ultrabrokengirlposts - Tumblr blog

ultrabrokengirlposts · 2 years ago

Text

The Devil & His Brother

Joel x Tommy x Reader

Prologue / Part One : 6.4K

Summary: The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.” He would get down on his knees and pray to your altar. He would bless it first, kiss it clean, before he would send two fingers to spread open your love.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, eventual smut. enemies to lovers, slow-burn, angst/comfort/sex, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, drugs/pills/alcohol, major daddy issues (that’s why you need BOTH miller brother’s instead of 1). talk of death, shit-talking god & the devil himself.

This was a labor of love, please comment, reblog, & let me know what you think <3

I will take a crowbar and pry out the broken pieces of God in me.

- Anne Carson

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Your soul was given to another man before you had even yearned for the rage to scratch it back yourself- or have a choice in the matter of your own eternity. Two eyes looking down upon you, gazing into the depth of your skull. Where the fuck was he, when his children were screaming on their knees for his forgiveness, for whatever they had done to deserve this?

You couldn’t remember your own baptism- despite seeing countless bodies pushed underwater, coming back anew. Later in life, not coming back up at all. Drowning sinfully sin-less. You were thankful now, that the hard stuff was done when you weren’t old enough to know it- or deny it. You wouldn’t have washed yourself clean for him, drown for him, now.

You were angry at him- you had every right to be. You were utterly alone in a world that was trying to devour you whole by sinking one tooth into any part of your tender flesh. Your eternal soul was saved (given) to a hand in the sky before you even knew what a God was, what he was capable of, what he would allow, and you had suffered for it during life. But now, when it mattered most, you didn’t have to do a goddamn thing but lay here and die. Yet he wasn’t doing his part. What a fucking surprise.

He never came like all the people said he would, like the Bible said. There was no reckoning. Even he was too scared of what he created.

“I ain’t no God, sweetheart.” The sound reverberated through his throat in a sickly Southern accent. He might as well have been. His thick arms were the ones holding you, warming you against the soft flannel. You haven’t been touched by another human in a long time, and the veins running through his arms were suddenly whispering love stories into your own running blood. His hands were so big.

They refused your pleas. “Please, if you don’t do it just hand me the gun.” Always met with a thickly harsh, “don’t think so,” from the one who shot you. The younger one is somehow quieter than the first. You had been full of anger for years, but it didn't seem as heavy as it normally would, despite barking, “You already tried once and failed, let me do it myself then.” He looked at you, surprised that you wasted your breath in such a manner, it had barely come out of the back of your throat to begin with. He huffed a laugh as he turned his head back to his brother before looking straight into the dark night again, focusing on something that wasn't even there. Focusing on anything that wasn’t you.

You were used to men not following through. Your father was the ‘savior’ (born-again post-outbreak pastor)(lier) of a small group, all now a couple of feet underground, frozen in the decomposing water of themselves- and whoever was lucky enough to be thrown in the dug-up hole on top of them. Baptized over and over as the ground warmed in the spring and froze again in the winter. Perpetually drowning until they become what they were trying to escape all along- food for the earth to devour them.

We didn’t burn them, because that would have given us away, invited anyone near to pluck the last of us out, but fire would have been easier. But we don’t do easy, not here. We gather whoever is responsible for your already rotting body and make them throw you into the ground, all in the name of God. You had written a lot into your leather-bound notebook, at first not wanting to fill the pages, because once the paper was gone, there was nowhere else to rip the thoughts out of your head, let them bleed through the pages. You read that specific entry over and over, having memorized it by now, making crinkles in the dusty pages from how many times you turned back to it and prayed to a God that wasn’t there to save them- you.

He was never planning on it.

Your journal was the same color as the Devil’s eyes, darkened honey-brown, alive. You didn’t have many places to look whenever you did have enough spite in you to open your own, body swaying from side to side on a horse that wasn’t yours, in a man's lap that you didn’t know. He looked pretty, even from below, even more so leaning his chin downwards towards your face and gazing up your body. I guess anything safe looks heavenly amidst fire.

Why would they do that? Kill you and then take you along for the ride. They hadn't spoken much for however many days you had been dying, watching as the sun kissed the sky goodnight and welcomed the moon, at least three times. Maybe you were bait for something even bigger- a young woman goes a long way these days. Always has, really.

You had always harbored a deep fear of death. It wasn't exactly the physical suffering that frightened you, but rather the haunting notion of losing loved ones. The consequences of deviating from the life path thrown on you by your parents. There was always this looming presence of the ‘evil’. The Devil… Lucifer, Satan, whatever moniker you choose. In the narrative your parents scripted for you, he was cast as the villain. It was all too funny now, his thighs warming your skin, setting you ablaze.

Lucifer was a beautiful, Southern gentleman- one who spoke quickly and stern. And God sat right next to him, mouth shut, waiting for command. You were so tired of following orders from men but suddenly it’s as if you’ve known all along that his gaze would be the one you melted under. Sludge. Burning flesh. Maybe there was no God. Sure, the other man who sat next to him looked like one, but so does this one. He was an idea, the fear instilled in you, your parents' guilt. But you knew evil more than you knew true good, and the Devil was below you, only cementing that truth further. He was keeping you right here, draped across his lap, and despite your dying, he still caught glimpses of your naked flesh. And you didn’t know if it was eyes burning into you, or the gunshot wound he had so nicely gifted you. You almost wanted to thank him, if that’s what it took for him to wrap himself around you.

Romans 6:4 hung on a carved board in your parent's room after the first wave of death. After your father decided that the group needed someone to lead them, and that your mother wasn’t it, she sat back happily and carved words into worn wood. You had felt safe there, sixteen and under the guise of whatever your parents told you. Young, naive, pure.

‘We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. We’re now dead to the power of sin. Being raised from the water.’ It later hung in the main room of a run-down grocery store turned Church. The church itself was down the street, the rotten door holding in rotten bodies from whoever had come before. Maybe they had sat and awaited the way you all did at first, waiting for their savior. He never rang the doorbell, never knocked. He had just walked right on by, whistling his hymns and being grateful he was above it all.

A new life? If Jesus died for our sins, wouldn’t he be upset with you right now? Laying on your… death horse…. And still not bruising your knees for him? Why can’t he be angry enough to let you slip out of line and take the easier way? I guess suffering wasn’t his go-to, at least outwardly. Fear was more his thing, and fear would eat you alive and cement your veins before true sin ever could. Guilt is what gnaws at your ankles, whispering poetry into your hair. Fear had passed. Anger had too, momentarily. Rage was a common home.

He should have taken you by now, held your hand and kissed your forehead goodnight. But you knew that he wasn’t coming. He never came for your parents either, nor your brother. You waited each time by their bodies, but he never called, never even picked up the goddamn phone.

He promised resurrection to people who needed something to hang on to. Promises made to be broken. God was more comfortable than death. You repeated it over and over as a prayer to those who had lost someone. We all have. Your dads own voice booming through the quiet. Now, you are losing yourself.

But really, there was no more you, not really. Maybe the horse knew too, bucked you off, and laughed as you felt the thud of the ground under your shoulder blades, because suddenly there was no air left in the entire dwindling world. The snow that was kicked up into your face from the weight of your body wasn’t melting as it would have before. You were cold. There was no world. There was just endless pain before a bout of relief. Not even enough to fill your lungs in one breath in or out. Even the horse knew you were dead weight. Every animal fighting for its survival. That’s why you were shot, too.

You scared the Devil and he took it upon himself to punish you.

At least that’s what you convince yourself as you lay dying on the cold, unforgiving ground, the weight of your pain bore down on your frail body- words trying to come out in shallow gasps. He wasn’t coming.

“Please,” you begged.

You heard shuffling, and then a shadow covered the setting moon above you. The all-to-familiar sound of his boots gaining on your still body. You could still smell him, had been able to this entire time you had been on his horse, in his lap. You could feel the pressure of his fingers rapidly squeezing your cheeks, feeling for blood flow, then the burning of his fingers on your neck, looking for signs of life amidst the dark night. Finally, he was touching you again. Maybe now he would kill you, too. His final gift.

“Fuck,” he hissed. That muttered obscenity made you feel more alive. “Get the fuckin’ horse away from her Tommy.” You heard the reins of the animal you were sat upon being pulled, and the hooves cascading further into the night. He returned to you, the coolness of his rings stung against your face, the cool air keeping them cold despite the warmth of his body. The bullseye tattoo, the only indication of who was touching you besides his smell. You had seen it multiple times throughout the rising and falling of the sun. It had cupped your body against his. He holds your face, as he leans into you, bullseye sitting right beneath your chin.

Throw a dart and it would hit you right in the throat- where you wanted him. Where you wanted him to breathe life into you again.

“Please. Help me go home.” Home hasn’t existed in years. You’d been unconscious for days.

“Shhh. No point in talkin' baby. Hurts too much. We’re goin’ home.” You looked up at him and despite the hardness of his exterior, you saw the understanding in his eyes. Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared back into his skull.

Almost how a lighter ignites, flickers, warms, almost unbearable but not quite. The wind blows the fire to your fingers, stings, then disappears. As did his burning gaze. The feeling of putting out a cigarette as it shoves its last bit of self out into the world, smoke followed by nothing, simultaneously.

That was him, you would come to find out, as his silhouette and his own warmth flees from your touch. As the brown from his eyes turns to black as your own close. He sighs.

The snow crunches under his weight as he assesses how to pick you back up.

“And you ain’t goin’ anywhere but where I take you. Got it?” A half-attempted nod before a sigh of pain.

You didn’t know where you were going- why, you were still alive… or whatever this in-between was. All you know is that you prayed to the Devil. And he answered.

He was the only one who ever answered.

The return to Jackson was painful, the remnants of a long-ago shattered world marred the landscape. As they neared home, the journey became colder, perhaps another reason why it remained a well-hidden place- not many people made it there alive. Joel and Tommy, ever vigilant, guided the two horses with unwavering resolve, constantly scanning the horizon for any indications of danger. Meanwhile, they carried the injured girl, whose body was only partially present after being thrown from the horse three days ago, blankets thrown atop. It had been five days since she was shot. Since Joel shot her.

The way you looked up at him every once in a while was breathtaking- it was too much of a painful reminder that he’d lost (or will lose) everything he’s ever cared about. He could see it in your eyes, the confusion of who and where you were. Watching life move through someone's body and out of their eyes used to be a victorious occasion. It meant he succeeded, that he was still alive regardless of the mangled bodies he left behind. But this felt different to him. You were so godamn young and he plays the scream ripping through your throat over and over an- he swears he didn’t pull the trigger. Joel's gruff voice broke through the haze of silence that had fallen upon them days ago and never left. He broke through his own circling thoughts. As he spoke to Tommy a mixture of concern and guilt for your being broke through, he felt it in his throat, his chest. He didn't want to be responsible for this death, but he sure as hell didn’t want to know you either. Because knowing someone only meant more pain.

“We've been carryin’ her for days, Tommy. How much longer can she hold on like this? No point in bringin’ a dead girl home.”

Denial was a motherfucker, wasn’t it?

Joel knew of death- he didn’t believe in shit besides such. He used to be a God-fearing man but knew if he ever had the chance to stand in front of him he’d rip him in two and gnaw on the pieces of his holiness.

Tommy knew of death too, even before the outbreak, but the difference was that he also believed in life. He knew exactly why Joel had that scar, even though they’d never talked about it. It was a quiet understanding, one he never pushed or even poked and prodded.

Tommy's response was laced with a fear, for what Joel had done, but empathy for what he knows he sees every single time he looks down upon you. "We're almost there, Joel. She's tough, you know that. She should have died from that wound but she’s still breathin’, that counts f’something. We'll get her to Jackson, n’ she'll have a chance." He kept looking into his brother's eyes before pulling away and looking ahead into the blinding white. If he said what he really wanted, he wouldn’t stop. “You fuckin’ shot her but now you want to save her? Make up your fuckin’ mind.” The least he could do is help him save someone, even if it’s just for Joel’s sake, especially after he couldn't save Sarah. ‘Least he could do is keep his mouth shut.

Joel was the last person he had- the only person. Ellie didn’t even love him like she loved Joel. It’s always the broken, harsh ones that receive the most attention. People spend so much time trying to put broken people back together that they don’t realize the others are teetering with one foot over the edge.

They’d gone outside the walls because funny enough, they thought it would be more safe this time of year, the dead of winter. Ellie had begged for months for the boys to take her out with them and show her this and that. She was getting homesick for a place she never truly loved. She was tired of sitting still inside walls of safety when everyone she had ever loved was buried outside of them. Tess came along too, providing an extra line of safety, ‘just in case’.

Tommy remembers Joel whispering, “There's somethin’ coming.” More so someone, you. A moment later, a gunshot, a thudding body. Joel was normally calm on the trigger, rifle in hand, looking down the barrel of the gun, aimed at his prey. But Ellie was there, Tommy, and Tess. His people. There was no time to fuck around, so he didn’t. Tommy understood. But that didn’t make it right in his head. His brother was never patient in the moments that mattered the most.

One evening, about ten hours from wherever the fuck they were taking you, the sun began to set, setting ablaze a warm glow over the frozen landscape. You had been awake, more so than the past couple of days, looking up at the moving clouds in the sky, watching as his chest moved and released more air into the sky, breathing visible and dancing in the cold. The horse beneath you abruptly stopped and the two men descended their spots atop of them, stretching their legs and gaining more control of their tired bodies.

“You’re awake,” the younger one let out, moving his focus from the soft mumbles he was giving to the other man. “‘Bout time we clean your wound again, see how it’s doing.” You let out a faint, “mm” and attempted to sit up. “No. We’ll get ya off the horse. Be still,” the other said. The Devil grabbed the water and reached up to you, his fingers moved across your face as he gathered your wandering hair and moved it away from your lips. He turned the canister upwards, slowly, letting you drink from it. “Thank you,” you managed. It was the first time he heard your voice not mangled with absolute fear. He stared, eyes roaming the silence, looking ever-so surprised that you had said anything at all, and so clearly at that.

The angel moved closer and reached out his hand, thinking now was a good time to introduce himself to you. “Tommy, Miller. This is my brother, Joel.” he looked toward him. Joel forced an upside-down grin and nodded his head toward you. “You…” pointing towards the one called Joel, “you shot me.” Silence followed, it was heavy, thick. “I didn- Thought you were dangerous, came around that corner too fast.”

“I wasn’t even armed, I-“

“Don’t wanna talk bout’ it.” he huffed, almost angrily. You opened your mouth again, wanting to rattle off one of three hundred questions that you had, but he looked you over once more, and then turned around and walked off. Tommy, with gentle hands, tenderly lifted your body off of the saddle and carried you towards the fire Joel was nursing. The crackling of a campfire and the scent of cooked food filled the air as they set to work, tending to your wounds with diligence that spoke to Tommy's belief that you would be okay (You had to be. He couldn’t fail Joel again. Couldn’t watch as his face fell with the realization that you were completely dead).

His fingers were deft as he cleaned your wounds, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He saw the goosebumps rise, and felt them, as the fire lit your skin. You caught glimpses of concern in his eyes, a silent reassurance that he was determined to see you through this. Joel's presence was a constant anchor, as he spoke into the fire, keeping it lit. They laid out blankets, far too many for just two people to be carrying alone, and sat you atop and below them.

The rest of the night had been filled with your echoing screams, Joel’s palm across your mouth, “Stop screamin’ or someone is gonna find us.” Sure, stop screaming while dirty, whiskey-cleaned fingers are prodding at your open wound. Not even a sorry moved past his lips.

Joel laid down on one side of you, Tommy on the other. “M’ sorry,” he whispered towards you. They both smelled of sweat and whiskey. Their chests rolled and fell at different times, Joel murmuring in his sleep once he finally stopped looking around the parameter. You could tell they were brothers.

It was night when the three of you arrived ‘home’. You heard a young girl's voice above the gathering crowd.

“Joel!” She parted the gathering crowd as the patter of quickening footsteps approached. His head whipped quickly, finding her immediately.

“What the fuck?”

“Ellie,” he warned.

“You can’t fucking do that Joel, I thought you…We made it home three days ago. Tess dragged me by my hair but I-”

“Good,” he huffed back, “Where is she?” Ellie blustered but gave up arguing.

Multiple men gathered around and took the blankets off your body, the air hissing through your torn clothes. You whimpered as they moved your body off of Joel’s horse. He didn’t say anything to you, instead he turned and followed Ellie out of the crowd, carrying the reins with him.

You were carefully carried to a bigger two-story home on the outskirts of the city. As the night turned towards the morning sun, you found yourself gaining strength. The length of the night had been blurry, chattering voices and hands, everywhere. Needles, bliss, whispers. Stripping you from the blood-ridden clothes and water pouring over your lips. Fingers, hands touching you, always caught in a delicate dance between stoic tenderness and warmth

‘Gonna be jus’ fine, baby.” Tommy had assured you, multiple times.

Suddenly it had been a week. They took turns caring for you, someone sleeping in the same room as you at all times in case you needed something. Always talking about “patrol shifts” and how Tommy was expected to be a leader of some sort. You had overheard a lot of conversations booming through the thin walls of the house. One hurting more than the others.

“Shouldn’t have fuckin’ brought her here in the first place. You know the whole town is gossipin’ about it right now. The Miller brothers bringing in another mouth to feed.”

“Stop it. Sh’can hear you Joel. You know that’s not how anyone thinks of it. She could help this place. Give her a chance.”

“She’s been practically fuckin’ unconscious for a week now, Tommy. You think she’s just gonna get right up n’ run the town?”

“Why did you take her in if you don’t even want to be responsible for her survival?” Tommy threw back at him. He regretted saying it immediately, watching as it hit Joel in the face before he closed his eyes and looked away. Joel was more so there to watch you and make sure you didn’t bleed into his wooden floor, while Tommy tried to provide as much comfort as possible. After realizing that this was Joel’s home, it made sense in what little you knew about him. There were few things on the wall, but there were remnants of him everywhere.

Ellie would come home and sit with you, read to you and then tuck you in after Joel carried you up the stairs and into his bed. You missed Tommy’s gentleness when it wasn’t there, but you missed the warmth from Joel's body, his lap, when he wasn’t there. His breathing, his nervous habit of cracking his fingers. Even though you could tell that every nerve ending in his body wanted you anywhere else but wherever he was- there was still a silent curiosity.

About a week and a half after your arrival, someone knocked on the front door of the tattered house and Joel called for Tommy up the stairs. He walked down them quickly, walking out of the front door with Joel.

He returned a few minutes later, looking at you sitting in the seat you hadn’t left in since you’d been there. He gave you a look, slowly looking towards the ground as he spoke up so you could hear him. “Gotta go for a couple of days. Heard there’s a group who probably followed us close to here, saw their smoke, gonna take care of them before they can make it any further.” You hadn’t spoken much, if at all, the past couple of days. You didn’t think you would make it this far, and now you were sitting with two strangers and a teenager in their house, rotting away. They had poked and prodded, trying to get any information out of you that they could, but you didn’t give in.

You stared out the window and answered meekly whenever spoken to, if at all. You should be ecstatic at the thought of finally being housed somewhere ‘safe’, somewhere with electricity and running water. Somewhere where they gathered the children and let them watch movies in the mess hall (all information coming from Tommy, telling you stories as he changed your bandages)- but you weren’t. You felt like you were still teetering on the edge of death. You felt like a burden to Joel.

You didn’t answer Tommy, just nodded. He packed up a few things and promised to ‘be back in no time, then maybe you can tell me your name.’ And then he was gone out of the termite-ridden front door.

You had fallen asleep, and awoken to Joel in another room somewhere, those same goddamn boots thudding against the creaking wooden floors. His presence was constant, every once in a while getting up from a creaking chair to come look at you. You slept, mostly. Ate the dinner he got from the dining hall. Your rage had returned. But baring your teeth in anger took energy you didn’t have.

Joel couldn’t look at you without feeling like he was looking straight through the blood and guts of you(r)(side). Tommy wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone about it before he left. How pretty you were, how there ‘weren’t many pretty faces left n’ you’re tryin’ to kill one?’ He watched as Tommy cooked you with his stare, warming his next meal only to put on his best-dressed suit and bail on the date before he could even pick up the tab. He was glad he was gone for a while, letting him forget about the fact that he had put the bullet in you. He loved his brother, but he knew his games. He knew his inability to stay.

Joel had nursed you back to… alive. At least. He hadn’t really thought about what that entailed after you were stable. He was surprised you were still breathing. He didn’t think about the feeding, changing, and bathing of you. Of hands touching flesh and natural bodily reactions to such.

You could tell he was the older brother. He held the normal stereotypes, sternly telling you what to do. The older one was always more serious, and stoic. The younger, who probably got away with more, but was the loneliest from eyes diverting. But his big brother was always there, begrudgingly present. And he was in this instance too.

Tommy had washed you multiple times before he left, but never your hair or the rest of you. He was more concerned that your stitches didn’t get infected.

Joel probably thought giving you a rag bath was wasting water, but did it anyway, probably tired of your stench in his bed. It’s cold until he heats the towel after noticing you shiver. “Let me draw you an actual bath. Think you can take one now.” He was softer at that moment, more gently with the way he wiped the towel across your chest. Those moments happened least expectedly. But when they did happen, it hurt even deeper. You felt something for him. And that just wouldn’t do. Rather it be lust, loneliness, or your raging fucking daddy issues.

Tommy likes the water cold, and Joel likes it burning to the skin. Of course, he does. He is all or nothing. Hot or cold. Soft or hard. He’s solitude but brings the same warmth of a front door opening to a sea of snow, chimney warm, lights warmer, hot chocolate, and bourbon- he is. In any other world but this one, he would probably be a good man; one to settle down with. One to hold you against himself, despite of raging night.

The smell of you hung heavy in the steam-filled bathroom, when he finally convinced you that you needed a bath. Iron. Blood. Something sweet that made him ache as he peeled your clothes from your weak body. Tommy returned an hour or so earlier, saying whoever had followed them had taken another way around. “It’s weird Joel,” he said. You stopped listening. Your side was screaming in pain, it had been, every move you made required your arms or legs.

“Can’t do it Joel.”

“Need to, baby. Lemme give you something to help. Don’t tell Tommy.” He whispered sternly.

Baby.

You swallowed the white circular pill and winced as it sourly disintegrated down your throat.

He was gentle in removing his own clothes from your back. Or maybe it was the drugs. They had already seen every inch of you whether you liked it or not, so the feeling in the pit of your stomach as you were being stripped by his strong hands felt out of place… it felt blissful, almost good.

Ten minutes of Joel trying to hold your body up and wash you simultaneously had him grunting in anger. “God damnit Tommy get in here. I can’t hold her up and wash her at the same time.” You winced as he raised his voice, almost breaking you from a blissful trance. And then you closed your eyes and let go.

“Fuck Joel I just washed these jea-“ his voice coming from down the hallway. “What the fuck did you give her?” He was angry.

“She’s in pain, Tommy. Take off the fucking jeans then, I don’t care, get some towels and then get in here.” Joel growled.

So he does. He unbelts his leather-backed metal belt and it hits the floor in the same instance, cling. He doesn’t mention the pills again.

Joel wanted to reach down to your chest as you lay against him and rub his thumb along your hardening nipples, feel how hard they get under his touch, so quickly. Simultaneously so soft and giving. Feel the bumps around the nubs grow, the inevitable goosebumps rising under the hair on your arms, legs, core. He traced a few freckles on your chest, tearing his hand away when he realized what he was doing, taking in a deep breath. He was thankful you probably weren’t aware of his incredibly hard length beneath you. As it grew harder it moved up closer to his belly button, your body pulling his boxers down lower, exposing his head to the bath water. “Fuck me,” he let out painfully as the warmth from your lower half pressed against his cock.

He would get down on his knees and pray to your altar. He would bless it first, kiss it clean, before he would send two fingers to spread open your love.

Tommy entered the room again, dropping whatever clean towels he could find to the side of the tub. And he saw you there, naked, dirty body pressed against Joel’s. Your nipples had hardened, unconsciously reacting to his brother's body. He wondered if it was because it was Joel or because someone was touching you. He imagined he would sing to you at night when he was gone, just like he did for Ellie when they first found her. Strum his guitar for your shallow breaths- his presence was constant in your survival. Tommy wanted to be the one you relied upon.

You were so goddamn dirty, but you needed support, especially where the stitches were on the side of your soft stomach. It was something Joel hasn’t felt in a while, a woman’s body against his own. Nude, at that. Breasts full and heavy, fat and soft skin following movement. He wanted to trace the lines in your stretched skin. Pulling upon your chest, he lays you further back into his lap. You were so warm, fever induced and still in another world from the pain pills- a safe one where your body took your mind… at least he hoped it was safe. He hoped that you weren’t aware of his want for you.

You lay your face on his chest. He’s burning up, he’s talking and his voice vibrates through his chest and into your ear. It echos through you, the vibration of his depth. He held you upright as Tommy sat at the edge of the bath, washing away the dirt, baptizing you from your sins. He lifted you away from Joel and out of the water after a while, you felt like you were floating. You laughed a little, tickled as they dressed you again. This time in clothes that smelled different, ones that smelt like Tommy. He carried you to the guest room and laid you upon his unmade bed, before leaning down and kissing you goodnight on your forehead. “Sleep well, Angel.” Angel… you were anything but. You laughed, only partially as he got himself ready for bed.

They had found a small bag of things you had lost grasp on whenever you fell (were shot). It looked like time-worn items that meant something, from before the world was this way. One being an old driver's license- your smile, happy, content, young. Your name, now repeating in Joel’s head over and over, coating every inch. 9 years ago, now in your mid 20’s. How long had you been all alone? No one had come running to your corpse.

They had come to the conclusion that you were doing well on your own. You weren’t skin and bones like most of them who are lucky enough to survive and find their way to Jackson. You were thick, heavy in the most beautiful way. Heavy meant healthy, able to hunt, useful. It meant maybe being able to carry children. It meant handfuls of skin and whispered praises. It meant more to wash, to take in and try not to touch. It was too much for both of them. The only difference is that Joel knew he was a weak man. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if he kept feeling this way.

An hour or so had passed and Tommy was laying in bed next to you, reading something. Joel turned the corner and leaned up against the doorframe.

“Tommy.” there was tar in his throat, dripping down the back of his tongue and settling in his chest. He was a million pounds and his legs could no longer bare the weight of her. Of you.

He looked into you, bounced off the sides of your mind and then straight into the bed you were lying upon, sleeping so peacefully next to his brother. Tommy sees the pain in Joel's eyes, hung lower in embarrassment.

He did this to you. He took a life from someone who had the rest of this fucked up world ahead of her. And it was a slow and painful death, too. You were someone’s daughter. It’s fucked up how the world works like that, huh? It wasn’t enough losing his own daughter- he had to kill someone else’s too. Does your dad, husband, mother, feel you slipping from the world? Do they hear hushed whispers in the night of your name leaving somethings tongue?

Joel stopped believing in God a long time ago. He was slipping from his grip, facing the fall, and Sarah’s last moments solidified his feet on the ground. Almost under. Still surprised it’s not under.

“I’ll take her, Joel. In the mornin we’ll pack up some things and go back to my house.” He said softly, nodding and looking down at the ground in an unspoken, “I know.”

It's Tommy who steps forward, taking charge and offering to care for you. He can sense his brother’s connection to you, why he wants to save you so badly. So much so that he can’t. He doesn’t trust himself for what will happen if someone else dies under his watch, because of him. Someone innocent. “I know she’s sleepin’ but can we have a moment?” Joel asks.

Tommy doesn’t question him, he marks his page, sets down his book and carries his body from the bed to the hallway. Joel waited a moment and assured that you were tucked in well, warm from the bath. He sighed, one of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was stern in the way that held back his tears. “You have to believe me,” he whispered your name, the first time it left his tongue and he wanted to say it over and over again. “I’m sorry.” He caressed your face, watching as your body reacted to his touch, stirring, before the bed creaked with the weight of his body leaving, and then he was gone. You had heard everything, felt him leaving. The room felt entirely too empty.

The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.”

Tommy entered the room again and sunk under the covers. He moved his body closer to you and you decided to bask in it, instead.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

a/n: Phew do I have plans for these three…

taglist: @worhols @sarap-77 @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @basicoccult @hellfyreroz @northernbluess-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @bambydxll @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @med494 @k-ra @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @megangovier20 @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrotonin @bluetattoos @sscorpiiio

342 notes · View notes

ultrabrokengirlposts · 2 years ago

Text

Wait

NSFW Jake Lockley x f!reader

Summary:

You just couldn't wait for Jake to come home, and now you face the consequences.

Contents/Warnings: Top!Jake, Toys (vibrator), Voyeurism, Masturbation, Cock Warming, Overstimulation, Implied Aftercare, Established Relationship, My rusty writing deserves a warning I apologize in advance, also its my first time writing smut

You sigh and lean back on the couch in frustration. You look back at your phone to reread the text again.

"Be home soon amor, wait for me ;)" sent just over an hour ago.

You know he gets busy, and you don't blame him at all, but after reading suggestive texts from him all day you were starting to get impatient. How long was he going to be?

At this point you have already taken a shower, changed into his favorite lacy underwear hidden by a silky robe, dimmed the lights, and lit one of your favorite scented candles. Now you were just waiting, rereading his text for the millionth time.

"wait for me" you want to be waiting to greet him, too see his eyes look you over like a starved man being offered a feast, but you aren't sure how much longer you'll have to wait for. Depending on how busy he is, you could be waiting as short as 5 minutes or as long as another hour.

You get up from the couch and walk into the bedroom and over to the nightstand on your side of the bed. You open the bottom drawer and stare at the small silicone vibrator that greeted you. Honestly, you haven't needed to use it in years for....obvious reasons, but you kept it charged for a rainy day. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right? You could be quick and still be there to greet him.

You grab the vibrator from the drawer, placing it on the bed. You lay down, opening the robe you were wearing before opening your legs and sliding your hand down the lacy underwear. You were still a little wet with arousal, but not as much after waiting for Jake for so long. You gently feel between the folds of your pussy, teasing your clit as you build yourself back up, getting more and more wet. You insert one of your fingers while rubbing your clit with your thumb, humming at the sensations. Your hand isn't enough, the pleasure was building but the fingers just aren't Jake's. You quickly pull your hand away to grab the vibrator, wetting it with your juices before bringing it down to your pussy.

You don't turn it on initially, rubbing it up and down your cunt to tease yourself. You then hold the toy over your clit and press the on button. The sudden sensations making you tense up and gasp. Your eyes flutter shut and you think of Jake and what he could have had planned if he didn't make you wait so late. You moan grinding your hips slightly into the toy, letting it tease your hole before bringing it back up to your clit. You can feel the tension building in all of your muscles as you whimper, your hand not daring to move the toy away and stop the pleasure building in you. You could feel your orgasm building, moaning and whimpering as you chase for it.

"Well, someone just couldn't wait"

The voice felt like a splash of cold water, your legs instinctively closing as you look up to see Jake in the doorway of the bedroom. The only sound left in the room was the buzzing of the vibrator that had yet to be turned off. Your face grows red, turning off the vibrator as Jake eyes the lacy underwear hiding his full view of what you were doing only moments ago.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you tried to speak. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"No, by all means keep going. You seem to be handling yourself just fine." You hesitate, unmoving as he walks closer to the bed. "Keep. Going." he emphasizes, his eyes never leaving you.

You carefully relax back onto the bed, opening your legs again. Jake then reaches forward, grabbing the waistband of the lacy underwear and pulling them down and off of you, tossing them aside before continuing to watch you. You slowly start rubbing the vibrator along your cunt again before turning it back on, a whimper making it's way out of your mouth. Jake's eyes never leave you as he begins untying his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, pulling them off his shoulders. His face is unreadable, but the bulge in his pants and his breathing picking up told you everything you need to know as you relax fully.

"I want to see you cum on that piece of fucking plastic since you seem to like it so much" his words sent shivers through you, no doubt goosebumps visibly forming on your body but you don't care enough to check. Pleasure raked through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your muscles tensing up again, the familiar feeling of your orgasm building back up in your stomach. Your free hand reaches for Jake, but he stays standing just far away enough to stay out of your reach as he undoes the buckle on his belt and undoes his pants. He pulls them down together and kicks them away as he continues to watch you.

Your orgasm unexpectedly floods your senses. Your back arching slightly off the bed with a moan, your toes curling, your free hand that was reaching for him now slamming down on the bed to grab at the sheets.

"Bien, that's it" Jake softly praises.

Your moans turn into whimpers and you come down from your high. You quickly turn off the toy and move it away as the sensations become too much and your breathing begins to steady.

"So you do know how to listen after all" Jake says, a smirk forming on his lips as he finally crawls onto the bed towards you. Your hands immediately meet his skin, running up his arms and onto his shoulders and chest as he reaches you with a desperate and heated kiss. One of your hands moves to rub his cock over the fabric of his boxers, making him groan into your lips before pulling away.

"Already desperate for my cock? I thought the toy was enough, no?" he says with a chuckle when he hears you whine in frustration. He quickly pulls down his boxers, freeing his fully hardened cock.

He doesn't waste any time as he lines himself up with your pussy, both of you moaning as he slowly thrusts into you. He's careful, and watches you to make sure your comfortable and adjusted. You nod and that's all the confirmation he needs as he slowly moves out of you and pushing back in, a groan escaping his throat. He slowly builds up a steady pace, thrusting hard into you when he pauses, his cock settled deep in you. He thinks for a moment before a smirk forms on his face again, quickly searching the bed. He finally finds the vibrator within the pile of sheets. Turning it on and pressing it to your clit making you moan and whimper from all the sensations. Jake then leans forward, lips coming close to your ear.

"I'm going to show you how easy it is to wait, I'm not going to move until you cum on my cock from this thing" we whispers, holding the vibrator down on your clit to emphasize his point.

"Jake please-" you start to grind your hips into him, trying to get some sort of movement. One hand holds your hips down while the other keeps the vibrator firmly pressed to your clit. You can tell Jake can feel some of the vibrations too as his softly grunts at the feeling.

"I'm not going to fucking move until you cum on this cock" he says, remaining completely still and buried in your wet cunt. "You're gonna see how good it feels when you learn how to wait"

The vibrations mixed with the feeling of being absolutely full were heavenly. Jake kept you from moving your hips into him as pleasure consumed you. Jake hummed and groaned at the feeling of your cunt fluttering and pulsing around him mixed with the vibrations. You were so sensitive it didn't take long for him to feel you getting close again. You moaned as you got closer and closer to your high.

"Please, please Jake, please-" you begged. You don't even know what you're pleading for anymore but it didn't matter as your second orgasm flooded over you, making your pussy tighten around Jake's cock.

Right in that moment Jake started moving, pounding into you. The sounds of the toy mixed with skin slapping together filled the room, dragging the orgasm out as long as it would go. The vibrator was starting to get to Jake too so it doesn't take long for his body to tense up as he cums into you with a moan.

You both slowly come down from your highs, Jake turning off the vibrator and tossing it onto the bed. Both of you pause to catch your breath before Jake moves off of you, watching his cum fall from your pussy. He then walks over to the bathroom to grab a towel, wetting it with warm water.

"We should use that piece of plastic more often" Jake says with a chuckle

~~~

Thanks again to @melodygatesauthor for unlocking my inner slut and inspiring me enough to actually get around to writing this!

#i am so down bad for this man #jake lockley #jake lockely smut #moon knight #moon knight smut #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #phew 😮‍💨

316 notes · View notes