weakness
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader
summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.
word count: 5.7k
“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”
You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”
“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”
You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess.
“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”
“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”
“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.
“But Frank—”
“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”
Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise.
“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite.
“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”
Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”
Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside.
“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”
You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look.
Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.
You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime.
Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”
You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude.
Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”
“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”
Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.
What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?
What’s he going to think?
Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.
“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”
You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”
“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.
“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”
Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”
Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”
“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”
“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”
He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”
“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.
“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”
You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”
He ticks his index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”
You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”
Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”
For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you.
Could Frank actually be right?
Do you actually mean something to Joel?
No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.
“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”
“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”
Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”
Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”
“You are his weakness.”
He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut.
“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.
“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”
“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.
When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”
Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.
“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.
As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”
“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”
Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”
“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”
Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.
“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.
Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.
“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch smells heavenly—Frank knows it’s your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart.
Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.
“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”
You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”
Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”
His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly.
Had he actually meant that?
“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.
Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”
Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant.
Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.
Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in.
As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair.
Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.
About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”
“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum.
You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”
Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.
A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”
“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”
Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”
“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe.
“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”
You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”
“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”
Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.
You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside.
When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.
“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”
“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”
Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”
You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”
Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”
The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.
“What? But what about you?”
“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”
Bill and Joel being neighbors?
Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.
“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”
“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”
You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”
The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.
The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.
“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”
Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”
“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”
Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.
“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”
“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”
“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”
You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking long since anyone had ever touched him like that.
Since he’d let anyone touch him like that.
He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks into your touch.
Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.
“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”
Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”
You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”
“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”
Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.
He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.
Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.
“Joel…”
Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.
“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”
Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.
You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.
Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.
The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain.
“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.
His face remains just inches from yours.
“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”
“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.
Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”
You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”
He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.
This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage.
Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.
“Well, well, well.”
Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face.
“How long have you been standing back there?”
“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”
You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.
So maybe he’d been right after all.
Maybe you were Joel’s weakness.
But he was yours too.
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citrus — p.wb
⌗ pairing. . . park wonbin x male reader
⌗ genre. . . smut,, pwp tbh
⌗ summary. . . your fwb coerces you to drink pineapple juice solely because he loves the way you taste when you do. he's simply a man of science.
⌗ includes. . . switch!wonbin, semi-public, blowjob (rec.), overstimulation, mdni!!
⌗ wc. 1.4k
°A/N. . . requested by 🐈⬛✓ "....can I request a dom Wonbin whose obsessed with giving you blowjobs 🫣 I know he's a certified babygirl but something about his aura onstage mixed with those perfect lips of his makes my stomach do PIROUETTES." // HI ANONNN so sorry that this took me FOREVER love,, and that its so short. but i hope u enjoy it & i have more riize content coming very soon!!
the last thing park wonbin was, is predictable.
its been nearly 6 months since you've started your whole friends-with-benefits-borderline-situationship ordeal, and every time you hook up he still manages to make the butterflies in your stomach go absolutely haywire.
you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about him that always got you so worked up. truthfully, it could be anything from his passion, versatility in bed, or more obviously his painstakingly good looks — but the one thing that you couldn't deny was your favorite is that he was the absolute king of giving head.
and it was his favorite, too, if the way he'd randomly start stroking you to full hardness throughout the day was anything to go by.
at first, you simply loved the way his soft lips would mold against yours whenever you'd make out. even more so when it was in a frenzied manner in the backseat of his car after a rough exam. that cloud 9 feeling would descend upon you whenever he would draw your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it rhythmically. yet, even that quickly proved to be only a warm up for what he was about to do when he’d begin to unbuckle your pants.
wonbin was a beautiful man, with beautiful eyes and a beautiful soul to match. there were books full of wholesome things you could list that contributed to your attraction towards him. but at the end of the day, you just had to admit that the motherfucker had those tantalizing, plush, pillowy lips that felt even better than they looked when he would wrap them around your needy cock.
he loved how subby it made you - how easily only he could reduce you into a pile of desperation for him with just his mouth alone. one touch from him and desire was radiating off you in waves of shameless pheromones.
he knew how much you loved it, causing the prideful boy to take even more joy in sucking you off.
one day, wonbin even went as far as to start convincing you to add pineapple to your diet, after he was scrolling through tiktok and found out it made you taste better down there. the blonde already thought you were naturally the best thing he’d ever tasted, so he practically had to stifle a moan at just the thought that he could make your orgasms even sweeter.
it felt a bit silly, the way he would start ordering pineapple juice for you at restaurants, but you went along with it regardless for the sake of testing the theory.
and oh boy, did it turn out to be true.
after the fruit had become part of your habitual snack routine, the orgasms wonbin would give you were nothing short of out of this world. you'd noticed his grip on your hips would be even tighter once your precum started seeping on to his tongue, and his throaty moans became even deeper.
you'd feel his eager, pink tongue begin to lap up and down the bottom of your shaft with more intensity, goosebumps rising from every inch of your skin as you were catapulted into your climax.
"oh my god, binnie...." you couldn't help but whimper, fingers curling into his silky golden locks when you saw his eyes roll back in ecstasy.
that first time, the way he licked up the entirety of the mess you made even after spilling down his welcoming throat showed you how serious it was to him.
"fuck," wonbin would groan, making sure to collect any remnants off of your lower stomach before grinning up at you. "we are definitely sticking with that method."
then before you knew it, he quickly became greed personified.
you'd think with how in command he always was, that you'd be the one usually on your knees for him - but he easily made it known that he wanted access to your sweet juices whenever he wanted.
and to wonbin... there was never an inappropriate time.
you'd have to use both hands to count the amount of times that you'd been out in public when he'd lay one of his ridiculously attractive, veiny hands on top of your core just to feel how your member would twitch at his touch.
it didn't matter if you were out shopping. it didn't matter if you were in the library. and it definitely didn't matter that you were now at dinner with the entire friend group.
wonbin didn't hesitate to give you that signature look, the one he knew you couldn't resist, while cupping your quickly growing erection after playing with under the table for the past ten minutes. for good measure, he also gave his plump bottom lip a singular tug between his teeth, just to seal the deal, to make sure he got you in the bathroom with your jeans pooled around your ankles.
you had to admit it was addicting, the way wonbin's smooth hands glided under your shirt to run along your torso while he teasingly licked your bulge through the thin layer of your underwear. your head fell back against the cool tile, unable to voice out your thoughts of how irrational this was.
nothing mattered when wonbin finally tugged your boxers down, removing that final blockade from him and your aching cock, already glistening with leaking arousal.
he shamelessly moaned when he pulled you into his mouth, wantonly sucking on your length as if it were his well earned dessert. in a way, it was — you have no idea what wonbin did in order to earn it while your friends were mindlessly chatting away back at the table, but you couldn't say no to him.
"god, y/n, i've got to be a fucking genius." the potty (albeit talented) mouth groaned. "you taste so good and haven't even cum yet."
you whined at his words, causing him to smirk as you meekly attempted to pull his head back to your cock, silently begging for more. he loved to tease you by randomly stopping just to utter nonsense, knowing the cool air exposed to your private parts after being wet from his mouth made you shiver.
you furrowed your hands in their familiar spot in wonbin's hair as he fiddled about leaving opened mouth kisses along your thighs. he took the time to gently suck the skin just below your belly button to drive you insane before he went back to the real work.
you often wondered how he never complained about his knees hurting, but just as you were about to ask him, he started bobbing his head up and down your length with vigor.
a loud moan managed to escape your lips when he hollowed his cheeks out around you, his warmness sending your body into overdrive.
"c-cumming—" was all you had to mutter before wonbin was pulling back, a smug look on his face as he held his thick tongue out.
"give it to me, pretty boy."
you nearly sobbed, overwhelmed with how sexy he looked - baffled with how dominant his aura could still be even while on his knees for you. he was commanding you while below you, and you’d never thought once about disobeying.
all it took was a quick jerk of your wrist after grabbing hold of your length, your love liquids shooting out and landing right on their target.
it was lewd, and a little embarrassing, watching wonbin swallow all you had to offer, but the way his adams apple bobbed while he lowly hummed to himself in satisfaction nearly sent you into another climax.
"so good, baby." wonbin drawled, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward to firmly grab your thighs, catching your relaxing cock back in his mouth.
you whined out feeling wonbin’s tongue properly clean all around your length, the overstimulation making your legs shake erratically.
weak attempts to push his head away were futile, wonbin absolutely having to lap up every inch of your skin he could to truly savor in the moment. it was a lot, but your body craved it. your head feebly swayed back and forth against the wall, and you swore your legs were seconds away from giving out when he finally pulled back.
wonbin pulled your underwear and jeans back up around your waist as he stood, softly kissing your lips to bring you back down to earth. you swore during the moments like this, that you loved him.
"lets go wrap up with the guys, then we can watch a movie at the house. how's that sound?" he questioned, raising a brow while gently pinching your flushed cheeks.
you nodded, before taking a deep breathe to compose yourself.
it was a cute offer, but in reality you were aware that the rest of your night 100% entailed of you chugging a pineapple juice to-go in the car ride home, knowing that wonbin was gonna have you on your back drawing at least two more orgasms out of you before even turning the tv on.
© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved
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Rookiepillz: Here We Go Again
pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: almost a year after the rookiepillz incident, you and your now-boyfriend play some video games together. he's got a special strategy to help you win.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief cockwarming, daddy kink, rookiepillz
word count: 1.8k
a/n: finally. rookiepillz has come back to tumblr. the most anticipated come back of the century in my book. i just needed something silly as a break from school. we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming momentarily.
part 1 is here.
“ANOTHER GOJO!” you yell at your tv, flinging your controller to the other side of your couch. You feign a growl and look up at your boyfriend who’s lap you were laid up on. “Another fucking Gojo killed me. Can you believe this? It’s like a curse or something.”
He chuckles right next to your ear and kisses your temple. “You’ll get the win soon. You placed third that time, that’s not bad,” he tells you as you ready up again.
He was one to talk considering he planned and acted out a whole revenge scheme on you when he placed second. But hey, look at the two of you now. Snuggling on the couch, you wearing one of his shirts, playing video games in his lap while he gives you little smooches and whispers sweet nothings to you.
Sure, he used to be your stepdad, but he’s your man now. Sure, he dated your mom just to get back at you for beating him in a Fortnite match, but he also gave you the best dick of your life. And plus, he was pretty sweet when he wasn’t being a total asshole, so who are you to complain?
His arms squeeze around your waist, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, inhaling your scent as you beat on some innocent player in the lobby for having the default skin. He smiled as he watched your eyes light up with glee. He took in every word you said about how dropping at the pool house was the best strategy. He couldn’t get enough of you.
Yeah, he had fucked your mom as part of a long revenge plot over losing a victory royale. Yeah, he did humiliate you by spanking you and then revealing said revenge plot in the middle of fucking. But it’s only cause he knew you’d be his girl in the end. He was just having some fun with his sweetheart, right?
He half-watches you running around the map, giggling when you drive a car off a cliff or start doing the weeknd emote. A smile breaks across his face whenever you kill someone because you lightly tap his forearm and go “Look! Did you see that? I gottem.” And then he’d whisper to you, “mhm, that’s my girl” before planting another kiss on your cheekbone.
But what really got him going wasn’t the precious moments of joy or the sweet expressions of tension when you started losing health. No. What really fired him up was your rage. What could he say? It reminded him of nearly a year ago when he’d pulled you over his knee, the fire that had burned in your eyes. A day he’d never forget.
All he had to do was be patient for your match to start winding down. Once that notification came up that said there were only 25 people left, that red monster inside you would start rearing its head. The “motherfucker’s” and “god damn it’s” would start flying, and in no time at all, you’d be wearing that adorable pouty expression.
Like right now. He watched your character explode into a pile of loot. You slammed the controller down on your laps and crossed your arms, sinking back into his embrace. “That’s such bullshit. At least it wasn’t Gojo again,” you grumble.
Fuck, it got him hard.
“I think I know your problem, baby,” he says.
You look at him with a raised eyebrow. The one piece of certain leverage you had over your boyfriend was that you were a better Fortnite player. Whenever he gave you unsolicited advice on your playing, you made sure to bring up the fact that you had beaten him before.
“You’re getting so frustrated, y’know. I think you gotta calm down a bit. Let yourself relax so you can think and focus better. And I think I have a way you can do that,” he says.
“And what would that be?” you ask, tone growing softer as you start to catch on.
“How about you relax on daddy’s cock? I know you can only think straight once you’ve been filled up,” he purrs. His hands smooth up your stomach to your tits, coasting over your nipples that were already starting to harden out of instinct. Because if there was one guaranteed piece of leverage he had on you, it was that special word that you’d seemed so averse to just a few months ago.
“I think that’s a good idea,” you answer. It felt shameful that he could get a rush of arousal from you with just a simple word said in a particular tone.
You stand up, still working the controller as another match starts up. He tugs down your shorts for you, grinning like the madman he was at your lack of panties.
“Look at you all prepared,” he coos and kisses your hip, “You knew you’d be getting a treat from daddy today, hm?”
“Lucky guess,” you respond as he guides you back down. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs. He lines himself with your entrance and pulls you down until he’s bottomed out. You whimper and bite your lip, locking your eyes on the tv to focus.
For the beginning, he really does just let you sit there, nice and full. And maybe he was sort of right. You feel pretty calm so far. Everything is less stressful when, in the back of your mind, you’re noticing the way he twitches within you or the small grunts he lets out when you tighten around him.
You were so warm and tight. Felt just as good as the first time, and fortunately for you, there was no bombshell plot twist waiting around the corner. His fingers rub little circles on the outside of your thigh.
“What do you think? Is it helping, babydoll?” he asks.
“Mhm, thank you, daddy. Fits just right,” you say.
He chuckles at the cute way you say it. You work on sniping some people, he tests out rolling his hips. You sharply inhale but don’t protest. So he does it again. His cock slides through the warm embrace of your walls, kissing your favorite spots deep inside. You still seemed focused enough, so using his hands to hold you in position, he begins thrusting upwards.
Your breaths become longer and shakier, but you will yourself to maintain focus. The number of players was dwindling fast. He was bouncing you on his cock which normally left you empty-headed in seconds. But you needed this victory royale. You really were his girl.
He lets out a groan, leaning back against the couch cushions with his head tilted back. It wasn’t like he needed the win this time. He could let go. And so he did. He pistons his cock up into you faster by the moment.
“Fuck fuck fuck. Daddy there’s only two other people,” you whine in a plea for mercy.
“Almost there, baby,” he grunts. You honestly didn’t know if he was referring to your game or how close he was to cumming.
You don’t have time to think about that though because the circle is closing. You grit your teeth and grip the controller with all the focus you have left.
“Daddy, c’mon, I could win,” you whimper.
“I know, princess. You got this, pretty girl,” he mumbles while his eyes flutter. His abdomen twitches as he feels himself gearing up for release. “Tell you what. If you win this one, daddy’ll make sure you get a special reward later on.”
Now it is absolutely on. You can’t lose this. That’d be even more humiliating than the original rookiepillz incident. You’re dashing around the map as your boyfriend pumps in and out of you. It’s a difficult task, managing to hold off your release and try to win.
But soon enough you spot your targets. At the same time, it seems that Leon is reaching his. “Oh fuck, baby. So fuckin’ good. Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like,” he whimpers from behind you.
He bounces you, and you know your own peak is imminent. But you see the other players, and in an absolute miracle, you down one and then the other. The tv flashes gold with your victory as your body seizes with the white hot pleasure of release. Simultaneously, he unloads inside you, firing rope after rope into your tight cunt.
He fucks into you a few more times before actually coming back down to reality. You’re coming down too, melting back against his chest. He’s stroking your face when his eyes catch on the tv.
“Holy shit, you actually won?” he asks. His tone gives away that he’s actually impressed. and that’s your ultimate victory royale.
“Mhm, all for you,” you tease and lazily kiss his cheek.
“God, baby. Making me feel like the luckiest man alive right now,” he replies and reciprocates your small gesture of affection.
The two of you cuddle for a bit longer. You’re finished with the game, having finally gotten the win you wanted. And like always, he was such a sweetheart after, giving you kisses and praise, holding you close, even cleaning you up once he got up. Unfortunately, he had to go into work today, so it wasn’t long until he had to leave. He makes sure you’re content before he says goodbye with a kiss to your forehead.
Later that night though, you were alone at your place just as Leon was at his. You get a text. His contact lights up your lockscreen with the message “Get on Fortnite?”
You smile, hopping on your couch and turning on your console. You text back a “yeah hehe :)” He facetimes you, and you beam when you see his face, something you would have never thought possible when you met him. While you wait for everything to turn on and connect, you ask him about his day and how he’s feeling. He answers softly, heart melting at your interest.
To your surprise, when the game finally loads up, you have a gift. From rookiepillz himself.
“Leon…” you say excitedly.
“What?” he asks, playing dumb at first, “Just open it.”
So you do. You burst into laughter as Gojo appears on your screen next. “You’re so funny. I love you,” you giggle. It slips out so casually, he’s not even sure you registered what you’d let slip. He lets it go for now. He would tease you about it later. Right now, he was just so enamored with you.
As you prattled on about wanting to be the skin with the blindfold on and how he should get one for himself so you could match, he realized something. He’d lose every Fortnite match for the rest of his life if it meant he got you. His own personal victory royale.
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