanying.
"But I'm talking to Gus."
The disobedience was instant and he couldn't decide whether your attitude was on purpose, whether you just wanted to be a brat deliberately, or if there was something deeper. Some other issue you'd discovered in the middle of the night when you should've been sleeping. Joel remembered brief images of you slipping from his hold to go to the bathroom but he had been too exhausted to decide whether it had been a dream or not. Maybe it was then. Maybe it had been the hours of the sun's rest when you decided you didn't want him anymore.
"I said, we're goin' home, you've had your fun." His voice was low—warning. He didn't want to make a scene. He didn't want anyone to be looking at you at all, especially when you were in a mood that he couldn't fix by putting you over his knee. If he wanted to show you off at all, he'd want to show how much of a good girl you could be. How well mannered, how sweet and considerate. Not this unrecognisable personality you'd acquired whilst he'd been gone.
"I wanna stay." You were whining. He fucking hated it when you whined.
"We're goin'."
"I'm not—"
Your name came soft from Gus' lips then, a sweet hand on the small of your back that had Joel's fist clenching. "It's okay, Darlin'. You don't have to stay for me, I'll be just fine by myself."
The way you looked at him then, the softness in your eyes as you mouthed a small sorry—throat too dry to produce a sound, was infuriating. If he wasn't angry before, he sure as hell was now, his grip on your arm tightening as he began pulling you out of the bar.
"Joel," you called with a whimper as he guided you through the crowd. "Joel, it hurts." Your fingers were pulling at his, trying as hard as you could to pry him off you, but he refused to let go. He'd keep you tied to the bed if it meant you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again.
Your pleas fell on deaf ears, to Joel and those around you who didn't care enough to involve themselves in your proclivities and the cold was hitting your warm cheeks before you could apologise for bumping into John standing by the door.
"Joel," you said, firmer this time and it seemed to bring his attention back to you—away from the wild rage clouding his head.
He was too angry to speak but his eyes portrayed every word. They pierced you, right through the heart and froze your bones as you stood with the snow falling and the sun setting.
"We're goin' home," was all he managed to spit out and he had no idea what possessed you, where you found the goddamn nerve, but your mouth was opening before he could give you another warning glance—a promise that it wasn't going to end well if you kept up the bullshit.
"It's not my home." There was venom in your voice, a genuine, deep distaste that left him feeling shot in the heart. "I'm not going back there."
"Who do you think you're talkin' to?" He scolded, and he mirrored your scowl with a fire—a heat that blazed and coiled in his stomach. "Huh?" he questioned your lack of answer, disappointment mingled with fury in his eyes.
The snow dampened the silence as you heaved, chest rising and falling in succession with the quick, fateful breaths that passed your lips and danced in the air before falling softly to your feet. There was no reply amalgamated with that dance and he shook his head with a clenched jaw.
"We are goin' home, and we are gonna talk about…" he gestured between the two of you, looking frantically for the words to describe his predicament. "...whatever this is. I ain't dealin' with this out in the snow when all of them are in there-"
"They don't even know me!" you suddenly exclaimed, lip quivering no matter how many times you bit the shake away. "I feel like all of Jackson has tripled the months that I've been with you, I'm sorry that I wanted to familiarise myself." There was a crack in your voice at the end of your sentence, biting back a sob as all the emotions came falling on your head all out at once, dropping bricks from the sky and smothering you under the debris.
Joel had no sympathy. He refused to be deterred by your tears that melted the snow as they touched the ground, nor the delicate pout on your lips that was pushing him to a point of madness unknown.
"You complain' now, huh?" he asked exasperatedly, chin held high, jaw taut with the exertion of his anger. "What more do you want from me? You sayin' I don't spoil you enough? That I don't go out there every week just to keep you and your precious little prissiness safe?"
The door swung open then, hinges creaking as Walt—eyes glazed from the alcohol—looked between the two of you once, afraid of Joel's stare that pierced holes through his head, and scurried away—casting one sympathetic glance to your glistening tears. A pause. The man had interrupted the flow of the argument, emotions now contemplated and swallowed away.
Before Joel knew it, you were running—fast little feet on the move, hurtling through the thoroughfare.
He was chasing you before he could think twice. In truth, he could not think of anything except your pretty little skirt swishing in the wind as you sprinted past Tommy's house and turned right. The opposite way to home.
Joel called your name in the wind, old bones desperate for some relief as his long strides turned into a light jog, then a full sprint as your legs whipped around the corner and into a little alleyway. He knew you had no idea where you were going. He knew that you had barely been in Jackson three months before he'd picked you up and trapped you. Made you play house with his little fantasies that disgusted him in the depths of twilight when he gripped his rifle as tight as possible.
Joel also knew that in a few seconds, you would be faced with a dead end, and as he rounded the corner and cast his eyes on your shuddering frame, the apologies came swiftly from your lips.
"Daddy, I'm sorry."
God, it was so sweet. It itched every scratch, warmed his stomach like a kiss of sunlight and eased the ache in his jaw from his perpetual clenching.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't…" you paused to sniffle, blubbering little thing that you were and he could hardly keep up the bad guy act as he took careful steps through the alley's sludge and planted himself a few feet away from you. "I don't like it when you're mean, I just- just-"
He held his hand up to shush you, shaking his head.
"I don't wanna hear excuses." He truthfully didn't want to hear you blubbering your way through reasons why. He didn't want to hear you blaming it on anyone else except yourself. He did want an answer as to why you'd acted out so deliberately but what he did not want was lies. He knew how to calm you down, he just needed to get you so afraid of him that you'd let him leash you and drag you back home—no matter who saw the depravity.
"I know," you whimpered. "I know daddy, I'm sorry-"
"Stop." He said a measured tone that mirrored the imperceptible look on his face. "I don't need to hear you apologise, not when you don't mean it."
"I do mean it!" you protested. "Please!"
You were silenced by his stare, the creases by his eyes as he squinted and jerked his head behind him—looking briefly, then turning his attention back to you. His next words were simple, almost soft as they fell from his lips, but laced with poison invisible through your silver tears.
"You ain't sorry until I make you sorry." There was a growl in his throat, a twitch of his fingers and then the fire in his eyes dampened to a simmer of coal as he spoke again. "Baby, you know how this goes. You know I can't let something like this go just because you say a few words you don't mean yet."
You had nothing to say in reply then, nothing to indicate you were sorry at all with the way your breaths came heavy and your eyes spilt over with salt that stung the open wounds on your chest. There was a tension, meandering between the two of you, pacing up and down the length of your bodies and colliding in the middle of your union—a heat searing its skin until it crumpled and fell in a heap as you sank to your knees.
He watched you go: down and down and down. Your pretty eyes gazed up at him in wonder, conveying so much with a single simper as you shuffled your way towards him and hesitantly placed your hands on his thighs.
All he did was watch.
He said nothing, reacted to nothing, knowing that all you wanted as you wrapped your arms around his right leg and nuzzled, was his affection.
"I'll be good, Daddy," you whispered into his leg. "I promise."
His head fell back at your words, eyes squeezing shut as he tried not to succumb to your angelic nature—all soft and willing and obedient. He took pride in knowing that he had made you that way; that he was the reason you were willing to ruin your pretty little tights and hurt your delicate knees.
Hands fell to your head in surrender, brushing through your hair as he stared down at you, enamoured by the way you submitted to him.
"I know you will, honey," he reassured. "I know. You're my good girl, yeah? My perfect angel. Sometimes you just make mistakes, don't ya?"
You nodded into his thigh, muffled words he couldn't decipher and he pulled you back by the hair so he could hear you properly.
"Speak up."
Your reply was immediate.
"Yeah, just a mistake, daddy."
He smiled a little at that, a scoff pulled from his throat as he let your hair go and held out his hand. Your fingers were so cold when you placed them in his palm, your whole body shivering as he pulled you up from your position and dragged you tight to his chest.
"Now," he sighed. "We're gonna go home, ain't we? And I'm gonna be honest, babydoll, you ain't gonna like what I do when we get home but it needs to happen, yeah?"
"But-"
"Sh sh sh." He held your hands to his chest, not one to deny you the tiniest bit of comfort when he was being perhaps a little too harsh on you. Either way, you had worried him sick and he wasn't about to let his relief at your subservience show just yet. He needed to make sure that you were entirely with him, that this was just a one-off and that you wouldn't be running away again next month when you got scared. "It needs to happen. Don't it?"
Your eyes were hesitant, wide, angel-eyes—wings clipped as he held you as close as he could get you without displaying too much desire. Then, a nod.
"Yes, daddy."
Relief washed over him, bathed him in holy water and guided the spirit from heaven to its space above his head. He was revered by your spirit, enamoured by your waiting hands as he let them fall to your sides, eyes cold and not displaying his true feelings at your exhibition of devotion, and turned on his heel to walk back to the house.
"C'mon then," he called after you like you were a dog, snapping his fingers as his long strides and heavy footfalls made a guiding path in the snow.
At your confusion, the furrow of your brows as you looked longingly at his hands, he barked a short "Hey! Keep up," and fought every urge to keep you as close as possible on the roads. Every single time he took you past the threshold of the front porch—which wasn't an awful lot in truth—he would grasp your hand in his, guide you around every corner and past every wandering eye. He would never let go.
Joel could tell the separation had broken something inside you, snapping the strings of your heart and breaking open your chest as you trudged on behind him—slowly shuffling through the snow that seeped into your shoes.
There was little encouragement as the sunset bled across the sky, no words of praise passing his lips as you walked behind him like a sad little puppy, head down and playing with your fingers. You were anxious, he could tell. Anxious and curious and desperate all at once.
You always did look pretty with a pout.
Once he'd rounded the corner to the house, he paused at the steps, looking back at you with an expression indiscernible. No smiles or scowls, just a set stare that kept you on your knees. You paused with him and he couldn't help the thrum of approval that coursed through him at your fear. He shouldn't like it. He knew full well that he shouldn't, but being scared was better than being comfortable. He had learned, too many times, that getting comfortable amounted to pain. You needed to be different. The possessiveness was just a response to a need to protect; every possibility whispered to him through the wind.
It was all part of his need to defend and protect.
"C'mon, honey, up the steps," he encouraged, watching you waiting for his next instruction—his approval.
Obediently, you stepped past him, Joel briefly glancing at the wet dirt at your knees, the notion that it symbolised and huffed a breath of harsh, winter air as he grabbed your wrist before you could reach the incline. He leant in close, lips ghosting the side of your face, a tightness in his chest at the way you stared straight ahead: unmoving.
"I'm gon' give you a headstart," he muttered. "'Cause your old man needs a drink on account of all the runnin' around you been makin' me do."
"I'm-"
"Don't start." He gripped your wrist tighter, shaking his head softly as your eyes met his. "When I get upstairs, you better be waitin' for me how I like you, yeah?"
You narrowed your eyes slightly, a hint of defiance in your eyes that he shut down with a simple tilt of his head—just a flavour of his disapproval of your attitude. He didn't mind you being a brat, not when it was innocent fun in the comfort of your home, spurred on only by his teasing promise of a little harsh treatment that night. But this…he couldn't deal with the disobedience when it ran this deep.
"Yeah, okay, Daddy," you murmured, and you escaped his grasp before he could reprimand the attitude—up the steps as quick as your feet could carry you, and through the front door.
Joel watched you through the frame for a small second, seeing you disappear up to the second floor and he tried not to let himself get too carried away with the image of you stripping your clothes off and settling on your knees beside the armchair that nestled in the corner of his room. Patiently waiting.
He took his time getting inside, treating the occasion as normal as he could: shoes kicked off near the door, coat hung up next to yours, venturing into the living room to stoke the fire and try and revive the flame you had killed, and turn into the dining room to pick a whiskey from the alcohol collection he'd been adding to since he found a bottle of unopened, aged red wine near the old farmhouse near Flat Creek.
Scanning the bottles, his eyes landed on the Whiskey you'd got him for his birthday, the days when you were still allowed on patrol and had been searching for something special for him to commemorate the soft beginnings of your blossoming relationship. You'd told him of the glint under the dried leaves, the rotting wood sign that marked a lost general store, and the brown liquid sloshing near the brim when you'd picked it up.
Joel hadn't the heart to tell you on September twenty-sixth why he had not accepted the gift with gratitude, why he had angrily asked you how you'd found out that it was his birthday and why he'd gone storming off to Tommy's with rage in his eyes when you'd said his little brother had mentioned it in passing.
He'd been drunk from that birthday present when he told you about Sarah and Ellie, and he'd never mentioned them again after the fact. You had not pried, and he had not touched the whiskey since. But, today, it seemed commemorative to pour himself a measure, find some courage in his cowardice and he wondered if the curse of the drink would prevail today when he asked you why you were pulling away.
Maybe, it would be he, who pulled away instead. He was hardly one to care as he took a sip and glanced to the stairway, another sip and a gulp as he began advancing.
It was cold when he got to the landing. The heat had not travelled far yet and any heat from the fire he'd started this morning had dissipated. You'd probably be shivering. Poor thing. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the framed picture of the two of you, the blurry Polaroid you'd forced him to take in late May when you were more friendly with him in the month you'd known him than anyone else in Jackson.
He remembered your soft giggle as you told him to smile, the scent of your hair when you leaned in close and pushed the camera in his face. You'd been disappointed with how it turned out but had given it to him all the same—your initials scratched in marker on the white border and little heart that seemed as hesitant as you always were.
With another sip, he pushed the picture face-down, obscuring your faces from view and turning his back on the memory of your independence with a sigh.
You were cold. You must be and he couldn't wait a minute longer with the image of you shivering. He was cruel but he was not that cruel. All he wanted now was the truth, and if you were to give it to him if you were to submit yourself to him fully, he would pack up everything in the house and move you two far away.
Joel slinked into the bedroom with soft pads against the floor, your shaking body jumping when you heard the creak that gave away his silent position.
God, you were perfect, facing the chair on your knees, frame tensing as he stepped towards you and sat down; legs spread wide. You knew what it meant, knew the implication and you shuffled in between his strong thighs—hands scratching at his jeans to steady yourself.
Silently, he held out his drink to you, gesturing with a soft nod for you to take it.
"Just a little sip," he murmured, desperate to sing some praise, some words of comfort to you, but found that his throat was dry and he could barely speak the words he had just uttered. He coughed before he spoke again. "You're gonna need it."
You looked skeptically. He never let you drink. He'd said that it wasn't good for you and you hadn't known how serious he was about it until two months into the relationship when he'd seen you curled up on his couch with his wine. He'd taught you the best lesson he knew that day and you had not touched the stuff since. You knew you'd never get away with it and he prided himself on the fact that you would never even try.
"Daddy, I—"
"Just take a sip." You flinched at the irritation in his tone and grasped the glass with two hands to hopefully appease him. Just a simple sip, barely anything except a coat of liquid on your lips and you licked it away with a grimace, handing it back to him with wide, hopeful eyes.
He did not offer you what he knew you were asking for, those words of affirmation that always made you light up in the most delightful way. Instead, his voice was flat as he told you to put his drink on the side and he could tell by the quiver of your lip that you didn't like his behaviour one bit.
"Look at me," he instructed and you did as he asked in a heartbeat. His lips twitched as he almost reflexively told you how good you were, how proud he was as you, but he swallowed it down with his simmering anger—his desire for the truth. However, he did allow you a modicum of comfort as his hand came to the side of your face, cupping your cheek with warmth and rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. You nuzzled into him like a goddamn cat, desperate for his touch. "I need to know the truth," he said measuredly. "I need you to tell what's got that head of yours thinkin' so hard."
You looked away, ashamedly, bottom lip jutting out in a pout and back hunching as you tried to curl in on yourself. His grip tightened at that, thumb and forefinger travelling to your chin to force your eyes to his.
"Baby, I'm givin' you a chance here—"
"Okay!" you exclaimed suddenly, chest heaving like you were about to start hyperventilating—chin wobbling in his hand as you bit back the tears. "You just gotta promise me you won't leave me. All of this, I- I promise I didn't mean it."
Joel shook his head, grip loosening and thumb stroking along your bottom lip in comfort.
"I just wanna know, honey. Whatever it is."
You contemplated for a moment with your eyes on his, blinking away the glisten before averting your gaze to his lap. He allowed it whilst you thought, knowing that his gentle harshness was the oxymoron that ruled your life.
"Yesterday," you began, and he was surprised at the thickness in your voice. There was no whine, no hesitancy: you sounded like you used to. He reached for his drink to expel the fear. "You were gone. You were working."
The curl of your fingers in his jeans was the only sign of the girl he had turned you into. Even on your knees, naked, there was the shadow of who you were before, a looming figure behind you that grew closer the more you spoke.
"I was doing my chores, just…minding my own business like you always tell me to and you'd barely been gone an hour before someone knocked at the door and I know I'm not supposed to answer the door to anyone, I know." You were rambling. You grounded yourself again by taking a breath, glancing up at him and wondering if he was going to say something, but found that his mouth was sealed—his jaw solid and tense. There was a sigh before you spoke the words that had his simmering rage burning in blue flames to the surface.
"But it was only Maria, and I didn't think you'd mind…"
Your voice trailed off, his ears ringing as it all settled into place and it was undeniable that in that moment, he was taken by clarity—swept from the ground by a shuddering realisation. He was not angry with Maria. He was not angry with you. That fog had cleared, had disappeared right before his eyes and he was already formulating future conversations in his head. Plans that had been so hazy before when he rode past the lone structure that housed images that, at the time, seemed profoundly unreachable.
They seemed close now and he was shushing you with a hand in your hair before you could begin relaying what his sister-in-law had said. He already knew and he was almost grateful. Joel knew now that things would be good when he got you out of here.
"You don't gotta say nothin' else, baby," he said, softer than he had said anything today.
Your voice trailed off, staring at him with confusion—questioning with a furrow of your brow.
"You're not mad at me?" you asked. "You're not mad at Maria?"
Truthfully, Joel found it endearing how willing you were to defend his sister-in-law, how desperate you were to be his good girl again. The act of defiance…you could never keep it up for long. He'd moulded you so perfectly that you could hardly live without his praise and affection. Sometimes, it scared him. If he were to die next week, if he were to die tomorrow, what would you do with yourself? He'd spent hours pondering the likely situation, the number of close calls he'd been having out on patrol nowadays too frequent for him to believe he'd be living long enough to see you mature out of him. Right through his skin like a parasite, ripping through the flesh and leaving him bleeding with a broken knee.
He'd tried writing letters, feeling stupid when he put pen to paper and flinging them back into his drawer with the lock on it and promising that he'd try again tomorrow—just so you had a piece of him when he eventually left you. He'd try again tonight when he got you to sleep, although he knew that it would amount to nothing.
All he could give you was what he had right now and his grip on your face grew soft as he realised he could waste no time being mean to you. Not when you liked the pain so much.
"I'm not mad at you," he sighed, shaking his head and leaning back in the chair. "It's okay, baby." The rest of what he said became absent-minded mutters, not really meant for you to hear but you were on your knees and you looked so pretty. Just a little angel in his when he brought your head down to his thigh, feeling you nuzzle into the denim. "I'm gonna take you away from this soon. Gonna give you everything you want. Just you and me."
You were gazing up at him with wide, glazed eyes, remnants of bitten-back tears washing down the side of your face, traversing to your nose where they dropped off onto his thigh—nestling into the fibres of the fabric and drowning against his skin.
"C'mon," he murmured then because he could not bear to see the watercolour, the wetness that stung his soul as much as it stung your pretty eyes. The colour of the iris burned into the backs of his eyelids, the wideness of the pupils when you looked at him expanding in his dreams until all he saw was black and the call of your sweet voice lulling him deeper into his derangement. "Up you come, honey," he encouraged as you clambered into his arms and bracketed his thighs—arms circling his neck as he nestled you against him.
It was the clam before the storm—the sun before the snow.
Joel comforted you for as long as he would allow his brain to feel the clarity; the blissfulness of what the next stage for the two of you was going to be. He would talk to Maria tomorrow, tell her that you were on board and put the plans into place with a soft smirk as he stared at the black hole of delusion that had been sucking him in ever since there was blood in the blonde and auburn.
You were heavy against him, his hands gently stroking along your spine, beginning to bounce his knee a little just to keep you awake, and letting the scent of roses and thyme envelope the space. You were his baby. All his and he held you a little tighter when his hips caught the heat of you and your breath blew sharp from your throat.
It was slow, the way you started to rock and cry into his neck. He could feel the wetness, the deepness of your essence bleeding into him when you settled yourself over his thigh and pressed yourself to him so tight he could hardly breathe with the perfume of you suffocating him.
"That's it," he choked out when you sobbed. Heat against heat, friction burning between your thighs as you gripped his hair and tried regulating your breathing.
You did not call his name as you usually did, you just cried and rocked against him, spurred by his guiding hands and delicate kisses. Joel could barely stand the silence, and could hardly take the muffled crying as you rubbed yourself against his leg. Joel didn't like the way it was transpiring—not with the crystal ball in your court and his fate in your hands.
The hand in your hair tightened, dragging you from his neck and forcing your face to his. He licked away your tears with fervour, roughly pulling you to him, letting him drink from the salt of you and then forcing you back so your eyes bore into his.
"Don't make me hurt you, angel," he said through a scowl, and it sounded so dark coming from his lips that all he could see was the red of your eyes and the red of her blood. There was black on his soul, filth and rotting flesh, infested with maggots that buried themselves right to his core. Sometimes, he was convinced that your soul was made from daisies and angel feathers. Amalgamated, he sullied the freshness. Separated, there remained a hole ripped from the middle of both entities—only healed when he was here with you. Keeping you in place. "You want me to hurt you?"
When you nodded he almost greeted death like a friend. Take the hand of that phantom cloaked in black and drag him from his bloodied existence. But you were muttering, still rocking and muttering and he couldn't leave you as you were. So broken and desperate.
"Want you to hurt me, Daddy." The tears were streaming and they called to his tongue, dehydrated from the salt but greedy for the taste. His greed overcame his rationality in the end. After rationale was no longer needed and he could be safely trapped inside the gates—let out only when the full moon rose and the sun died.
He lapped up the wetness on your cheeks, pressing kisses to the skin, digging himself into you as he felt you seep into his tongue. The sweetness warmed his belly and made him drunk with the feeling—drunk and violent.
"That right?" he questioned with a barely-constrained growl. "Want daddy to hurt you?"
You nodded your head enthusiastically, sob wracking through your body as you clung to him, hips still rolling and rocking; wanting to take everything from him. He found it fascinating that you didn't know you already had. That you'd taken him, mind and soul, dipped them in formaldehyde and displayed them on your shelf—smiling at the collection of body parts until all that remained was his head, spurting blood from the harsh hacking of your heart.
"Goddman, baby." The name was muffled into your shoulder, biting down on your skin to restrain himself. Then, you called, begging him with pretty little whimpers not to be gentle with you. Words spill from your tongue like vomit, spraying him head to toe with your entrails and reminding him of his position. Your protector. Your daddy. Yours.
He would do whatever you wanted him to. He would move mountains, drain the sea and place the moon in your willing hands if it made you happy. He had realised long ago just how willing he was, how pathetic and liberated it made him feel to know that he would never let you go. Contradictory, in its base: he would do anything for you except let you go.
"You sure?" he murmured as he placed kisses along your neck, hands wrapped around your waist and guiding you back and forth over his thigh. "Don't want you runnin' off on me again when I get a little too mean."
"No," you choked out desperately, groaning softly as a sharp tick ran through you. "Never, Daddy."
Joel just kissed you through it all, unable to think of some clever remark or bite back with a teasing question. He just let you rock and wind your fingers into his hair, gripping so tight you were liable to break away with chunks of his skull. He would be nice for this moment, the short, lingering moment where he would let you go brainless with want, pretend that he was going to give you what you so desperately craved, and then strip it from you like Jesus refusing bread for the five thousand.
You were stuttering, hips losing their momentum, cute little whimpers falling from your lips in quick succession, toes curling—all indications. It would've done you better to restrain your noises, to keep rubbing your cute pussy over his leg in careful consideration. Maybe then you could've slipped through the cracks—deceived him into letting you cum.
However, you had not, and he was gripping your hips and ceasing the friction—speaking before you could start whining.
"If I hear one sound outta you, I'll tie you to that bed and leave you there." It was an idle threat considering how much he knew you'd enjoy such an activity. Unfortunately, you had never been bratty enough to warrant such a punishment and now, the sun was setting, the sky was getting dark and, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't have the patience to embark on something so arduous. It did not mean, however, that he wasn't going to hurt you, that he wasn't going to bruise that cute little ass of yours and brand your cheek with his handprint. You'd never want to leave the house again if you were all marked like that—the humiliation was just too much for your sweet soul.
But, you were pouting at his scolding, tingling from the rejected orgasm and he couldn't find it in him to be sympathetic.
He was dragging you to the bed before you could so much as beg him for reprieve. He'd pushed you off his lap with disdain, towering above you as he grabbed your upper arm and led you to the bed. The sheets were fresh, he realised, and it helped your cause just a little: the fact that even though you'd been bad, you'd still found it in you to keep up with your chores.
"Sit," he commanded sharply and you crawled onto the bed with a whimper, pressing your thighs together and curling your fists to stop yourself from touching any inch of you.
Obediently, you nestled on your knees in the middle of the bed, eyes wide and glistening, fingers fumbling as you tried to cease your anxiousness. You looked so breakable it made him sick. For some reason, today of all days he couldn't stop thinking about who you used to be: fierce, completely independent. God, he remembered the time when he tried to adjust your stance when you were sniping some stray runners and you'd scowled at him and told him with vigour that you could do it yourself. If you dared do something like that now…hell, if you even tried picking up a goddamn gun, you knew he'd have your neck.
He understood, completely, what he had done to you. How he had broken every little bone in your body until you were just a mass of flesh.
"Arms out, honey," he muttered suddenly, right hand pulling at his belt buckle and slipping the leather from its loops. He was desperate to get his jeans off, desperate to tie you up and keep you down as you held out your hands, palms up and shuddered as he folded his belt in half and watched it come hurtling down against your skin.
Almost immediately, a harsh red line blossomed along your hands, a tear slipping down your cheek as he shushed your whimpers and began wrapping the leather around your wrists. He tugged tight, pulling on the item to make sure it was secure and letting your hands fall to your lap.
He smiled when you looked up at him with bleary eyes, stepping back to go and sit back down on his chair.
Your tears filled with more tears at the disconnect, and he palmed his bulge with a soft grunt when you began whining.
"Daddy, what—"
"What did I say?" he interrupted harshly. "Huh?"
Your voice was quiet and cracked like a dropped porcelain doll when you answered.
"No more whining."
He sighed in gratitude at your response, settling down and letting his old bones relax after an awfully long day of worrying about your stupid fucking head.
"That's right," he muttered, gazing at you with soft eyes that glinted with licentiousness. He wanted to touch you. You knew it, God knew it, but he would not allow himself. Not for now. "I want you to touch yourself, baby?"
Your eyebrows shot up, back straightening and he hushed you when you began asking how.
"You'll figure it out, you're a big girl, ain't you? Now, I want you to touch yourself, and if you dare cum, I'll throw you outside in the snow just as you are."
You pouted and he twitched. It disappeared in an instant when you realised fully how willing he was to smack the expression off your face. With hesitant, bound hands, you began searching between your legs, restricted by the loss of movement in your wrists and fingers fumbling as you tried to gain all the friction you could.
Your eyes bore into his, watching him watch you, stuttering softly when you managed to brush against your clit and fall back onto your elbows—spreading your legs to reach the sweet space between your thighs.
"There you go," he murmured, reaching for his whiskey. "You're so pretty when you listen."
You glared frustratedly, Joel knowing full well that you could barely get any kind of momentum with your hands bound in such a way.
"Don't look at me like that, you got all your fingers don't ya?" He shook his head as he took a sip of whiskey, the sweetness of honey dancing along his tongue as he honed in on your glistening pussy—unashamedly adjusting himself in his pants when you helplessly tried to find an angel that could give you the most pleasure.
After a few minutes of fumbling, a sob broke through your chest. Whining.
"I can't do it, Daddy!" you exclaimed. "It doesn't feel good, you're just being mean."
"Would you rather not get touched at all?" he asked with a bite, gnawing into your psyche, breaking you down until you could hardly think.
"No," you drawled out. "Just want to cum, daddy."
"Then keep goddam goin', little girl. One more word outta you and I'm leavin' and sleepin' on the couch." The look you gave him then was the cutest thing ever, laced with a need so deep. A need not just for the sex, but for the love—for the kiss of his skin against yours when you fell asleep with soft snores. For the vitality that permeated the connection, you shared when he held you close and told you of times long past, aired his grievances and then apologized when he realised a little girl like you shouldn't be burdened by his impediments.
You craved him and he could hardly contain his pride at the notion.
He mumbled a short, "That's what I thought," when you started trying to touch yourself again, hiding his smirk behind his glass and letting the warmth of the alcohol settle in his stomach.
Watching you struggle, watching you so desperate had always been his favourite thing—something that kept him sane during the dark winter nights when even the moon seemed to lose its light. The image of you, bound and wet glistened in the slight lamplight that expelled from the cracks in the walls.
And here you were. His naughty little girl with your wrists tied together and your tears streaming as you tried to get yourself off.
Disgruntled moans fell from your lips, eyes wide as you stared at him with meaning slathering your gaze. He gauged your silent words and he downed the rest of his drink before his instructions came.
"Come over here," he commanded, legs widening as he settled, no intentions of coddling you, rubbing away the sores on your wrists and telling you that you were his good girl again. You had not atoned yet, you had not fully experienced the judgement day that befell as soon as the thunderclouds had rolled in and clapped with an almighty roar above your head. He wanted to be revered, wanted you to look at him how you used to—like he was God himself.
You pathetically scrambled off the bed, your body trembling as your sweat began to dry in the cold chill of the winter air. You could shiver all you want. It was your fault it was cold in the first place.
When he witnessed you standing on two feet, ready to take a step, he shook his head.
"Hands and knees, honey, come on you gotta crawl."
"But, daddy, my hands—"
"I don't give a damn if you gotta army crawl, just get your ass over here."
He revelled in the way your lip quivered, the way you slowly genuflected at the altar of his cruel kindness and shuffled slowly to the crown of thorns he held between two calloused hands. When you nestled between him, he dug the thorns into the skin of your forehead and immortalised you with a bloody cross on your chest, giving so freely when he brushed his fingers through your hair to soothe the wounds.
You began apologising again, nuzzling into the feel of his hands against you, knees scraping against the floor as you pressed your face down against his thigh.
"Wanna make you feel good, Daddy," you whimpered. "Please, I'm sorry. Wanna let you hurt me."
Joel scoffed, smiling down at you as you leaned against him.
"You think you deserve Daddy's cock, huh?" he muttered. "Sometimes, I think the best way to make you listen is to make you go without. It ain't exactly a punishment when you like it so much, is it?"
You whined then, shaking your head and pressing your face fully against his crotch, no shame in the way you pawed at him, not heat to your cheeks when he went to grasp the sides of your face and pull your gaze to his.
"How do we ask?" he questioned with a tilt of his eyebrow, playing with the pout on your lips.
Your eyes went down at his tone, bottom lip jutting out even further as he brushed his thumb over it and words mumbled as you uttered the third rule on the ever-growing list stuck to the fridge.
"Can't hear you," he said, only catching the odd few words that you managed to enunciate properly.
"Ask like a polite young lady or I don't get what I want."
He sighed happily, nodding his head and tilting your head from side to side, admiring you from every angle before letting you go and muttering, "That's right." You basked in the minute praise, the implications of his words and his actions as he spread his legs a little wider with a silent command, and flicked his eyes to his crotch. "Ain't got all night," he uttered. "Already took the belt off for ya. Is a button too hard for ya?"
You shook your head vehemently, fingers clasped around the metal fly and tugged downward once you'd pushed the denim through the button. Reaching in with ardour, he settled into his chair, ready to watch you fumble with the size of him, your warm mouth encasing him whilst he gave no assistance or encouragement. The casualness of the licentiousness was always his favourite. Those moments on the couch when you were on his lap and he'd rub at your clit in soft circles—not intending to make you cum. If anything, it always made you sleepy, your body going heavy and slack against his as your eyes flickered.
It was the same now, with his face straight, reaching for the book that he'd left on the side table and opening up on the last page. In truth, he wasn't focused on the words. All he could think about was trying not to elicit a groan when your hand wrapped around him, a little too tight as if you were trying to get one back at him, and pressed a tentative kiss to the tip.
The feat became even more of a difficulty when you thanked him, all sweet and soft before taking him whole in your mouth—right down to the base, breathing heavily through your nose, eyes wet with tears that dripped into his grey pubes, and suppressing the inevitable gag that had you choking and spluttering as you surfaced for air.
"C'mon," he said suddenly, flicking the page like he'd even absorbed any of the information on the last one, and grabbed your hair to push you back down on his cock. "You don't stop unless you can't breathe, you understand me?" he asked authoritatively. Then, a little softer with his tone, just that touch lighter with a downturn of his eyes to reiterate something you already knew. "If you wanna stop altogether, you know what you gotta say don't you?"
You nodded with his cock down your throat, humming around him and basking in the small victory of a choked groan, then the desperation for composure when he shook his head and trained his eyes on the top of the page.
Diligently, you began to work, up and down, tongue running along the underside, catching the veins you had mapped—now muscle memory that lingered in the backrooms of your mind. Your dominant hand was forever caressing his balls, a comfortable weight in your hand—almost calming—as you took the entirety of him. The soft tip reached the back of your throat with every movement, reflexes smothered as you tried as best you could to not focus on the feeling of your jaw locking.
The tears were damp on his skin, the suction around his cock a malicious force that threatened to reveal his position and your pretty little eyes looking up at him with desperation for his attention. He could feel your gaze in his periphery and from the observant nature he knew still lay somewhere within you, you'd probably gauged that the book was nothing more than a disguise considering he had not turned the page in the past ten minutes. You knew the speed at which he read considering he read to you almost every night and with an extreme lack of restraint, his eyes honed in on you over the top of the cover.
"What're you lookin' at?" he asked with a strain, succumbing completely when his eyes flickered shut—giving himself a second to breathe. A moment of composure and his eyes were back on you. Yours had not left him. "Hm? What're you crying for, babygirl?"
His thumbs came to wipe at the corners of your eyes, holding underneath your chin to pull you off him gently. The string of spit that attached you to him had his position completely displaced—the stalemate broken as he raised the white flag in surrender and let the book fall gently against his lap. A forgotten entity as you leaned in with haste to lick the precum off his leaking tip. Just cause you liked the taste.
He still didn't know if you were lying about that or if you really were a little goddamn cumslut but he would take the wins as considerately as he took the losses.
Your eyes mystified him, the windows to your soul glistening like the heavenly gates of eudaimonia and you hypnotised him into acquiescing. Not forgiving. No, you were in no position to be forgiven just yet, not before he pressed your body into the bed and fucked his cum into you. The harshness just seemed to fall away.
"Goddamn, I can't stay mad at you," he said with exasperation, both hands cupping your cheeks and feeling his back crack as he leant down to kiss you.
Your tears wet his thumbs as his tongue slipped into your mouth, all spit and desire as you sobbed against his mouth. He pulled away to caress your hair, watching you blubber with carefully concealed guilt that he would bury down into the pits of the bruise on his chest by the day's end.
"I hate it when you're mad at me," you cried and it was so sincere he could hardly stand it.
"I know, baby, I know," he murmured. "But I don't like it when you're not good. And I gotta do what I gotta do. I don't want you runnin' off again, honey."
"I won't," you said, shaking your head. "I promise I won't."
In truth, Joel knew you wouldn't. Now, he knew that this temporary setback was nothing more than just that. You'd just got a little tetchy. It was understandable considering how much freedom he had taken from you. Your life had slowly transformed into a small slice of what it once was, the patrols dwindling to stable duty, then to greenhouse duty, and then helping keep the grocery store shelves stocked every other day, and then right down to Joel's house where nothing could get to you except the beast of a man who passed the threshold every day.
There was a short silence between your words and his next, licking his lips in contemplation before signalling over to the bed with his head.
"Go lay down."
Almost immediately, you did as he asked, bound hands placed on the ground, ready to crawl then stopping when you heard his no.
You looked in confusion, wondering what you had done wrong now. All he said was, "It's okay, you don't have to crawl just-" he sighed, looking at your hands and deciding he liked the scratches on his back far too much to restrict your movement for much longer. "Come here," he asked, and you obediently settled back into your previous position. He carefully removed the belt bind, rubbing at the marks on your wrist when the leather fell to the floor with a thud.
Then, the moment of softness was gone and he pushed you away with another nod to the bed before reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He smiled when you glanced back on your journey to look at him undressing, a suppressed smirk on your face when you nestled down on your side of the bed and pressed your face into your pillow.
You didn't sneak another glance when he started shucking his jeans down his legs, kicking them off alongside his socks until all the clothes lay on a pile next to his chair, and then stood with a crack in his knees to settle down next to you.
The bed dipped when he sat, reaching for you with a gentle hand across your waist, turning you to face him.
You melted into him, shuffling closer so you could touch him in any capacity, eyes raking over his old frame as if he were anything special. In times like these, when you shamelessly soaked in the pudge of his belly, the wrinkles in his forehead and the grey in his hair, he felt wanted. You made him feel wanted, loved, desired—something he hadn't in years. Even before all this goddamn shit, when he was focused solely on giving his daughter the best life possible, when he didn't have time to sink into some cliche romance with a woman of respectable age and a similar situation. Even Tess, goddamn Tess who lingered in his periphery when he was beating a runner to death—flashes of all the people he'd killed and tortured with her by his side. He did not even feel wanted then. Just a disposable commodity. He had known that he was not the only man she messed around with in that QZ. Everyone was looking for comfort, everyone desperate for the touch of another to soothe them to sleep when the bombs dropped and there was nothing to keep them from crying.
Even when he had walked into Jackson with his head held high and the pretty woman who led patrol group C asked him if he'd ever want to go out for drinks sometime, he had not felt wanted. He had sat in the secluded corner of the Tipsy Bison with her hand on his thigh and whispered promises between sips of whiskey and decided that it didn't feel right—that there was something in her eyes that told him she wouldn't devote herself to him as you had done.
God and he felt so guilty every time he thought about how he turned Jessica down with a frown, holding her hands between his and telling her that he had enjoyed every second, that it wasn't anything to do with her or her character but all down to the fact that Joel didn't want to lose someone he grew close to again. He couldn't make room for any more pain in his chest.
Sometimes, he felt like it with you, felt like he should let you run away just to prevent the feeling when you eventually left anyway.
But, you stared at him with so much love, naked and wide-eyed and he couldn't even fathom the thought of letting you go. In this moment, when you rested your head on the pillow and nuzzled into his waiting palm when he cupped your cheek, he couldn't bear the images that danced and fell of you running away. Of you turning your back on him like he hadn't given you everything.
"Daddy," you murmured, eyes worried at his intense thinking, the silence stretching just a little too long.
He was pulled from his reverie with a shake of his head, eyes catching yours, fixated on the deepness of your intent and absent-mindedly tracing his hand down your arm, tickling along the soft hair and reaching for your palm with a squeeze.
"You ain't ever gonna leave, are ya?" he asked suddenly, intent on hearing you say it without blubbering, without the girl he'd turned you into saying it for you. He wanted to see the girl in the Polaroid, the girl who had once been crucified by the horrors of the plains. He wanted to feel the nails in your palms and feet, the sacrifice of yourself streaming into your eyes where the thorns had cut too deep.
You got quiet, your hand wriggling against his until you could fully intertwine your fingers. You squeezed once, shuffling up the bed to sit up slightly, and brought the back of his hand to your mouth. You kissed, as delicately as he had ever seen you kiss, and fucked his soul with the softness of your affections.
Then, you shook your head, all guts no glory.
"No. I won't go anywhere else for as long as I live."
He let the words settle, let them linger for just a little while—struggling to swallow them down, his teeth ripped from his gums and blood spilling on his tongue as he attempted to chew. They didn't quite reach his stomach, just nestled somewhere in his throat, a space where he couldn't quite cough them back up but also couldn't quite force them down. So instead, he kissed you before you could say another word, tongue down your throat, a hand wrapped around where the muscle dug, and pressed you into the mattress with the weight of his mania.
In truth, he knew he had been crazed since the beginning of it all—completely insane by the end of it, too.
He gave it all to you, and it was too perfect that you took it so willingly. All of his derangement was given to you in a china bowl, a side of rotting flesh and a cup of piss to wash it all down. He masked you with the poison and made you just as deluded as he was until you both lived in your very own madhouse.
"You know just what to say to make Daddy happy," he breathed between kisses. "Know just what to do to make me forgive you, huh? Even when you've been bad."
You moaned in response, his lips latching onto your jugular, hands everywhere he could reach, working you into a sweat before he clasped your clit between two twitching fingers.
He shushed you when you cried out, using his other hand to press over your mouth.
"Sh, sh, sh, I know, baby, I know. It hurts so good, huh?"
You nodded desperately, jerking when he pinched harder, then let out a muffled cry when he swiftly pulled his hand away and then brought it right back down flat against your bare pussy. He revelled in the tears, the look of desperation on your face for more—for him to hurt you until you felt like you were his good girl again.
So, he hit again, landing square in the middle of your wet cunt, pulling back his hand to see the glisten—the lingering essence of you slicking the skin. You did not notice him staring through the blur of your tears, just tugging on the ends of his hair which was getting too long, to pull him down to your mouth. He went willingly, soothing over your clit with softer fingers and basking in the feeling of you against him.
It had been a long day. A long time alone, even with the company of Jesse. He had been worried about you and the relief that he had you where he wanted was insurmountable. An indescribable reprieve from the stress of his day and the panic of losing you like he had lost everyone else.
So, he slipped his fingers inside you with the grace of an arcing arrow, and reached for the transcendence of your moans, searched for the mystery of the sea in your eyes and the reverence of the Lord Jesus Christ in your devotion.
"There we go," he murmured when you started moaning, the heel of his palm digging into your clit to provide extra stimulation. "That's the one, ain't it, babydoll. My pretty little babydoll- fuck."
If it wasn't for the painful hardness of his cock or the consolation that you were here to stay, he would've been embarrassed by the way he moaned with you. Embarrassed by the way he hissed every time his cock dragged along your thigh. If he was someone else entirely, he would've been embarrassed altogether by the way he had you. By the way you had him.
Joel knew, had known for some time, that he needed you far more than you needed him. It was why, sometimes, he could never bring himself to worry about what you would do when he eventually left for the West—why he struggled so much to sit down and write that goddamn letter he had distressed himself over so much. He had faith that eventually, you would be okay. You would learn to live without him.
Because Joel Miller was nothing special. He was not glorious. He was far from good and a lot of the time, he believed that he deserved to die. That his penance for his misdeeds was God sending you for him to look after, knowing that your presence would make him utterly insane. He wanted to give you far more than he could, he knew that. Yet, he would love you like he loved the memories and believe you when you said that you loved him too.
If it wasn't for that sickening love, Joel would've been embarrassed by the way he asked you for the second time, "You ain't leavin'? You promise me?"
"Fuck," you whimpered and he didn't have it in him to scold you for cursing. "Fuck, yes."
He groaned when you gushed around him, a vice-like grip on his fingers when he brushed a thumb over your nipple and sucked your collarbone.
"Yes, what?" he breathed out almost desperately. "Tell me what."
You expelled a harsh breath, hand wrapping around his working wrist and squeezing tight until a ring of white branded itself into his skin.
"N-never leaving," you half-moaned, unable to control the desperation for his fingers. "Don't want you to leave ever, Daddy."
"Oh, baby," he muttered. "I ain't goin' anywhere, my pretty little thing."
You clung to him, then, arms wrapping around him to pull his chest to yours, to feel the weight of him crushing you into the earth, burying you with a pearl headstone adorning the grave of passion. The depths you fell, you were unsure, the way you tugged him with you into the abyss, Joel could not appease.
The adrenaline began coursing through him when you begged him to put it in, when you told him with a whine that you wanted to feel him deep—that you didn't just want it but you needed it.
"Daddy, please," you cried, eyes full to the brim with desperate tears, the salt sliding down your cheeks, another whine when he slipped his fingers from you to swipe away the tears.
"Goddamn," he muttered to himself, mesmerised by how gorgeous you looked with his wet fingers against your cheek, eyes red raw from the constant crying that symbolised so much more than the pain of knowing him. "You're beautiful, baby. So beautiful, I can't even hurt you."
"You can hurt me," you said so eagerly. "I want you to-"
"I can't," he cut you off firm and soft, shaking his head with a vulnerability he hadn't felt in a long time. "Not right now. Not when I've got you back."
"B-but I haven't been good," you protested. "Daddy, I haven't been good."
Joel shushed you, refusing to listen to whatever else you had to say.
"You're always good. Always my good girl, yeah?"
You shook your head and his hand came whipping down against the side of your cheek—an unconscious decision that he would've felt guilty for if it wasn't for the brightness in your eyes at the action. Still, he could not continue with these bouts of violence; could not position himself as a force of injudicious actions. You did not deserve what he gave you. You never had. But, he couldn't force himself to stop the power, to feel the domineering presence of his words fall over you like a ton of fucking bricks. You loved it, he knew you did. Just like he knew you loved his hate and his insanity. You craved it like he craved your innocence and, although both were completely twisted in their own ways, who was he to deny you what you wanted?
So, he asserted a simple, "Repeat it," one last smack to the side of your face before he gripped his cock in hand and eased the tip inside.
"Ah," you cried, never used to the stretch no matter how many times he peeled you apart.
"Repeat it," he asked again, trying to gain composure as you swallowed him whole.
"I'm- I'm…" The words fell away from you, your mind going blank as he pushed himself inside you. Inching further and further despite the resistance of your tightness.
"C'mon, baby, let daddy hear it," he groaned, breathing heavily to keep himself from moaning. "Repeat it."
"I'm a good girl," you garbled out, all in one mess as he simultaneously bottomed out inside of you, both gasping into each other's mouth at the feel of him nestling.
Joel gripped the sides of your face between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head from side to side, just to test how limp you were—how fucked out you were already despite him not even moving. He missed the days in late summer when he used to keep you on his cock all day long, too hot to make too much movement in fear you'd both overheat. Just you, lolling against him and spiralling into heaven with the tip of him rubbing against your cervix.
Your legs wrapped around your waist, pulling him in all that deeper and he had no words, no teasing phrases to punish you for breaking the rules. He didn't give a shit about that, not anymore. Not after what had been remedied here in your bed. As he looked at you, eyes closed shut, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, all he thought about was what would happen next. Where he would take the two of you. He had ideas, thoughts once private that he spewed between your lips when he started rolling his hips.
"Gonna marry you," he uttered. "Gonna make you a Mama."
You moaned in retaliation, babbling something he couldn't quite hear, ignoring the "no" that he thought had been strung within your incoherent sentences.
"Yeah, baby," he breathed out. "Gonna take you away from here. Gonna keep you forever."
Your chest was heaving, his was too, and he couldn't find it in himself to be deterred by his own words—the words that he had not thought of as anything more than a disparagement of his own sanctity when the nights got too dark and he couldn't see the future from where he stood.
His hips got quicker, adrenaline fuelling the ache of his bones and your pussy was so tight and wet he could hardly focus on the task at hand. His thrusts were quick and sharp, pistoning into you with the force of all his desires and holding back nothing at all when cupped your face in both hands and begged you for one thing.
"Look at me," he asked through gritted teeth.
You complied as best as you could, eyelashes fluttering and eyes hooded, unable to look at him properly with the incandescent nature of the sensations.
"God, I love you," he breathed out and he could barely keep the contact anymore, the wet squelching coming from your legs keeping him grounded at the moment, Yet, he could feel himself floating with each ringing in his ear, so desperate to cum that he neglected to touch your clit, giving you the much-needed stimulation that would send you floating on high right next to him; bathed in sunlight and the reverence of God Almighty.
Chasing his orgasm only, he thrust as fast as he could, groaning into your ear with each snap of his hips and burying his face into your neck to keep the noises from embarrassing him when he thought back on them later. And suddenly, with one sharp shout, he came, fast and hard and underwhelming—deep inside you as he sagged and shuddered above you.
You both lay there for a moment, his breath hot and heavy against your neck and as the high faltered, his cheeks began to heat.
"Shit," he muttered. "Shit, baby, I'm sorry."
He pulled away to face you, gauging your reaction and finding nothing but a soft smile on your face.
"You came before me," you whispered, unable to control the giggles that spilt from your mouth. "You never cum before me."
His stomach was still clenched, his humiliation unable to overpower the spinning in his head and he was so bewildered that he looked at you with an expression of complete confusion. It took a moment for the giggles to settle in his ears before he began to crack a smile, shaking his head and unsuccessfully trying to get you to stop.
"Alright, alright, it ain't that funny." For some reason, that made you laugh harder and it was so infectious that he began laughing with you: complete easement, not even bothering to feel embarrassed about the way he'd just cum as fast as a virgin and hadn't even bothered to attempt to make you cum as well.
It felt normal, like you weren't both fucked in your own ways, called to the west and blinded by the sun in the east. The two of you were just you and Joel. The nice couple down the street who always kissed each other goodbye: a wife who made blueberry pie for the potluck and a husband who cooked sausages on the barbecue with the neighbours, telling him all about how lucky he is to have you. A little sickly sweet but normal all the same. But how could you be normal when the world did not adhere to the definition? How could anyone pretend that the situation of the globe was usual? Ravaged wasteland. Disparaged morals.
The two of you were not normal and, he decided, that he was fine with that. That neither of you wanted normality, and he was kissing away your laughs with a soft smile, teeth clattering in an unrefined connection. It was slow, almost sleazy the way your tongues began to touch, the humour fading to something more complex—a dependency so profound it maddened him.
"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured into your mouth. "Sorry I didn't make you cum on my cock, I know you like it best like that, don't ya?" Joel smiled at your nod, humming along with you. "Yeah, I know you do."
His kisses trailed down to your neck, down down down to your heaving breasts, nipples just desperate to be kissed and he sucked one into his mouth with ardour. You were so soft, always were and the smoothness of you beneath his tongue was something akin to heaven. He knew he would never reach the kingdom, and knew that eternity with God was impossible, so he would take what he could get while he was here. He would sin: murder, sex, and love with no bounds. He would deny His existence and then beg on judgement day for the feel of you one more time, his lips along your stomach as he kissed his way to your waiting cunt, spilling with his cum.
It was utter depravity when he saw the sticky white contrasted against the colour of you, dripping down onto the bed sheets and looking so incredibly appetising. And he was always crazed in his arousal, whispering words of insanity against your pussy in the hopes that one day he would indoctrinate you into believing them too.
"You think it's gonna take one of these days?" he asked, pulling you apart with his fingers, just to watch it fall out of you again. "You think daddy's gonna knock you up, hm?"
You were looking down at him with wide eyes, propped up on your elbows and looking so unsure of yourself in the moonlight. It only occurred to him then that it was now completely dark, the moon hanging bright in the sky, the day far behind you and winter subtly coming to a close. He refused to believe you when you shook your head, flopping back down to the pillows with a sigh when he traced the white all the way up to your aching clit.
"No?" His lips came down to your thighs, kissing the insides of the plush flesh and gracing you with soft bites, careful not to hurt you too much as you buried your flushed cheeks into the feathers. "You sure?"
You shook your head, moaning softly as he pressed his lips to the crease where you met, Joel's breath hot against you as you awaited the kiss of death.
"Please," you muttered. "Just wanna cum."
"Oh, she wants to cum?" There was condescension to his tone, harsh sarcasm that he didn't really mean and your hips bucked into his face in retaliation. He almost groaned at the scent of you, the sight of you so desperate for his tongue. He would make you cum if it was the last thing he did and he was ashamed that it would not be on his cock but he was getting older and the one hard-on was plenty for his body to handle. "It's okay, I'll make you cum, honey."
There, his lips latched onto your clit, moaning into the sensation, tongue lapping up the remnants of his cum with a single swipe and holding it dangerously in his mouth. Pulling away, he tapped his finger against your chin, crawling back up to face you with a mouthful of seed and disgusting thoughts he couldn't reconcile once all was said and done. You opened your mouth with no abandon, eyes wide as he gathered the combination of fluids in his mouth, and spat them directly into yours. Swiftly, he pushed on your chin, closing your mouth with a simple command of "swallow," and watched the bob of your throat as it all slid down to nestle into your stomach.
"Atta girl," he uttered, mesmerised by your obedience, slipping down your body again to begin eating you once more. Between kisses and sucks and licks, he murmured praise between your legs, promising you that you were his good girl—that you always were even when you broke the rules, even when you made him so mad and worried he could hardly think.
Joel's lips stayed clasped around your clit, fingers working into your cum-soaked cunt without abandon and stroking at the spot inside you that expelled every cry and moan from your mouth.
"Daddy," you whimpered. "Daddy, please, I-"
Muffled, he questioned you, asking if already after maybe only a few minutes of working, you were already on the edge—already ready to jump. Sometimes, he thought that maybe you always were. Maybe you were always just waiting for the moment he would push you—needing the extra little bit of assurance to tip you off the side of the cliff. You came so quickly and it was so cute. So special to him. So he sucked harder, fingers moving faster and your hands were in his hair and tugging with the force of the wind smacking against your face as you arched and fell and came into his waiting mouth.
Yet, he did not stop there, did not think you deserved just the one experience of falling, so he pushed that little harder, undeterred by your hands pushing against his head to force him away and placed his forearm over the expanse of your bucking hips to keep you down. He lapped and basked, the feeling of himself and you on his tongue an amalgamation of nature that could rival the wonders of the world. Surely, you were the eighth wonder, at least a figment in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, at least something greater than conceivable.
Because when you came, there was nothing but you, nothing but the expression on your face and feel of your fervour and he was determined to experience it again, despite your oppositions.
"T-too much, Daddy, it's- gonna." You were babbling, tears streaming into your temples, eyes squeezed shut from the overstimulation and your hands going limp against his head as you gave up the fight. You were leaning into it, he could tell. Rising higher into the darkness of the sky to find peace from the calling glare of the Lighthouse of Alexandria
When you got like this, he knew he'd have to rock you back to safety, find comfort in the uncomfortable when you were lolling in a headspace that cast a spell on your psyche, dug so deep inside you that it took bit by bit from your common sense each day.
"Daddy," you droned out, the moniker repeated over and over until you were gasping and twitching. "Daddy, I love you…love you s-so much." You cut your crying with a moan, revered by his tongue, motivated by the feel of his thick fingers inside you stroking and baiting you into coming again.
It came even quicker this time, the clenching of your stomach, the stopping of your sharp breaths as it built and built, rising tall until it shadowed your trembling figure. Then it all came tumbling down like a ton of bricks, a piece hitting you straight in the head as the heavens opened and the rain came pouring.
A chorus of "daddy" came tumbling from your lips, a hymn reserved for your own personal mass and you sermonised your affections with the snapping of your restraint—your thighs clamping down around his head, fingers digging into the mattress and tugging on the sheets. Seizing from the pleasure and then falling away completely as a long, drawn-out moan graced his ears.
Slowly but surely, his suction loosened, his fingers slipping from your sticky pussy and slathering over the skin of your stomach. Both of you were out of breath, a string of spit connecting you that mirrored the depravity that had taken place in the armchair not so long ago. He licked it away with a smile, crawling over you to press a kiss to your unresponsive lips.
Your thighs came together to remedy the aftershocks, your whimpers muffled by his mouth; an action that you had no energy to reciprocate. Knowingly, he moved away from your panting and practised your special dance, lips against your cheeks, your forehead, your nose and then burying his face in your hair.
"You okay?" he asked softly. "Want me to go get you some water."
You shook your head immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pulling him down against you.
"Please don't go," you whispered, throat hoarse and eyes drying to a crust.
"Okay, okay," he appeased, softly manoeuvring you onto your side and tucking in beside you—letting you shuffle yourself as close to him as you could get. "There we go…did so good for me, babygirl. So good."
The regular moment of silence befell the both of you, the time after the fall when you were wrapped up in the feeling of each other and gave yourselves a moment to contemplate. Moments where sometimes, he got worried about what you were thinking, if the clarity that he felt after the fact was the same for you, or if you felt just as manic and possessive as he did when the intelligibility gave way to new sensations that trumped the lucidity.
Yet, you always managed to ease his wandering mind, always had something to say, all muffled and sleepy once he'd tucked you both in bed and buried you in the covers—just so you wouldn't complain about the cold and not sleep skin to skin with him.
"I'm never leaving," you said against his chest. All the promises at sundown—this one an addition to the long list of equivocations. "I'm just worried one day you'll leave me."
"Hey now, I ain't ever-"
"Not that," you corrected, eyes appearing from underneath him, chin resting on his chest and looking up at him with watchful, waiting eyes. "I'm worried that one day you'll leave even when you don't want to."
Joel understood the meaning as easily as he understood his own impending doom, wondering briefly if it had been the imminence of his oncoming suicide that had permeated your thoughts as much as it had his. He had to give it to you, you were one observant motherfucker, even if you tried pretending that you weren't. He knew that you felt it too, every time he went out into the snow: the thought that maybe he won't come back.
"You know I try my best to get back to you every day, don't you?" he uttered, fingers trailing up and down your arm, the other raking into your hair and pulling you back down to his chest. He didn't think he could bear to look at you, to see your scepticism when he denied the feeling that it was coming someday soon.
"I know," you murmured. "I just…Joel, I was wrong today."
His movements along your arm stopped, time ceasing altogether at your tone, at your stability. He couldn't quite stop the lump in his throat or the filling of tears in his eyes as you poured your heart into him.
"This is my home," you whispered, voice cracking. "I don't wanna be anywhere else, I don't wanna be with anyone else, you make me feel something I've never felt before and I need you."
A pause. A moment. Then you repeated it, the three words that almost meant more than the expression of your love.
"I need you. I don't think I can live without you." He almost begged you to stop, his hand firmly placed on the back of your head and holding you against his chest so you didn't see the tears that he desperately tried to blink away. "Please don't leave."
Joel wished you hadn't spoken, almost wished the entire day hadn't happened altogether. It was all too real, all too goddamn strange and harsh; he could feel his heart shattering when he cleared his throat and lied right in your fucking face.
"I promise," he falsified. "I ain't leavin' you ever."
a/n: ngl it's one in the morning and half of this has barely been edited because I was proof-reading as I wrote (which has been over the course of a few months tbh) and I just really wanted to get this out and finished and I don't want to ever think about it again but IF you see anything that doesn't make sense then please tell me so I can go back and correct. I hate having bad grammar, so it is of utmost importance to me. There also may be a few bits that don't read as well, especially towards the end, because I had a rough time writing smut for some reason. Either way, this went in so many directions, and I hope you enjoyed it!!!
#virginreprise™#joel miller#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#tlou#pedro pascal#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us hbo#the last of us part 2#joel tlou#joel the last of us#game joel miller#joel miller tlou
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆.



PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader WARNINGS: the shed scene, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: basic instinct by the acid WORD COUNT: 856 NOTE: josh is back!! how we feeling?
navigation | request | josh washington masterlist

josh sat tied to a chair in the middle of the room, rope biting into his wrists, ankles locked down. his head hung low, hair falling over his face. he looked... small. he wasn’t fighting anymore.
no more screaming. no more manic laughter. he was quiet now, too quiet.
you stood off to the side, arms crossed tight against your chest. your mouth was dry. your stomach churning every time you looked at him, it got worse.
"don’t look at him like that!"chris shouted, making you flinch. "don’t feel sorry for him. he hit ashley. you know that, right? he fucking punched her!"
"and jess is dead," mike added, quieter but no less biting. “she’s dead. because of him. he set this whole thing in motion.”
the words slammed into you. you couldn’t breathe.
you had no defense for what josh did. none. he did hurt people. he did orchestrate a sick, twisted game. and you weren’t going to stand there and pretend he hadn’t.
but the way they were talking, the way they were looking at him.
he wasn’t a monster. he was josh. the boy who used to fall asleep mid movie with his head on your shoulder. the boy who never let anyone he loved feel left out. the boy who made you laugh so hard your ribs hurt. the boy who got vulnerable when he got too drunk.
“i know what he did,” you snapped, your voice cracking. “you think i don’t know? you think i don’t feel sick knowing people got hurt? that jess is–” you had to stop. swallow. breathe.
“but look at him. look at what’s left of him.”
josh didn’t even lift his head.
your eyes burned. “you’re not helping him. you’re hurting him. how is that any different than what he did to you?”
mike turned on you, furious. “different? he terrorized us.”
"and now you’re tying him to a chair and screaming in his face!" you shouted.
“you think this is going to fix anything? you think this is going to bring jess back, or erase what he did to ashley? it’s not!”
they both stared at you, stunned.
“he’s sick,” you said, tears slipping past your lashes now, voice hoarse. “he’s not okay. and you’re all treating him like he’s some villain instead of someone who needs help. what if this was ashley? what if it was jessica losing her mind, and someone tied her up and treated her like an animal? would you still be okay with this?”
mike’s jaw clenched.
chris looked at josh, then looked away. his voice was soft now. “so what, we just let him off the hook?”
“no,” you said, stepping forward, finally letting your arms drop. “you don’t let him off the hook. but you don’t throw him to the wolves either.”
it was quiet again, but not heavy this time.
chris sighed and reached down, loosening the ropes around josh’s wrists. mike didn’t say anything, but he stepped back, hands on his hips, looking somewhere over your shoulder.
no one met your eyes. you didn’t need them to.
you stood frozen as they slowly helped josh down from the chair and onto the floor, his hands now free but limp in his lap. his lips moved. whispering to himself.
“no, no, no…”
you took a step forward.
his voice rose slightly. “it wasn’t me… they were laughing, they were all laughing…”
you dropped to your knees in front of him, careful, slow. “josh?”
his eyes flicked up, and the moment your eyes met his, pain spread throughout your chest. that wasn’t just pain in his eyes. it was despair.
“i didn’t… i didn’t mean to…” he mumbled, trembling. “i just wanted them to know. i just… i wanted them to feel it.”
your heart shattered. “josh…”
“i messed everything up, didn’t i?” he asked, voice almost childlike. “even you. i messed you up too.”
you reached out and took his hand gently. he flinched. you didn’t let go.
“you didn’t lose me,” you whispered. “i’m right here.”
his eyes were red. the tears came fast.. it was as if he didn’t even realise he was crying until they were soaking his cheeks, his breath stuttering in his chest.
when you reached up and wiped them away, your own tears fell to replace them.
seeing you cry made him freeze.
his hand tightened on yours.
“no,” he whispered. “don’t– don’t cry. not you…”
you laughed a little, through the hurt. “i should’ve seen it. i should’ve seen how bad it was.”
he shook his head. “i didn’t want you to.”
“but i still should’ve known.”
he looked down again, lips trembling. “i’m sorry.”
“i know.”
the others stood across the room, watching in silence. no one said anything else. maybe they didn’t know what to say.
but you stayed there, on the floor beside him, his hand clutched in yours, your forehead resting lightly against his. listening to the sound of his breathing even out, just a little.
the two of you clinging to each other, neither of you wanting to be the first to pull away.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© 2025 ruewrote all rights reserved.
#josh washington#josh washington x reader#josh washington oneshots#josh washington imagines#josh washington fanfics#rami malek#rami malek x reader#rami malek oneshots#rami malek imagines#rami malek fanfics#until dawn#until dawn x reader#until dawn oneshots#until dawn imagines#until dawn fanfics#x reader#oneshots#imagines#fanfics#ruewrote#josh washington x reader angst#angst
292 notes
·
View notes
Note
No idea You're taking requests but if you are-
a weed smoking sesh with Jesse. That's it. That's the ask.
Blunts and blood
(Jesse x f!reader)
Word count: 2242
Summary: Things get out of hand during a movie and smoking session
Warnings: mentions of weed/marijuana, fluff, friends to more, mentions of blood, kissing
A/n: I’m having so much fun writing these! thanks so much for the prompt! Sorry for it being short, I’m still sick but trying write while I lay around 🫶🏼 gif sets linked below

Just minutes before you came knocking on his door Jesse had decided to relax by partaking in his favorite recreational activity. One second he was relaxing on the couch letting the weed do its thing and the next he was standing up desperately flinging a book in the air to rid the room of its smokey haze before answering.
He thinks he's in the clear until he opens the door and sees you standing with a knowing smile as the marijuana smell hits you in the face, "Are you ready—oh woah–"
His hand grips the door and his face flushes slightly. You have to laugh at the look on his face, like he's been caught with his pants down, "Relax captain wyoming I don't care"
You hold up an old VHS, still standing outside in the snow, "Don't tell me you forget about the movie night you promised me"
"No, of course not—uh come in"
He moves to the side, opening the door wider so you could enter his small home. Movies nights had been a tradition you'd started after finding a box of old VHS tapes on a patrol; setting a goal to watch all of them.
"So you did forget about movie night," You remove your coat and shoes watching as he hurries around the room, trying to clean up until you make stop him in his tracks, "We can always do it another night—"
"No," He says a little too fast before moving the last dirty shirt from the couch so you could sit, "Uh—it just slipped my kind is all, I had a long day"
You glanced at the blunt that he had forgotten on the small table near the couch as you took a seat, "That explains the weed"
"Oh shit—sorry, here let me" He rubbed at the back of his neck, clearly stressed. “I don’t usually—“
"Jesse—calm down," You picked up the blunt and brought it to your lips, taking a hit and blowing the smoke in the direction where he stood. "We all know you're gonna be in charge of Jackson one day, but that day is not today"
He didn’t respond.
"You're dirty little secret is safe with me," When he shifts awkwardly on his feet, you sigh moving your finger over you chest and making an 'x' pattern, "Cross my heart"
He put his hands on his waist nodding once, before grabbing the movie that you left on the table. He fed it into the old machine and the tv switched on.
You're eager to pass him the blunt when he switches the lights off and plops down on the couch next you. He still shakes his head, as if pretending he doesn't smoke until you groan and smack his chest, “Dude, don’t deny me of my dream of getting high with you”
It’s true you always wondered what he was like when he was high. He had a habit of being a rule follower and overall stick in the mud.
He laughed at you, before he takes it and inhales, holding it longer than you thought he would before parting his lips and letting the smoke out. You wouldn't have believed it if you hadn't seen it with your own eyes.
Then he's passing it back to you, eyes trained on the tv glow as the movie began. By the time the movie is about half way through you are both completely stoned, giggling at the screen.
Jesse had just caught his breath when he started laughing again, "Wait—wait, what is this called again?"
"The fast and the furious" You giggled, taking a drink of the beer he had given you to cure the cotton mouth. "Because they are really fast and really furious"
He erupted in laughter again. The joke wasn't funny but in your current states it was the funniest thing you'd ever heard.
At some point during the movie you had ended up sitting with your legs across Jesse's. You didn't mind it and neither did he considering he had dropped his hand and left it sitting on your lower thigh.
It wasn't inherently sexual even when his thumb began to rub absentminded circles on the fabric of your jeans, but it still made your mind wander.
The two of you were friends, meeting first when assigned on patrols and wall shifts together. To pass the time the two of you would get to know each other and become good friends. But you couldn't stop the crush that had grown or the ever present sexual tension that always seemed to linger.
Of course you'd never alluded to any feelings that you might have had for him. Not when you were sure he didn't feel the same way. He was too much of a good guy to make a move, even if he did.
"Man that was unrealistic" He suddenly said, pulling you out of your own head as the credits began to roll.
"What do you mean?" You can't help but smile at him, always curious to know his thoughts on the movies you watched.
"I dunno, I just feel like these street racers got away with a lot of shit," He tried to stifle his laugh, hand still on your thigh only now his palm was flat against you, fingers moving together as he rubbed, "and that Dom guy should have definitely died after getting hit by that truck at the end"
You only hummed, listening to him intently and trying to ignore the tingling that erupted under his touch.
"It reminded me of that movie we watched last month," You yawned, moving slightly so you could look at him better, "uh—I can't remember the name— it was the surfer movie"
"Point break?" He finished your thought, taking a drink of his beer, "How so?"
"Think about it" You pressed, "Undercover cop infiltrates the target group but becomes too involved and has to expose his identity and—"
"Shit, you're right, switch the cars for surfboards–" He interrupts you, grabbing your shoulder and shaking it, "I didn't even think about that"
"It's because I'm smarter than you" You tease, leaning back into the cushions, legs still taking up space on his lap.
"Oh you really think so?" He challenges and you feel his hand start to crawl up your legs.
"Mhmm" You hummed, rolling your eyes at him as the ending song from the movie played in the background. You held your fingers up in between the two of you, counting them as you spoke, "Smarter, funnier, stronger, prettier—"
"All wrong," He suddenly quips, "Except that last one"
You were thankful your red cheeks were hidden by the tv glow, suddenly feeling like a little giddy little girl. It wasn’t the first time he had flirted with you and it wouldn’t be the last.
The moment didn't last long before he began tickling your legs, moving up to your sides. You squirmed uncontrollably as Jesse's fingers danced across you, tickling and teasing every sensitive spot on your body. His touch was playful and relentless, a smirk on his lips as he watched you squirm and gasp for breath.
He continued his assault, his fingers relentlessly tickling your skin. He relished the sound of your squeals and giggles, the way your body squirmed and twisted under him. His eyes filled with amusement.
"Jesse" You squeaked out when your sides began to hurt from the tickling and you could no longer take it. You try to move away from him but in the mess of arms and legs you end up lifting your leg and kneeing him right in the nose.
"Fuck" He groans quietly, suddenly halting the tickling and sitting up. When you open your eyes after catching your breath you realize he's holding his nose.
You immediately start apologizing as he stands from the couch and moves into his kitchen. You jump from the couch following him, the panic sobering you up.
In the kitchen he leans against the counter by the sink with a rag up to his nose. You rush over standing in front of him and touching his arm, "Jesse, I am so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to—"
“Y/n, it’s fine, I’m fine” He touches your shoulder, trying his best to reassure you, “It’s my fault anyways—I was the one tickling you”
You move his hand away, so you could inspect it, "Well it's not broken," You sigh in relief after a minute, moving his hand back to hold it with the rag as you cross his kitchen to the freezer pulling out an ice cube. You stand back in front of him, "This should stop the bleeding"
He gave you a look, but still let you move his hand again and hold the ice cube to his nostril. He winced at the icy feeling on his skin but didn't move knowing you wouldn't let him. He watches you amused at the way you fuss over him.
A silence fell over the room as the VHS ended and the song stopped playing. The only thing you could hear now was Jesse's breathing as you moved the ice and checked the bleeding again.
After a couple of minutes you drop the ice into the sink beside him and take the rag from his hand, patting his now wet nose dry, "–there I think it's done bleeding”
He sniffles, touching the back of his hand against the nostril before giving you a lopsided smile. Now that he was taken care of you realized just how close you were standing in front of him.
"What?" You say, letting out a nervous laugh.
"I guess I was wrong," He says, glancing at your lips before looking back to your eyes. When he sees the confused look on your features he adds, "That was a solid hit, so turns out you are pretty and strong”
"Shut up" You whisper, laughing it off and dropping the bloodied rag next to the now melted ice cube before looking back at him.
His gaze was boring into you. Almost as if he was challenging you. A game of who would be the one to pull away first, "Too late"
Jesse pushed himself off the counter ever so slightly, just enough to lean toward you. He reached out and cupped your chin gently, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. The air between you humming with tension. Then his were lips brushing against yours in a tentative touch, as if asking permission.
Your heart raced as you kissed him back, leaning into him, his touch intoxicating. Your hands found his shoulders, holding yourself steady.
It was soft and uncertain at first, but as the seconds passed and you reciprocated, the kiss deepened, an unspoken desire igniting between you.
You felt like you were ascending out of your body as if every cell in your body was going to erupt, especially when you felt him smile against your lips. If you weren’t already holding yourself up against his body you were sure your knees would’ve buckled.
You parted your lips, sliding your tongue along his bottom lip before he returned the gesture. Within seconds your tongues were tangling together. You gasped as he moved you, switching positions so your back was against the counter without ever leaving your lips.
In a quick motion he had dropped his hands to your waist and lifted you so you were sitting on the cold countertop. You immediately opened your legs so he could stand closer to you.
You kept your eyes closed, enjoying the way he felt on you and against you, feeling like you were dreaming. You pulled back slightly so you could angle your head and when you were back on his lips you were meant with an overwhelming metallic taste.
“Jess” You muttered against him, not wanting to ruin the moment but concerned enough to come to your senses.
He hummed, hands finding their way back to your face, moving into your hair to hold you. He was clearly too distracted to taste the blood.
You sighed, taking your hand and pushing his chest carefully, until he slowed his kissing and pulled back altogether, just enough to look at you.
“What’s wrong?” He moved his hands to your shoulders, moving them up and down in an effort to soothe you, thinking he had done something to upset you. “I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have got carried away like that”
“No—no that was nice,” You corrected, smiling at him before leaning over and grabbing the rag back from the sink, “You’re bleeding again”
You dabbed the skin under his nose and pulled it back to show him the fresh blood.
“Sorry” He sighed, dropping his head against your shoulder in defeat, careful to not drip any blood on you. “—really ruined the mood”
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” You admitted, continuing to hold the rag in place as he lifted his head back to look at you, “–nothing is ruined, just paused until the bleeding stops”
You moved the rag slightly so you could press your lips against his in a quick kiss. The tang of his blood mixing with the sweetness of your own lips in a peculiar union.
He nodded, sporting a goofy smile as he let you tend to him once again, both of you impatiently waiting for the bleeding to stop.

#the last of us hbo#jesse tlou#jesse the last of us#young mazino#the last of us#tlou hbo#tlou2#x reader#self insert#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou part 2
202 notes
·
View notes
Text
Being a part of the team would include headcanons
anon said: hello!! can I please request some headcanons where reader is a part of the fast and furious team and maybe even their reaction to finding out brian is a cop? thank you!!
A/N: heyy, love!! thank you for requesting, hope you like this, sorry for the long wait!
THIS IS SET IN THE FIRST MOVIE AND WITH THE ORIGINAL TEAM, WHILE BRIAN WAS WORKING UNDERCOVER
TAG LIST IS OPEN
You met Dom and Letty at a race night downtown
They like the respect you show others, treating them as equals despite whomever they were and of course, they like the way you drive
And so, they tell you to race with them
Although you lost to Dom, you did manage to beat Letty in a race, and she chuckles when you compliment her about her driving and says that you only won because of luck
She even tried to give you her car, as you two had bet, but you tell her to keep it. Your garage was too small for two cars anyway, and in that moment Dom decides he really likes you
He invites you to his house for a beer later on that day with them and some other friends, and you accept
Dom's house was quite welcoming. There were people entering and leaving through the front door and loud music came from the inside, as well as the smell of beers
Once inside, Dom and Letty gave you a Corona and introduced you to their team, their family
Jesse, Leon, Mia and Vince. They were all cool and welcomed you with taps on the shoulder and smiles, followed by laughing and congratulations when they heard you had beaten Letty on a race
After that day, you would often meet in races and enjoy some friendly time together
More and more, you started to get invited to their parties and family meals and when they told you to make the prayers one day before starting to eat, that's when you knew you had been completely and without a doubt accepted.
You were a part of their family now and as you had none ever since you were just a teen, you felt more than happy about having people to love and call yours
One year later, it felt like you had always been there with them, sharing almost every day and meal together. You had developed different relationships with all of them and yet, they all loved you and you loved them
Dom watched over you like a little sibling, always caring for your well being and making sure you were good. He deeply appreciated the time you spent in the garage together, fixing cars and drinking Coronas
Letty loves the fact that you are always up for anything she has in mind. Let's race? Sure, get in. Wanna grab a beer? Yeah, of course. Let's make some popcorn and watch a movie with the others in the living room? Turn on the TV, I'll grab the popcorn. You are very good friends, and that's special to her
Mia likes the fact that even though you run with the team and take part in all their dangerous doings, she has never seen you mistreating people or being violent without extreme necessity. Your heart is good, and she values that
Jesse feels comfortable enough around you to speak a lot about the functioning of the cars he is currently working on. You don't mind him sounding like a know-it-all, like the others sometimes do. He is very smart and gifted, and so you were very interested to know even a bit of what he knew
Leon enjoys your company for practically everything but what he likes the most, is when you and him go to the races together in the same car when you do not intend to run on that night and you keep watch over the police radio together while the others run. He used to do it alone all the time and to have a company for it, comment the races and compliment other people's cars, just makes him feel really good
Vince was a bit distant in the beginning. Not because he didn't like you, but that's just the way he is with strangers. He warmed up little by little to you and finally, after some months where racing and drinking together became a thing to you both, you came to the conclusion that you could finally call him a friend
Things went perfectly, you felt much better than when you lived all alone across the city and on top of that, you were all making really good money with the truck robbery's
And then, Brian came
The first few times you saw him eating those horrible sandwiches, you knew he was there just because of Mia. You teased her a lot about it, and she just rolled her eyes at you
Vince didn't like him at all, and more than once you had stopped him from just going and beating the blond right then and there
When Brian started racing with you and getting invited to the house, you were friendly with him, because that had been you in his place not so long ago
You liked the guy, even though he was most of the time too reckless for his own sake
You became friends too, and he would come to you to ask questions about things he didn't understand or about the others
And you casually tell him over a few beers in the porch, just enjoying the breeze and laughing together
When you found out he was a cop, you felt extremely betrayed
Because you had been the one to tell him a lot of the things he knew about the team and guilt consumed you
Also, he had been tricking Mia, and you loved her like a sister
You couldn't look him in the eye, couldn't believe he had been faking all that time you spent together, racing together
He wasn't your friend, he was just a cop doing undercover work
And that hurt you a great deal not just because he had hurt you
But also, because he had hurt your family
#imagine#x reader#fanfic#imagines#headcanons#fast and furious#fast and furious imagine#fast and furious fanfic#fast and furious headcanons#dominic toretto#letty ortiz#brian o'conner#vince#mia toretto#leon#jesse
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
While I was watching fast and furious a couple hours ago I had this thought where Reader is Jesse's younger sister. And Reader falls for Cipher of course because why not she's fucking hot!
#fast and furious saga#Cipher x Reader#Jesse#Cipher#Charlize Theron#Chad Lindberg#charlize theron my beloved 😍
47 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi heard u were taking requests and i really love ur writing! can i req an ellie x f!reader where they sort of have a fight because of her close relationship with dina (reader sort of gets defensive when ellie asks why they don’t hang out but like it escalates) and then at the ball, she sees u dance with jesse, cue in MASSIVE jealously on ellie’s behalf and then it just clicks that she likes you… would prefer a happy ending 🫣🫣 for the sake of everyone on the ellie tag pls
How Does It Feel?
Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader
AN: ugh love this <3
Warnings: arguing, swearing, jealousy, kissin'

(Comment Credits!)
-
This wasn't how patrol was supposed to go.
Usually patrol with Ellie was fun: taking out infected, making stupid jokes, sometimes gossiping or even flirting. But today you were feeling sick to your stomach around her.
You couldn't help but noticed how touchy her and Dina had been lately and how much time they were spending together. Sure - they were best friends, you all were, but you saw the way Ellie looked at her and the way Dina would smirk back. It made you furious. So the past week and a half every time Ellie asked to hang out you would brush it off or say you had picked up another patrol assignment and would be busy.
Now she had confronted you about it, and now you were fighting about it.
"It's nothing Ellie stop worrying about it." You grumbled while working on your gun at a workbench.
She huffed, "Y/n please just tell me what's wrong, I want to help."
"Yeah well..." you blew off some dust on your weapon, "you kinda can't."
"Kinda?"
You slammed your hands on the table, "Just stop! I told you to give it up already."
Her speckled nose started to scrunch indignantly, "You don't have to be a dick."
You gripped the cleaning cloth in your hand with enough force to crush a baby's skull and looked at Ellie in disbelief. But alas, you shook your head and decided not to entertain it anymore.
"Is it something I did?"
"Oh my god Ellie-!"
"Stop fucking avoiding my questions and just tell me yes or no!"
You could just smack her, "I don't have to tell you anything actually, so why don't you and Dina go eat shit and fuck off." Your attention turned back to your gun.
Ellie's jaw all but dropped on the floor.
She pointed to herself in frustration, "Oh so this is my fault? Ya know I wouldn't be hanging out with Dina all the time if you wouldn't keep leaving me in the dust or telling me you're 'busy.' Ever think about that Y/n?"
Heat tingled your skin as your fury grew to more intense levels, "Ever think about why I don't want to fucking hang out with you anymore?" You flashed her a side eye.
"I would like to know so I can fix it!" She was standing on top of you.
After sliding your pistol into your holster you stared her down. Dark green eyes boring back into your own angry irises and her mouth ajar in disbelief.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes!" She exasperated.
"Stop eye fucking Dina every time you see her."
With that you felt the color drain from your face and your instinct was to whirl around and rush back to your horse.
Ellie was left standing and watched you storm off, biting her lip and picking at her nails. Unsure if she should feel insulted that you were threatened by her and Dina's dynamic or upset she had made you jealous, either way she felt a deep guilt lining her stomach.
-
Your hands felt small against Jessie's expansive pecks. He smelled like eucalyptus and the cool winter air as he pressed closer to you and held your hips tighter. Though you were tipsy, you still felt a genuine sense of excitement with him while you danced.
A more fast paced song began to play and he plucked one of your hands from his chest and spun you around leaving you to giggle against him when he snatched you back against his torso.
"You better stop before you make me fall in front of everyone!" You laughed.
"Make me." He smirked as he spun you out and back in, crossing your arms across your chest and swaying with you.
Little did you know, a certain red-headed girl was standing at the bar, grinding her jaw and holding her glass tightly - on the verge of making it shatter in her palm. After you brushed a light kiss against Jessie's neck Ellie tossed back the rest of her drink and went to stomp out of the winter ball, but a particularly sweaty Dina gathered up her wrist and pulled her onto the dance floor.
"Ellie! C'mon and dance with me!" She smiled, definitely drunk. Her face was a relief to see, but also made Ellie's heart leap into her throat.
Dina's back faced Jessie's leaving Ellie to catch glimpses of you over Jessie's much larger figure. You laughed and ogled at him, danced with a smile on your face and bit your lip flirtatiously. Her frustrated, forest glare couldn't peel away from you. That was until you shared a long, intimate kiss with Jessie and Ellie abruptly excused herself and left for her garage.
Pulling away from your kiss just in time you saw a sliver of Ellie's frame rushing through the door, then spotted an utterly confused Dina. Even in your slightly intoxicated state it didn't take a lot to put two and two together and feel your drinks hit the back of your throat.
"S-sorry I'm not feeling good...I need to go." You frowned at Jessie before making a quick exit.
As fast as you could you ran down the steps and followed the imprints of Ellie's fresh tracks in the snow until you saw her lit up by the moonlight on the road.
"Ellie!"
The cold made your airways sting.
Thankfully she turned to glance over her shoulder, but only to furrow her brows and clench her fists at you - yet she waited for you to catch up.
Her stare was deadly. She loomed over you and was nearly vibrating with pent up rage. Jealousy had an iron grip on her rationality.
"Listen.." you sighed, out of breath and still sick to your stomach.
But it was your turn to listen.
"No. Fuck you for chewing me out the other day on patrol just to - to fuckin' -" she pointed to the building where the ball was being held while her words jumbled in her mouth, "you're so frustrating!"
You tried to rack your brain for a rebuttal but every explanation you came up with seemed too pathetic to leave your brain.
"And just for the record, I don't like Dina. So stop trying to get into Jessie's pants because there's no fucking point." A few tears had streaked down her face and she was struggling to catch her breath. "I-I never liked Dina, she's just my friend. You're-"
You saw the words clot in her throat. She had finished the sentence in her brain but her body had slammed on the brakes, leaving her motionless and staring at you in humiliation. The feeling was familiar to you, everyone had experienced it at one time or another, but that didn't stop you from prying.
"I'm what Ellie?"
Her fists grew tighter and her jaw wired shut. It was like she was trying to scream at you telepathically while also cringing at herself internally. All of it made you grow impatient, and knowing Ellie she'd be too stubborn to give you a straight answer (and if she did it would take days), so you took it upon yourself to find what she would refuse to say.
For months you had wanted to do this. Calculating the perfect time, which place and how to create the right atmosphere to optimize the experience, but all of that was thrown out of the window. Right now was the time to do it - perfect or not, in the middle of the street with tension building between you two.
You swooped in, cupping her chilled cheeks and tilting your head, finally planting your lips firmly on her's. The only reason why you didn't pull away sooner was because her lips were so soft and delightfully warm that it made your whole body feel like it had been dipped in warm chocolate, what brought you out of it was a snowflake tickling your nose.
For a beat you stood with your palms resting against her face while you tried to read her, then you stepped back, "I'm what Ellie?"
"You're the one I like."
The words tumbled from her lips. Her eyes were still glossed over and you could tell she was still in a daze.
"Then..." you furrowed your brows, "then why were you flirting with Dina so much? Why didn't you just tell me? You knew I felt the same."
Her fists unclenched and she picked at her fingers bashfully, "Fuck Y/n...I-I don't know, it was stupid. I wasn't sure you felt the same and I didn't want find out yet because I like spending time with you."
"Ellie..." you sighed.
"I'm sorry. I like you Y/n. I really do."
For the first time in a few days her eyes met yours with something other than anger or irritation. To you it looked like compassion and yearning, which you reciprocated without issue. You took one of her nervous hands into yours and held it tightly, taking another step toward her. As if it were natural to her she scooped up your other cold palm, warming it as best she could.
"I like you too Ellie," you smiled, "Kiss me and I'll forgive you."
The words barely left your mouth and her lips were already on yours. This kiss was more than the one you shared before: deeper, more passionate, loving. Her tongue wet your bottom lip and slipped past to taste yours - it all scratched an itch you had been dying to dig at for a long time.
Slowly pulling away with a few last kisses in between, Ellie hummed, "Y/n...you're the one for me."
417 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiiiiiiiiiii :0 may i request a small modern au fic where fem reader, who is jesse’s little sister, asks ellie to help her make her ex bf jealous ? tyyyyy ily
i don’t date my brother’s friends | ellie x f!reader
summary — ellie (kinda) helps you make your ex jealous/also she’s a little jealous too hehe
word count — 2.77k+
genre — modern!au, ummmm fluff ? jealousy stuff
warnings — mentions drinking, kissing, childhood friends kinda, hmm big brother jesse!!, ellie has a crush uuuuu, heavily influenced by one fast and furious scene
a/n: i am literally watching fast and furious while reading this request so now i feel inspired to write about that one scene in the kitchen heheheeeeee ;-; also not proofread:< i hope u still enjoi reading ty for requesting !!
You’ve learned not to date you brother’s friends. It never ended well with you or him. At the end of the day, your big brother, Jesse, ends up punching someone in the eye and that friend is never to be seen again. In a way, you felt guilty. Jesse had a smaller group of close friends now, containing fewer boys in the latter who just wanted to get into your pants. It kind of became a rule that you wouldn’t ever go on a date with his friends ever again. He wanted to protect you in that way where he didn’t have to worry about you and losing some of his friends at the same time. You felt bad, but he always told you, “good riddance.” If he only had friends that would break your heart, then he would choose to not have friends at all.
You were his baby sister; sworn to protect, love and annoy forever.
But, sometimes, you hated that rule. Even though Jesse kept a few of his friends close, there were so many people that knew him already. He’s smart, sporty, and goes to an Ivy League university. Everybody in town knew who he was. It made it kind of hard to date in general. So, the outcome of that was you going on dates in secret. You weren’t some kind of woman who shamelessly had billions of relationships with different people. You were young and you just thought you should experience what romantic aspects life has to offer.
There was someone you went on a couple of dates with just recently. It only lasted for about two weeks before the two of you decided to stop and call it quits. He was a pretty good sport about it, not seeming to have ill feelings or anything.
Despite being on the look for someone to date, you already had your eyes set on someone special. Her name was Ellie. She was a girl who plays guitar, sings, loves art, is space-obsessed and, not to mention, one of your brother’s best friends. You would be lying if you said that she wasn’t even partly the reason why you date a lot of people. Ellie being one of Jesse’s closest friends made it so hard to approach her and even if you wanted to or had a chance, your brother would beat both of your asses.
You don’t talk to her much, especially now that you’re older. The first time you met her, she was someone your brother brought home from middle school, along with other friends like Dina, to do some group projects with. She was nice to you; played with you a lot when you were all alone in the living room with your toys and even helped you with some of your homework sometimes when Jesse wouldn’t. You’ve always had a crush on her. She was pretty. Growing up only made you realize how attracted you were to her.
But in the end, she was your brother’s friend.
It was only until Jesse decided to throw a semi-party at home after finals week when you see her again. You’re sitting at the front porch with a glass of soda, watching as Jesse’s group of friends walk into your house when Ellie comes in with them in her typical baggy attire; jeans and flannel-over-a-shirt look, sporting her usual canvas shoes at her feet. They all greet you with a wave and simple hi’s and hello’s, knowing you were Jesse’s little sister. You make sure to watch Ellie when that happens and she doesn’t say anything and only gives you a short smile and glance with her eyes.
You let out breath as soon as all of them walked through the front door, leaving you alone on the front porch with nothing but the night sky and your soda to accompany you.
After a while, you watch as a familiar car pulls up in your drive way. You close your eyes, hoping and praying it wasn’t the person you thought it was, trying to avoid the upcoming embarrassment you were about to feel in your chest.
Unfortunately, you were right. Your ex walks up to your front door slowly, his eyes on you the entire time.
“Hi,” he call out awkwardly.
“Hey,” was all you said back.
He look at you only for a moment, eyeing your attire. You grow uncomfortable under his gaze but thankfully for you, he didn’t stare for too long.
“You look good,” he compliments you, nodding as he spoke.
You give him the smallest smile you could give, “They’re already inside, eating or something, I think. You can head on in.”
“Thanks.”
The interaction was short, but you wanted it that way. Any longer, you probably would’ve walked away from him rudely. It’s not that you hated him or anything, it’s just the constant awkwardness almost made you nauseous and you couldn’t bear to interact with the person who has been calling and texting you all month about getting back together. You thanked god that he just walked into your house without adding anything unimportant to his dialogue.
You turn to into the window behind you and look through the glass as Jesse’s friends laugh and talk and drink in the living room and dining room with music muffled by the walls of the house. You’re not sure what they’re celebrating but they seem to be having a great time. You let your eyes wander for a moment, looking for a certain girl, until your eyes meet green ones. You immediately turn away and stare at the glass that was now empty in your hand as you hear your heart beating louder and faster in your chest.
What the hell? Was she looking at me?
You decide to shake off your thoughts, fingertips tracing the rim of the glass before headed back inside to refill your cup with some water.
Ellie fixed her green eyes on you the moment you stepped through your front door. Your dress hugged you in all the right places and rippled accordingly down to your knees as you walked through your house. Your hair was pulled back and showed everyone set of dazzling, angel-white teeth, greeting them as you walk past.
Ellie knows you’re pretty. She never really saw it until a year ago when you had just started your senior year in high school. She drove by your place to pick Jesse up, starting their first year of college together. You were no longer that dorky kid she used to know. You’ve started wear prettier things, do your makeup and act all mature. She understands why some of Jesse’s friends try to get to so close to him sometimes—a way to get closer to you. That was until he told everybody that his little sister was off limits. But thinking you were pretty was way different from being attracted to you. Ellie was sure Jesse would have her head for even mentioning taking you out on a date.
Still staring, Ellie watches quietly as you disappear into the kitchen. Her eyes go back down to look at the red, plastic cup in her hand, filled soda.
“Uh, I’m gonna go get more to drink,” Ellie calls out to Jesse who returns with a nod.
Ellie stands and walks over to the kitchen doorway, peaking her head in slightly. You had you back turned to her, looking out the window with a glass of water in your hand and you other hand against the dip of your hip.
Clearing her throat for you to hear, Ellie watches as you jump slightly. You turn you head to look at her with your hand against your chest and a face looking like you were about to scold someone.
“Jesus, Ellie.”
“Sorry.” She smiles and steps into the kitchen, placing her cup down on the marble counter.
“What happened? Is Jesse getting boring?”
Ellie lets out a small, breathy laugh and bows her head before looking back up at you in amusement, “Something like that… I actually was just gonna get more beer.”
You eye the girl in front of you carefully with a smile playing at your lips as you lean against the counter, “But, your cup is full.”
Ellie looks down at her shoes with a smirk. You caught her red handed. You let your eyes wander up and down her body and the way she fidgets only slightly with her feet, avoiding eye contact. Ellie was never one to get nervous, but here she is.
“Do you remember that time you helped me study for my algebra test and I gave you a kiss on the cheek after I got a hundred?”
The girl in front of you smiles at the thought, “Of course, I remember. You were cuter then.”
“Shut up.” You let out a laugh, “You know, I’m pretty sure I had a crush on you around that time.”
Ellie cocks her head to the side, “Oh, I knew you had a crush on me.”
You almost spit out your drink, “What? Since when?”
“For a while,” Ellie smirks. “It was kind of obvious.”
You take a deep breath and smile again, “Yeah, I guess I didn’t work hard enough to hide it. I’m sure your new girlfriends in college would kill me if they knew.”
Ellie raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, “No new girlfriends. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if they knew you were Jesse’s little sister.”
“No new girlfriends?”
“Nope.”
“And why’s that?”
She shrugs and shakes her head again, eyes staring directly at yours before looking back down at the laces of her shoes. How could she be with anyone else when all she can think about is you all the time? You were the reason why her relationships never lasted any longer that a month back then. It drives her crazy.
“Ellie,” you call.
“Hm?” she hums. The way her name slips your mouth makes her heart feel fuzzy. For a moment, that’s all she can think about but after a few seconds she remembered how that boy, who talked to Jesse just earlier, kept looking at you out the window. Her green eyes meet yours once again, “That guy wont stop looking at you.”
You stop and think for a second before putting the palm of your hand to your face, “Don’t even get started with him.”
“What happened,” Ellie asks, watching you carefully. “Don’t tell me you dated him.”
You let a sigh escape your lips, “Just a fling, Ellie. No strings attached. Besides, I told him not to contact me anymore.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem like it.”
Ellie’s tone catches you slightly off guard. You keep a close eye on her, watching as she fidgets with her ring and pinky finger, avoiding your gaze.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
The girl in front of you doesn’t say a word. A part of you is delighted that the girl you’ve been crushing on for a while now has feelings for you. Another part of you feels blue with the fact that the girl, who now has feelings for you, is one of your brother’s bestest friends.
“Oh, Ellie,” you step forward, slowly placing a hand against the side of her face softly, caressing her cheek with your thumb. “I don’t date my brother’s friends.”
Ellie stares at you, hypnotized by the way your lips moved and how close your body was to hers.
“Then why’d you date him?” she says softly, laced with slight jealousy.
“Like I said, Ellie,” you smile. “Just a fling.”
Ellie continues to stare down at your face. It takes all of her strength to ignore her impulsive side and not kiss you right then and there. Your hand on her face feels warm and she just wants you to keep it them for as long as you can.
Unfortunately, you let her go and back up as soon as the two of you heard footsteps coming your way.
Your ex stands at at the doorway, suspiciously eyeing the both of you. His eyes dart to Ellie then back at you as he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
“Hey, (y/n),” he calls out. “Can I talk to you? Alone, I mean.”
Ellie stands up straight and picks her cup back up from the counter, heading towards the fridge, “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just getting a drink.”
You watch Ellie peak her head into the fridge, seemingly looking for something to take. You look over to your ex and shrug as you take a sip of your soda.
“What do you wanna talk about?”
“I’ve been texting you,” he says as he eyes the girl at the fridge. “We on for another date? You can wear your favorite dress and I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.”
You roll your eyes at him and scoff. You’ve made it very clear to him that you didn’t want to interact with him afterwards. You watch as Ellie steps away from the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of beer before placing it down on the counter. You can’t see her eyes, but you can practically steam coming out of her ears.
There were a few more moments of awkward silence before you speak up again, wanting to get rid of him immediately and tease Ellie at the same time.
“Hey, what was that place you, uh, wanted to take me to? Italian?” you ask him with a sultry voice, taking a few steps close to him.
“Oh, the one with the lights?”
“Yeah, yeah, lights and stuff…” you say, reaching out to play with his necklace as he smirks at you. “What was it called?”
“Valentina’s,” he replies slowly, smirk growing wider by the second, buying your fake flirting.
You can practically feel Ellie’s eyes boring into the back of your head as you continued to flirt with him right in front of her.
Your lips curved into a devious smile as you pulled away from him slowly, letting go of the thin chain that wrapped around loosely on his neck before turning over to the girl behind you. You step into her personal space, bodies so close together that they were almost touching.
“You can take me there,” you say, looking up at Ellie with a sly smile, playing with the buttons of her unbuttoned flannel, “What do you say? Pick me up at ten?”
Ellie stares at you. How could she turn that down?
“Yeah, ten is good,” she says, smirking slightly as she glances up at the guy you were just talking to.
Ellie watches him curse and walk away, infuriated at what he had just witnessed. Footsteps fade away and after deciding to ignore him, Ellie turns to look down at you once again.
You stand still and your eyes were no longer looking up at her. All she could see, feel and smell was the top of your head, hair giving off a fresh scent of some fruity shampoo you’ve been using lately, and your small hands still playing with her buttons and the graphic tee she wore underneath it. You were still so close to her and it was surely driving her more towards the edge.
“Hey,” Ellie says.
“Oh, sorry.”
You look up and smile as you were about to step away from her, pulling your hand back away from her shirt. To your surprise, Ellie grabs your wrist and pulls you closer as close as possible, the front of your body pressing against hers.
“What are you doing?” you ask her.
“I’ll show you.”
Before you know it, Ellie slips her arm behind your waist and presses her lips against yours. You melt at her touch, wrapping your arms around her neck pulling her deeper into the kiss. Her teeth sinks down to your bottom lip softly, making you moan in surprise. Ellie takes that opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth, groaning against you. Your tongues clash and fight each other with breathy moans before Ellie suddenly pulls away from you.
“What?”
You can see Ellie’s eyes staring right past you, towards the doorway of the kitchen with a serious look on her face. Her jaw clenches for a second right under your nose as you gaze at her in confusion. It only takes a second for realization to hit you hard.
Pulling away from Ellie as quick as you can, as if it was any help to the situation, you turn around and stare at the figure behind you.
Jesse stands at the doorway with eyebrows furrowed and and his jaw hanging slightly.
“What the fuck are you two doing?”
a/n: hehehehhehehe ok as i was writing, i realized it wasnt really ellie “helping” and i’m rlly sorry if u didn’t enjoi it :< ty for reading
please check rules before requesting!
#ellie is so FOOOINE in that gif holy#ellie x reader#ellie williams#the last of us#tlou#ellie tlou#tlouii#video games#jesse#the last of us part 2#ellie imagine#fanfic#imagines
367 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey!
I read some of your fast and furious imagines and I have to say they’re really well-written and super cute!
And since I saw you were taking requests, i thought i’d throw my hat in the ring for more fast and furious content :)
Anyway, my request is a brian x fem!reader where they both like each other and dom basically becomes brian’s wingman and helps them get together? I thought it was a cute and funny concept (haha) ☁️
Movie: Fast And The Furious Love interest: Brian O'Connor
Request: up top
Some info before start: (Y/N) = your name (Y/F/N) = your full name (H/C) = your hair color (H/L) = your hair length (E/C) = your eye color (F/C) = your favorite color
"Why Dom?! You know I hate dates... and then you still got me set up on a date! But let's not forget it's one of your friends!" You huffed. You stood in the Toretto house, in front of Dom. Arms crossed and looking like an angry bomb that could explode any moment. When you walked inside you walked straight up to Dominic and began yelling at him. Letty, Mia, Vince, Leon, and Jesse immediately left the house, because they have all been in Dom's situation just for another reason, except Jesse he has only experienced it.
"It's good for you to meet new people," Dom said calmly, too calm for your liking.
Then you got an idea.
"Fine, but I get to use your car for the rest of the month." Dom nodded after a few minutes of silence.
You turned with a smirk on your face and walked out of the house towards your car. The others stood leaning against their cars and just looked at you. You got in your car and turned the ignition on, it roared to life and speed off way over the speed limit.
You drove home, took a bath, brushed your teeth, and changed clothes. You drove to the destination where your date was. You saw a Toyota Supra there reminded you of Brian.
When you first met Brian your stomach erupted into butterflies and since then you have had a crush on the golden-haired boy. You got out of the car and took a look around.
There was a small cafe where Dom said my 'date' would be waiting. You took a deep breath and walked inside. You were hit with warm and a cozy feeling. You looked around and noticed that there was only one person in the cafe... Brian O'Conner. You walked closer to him and he lifted his head to meet my gaze.
"(Y/N), what are you doing here?" Brian asked.
"I have a date here, Dom said that my date would be here."
"Funny, Dom said the same to me. Sit down," he gestured to the chair across from him. You sat down and began talking and ordered coffee.
After two hours of talking to Brian, he paid for the coffees. You and Brian walked hand-in-hand outside and down a little path. Brian stopped walking and turned to look at you. You turned to meet his gaze and smiled at him.
His face inched closer to yours and you met in the middle and kissed his soft lips. You closed your eyes and he inched closer to you and held your waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck and pressed him closer to you.
He broke the kiss and looked deep into your opened eyes.
"(Y/N)... will you be my girlfriend?"
"Of course I will goldie locks." Before he had the chance to kiss you, you kissed him hard.
♫ I know it's short, but I hope you like it! ♫ ♫ Love: your writer Crabat♫
#brian o'conner x reader#brian o'conner#fast and the furious#fast and furious x reader#dominic toretto#dom toretto#fluff#paul walker#the fast and the furious#request#car#date#blind date
800 notes
·
View notes
Text
MARKED UP
Leon figured out a way to make his claim to you, maybe in just not the most conventional way.
Pairing: Leon (fast and furious) x reader
Warnings: Literally just making out sorry to disappoint :)
It was quiet not many people in the shop today, leaving you and Mia basically doing nothing.
“It’s boiling.” You complain pouting as you fan yourself with your hand.
Mia snorts at you from where she leans head in one of her text books.
“The AC will be back on soon, don’t be a baby.”
You let out a huff of indignation stomping over to her and drape yourself over her. She lets out a noise of disgust trying to push you off her.
“Ew! Get the hell off me.” She complains loudly and you can practically feel Doms annoyance from where the two of you are.
You smile down at her sweetly, “Don’t be a baby Mia.”
She shoves you harshly once more and you let out a laugh finally getting off her.
She sends a glare your way before catching sight of a customer before you and smiling over at them.
“Hey, Ham and cheese right?” She asks and you hold back a sigh of annoyance as you realise who it is.
He’s young about the same age as you. But you can tell he’s not from around here. He’s been here for the last month coming in every lunch to get a sandwich.
Now that would be fine, the part that isn’t is the incessant flirting. The man will not take no for an answer no matter how many times you tell him you have a boyfriend.
“Yeah thanks that would be great.” He tells Mia before turning to you and you can’t already feel his excitement as he greets you. He looks you up and down appreciatively and you can feel your skin crawl.
“Hey, looking good.”
You stare at him deadpan and can hear Mia snort in the background when she sees your face as she begins to make the sandwich.
He leans against the counter a smirk on his face as he starts talking and you wish that you could throw something at it.
“So I was thinking..” he starts.
“Try not strain yourself too much.” You interrupt him.
He doesn’t even pause at your comment even as Mia lets out a laugh in the background.
“Me and you? Dinner tomorrow? I know this great place. You would totally love it. It���s got this rea-“
“No. Just no. What part of I have a boyfriend do you not get.” You ask him any patience you may of had long gone.
He shrugs looking you up and down. “I don’t see a ring on it.”
“Well there is in fact a ‘ring on it’ so I would appreciate if you’d respect that and stop asking.”
He simply smirks again leaning towards even closer to you. “I’d appreciate if I could see what’s under that top but we can’t always get what we want can we baby?”
You open your mouth to no doubt say some very choice words to him when you hear four cars pull up fast. You feel Mia pause from behind you where she had clearly come forward to give this man a piece of her mind and feel her retreat back to finish the sandwich as quickly as possible.
Sending him a harsh glare as she does so. He either doesn’t see it or just does not give a shit. You can’t find yourself caring as you hear the car doors slam and hear Jesse talking loudly.
A smile comes to your face and you look past him as Leon, Jesse, Letty and Vince enter.
“Hey, girls.” Letty says to you and Mia before entering Doms office who you can tell has been listening into this guy’s conversion for the past five minutes.
Jesse and Vince plop down at the counter clearly ready for lunch while Leon comes round the counter kissing you on the cheek as he wraps an arm around your waist.
“Hey sweetheart.” He greets you and you smile up at him. “Been busy?” He asks and you shake your head.
“Nah quiet morning.”
“You look pretty.” He tells you grinning and you smile up at him blushing slightly. Doesn’t matter how long you two have been together you always blush when he complements you.
You only remember that the guys still there when he clears his throat making everyone look at him. He has his sandwich now you realise gratefully as you know he will leave soon.
“Just think about it yeah?” He tells you as he sends Leon an annoyed look clearly sizing him up before he’s gone. You all watching him leave.
“That’s him?” Vince asks judgment clear in his tone. And you see a similar expression on Jesses face.
“Yep.” You tell them a grimace on yours.“Honestly You should hear the utter shit he says.”
Jesse winces sympathetically. “That bad?”
“I don’t think he understands the word no.” You tell them all annoyed.
Mia laughs at that. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Want me to say something to him?” Leon asks you a brow raised questioningly.
“Don’t think it would do much honestly, you’d need to do something a lot more drastic.” You tell him laughing slightly leaning into him more.
“Yeah just give her a hickey or something.” Jesses says casually. Vince let’s put a roar of laughter smacking the counter hard as he laughs. Leon snorts bring you and you can feel him shaking in silent laughter. Even Mia laughs at the bluntness. And you can hear Letty and Dom laughing in the office.
You blush hard leaning forward and slapping his arm harshly.
“Jesse!” You hiss scandalised.
He jumps back in surprise looking around confused. “What??”
You let out a groan and fully step away from Leon to start making them all lunch. He stays where he is for a moment pondering Jesses idea before smirking. Maybe he will.
<3 <3 <3
You let out a whine as he latches on again and you know there will be a red angry mark there later. He’s been at it for hours and you don’t think there’s a part of your neck and chest that isn’t marked at this point.
He had you in his lap one hand tightly around your waist keeping you nice and close to him the other gently holding onto your jaw angling your head up so he can reach all of your neck as he pleases.
Leon was a jealous man but not violent and as much as he would of loved to smack the shit out of the man who kept flirting with you at the shop this was the next best thing.
Now no one could look at you and be mistaken that you weren’t already taken.
He sucks one last time before disconnecting and looking over his handiwork proudly.
“Let’s see him try flirt with you now sweetheart.” He says leaning back and pulling you down gently to kiss you. He loves seeing you all marked up as his.
And well if the man the next day happens to stare in shock so hard he can’t speak a proper sentence that’s just an added extra. Now he will think twice before flirting with you.
49 notes
·
View notes
Note
A neko reader who has damage on her ears and tail only for Asa and jesse to find out the reader was abused
Asa Emory x Jesse Cromeans x Neko Reader With An Abusive Past.
- Between the scarring on your body including on your ears and tails plus your skittish behavior it wasn’t hard for them to figure out you’d been abused.
- They’re careful to not be too fast or loud always try to let you see where their hands are.
- They won’t touch your ears or tail without permission knowing how touchy you are about them.
- They don’t push for info waiting for you to be comfortable enough to tell them.
- When you do they’re furious, not at you but the people who hurt you, your so-called ‘family’.
- They were a superstitious bunch who’d been disgusted by your appearance believing you to be some sort of demon.
- Jesse and Asa assure you that you are no such thing and that what your family had put you though wasn’t right.
- They’ll hold you whenever you want or need to be held, they’ll kiss you and scare away any nightmares.
- They promise you that no one will ever hurt you again they’d kill them before they could lie a finger on you.
#Asa Emory#Jesse Cromeans#The Collector#Chromeskull#The Collection#Laid To Rest#Jesse Cromeans x Asa Emory#Asa Emory x Reader#Jesse Cromeans x Reader
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Computer Nerd - Jesse
Pairing: Jesse x Reader
Characters: Jesse, Letty Ortiz, Vince
Warnings: N/A
Request: @wraith-queen-todd: “Can you do an imagine for Jesse from fast and the furious. Just fluff or something with his s/o and like he’s working on a car and she just comes up and hugs him.”
Word Count: 522
Author: Hannah
To say that you parents weren’t the most impressed with your choice of friends was an understatement, but they were even more displeased when you started dating one of them.
You and Mia had been friends since you were little, when you started hanging out with her brother and the rest of his friends though, you parents began to have an issue.
It would be hard to disagree with the fact that they weren’t exactly the most law-abiding people, but they took care of their own, and you were one of their own.
Unfortunately, once you and Jesse started going out your parents flipped with you and that’s how you ended up living at Mia and Dom’s place.
When you turned up at their café with your belongings in a couple of duffle bags, Mia hadn’t taken no for an answer and told Dom that you were going to be living with them.
Jesse had panicked of course because you were essentially kicked out because of him but you couldn’t say that you were all that bothered over it all – your parents had made their decision and you had made yours.
Ever since then, you had been helping out at the café but also at the garage where the boys worked on their cars.
When you walked in, you saw Jesse with his head over the engine of a car.
You made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his back.
He chuckled. “Hello there,” he stated as he straightened up.
Smiling as he turned around, Jesse leant down to kiss your forehead.
“And what have I done to have you being so nice to me?”
You giggled at him as you went up on your tiptoes to kiss him properly. “I’m always nice to you.”
“You were nice enough to say yes when I asked you out,” he told you with a smile.
“Give me a reason why I wouldn’t say yes,” you challenged making him laugh.
He shrugged, rubbing his thumb on your waist. “We always thought you and Vince might end up together.”
The shock and distaste on your face must’ve been evident as Jesse burst out into laughter, managing to gain the attention of everyone else in the garage.
“Why on earth is he cackling like a hyena?” Letty quizzed as she looked at Jesse in confusion.
You sighed, rolling your eyes. “He suggested that me and Vince should go out.”
“You should have seen the look on her face!” Jesse came out with in between his laughter.
“Oi!” Vince’s voice echoes across the garage. “Am I really that bad?”
You shrugged, a slight smile on your face. “Not my type Vince!”
“Oh, and computer nerd is?!” came the reply.
That made Jesse stop laughing as he stepped forward to wrap his arm around you. “Don’t be jealous Vince!”
Vince didn’t reply but you looked to Jesse, who was smiling goofily at you. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He chuckled, pulling you into a kiss that you practically melted into. “And I’m not too bad at the other stuff either.”
#Hannah#Jesse#Jesse One Shot#Jesse Imagine#Fast and Furious#Fast and Furious One Shot#Fast and Furious Imagine#Request#Vince#Letty Ortiz#Computer Nerd#@wraith-queen-todd
222 notes
·
View notes
Text
Paid Love – Part 16 - A dream coming true
Request: Can request multiple chapters or a series where Dean is a businessman he doesn't have a lot of time for dating and can't really have one nightstand because of his reputation so he gets on an escort service where he meets the reader a college student trying to pay for intuition. Later Dean and her fall in love.
Pairing: AUDean x Reader, Sam Winchester, John & Mary Winchester, Jessica More, Deana Campbell, Benny Lafitte, Bobby Singer, shitty parents
Warnings: angst, pregnant reader, comforting, fluff, a double wedding, and some trouble
Paid Love Masterlist
“We look like twins!” Jess squeals looking at you and then at herself in the mirror.
“I don’t think so. You look like a tall super-model and me like a huge Marshmallow man wearing a wedding dress.”
“The babies’ have grown fast. Y/N, you are seven months pregnant and beautiful, just like me. Dean will die seeing you in this dress, walking down the aisle.”
“You think so?”
“He loves you, Y/N. I know Dean since I met Sam at Stanford. I never saw Sam’s elder brother happier than with you by his side. Believe me, Y/N. There’s nothing in the world making Dean happier than marrying you today.” Jess says and you need to hold back the tears.
“I see the same love watching Sam looking at you. I guess we are two lucky ladies, Jess.”
“We are, sister. Now let’s rock the church and get our men!” She chuckles and you start laughing.
“Let me help you with your bridal veil.” Getting the thin lace, you help Jessica to place it on her head - careful to not destroy her hairstyling.
You decide to go for a simple silky wedding gown. It has a long train and little flowers are imprinted. Your hair is falling over our shoulders in soft curls and a single white orchid is placed just above your left ear. You chose the same flowers for your bridal bouquet.
The door silently opens and Mary along with Deana and Jessica’s mother enter the room. You wish you had your mom by your side, but you know she would’ve ruined the day for you, Dean and everyone else.
You don’t need your old family. All the people caring about you are here today. Even Bobby came around. Wearing a suit for the first time in years he had tears in his eyes seeing you in your wedding dress.
“You two look beautiful.” Mary sniffs holding your and Jessica’s bridal bouquets in her hands. “John is waiting for you.”
“John?” You ask.
“I know he’s not your dad, Y/N but John would be honored to lead you down the aisle and handle you over to your groom. Only if you want him to, of course.”
With tears in your eyes, you nod eagerly. “Of course, I want him to. Thank you…”
“Hey, don’t cry on your wedding day. Keep that for the wedding night if Dean fails to satisfy you.” Deana chuckles and you flush red.
“Mom, I think my sons are doing a great job,” Mary says handling you and Jess your bouquets.
“Mary…” Jessica gasps her face even redder than yours.
“It’s true, my dear. John is a stallion too. Now let’s concentrate on the wedding. Jess, your dad is waiting outside along with John. As Sam and you planned the wedding first you will be the first walking down the aisle as you and Y/N decided some weeks ago. After that John will lead Y/N toward Dean and then we will have two more Winchesters or rather five, including the babies in our family.” Mary squeals and you can’t help yourself but smile at her.
You wish your mom was just half as good as a mom as Mary. Her smile is honest, her eyes shine, and she is warm and welcoming.
“Okay. Do you two have everything? Something, new, old, borrowed and blue?” Deana asks.
“I’ve got a new dress and my garter is blue.” You say.
“You need something old and borrowed…wait. I know.” Mary says already opening her purse to show you a box with a beautiful necklace. It must be old and very precious.
“I can’t Mary…”
“Don’t you dare to say no to me. It’s my grandmother’s wedding necklace. My mom wore it, I wore it and now you will wear it. Jessica got my grandmother’s veil.” Mary says. Not accepting any arguments, she takes the necklace oout of the box to put it around your neck. “There you go, Y/N. Now you’ve got something old and something borrowed.”
“Thank you, Mary.” You whisper.
“Now, now…no tears my dear. Do not ruin our make-up. I can’t cry right now…John would make fun of me. Let’s roll ladies…let’s blow your future husbands away with your beauty.”
“Alright. Let’s do this.” Jess says nervously holding your hand.
“Deep breaths. You are marrying the man you love, Jess. We are going to rock this wedding.” You whisper and all women start laughing.
“I know why Dean loves you,” Deana says squeezing your shoulder. “He never was happier. Now go out there and get your man.”
----
“Why are they taking so long?” Dean asks his brother. He can’t wait any longer. Dean needs to see you walking down the aisle in your wedding dress. He almost got a glimpse, but Jessica hit his head and chased him away.
“Relax, Dean. First Jessica will come with her dad and then Y/N. She will not play runaway bride.” Sam whispers.
“Runaway bride?” Dean asks panicked. What if you run away? What if you do not walk down the aisle. His hands ball into fists as the music starts playing. He can see Jessica and her father smiling at everyone and Sam, his little brother Sammy is smiling like never before seeing his bride walking down the aisle.
“She’s beautiful, Sammy. You’re one lucky bastard. Don’t mess things up with her. She’s a keeper.” Dean whispers.
“I know,” Sam says as he takes Jessica’s hand.
----
“Ready?” John asks offering you his arm. “Just take a deep breath, Y/N we all love you. Dean loves you and we are going to do this better than Jess and her father.” John rumbles and you smile at him.
“Let’s rock the church, John.” You whisper and he smiles at you.
“Dean will faint seeing you in this dress. You are beautiful and Dean will be a good husband. I raised him good and now he can prove he’s worth your love. Winchesters are a catch.”
“I know.”
----
Finally, the music starts again, and Dean looks at the door. Nervously biting his lip he sees John and you walking toward him. Stunned he gulps hard seeing you in the white dress.
“Damn…” He curses and Sam shoots him a look but the expression on Dean’s face let him remain silent. There’s so much adoration all over his brothers face he never saw before.
John is holding your arm tight to stop the trembling of your body. You are beyond nervous seeing all these people watching you, but then your eyes land on Dean and you relax immediately.
Dean doesn’t wait for John to handle you over. Almost running toward you he takes your hand. Mumbling something to his father before leading you toward the altar on his own.
“That was not the plan.” You whisper but Dean doesn’t care.
“Screw plans. I want my wife…” Dean chuckles and you peck his cheek.
“You look beautiful. I mean you look always beautiful but this dress on you…stunning. You might kill me with this outfit.” Dean whispers and the priest glares at him.
----
“Dean have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself in marriage to your bride Y/N?” The priest asks and Dean nods but then he manages to choke a ‘yes’ out. “Will you love and honor her as your wife and be faithful to her for the rest of her life?” The priest asks once again. “Of cause I will,” Dean mutters and you need to hold back a chuckle.
This is so…’ Dean’.
Then it’s your turn to answer the priest’s questions and you want to let Dean roast a bit but then you see the look on his face and you say ‘yes’ before the priest can finish his questions.
“Damn, my bride really wants to be mine.” Dean blurs out and everyone starts laughing.
The rest of the ceremony is a blur. All you remember is Dean looking at you the whole time. His green eyes never leave your face during the whole ceremony and your knees go weak as he puts the ring on your finger and kisses your lips.
“In the Name of God and his Church, I validate this marriage. The best man and the maid of honor and you all present in this church I take for witnesses of this holy covenant. What God has joined; men must not divide."
----
Your legs are wobbling as Dean leads you out of the church after all your friends and Dean’s family, along with Jessica’s felicitated you and Dean.
Now he wants to lead you toward the limousine when you stop in your tracks. You mother and your stepfather are standing along with a reporter and a camera in front of the church.
Dean is furious but he remains calm, to not destroy your special day.
“How can they know?” You gasp.
“Balls!” Bobby mutters seeing your parents and the pained expression on your face. “I’ll handle this, Dean. Lead her toward the car. Ellen and I got this.”
Before you can walk away from your mother a report runs toward Dean and you. Your hand squeezes Dean’s to let him remain calm.
“Why didn’t you invite your own family to your wedding?” The reporter asks and Dean glares at him.
“Maybe as they kicked her out for her worthless stepbrother. Maybe as they are greedy and tried to use their daughter. Maybe as this man is not her father and tried to force himself on her. Or maybe as my wife had to pay everything on her own and slept in her car as her ‘lovely’ mother gave a shit on her. Now leave this place or we will make you leave!” Dean yells and the reporter turns pale.
John, Sam along with Bobby are storming toward the young man and he starts sprinting toward his cameraman.
“Fucking idjit! You vulture!” Bobby yells and the cameraman decides to do some leg work and run…
“I’m sorry.” You whisper.
“What for? These people will never disturb our life again. I promise I’ll take care of the situation.” Dean says before he leads you toward the limousine.
“Benny, call Castiel and Gabriel. I want these two people to stay away from my daughter and Dean.” John orders and Benny nods.
“I’m on it, boss. Such assholes crashing her daughter’s wedding. Selfish till the end.” Benny mutters dialing Castiel’s number.
“What now, John?” Mary asks gently placing one hand onto her husband’s arm.
“Now we are going to make sure these people will never harm Y/N or Dean again. I will play dirty if I must. No one messes with my family…”
Paid love Tags
@king4thesirens, @feuersymphonie, @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat, @mangueweachester
Forever Tags
@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana31, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @anushay1998, @voltage-my2dlove, @kmvld, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @electraphygelectraphyng , @spnhollis, @void-imaginations, @jay-and-dean, @shatteredabby , @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @neii3n, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice @stuckys-whore, @shadowkat-83, @officialmarvelwhore, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @wecantgiggleitsafandom, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @idioticsky, @miraclesoflove, @yolobloggers, @guardian-tn, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @straycuties9
If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.
Dean/Jensen Forever Tags
@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @hawaiianohana31, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter, @dreaminemz, @negans-lucille-tblr @sadwaywardkid, @akshi8278, @hhiggs, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @multisuperfandom, @deansgirl-1968, @justanotherwinchester
#spn#spn fanfiction#angst#fluff#jessica more#Sam Winchester#dean winchester#benny lafitte#mary winchester#john winchester#bobby singer#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#sam x jess#au dean winchester#au dean#au dean x reader#au dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#pregnant reader#dean x you#dean winchester x reader#Paid Love Masterlist#request fill#dean winchester series
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
Best Friends
Paring: Dean x Reader Prompt: Imagine Dean being your best friend but never telling you how he actually felt about you. Imagine him finding out that you had sex with his best friend Part 1 Word count: 2,557 Warnings: Smut, jealous Dean, dirty talking?, 18+
You knew you had no reason to feel the way you did, but you felt the guilt anyways. It was stupid really, how you had been beating yourself up for what you did when you had no reason for doing so.
Dean was your best friend, the best friend had had been there for you when no one else was, the best friend that got you ice-cream and chick flick movies every time you had a bad break up, or simply because you were sad. The best friend you were hopelessly in love with.
You had a great relationship, if people saw you on the streets or at restaurants they would probably think that you were dating, it had a lot to do with the way you looked at him, like he was the only man in the world for you, and in some way he was. And sometimes he would look at you or act like he felt the same toward you, but when you thought he was going to make a move or just say something about it, he would back off.
It was frustrating, really. And you knew you couldn’t wait for him forever, but the thing is that you did, you waited for him, you stopped dating in hopes of him finally making a move, to say something, to love you like you loved him, but he didn’t.
Two nights ago you were out with him and some of your friends, there was his best friend, Sam. He was a really nice guy, caring and you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive. It took you some beers, three shots of tequila and seeing how Dean danced with some bimbo to end up with him, on his bed, naked.
You were both drunk, really drunk and the next morning the memories were a blur, but you both knew what you did and well… you both regret it. Sam had this really massive crush on a girl named Jess and when you told him about how you felt toward Dean you decided that it was for the best to never talk about what happened again.
But still you couldn’t stop feeling like you betrayed Dean, like some sick part of your brain thought that you were together and that same part of your brain kept reminding you of how bad of a person you were, even when you weren’t. Sighing you decided to take a bath, ignoring all your phone calls or messages, they were most of them from Dean, but you weren’t ready to talk to him yet, you knew that if you saw him you would end up telling everything at a first ‘Hello’. So you stripped off your clothes and got into the warm, bubbly water. Trying to forget about Dean Winchester.
-
Dean on the other hand was furious, angry at Sam because he touched someone that belonged to him, angry at you for getting drunk that night and sleeping with his best friend, but he was angry with himself. He was angry because he never told you how he felt towards you, he never acted on his feelings and now he had to deal with the consequences.
He felt a wave of relief when Sam told him that you weren’t actually together, and that you agreed to not talk about that night again, it almost calmed him down, almost. It was funny how that night he danced and flirted with those girls just to make you jealous, he thought that you were going to react and scare all the girls away from him claiming him as yours, because he was yours, but you didn’t, instead you slept with Sam.
Dean looked at himself on the mirror, his eyes were wide, his jaw clenched, jealousy written all over his face. He growled, smacking his fist on the mirror, breaking it in little pieces. He left the the bathroom not before breaking some other stuff and sat on his bed to think. He thought about how life would be if he let his anger break you two apart, he thought about a life without you on it and he didn’t like it, not one bit.
He shook his head, no… he wasn’t having it, he would hate a life without you on it, and he wasn’t ready to spend more nights breaking mirrors and being angry because you slept with someone else. You were his and only his, and he was going to prove that to you.
-
You set the hair dryer down, groaning as you heard the door bell. You had just finished drying your hair and you were only wearing a white button-up shirt, you sighed, deciding to go and look who it was, not changing what you were wearing, if it wasn’t someone extremely important you were going to pretend you weren’t home.
You looked at the peephole, closing your eyes as you saw Dean standing there, ringing the doorbell impatiently. You rested your head on the door, not making any sound. You weren’t ready to see him, you couldn’t. Feeling all the relaxation from the bath leaving your body you grabbed the door knob, pausing.
“Come on, Y/N” Dean knocked the door this time “I know you are there”
Sighing you unlocked the door and opened it, Dean was going to say something but the words got stuck when he saw you, the white shirt stopped covering at your mid thigh, the first three buttons were open revealing a good amount of cleavage and the thin material let your nipples on full display.
“Dean?” your voice brought him back to reality
“Yes” he nodded “Were you expecting someone else? Someone like Sam?” he couldn’t take the bitterness out of his voice.
“Come in” you sighed, there was no way to deny it, so you just got mentally ready to be yelled at.
“You are not even going to deny it?” Dean asked as you made your way towards the kitchen
“It seems like you already know what happened” you shrugged, trying to act indifferent when in reality you wanted to beg for forgiveness “I thought Sam was trustworthy” you mumbled the last part, leaning on the kitchen island.
“Me too” Dean grunted getting closer to you
You turned around to face him, your lower back hit the table making you wince a little, but you didn’t give it much thought, not with Dean getting closer to you, not with his eyes burning every body part he looked at.
“What are you doing here Dean?” you asked, sounding out of breath
“You weren’t answering my calls” he stated, walking closer until his face was a few inches away from yours
“I was taking a bath” you breathed out, following the movement of his lips
“You slept with my best friend” he grunted, making you shiver
“So w-what?”
“You are mine” he simply said before connecting your lips together.
Everything happened so fast you almost felt dizzy, all of the sudden you were sitting on the table, legs wrapped around Dean’s waist. One of his arms was wrapped around you while the other roamed your body, his soft lips never leaving yours.
His hand cupped your right breast making you moan when his thumb rubbed your hardened nipple, Dean growled using both of his hands to rip the shirt apart, the buttons flying everywhere but you couldn’t care less, not when Dean looked at your breasts like he was dying to taste them, licking his lips as he looked at you.
“These” he started, cupping your boobs with both hands “these perfect tits are mine” he squeezed them gently making your back arch “mine to play with them” he pinched your nipples softly, tugging them and letting them go “mine to taste” he groaned, attaching his hot wet mouth to your right bud, sucking it harshly
“Dean” you moaned, tugging his shirt. He got the hint, letting go of your nipple he lifted his shirt over his head, leaving his delicious chest naked in front of you
“Like what you see?” he smirked, you bit your lip, nodding You took the remains of your shirt off, resting your heels against the table leaving yourself fully exposed to him.
“Damn it” he sighed, lowering his face to your wet core, resting his nose in you mound he inhaled “you smell so good” he groaned before attaching his mouth on your pussy. His tongue eagerly seeking for your entrance.
“Dean” you moaned when you felt his wet tongue thrusting inside of you, his nose rubbing your swollen clit.
Your hands clenched around the edge of the table, lifting your hips to rub yourself against his face. Dean quickly stopped you, resting one hand on your abdomen to keep you down, his mouth never stopping its assault against your core.
“Stay put” he groaned against your flesh, making you mewl, the vibrations of his voice driving you crazy.
“Please” you moaned, throwing your head back as you felt your climax approaching.
“No” he grunted, detaching his mouth from you, making you whine at the lost of his touch
“Dean” you breathed out “Please” looking at him with pleading eyes
“You are going to cum until I think you deserve it” he simply stated “If you cum without my consent I’m going to leave, but if you are a good girl for me, I’m going to give you the best orgasm of your life” he leaned down on you core again, his hot breath hitting your wet skin making you shiver “Are you going to be a good girl?” he asked, sinking his teeth on your mound, nipping it softly
“Yes” you moaned, you knew that you would have done anything just to cum right there, but you wanted to fuck him, so you were going to do everything he asked you to do.
He loved the power he had over you, how you were giving yourself to him fully. He wanted to make you come, but he also wanted to know what made you moan or scream, he wanted to know how much you could take, how long it was going to take you to start begging for his cock.
He opened your pussy with his thumbs, moaning at the sight of your juices dripping from your entrance. The tip of his tongue came out to play with your clit, licking it slightly just to tease you, making you squirm under his hand. He sucked the bundle of nerves on his mouth, enjoying your moans and pleas as he entered two fingers, moaning as he felt how tight and wet you were.
“Dean, please” you moaned, as he felt your walls clenching around his fingers
“No” he growled, slapping your thigh making you gasp in surprise. He stopped for a minute, letting your orgasm die before returning to his previous actions.
You didn’t know how much you could take, you felt your body burning and the knot in your stomach was ready to explode, you felt yourself almost letting go when he switched his movements, his thumb went to your clit, rubbing it harshly as his tongue entered your pussy.
“Dean” you screamed, trying to hold your orgasm “I… i c-can’t t-take m-more” you almost sobbed, the pleasure being too much
Dean stopped again, smiled as he looked at you, pleased to have you so desperate for release
“Come here” he grabbed you, kissing you softly as he carried you to your bedroom “I want you in all fours” he commanded as he left you on the bed
You obeyed immediately, ready to be fucked by him, your body begging for release. Dean kneeled behind you, his hands rubbing your ass cheeks, making your realize what was coming.
His hand spanked your right cheek, making you groan at the pang of pain. “That was for teasing me for three years” he grunted, rubbing your red cheek
*Smack*
“That was for sleeping with with my best friend” he kissed that one, slowly licking across the red print he left
*Spank*
“And that one was because you’re mine and you need to understand it”
“Dean” you moaned, the pain of the spanking only making you wetter “Please”
“Look at you” he grunted, grabbing a fist of your hair, but being sure that he didn’t hurt you “such a cock slut” he grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip against your folds “but only for me” was the last thing he said before thrusting into you.
Your hands fisted the bed sheets as he used your hair to pull you towards his cock, one hand rested on your lower back to keep your hips down as he pounded into you, his cock hitting your g-spot every time he thrusted in.
“Dean” you moaned “F-faster” you choked out
“You want it faster, huh?” he grunted, “ask nicely, like a good girl” he teased, not changing his pace
“Please, Dean” you moaned, arching your back “plase fuck me harder” you begged
“Shit” he groaned, thrusting into you faster and harder than before, the obscene sounds of your wetness feeling the room “my little slut likes it rough, huh?” he grunted, using one of his hands to rub your clit
“Yes… FUCK! Yes!” you kept screaming, feeling the sweet release approaching you once again, the knot in your stomach was waiting to explode even harder than before “Please let me cum” you begged, tears running through your cheeks, the pleasure he was giving your was almost unbearable.
“Cum” was all he said, was all he needed to say. You exploited, screams of his name leaving your mouth until your throat ached, your vision blurry and your legs trembled as you squirted your juices as over the bed
“Fuck” Dean moaned, the pleasure of your pussy clenching around him and the sight of you squirting for him sending him over the edge “Y/N” he yelled as he filled you with his hot seed, falling beside you when you couldn’t take it anymore.
The last thing you heard was a 'I love you’ from him before you fell asleep.
-
“Y/N?” you woke up a few hours later, the sun was out and hurting your eyes, you heard a chuckle behind you and turned around, wincing at the sore feeling between your legs “are you okay?” concern washed over Dean’s features
“Just a little sore” you smiled, snuggling closer to him
“I’m sorry” he said, making you look at him “I’m sorry for not telling you about my feelings, I’m sorry about those girls I flirted with in front of you, I’m sorry about hurting you last night” he sighed, looking at your eyes with sorrow and regret on them
“Don’t” you whispered, kissing his lips softly “I love you” you breathed out against his mouth
“Thank God” he grunted, kissing you harder
“Last night was amazing” you broke the kiss to look at him “So what if I can’t walk for a week? It only means that I don’t get to leave the bed” you smiled
“I guess that since I was the one provoking it, I have to stay here too” Dean sighed, faking annoyance
“I could call Sam” you shrugged, arching an eyebrow
“Mine” he grunted before kissing you roughly “Only mine”
“Yours” you smiled
92 notes
·
View notes