"Whatever it takes"

blurbs, drabbles & headcanons

older attending!jack by @starlord-s

emotionally constipated!jack by @rr-after-dark

protective!jack by @/starlord-s

birthday blues by @richeeduvie ⭐️

blurb by @bunnywritesfanfic

younger model by @zivistardust

i’m sorry by @/ofthepitt

shower sex by @/loves-alibi

shirtless!jack by @/starlord-s

jack with superpowers by @domesticblisss

one-shots

knowing me, knowing you by @traumaone

never not mine by @highdramas

night shift by @lilyswritings

jack x jealous!fem!reader by @ofthepitt

workplace rumours by @stars-from-pluto

nanny! by @bitters-n-sweets

imagine being loved by me by @robbyology ⭐️

doctor barker by @lovebugism

one of your lines by @abbotafterhours ⭐️

death knell by @sun-snatcher

spare keys by @/bitters-n-sweets ⭐️

off-day by @/lovebugism

cologne and money by @relaxdiva

that was me blue by @docrobinavitch ⭐️

honesty is the best policy by @moondustfairies

i wanna be yours by @erwinsvow

you look like you love me by @croigealai

series

diagnosis : married by @s-writing-s ⭐️

an acute case of you by @tobedamned ⭐️

fated (omegaverse) by @loves-alibi

roommate!jack (series of blurbs) by @kiwi-was-here

too much by @thatfanficstuff

dr. jack abbot by @ponyosmom35 ⭐️

it is what it could be by @inkdippedquills ⭐️

Your insides fluttered and wilted at the same time, anxiety instantly buzzing through your body. The urge to cry surged as suddenly as your anxiety, but you tried your best to will it away, taking a shaky breath before you hurried from the kitchen to answer the front door.

Even though you knew him rather intimately at this point–and he had become a daily fixture in your life–Ari still took your breath away each and every time you saw him. Like he did now, as you pulled the front door open to find him leaning against the doorjamb.

He was so tall and broad–the largest man you had ever seen–and he easily towered over your smaller frame as he watched you with dark blue eyes that always smoldered when they were aimed your way. 

“Hey there, sugar,” Ari purred in that deep, lazy drawl of his. “It’s been a helluva day and I sure could use a sweet treat as a pick me up.”

Between his words, and the wolfish grin curling his lips, heat flooded your face as your gaze dropped–unable to hold his–and you stared at his chest. 

The worn denim button up beneath his sheriff’s jacket was undone by at least three buttons, giving a glimpse of the bronze skin and dark chest hair that lay beneath. Your eyes flickered to the gold sheriff’s badge pinned to his jacket, and you had to blink back tears, because growing up, you’d always been taught to respect the lawmen, that they were there to serve and protect. 

But even in this small town, which was warm and welcoming to you when you arrived six months ago, looking for a fresh start, Ari wasn’t here to protect you. 

He was here to use you.

Not long after you arrived, you realized the one downfall of such a small town was the lack of employment opportunities. And then you’d had the brilliant idea to turn your most beloved hobby and passion–baking–into the work you so desperately needed. 

You hadn’t realized you needed a permit to run your small business out of your home, and you certainly didn’t have the funds to rent a commercial space downtown, especially after putting all of your savings into buying your cute little house. 

So when the sheriff showed up at your door one day, letting you know you’d have to close down your business and go through the proper channels of applying for a permit and hope it was approved, you were devastated–desperate. 

And Ari had wasted no time using that to his advantage. 

He acted like he was a real nice guy doing you a favor as he suggested he could keep your little secret just that, as long as you were sure to serve him up a very specific treat any time he wanted it. 

That specific treat? It was you.

And now here you were, a few months down the line, still being used by the most powerful man in town, and praying each night before bed that your business permit would be approved any day now.

The saddest thing about all of this, was that you had noticed Ari soon after you had moved to town. You’d bumped into him a few times, and been so taken by his good looks and charming, easy demeanor. 

Not to mention, it had been a long time since someone had seemed so attracted to you, had so openly flirted with you, and it had been a real boost to your confidence. 

But now, as you stood before Ari, trying not to cry, you didn’t feel confident. You felt small, and not just in the physical sense.

“You look so fucking cute in those little aprons,” Ari hummed, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as he shamelessly eye fucked your outfit of choice.

It was nothing special, just a simple dress and your favorite colorful apron on top, which was already dusted with flour. You glanced down at yourself, feeling naked on the receiving end of Ari’s intent gaze, and hugged yourself tightly, shifting your weight as you avoided his gaze. 

“You gonna invite me in?” There was an edge to his voice that had you instantly alarmed and nearly tripping over yourself to stand back and gesture him inside. 

“I’m sorry, sheriff—“

He tutted, and your anxiety flared at the sound of his displeasure. 

“Ari,” you rushed to correct yourself. 

“No need to be sorry, sugar.” 

Ari shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack in your entry way. His sheriff’s hat was next, and then he turned his full attention back to you, lips tilting into a smirk as he spied the way you were nervously wringing your hands before you. 

“You’re such a nervous, fluttery thing, aren’t you?” He cooed. He reached for you, massive hands gripping your arms and gathering you flush against him, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat as he felt your softness press into his firmness. “Even after all these weeks.”

“I’m sorry–" you started, but your words morphed into a gasp as Ari gripped your chin with his fingers and ducked low to kiss you.

He took his time, lips as eager as they were possessive as they pressed against your own. Ari wasted no time in deepening the kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, conquering you thoroughly, until you showed him you knew who you belonged to with a soft whimper of surrender as you sagged against his chest.

He rumbled as he continued to kiss you, like he was greedily drinking from your sweet lips, determined to get drunk off the taste of you. His hands rounded your hips, groping up your sides, filling with your soft curves before descending so he could grab two handfuls of your ass and make you squeal. 

“You know what those sweet sounds do to me, honey,” Ari panted as he pulled away. He remained close enough to press his erection against your belly, giving another groan as he rocked against you.

You trembled as his grip shifted and he slowly gathered up the hem of your dress until he could touch bare skin. Ari’s fingers squeezed along the backs of your thighs before lifting and dipping into the band of your panties so he could grip your bare ass. 

You could tell he had a bad day by his touch–it was rougher than usual, which just ratcheted up your fear and had you wisping out a quavering, “Please–“

But before you could say more, the oven timer began to beep from the kitchen. 

You tried to pull away, but Ari wouldn’t let you. Tentatively, you met his gaze, shivering at how dark and lustful his eyes were. “Please, I don’t want the cakes to burn.”

Ari’s nostrils flared as he watched you for a long, tense moment. Then he sighed and gave your ass a squeeze, extracting his hands from your panties as he drawled, “Go on then.”

You turned without hesitation, relief rushing through you, but it was short lived as you felt a harsh slap to your ass, that had you squealing and cupping your panging cheeks as you scurried away into the kitchen. 

You could hear Ari’s throaty chuckle, and you could actually feel his presence as he followed you into the kitchen, but you tried your best to ignore him for now as you turned off the oven timer. 

Donning your oven mitts, you carefully pulled the cakes from the oven, setting them on the cooling racks you had set out earlier before turning the oven off and setting about cleaning up the kitchen.

Ari retrieved a beer from the fridge, which you only kept stocked for him, before dropping heavily into one of the chairs at the small dining table across the room. He watched as you fluttered around, keeping yourself busy and your eyes away from him as you worked.

“You hear anything about your permit application?” He asked. 

That gave you pause, but only for a second before you were moving things from the counter to the kitchen sink to be washed. “Every time I call, they say it’s under review, but no movement yet,” you answered glumly.

“Well you know they’re understaffed over there. Mayor Barber has bigger fish to fry.”

“I suppose.”

Ari watched as you cleaned the dishes, sipping at his beer, smirking because he could tell that you were drawing it out to avoid the inevitable. But he could be patient with you, to a degree at least, and he waited until you had finished and dried your hands before speaking up again.

“Come on, sugar, time to serve me my favorite treat.”

It was an odd sensation–your stomach sinking and swooping at the same time. The thing you hated most about this whole arrangement was how a part of you couldn’t help but be attracted to Ari, and like what he did to you.

It made you roil with shame, feeling that way–even if you couldn’t help it. Maybe you weren’t the good person you always tried so hard to be. Maybe you deserved to be used like this. 

But you guessed none of it really mattered. It was what it was, and there was nothing you could do about it. Not until you got your business permit approved anyway. 

So you took a shaky breath, trying to quell your nerves before turning toward Ari. Your fingers trembled as you reached behind you to untie your apron, but stilled at Ari’s directive. 

“No, leave that on, sugar.” He shifted in his seat, hands gripping his thick thighs as he watched you. “Dress too. Just take off your panties.”

You did as he said, that heat rushing to your face once more as you shimmied out of your panties and bent to scoop them up. You tucked them into one of your apron pockets as Ari held out a big hand to you.

When you placed your shaking hand in his, his thumb caressed over your knuckles as he reeled you closer. His hands were quick to frame your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh through your dress as he guided you down to straddle his thick lap. 

You tried, you really did, but you couldn’t hold back your tears as you settled against Ari’s lap, your dress and apron riding high on your bare thighs as your toes barely touched the floor now. 

“Why you crying?” Ari cooed, gently thumbing away your tears. “I’ve never hurt you, have I?”

“No, but…” you pressed your lips together, knowing it was better to bite your tongue as you stared at the base of Ari’s throat, focusing on the silver chain that peeked out from beneath his shirt.

“But?” he urged, his hands once again settling on your hips and giving a squeeze.

“Physical ain’t the only kind of hurt to be had,” you whispered.

“Christ, you’re the sweetest, most sensitive thing,” Ari chuckled. His hands smoothed up your back in a gentle caress as he touched his lips to your forehead. “We both know you’ve been sweet on me since you first moved to town, sugar. I just nudged us along to what we both want.” 

“I didn’t want it like this.”

Ari was quiet as his hands descended down your back, skimming around your hips before his palms planted on your bare thighs. They smoothed up, pushing your dress and apron to obscene territory, until you felt air touch your bare cunt and shivered in response. 

Ari hummed, pressing another kiss to your forehead as his hands shifted, rising to palm your breasts and give you a firm squeeze.

“Bet that sweet pussy says otherwise.” He smirked. 

Ari’s fingers were between your legs in the blink of an eye, gliding through the wetness coating your folds as you squirmed and felt a new wave of shame wash over you. 

He laughed at how wet you were, his voice a baritone taunt as he purred, “You were saying?”

Fresh tears gathered in your eyes as your humiliation crested, and a sob caught in your chest as you tried to pull away from him, wanting nothing more than to hide. To break down entirely.

But Ari was having none of it. He just shushed you as he wiped away more of your tears. Touching his finger beneath your chin, he lifted your wet gaze to his, his voice stern as he told you, “No more tears or talking. Just feel, sugar. I always make you feel good, and we both know it.”

He kept hold of your chin as he leaned closer, his thumb tugging until your bottom lip dipped and gave him more space to work with as he kissed you. It wasn’t like before–all claiming and conquering–this kiss was gentle, almost like Ari was apologizing without words. 

Or maybe you were just trying to fool yourself, trying to justify the way you gripped his shoulders and sank against him, willingly opening your mouth to the sweep of his tongue and kissing him back.

You were so caught up in Ari’s drugging kisses that you didn’t realize his hand was descending to your cunt until his fingers were at your clit, circling. You gasped, your fingers digging into the thick muscles of his shoulders as you rocked against his touch.

“That’s it,” Ari praised, teeth gently tugging on your lower lip. “Let me get you ready for my cock. I know you always struggle with it, baby, it’s so big and thick and your sweet pussy’s so tight.”

All you could do was gasp and moan as Ari’s fingers worked you over, until his hand was soaked with your juices and your clit was throbbing. Until you were chasing the retreat of his fingers, desperate for more, and whining against the crook of his throat when you didn’t get it. 

“I’ve got you, sugar,” Ari purred against your ear. 

He shifted your body closer, his hands working to undo his belt and jeans. And then you felt the tip of him nudging along your cunt. Your breath caught as he got himself covered in your slick before lining you up just right.

Ari urged your body down, his hard, thick length slowly spearing into you from below. You made a pathetic sound as the thick head of him popped inside before he slowly started to stretch you open.

“You can do it, sweetness, come on, relax for me,” Ari husked against your ear. 

His fingers returned to your clit, rubbing and circling, until you were moaning and so wet you could hear it. Ari gave a sharp rut that had you keening and him groaning as he finally settled deep inside you, to the hilt.

“Good girl,” he hummed, rubbing a big hand up your back and purring as you clenched around him in response to his praise. 

You did what you always did when Ari fucked you–hid your face against the crook of his neck, because you were so embarrassed by how quickly he always made you cum, and you could never look him in the eye when he was doing this to you. 

Even now, you were close, and you couldn’t help it. Something about Ari in particular–the way he stretched you so much and paid lots of attention to your clit–it always had your body turning traitor for him. 

So you hid against the warmth of his neck, shakily breathing in the musky scent of him as his hands grip your waist and he started to rock you over his lap. Once he started to thrust up into you from below–burying his cock inside of you as far as it could go and groaning each time he bottomed out–it was game over. 

You came with a sharp cry that you muffled against Ari’s neck as you clutched at his shirt and trembled from head to toe. 

“Fuck, I love how sensitive you are,” Ari laughed against your shoulder, humming at the way your pussy fluttered and clamped around his cock. “And the way you hide because of it.”

He groaned, his cock throbbing inside of you and making you gasp. You were boneless already as you sagged against Ari, all the anxious noise in your mind starting to fade to white noise as your body trilled and begged for more.

“This sweet pussy’s so greedy, isn’t she?” Ari cooed as you shifted against him, unconsciously seeking more friction. “I’ll give her exactly what she wants, just like I always do.”

Ari’s hands were rougher now as they framed your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he lifted you enough that his tip barely stretched your hole before he was slamming you back down until you sheathed him to the hilt all over again. 

You gave a ragged cry against his neck, not realizing the way you were teething on his skin until he grunted and started to fuck up into you with enthusiasm. 

And your body–the ultimate betrayer–she loved every second of it. It was like you had no control over yourself as you started to bounce on Ari’s cock, the wet squelch of your pussy being filled with his thick length over and over again ringing throughout the kitchen.

Soon, your wordless cries and pleas to cum, along with Ari’s quiet snarls and throaty moans, joined in on the symphony of ruin. 

The chair creaked beneath the weight and onslaught of your and Ari’s feral fucking, and when his fingers once against snuck between your slick-coated thighs and strummed at your clit, you came so hard you sobbed. 

The pleasure streaked through you–unrelenting–making your thighs shake and your toes curled as you whined against Ari’s shoulder, biting down as your pussy fluttered and clenched and creamed all around his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Ari groaned, tucking his face against your throat as he hugged you tight and started to pound up into you, chasing his release. 

Just before he came, his big hands smoothed up your back, clamping around your shoulders and holding you in place. And when he tipped over the edge, he had you right where he wanted you–held securely in his lap, so he could make sure you took every last drop of his cum that he fucked deep into your still fluttering cunt. 

You were still struggling to catch your breath as Ari went still, his big body sagging back in his seat as he kept a tight hold on you. You could feel the warm heaviness of his seed filling you up, and you couldn’t help it as your pussy fluttered some more at the thought of being coated and stuffed full of him. 

At being so thoroughly claimed. 

Ari’s mind seemed to be wandering the same territory. He purred as you warmed his cock, his fingers gentle as they trailed up and down your back before one of his hands wandered down to pet your belly. 

“You’d make such a good mother,” he husked. “Look real pretty round with my baby.”

You gasped, tensing in Ari’s arms. Because having you in a compromising position and using you for sex was one thing. But starting a family…that was another.

That was so much more–and forever. 

“You just wait, sugar,” he chuckled, nosing along your neck and pressing a kiss to your sweaty skin. “It’s only a matter of time before you belong to me in every way. And I’ll take such good care of you, don’t you worry.”

Shivering, you tentatively sat up, not realizing your cheeks were streaked with tears until Ari took a moment to kiss them all away. You could feel his gaze on you, even if you couldn’t meet it, and when you went to move away, Ari grabbed your wrist, holding you captive.

Your eyes shyly lifted to his then, and you were quick to register the expectant look he was giving you. It made your face warm and your insides flutter, which made Ari smirk, since he could feel it on account of you still warming his cock. 

Feeling more warmth seep into your skin, you rose to your feet, your bodies separating before you sank to your knees between Ari’s spread legs. You were gentle as you reached for his soft cock and cleaned it with your mouth–making sure to lick away every last trace of his cum and yours before tucking him away and doing up his jeans. 

“You’re so good to me, sweetheart,” Ari sighed, giving your cheek a gentle caress with his knuckles. He grinned when you got to your feet but wobbled so much he had to catch you by the hip to keep you upright. “Go on and get cleaned up, I know you hate being a mess.” 

Something inside of you twinged over the fact that Ari knew that about you–could read you so well. But he was right, and all you could focus on right now was how much you needed to get clean. 

How dirty you felt. 

Still avoiding Ari’s gaze, you turned and scurried from the kitchen without another word. 

Ari watched you go with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He reached for his beer, taking a long pull before setting it down just as he heard the upstairs shower kick on. He was imagining that luscious body of yours naked beneath the spray of water when his phone began to buzz from his back pocket. 

Ari shifted, pulling it free and glancing at the screen before answering the call with a warm, “Mayor, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Mayor Andy Barber got straight to the point, as he often did. “The home baker,” he said. “Am I still burying her business permit application or should I finally put it through?”

“Nah, leave it on ice until I tell you otherwise,” Ari smirked. 

“Will do,” Andy murmured. 

“Thanks, mayor.”

“Sheriff,” Andy returned before ending the call.

Grinning, Ari set his phone down beside his empty beer before rising to his feet. He gave a big stretch, cracking his neck for good measure, then turned and sauntered from the kitchen and up the stairs to join you. 

Just thinking of you in the shower had him getting hard again already, and Ari just couldn’t help but indulge in yet another serving of his favorite, most sinfully addictive treat.

What. The. Fuck. Ever. I’d let this man ride me and breed me ‘til his heart’s content. 😌 Please take a moment to hoe spiral with me, won’t you?!

—

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You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls. 

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own. 

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

His office is big, airy, smelling of incense and cologne. Theology books and bibles in a few different languages are organized on the wooden shelves. A cross complete with a sorrowful looking Jesus hangs on the wall behind his desk. 

“These figs are divine,” Father Miller groans, “your mother gave me some cuttins’ but I’ve never been able to grow a tree myself.” 

He bites into the fruit and moans at the splash of sweet juice that soaks his tongue. 

“Here, take a bite,” he offers. 

His hands tighten in your hair and he pulls your mouth away from his spit-covered cock. You whimper at the loss but he shushes you with a stern bite, and you quickly comply.  

“Reminds me of somethin’ else that’s sweet,” he whispers as he watches your throat move in a swallow. 

“Please, daddy,” you moan, “I wasn’t done.” 

Father Miller gives you a soft pat on your cheek, trailing his fingers down to tug at the rosary that hangs between your breasts, before pushing your head back onto his cock. 

He spreads his knees wider in his desk chair. 

“What a beautiful way to ask for forgiveness. Figs and your mouth on my cock.” 

If his big dick wasn’t in your mouth, you’d cringe from embarrassment. Your own selfish and jealous actions led to his disappointment and your need to ask for forgiveness. 

“Envy is a sin. You choose to have these emotions and these moments of insecurities,” Father Miller murmurs in that tone that makes you squeeze your thighs. 

“When those thoughts begin, it’s your responsibility to come to confession. You have to talk to me so I can help.”

Father Miller does it again, yanking you back from his cock and tilting up your chin with his finger.

“Did you hear what I just said?” 

“Ye–yes–” 

“Repeat it to me,” he interrupts. 

“I need to–to ask you for help when I’m feeling jealous,” you choke out. 

His hand tightens in your hair and he pushes himself deeper into your mouth. You gag, tears pooling on your waterline from the burn in your throat. 

“Good girl.” 

You want to run your hands down his strong thighs and feel the clench of his muscles, but they’re bound behind your back with your soaked panties. Aside from the rosary, the panties around your wrists are the only clothes you wear. 

You massage your tongue on the thick vein that spans underneath his cock. Spit dribbles down your chin as he begins to move your head up and down. 

“Fuck, just like that, honey,” he groans. “Got such a perfect mouth.”

You moan at the praise. Honey, the name he’s reserved just for you. Even at bible study on Wednesdays and at Mass on Sundays, he’ll call you honey, no matter who's around. 

“Those other women who come here, they seek advice. I can’t turn them away.” 

You let the tears fall from your eyes, partly from the cock spearing down your throat and also from the fact that he’s right. It’s his responsibility to listen to his congregation. 

Even if you know the women stare at him with dreamy eyes and fantasize about his broad shoulders, Father Miller must give them individual attention. 

He clenches his teeth the moment your nose hits the curly hair at his base. You swallow and fight through the burn, sucking at the salty taste of his skin. You clench your thighs again, hoping for any type of stimulation. 

“Aww,” he coos, “what does my poor little sinner need?” 

You whimper on his cock, wanting to move your head away so you can tell him how much you want him, but his hand keeps you in place.

“Nothin’ to say?” he mocks, “You don’t want me to eat your little cunt, honey? Make you cum on my tongue? Just want to keep suckin’ daddy’s cock?” 

Slick drips from your pussy. Mean, mean, mean, you chant in your head. You’re sure you look like a pathetic mess; shivering and crying hard enough to ruin your makeup. 

Father Miller laughs and wipes the tears from your eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” 

You’re roughly pushed off, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick. You continue to sob as he yanks you up by your arms and bends you over his desk.  

“I said enough,” he snaps, landing a hard spank to your ass. “I won’t repeat myself.” 

Your shiver as your tits make contact with the cool surface of the desk. The rosary presses to your chest, indenting the soft skin.

“Such a beautiful cunt for a sinner,” he whispers. 

His hands massage your ass and he pulls apart your cheeks to stare at the puffy mess between your thighs. You try to move out of his grasp, embarrassed at how he can see every delicate inch of you, but he spanks you again. 

“Can’t seem to stay still,” he growls, “after everythin’ you’ve done, you still wanna disappoint me?” 

“N–no, daddy. I’m sorry, I’ll–I’ll stay still.” 

His leather shoe pushes on your ankle and you spread your thighs wide. He runs the tip of his length up your slit, ghosting over your sensitive button. You push your hips back and try to sink onto his cock, but he presses down on your lower back to keep you still. 

“Little sinner,” Father Miller scolds, “instead of trusting me, you accuse me of sleeping with other women. After the oath I gave to this church?” 

“I was wrong! I’m sorry,” you cry, hot tears rolling down and landing on the desk. 

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll help you repent. Count f’me.” 

He moves slightly to the side and uses a large hand to spank you hard on your right cheek. You yelp, immediately choking out a one before feeling his hand massage your other. 

You push up on your tiptoes, presenting your ass to him, hungry for his touch. He starts off soft, slow, squeezing the plump curve of your ass. His palm lands harsher and you welcome the sting of each slap, pushing back into him, heart beating faster with each number. 

Once he gets to fifteen, he lands it right on your pussy. You push up on the desk in surprise and try to beg for more, daddy, please–I’m so close. 

“No more, baby,” he coos, “did so well with your spankin’.” 

“Please, daddy,” you whimper, “please give me your cock. Please fuck me.” 

His hand tugs on your hair and he makes you stand to your full height. 

“This is punishment, honey,” he whispers in your ear, “you’re gonna have to work for my forgiveness.” 

You’re not sure what else he could possibly make you do but he spins you around and you watch as he sits down in his desk chair. 

“C’mere,” he growls. 

His hands wrap around your waist and you're pulled into his lap. You’re unbalanced, still unable to use your hands but he reaches around you to keep you steady.

With his other hand, he teases the fat tip to your entrance.

“You’re gonna ride me. Maybe after I’ll forgive ya’.” 

“Yes, yes,” you chant, slowly sinking down on his cock. 

His strong hands slide to grip your waist and his fingers dig into your soft skin. You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling with blurry eyes, your teeth digging into your bottom lip with each inch that’s stuffed inside of you. 

“That’s it, honey,” he murmurs, “take my cock, take it.” 

You can’t speak, can’t ask for more from your daddy. The angle is new, something you two have never tried before, a stretch that makes you dizzy and the air in your throat stutter. 

He helps you with the last few inches, praising you for having such a perfect cunt, feel so good wrapped around me–made just for me, honey. 

Father Miller gives you time to adjust, kissing your chin, nipping your neck, running his lips over the rosary that sways between your breasts. 

His tongue lashes over your nipples and he sucks as much of your tit as he can get, into his mouth. He’s mean, leaving indents of his teeth on your skin. It’s exactly what you want–what you need. 

He knows right when it’ll become too rough, too much for you, and he’ll kiss, swipe his tongue over the hurt, rain praises on your skin. 

The both of you fit awkwardly on the big chair but you make it work, digging your knees into the leather and bracketing his thighs to grind slowly in his lap.

“Look so pretty on my cock, honey.” 

He’s taken you from behind, bent over his desk with your hands clawing at the wood. He’s taken you in the tiny confessional, your body folded in half while he stares into your eyes as he finishes inside of you. 

Not like this, though. Not with your hands behind your back and his on your waist, helping you bounce and grind on him. 

You tremble in his hold, feel each kiss of his fat cockhead to the syrupy end of you. 

“Ne–need to c–cum,” you choke out, remembering you can use more than just whines and whimpers to talk. 

His cheeks are red, his hair is in disarray, and you notice sweat on his neck, peppering along his clerical collar. His thighs shift underneath you and he plants his feet more firmly on the ground. 

“Wantcha’ to cum on my cock,” he demands. 

Father Miller uses you like a toy, moving your body how he wants it, burning the memory of his cock into your pussy. His lips find yours in a sloppy kiss when you tilt forward, almost falling from how fast he’s using you. 

He’s so big, buried deep in your pussy, splitting you open. Your clit brushes on the curly hair at his base with each rock of his hips and you're there–cumming on Father Miller’s cock, opening your mouth in a silent scream while you shake in his hold. 

You soak his cock and the front of his dress pants with your slick. He’s groaning at each pulse and flutter of your pussy. Take it so well, honey he murmurs around your nipple. Milkin' my cock, baby. 

He moves you up once, twice, and keeps you pressed to him, spilling his seed in your cunt. Without even trying it knocks another orgasm from you, just as you were coming down from the first. 

Father Miller bites at your mouth, bringing up his hand to squeeze your neck and accept his kisses. His cock twitches slightly inside of you as he spills, marking you deep. 

He yanks off your panties and you immediately move your hands into his hair, tugging through the strands and pressing your body even closer to his. Your breathless, shivering in his hold from the two orgasms that were shocked out of your body. 

Just as quickly as it happens, he pushes you off of his lap. You land in a limp heap on the floor, eye level to his soaked cock. It’s covered in the both of you. 

“Give it a kiss, and say you’re sorry.” 

You happily follow his command, pressing a kiss to the tip, licking away the stickiness from your lips and give him a I’m so sorry, daddy. 

He smiles at you before reaching to take the rosary off from your neck and placing it in your hands. You stare up in confusion and watch as he rises to his full height. 

“Now, I want you to kneel here,” he says, grabbing you by your upper arm and dragging your naked body right in front of the cross, “and do two Hail Marys and three Our Fathers.”