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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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good LORD-

"Meanwhile, entirely composed and with zero hint of self-consciousness, Nathan reaches - tantalisingly slowly - to unzip his pants. He frees his arousal, emitting a soft, resonant moan from his plush, parted lips as he grips himself, palm wrapping his veined, throbbing shaft. He then directs the gleaming, flushed head of him toward you, as though in offering. There’s a crude romance in it, somehow - like the most vulgar fucking bouquet you’ve ever received."

ur writing is always amazing but THIS waaa~

Efficiency: Nathan Bateman x fem!reader blurb

Summary: (PWP, scenario based) Nathan challenges you to get all of your tasks done in 5 minutes, and apparently, his erection forms a central part of your duties.

A/n: essentially a super quick, roughly written, smutty blurb I couldn’t be bothered to turn into a full-blown one-shot.

Rating: 18+ explicit

Warnings: smut, boss/employee, blow job, risk of being caught, slight exhibitionism kink if you squint, not exactly public place but sorta.

“Very efficient. But you’d better get moving, sweet cheeks. You’ve only got five minutes,” Nathan states matter-of-factly. Despite his neutral tone, when your eyes tick to him you find amusement glinting in his earth-dark eyes.

You conclude shuffling your files, arranging them out on the desk before you. What does he mean? Your eyes sweep the conference room, all set-up for the imminent meeting. Everything’s already done, in plenty of time too. “Five minutes for what?”

“To make me cum, honey.”

Alright. Well you weren’t expecting that. Especially not after you fucked him in the shower this morning.

You’d admonish him for being a horndog (at all the most inconvenient moments too), but still… as a rolling heat immediately prickles your skin, penetrates you right to your middle, your gaze drops to the tenting bulge at Nathan’s crotch.

Ah. You see that there is, in fact, one remaining thing begging you take care of it. That hard, swollen erection of his. And, even as he grows, full and thick in his pants, Nathan’s palm waves dismissively through the air, still managing to layer on the snark. “Well, technically, you have as long as you want to make me cum. But, you do only have five minutes before the board arrives and finds you with my cock in your mouth. So, I’d say it’s in your best interests to be speedy, kitten.”

His lust-blown eyes are glinting, gaze dark as obsidian, and an abominable smirk blooms from beneath the thick raven brush of his beard. Slowly, deliberately, Nathan spreads his pleasingly meaty thighs wider, until the seams of his pants strain and creak. He swivels - smugly, gently- from side to side in his office chair, an expression equal parts hot and dorky on his face. His bared forearms are laid casually out on the arm rests, fingers curled around the lip, and he nods down - to the spot on the floor he expects you to already be kneeling in.

You lick your lips.

“Tick tock, Princess.”

“Nathan!” you protest perfunctorily, even as your words feel at odds with the thril already snaking its way through your body. A buzzy excitement. A heady throb. A feeling which you want to chase.

You can’t help but glance towards the door then; and, the feeling that you could be caught - even in the hypothetical of what he’s suggested, never mind the act - makes your legs quake.

Meanwhile, entirely composed and with zero hint of self-consciousness, Nathan reaches - tantalisingly slowly - to unzip his pants. He frees his arousal, emitting a soft, resonant moan from his plush, parted lips as he grips himself, palm wrapping his veined, throbbing shaft. He then directs the gleaming, flushed head of him toward you, as though in offering. There’s a crude romance in it, somehow - like the most vulgar fucking bouquet you’ve ever received.

Hell though, that’s a hard offer to resist.

Still, this is crazy, right? Sucking him off and taking his load when the board are dangerously close to arriving?

When you speak again, your voice is breathy and urgent, shaking your chest apart. How quickly you are coming undone. Can you relieve him just as speedily? “Do you really want the Board to catch you with your pretty dick in your hand, Bateman?”

Slowly, ever so deliberately, he pumps himself into the circle of his palm, bucking his hips up to meet the sensation, his eyelashes fluttering sweetly with pleasure, and in total contrast to the sordid image before you. “They’ve seen worse. Don’t you remember the figures from quarter four?” He offers you a lopsided flash of teeth, but you are unamused by his attempt at humour. Instead, you are lost imagining -recalling- the moreish taste of him. “Besides, do you really want to spend your remaining 4 minutes 30 arguing, honey? Wouldn’t your rather wrap your lips around this?”

Your core is molten now, and you feel like your desire could collapse you to your knees at any moment regardless. Perhaps that will happen, and Nathan will simply scoot his wheeled chair over to you, pushing himself past your lips.

Still, holding out, despite that the clock is ticking on his proposition, you lock eyes with him for a moment. His gaze is dark and alluring and full of challenge, looking up at you from beneath his silver frames.

You flash that challenge right back.

You lick your lips, your tongue referencing the swirl you will apply to the head of him, and Nathan’s attention is rapt on your mouth.

Your gaze drops to his pumped, gleaming cock, that pearl of precum begging to be tongued from him, to be tasted. And, of course, you know exactly what you’re about to do. The opportunity - Nathan - is far too tempting to pass up.

Besides, you can’t resist the opportunity to show him you’re up to the challenge.

Moving urgently, time slipping by quickly, you feel the friction of the rough carpet burn against your knees as you settle hastily in position, the weight of Nathan’s hand coming to lazily rest on the top of your head.

“Atta girl,” he purrs, and you get to work, gripping the base of him in the circle of your hand. Swiping your tongue and slipping your lips down the shaft of him until you drive him back and into your throat.

Duties like this? Well, they have become commonplace for you in the past few months. And, whilst it’s definitely not in the job description, as your lips and tongue fold insistently around him and Nathan emits a beautiful, stuttered, awed groan… you can’t say that you mind going the extra mile to satisfy him.

“Three minutes, honey,” Nathan warns darkly.

That’s okay.

You’re nothing if not efficient. And, confident in your abilities, you can’t help but tease. You ease his cock from your mouth long enough to mumble “I only need two, Bateman.”

From the way Nathan throbs beneath your hand, his hips bucking to chase your mouth and his hands white-knuckling against the arms of the chair, you know you’re not wrong.

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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oh also, new chapter for my nathan bateman fic is out

#m.txt #nathan bateman fic #(he love me) he give me all his money

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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to everyone leaving replies on my posts, i'm so sorry if i don't reply back i'm not ignoring u on purpose i swear TuT

when i first created this blog to write, i did it from my main account, which means this is a secondary blog, and tumblr only lets me reply using my primary one and i don't wanna expose myself on here so

ik i could just make a separate account and move this blog to that one but it's too much work and just eh. im too lazy for all that

#m.txt

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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(he love me) he give me all his money I Part 4 [18+]

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Series Masterlist

summary: A brief interaction with a catfish on a sugar daddy website leads to something quite unexpected and suddenly you’re on the radar of genius tech billionaire Nathan Bateman, and honestly, you don’t mind the attention.

chapter warnings: descriptions of masturbation, reader finally calling Nathan Bateman daddy in a sexual setting, stuff like that.

a/n: dude idek.

also just a note about the texts in this fic

> Texts like these are from Nathan. [bold and italicized]

> texts like these are from you [italicized]

You had some idea of what to expect when you'd asked Bateman to watch you while you tried on the clothes he'd bought for you, but the whole night played out a little differently.

In a really good way.

After you'd asked him if he wanted to watch you, he'd moved to a different room, his bedroom, and sat propped up against the headboard of his bed as he watched you try on different outfits, and he didn't say anything when you moved out of your phone's view to change instead of getting butt-naked in front of him. Because as much as you would have liked to do just that, you wanted to make him wait. You wanted to take your time, rile him up a little.

You slipped into one of the midi dresses that were in the pile, one with lace-up ties and long slits along both sides. You'd abandoned your underwear a while ago (you weren't going to get naked for Bateman just yet, but that didn't mean you didn't want to tease him a little), so it was pretty revealing. You step back into your phone's view, the ring light behind it now switched on and shining on you.

"Well, what do you think?" you ask Nathan, twirling in place to give him a better look.

You'd already modeled quite a few outfits for him already, and he'd had mixed reactions, ranging from just humming and telling you you looked good (which meant he liked the outfit), to just groaning out curses and telling you how gorgeous you looked (which meant he loved it). The latter reaction was always targeted towards the more revealing outfits he'd gotten which made you think about whether or not you should maybe send him posts of lingerie for him to buy next.

"You should loosen up those ties for the slits," Nathan says before taking a long sip from his beer that he'd gotten at some point. "Give the people what they want."

You giggle. "And what is it that the people want?"

"To see more of your gorgeous legs."

Nathan's slurring his words a little, his head slumped against the edge of the headboard as he watches you. You stare right back at him as you slowly loosen the lace-up ties that hold the thigh-high slits close, watching his nostrils flare as you slide your hand up your thigh, your fingertips dipping slightly into the gap of the slits.

"Like what you see?"

"Yes-"

---

Nathan Bateman was a little drunk. He was also very hard. It was borderline painful.

He watched as you teased him through his phone screen, and he wished he'd had the foresight to do this video call on his laptop, or maybe he should've installed projector screens inside his bedroom (he'd installed disco lights and panels for fucks sake, but not a projector screen, not a large TV-) because watching you on the tiny phone screen wasn't enough. He needed to see you in 4K on a giant flat screen so he'd be able to see every inch of you with perfect clarity.

Or maybe he just needed to see you in person, that'd be even better.

He'd watched you try on some crop tops and cute pants and skirts and tight little dresses, each outfit getting increasingly revealing, and all he wanted to do was tear those clothes off of you and have his way with you.

He watched as you trailed your fingers up and down your thigh, and he's pretty fucking sure you have no idea how much of an effect you have on him right now, your body a mix of soft curves and sharp lines that had him gripping his phone tight and clenching his other hand in his sheets, fighting back the urge to just shove his hand down his pants and jerk himself off to the sight of you in that dress, silky smooth and thin, your hard nipples prominent against the fabric, and the high slits on both sides, showing off your legs and a little bit of your hips, and if you just moved your hand, just a little bit he could-

"I'm going to try on the last dress for tonight, gonna show the rest to you slowly in batches to keep you interested," you chuckle, and Nathan takes a deep breath to try and calm down. This was embarrassing, him losing his mind like this. It was probably the alcohol.

He looks at you humming as you move out of frame and he takes a moment to reach down and squeeze his balls for some sort of relief.

Nathan wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd thought of fucking you. You were beautiful and he was a healthy man with quite a big sexual appetite and a good set of eyes. When you first appeared on his radar, he had merely acknowledged that you were pretty, and you were funny, but eventually, as he got to know you, he found himself stalking your socials, unable to stop himself from going through your pictures, and it wasn't long before he'd become obsessed with you, wanting to get close to you, make you his.

And yeah, he'd definitely jerked himself of to pictures of you. His favorite one was of you laying in bed with a cigarette in your mouth and a lighter in your hand, wearing just a tight little crop top and underwear. He imagines sliding into the bed with you, sharing the cigarette in between deep kisses while roughly grabbing at each other. He imagines running his hands all over your body, imagines what sounds you might make, what your skin might feel like, what it might taste like.

He imagines eating you out until all you can do is cry and squirm under him.

Nathan is so lost in his fantasies that he doesn't notice you're back in frame until you clear your throat, and the sight that greets him has him quickly shoving his hand into his sweatpants and squeezing his erection to keep from cumming.

"Fuck- kitten," he groans out, but that's all he says; he doesn't know what to say when he's got a gorgeous woman like you to look at, doesn't even know if he can form coherent speech anymore.

He really wishes he could reach through the screen and pull you towards him.

---

You'd really meant it when you'd told him you'd be trying on the last dress for tonight, but just as you'd moved out of view to change into the last dress, your eyes flicked back to your phone when you saw a slight movement on screen.

Nathan Bateman had very clearly moved his free hand downwards , and you watched as his arm muscles flexed a little and his head dropped back to the edge of the headboard, baring his throat.

You wish you could just reach out to him and touch him, have him touch you.

You really did plan to wear another dress to show him, but seeing him like this just made you want to tease him even more. You mind goes back to this morning, and you want to try something, something that could possibly change everything about your relationship with Nathan.

You walk back towards your phone in nothing but your underwear with your arms crossed over your bare breasts, covering them as much as you could. You sit on the edge of your bed with one leg crossed over the other, wondering if you could actually pull this off.

You watch Nathan on your screen and he's still looking up at the ceiling, his free hand now absentmindedly rubbing at his shoulder under his tank top. He seems lost in his thoughts, so you clear your throat to get his attention.

His reaction to seeing you sends tingles up your spine.

You hear a sharp inhale. "Fuck- kitten," he says, with a hungry look in his eyes.

You try not to react when you see his hand move back down. Is he hard? Is he palming at his erection? Maybe he's stroking himself? You wonder what his dick might look like (you bet he's big, thick even), you wonder what it might feel like in your hands, what it might taste like...

"Wanted to do something nice for you. For all the money and the gifts." You weren't lying. You wanted to show him how much you liked his attention, and he was clearly into it, into you.

Nathan curses, and it seems like he's given up on controlling himself because you can clearly tell he's jerking off now, and the visual confirmation of his attraction to you is exhilarating. Your own arousal is evident when you squeeze your thighs together, feeling a wet stickiness in your underwear.

"Spread your legs for me baby," Nathan groans out, and fuck, if he spoke to you like that? You'd do anything for the man.

You slowly spread your legs wide, keeping your toes planted on the soft carpet under your bed, one hand snaking down your body to splay over your stomach while the other stayed close to your chest, arm still covering you. Your pussy throbs, clenching rhythmically around nothing.

You slowly dip your fingers into the waistband of your underwear, legs shaking in anticipation. On your phone, you hear rustling as Nathan repositions himself in his bed. He props his phone up against something before making quick work taking off his tank top and laying back down, half propped up against some pillows. You only see his upper body like this, all toned muscles, gleaming in the dim light of his bedroom. One of his arms lays relaxed beside him while the other flexes ever so slightly, moving up and down, up and down, and you wish you could see his hand that was definitely stroking his dick, slow and steady from the looks of it, but the way his phone was angled, it had effectively cut off his lower half from the camera's view.

"Nathan," you whimper quietly as you lightly swirl your fingers over your clit through your underwear, feeling it stiffen. You were getting wetter by the second, fabric sticking to you as you rub slow circles against the seam of your cunt through your underwear.

"Yeah, that's it baby, keep going," Nathan whispers, and his arm is moving a little faster now, you can almost hear a faint wet sound from his end of the call. His voice had your own hand moving faster, applying more pressure against your clit. You let out a whine, the sensation of more wetness gushing out of you and staining your underwear making your toes curl.

"Fuck- I want to cum so bad- Nathan, please-" you cry out, hips bucking forward, barely able to stay upright. You don't know how you managed to keep your arm tight against your breasts still, covering them, and for what?

Right, you had a plan. You had to stick to the plan.

What was the plan again?

Nathan lets out a guttural moan, and the sound of his hand against his cock gets louder, stroking like his life depended on it. "Yeah? I'm close too," he said through harsh pants. "C'mon, want to see you make a mess kitten."

It's hard not to lose yourself to this moment, to just let him take over and talk you through your impending orgasm, but you want to see him lose control, and you might have an idea on how to get him there faster, so you slowly move your fingers away from where they'd been rubbing against your clit, ignoring the way your pussy clenches, ignoring the increasing need for release.

You breathe in slowly. "I want to be good for you...," you whisper, fingers moving to peel your sticky underwear away from your wet lips and push them to the side, finally showing Nathan how fucking bad you wanted him. "I'd be so good for you daddy."

It gets quiet for a bit, the only sounds you hear are from the blood pounding in your ears as you easily slipped two fingers into your sopping cunt,and the obscene wet sounds that echo around you as you pump those fingers in and out, and it's all so loud in your ears you almost miss the sound of Nathan's voice, smooth and low.

"I know you would be baby."

Your eyes flutter close as you throw your head back, letting out a choked out moan as his words wash over you. Your fingers move faster inside you, and your mind is torn between wanting to chase your orgasm and watching Nathan. You can make out some of the words he's saying, the praises that come through your phone speaker, ones you wished were whispered in your ears instead.

"Look at you, so fucking pretty- fucking hell- such a good girl for me, you're gonna cum aren't you? Yeah, that's it."

You pump your fingers inside you, hurtling towards the edge. Tears build up in the corner of your eyes and you grit your teeth, the muscles in your legs spasming as you continue to finger yourself.

"Daddy-" you whine, and you can hear how needy you sound, and god, this is so new for you, all of this is. Nathan Bateman, his attention on you, his desire for you, your ever-growing desire for him.

"Cum for me, kitten, cum for daddy-"

That does it.

"Oh fuck-" you cry out, and the arm that had been wrapped around you falls back, your hand now planted behind you to support you from the force of the orgasm that was ripping through you, making your hips buck wildly as your pussy clenched around your fingers. You repeat Nathan's name like a mantra, over and over, your vision whiting out and you're certain you have some sort of out-of-body experience because you've never come this hard from just your fingers alone.

It takes some time for you to come down from your high, but you eventually flop backwards onto your bed, your fingers still inside you. You hear harsh breathing from your phone, and you assume Nathan was also winding down from his own orgasm, and you only get a little upset that you hadn't been able to watch him as he came.

The two of you lay motionless in your respective beds, minds buzzing and chests heaving as you bask in the afterglow of your shared orgasm.

---

Post-nut clarity comes crashing down an hour later, after you mumble out a rushed goodbye and hang up on Nathan hurriedly, not even bothering to wait for him to respond.

You lay in bed, feeling the sweat on your body cooling, and you should take a shower soon but you can't move, can't even feel your legs.

You'd called Nathan daddy while fucking yourself on your fingers. While he watched. And you'd liked it.

Nathan had liked it too, for sure. You'd caught a glimpse of his body before you'd hung up on him, you'd seen the result of his orgasm, spurts of thick cum all over his stomach.

You turn to your side and curl up into fetal position, squeezing your eyes shut as you take in labored breaths. Your phone pings, and you know it's Nathan, but you're too embarrassed to even think about him right now.

Times like this, the best solution was to keep your mind busy with something else, so you carefully get out of bed to take a nice cold shower before getting to work on organizing your closet. You had a bunch of new clothes to put away. You take your time to carefully hang up the dresses, taking extra care with folding them up instead of just hanging them up by the sleeves to avoid any stretching. And once you're done with that, you go about cleaning your entire apartment, cleaning every single nook and cranny, all while ignoring the incessant ringing and beeping of your phone.

Eventually though, when there's nothing left to do, curiosity gets the better of you and you end up going through your phone, and indeed, there's a couple of missed calls and texts from Nathan, asking you if you were okay, asking why you hung up all of a sudden.

> Embarrassed about calling me daddy?

> You don't have to be, you know.

And that's the thing, isn't it? You knew you didn't have to be, and it's not like Nathan had hated it either, in fact he'd encouraged it if you remember correctly. Still doesn't make you feel any less self-conscious about it. Jokingly calling someone daddy on the internet was different from literally screaming it while fingering yourself to the sound of their voice while they watched.

Your phone pings again.

> Talk to me sweetheart.

> i can't believe i did that

> Honestly, it did surprise me a little.

> Did you like it? Calling me daddy?

You bite your thumb as you stare at the text, wondering if you should just lie and say you were joking around. He would most probably see right through you, so maybe not.

> ...yes

> You want me to be your daddy sweetheart?

> fuck

>Answer the question.

> ohfuvk

> um, yes. yes i want it. fuck

> Good girl.

You've received $10,000.00 from Nathan Bateman

"Daddy's got you."

taglist ♥ : @queen-of-elves @not-two-shrimp @peaches-roses-sins @zhonglis-wine @tctscs @distinguishedfilipina @lovely-cryptid @nolita-fairytale @outmodead @supernovasblogstuff

(dm to be added or removed from taglist)

i'm gonna be honest, i didn't even plan for this chapter to play out the way it did, just like reader had no idea lol . let me know what y'all think, i love reading ur reactions

#m writes #(he love me) he give me all his money #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman fic #nathan bateman au fic #(hlm) hgmahm

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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Oscar Isaac about Pedro Pascal. For Esquire

#oscar isaac and pedro pascal #god i love them #literally me and who 😔

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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May I please be added to the taglist of 'he love me (he give me all his money)' Nathan Bateman? Pretty please?

of course!

i'm still writing the next chapter so for anyone else who wants to be added to the series taglist to get tagged on all future updates feel free to reply to this !

#m answers

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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reblogging since some of y'all missed it-

y'all.. ch. 4 of my nathan bateman fic is WILD just saying, and i'm not even done writing it. who wants a preview?

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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fuck it, here ya go

Nathan lets out a guttural moan, and the sound of his hand against his cock get louder, stroking like his life depended on it. "Yeah? I'm close too," he said through harsh pants. "C'mon, want to see you make a mess kitten."

im hyping myself too much, watch this chapter be mid-

y'all.. ch. 4 of my nathan bateman fic is WILD just saying, and i'm not even done writing it. who wants a preview?

#m writes #(he love me) he give me all his money #(hlm) hgmahm #nathan bateman au fic #fic snippet #nathan bateman smut

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

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don't think we could help it (joel miller x reader) 18+

here it is!!! the much anticipated sequel to "you know i don't mean it" aka the soft!dom joel fic that somehow hit 1k in like 3 days???? truly wild. i listened to what you guys had to say and decided to turn this into a little series/collection. the timeline won't necessarily always be linear but i'd really like to explore these two a bit more. i hope you enjoy! btw, i now have a tag list so if you'd like to be notified when i update this series/post fic in general, interact with that post! summary: joel has a new idea he'd like to share with you (and you're more than willing to try it out). rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink galore, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), fingering, lap sitting, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, clothed male and unclothed female, uhhh if i forgot something pls lmk word count: 4.1k | ao3

This is new. Beyond new, it's insane. He's got you laid completely bare on his lap, legs wide, the palms of his hands pressed flush against your inner thighs as he holds you open. The cold air is a relief against the heat, not only for your core but for your mind as you try to keep your thoughts clear despite them becoming more and more muddled the longer he holds you like this.

Since your outburst the last time you'd decided you wouldn't bring it up again, not until he brought it up himself. You'd decided you could deal with it; you didn't really need him to fuck you, it was just one of the many desires you'd have to push away and forget about. Clearly his boundaries went deeper than you'd thought, but he'd said he wanted you and that was enough. Whatever the reason for holding back, for not allowing himself to actually touch you, you could deal with not knowing.

But then tonight happened.

It's been one week since your last patrol with him, the patrol where he confirmed his desire for you, and you'd been expecting the usual routine as you situated yourself on the couch. He'd slowly approached you, expression unreadable.

"I wanna try something different," he'd said quietly.

You'd scrambled to sit up, eyes shining with interest as you perched yourself on the arm of the couch, "Yeah?"

He took one more step and then he was directly in front of you, standing tall and broad while you sat there feeling small and vulnerable, unsure what he was thinking. Slowly, carefully, he brought one of his hands up and traced your jawline with his fingertips, making you tremble. It was the first time he'd actually touched your face, the first time he'd allowed his skin to brush against yours apart from when his fingers had slid inside your mouth last time. It was heaven.

You'd closed your eyes involuntarily and leaned into his touch, practically purring at the feeling. You heard his breath hitch, the back of his fingers stroking your cheek as his thumb found a place at your mouth, tracing the shape of your lips. Without much thought you'd opened it, inviting him to slip his thumb inside. He'd exhaled deeply and you'd opened your eyes again to watch the cogs turn in his head, watch him decide what you deserved and what you didn't.

To your disappointment he didn't slide his thumb inside your mouth; instead, he pulled his hand completely away from you. You whined at the loss, shoulders falling as you peered up at him pathetically.

"Joel," you whispered, but your words ended there; you didn't know what to say, didn't know if any sort of protest would end whatever he'd decided would be different tonight altogether.

He just shook his head and stepped away from you, sitting on his end of the couch. He didn't put his feet up or lean back like usual, he sat on the edge of the third cushion and began to palm himself through his jeans. You watched with aroused interest, biting your lip as you gazed at the long shape of his cock, hard and firm.

You still weren't sure what he was thinking but you stayed frozen where you were, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"I was thinking," he finally broke the silence, not looking at you as he thumbed the wet head through the denim, a small dark spot appearing in the fabric, "That you could sit in my lap tonight."

The rules are as follows:

touch yourself the way he tells you to.

stop touching yourself when he tells you to stop.

come only when he tells you that you can.

he will not be touching you.

You shiver in his lap now, looking at yourself leaking down your legs and soaking his jeans. God, you'd had no idea you were this touch starved; just the feeling of him beneath you, his fingers splayed firmly against your thighs, you think you could come without even touching yourself. But those aren't the rules.

"One finger," he breathes, tickling the side of your neck where he's resting his head, watching, "Nice and deep, lemme see."

You obey, bringing your shaky hand to your centre and pushing your middle finger inside to the hilt, exhaling deeply and trying your hardest to avoid even brushing against your clit for fear you might start to come already.

He hums in approval, breath hot against your skin, "Now pull it out," he murmurs, "Real slow, show me."

You slowly remove your finger, biting down on your lip. It comes out drenched and shiny, slick with your wetness.

"And back in," his voice is like honey, slow and sweet. You push your finger back inside, "And out again, just like that. Good girl."

You moan at your pet name; it's the first time he's used it tonight and you've been waiting to hear him say it. It's hard to believe how easy it is for some simple words to make you completely submit to him, hard to believe how badly you want to be good for him, to do exactly what he tells you. Earlier today you'd given him shit for forgetting to put the safety on your gun when he'd handed it to you. That version of yourself doesn't exist here.

"In and out," he whispers, sending waves of tingles up and down your spine, "Count to ten for me."

"One," you begin to count your slow thrusts, voice shaky and breathless, "T-two."

He flexes his hands on your thighs, curling his fingers into the flesh. For someone who's never actually touched you before up until this point, he's sure getting his fill now; you'll have marks tomorrow, impressions of hand prints where he held you open. The thought makes you throb.

"Nine," you whimper, fucking yourself once more, "Ten."

"Good girl," he praises again, nosing your shoulder gently.

The room feels stuffy despite being so large and open, and your whole body feels like it's on fire. You can feel the tension building in your lower belly; how the fuck are you so close already? You've never been able to get off this easily and now you feel like you could break at any second, directly contradicting one of the rules.

"Can I take my shirt off?" you ask quietly, hoping you're not crossing a line, "I'm really warm."

He chuckles, "You just wanna be naked on my lap."

"...Maybe."

"Add your second finger and I'll think about it," he murmurs against your neck, "Show me you can be good."

You swallow, nodding and slowly slipping another finger inside.

"You're so wet," he says, a genuinely awestruck air in his voice, "All this from just sittin' in my lap?"

They're not just words, he means them. He's questioning himself, questioning whether he's really capable of making you fall apart like this. And he is; you can't believe he doesn't see what you see, doesn't see how sexy and alluring he is, how he doesn't even have to touch you to give you an orgasm.

"Yes," you moan softly, leaning your head back and feeling his nose against your throat, "Feels so good, Joel, you have no idea," you plunge your fingers in and out, closing your eyes and shivering at the way his cock throbs beneath you, "I love feeling you."

"I know you do," he whispers, "Been thinkin' about it all week, wanted to give you somethin' more, you deserve it."

"I do?" the thought makes you smile; it pleases you that he thinks you deserve this, that he thought about it and wanted to do it for you.

God, you really are fucked.

"You do," his fingers stroke your inner thighs gently, tickling your skin, the tips of his thumbs brushing lightly against your outer lips. "Plus, I wanted to see this pretty little pussy a bit closer," his breath is so hot and wet against your skin, making your whole body shake as you continue to fuck yourself, "And now you can feel my cock, can't you? Just like you wanted, but without breakin' the rules."

You make the rules, you want to say, squeezing your eyes shut tighter, you can change them. You could fuck me right now if you wanted to. But you don't say anything, knowing deep down that asking for it again won't get you anywhere. This is a part of it now, a new factor in this thing between the two of you, and you know he'll hold it over you to keep the control on his side. You have to admit, he knows what he's doing.

"Third finger, pretty girl," he whispers and you do as you're told, adding your third and clenching tightly around all three digits, "Look at that, so full for me."

His cock throbs again, heavy and thick against your ass, and you keen at the fact that this is just as hot for him as it is for you. He's not doing this for your benefit, he genuinely enjoys it. He wants you.

"Thumb on your clit," he breathes, and your eyes open again, wide and unsure.

"I'll come," you whimper, feeling slightly ashamed at your admission, "If I touch my clit I already know I'm gonna come."

He smiles against your skin, "Really? From just a little touch?"

"Y-yes."

"So if I..." he trails off and suddenly removes his right hand from your thigh, moving it closer to where you're open and full.

"Oh my God," you breathe, voice barely a squeak, "Yes, yes, please touch it, please."

"Where? Where do you need me to touch?"

"Joel," you groan, shutting your eyes again and trembling in his lap.

"Use your words, pretty girl, tell me where you need me to touch you."

"My clit," you practically hiss, "Touch my clit, please."

You've stopped moving your fingers entirely, laying still inside of you, keeping you wide. He doesn't admonish you, just twirls his index finger teasingly near your pussy and smiles against your neck.

"But that's against the rules," he murmurs.

"Fuck the rules," you practically growl.

You regret it instantly, watching as his hand returns to your thigh and you hear him laugh lightly in your ear. Scowling, you let out a long groan of contempt and pull your fingers out, leaning back against his chest pitifully. The buttons on his shirt dig into your flesh, reminding you that he's still fully clothed. It somehow makes you wetter.

"For someone who claims to be my good girl, you're not being very good tonight, are you?"

"I am," you pout, "I told you, I'm just really oveheated."

"Poor baby," he whispers, and you watch his hands lift from your thighs to tug at the hem of your shirt, "Let's take this off, then. Arms up."

You oblige, lifting up your arms and allowing him to pull your shirt over your head. He freezes for a moment, the material bunching in his hand as he makes a fist.

"You didn't wear a bra?" it's barely audible and you smirk.

"No, I don't wear one when I'm on patrol with you."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Christ," he tosses the shirt to the floor and places his hands back on your inner thighs, pulling your legs apart more than they already are and pressing the thick length of his cock deeper against you. "You know, good girls don't do shit like that."

"Then maybe you need to punish me," you challenge, half joking but also not, wondering if maybe he'll finally give you what you want.

"Maybe I do," he mutters, "Fingers. Back in. Now."

You obey, pushing your fingers back inside and waiting for his next order, the tension of your orgasm still building in your belly. What is he gonna do? For a moment you're fearful that he'll stop touching you, leave you there to get yourself off without a second glance. You start to fuck yourself again, biting down on your lip and doing everything you can not to stimulate your clit.

His hands move again and you gasp in shock as he brings them to your bare breasts, cupping them in his palms. You lean back further into his touch, basking in the way his strong and wide torso envelops yours, holds you firm as you shove your fingers in and out.

"Well, aren't these pretty?" he croons in your ear, thumbing your nipples lightly, "Knew they would be."

The fact that he's thought about what your breasts look like makes your skin flush even warmer as you squirm in his lap, feeling small and breakable in his embrace. He rotates your nipples with his fingers, humming softly to himself in satisfaction. You continue to fuck yourself as you await your potential punishment...whatever it might be.

"You wanna come, don't you, baby?" he asks you softly, and you nod frantically, pathetically, "But do you think you deserve to come?"

You hesitate, brow furrowing, "P-probably not."

He laughs again, genuine and warm, "At least you're honest."

He lets go of your breasts and palms your stomach, the width of his hands giving you butterflies. He gently traces your belly button, your pubic bone, watching goosebumps rise on your flesh as he trails his fingertips along your skin.

"So pretty," he murmurs, hand dipping to your mound, the tips of his fingers only inches away from your clit, "Jesus, you're swollen."

You bite down on your lip, trying not to make any embarrassingly pathetic sounds; you can practically feel his eyes on your cunt and it makes you want to scream.

"Take your fingers out," he whispers, and you obey, hand shaking.

"You're gonna punish me, aren't you?" you finally whisper.

You feel him shake his head, "Not tonight, pretty girl," he inhales deeply, nosing your hair and gently stroking the skin just above your pussy with his thumb. "I think it's time I finally broke a rule."

Your heart races at his words, eyes widening. You're about to ask him what he means when he suddenly takes both your hands in his and brings them to your thighs, placing them gently down on your warm flesh. He keeps his left hand over yours, enveloping it as his right hand moves downward. Your eyes widen even more, watching as his big hand stills right in front of where you're wet and aching.

"You say it'll just take one touch, did you mean that?" he asks quietly.

"Y-yeah," you whimper, and you're not lying.

You watch with bated breath as he extends his fingers and gently prods your clit with the pad of his index. Just as you knew you would, you tense in his arms and let out a ridiculously loud moan, clenching around nothing as you start to come, body twitching wildly atop his lap. You feel his gaze on your face, watching as the smallest possible touch from him sends you into an absolute frenzy.

"Oh fuck," you cry, tilting your head back against his shoulder, feeling his beard scratch roughly against your cheek, "Joel, Joel, Joel," you repeat his name over and over until it's done, leaving you laying there motionless in his lap, limbs heavy and loose, his finger still sitting tenderly on your clit without movement. You feel your eyes close, head still firm on his shoulder as you breathe deeply in and out.

You lay there in his lap, legs still wide as your belly rises and falls from exertion. His finger rubs your clit once, just once, a soothing gesture that makes your hips buck lightly. He pulls it back and gently trails it to your entrance, hesitating for only a moment before he slowly slips it inside of you. You barely register it, still completely undone from your orgasm, body still processing the aftershocks. He doesn't say anything, just pushes his finger further inside until it's fully sheathed in your heat.

"You feel that?" he finally whispers to you, and you nod languidly, humming in affirmation. He keeps his finger inside of you, thick and long, filling you up, "Feel good?"

You hum again, still catching your breath. You swear you feel him smile against your cheek. Slowly, he pushes a second finger inside, and your lips part at the stretch, eyes opening only slightly as both of his fingers still inside you.

"And that? You feel that?"

"Yes," you whisper, slowly bringing yourself to move forward again, looking down to see where you're connected. You watch as he carefully pushes a third finger alongside the other two, your opening burning in the best possible way at the intrusion. His fingers are so thick, so wide, it's almost like you've got five of your own somehow crammed in there. You clench around him, your hand coming up to hold his wrist, small and fragile compared to his.

"Doesn't hurt, does it?" he murmurs when all three fingers are completely enveloped, his beard brushing your cheek again.

"N-no, feels good," you reply immediately, squeezing his wrist lightly, "Feels full."

"I just want to see how much you can take," he says softly, "I need to know your limits."

"I don't have limits with you," you whisper like it's a secret, and you mean it. He could do anything, say anything, and you wouldn't care. You should probably be ashamed of it, but you're not.

"You should," he replies, voice strained, "You know I have my own limits with you." He carefully adjusts you in his lap, turning you slightly to face him, "Look at me," he murmurs.

You turn around, finally seeing his face for the first time since you'd seated yourself in his lap. He's looking at you carefully, brow furrowed, gauging your expression like he's worried you're lying to him. He must be content with whatever he sees there, because you notice the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.

He slowly pulls his fingers from your core and brings them to your lips. "Suck," he orders softly.

You do as you're told, leaning forward and taking all three fingers in your mouth without hesitation, lapping yourself up as he watches. When you've gotten everything, he removes each finger one by one, then thumbs the corner of your mouth.

"Good girl," he breathes, and you smile in response, enjoying his praise. He smiles back and you feel him tap your thigh gently, "Get up for me now, okay?"

"'Kay," you whisper, shakily moving from his lap and bringing yourself to stand up. You turn around then, standing over him completely bare while he leans back on the couch, shuffling his legs open. You look at his crotch, see the outline of his cock, still hard and thick. Your cheeks turn bright red when you see the large wet stain you've left on his jeans.

He follows your gaze, smirking, "Yeah, you made quite the mess, didn't you?"

"Sorry," you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be sorry, pretty girl," he reaches for his zipper and tugs it down, pulling his cock out of the confines of his underwear and slipping it through the denim. You swallow, remembering the feeling of his come on your tongue, the hot salty taste in the back of your throat as you'd swallowed all he had to give you.

"Where do you want me?" you ask quietly, hoping against reason that he'll ask you to get on your knees.

He doesn't, as you'd expected, "Just stand right there," he says, stroking himself firmly and quickly, "Stay still, just like that."

You obey, staying very still and watching him jack himself off, his eyes trailing up and down your body hungrily. After only a moment, he shuffles himself forward and points the head of his cock upward, toward your belly. With one final stroke he grunts, deep and masculine, and you watch as his come paints your bare stomach, thick, white, and warm. You shiver, crossing your legs as your cunt begins to throb again, just like last time.

He finishes and releases himself, falling back on the couch and breathing heavily. He looks up at you from under his lashes, completely wrecked.

"Did I do good?" you ask softly, and you feel yourself grin as he shuts his eyes and tosses his head back with a groan.

"Yes, beyond good," he replies, looking back up at you and wincing slightly, "You're gonna kill me."

You giggle proudly and reach down to drag your fingers through his spend on your stomach, reveling in his eyes on you as you bring it to your mouth and push it against your tongue, swallowing it greedily. He groans shakily, carefully stuffing his dick back into his jeans and zipping himself back up. You scoop another finger of his come into your mouth and he stares at you, eyes dark.

"Might as well come directly in your mouth next time," he mutters, and you nod immediately.

"Yes, please."

His expression changes then, no longer playful or aroused. He stands up and walks over to your discarded clothes, picking them up and handing them to you without saying anything. You take them from him with a frown, watching as he picks up his gun from the chair near the fireplace and slips it back inside its holster.

"Are you mad?" you ask softly, unsure if you've said or done something something to upset him.

"No, I'm not mad," he replies, but the roughness of his voice betrays him, "Get dressed, okay? We've still got a few hours left."

You wordlessly slip back into your underwear and jeans, wiping the rest of his come off your stomach with the back of your hand before you pull your t-shirt back on. You look over to see him shrugging his coat on, facing away from you.

"Did I do something?" you ask, and you hate how weak you sound, how shaky your voice is. In any other circumstance you wouldn't hesitate to challenge him, but somehow after being so exposed to him only moments ago, so open and vulnerable, it's difficult to bring the real you back.

"No, you didn't do anything," he says gruffly, "It's me, I already told you we shouldn't be doing this. Should've ended it last week."

His words hurt, but somehow they don't cut you like he probably means them to. You walk toward him, still frowning, "What's the problem? I thought you liked it."

He doesn't say anything and you reach out to touch his shoulder, making him flinch and turn around to look at you again. Your eyes widen when you see that his are suddenly shiny with tears. Your lips part in surprise and you reach for his arm again, gripping his bicep tightly.

"Joel, what's wrong?" you whisper, "You're crying."

"Leave it," he says quickly, yanking himself from your touch, "I told you, we shouldn't be doing this. We can't do it anymore, this was the last time."

"Where is this coming from?" you're so confused, feeling helpless as he backs away from you, "Five minutes ago you were calling me your good girl and now-"

"You gotta stop letting me call you that," he grimaces, "I need to get ahold of myself, I can't keep letting this happen."

"Letting this happen?" you repeat, feeling anger begin to bubble in your throat as the real you finally begins to surface, "You're the one who asked me to sit in your lap, Joel. You're the one who started this whole thing to begin with."

"And I never shoulda been so weak," he spits, shaking his head, "You're a fucking kid, this is messed up."

You stare at him in disbelief, mouth agape, "I'm a grown ass woman, Joel. You know that better than anyone."

"I'm almost thirty years older than you, I should know better."

"Why are you being like this?" your anger betrays you as you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes, "Why are you being so mean? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Exactly, you didn't. It's me," he repeats, turning away from you again, "I'm gonna tell Tommy not to assign us together anymore, this is over."

"No it's not," you stomp forward and try to grab him again but he's already halfway out the front door of the ski lodge.

"Stay inside," he says firmly, still looking away from you, "Leave me alone." The door slams and you stand there in shock, staring after him through the glass as he walks away from you.

What the fuck.

if you have any requests/ideas you'd like to share for this series or any fic in general, feel free to send me a message! i also have a kofi if you'd like to tip me (entirely optional of course but much appreciated).

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #the sequel??? even better omfg #literally had me shaking crying moaning #m's fic recs

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stevengrant-my-beloved · 1 year

Text

you know i don't mean it (joel miller x reader) 18+

welcome to my 300 follower celebration! \o/ i polled my followers on which character they'd most like to see in some new smut and joel won (not surprised). this was supposed to be a drabble but ended up getting a bit longer than i anticipated, hope you enjoy! summary: you and joel get off together. that's pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he's being closed off. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink (the term 'good girl' is used maybe 432534 times), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (but make it soft), mutual masturbation, come-play, come-eating, this is filthy word count: about 2.5k | ao3 link

"This is the last time," he mutters under his breath, belt buckle jangling as he lays down across from you, "We can't keep doin' this."

"Yeah, yeah," your hand is already buried in your panties, index finger lightly rotating against your clit, "That's what you said last week too."

He grunts and you watch as he slips his hand inside his jeans and palms himself, squaring his shoulders and trying to relax. He pretends he's doing this for your benefit, like its you who needs help getting off, as if he's not a middle aged man who hasn't been touched by a woman in years. And it's not like you haven't offered, you've genuinely tried to give yourself to him more than a few times, but it's simply a line he won't cross.

Other lines, however, are much easier to cross. It had started out relatively innocent, something that had happened completely by chance, or at least you both led yourselves to believe it was. You'd both had the same idea one night and had ended up getting off together in the same room, you in the chair beside the fireplace of the abandoned ski lodge you'd both been posted in, him on the couch.

"Are you -" he'd gasped into the darkness when he'd heard the wet sound of your fingers a few feet away, plunging in and out of yourself at a steady rhythm.

"Like you're not," you'd hissed back, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he'd muttered, hand stilling on his cock where seconds ago he'd been stroking like his life depended on it.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He'd groaned, releasing himself and sitting up to squint at you in the darkness, "So what are you gonna do about it?"

You glared at him, not bothering to remove your hand from your underwear as you continued to finger yourself, breathing deeply, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going. And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

After a few seconds of silence, he'd flopped himself back down on the couch and reached for himself again, fucking into his fist, "No talking," he said through his teeth, "Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you'd replied, and roughly added a third finger as you watched the dark silhouette of him jacking himself off barely six feet away from you.

One night turned into two, turned into five, and now ten. It wasn't every night, only when you were on patrol together. You'd privately asked Tommy to make sure that Joel was your patrol partner as often as possible, because you felt "safer" with him... you're not sure if he'd really believed you.

You're back in the ski lodge again tonight, both of you situated on the couch in your usual positions, on opposite ends and facing each other. It's ridiculous how quickly it's taken you both to get used to these sessions, the casual feeling of it making it even hotter somehow.

"How many fingers are you using this time?" Joel murmurs, eyeing you where you're touching yourself, unable to fully see what he'd like to.

"Up to you," you breathe, still prodding your clit, "How many do you want me to use?"

"Three," he replies, and you watch as he pulls his cock free from the confines of his jeans, jutting large and solid against his stomach, "Real slow, then real fast."

You nod, lifting your hips up to pull your panties free and expose yourself to him, legs wide.

"Stick to my rhythm," he tells you, watching as you trail your middle finger through your folds, "If I stop, you stop. If I tell you to stop-"

"I stop," you answer for him, throwing him a smug smile, "Same rules as always."

He stares at you without speaking, just waiting. You get the hint and begin to slide your finger inside slowly, making eye contact with him under your lashes and smiling languidly. He fists himself just as slow, looking down at your finger and licking his lips.

"Slow enough for you?" you whisper, adding a second and grinning when his eyes darken, "Should I go a bit faster?"

"Not yet," he whispers, thumbing the head of his cock and fucking into his hand at the same pace as your finger, "Keep it nice and slow for me 'til I say so."

You obey, fucking yourself with your middle and ring finger at the slowest pace you can muster. No matter how annoying his orders are you always do as you're told, not because you're afraid of any sort of consequence, but because you like seeing him enjoy himself, seeing him take control. You've only known him for about six months but you've known for a while that he's been lacking any sort of control in his life for a long time; you're glad to be the one who can give it to him.

"Add your third," he whispers and you oblige, slipping your index inside yourself alongside the others, "Good girl," he breathes, "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

You nod, your smugness immediately starting to fade. When he talks to you like this, praises you, it's impossible to keep your hard exterior up for much longer, feeling yourself submit to him. In any other circumstance you love to challenge him, to argue, but in these moments it's the last thing on your mind. You do as you're told, and that's the end of it. He needs control, you need submission.

"Tell me," he whispers.

"I'm your good girl," you breathe, shivering and continuing to shove your fingers in and out at his pace.

He smirks, "Yeah you are."

You continue to fuck yourself at his painfully slow pace, watching him fist his cock at the same speed. He likes to tease you, to build you up until you're begging for it. You thumb your clit and start to whimper, legs trembling.

"Okay, faster now," he tells you, voice low and sultry, "Not too fast, though. Watch me," he tugs at his cock at a bit quicker of a pace, still much too slow for you but you can't do much else but obey him, mirroring him with the thrust of your fingers, "That's it, like that."

After several more thrusts he suddenly stops stroking himself, stilling in his palm. You groan, halting your movements, following the rules.

"How is it that you follow orders so God damn well when you've got your panties around your ankles?" he asks, voice rough, "Yet when we're actually patrollin' you don't listen to a word I say?"

"I'm not your good girl when we're patrolling," you reply with a teasing smile, "But I could be, you know."

He rolls his eyes, "Enough, it's not happening," he nods to your hand, still motionless at your core, "Play with your clit for a second, give me a chance to breathe."

There it is, the line he won't cross. You've already told him that you're willing to give yourself completely over to him, be exactly who he needs, but no matter how many times you try he just won't budge. It's disappointing, truly, because you really do like him. Sure, he's a bit of an ass, plus he's about thirty years older than you, but you've seen the side of him he doesn't show to others. Maybe only hints, but you've seen it. And you care about him.

"I don't do this with anyone else, you know," you whisper, pressing your index finger against your clit and rubbing small circles into it, "You're the only one I'd let treat me the way you do."

He looks at you curiously, raising an eyebrow, "I treat you good, don't I?"

You nod, whimpering a bit as you rub yourself harder, "You do, but you're the only one I'd ever submit to like this, you know that, right?"

He hums, brushes the wide head of his cock with the tip of his thumb, "I know, baby. But it feels so good, doesn't it? You like being my good girl, don't you?"

You bite down on your lip, core aching as your fingers lay still against your folds, save for the index that continues to furiously stimulate your clit, "I do," you whisper, cheeks warming, "I fucking love it."

"There you go," he murmurs softly, then begins to move his fist again, "Use your fingers again, baby, get your pussy all full for me."

You don't need telling twice, your three fingers plunging deep inside yourself without any hesitation. You whimper when your fingertips brush against your favorite spot, so close yet so far. You eye Joel's cock and try to imagine what it would feel like for it to really be inside you, the fat tip of it pounding relentlessly against the deepest parts of your cunt, his girth stretching you out so much your whole body would be shaking. You feel your mouth drop open involuntarily, brow furrowing.

He follows your gaze and frowns at you, pumping himself a bit faster, "You can't have it," he whispers, like he can read your mind, "I know you want it, pretty girl, but you can't. I'm sorry."

"Why?" you mewl, sounding absolutely pathetic as you keep fucking yourself, "I want it so bad, Joel."

"I know you do," he closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Don't ask me why, you just can't."

You'd pout, tease him a little, but he's not looking at you anymore and it physically makes you ache, the way he avoids any allusion to actual sex, an actual relationship. You've asked him so many times and it's always the same answer, never a real reason. You wish you knew why, wish you knew if there was anything at all you could do to make him open up to you.

Instead you mirror his position, tilting your head back against the arm of the sofa and fucking up into yourself, listening to his labored breathing and the slap of skin whenever his fist hits his belly.

"Fast as you can now, baby," he mutters gruffly, close to the edge, "Need you to come for me, need you to be good."

"I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you whimper, opening your eyes to peer at him again, "I always listen, I never break your rules."

"That's right."

"So why can't you fuck me?" you sit up suddenly, yanking your fingers out of yourself and looking at him angrily. He sits up just as quickly, eyes narrowing as he releases his cock and stares at you, "I'm serious, Joel. I want an actual answer."

"You just broke a rule," he mutters and you sigh exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry for breaking the rules," you genuinely mean it; you know how important this control is for him, but you can't help it, "I'll submit again if you just tell me why you won't fuck me. Do you...do you not want me? Is that it? 'Cause I can accept that, I just want to hear you say it. I'm sick of not knowing."

He stares at you incredulously, hand coming up to squeeze the space between his brow and nose, "Jesus, of course I want you, but it's not that simple."

"Yes it-"

"It's not," he interrupts you, shaking his head, "I can't...this isn't..." he exhales deeply, "This isn't the time for this conversation, okay?" You hear raw emotion in his voice, buried deep but still present. Fuck, you didn't mean to make him feel bad.

"...Okay," you finally whisper, "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "Look, we can stop-"

"No," you lean back and open your legs wide again, putting yourself on display for him, "No, I wanna be your good girl again, please let me."

"We don't-"

"Joel," you whimper, slipping your fingers back inside, "Let me be your good girl."

His hard expression fades, eyes softening as he peers at you, watching you fuck himself for him.

"It's all yours, even if you won't touch me," you whisper, using your other hand to pull yourself open for him, showing him how full you are, feeling your orgasm start to build in your tummy, "It's yours," you repeat, whimpering.

He nods, stroking himself again hard and fast, brow furrowing in pleasure as he keeps his eyes trained on you, "That's right," he murmurs, "It's mine. You're mine."

You close your eyes tight, "I'm gonna come."

"Go ahead, pretty girl," you hear him groan, the snap of his wrist making you completely come undone, "Squeeze around those fingers, pretend they're mine, okay? You can do that, you can pretend."

You shudder at his words and feel your orgasm overtake you, the image of Joel's thick fingers pounding into you enough to send you over the edge. You moan loudly, crying out his name and tossing your head back as you come.

"Good girl," he groans, voice strangled, "Such a good fucking girl for me."

You close your eyes as you ride out the waves of your release, fingers still pumping gently inside of you until it's too much and you pull them out. Sighing contentedly, you open your eyes again and watch Joel relentlessly fuck into his fist, belt buckle still jangling against the couch as he gasps. You want nothing more than to reach forward and take him in your own hand, help him ride out his own release, but you don't. Because those are the rules.

Instead you just watch him, smile at him as he shuts his eyes tight and groans deeply, coming into his fist. You watch the thick white liquid cover the sides of his fingers and you involuntarily salivate, jaw going slack.

"Fuck," you breathe, "Wish I could taste you."

He groans again, hand stilling as he breathes heavily and starts to come down, eyes closed. You sit quietly, panties still hanging off one of your ankles. You'd usually already be putting your clothes back on at this point, but something tells you to stay still, don't move, he's gonna do something different.

He swallows and looks up at you, stares at you for a few moments. You're unsure whether the regular Joel is about to come back, tell you it's time to go back on patrol, grab your gun and be quiet. Or is this still your Joel, the one who tells you you're pretty and good, makes you feel less alone in this shitty world.

"Here," he says, shaking his head and bringing his come-coated fingers up to your mouth, "If you wanna taste, you have five seconds."

Your mouth pops open in surprise, hesitating only for a second before you lean forward and wrap your lips around his fingers, feeling the salty taste of him flood your mouth. Your cunt begins to throb again, your eyes closing as you suck and lick and take everything he's giving you. When you open your eyes again he's still looking at you, but his expression is soft, tender.

"Good girl," he murmurs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #pussy? throbbing #this is so fucking good literally had me breathless #m's fic recs

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