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mando-forgive-me · 1 day ago

Text

caught mid-cum

pairings joel miller x sunshine!reader

summary joel takes a polaroid of you half-naked in his lap then another, and another while you're riding him, his cock buried deep inside as he fucks you slow and possessively.

tags 18+ minors dni, explicit smut, established relationship, possessive/soft joel, photo kink, oral (f receiving), creampie, riding, praise, mild dirty talk, emotional intimacy, post-outbreak setting, emotional smut, mutual consent, domestic setting, porn with feelings, slow and intense sex.

note this is a follow-up to part one and can be read as a standalone. i recommend reading part one first for the full emotional build-up and context. your media consumption is your responsibility.

masterlist

part 1

joel sits beside you on the couch, one arm draped across the back, his other hand resting on your thigh. he’s been watching you in that slow, intense way he does. his eyes trace your face, your mouth, your collarbone where the blanket has slipped down just slightly.

you catch the flicker in his eyes when he glances toward the table.

the polaroid camera is still there.

your heart skips.

he sees the shift in your expression. curious, maybe a little daring. then his voice comes, low and rough.

“let me take one of you.”

he pauses. “like this.”

you don’t ask him to explain. you know exactly what he means.

“only if you’re in it with me.”

he leans forward, grabs the camera, and sets it on the arm of the couch, pointing toward where you both sit. he adjusts the angle, checks the light, then looks back at you.

“you sure?” he asks, voice softer now. careful.

you reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. “yeah.”

joel’s breath catches. his eyes sweep across your bare skin like he’s starving. like he’ll never get enough of you.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs. “fuckin’ breathtaking.”

he kisses you slow, hands roaming your sides and tugging you into his lap. the blanket slips off completely now and pools around your knees.

“you want the picture?” you whisper against his mouth.

joel’s fingers flex against your hips.

“i want all of it, sweetheart. the picture. the moment. you.”

he tilts his head and nuzzles your cheek. “look at me.”

you do.

the first picture clicks. your bare chest is pressed to his, both of you tangled and close, lips almost touching. your eyes are locked on each other. the air is thick with everything unspoken.

the intimacy is startling. it’s soft and wanting, but laced with a tension that’s about to snap.

joel stares at it like it’s a relic. something holy.

you don’t even hear the photo slide out. his mouth is on your chest the moment the shutter goes off. rough whiskers graze your skin as he sucks softly, kisses deeper, hands everywhere at once.

your breath hitches when he presses his hips up into you, grinding slow and hard through denim. one of his hands slips between you, fingers undoing your jeans with practiced ease. hungry and unhurried.

“c’mon,” he murmurs. “let me see you.” he pushes your jeans down, dragging your underwear with them. then his hand is between your thighs.

you gasp. more from the way he looks at you than from the slow curl of his fingers.

“you’re drippin’ for me, baby. that camera’s not gonna do this justice.”

joel watches your chest rise and fall, your thighs twitching open wider as his fingers glide through the wetness between your legs.

he could stay like this, watching you come apart under just his hand. but he wants more. needs it.

he leans forward and eases you gently onto your back across the couch cushions. his hands slide under your thighs and spread them apart with a reverent kind of hunger.

you look down at him, breath catching. one arm bent behind your head, the other resting just above your stomach.

he sees the trust in your eyes. the want. then joel’s mouth is on you.

he licks a long, slow stripe through your folds and groans low in his chest like he’s tasting something forbidden. his tongue moves with purpose. broad strokes, then tight, teasing circles around your clit.

one hand stays anchored on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin. the other is flat across your stomach, holding you down when your hips start to rise.

“fuck,” you whisper, voice breaking.

joel grins against you and sucks gently just once right where you’re most sensitive. your legs twitch. his beard scratches your inner thighs, his mouth warm and wet and relentless.

he moans again, louder this time, like he’s the one being undone.

“you taste like heaven, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice wrecked. lips glistening as he glances up at you. “could stay down here all night.”

your fingers curl into his hair and tug. your whole body’s shaking now.

flushed, wild, so goddamn beautiful it makes his chest ache.

he doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow. his tongue stays steady and precise, dragging you up and over the edge with devastating ease.

“please, joel,” you pant. “i want—”

you cry out, clenching hard around nothing, your whole body trembling. the orgasm crashes through you, fast and sharp and overwhelming.

joel groans like he feels it too, like your pleasure belongs to him.

only when your hips start to twitch away from the overstimulation does he finally pull back. his mouth is wet, lips slick with you, eyes dark and proud as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“goddamn,” he breathes. “that’s the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.”

you’re boneless beneath him, flushed and panting. joel leans over to kiss you—slow and deep, letting you taste the wreckage of yourself on his tongue.

he rises over you again, gripping your waist as you pull yourself back into his lap. your chest is still heaving, your body trembling from his mouth. he kisses you hard and lets you taste yourself on his tongue.

then he grabs the camera again, rougher this time. he positions it and angles the lens. his cock strains against his jeans, painfully hard now.

“hold onto me.”

your arms wrap around his shoulders, thighs spread wide across his hips.

the second picture clicks.

it will show your face glowing, your skin still damp with sweat, your eyes half-lidded and wrecked from release. his mouth at your throat. your bodies flushed together. all of it—real and raw, like something pulled straight from a dream.

you’re already trembling in his lap. the aftershocks of his mouth still echo through your limbs. but it’s not enough. not for him. not for you.

joel shifts, rough with urgency now, dragging his jeans down far enough to free his cock. he’s flushed and hard, the head glistening with precum, heavy against his stomach.

you straddle him again, still open and slick from the way he devoured you. when you sink down on him, slow and deep, he lets out a low, guttural sound that punches right through your chest.

“fuck,” he groans. both hands grip your ass, holding you still as he fills you inch by inch. “jesus, baby… you take me so good. always do.”

you’re straddling him now, legs spread wide around his hips, his cock buried deep inside. the firelight casts a golden halo across your skin, flickering off every curve and line of your body.

you start to move. slow at first, grinding down with long, aching rolls of your hips. the stretch of him hits just right every time.

joel’s eyes are locked on you. reverent and starved. like he’s trying to memorize everything at once.

your chest bounces with each motion. soft and full, catching the firelight in a way that has joel swearing under his breath.

he drags one hand up your waist, over your ribs, and cups one breast in his palm like it’s something he’s been aching to hold.

“sweetheart,” he mutters. his thumb brushes over your nipple, watching it pebble beneath his touch.

“you look…” his voice breaks off, too breathless to finish.

your breath hitches as he leans forward. his mouth closes around your breast, sucking deep, his tongue hot and slow against your skin. the angle makes you arch back, hands braced on his thighs, hips grinding harder into him.

joel groans and pulls back just enough to look up at you. his eyes are wide, his lips slick.

“you gotta see yourself,”

rough and hoarse. he reaches for the camera, never pulling out, never letting you go. he steadies it with one hand while his other anchors at your waist.

“keep movin’, baby,” he says, voice thick. “just like that.”

the third picture clicks.

neither of you flinch. you’re too wrapped in each other. the photo slides out with a mechanical whir, forgotten for now.

you brace both hands on his chest, grounding yourself as you move. slow grinds that make his breath hitch and his fingers dig into your skin.

“look at you,” he whispers. awe creeps in behind the heat. “ridin’ me like you’re made for it.”

your body pulses around him at the words. he feels it and groans at itand meets your rhythm with upward thrusts.

each one hits deeper, rougher, sweat slicking where your skin meets.

the photo begins to develop on the arm of the couch, curling at the corners.

your thighs are splayed around him, skin flushed and glowing in the firelight. your hips caught mid-motion. his cock buried inside you, visibly thick and glistening. your breasts bounce with each thrust, one caught mid-air in motion, the other soft and flushed from his touch. your head is tilted slightly back, lips parted, your expression soft but undone. his hands grip your hips tight. his jaw is clenched, eyes staring up at you like he’s praying.

it’s raw. obscene. unfathomably intimate.

but right now, the only thing he’s focused on is you. your sounds, your heat, your hands twisting into his hair when the thrusts go deeper.

“joel,” you whisper, desperate now. you fall forward, forehead to his, breath mingling. “i’m close again—”

“then give it to me,” he pants, voice wrecked.

“wanna feel you come on my cock, baby. wanna feel every fuckin’ second.”

you shatter around him, moaning his name like a prayer. your walls clench hard. your whole body goes taut and trembling.

joel groans, deep and broken, and thrusts up into you with one last grind before he’s coming too. he fills you, holding you still while he spills deep inside.

for a long moment, the only sound is the rain. the soft crackle of the fire. your breathing.

joel wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

then he shifts, gently.

he slides the photo beneath the cushion, lips brushing your temple.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the edge.

you glance at it over his shoulder. your body still twitches with aftershocks, and you laugh—hoarse, breathless.

“you’re the one who took it.”

“that one’s mine,” he says. “but i’ll keep it close.”

you nuzzle into his chest, spent and warm.

“next time,” you whisper, “you’re the one underneath the camera.”

joel nods softly and wraps his arms tighter around you.

the fire has burned low. outside, the rain still whispers against the windows. softer now. like it’s falling asleep too.

you’re curled up against joel on the couch, half-draped in a blanket. one of his arms is slung heavy around your shoulders. your bare legs are tangled with his. the smell of smoke and skin still hangs thick in the air.

for a long time, neither of you speak.

just the steady rise and fall of his chest. the quiet press of his lips to your temple. his hand running slow and idle down your spine, like he’s memorizing the shape of you all over again.

eventually, your voice breaks the silence. soft. sleepy.

“you really gonna keep that picture under the cushion?”

joel huffs a quiet breath. “damn right i am.”

you lift your head to look at him, eyebrow raised. “what if someone finds it?”

his hand stills on your back.

“ain’t nobody sittin’ on that couch but me and you,”

there’s a beat of silence. then his voice drops, low and dangerous.

“and if someone does find it, they won’t see the light of day again.”

you blink. half startled. half… aroused.

“joel.”

“i mean it.” his eyes lock with yours. dark. possessive. no trace of humor.

“that picture’s mine. you—you’re mine. ain’t lettin’ anyone else look at you like that. don’t care who it is.”

a flush creeps up your neck. heat pools low in your belly. you press your palm to his chest and feel the steady thrum of his heart under your hand.

“you think i want someone else seein’ you with my cock buried in you, mouth open, lookin’ like you’re gonna break for me?” he says. his voice is rough with possessive heat.

“no, baby. you're mine.”

your breath catches. the way he says mine. not just the word, but the meaning behind it makes your skin prickle.

“you were so beautiful,” he says. like the thought has been sitting heavy on his tongue. “still is.”

you go quiet. your heart kicks up in your chest.

“you looked at me,” he says, voice low. “right before the shutter clicked—like nothin’ else in the world mattered.”

you glance up at him again. watch the way his eyes trace your face gentle now. open in that rare way he lets you see.

“there isn’t,” you say simply.

joel swallows hard. his arm tightens around you. you feel his next breath shudder out against your skin.

“i love you,” you say, quieter now.

joel stills.

then he’s kissing you again slow and deep and grateful, like those words undid something in him.

“i love you too,” he says against your mouth. “so goddamn much it hurts.”

you smile, your chest full. warm and aching all at once.

“i like when you get like this.”

he grunts and shifts slightly beneath you.

“you’re lucky i’m too fuckin’ tired, or i’d show you how serious i am.”

you smirk, nuzzling your face into his neck. “you already did.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, finally softening again. the tension eases back into warmth. his lips brush your temple.

“i’ll move the picture,” he says after a moment. “somewhere safer. closer. ain’t riskin’ it.”

“where?” you whisper.

he thinks for a beat, then grins into your hair. “under my pillow. that way if i wake up, i can still see you ridin’ me.”

you groan and slap his chest, laughing.

“joel!”

he just grins harder. smug now. arms tight around you.

“told you—you’re mine.”

you lean up to kiss him. slow. sweet. steady.

joel hums, satisfied. he tucks you back against him like he’s anchoring you there for good.

then he pulls the blanket back up over both of you and kisses your shoulder. like the subject’s settled.

because it is.

it’s you. it’s him.

#perfect #😌#joel miller x reader #fic #fic rec

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