~ as leon kennedy’s personal assistant, you had 24/7 access to his office for filing, reports and often just to bring him coffee at odd hours. working late one night you swing by his office to drop off some files left over from the previous mission, only to find your boss in a slightly precarious position
rating ~ mature (did i crawl out the depths of my own ass to write filth about leon kennedy? yes absolutely of course)
re9 leon kennedy x f reader
warnings ~ so much smut, boss/assistant dynamic, oral (f and m receiving) dirty talk, fingering, bondage (sorta? kinda tame though), doggy style, penetration, creampie, fluff, no plot ngl i don’t have the brain capacity for that shit rn just enjoy the smut pls xoxo
It was late, too late to even be working. You peered outside, no cars, no civilians, nothing. Not surprising, it was closer to sunrise than midnight, nobody should be awake at this time.
The dim lamplight coming from your desk became your only source of vision, having turned the harsh spotlights off hours ago. You’d been answering calls from international offices, notifying about the Raccoon City incident since the bombing. It was exhausting, granted not as exhausting as your boss being the one who was actually in the shit and fighting for his life, but goddamn your limit as a PA was wearing thin.
Leon’s office was in clear sight from your desk, his office door directly in front of you, you could often see him sat as his computer if you peered at him above your own.
Four years you’d been his assistant, and it only took about 3 months for him to say he hated being called Mr Kennedy, so since then you’d called him Leon, it felt so natural to you now.
Swirling your finger softly over the rim of your coffee cup you saw the dark brown liquid settled undisturbed inside. You brought the cup to your lips and took a sip as you flipped the page of your reports strewn across your desk. Cold. Very cold. Very disgusting. You spat the coffee back into the cup in disgust. There was nothing worse than cold coffee.
Making your way to the office kitchen you fixed yourself a fresh cup, pouring one for Leon as well since you knew full well he hadn’t left his office in hours. Holding both cups in one hand, the handles clanking together as you balanced them perfectly in your fingers, you grabbed the documents you needed Leon to sign and made your way to his office door.
You heard grunting, a muffled voice through the door caught your attention. There was a chance he was on the phone, so you knocked quietly and peeked your head in to see if you could get his attention.
The chair was swivelled to the side wall, his left profile on show, head fallen back against the chair as his eyes rested closed. Your eyes squinted, confused as they drifted down towards the desk hiding the lower half of his body. Then you spotted his hand, rising up and down between his legs, you heard the skin on skin contact, your eyes widening as you realised exactly what he was doing to himself. But you couldn’t look away immediately, your eyes fixated on him, the way his mouth fell open as his hand sped up, the way his hips bucked slightly into the air, how his free hand gripped the arm rest of his chair, veins pushing against the skin of his forearm. It was only his voice that snapped you out of your trance.
“You gonna stand there watching, or you coming in?” he huffed through a smirk, eyes still closed. How the fuck did he know you were there. Panicking that you’d been caught, you closed the door, but didn’t move away from it. Placing the coffee cups beside you on the table, your mind began to race.
Over the years there had been tension, sure. Working late nights with the guy had brought you two closer. Staff dinners and friendly drinks had brought you two very close, but not close enough that you’d acted on the instinct of wanting to drag him into your car and ride him in the backseat, even though it was on your mind constantly. A few touches here and there, his lips a little too close to yours when he leaned in to say something in a bustling bar late at night. A hand on your waist as he walked you back to your car after a long night at the office. Tension definitely grew for you two over the years, and you’d both imagined what it’d be like to get the other into bed, but he was your boss, and you were his assistant.
Fuck it.
You opened the door and he was there. Pants promptly back around his waist, his hair slightly slick with sweat, tousled on his forehead. You stared up at him, not expecting him to be so close. He just smirked, staring at you in the doorway, a look in your eye but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
“You coming in then, darlin’?”
“Why? You think I’m interested?” You tried to make out like this was exactly what you wanted.
“Why’d you open the door again, then?”
Shit.
Words wouldn’t formulate in your mouth when you parted your lips to speak, so Leon took the opportunity to stop you speaking altogether. His hand reached up, his fingers grabbing under your chin as he pulled your face to his, lips crashing onto yours with want.
Your hands drifted up his shirt, feeling the muscle that tightly clawed at the fabric of his clothes underneath until they reached his neck, wrapping your arms around it, pulling him flush against your body.
God, he’d dreamt about this. Not necessarily in his offie, he’d imagined it in other, more private locations. Driving you home and pulling you into his lap when he pulled up to your house, hands in your pants as you worked on unbuttoning his jeans. Or whenever you were at his place for work, scrapping all the reports on the kitchen counter and bending you over it, pounding into you until all you could scream was his name as you clawed at the wood countertop, his hips flush with your ass as he spilled inside you, filling you up with his cum. But the office was good enough this time.
He pulled you in, slamming the door behind you and pushing you against it, trapping your body against his as his hands roamed over your waist, your hips, until they found their way around the curve of your ass. “Fuck, you know how long i’ve wanted to do this to you, hmm?” Leon whispered as his lips moved to your neck, licking a stripe up to your ear. “Been dreaming about this for months.”
He was a man of mystery, Leon Kennedy. Hard to read. But now all he could do was tell you exactly what was on his mind.
Your fingers made quick work of his buttoned pants, undoing it with ease, sliding the zipper down slowly. You could feel a wetness in your jeans already, fuck this wasn’t taking too long for him to undo you.
“You jumping straight into it, huh? Skipping the fun altogether, what’s the point in that?” His tone almost made it sound like he didn’t want it over with that quick. But that wasn’t what you were doing, you had other ideas.
“Who said anything about skipping the fun parts?” You brought his lips back to yours for one more messy kiss, tongues melding together in a dance, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he saw you gradually sink to your knees, fingers prying his jeans down his thighs. You looked up at him through hooded lids and god, he thought that was the best sight he ever laid eyes on.
Your hand toyed with him through his boxers, musing playfully at the straining cock beneath the fabric, desperate to be released. Placing a kiss to the bulging fabric, you felt a twitch, making him sigh above you. Still pinned against the door, your back pressed firmly against it, he knew that’s exactly where you wanted to be.
Pulling his boxers down, you freed his cock from its confines and widened your eyes at the sight. Leon’s forearm came to rest on the door for support while the other drifted to your hair, entwining his fingers in your soft locks.
Wasting no time, your tongue licked up the length, tickling over the tip where precum had started to leak from when he was pleasuring himself in his chair. Your lips wrapped around his cock, your throat relaxing as you took him in to the hilt, breathing softly through your nose.
Leon looked down at you, his hand gripping your hair tighter, slowly rocking his hips against you, not too much to force a gag from your throat, but just enough to draw him closer to an orgasm. He refused internally to cum before you did, but fuck, seeing you like this as he towered above you made him want to spill straight down your throat and watch you swallow every last drop.
“Fuck that’s so fucking good, baby. You’re doing so good, looking so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he mewled as his forehead pressed against the door just below where his arm rested. He set the pace for you, your head bobbing rhythmically as his hand and hips guided, his eyes drifting past your chin to watch your hands reach down your own newly unbuttoned pants to touch yourself.
Fuck, you were getting off on this. Off on the fact that your mouth was full of his cock, your fingers playing with his balls, massaging them gently as you rubbed your own clit out of sheer desperation.
The thought of that made his hips buck faster against you, your head fully resting against the door as your throat fell lax, your jaw slack as you took him in fully with every thrust, your tongue dancing along the underside of his cock.
Shit he was going to cum. He gripped your head in place, slowing pulling himself out of the warm wetness of your mouth, his dick slapping against his stomach as he did.
“What’s wrong?” you whispered up to him as he helped you to your feet.
“Nothing, baby. Just don’t want to be finished with you so soon, do I? Wanna take my time with you”, he smirked hands falling to your ass, lifting you in his arms as he walked you towards his desk, lips firmly against yours, tongue exploring your mouth.
One hand holding you up, the other swiping everything from his desk onto the floor, he laid you on the desk, his lips never leaving your body as they trailed down to the swell of your breasts.
“Um excuse me, I worked hard on those reports I gave you”, you rolled your eyes, looking at the strewn papers discarded to the floor.
He looked up at you from a kneeled position, his hands making quick work of removing your shoes followed by your pants, leaving you almost naked before him.
“Oh I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Should I take the precious time to clean that up, or would you rather I eat you out? Hmm?”
He was smirking. You could hear it in his tone without even looking. You didn’t even give a response, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.
“I’ll take your silence as the latter, then.”
You didn’t even open your mouth to form a quick witted remark before he’d already pulled your panties aside, tongue flicking against your clit deliciously. Your thighs caged his head, trapping him between your legs as he ate your pussy like a man starved. His tongue dipped into your wet hole, his lips wrapping around your clit. And to top it off, his fingers teased you so gently, running through your folds until you whined at him, begging him to use them.
“What do you want, baby? Tell me? You want me to use my fingers inside you? Shove them inside your desperate little pussy and finger you until you cum? That what you want?”
You nodded eagerly, head pushed back against the desk, your hands gripping his hair like a vice, keeping his mouth occupied on your sensitive nerves. “Fuck, please Leon. Please.”
Please was all it took.
Two fingers sunk deep inside you, curling as far as they could to hit a spot that sent your eyes rolling, and after that his pace never faltered. He kept the same rhythm, anything to hear those pretty little moans escape you. Licking through your folds, sucking on your clit harshly, fingers buried deep inside you, it was almost too much. Your hips rose off the desk, using his shoulders as leverage to grind your pussy against his face. You were close, way too fucking close to an orgasm, and he could feel it, basically sense it through your body language.
You felt his movements stop, his fingers retreating as well as his tongue. You whined as his bod left yours, watching as he rose to stand, grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards the edge of the desk with such ease.
Lining himself up, Leon’s eyes practically fell into the back of his head as he pushed his cock into you with care. Watching the way you clenched around him, basically sucking him deeper into your pussy, he could have cum right there and then.
“You’re doing so fucking good, taking my cock so well. God, feels so good inside you, wish I could stay here all fucking night”.
He couldn’t stop himself, he had barely pushed full to the hilt before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back into you with force. Setting the pace, Leon’s brutal thrusts almost sent you off the desk, his arms wrapped around your elevated thighs being the only thing keeping you close.
You could barely form a sentence, your eyes back into your head as your hands grabbed at whatever part of him you could to ground yourself, his wrists being the closest thing. “Please, please, fuck Leon,” you whimpered as he pulled your legs up to his shoulders, your ankles dangling beside his head.
“That feel good, huh? Taking my cock like a good girl, god I can feel how fucking wet you are. That all for me, hm? You getting wet over your boss fucking you on his own desk?”
Fuck. Yes. The idea of someone hearing or catching you in her only spurred you on further.
“Please don’t stop, Leon. Fuck. I’m so close.”
“Oh baby, you don’t get to make the rules here. You’re in my office.”
He pulled out so swiftly the feeling of emptiness hit you like a truck. About to protest, he didn’t give you a second to speak before he’d pulled your body off the desk completely and spun you round to face away from him, the fronts of your thighs hitting the desk harshly.
“Give me your hands, darlin’. Don’t want your pretty fingers scratching into my desk now, do I?”
You obliged, feeling the palm of his hand pushing your lower back to bend you over the desk. Leon grabbed his tie from the chair in front of you, the heat of his chest seeping into your back, his musky smell filling your nostrils.
Tying the tie around your wrists into a perfect knot, leaving a tail on the end long enough for him to wrap his hand around to manoeuvre you as he pleased, he pushed his cock back into you, all the way until you felt him in your stomach.
Forceful thrusts that shook the desk, you felt every inch, every vein, every goddamn part of his cock filling your walls. One hand wrapped around the tie for leverage, the other burning fingerprints into your hip as he forced you back onto his cock, meeting you in the middle.
Fuck if anyone could hear you right now, your moans and screams were like candy to him, filling the room with your noise only brought him closer to completion. You were so close, almost fucking there as the tip of his cock buried deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.
“Shit shit Leon i’m gonna cum! Fuck please don’t stop, please. Let me cum on your cock.” Your pleads set something off inside him, his thrusts growing erratic, a quickened drawing you both closer to a high. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the smell of salt in the air from the sweat falling from both of your bodies. How the fuck was it so hot in this room?
“Come on baby, let it go. Cum on my cock baby, i’m so fucking close. Where do you want it, hm? Your pretty face? Your tits? Tell me what you want.” He didn’t want to state the obvious choice he wanted, even though he wanted it so fucking badly, but he didn’t have to. You said it for him.
“Inside me. Please,” you managed to whimper breathlessly as your felt your orgasm on the verge of tipping over. “Cum inside my pussy, please Leon, I want you to fill me up.” Your words became incoherent after that, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm hit you, drowning his cock in your juices, leaking out of you as he watched it drip off his cock to the floor.
He wasn’t far behind, ramming into you with such vicious speed, his balls slapping against your ass as he came inside your sweet pussy, filling you completely with his own seed. His hips slowed to a stop, still buried inside you as his forehead fell gently to the center of your shoulder blades, his hands stroking over your hips and waist gently. The both of you sucked air back into your lungs, breathing heavily as he pulled out of you slowly. A quiet moan escaped your lips as he pushed the escaping cum back into your pussy with his fingers, making sure not to waste a single bit.
You turned around, leaning against the desk and looking up at him. He leaned down to kiss you gently, reaching behind you to untie the bindings and release your wrists.
“You okay?” he asked, a note of concern in his tone at your flustered cheeks and wet eyes. His fingers caressed your cheek, drifting to your chin to tilt your head to meet his eye line.
You nodded, smiling up at him sweetly. Fuck, he loved that smile. He saw it everyday and he still loved it. “I’m good. Really fucking good actually,” you laughed, watching him return the same smile.
It took a minute to find every item of clothing you’d both thrown across the room carelessly, but eventually you managed to put yourselves back together, but you could still feel his cum inside you, seeping to your underwear, but you couldn’t care less.
“What were you actually coming in here for the first time?” he asked over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He looked over to see you eyes widen slightly.
“Shit the coffee!” your mind drifted to the coffee cups laid abandoned on the table outside the office, freezing cold most likely after its abandonment. “I was bringing you coffee to help you finish your reports,” you giggled, the cups long forgotten.
“Sweet gesture,” he mused, walking forward and kissing the side of your head, “but I enjoyed this a lot more than any coffee you could have given me.”
“I bet you did,” you replied, smirking, poking your finger playfully into his chest. “Shit, the sun’s coming up soon, we should probably get going. You could just make out a pinky orange glow beyond his window past the tall buildings blocking the view of the mountains.
Walking out to the parking lot, you breathed in the fresh air, letting it fill your lungs completely, clearing your head.
“Where you going?” You heard behind you, turning to see Leon opening the passenger side to his car, cocking his head to the side.
“This great place I like to call my home. Where my bed is. And my shower. And my fridge where I keep my food.”
“Get in the car, baby,” he rolled his eyes, gesturing to the empty seat with a wave of his hand. “Got all those things at my place, what more could you need?”
You walked towards him, eyes rolling once more. “Ever heard of this thing called sleep, Leon? It’s something I might need since I have to be back here in like, four hours.”
“Darlin, I’m your boss. Which is convenient because I’ve decided you need to take a day to work from home. Which conveniently so do I. So get in the car, because I never said I was finished with you just yet.”
Getting in that car turned into the best decision you’d made in a long time, Leon made sure of that.
outline: a playful snowball fight turns into something more heated when you're convinced you beat him
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fluff, din is so cute here, blowjobs, dirty talk, flirting
requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3
masterlist
II
It had been weeks since the three of you were able to get a day to yourself. With travelling, Din hunting quarries, collecting pucks from Karga, there wasn’t much room in between to relax at all. You found yourself on quite an unpretentious planet, snowy by nature, but gorgeous all the same.
The bounty had been quite easy to catch, as soon as the three of you walked into the cantina and spotted him hiding out in the corner, he didn’t really put up a fight. Sure, he tried to bargain for his freedom as they all did, but he shut up pretty quickly when Din revealed his hip blaster. Caught and frozen on your first day, both you and Din decided it wouldn’t do anyone any harm if you took an extra day on this planet, just to have a little time to yourselves.
You walked back to the Crest after exploring the market in the centre of the village, picking up some supplies and fuel while you were there. The trees were blanketed in a thick layer of white, dusty snow. Snowflakes flitted through the breeze, decorating your clothes and hair in their unique, individual patterning. The sky was a hazy shade of blue with white cloud stripes coursing through it. The ground, littered in a thick layer of snow, crunched beneath your boots. It was a sound that was so unfamiliar to you, yet so addictive at the same time. You stepped through the deepest snow piles in your path, listening to the satisfying crunches and creaks that filled your ears. You couldn’t see it but Din was smiling at you as he watched you enjoy the simplicities of the planet and what it had to offer.
You reluctantly put the kid on the floor after he insisted that he wanted to walk in the snow. He’d been begging to be put down for about ten minutes. His ‘insisting’ mainly comprised of prying your fingers in the wrong direction until you eventually freed him.
“Look, little man. It’s really cold on the floor. You sure you want to walk?”
His bright, pleading eyes gazed into yours. He was desperate to touch the fluffy snow. And, honestly? You couldn’t blame him.
“Alright, fine. But if you get a cold, it’s not my fault. You brought this upon yourself.”
You hear what you thought was a modulated chuckle behind you. Turning slightly, you see Din shaking his head slightly, still protected by his helmet. But you knew he was laughing. You could tell by the way his shoulders shook slightly.
“What?” you questioned curiously, a smile playing at your lips as you unwrapped the child from your scarf where you’d been keeping him warm.
“You know that if he gets a cold, we’re going to be up all night with him, right?”
You huff a chuckle, shaking your head and placing the child gently on the path, and walking beside him. “No. You're going to be up all night with him. I, however, will be in a deep sleep. Too deep of a sleep to be able to help you out.”
“Oh really?” Din countered, cocking an eyebrow and smirking beneath the beskar.
“Yep,” you said, giving him a flashy smile before turning back to trudge through the snow, only to find the child walking over the snow-cleared path, ear-deep in the crystalline mini-mountains. “Oh shit. What are you doing, you little womp rat? You’re supposed to stay on the path.” The child giggled, sniffling and rubbing his nose with his little three-fingered hand. “Okay kiddo, let’s get you home and put you to bed where it’s nice and cozy. Hmm? How’s that sound?"
The walk back to the Crest was executed in comfortable silence. The only sounds that could be heard were the quiet clanging of Din’s armour as he plodded next to you, and the strange screeches and chirps of the local birds hiding in the trees above and flying overhead. Eventually, you made it back to the clearing where the Crest had landed. Din offered to take the child from you and put him in his cot. You gladly handed him over. You loved the kid, you really did, but he was getting heavy.
You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet interaction between Din and the child, the way Din whispered cute sentiments to the child as the little womp rat held Din’s finger in his hand, holding onto it as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. It was so adorable to watch the Mandalorian carry the child in his arms like a baby as he walked up the now open ramp of the Crest, placing him gently in the cot, closing the door to keep the cold air out.
You walked around the clearing, scooping up some snow off the ground as you step through the undisturbed powder, leaving footprints in your wake. After about ten minutes, Din’s footsteps could be heard on the steel ramp. He seated himself at the bottom of the ramp, his boots planted firmly in the crisp, white ground. Looking over, you noticed he’d removed his helmet. Dark brown curls pointed in every direction due to what you liked to call his "helmet hair”. His cheeks and nose were rosy red, not being used to the cold after so long under the thick beskar armour.
“What are you up to, cyar'ika?” His modulated voice was like music to your ears, the words dripping off his tongue like honey. You shrug innocently, tossing the snowball in the air and catching it as you paced in front of him.
“Just thinking what would happen if I threw this snowball…”
Din knew exactly what you were getting at. He dared you to go further.
“Well, it all depends where you throw it.”
Smirking, you tossed the ball again, catching it in your gloved hands. “What if I threw it at you?”
Din huffed a laugh, his face breaking into the wide grom that you loved so much about him.
“That would be unwise, mesh'la.”
“Hmmm…” You stop in your tracks, pretending to ponder on the thought. You already had a plan. And you would carry it out, no matter the consequences. “Is that a threat, Din?”
“It’s only a threat if you’re about to do what I think you’re going to do.”
You giggle menacingly before throwing it in his direction. You didn’t mean to hit him square in the face. Honestly. You were aiming for his shoulder or chest or something. Din had always told you that you were better at piloting than you were at shooting. You never believed him until this very moment.
Your eyes widened in pure, genuine shock, your hand slapping over your mouth in disbelief. Din looked over at you, snow falling from his curled locks and eyelashes, his flushed face wet with melted snow.
“Sorryyyy…” you manage to say, the words muffled by your palm as you tried to contain your laughter. Heart beating rapidly in your chest, mind racing with thoughts on how this situation was going to be resolved, you were lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous about what was going to happen next. Getting up slowly, Din’s eyes never left yours, burning deep into your soul.
“Oh no. You’re not getting out of this that easily.” A playful smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he rolled a snowball in his gloved hands. You squeal, equally excited and scared as you run to grab another snowball as Din hurls his in your direction.
Now, you’re fast…but not that fast.
Din’s snowball hits your shoulder, almost knocking you off balance but you quickly regained your stability, and throw another snowball at him, not even looking to see if it hit him. The two of you tossed poorly constructed snowballs at each other from your chosen hiding places; yours behind the Crest, his behind a large tree on the opposite side of the Crest as you, the large ramp between the two of you. It was safe to say, with his clearly more qualified experience, he had a better chance of winning than you did.
You shielded yourself behind the safety of the gunship as you grabbed at whatever snow you could get your hands on in an effort to defend yourself. Over the months of your cohabitation, Din had taught you certain valuable things to prepare you for dangerous situations. Even though this wasn’t a dangerous situation as such, you were sure as hell going to treat it that way.
Rule no.1 - stay as quiet as possible, you were dead as soon as your opponent heard you.
Rule no.2 - rely on your other senses than your sight. Your hearing could be the most important tool you have in a given situation. Listen to everything, every misplaced step, every breath, every minuscule noise.
Now, even though he had tried to teach you these vital life lessons…it didn’t mean you were any good at using them in real life.
You didn’t hear Din sneak up behind you, taking his chance to advance towards your position. You didn’t hear the quiet crunching of the snow. But you definitely felt his arms wrap around your waist and spin you around. Disorientated, you barely register that within seconds, Din had you pinned on the ground, his thighs caging your legs. Droplets of melted snow ran down his face, down his cheek, and dripping off his jaw to hit you in the face. So you had managed to hit him again at some point.
“Thought you could beat me in a snowball fight, cyar'ika?”
You giggle beneath him, not caring that you could feel the wetness of the ground under your head. You were just glad he didn’t restrain your arms in his tackle.
“What are you laughing at?” A curious smile appeared on his face, his brows furrowing in slight disarray.
With the snowball still in your hand, you smush it into the side of his face, confusing him and giving you the time to use all your weight and roll him onto his back. You straddle his waist, your hands resting on his chest plate. Finally off the ground, the cool breeze causes your shirt to stick to your back uncomfortably.
“I think it’s fair to say I win this snowball fight.”
Din gaped up at you incredulously, hands running up and down your thighs. “You can’t be serious. There was nothing fair about how you "won” this snowball fight.“
"Aw, being a sore loser are we, Din?” you pout down at him. Din sits up abruptly, his arms wrapped around you so you couldn’t escape.
“I’m not a sore loser. You’re just cheating. Therefore, by default, I win.”
You chuckle at him, snaking your arms around his neck and interlacing your fingers. “How about a tie?”
Din shook his head at you. “No no. You cheated. There’s no hope for you here.”
Rolling your eyes, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Din’s lips which he gladly welcomed, tightening his arms around you to pull you impossibly closer.
“C'mon Din,” you whispered against his lips.
“I know what you’re doing, and this isn’t going to work. I don’t give in that easily.”
You kiss him deeper this time, sliding your tongue into his mouth and tangling it with his. Din moans into the kiss, still not entirely used to having his helmet off and exploring all the things he could do with you, but he loved it. You experimentally rolled your hips against his, the rough material of your jeans grinding against his pants.
“Fuck, mesh'la. You can’t-can’t do that. Not fair.” You felt him harden beneath you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doing anything,” you say innocently.
“Hmm no, of course not.”
Pecking your lips again, his hands travelled down to your ass, cupper the flesh in his large eager palms. Shuffling slightly, Din managed to stand up with you still securely in his arms, walking back up the ramp. Letting your feet touch the floor, Din pinned you against the wall of the Crest with his weight, catching your lips again in a slow, passionate kiss. Large gloved hands found their way to your ass again as his tongue licked deep into your mouth. You tangled your fingers in the curls at the base of his neck, never wanting his touch to leave you. With your lips still slotted against his, your hands moved down his body to his chest plate, nails trailing down the ridges and lines of his beskar armour. Letting your hands fall lower, you reached his belt, your fingers making quick movements to unbuckle it and pull it through the loops, tossing it aside. Din pulled back slightly, a slightly amused smile playing at his lips, “Eager, aren’t we?” Pulling a face at him, you focused on undoing the buttons on his pants and pulling down the zipper. His lips found your neck, your weak spot. You moaned Din’s name as he sucked purple bruises along your neck, making your task of pulling his pants down a little more difficult than you originally thought.
Eventually, you managed to yank his pants open, slipping your hand in and cupping his hardened cock. Din groaned into your skin, his hips rolling against your hand. You squeezed him gently through the thin material of his underwear, earning another low groan from him, a sound that went straight to your pussy. Din moved his hands to lift you up but you stopped him, pushing his chest slightly with your free hand. His brows furrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, but they soon rose into his hairline and his eyes widened slightly as you sank to your knees.
Din was always focused on your pleasure. Wanting to make you feel good whether it was with his tongue, his fingers, or his cock. He never asked you to give anything back, even though you knew he wanted it.
“Cyar'ika, you don’t have to-oh fuck.” You cut him off by licking his length through the fabric.
“I want to.” Licking your lips, you freed his throbbing cock from confinement, taking it in your hand and pumping it slowly as you look up at him. His arm is braced in front of him on the steel wall while his other hand is clenched beside him. You lick the precum that had begun to leak out of the tip, catching it on your tongue and swallowing it. Din shivered at the slightest touch from you, craving more, needing more. He would never ask for it, but you had spent countless nights thinking about this. With one hand still firmly grasped around his cock, you suck the reddened tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue before taking more of him deeper into your mouth. With your tongue flattened along the underside of his cock, you could feel all the veins and ridges of his length as you push yourself further towards the curls at the base.
A hand comes to the back of your head, grasping your hair, but not pushing. He wouldn’t push you further, he just held it tightly in his hand, grounding him to the moment as he spluttered broken sentences above you. “Look so-so good sucking my cock like this. So fucking perfect for…hmmm…me, cyar'ika.” You hum around his cock, the vibrations of your mouth drawing him closer to climax. With one hand pumping what you couldn’t take, your other hand reached to cup his balls. That was all it took for Din to break completely. “Shit cyar-gonna cum.” His balls tightened, legs stiffened as he spurted hot cum down your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, stray droplets falling out the corners of your mouth and dribbling down your chin. Lapping up everything he gave you, you pulled off his cock with a pop, looking up to meet his eyes again.
Din was looking back down at you, his eyes were blown wide with desire as he collected what you couldn’t swallow on his thumb, pushing it into your mouth. Standing up, immediately greeted by Din’s lips on yours, kissing you sweetly. “Took me so good, baby. You want me to fuck you right here?”
“Please,” you whined against his mouth, desperate for more. Desperate to relieve the burning between your thighs. You quickly stepped out of your boots as Din made quick haste of unbuttoning your pants. Letting them fall down your legs, you stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side. Din hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you up. Almost upon instinct, you wrapped them around his waist, your back pressed against the cold wall to hold you up.
His cock was already hardening again at the sight of your soaked panties, knowing that he did that to you. Din pulled them to the side and your head fell back against the metal wall as he ran a thick finger through your wet folds. You were soaked for him and he’d barely touched you.
“You ready for me mesh'la?”
“Always Din. Always for you."
Lining up with your entrance with one hand, the both of you moaned as he pushed into you. Rolling his hips at a slow pace, Din sheathed his cock fully inside you, groaning at how your cunt gripped him like a vice. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers digging into the base of his neck as he ground up into you. Din licked a stripe up the column of your throat, kissing and nipping at your jaw as his grip on your thighs tightened, bound to leave bruises in your skin. Snapping his hips harder, Din sank his teeth into the space where your neck met your shoulder and you yelped at the sudden sting. Running his hot tongue along the mark to soothe it, Din slid a hand from your thigh and around to blindly find your clit.
"You feel so good mesh'la. Always feel so good. Wish we could sta-stay like this all the time."
As he rubbed perfect circles your clit with his thumb, you gripped his thick, brown curls in your fingers as your head pushed further into the wall behind you, your cunt clenching hard around his cock.
"Fuck-fuck Din. Close…I’m close.”
As Din smiled into your skin, you could barely make out his response, but you’re fucking happy that you did. “C'mon baby. Cum around my cock. If you do, you can cum on my tongue later.”
Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt your orgasm wash over you. Pleasure spread through your whole body as Din rode you through your high, the feeling of you cumming around his cock only spurring him on his own high.
“Fu-fuck, where mesh'la?”
“Inside Din. Please. Cum inside me.”
The thought of filling you with his seed, marking your insides with his cum snapped something inside him. His thrusts became more erratic and forceful as his mouth found yours, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and dominating your tongue with his. Din moaned into your mouth as he came hard inside you, his cum painting your walls, dripping out of you and onto the durasteel below.
Neither of you moved for a second, staying close to each other, his cock still buried deep inside you. The only sounds to be heard were the low hum of the Crest and both you and Din panting to catch your breath. Din pecked sweet kisses along your shoulder and you released his hair from your fingers, cupping his stubbled jaw in one hand and bringing his lips up to yours.
“So…” you whisper between kisses.
“So…?” he responded, a smile curling at his lips.
“It’s a tie?”
Turning his head slightly, Din laughed against your cheek, his facial hair scratching against your skin. Leaning back to look into your eyes, he smiled at you as he took in your features, lines forming along his face from his grin.
Calloused fingertips dragged over your thighs. His breath hot against your neck as his lips tickled the sensitive skin just under your ear. His thigh muscles tensed and constricting under yours, hips bucking up against you tentatively. “I’ll let you take the lead, baby.” He was seriously regretting that now because you were taking it so painfully slowly, a smirk on your face, noting his self-restraint.
With his back firmly pressed against the couch, his legs spread, giving you a perfect place to seat yourself upon, he was trapped. Exactly where he wanted to be, but still trapped.
He felt your forearms scratching against the stubble on his neck, your fingers wrapping into the hair at the base of his head. Your legs rested either side of him, your entire body bare to him. His lips drifted from your neck to your sternum, placing dainty kisses down the bone, taking the opportunity to nip at your breasts. Wrapping his lips around your nipple, you moaned, your head tipping back towards the ceiling.
“Thought I was calling the shots, Leon?” you smirked, looking down at him as he kissed all over your breasts, sucking your nipples into his mouth, burying his face there as his arms wrapped around your back, begging you to move even a little.
“Can’t help it, baby. Fuck, I need you. But you haven’t moved in like an hour. So I’m keeping myself occupied.”
Your eyebrow quirked slightly. “It’s been barely five minutes.”
“Basically the same thing.”
Rolling your hips slightly, you heard a groan come from Leon in your chest, his breath hot against your body. “This what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to ride your cock this whole time? Should have asked nicely, baby.” You’d been asking to take the reins for a while, and even though he had agreed in the past, somehow the tables always turned and he ended up in charge by the end of the night. But this time you didn’t let that happen, you’d pinned him beneath you the first chance you could. Of course he was strong enough to flip you over if he really wanted to, but fuck he kinda liked this. Liked you taking control.
His kisses rose to your neck, biting at the skin, your moans so sweet in his ear. Your hips rolled faster, grinding against his cock with need. His pubic hair tickled at your cunt, your clit grounding against it to itch at something deep inside you.
Gripping onto his hair tightly, maybe too tightly, you started to bounce on his cock. Skin slapping against skin filled the room, the heat from the fireplace already adding to the heat between your bodies. Slick with sweat, you both held yourselves close to one another. With Leon’s arms wrapped and your back, his fingers digging into your skin, he pulled you flush against himself. “Keep going, baby. Please, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” Leon Kennedy rarely said please, so him saying it with his cock buried inside you gave you a sense of power in a way.
Bouncing yourself faster, your pace speeding up and your ass dropping against his thighs with such force, you found yourself drawing closer to a high.
Your nails dig into his neck, and you felt one of his hands reach up to cup the back of your head, entwining his fingers in your hair. He pulled you in for a messy, disheveled kiss, tongue part your open lips to explore your mouth.
“Gonna cum Leon, shit, so close,” you said against his lips, desperate for relief. Your legs were tired, you’d been at this too long and you never prided yourself on stamina, that was more Leon’s domain.
He felt your hips slow to a stop, taking the advantage to thrust up into you relentlessly, wasting no time to draw your orgasms to a close.
“Gonna cum, baby,” Leon hissed against your cheek, his arms tight around you. You held onto him, eyes rolling as the tip of his cock brushed up against that sweet spot inside of you.
He felt you come undone on his cock, flooding him while he stayed buried inside you, spilling into your already soaked pussy, mixing together inside you. You could feel it escaping to your thigh dripping down onto the couch beneath you.
You stayed like that for a while, bodies practically fused together as your breathing slowed eventually.
“I think we made a slightly mess on the couch,” you giggled quietly, as though you hadn’t just made enough noise to wake the neighbourhood already.
He huffed a laugh, kissing your shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll live.”
nsfw ~ 18+ ~ how your life would be if leon kennedy was in it
leon kennedy ~ the man who always called you after a mission to check in with you, even if it wasn’t you on the mission. he could be bleeding and sore and would still call you first before even checking in with his superiors
leon kennedy ~ the man who would hold you close, his hands around your waist and entwined in your hair, knowing how worried you were while he was away
leon kennedy ~ the man who would always treat you like the woman he adored. holding your hand in public, opening doors for you, brushing hair out of your face if it bothered you
leon kennedy ~ the man who would take you on dates whenever he wasn’t working, making you his first and only priority. treating you to lavish dinners, weekends away in the countryside, anything to make you feel special
leon kennedy ~ the man that would entrust only you to tend to his wounds. patching him up was how you two often spent your time together. giggling quietly when he whined too much about your stitches, or the pain of alcohol touching a gaping wound. he never was a begging man usually, but he always pleaded with you to be more gentle with his old soul, demanding a kiss or two after the “pain” you had put him through
leon kennedy ~ the man who couldn’t keep it together when he came home from a long period of time away. breaking down in your arms wasn’t particularly his thing, which is something you learned quickly. the first time you’d opened your arms for him to embrace into, instead you’d been lifted off the ground in one quick motion, hastily taken to the nearest surface, lips crashing into yours desperately as he undressed you. barely a hello made it past your lips before your moans and pleads caught up with it
leon kennedy ~ the man who worshipped you. spent hours between your thighs, buried in the wet mess he had worked hard on creating. whether it was in your bed or on the kitchen counter, he unravelled you with his tongue before burying himself deep inside you, desperate to be as close to you as he could
leon kennedy ~ the man who would spend all night “making up” the time that he had been away from you. pleasuring you sweetly at first his tongue and teeth would tickle and toy with your nipples, his hand firmly shoved in your pants, his fingers deep inside you, curling at the spot that made your eyes water. his thumb playing with your clit while you lay there, moaning his name breathlessly between messy kisses
leon kennedy ~ the man who continuously rut into you, hips rolling against your ass while your face pushed into the pillows, muffling your screams. teasing you with his fingers reaching around to rub your clit in perfect little circles, tipping you over the edge. “cmon pretty baby, i know you got it in you”, he’d muse, knowing that this wasn’t your first orgasm of the night and most likely wasn’t about to be your last
leon kennedy ~ the man who wanted you anywhere, anytime he could have you. he’d watch the way your lips gripped his cock as you took him down your throat like the good girl he always knew you were. his legs spread on the sofa while you kneeled between them, one hand stroking his hardened cock while the other played with your pussy, his phone to his ear while talking with his colleagues about an upcoming mission and the reports he’d forgotten to email over since coming home to you days prior
leon kennedy ~ the man whose favourite position to see you in happened to be straddling his lap, sinking onto his cock, rolling your hips against him as your fingernails clawed into his shoulders. mesmerised by your body and the noises emanating from you, he grabbed your waist roughly, forcing your body to grind against him at a pace that would make both of you cum in record time. “fuck baby you look so good riding me. you wanna cum on my cock, sweetheart? keep going like that, shit…shit in so close. i’m gonna cum so deep in your pussy you’ll feel me for days baby. been wanting this since the day i left”. if anything could turn leon into a blabbering mess, it was exactly this
toji as your new neighbour seemed innocent enough at first … but the innocence of a new friendship could only go so far
•• masterlist
•• toji x fem!reader
•• explicit
•• masturbation (m receiving), voyeurism
a new car outside your driveway was the first thing to catch your eye that morning. black pickup truck, tinted windows, not the usual type of car for the neighbourhood.
cup of tea in hand, you stepped onto the porch, peering out onto the street as you watched the door opposite swing open, a man stepping out into the sunlight.
he walked across the road, reaching into the open trunk and pulling more boxes out with ease, hoisting them onto his shoulder. you caught his eye, protected under the shade of your porch, tartan pants and an oversized shirt adorning your body, cup of tea in hand.
“hey”, he waved over to you, you responded with a smile and a wave of your own. “sorry for parking outside your house, there was nowhere else to park on the street”.
“it’s no problem”, you responded, leaning against the railing of your porch. “you can keep it parked there as long as you like”.
he smiled, a goofy smile where only one side of his mouth really lifted, accentuating the scar across his lip. “i’m Toji, by the way. nice to meet you”. the beginning of a friendship, you thought to yourself.
•
you didn’t see much of him over the next couple of weeks. his car was always gone before you woke up in the morning, but always back in the same spot when you returned from your own job in the evening.
you didn’t know much about him either. no wedding band, no kids, no late night callers. he just seemed like your average loner.
night fell and you were laid on the sofa, mindlessly watching the screen change pictures as the movie you were watching melted into the background. a figure caught your eye and you craned your neck up to look out of your window. toji opened his curtains, only his grey sweatpants adorning his body, quite loosely, you thought to yourself, not leaving much up to the imagination.
the movie was the last thing on your mind as you continued to watch. the street was quite narrow, a one way road that couldn’t fit two cars parallel to each other without side mirrors scraping each other. so it wasn’t hard to see through to the house opposite without squinting. you felt a little bit like a perv, wondering if you should look away, but if it was innocent curiosity, you saw no harm.
he slouched in a large armchair, rolling his neck back with a grimace on his face. stress, you thought. you felt like you could hear the cracks in his fingers through your open window as he popped his digits, his shoulders, his neck.
your eyes drifted back to the television, your brain not even comprehending the plot at this point as you fought not to look back through your neighbour’s window.
but you did. and you couldn’t look away.
now this was a quiet, quiet neighbourhood. the end of a cul-de-sac where nobody really left their houses after dark, especially this late into the night on a weekday. and you were so, so grateful.
his sweatpants, now pushed down his thighs, revealed a godly sight you never thought you’d be privy to witness.
his hand wrapped around his dick with such ease, fisting harshly towards his pleasure. you saw his mouth slightly agape, head rolled back as he fucked himself in his hand. you saw his lips moving, but even on this silent street with both yours and his windows open, you couldn’t make out what he was murmuring to himself.
you should look away.
but you couldn’t.
you felt a warmth between your legs that ached the longer you watched.
you watched his hips buck slightly off the chair, you saw the look on his face, the slight grin as he reached his climax.
you clenched your thighs together, not even realising how flushed this was making you. sure you’d had flirty conversation and a few glances since he moved in. you noticed him watching you walk away, staring a little too long at your ass. once you saw him in his bedroom, undressing himself to go shower, and he’d caught your eye, smirking as you dipped out of view.
you heard a groan as your eyes came back to focus. you heard him as he came all over his hand, his stomach, fisting the last few dregs from his cock as his muscles relaxed back into the chair.
your fingers desperately wanted to find your pussy as his groans were all that filled your ears, but you stopped yourself as you met eyes with the same man you were just spying on.
there was a certain danger in his eye, with a glint of mischief. he knew you saw the whole thing. he wanted you to. he did this on purpose.
you couldn’t look away from his eyes, not even as he stood, taking his sweet time in pulling his sweatpants up to cover himself. you saw the glistening release on his stomach and his hand, but your eyes drifted back up to his face.
he winked, smirking right at you, a sense of proudness painting his features.
this was certainly not a friendly relationship the two of you shared. not after today.
well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…
pair: joel miller x fem!reader
wc: 8.6k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.
nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!
dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!
joel found a lodge house…
You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.
He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.
Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.
You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.
You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.
And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.
It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.
What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.
But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.
So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.
You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.
You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.
Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.
You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.
In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.
You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.
All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.
After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.
It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.
It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.
A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.
You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.
Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.
It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.
You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.
The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.
You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.
Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.
There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.
You learned how to be ruthless because of it.
How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.
The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss.
And then you found yourself with Joel.
You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.
A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.
But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.
He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.
As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around.
You didn’t know what to do with that.
It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.
Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.
He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.
It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.
The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.
You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.
Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.
The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.
The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.
Joel. Of course.
He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.
“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.
You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.
“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”
Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”
Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.
“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.
Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway.
You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.
Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”
With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.
You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”
Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.
You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.
You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.
You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.
Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.
You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.
Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual.
But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.
You’re on your feet in an instant.
“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”
“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”
“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”
He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant.
His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own.
Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”
"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.
“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”
"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.
"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."
Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.
You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.
The smell of blood hits you immediately.
The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.
Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.
Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.
“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”
He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.
It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.
“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.
A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.
“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.
You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.
You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.
You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.
You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”
Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”
“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”
He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.
You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.
“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.
Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.
You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly.
For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.
Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.
You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.
Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.
But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.
You’re staring, and you know it.
The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.
You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.
Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”
You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.
“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.
Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”
The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.
His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.
He’s too damn proud for that.
You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.
“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.
You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”
“Who taught you?”
The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.
You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”
You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.
Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.
You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.
“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”
Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side.
“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned.
You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”
You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.
“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.
You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”
“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”
You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”
Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.
“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”
Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.
You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.
“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”
Joel’s breathing is heavier now, his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.
“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”
“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”
He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”
“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.
The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.
You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.
Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.
“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.
“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”
“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”
You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.”
“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”
That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.
Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”
It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.
You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you.
It never was.
“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”
Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.
“I want you to prove it.”
The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far.
You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.
But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing.
It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.
He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.
His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.
You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.
The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.
Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.
You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.
“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”
You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.
You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.
This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence.
Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.
He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.
The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin.
Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.
“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.
You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.
“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”
He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”
You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach.
His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back.
“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.
Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”
You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”
His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.
You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.
“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”
Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.
“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”
“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”
Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”
You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”
His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.
“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest.
“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”
Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.
“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”
You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”
“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”
You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.
“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”
Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind.
The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.
Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.
“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”
Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.
But you don’t hesitate.
You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch.
“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”
"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”
Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.
He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”
His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.
“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.
You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need.
You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.
Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency.
As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.
“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.
Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours.
The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.
“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.
Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.
“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.
"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.
He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”
You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”
Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.
“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”
Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”
Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.
Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.
“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.
He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”
The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.
“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”
“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”
“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”
Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.
The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness.
Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.
Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk.
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”
“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”
He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.
Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.
The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.
Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.
His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth.
The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.
“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”
As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.
Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you.
The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."
You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.
Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.
"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."
"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.
Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.
Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.
“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”
His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.
Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.
You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"
He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."
With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure.
You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.
Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.
His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.
He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.
For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts.
Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.
Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.
“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.
“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”
Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.
“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.
The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.
Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.
A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.
“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”
You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.
All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.
“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”
And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits.
Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO
i’ll be responding to all my gorgeously disgusting requests very soon and posting some new stuff so send me some ideassssss im lacking in creative juices rn
okay umm this might be a bit self indulgent because i am a switch (in bed) myself buuuut
rdr characters x reader (headcanons, but I will devour anything you write) that are leaning to dom side in bed but they get all subby and clingy when they are drunk [my love for guys that are a bit pathetic is uncontrollable],
or just, your take on how do you think they act when they are drunk...
[preferred characters are javier, sean and kieran but you can add/remove characters if you feel like it, as I said, I will devour anything😩]
- 🐊
nonnie...i feel like you live inside my head
i think about this CONSTANTLY
your wish is my command, nonnie. i don't typically write for sean and kieran but i love this request and want to make you happy <3
rating: mature
drunk thoughts, drunker actions
javier:
clingy to the MAX
hands all over you, even without thinking
he starts out innocently; a hand on your thigh, or his arm around your shoulder
but as the night goes on, that hand trails up your thigh, creeping higher and higher
the arm around your shoulder slides down your back, his hand tickling your spine as it settles at the globe of your ass
he likes to whisper little comments in your ear by the firelight when the whole gang is sat around listening to music, chatting amongst eachother
javier likes to see you blush, and the second that a drop of alcohol touches his lips, he becomes a fucking poet
his sex drive is through the roof, and he doesn't care that anyone's around to witness it
he needs you. and he needs you to know that
"javier!" you whisper, squeezing your thighs to stop his creeping fingers getting closer and closer to your underwear beneath your skirt. "you gotta keep your hands to yourself. there's people around."
he smirks, kissing your cheek from where he sits behind you, leaning against the log for support, his legs resting on either side of yours.
"come on, mi amor. i need you. you look so beautiful tonight," he whispers as his lips trail to your neck.
it wasn't long before he'd managed to pull you away from camp. he managed to pull you to the tall bushes behind the stables before he lost all sense of manners to the gang.
his hands were all over you. his lips kissed your neck, your shoulders, your lips as his hands undressed you. fingertips grazed up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your skirt up to your waist.
"god, i love you, mi amor," he mumbled between kisses, burying his face in your neck.
you sighed, tilting your face to the sky, the bark from the wood digging into your spine but you didn't care. when javier was like this, there was no stopping him. and you loved it. he could go on for hours, like a dog in heat. fucking you until you were sweating and panting, laid there breathless and legless. you readied yourself for a long night. a long, long night
sean:
most confident when he's had a few drinks
the accent slipped out stronger and you loved it
he complimented you until your cheeks were red raw. to him, you were the most beautiful person in the world
acts confident in public, but that all melts away when you've got him alone
looks at you with these eyes that make you feel like all he wants is to please you
his sole focus is to pleasure you
"oh, my shinin' star! there she is," sean beamed from where he stood on top of the table. hosea and arthur sat at the seats in front of him, shaking their heads and laughing at the drunk Irishman swaying on the table.
you stood there, a stupid grin on your face as you watched his sway to javier's music.
"come on, honey," you coaxed him over with your finger. "before you embarrass yourself completely."
he followed like a puppy, entirely engrossed in you. "aw darlin, we leaving the party so soon?"
you smirked, leading him to your shared tent and sealing it shut while he sat on your cot.
"the party isn't over just yet, Macguire."
"oh sweetheart, you spoil me. this is going to be fun." he pulled you into his lap, hands roaming all over you. the confidence slowly left his features as you adjusted yourself on his lap, gently rocking back and forth.
"the fun hasn't even begun yet, sean," you smiled, dipping your head to kiss him as he laid flat on his back, smirking for the evening to come.
kieran:
shy
a sweet shy boy
but feels a certain gust of confidence when he's had a few beers
always had more of a submissive personality in bed, but that personality turns up tenfold when he's drunk
will do anything for you. anything to you
all you need to do is ask
kieran is at your every beck and call
more experimental after a few drinks. wants to try more. do more. feels more adventurous with you
"you look really pretty," kieran whispered. you were stood together by the beer crate. you had wandered over to grab another bottle, smiling as you saw kieran. you kissed his cheek and leaned against him.
"such a sweetheart, kieran," you mumbled, smiling to yourself. you were both a little tipsy, but not enough to completely lose focus. it loosened you up. kieran was always more affectionate with you after a couple of drinks.
"want to...um...call it a night? head to the tent?" kieran stumbled out, his eyes glancing over frantically to wait for a response. you supressed a grin, nodding to him.
"come on then, kieran," you took his hand, leading him to your shared tent. kieran had moved into your tent recently after dutch accepted him into the gang. it was the best decision you ever made.
he followed at your feet, not even a step behind you.
his brown doe eyes stared at you as you guided him to the bed, gently pushing him on. "what are you doing, doll?"
you smiled. you loved that nickname he'd given you.
"you want to call it a night, kieran?" you asked, leaning over, your hands on his thighs. it wasn't fear that flashed in his eyes. it was more excitement. mixed with a twinge of nerves. "or do you wanna have a little fun first?"
his mouth fell open slightly, his eyes widening. "not ready to sleep just yet," he whispered.
you chuckled, "didn't think so."
not even javier's melodic singing and bill's less melodic singing could cover up kieran's sweet noises that came from your tent that night.
i've realised how i've basically ghosted my account for a few weeks but FEAR NOT i have returned and have so many things to post my queue is fucking ridiculous
requests are OPEN as always. i've got rdr2 fics on the way (thank u nonnie's i love u) but since getting back into my videogame era, if you have any uncharted ideas, i'm all ears hehe
