#delicate

[slow-motionlovepotion]

𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 | 𝒋.𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈:  Joel Miller x f!Reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.6K - this was not meant to be this long, oops.

𝒂/𝒏: I'm feral for Joel Miller and I won't apologise for that. This ended up so much softer than I planned but Joel Miller deserves to be loved, goddmit. part two is already in progress ~ no beta, we die like men

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ - smut, post-apocalypse, pre-Ellie, age gap (mid/late 20s!reader x early 40s!Joel), first time, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it kids), Joel Miller has a big dick, risky creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, manhandling, angst, implications of rape (does not involve reader or Joel), soft!Joel, fluff, idiots in love, innocence kink, Joel Miller is down bad. - minors do not interact.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

Joel had found you cowering in the corner of a store in some godforsaken town somewhere in deep Texas, the twitching body of an infected splayed in front of you. He’d eyed you cautiously, keeping his distance, gun pointed directly at you, not afraid to pull the trigger. 

“No, please, no. I’m okay, I’m fine, not bitten. I promise. Please” you were frantic, begging for your life. 

“Just the one?” He’d asked, voice gruff and dark, he exuded danger. 

You nodded “It was out the back, I checked but I didn’t see it, then it just came out of nowhere”

He nods once “You alone?” 

“Yeah, it’s just me” you hadn’t moved from your spot on the floor, hands raised in surrender, shaking in fear.  

“Christ” the man mutters more to himself than to you, giving you the once over he lowers the gun “C’mon, I’m not leaving you here” 

Your time together was meant to be brief, Joel had planned to find you somewhere safe to stay, people you could live your life with, some sense of normality. Life would never be like it was before the outbreak but maybe he could find you a new version of living. 

It took two months to find the first group of settlers but Joel didn’t even let you near them, he’d checked them out alone, swiftly deciding it wasn’t a safe place for you, he didn’t say why. Another six months until the next group, they initially seemed better but the cries echoing outside the commune at night told Joel all he needed to know. 

It’s been exactly 2 years since he found you in that abandoned store, you’d managed to survive for six months, barely, living in a constant state of fight or flight. And then Joel came, Joel who took a chance on you, who shared his supplies and taught you to survive. Joel, who stood watch and let you sleep despite being exhausted himself, who bandaged your wounds, and made his own life harder just to make yours a little bit easier. 

Joel, who would watch the world burn just to make sure you were safe. 

You could still to this day, pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Joel Miller. You watched the world burn. Well not the world, just a decrepit cabin on the side of a road somewhere in Texas. He'd thought it was safe, he’d checked and double checked, the place was free of infected, or so he thought. The thick knit of your scarf was the first thing that saved your life that night, when the infected had come at you from behind, jumping out of the dark and going for your neck.  Joel hadn’t even hesitated, gun drawn and a bullet in its skull before you could even cry out for help. He’d reached for you, entwining his fingers with yours as he dragged you out of the building, kicking the cap off a gas canister as he went and throwing a lighter behind him as the door had shut. He pushed you ahead of him, protecting your body from the flames licking at the dry timber frame behind him.  

You realised you loved him, were in love with him, laying on the dusty ground, with Joel’s imposing body shielded yours. You felt safe, he was firm behind you, chest heaving with laboured breaths, arms wrapped around you, keeping you close, muttering softly into your ear, “it’s okay, it’s okay, I got ya”.

So by the time you came across the third group you’d become quite the survivor. Joel had taught you to defend yourself, how to shoot a gun, how to actually use a knife, the weak spots of a man. You’d wondered why he was teaching you this, why you needed to know how to break the grasp of hands around your throat, how to use his body weight against him. When you’d stumbled across a group of men, animals really, surrounding a woman on her knees, her sobs echoed in your ears and you’d immediately searched for Joel, hands shaking as you grasped at his arms, eyes wide and terrified, you finally understood.

“They… they. Shit Joel, they were…”  He didn’t need you to finish, he knew what they were doing. Within 20 minutes he had you both packed and on the road. 

You felt like you’d been walking for weeks, in reality it had only been three days but you were exhausted. You were heading East, Joel had heard about a group of women that had settled just across the state border. You trudged slowly behind Joel, the unseasonable heat making you sweat, boots kicking up dust with every step, lost in your own thoughts.

“What’s bugging you?” Joel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts

“We should’ve helped her,” you confessed.  It didn’t sit right, that you just left her there for those men to take what they wanted

“There’s nothing we could’ve done, no guarantee she’d be safe in the next place” he’d explained softly 

“Is that why you’ve not left me?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it.

Joel stops, his eyes meet yours but he doesn’t answer, he can’t, can’t admit that he won’t leave you, can’t admit why he won’t leave you. He can’t admit that he loves you.

Darkness has fallen by the time you reach a safe house, a favour from a friend, he’d said. The house was neat, tidy and clean, if not a bit dusty. Joel clears downstairs first, checks upstairs and calls you up to the bedroom.  A small puff of dust is released from the bed as he drops your bags. One bed. There’s two of you and more than one bedroom, but you know he won’t let you out of his sight. He won’t risk it. 

“Joel?” you croak, voice trembling as you sit on the end of the bed.

“Hmm?” He’s stood by the dresser opposite the bed, removing his jacket and boots. 

“I… there’s something- uhh, shit” you pause, taking a shaky breath “listen, please don’t make a big deal of this but I want you to fuck me” 

“Darlin’, I’m not gonna do that” he responds almost immediately, doesn’t give himself time to even think about it, doesn’t let himself indulge in the possibility. 

Not that he’s not thought about it, God knows he has. He’s wanted you, wanted to feel your lips on his, feel your nails claw at his back as he takes you. But you never gave any indication you wanted it too, so he stayed respectful, well, as respectful as he could. There’d been nights he’d fisted his cock, your name a whisper on his lips as he came into his hand, while your sleeping body lay just inches away.

“Please” you barely whisper, he goes to speak, to reject you again, but you cut him off,  “Joel, please. I don’t- I want it to be you, I don’t want it to be like that” your eyes are pleading, silently begging “please” 

“You’ve not…? There’s not been anyone?” He asks tentatively, hoping he’s misunderstood, that you’re not actually asking that of him, he crosses the room, sitting next to you on the end of the bed. 

“I’ve been kinda busy, what with the end of the world and all that” you try and make a joke but it falls flat, sobering, shining a light on all the ways your life has been taken away from you, all the experiences you’ve missed out on. 

It shouldn’t be him, he knows it shouldn’t, he’s so much older, he’s cruel and ruthless and angry. You deserve something else, soft, gentle, loving. He can’t give you that. 

But if he doesn’t, if he says no and doesn’t do this for you, there’s no guarantee the next guy is going to love you, no guarantee that he won’t hurt you. For Joel, that decides it, he can’t give you what you deserve but he can give you something better than what’s out there. 

Cautious fingers on his leg startle him out of his thoughts, “Just once, just this once” His agreement doesn’t soothe you, it ignites something, butterflies rolling in your belly; you want this. 

You’d seen other men on your travels, the way they treated women, both good and bad. You’d thought, naively, that Joel might be like that too, that Joel might take you to his bed, fuck himself into you then roll over, pretend it never happened. But he never did, always respectful, barely ever touching you unless he had to, you’d shared beds, and bandaged each other up, but he’d never touched, never taken it further. “All right?” He nudges when you don’t respond

You nod tightly and whisper a “thank you”, sitting quietly in awkward silence, you don’t know what to do next, you’ve read books, you knew how to do this before but you didn’t know how to deal with an arrangement like this. 

Joel breaks the silence first “Do you want to… tonight or would you rather w-?”

“Tonight,” your response is a bit quick and Joel huffs an almost laugh “tonight is good”  

You don’t know how to phrase ‘lets just get it over and done with’ when you’re about to fuck someone for the first time. He stands then, grabbing something from his bag then dropping it to the floor. Liquid sloshes as Joel brings the flask to his lips, drawing in three times, brow furrowed. He hands the  flask to you “Drink” and the look in his eyes tells you not to question him. 

You take a sip and nearly retch, the taste burning your throat and nose, eyes watering. You hadn’t liked whiskey much before and while it’s rare to find anything else these days, you still hadn’t got used to the taste. You take another sip, stomaching this one better. You hold the flask back out to Joel and he takes another drag before placing it on the dresser with slightly more force than he meant.

In two steps he’s back across the room, his hands finding your face, calloused fingers dragging along the skin of your jaw, bringing you to meet his lips. The kiss is bruising and feverish, hot lips pressing to yours, he licks into your mouth and you moan, it’s sinful and sweet and Joel wants more. He wants to pull more pretty noises from you, wants to hear you scream his name. His cock responds eagerly, hardening in his jeans, he’s not felt desire like this in years, it’s burning through his blood, overwhelming his senses. 

Joel stands between your legs, tilting your chin up, bringing a knee to rest on the mattress between your thighs. One of his large hands moves to support your neck, the other tracing the line of your throat, gripping gently. The kiss has grown sloppy, Joel is breathing hard, nipping at your lips. His knee between your legs moves to press into your clothed core and despite the layers of fabric you can feel the heat of his thick thigh, your hips roll, chasing more pleasure and a groan escapes your throat unexpectedly. 

Joel’s hand drops from your throat, following the neckline of your shirt, down between your breasts, flicking the buttons open, exposing you to the humid air. He pushes the flannel off your shoulders, taking the straps of your bra with it, reaching behind you to unclasp it, inwardly pleased he managed the first try.   

You slide your hands to his waist, dragging his shirt with you, brushing your fingers across bare skin. Your fingers trace the waistband of his jeans but he reaches for your hands, wrapping a large hand around your wrists he pushes you flat, pinning your arms above your head. The other hand joins his knee between your legs, fingers teasing the seam of your jeans. 

“You asked me to fuck you,” he pulls a nipple into his mouth, teeth nibbling at the sensitive bud “n’ I will” It may have been a while but it’s really just second nature to him and he feels you shiver beneath him “gonna make you feel good darlin’”

“Joel” Your throat is dry and your voice cracks but it’s enough, his hands reach for the button of your jeans, working them down your legs while his mouth assaults your breasts. You can’t focus, it’s too much, his mouth, hands, the feel of his body, large and imposing over yours. He finally gets your jeans off, discarding them to the floor.

You reach for him, finding the buttons of his shirt, tugging gently but making your intentions clear, he allows your trembling fingers to fumble with the buttons for a minute before helping you, making quick work of the buttons, all but ripping the shirt down his arms, throwing it to the floor behind him before positioning himself between your thighs.

Joel’s hand runs up your outer thigh, fingers digging into the flesh of your bum. He trails kisses over your skin, behind your ear, down your jaw, across each of your breasts, fingers playing with the nipple neglected by his mouth. He moves his head down your exposed torso, tongue tasting the salty sweat on your skin you gasp softly as he reaches the waistband of your underwear, black lace, a little luxury that makes you feel pretty and feminine. He nudges the fabric with his nose, breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver, 

“You don’t have to” you whisper into the darkness.

A soft “yeah I do” is mumbled into your skin. He makes quick work of removing your underwear, dragging the lace down your legs and dropping them to the floor in a rather obscene gesture.

His mouth is back on your hips working his way to nuzzle at your folds, leaving open mouthed kisses and grazes of his teeth on your skin. His hands press against the back of your thighs, pushing your knees up to your chest, spreading you wide. Joel’s eyes roll back in his head at the sight of you, pussy glistening in the dim light, the low growl that sounds in his chest shakes the bed and it takes all his restraint to take it slow, make it good for you. 

“This all for me?” He rubs his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it up to your clit, circling the little bundle. You look down at him between your spread thighs and nod. 

The sound you make when Joel flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt is unholy, and when he flicks his tongue against your clit you can’t help the way a hand reaches for his hair and tugs, nor can you help the sharp cry of his name. 

Languid, is the word you’d use to describe the way Joel works at your cunt. Long, slow, lazy circles around your swollen clit, soft passes over the entrance to your cunt, not giving you more than that for what feels like hours. You catch on, quite quickly, that this is as much for Joel as it is for you, and you think he might be enjoying it the most.  

Joel hums around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, and the arch of your back is violent, a stark contrast to Joel’s gentle movements, biting down on the fleshy part of your thumb to muffle your scream. 

“Don’t do that” a hand reaches up in the dark to pull your fist from your mouth, “wanna hear you” his breath is hot against your core, tongue lapping at you like a man starved. 

You’re hot, skin prickly with a layer of sweat, hips rolling, pushing your soaked pussy into Joel’s face, your clit catching on his nose as he teases your entrance with his tongue. 

“Jo-el” your voice is whiny to your own ears and your face heats at the sound “more, please more” 

Joel lets out a hum at your request, bringing two thick fingers to slide into you and already you feel the intoxicating spark of your orgasm approaching. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and the feeling shoots straight to his cock. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, your grip in his hair painful even to you.  “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, Joel”

You’re so close that when Joel crooks his fingers and continues his assault on your clit, your orgasm tears through you. You stiffen, hissing a “Yesss”through gritted teeth, hands clawing at the sheets and Joel’s hair.

“‘Atta girl” he coos around your clit “tha’s it baby” The sound of Joel’s voice is muffled by the ringing in your ears and when you open your eyes all you can see is stars, flashes of white clouding your vision. 

Sensing his movement, you open your eyes and when they’ve adjusted to the darkness again, you can see the burly outline of Joel kneeling between your legs, his eyes drag down your body, fingers of his left hand gently caressing the bend of your knee. You sit up, reaching for his belt, tugging at the buckle. Joel watches as you pull his belt free, fingers ghosting over his length confined in the denim as you pull down the zip. 

When your fingers dip inside to grasp him he can’t stop the choked “fuck” that escapes his throat. Pulling him free of his boxers, your jaw drops at the size, fuck he’s thick, so thick, and swaying heavily between his legs, dripping with precum. With hesitant fingers you run the pad of your thumb down his slit, smearing the fluid, stopping to rub your thumb on the underside of his head. Joel can’t help the jerky twitch of his hips at the stimulation. You take that as a positive, repeating the action once, twice more, before calloused hands still your movements. You look up to Joel, confusion clear on your face. 

“Won’t last if you keep that up” Joel explains, his voice a whisper, vulnerability evident even in his low tone. 

You release his length from your grasp, bringing your thumb coated in his arousal to your mouth, sucking tentatively. You don’t notice Joel watching you through hooded eyes, but he makes quick work of his jeans and boxers, kicking the offending fabric off as quick as his aching bones will let him.  

Experienced hands lift your legs to hook over his hips as he settles himself between your thighs again. You can feel the thick length of Joel’s cock pressed firmly against you, sliding through the wetness left by his mouth and your orgasm as he ruts against you. It takes the entirety of Joel’s willpower to not fuck into you, coming back to himself, he remembers why he’s doing this. 

“Gotta tell me if y’need to stop” he slurs against your temple and he feels you nod as he presses a soft kiss to your clammy skin. Joel rests the heavy weight of his cock against your entrance, running the head between your folds, bumping your clit and soaking himself with your wetness. He presses himself in to your tight heat and you feel like you’re being split open, wincing at the burn “I know, ‘m sorry darlin’, it won’t hurt for long promise”   

Joel pushes your sweat-damp hair out of your face, big hands cupping your face, open mouth dragging against yours. He tries to distract you with wet kisses to your jaw but when he pushes himself deeper you cry out, hands flying to claw at his hips, stopping him from moving any further. 

“We can stop” Joel mutters into your open mouth but you give a quick shake of your head 

“No. I’m okay, I’ll be okay” The feeling is foreign, neither his fingers or tongue could’ve prepared you for the stretch of his cock, nor the desperate ache that settled deep inside you, the one you know only Joel can satisfy. 

You can feel him throbbing inside you, and it’s taking everything in him to hold still

“Eyes on me darlin’” Joel orders as he pries your hand off his hip, entwines his fingers with yours, and pins your hand to the mattress. Your eyes meet through the darkness and there’s a softness in Joel’s eyes you wish you could bottle and keep.

You tense up in anticipation of Joel’s next movement, squeezing your cunt around Joel’s cock

“Fuckin’ Christ  darlin’, y’gotta relax, just relax” you will your body to relax, to release the squeezing of your core, “that’s it, doin’ so good, you’re doin’ so good. Takin me so well” and yes, you keen at his praise, the throb of arousal in your stretched cunt is heavenly and Joel takes your moment of distraction to sink the rest of his length into you. 

“Fuck” you whimper, the sharp stretch shocks you, eyes widening.

He shudders a breath above you, “‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry”

“So big Joel. ‘T  hurts” you practically sob and the sound breaks his heart in ways he didn’t expect. Joel breaks eye contact first, fixing his eyes on where you’re currently impaled on his cock. He moves to pull out but you tighten your thighs, keeping him still “No, don’t. Don’t wanna stop. Just give me a minute” you close your eyes and breath in deep through your nose, letting a shaky breath out. 

“Touch yourself,” Joel orders, bringing your hand still clutching his to his mouth, wetting your fingers with his tongue before pressing your fingers against your clit “‘t’ll make you feel better” 

You obey, stroking your bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm “that feel good?” He asks as you tighten involuntarily around him. 

“Yes,” you pause for a moment, continuing to stroke at your clit. Warmth blooms under your fingers, arousal spreading through your body, loosening your muscles, the discomfort subsides, leaving behind a different kind of ache “can you move? Please” 

The way you ask him, with your pleases and thank yous, still so polite despite the harsh world you live in, it’s innocent and sweet, and he loves it. It activates something primal in him, some deep desire to protect you, to please you. To pleasure you. 

Joel settles his knees wide on the mattress, pulling his cock from your depths before pushing back in slowly, when you don’t stop him he repeats the action. “shit darlin’, so fuckin’ tight”, and he’s not wrong, the girth of his cock is stretching you in ways you’ve never been before, you can feel every vein, every ridge, every goddamn fucking inch as he works himself in and out of you. It’s steady, controlled, almost gentle, the way he rolls his hips, leaving enough space between you for your fingers to continue working your clit, not that you need the distraction anymore. 

He could cum right there, your aching cunt absolute bliss around him. The whine that leaves your throat is of pleasure not pain and the tightness in his chest borders on uncomfortable. He’s done this before, he’s experienced, he’s had women screaming his name but nothing compares to the breathy sound of his name leaving your lips. You’re so sweet, eyes fluttering, fingers ghosting across the skin of his hips, the softness of his belly, the firm muscles of his chest and his broad shoulders. 

You could pretend, wrapped up in Joel like this, that it’s not the end of the world, that this comfy bed in this nicely decorated house is yours and Joel’s. You pretend, just for a minute, as he’s fucking himself into you, that he’s yours. Your hands reaching to wrap around his back, nails scratching at the muscles working beneath the skin, it’s intimate.

You feel his pace falter, “‘m close darlin’” he mumbles into the thick air above you, “fuck, y’gotta come for me baby, come on” it sounds like he’s begging and you find that you quite like the sound of Joel begging, especially when he’s begging you to cum for him.  

He can see you’re close, legs twitching, breathing heavy, he can feel the tell-tale flutters in your cunt and he knows “what d’ya need?” He pants, chasing your high, no care or regard for his own anymore, he just wants you to get there. 

“Joel, I need mo-” he drives himself into you deeper, tilting his hips to rub his cock against your sweet spot. With fluttering eyes and heaving chest you whine a tight “that’s it” fingers working furiously at your clit, hips rocking down as you meet his thrusts “Joel, yes” you groan, the sound reverberating in your chest. 

He feels your cunt squeeze him “tha’s it, good girl”, he needs to stop or he’ll cum but you don’t care, continuing to rock your hips, thrusting down forcefully against him, cock reaching deeper than you thought possible and you tense, muttering a “fuck” as you cum hard around him. You can’t comprehend that this is what it feels like, the violent quivering of your muscles, tight and squeezing. Fuck, you don’t want to let this feeling go, Joel’s cock buried so deep inside you it hurts, you never want to cum without this ever again. 

Joel gives a few tight thrusts, “Shit, what a sight” He has to pull out, he can’t cum inside you, can’t take the risk but the rhythmic pulsing of your walls is dragging him kicking and screaming to the edge.  You let out a breathy “inside Joel, inside,” the way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine, but the way you moan the softest “please” has him cumming, cock twitching violently, hips rocking, pushing his release deeper. 

His mouth meets yours roughly, ragged groans escaping between harsh kisses as he continues to pump inside you. He can’t remember the last time he came this hard, beyond satisfied and completely drained but he still can’t break his lips from yours. The kiss is soft now, tender and lazy, something close to loving. His sweaty weight above you is grounding, bringing you back to reality. 

Joel groans and drops his forehead to your chest, cock still buried deep you can sense his reluctance to part from you, you tangle your fingers in his hair, allowing him to rest against you. He stays for a minute or two before groaning, aging knees and shoulders protesting as he hovers over you. 

He moves slowly, dragging his softening cock out from your over sensitive heat and you moan low in the back of your throat as he disappears, returning from the en-suite with a damp towel, 

“There’s warm water” he mumbles as he wipes the towel gently between your legs. You hum contentedly, your tired body drowsy and dopamine drunk. You briefly think about the long hot shower you’re going to take in the morning when the bed dips next to you and Joel reaches for you, rolling you into his side, your head on his chest. If you had more energy you’d say something but the gentle caress of Joel’s thumb behind your ear and the slow thump of his heartbeat quickly has your eyes closing and your breath steadying. 

“Was that” Joel pauses, what, good? All right? Just okay? he thinks it’ll kill him if it was bad for you

“Good, it was good” you offer him a soft smile “thank you” 

“Christ darlin’ so fuckin’ polite” he can feel himself stirring again beneath the sheets, and fuck he’s depraved, he’s convinced you could make him cum just by saying please. 

Joel must think you’re asleep and you feel it more than you hear it, his whispered admission of “love you” spoken into your hair as he presses soft kisses to the top of your head. 

𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[toxicanonymity]

Any more Raider!Joel? 🥺🥺

I’ll sell my soul for anything about raider Joel

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1.3k / raider!Joel x fem!Reader / raider master

mood board by @milla-frenchy

WARNINGS: Dark fluff.  Angst.  Mention of cum. Aftermath of skin carving. Joel carries reader. Sleep kissing, grinding. Angst: Joel is mean in the morning. Credits/shoutouts: everyone who's asked about kissing him, @javier-penas-wifexx420 (shoes)

🖤 picks up from Raider: J. Miller

You pause on the way up the hill.  "It hurts," you whimper, cowering and holding yourself where he claimed you. Your chest burns, too. 

"C'mere," he says and hoists you up over his shoulder for the rest of the walk. Joel's trailer overlooks the stash house and gravel road so he can see trouble coming.  He sets you down, holds the door open for you, then lets it close behind him.

"Got ya somethin'," he says as he puts down the duffle bag on the table. He takes out a few wash cloths then a faded red can.  Chef Boyardee.

-

You could cry, you're so grateful. You throw your arms around him.  He stays tense and doesn't hug you back.  He hardens his face and says, "Take a rest. I'll be outside cookin'."  You curl up on Joel’s bed while he makes a fire outside and heats up the Chef Boyardee. 

When the door to the trailer opens again, you come right to the table, eyes wide like a kitten at feeding time.  It’s been a while since you had something other than squirrel.  You sit down at the small table and wait patiently.  Joel sets down a pot of beefaroni and a pot of boiled water.  He says, "Don't wanna eat too fast. make yourself sick. C'mere." He pats the stool to his left. You slide into it.  He gets a spoonful from the pot and blows on it then brings it to your mouth.  You open up and slurp it down.  It tastes and feels so good. He's right, you would probably wolf it down and make yourself sick.  

When a little bit dribbles onto your dress, Joel says "okay," and sets the spoon in the pot.  You're afraid he's mad.  "Right here." He pats his lap.  You sit on his lap side saddle and he feeds you a few more spoonfuls.  Then he hands you the spoon.  He says "slow, just like I was." He smooths your dress and  watches you eat the rest.  He unlaces your dirty converse all stars while you're eating and slips them off for you.  

You offer Joel some of the beefaroni, but he says you can have the rest of you eat it real slow. He holds a hand on your stomach then slides it down your dress, lightly grazing over your thigh, then your knee, your shin, the top of your foot.  He holds your foot in his massive hand and brushes the delicate arch with his fingers.  You squirm because it tickles and brace yourself for scolding but he doesn't. He just tightens his hand around your foot.  When you're finished with the spoonfuls, you scrape the edges of the pot with the spoon and then turn the pot up and drink as much as you can from it. For the first time in weeks your stomach feels warm and full. 

"Thank you," you say with tears in your eyes.  Joel doesn't make eye contact. He reaches for one of the washcloths and dips it into the boiled water. He puts his left arm under your right arm and braces your back. Then he starts to clean your chest, gently dabbing the trails of blood that have run up to your neck or down into your dress.  You begin to sniffle. He sighs. "Don't wanna hurt ya, sweet pea.  Don't want anyone else to, either."  

When he's done, you ask if you can go to the bathroom.  You haven't seen the carving yourself yet. He lets you stand up, then says, "you're gonna have stuff comin' out of here," lightly pushing your dress into your crack. "Maybe for days. It's a lot." He lets you go with a gentle pat on the butt.

-

You stand at the small, chipped sink and look at yourself in the cracked dirty mirror, reading the text on your chest backwards in the mirror. "J. Miller."  You almost finger the letters then remember not to touch it.  You hardly recognize yourself.  Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot.  You use the toilet and hear Joel cleaning up from dinner.  You stay in the bathroom enjoying a rare moment of privacy.  Then his footsteps get closer.  "You ok?" His face sounds like it might be right at the door. 

"Um. Yeah," you say and open the door. 

"Ok. Let's get you to bed." 

Joel tucks you into his bed.  It's an old, full size mattress on a cheap metal frame.  It's better than the sash house cots.  At least it has sheets and a blanket. 

"You're not coming?" You ask.

"No, not yet," he says.  "Gotta figure some stuff out.  Be right outside." He cracks the bedroom window before he goes outside. 

Joel goes outside and makes a fire.  You listen to it snap and pop and can hear the slosh of whiskey in a bottle.  Your whole body is spent. You shudder to think what you'd be doing if Joel hadn't saved you from FEDRA.

-

You fall asleep and don't even notice when Joel gets into bed and spoons you. 

You only wake up when he startles in his sleep, which jerks your body. He doesn't wake up, but he tightens his arm around you and his hand digs into the wounds on your chest.  You push back against his forearm and he stirs, confused. 

“My chest,” you whisper.  “You said don’t touch it.” 

"Shhhhh," he says without fully waking up.  He cups your breast and cages you, bringing his leg over yours.  His naked dick presses into you.  

Then his lips tenderly press into the nape of your neck and stay.  He’s never done that before.  It feels really good.  Warm.  Like you’re supposed to be right there in his arms. 

-

When you wake up in the morning, he’s still asleep.  You slowly, carefully turn around, his arm still draped over your side,  but loosely. Now you’re facing him.   He looks so peaceful, so harmless.  You know he’s not.  You study his face - the lines between his brows even as he sleeps, the patches in his beard, the hook of his nose, the way his lips part just slightly.  You scoot yourself closer, and your heart races.  

You dare to press your lips into his.  His arm pulls you in and his brow furrows as he just barely kisses you back.  You reach your arm over his waist to hug him as you kiss him again.  He kisses you back harder, then his cock hardens against your front.  He grunts as he grinds himself into you.  You softly moan into his mouth, then he jolts awake and pushes himself away.  

“The hell are you doin’??” He looks at you like you should know better, then averts his eyes as your face becomes pathetic and wounded.

“I - what - nothing,” you stammer softly.  

He sits up and wipes his mouth off then covers his cock for the first time and turns away.   “God damn,” he says and smooths his beard with both hands. He never meant to kiss you in the first place. 

Your eyes sting, but you want to recover. “I thought maybe I could suck your cock,” you offer.  “If you want.”  

He picks up his tight jeans from the floor and pulls them on, too disturbed to accept.  “No,” he says.  “Get dressed.”  He won’t look at you.  

On the walk down the hill to the stash house, he doesn’t say a word.  You walk a few steps behind him and admire his ass in his tight jeans. When you’re almost to the back door of the house, he says in a hushed voice, “you’re stayin’ here today.”  

He brings you back to the room with two beds.  He chains you to the radiator, briefly looks you in the face, and it seems like he's going to say something, but he doesn't. He gives your guard the key for bathroom trips, and reminds the guard what happens to him if anything happens to you.  

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @zliteraturehoe @neobanguniverse @quietlyignoringyou

[thetriumphantpanda]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You | J. Miller Drabble

Summary | Literally just a Drabble about Joel being an era's tour dad, meeting a pretty girl in cowboy boots and flirting. That's it. It's dumb. This goes out to my girl Doni @morning-star-joy who is going to see Tay-Tay tonight and can now be delulu about meeting Joel Miller there. And also therapy for me because I'm in the UK and got waitlisted for tickets, so CRIES. I wrote this in like an hour so excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

Joel Miller didn't exactly understand when he'd signed up to take Sarah to her first concert. When she'd asked to use his credit card to buy the tickets, he'd just nodded and handed it over. When his bill came through the next month, he almost passed out from the cost. But stood here now, in seats that might very well give him a nosebleed, watching Sarah almost lose her mind over the fact that Taylor Swift was about to appear on stage, it was all forgotten. All Joel ever wanted was for his little girl to be happy.

He'd spent weeks listening to the songs, learning the lyrics so he might be able to sing along with Sarah. He watched her sit in front of the television each night making bracelets to trade, and he squirrelled away as much money as possible so he could buy her a t-shirt or something on the night too.

Joel was watching as Sarah swapped friendship bracelets with two girls to her right when something else caught his eye. Two people shuffling into the two seats that had been vacant in front of Joel and Sarah for most of the night. One of them, around Sarah's age, was almost as excited as his girl, bouncing up and down, looking around the stadium with eyes as wide as saucers, taking it all in, but you? You were something else entirely. You had a white cowboy hat sat on top of your head, not dissimilar to his own apart from the colour and the fact yours was covered in sparkly rhinestones. You had a white dress on, falling to your mid-thigh, made of lace and scalloped edges, and a pair of beat-up old brown leather cowboy boots. The literal picture of heaven on earth as far as he was concerned.

He watched as you pointed to the two seats in front of him and Sarah, motioning for the other girl to sit down so you could hand her the soda you were carrying. He noticed your wrists were covered in the same type of bracelets his daughter had been going wild for all evening. Almost on cue, Sarah leans over, tapping your shoulder.

"You wanna trade?" She asks, holding up her own plastic-laden wrist to show you.

"Hell yeah," You smile, nudging the girl with you, "Why don't you give this little superstar one of yours too?"

Joel watches intently as you let Sarah scan your wrists for the specific bracelet she wants, picking one made of pink beads, swapping it with one of hers that was made of black and gold. Joel had no idea what any of them meant, all he knew was that the bill for friendship bracelet materials on his credit card nearly rivalled the bill for the tickets.

"You want one as well, mister?" Your voice cuts through his thoughts, "Can't come and see Taylor and leave with empty wrists I'm afraid."

"Well, I ain't got anything to trade ya with." Joel shrugs.

"That's okay," you smile, "I'll forgive you, this time."

Joel keeps an eye trained on you as you search your wrists, obviously having something incredibly specific in mind for him. You find it, eyes lighting up as you pull it from your wrist and hand it over to him. He takes the delicate thing in his big palm - red, white and blue beads with letters in hearts that spell out 'Cowboy Like Me'. Very fitting.

"Thanks, Darlin'," He smiles, slipping it over his hand, "You been waiting to find the perfect man to give that to all night?"

You let your head fall back in a laugh and Joel thinks you might just be the prettiest goddamned girl he's ever seen in his life. Sarah is pulling at his wrist so she can see exactly what bracelet you've given her dad, laughing and then leaning forward.

"I made him wear the hat!" She exclaims, "Told him he had to fit in."

"Well, you made a good choice," You grin, "He looks mighty fine in his cowboy hat."

You finally turn your attention back to your companion - judging by your likeness he assumes it must be your little sister. You're pointing out things around the stadium for her to look at, and he can't help but find it endearing how she's bouncing in her seat at every little thing, much like Sarah had done when they'd taken their seats.

Joel feels a nudge to his side, Sarah is looking up at him with that glint he knows and loves so much - she's got an idea.

"She's really pretty, dad."

"Sarah!" He chastises, eye flickering to you to make sure you didn't hear what she'd said, but you look completely oblivious.

"She is though!" She retorts in a hushed whisper, "I think she likes you."

Joel brings a finger to his lips to try and get this devil of a girl to be quiet, but he can't help but indulge her - Sarah was right, you are really pretty, "She don't know the first thing about me," He finishes the conversation, "Now you sit tight, I'm going to find you a soda."

When Joel returns, to drinks in hand, he can see Sarah leant over the seats speaking to you. He dreads to think what she's been trying to cook up, seemingly obsessed with making sure he's not so lonely in life anymore.

"Move over," He asks, Sarah shifting to the seat he was in before he left, "Don't drink it all at once, you'll need it for all the screaming you're gonna do." He says, handing the soda to her.

Once he sits back down, you turn in your chair to speak to him.

"Sarah says you're a builder?" She asks, clearly just trying to make polite conversation with him whilst your sister speaks to Sarah.

"Contractor actually," He shrugs, as if it matters, "But yeah, I build stuff, what do you do?"

"I'm a teacher," You smile, "Teach 4th grade." He's about to ask you another question when every single person in the stadium starts screaming, he thinks by the end of tonight he might actually be deaf, "Well, you enjoy the show, mister, hope you learnt some lyrics."

Contrary to what he'd thought, Joel actually does enjoy the show. He sings along to some of the songs he remembers, dances with Sarah for most of the night and keeps a close eye on you during it all. You know every single word to every single song, just like your little sister and he has to admit that when you're throwing your hands in the air and screaming to the lyrics, he finds you prettier than he had done all night.

When all is said and done at the end of the night, you say a polite goodbye to him and Sarah. When he finally sits in his truck, waiting for the scores of traffic to clear so he can get them home, he kicks himself for not asking for your number, but resigns himself to the fact that it was fate. Meant to meet once and that was it. It's not until he's finally carried Sarah up to bed, fast asleep in his arms and settled down to unwind in front of the TV that he pulls his phone from his pocket and sees a message from an unknown number.

I was enchanted to meet you, Joel. Drinks? Saturday @ 6pm?

[dev1lm4n]

4 + 1

pairings: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader

summary: the apocalypse didn't happen. joel shift jobs into becoming a bodyguard for a billionaire’s wife. four times joel realized he's in love and the one time he actually did something about it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: explicit (18+), p in v, no protection, infidelity, implied domestic abuse (not by joel)

notes: this is my fav to write by far ♡ if ur a writer or loves reading, chat me up and let's be moots

Clementine hues of orange sauntered in through the slick frame of her kitchen windows, causing a layer of tinted filtering to be added throughout the boring beige paints littered all around. Everything was in honeyed tones, beautiful and soothing. He had to admit that there was something godly about your kitchen. Something he couldn’t resist.

It was much different compared to the heavy smell of paint and cement he’s smothered in back when he’s still dwelling in construction. Instead of the constant buzz of drilling and swings of hammers into wooden panels, he’s now embraced in an endless collection of Jazz. His shoes are now polished— he could even see his own beaming reflection in the shiny black. A fitted tuxedo snug against the broad of his chest— a total 180° change from his Texan classic style of flannels and denims.

Joel used to think that he’s all too ill-mannered to be participating in the posh bullshit rich families are prone to, but when he saw the ads your husband was posting out, he couldn’t possibly decline the offer. The pay was enough to get Sarah all the way through university without picking up loans and it came with barely a risk.

He was just there to follow a billionaire’s pretty little wife around, carry your bags of impulsive purchases, and drop you off to go drink martinis with your girlfriends. The gun tucked into his back pocket was merely for show. After all, his dirty scowl is usually enough to set people aside. So, he signed the contract and was tied to what he envisioned to be a snobby flashy gal.

But you were an anomaly. 

You were the opposite of the few descriptive words your husband mapped you out as, which he recalled to be ‘bimbo’ and ‘a pain in the ass’. You were lovely. The kind of girl that’d bake your husband a sweet tray of apple pie in your cute little dotted blue apron. He was guilty of watching your every move. Every bend, perk, curve of your body. Because, duh, he had to make sure you weren’t harming yourself. What if you accidentally set a fire off in the stove? At least, that’s what he’s telling himself to fend upon his guilt.

“Come on. Open your mouth, Joel!” you cheered excitedly at the sight of your glistening apple pie, cut open into perfectly eight slices. As the fork pierced through the warm, flaky crust of the apple pie, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and baked apples filled the air. The crust crumbled ever so slightly as the fork lifted a generous slice, revealing the warm, gooey filling. A persuasive look keen on your face as you raised your fork forward, just a few inches away from his pursed lips.

“I don’t think I should, ma’am.”

“Why not?”

“Your husband’s coming home soon..” he trailed off, uneasy about the increasingly delicate situation.

“So? Married people can’t have friends now?”

You could closely watch his determination waver, because god did your apple pie look good even from a distance. But he shouldn’t be doing this on the job, right? Playing kitchen with you out of all people.

“We’re not friends.”

“Oh, we’re not?”

“No,” he shook his head. 

Only to entertain you and play into your own rhythm of things, Joel sank his teeth into the tender apples and buttery crust, sweet flavors exploded on his tongue. The warm, rich filling oozed out of the pie and coated his palate in a heavenly blend of spices and sweetness. What made it better was the shy smile you had on your face, unmarred by what the world had to offer. Your eyes twinkle fondly, sparking what felt like fireworks in his belly.

“Good?”

He simply nodded. Joel chewed slowly, averting his gaze away from you because who knows what he might start to imagine if he’s constantly being presented that view of you.

“Mr. Waterford’s gonna like it,” he reassured.

“Wait. Joel. What does that spell out?”

You enquired, brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of the word he’d just put together on the tiled board. Your lips pursed and you tilted your head slightly to the side, as if trying to get a different perspective. It seemed that your feigned innocence managed to work wonders in your bodyguard’s head, because his brows knitted along with yours, seemingly worried that he might actually get the word incorrectly. It may have been the nth time that you toyed around with him childishly, but it’s not your fault he always had such a silly expression to share each time.

“Darling,” he read the word aloud innocently. Texas twang dripping from every syllable.

“Yes, honey?”

Joel looked away bashfully at your playful banter. You could tell he’s raking his head to find ways to try and guide the conversation back into a safe spot. To maintain professionalism, where his heart doesn’t have to race a million times per second and his palms doesn’t have to turn all clammy from a childish joke. But he’s failing. Miserably at that. He tried to muster up the courage to respond in kind, but his mind went blank, leaving him tongue-tied.

“I’m just joking. You’re not mad, are you?”

Of course, he’s not mad. He could never be angry at you even if you sometimes do the weirdest things he could ever think of, like that one time last week where you decided you should try out every single barbeque sauce available in the supermarket. You’re just too sweet to be angry at. Snow could melt if you were there beaming that same dear smile of yours, miracles could happen if it was you. Joel thought that this was his punishment. A karma for all the terrible things he did throughout his twenties, the girls he fiddled and the money he possibly swindled. It’s hard to watch you and not be able to put his hands on you. It’s unfair.

“No,” he whispered vaguely as he drew more tiles from the messy pile. Joel looked amazingly dedicated for a bodyguard who’s being forced to play Scrabble with his employer’s wife— you found it hilarious, which resulted in the delicate giggle you uttered.

“Why don’t you hang out with your actual friends, Mrs. Waterford?”

You frowned.

“First of all, never call me by his name. Second, why do you care so much about who I hang out with?” you seethed out petulantly.

Even when you’re throwing a silly tantrum, he still looked at you as if you held out the sun and the moon. As if you’re the beginning and the end, but you weren’t going to assume what might just be a figment to your foolish imaginations.

“Sorry. I just.. I don’t have to play the dutiful, elegant wife when I’m here. I don’t have to pretend like I enjoy tea times and chalky macarons.”

You hate playing dress up when you’re just there to be your husband’s little pet. Ready to serve him at your every move. It’s suffocating to pretend like you’re content with how your life turned out to be, to giggle at condescending jokes other wives make, or to let your husband degrade you in front of other members of the high society. You felt like a mannequin and you’d rather be here, comforted in your own qualms with Joel. Simple ol’ Joel from Texas who took such good care of you.

“I can’t say I understand.”

Joel chuckled, thinking back to his rather ordinary background. He didn’t think he ever had to participate in any social events unwillingly, except when his mom dragged him to church on Sundays when he was younger, but that was different. You were in another realm. Someone who’s not equal to him.

“Although, I’m glad you feel at ease with me.”

He’s so good with his words, you sometimes wonder if those sweet compliments actually meant a thing. You simmered at his encouragement.

Tonight marks the evening of the Annual Spring Ball. Joel, being the country boy that he is, didn’t have much clue regarding what significance this particular event held. Although, he guessed that it was a big thing considering the pile of dresses you’ve dumped carelessly in front of your walk-in closet. You’re always so messy. Maybe he liked that about you.

He stood aimlessly, feeling like a nervous boy waiting for his prom partner to reveal themselves. It crept from inside his stomach and the grip it had on his throat grew tighter and tighter the longer you took in that damned dressing room. You’re not even going with him to this presumptuous event. You’re going with your damn husband, so why is he getting ahead of himself?

“What do ya think?”

You came bursting out of the pale blue curtains like a ray of sunshine, cladded with a long fitted evening gown. He was convinced that black belonged to you. The gown was made of flowing, luxurious fabric that draped elegantly down the womanly curves of your hips.

He couldn’t help but take a peek down your classic plunging neckline, like a fucking pervert. A flattering scoop that showed off your delicate collarbone and décolletage. Viewing a glimpse of your soft mounds propped up by the tailored bodice had him shifting from one leg to the other. God, you looked like a goddess blessed you personally. Waterford is a lucky man having you by his side.

“Is it too much?”

“No. It’s just..”

Joel swallowed thickly. How he wished he could say how you’d stolen his heart and robbed him of common sense.

“You look beautiful. Mr. Waterford would’ve-”

“Can we not speak of my husband?”

You interrupted bitterly. He wasn’t sure if he saw it correctly, but he could see a look of solemn ghosting over your sweet features. How you suddenly stop being all chirpy and instead, settle on chewing your inner lip. Joel was worried and it took all of him not to prod into whatever it is you’re hiding behind all the kind and warm facade. He was simply your bodyguard and that’s all he’ll ever be so why impose?

“Will you help me with my pearls?”

“Of course.”

He swiftly walked over to the jewelry case he’s grown accustomed to, not because he ever had thoughts of stealing your precious belongings, more so because you’ve allowed him to enter and assist you in your bedroom way too often. He’s memorized every inch of the blush tinted room without fail, maybe because he was a good help or maybe.. because he’s undeniably infatuated in you. With much precision, he held the shiny pearls in between his rough fingers. Only to gently clasp the chain around your neck. The ghost of his fingers on your bare skin made you shudder in anticipation.

He might’ve overstepped his boundaries by tracing over the exposed skin of your back, feeling the bumps of your spinal cords as if he’s a professional harpist. His gaze settled on where you felt the most plush and smooth. How he wished he could feel more of you; was the rest of your unexposed skin this delicate? Did you like this?

A pregnant silence enveloped the both of you. A mutual understanding. You were nervous, enough that you could listen to how your heart pumped blood into your increasingly warm cheeks.

“What is this?”

He broke the sacred silence at the irregular hues blooming from beneath the velvet fabric. Blues, purples, some were still inflamed, red marring your sacred skin. You were bruised. Bad. His eyes went wide at the sight of permanent scars shaped like a long rod buried deep in your skin, the new skin much lighter than your skin tone. If he weren’t attentive, he would’ve missed the way it hid underneath the hemlines. 

The worst part was you didn’t say anything. Just showcasing him the same ol’ smile as you turned.

Ever since he saw your marks, the ones you’ve tried your very best to cover and withheld from the world, you’ve avoided him more than ever. Joel Miller was specifically assigned to you. To cater to your every need and protect you from the danger you might encounter, but it’s hard to do his job properly when the danger was from within.

He’s seen the way you lock your doors in his presence, leaving him uneasy as he guarded in front of your door. He’s also noticed how you stopped baking sweet apple pies, quit picking the juicy strawberries in your garden, and were lost in your own thoughts more often than anything. Maybe you’ve had enough of playing house with the lousy bodyguard he was. Maybe he was too old, too wrinkly, and too nosy for your taste.

“Joel?”

“Yes,” he answered almost too eagerly at the pleasant call of his name. His puppy-like brown eyes peaked through the small crack of your door.

“Come in. I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise for him? Didn’t you hate him? Joel looked almost entranced at the sudden knowledge. He took a determined step into your room, your wooden door creaking close behind him. You narrowed your eyes to strengthen your vision towards his striking figure. Without shame, you took in all of him. You’ve missed him as much as you hated to admit. Joel was a crucial part to your daily life. He’s a breath of fresh air. The only thing keeping you alive when you’re caged in this mansion.

“Winter’s coming.”

“It is,” he spoke softly, out-of-breath at the sight of you in your nightgown. His pupils dilated erratically at what you’ve blessed him with.

“I knitted you and Sarah matching scarfs.”

You pulled out the most beautiful pair of scarfs out of your side table, decorated with your favorite shades of ballet pink and powder blue. It wasn’t the cleanest work out there. A few loose and uneven threads here and there, but it was the most someone has ever done to him in a very long time.

It felt sincere and heartfelt. You even knitted one for his daughter who he’d only mention briefly during your time together. Once during your weekly Scrabble game and the other time when he entertained you during a house party. He smoothed the thick fabric down, tears pricking his eyes from the emotions budding from within.

“Are you seriously crying?”

You chuckled at the sight, arms crossed in front of your chest at the sight of your tough and grouchy bodyguard tearing up over some scarf. Joel meant more to you than you could ever admit. Maybe this’ll show him that part of you, just enough that your husband would never notice and you could still play it off as an act of kindness.

“That’s so lame, Joel.”

Fact is.. you were magnetic. The sweetest thing he’s ever witnessed in his long thirty six years of life, yet you’re stuck here playing wife of Waterford. Joel wanted to be your knight in shining armor and bring you to safety where he’d cherish you all his life, but what could he do? Should he just witness you wither away into an empty shell? The thought brought up the long awaited bravado and he was already bringing you up into his arms. Wrapping you in a tight embrace where all he could feel was you and only you. The softness of your pliant body, the smell of strawberries and cinnamon, and your undeniable warmth.

“You’re not happy,” he muttered underneath his breath, brows knitted and wrinkles evident.

“I will be.”

You paused.

“I have to be.”

You reassured him, pulling away from his grasp slightly. Your longing eyes bored into him with a tinge of emotion he couldn’t quite decipher, but it all became clear when you finally kissed him. You tasted better than he could ever imagine.

“Tell me you don’t want this.”

His voice was tantalizing, the rough bristles of his scruff tickling the curve of your earlobes in a manner that made you feel small. You couldn’t really pipe up a sweet comeback to what he had to say. Not when you’re pinned face down onto your fresh floral sheets, the same one you’ve spent countless nights with your estranged husband.

The crisp fabric felt cool and smooth on your squished cheek, you could even smell the lingering notes of softener wafted through the air. Joel caged you in like some sort of feral animal. Thick muscular thighs pressing next to your own as he loomed over you.

“You’re driving me insane, darlin’. Bending over with that silly knitted dress of yours.”

He murmured out into the junction of your neck. Always so careful with you, he made sure to smooth down every inch of your pristine skin, over each and every one of your scars and marks. His fingers were electric, jolting you every time he made bare contact.

You whined a soft tone when he pulled the wool hem of your dress upwards. Leaving your perky butt exposed to the cold air with nothing on but the panties you’ve chosen specifically for him. The one with the pretty pink bow and lace rimming each side; the one you knew he’s secretly pocketed a few times.

“Fuck. Such a pretty cunt. Is this for me or for Waterford?”

You were just too good to be true. Someone so perfect like you was willing to let him have a taste of what heaven on earth was, even when your husband was downstairs mingling with the other party guests. Joel was ecstatic at the thought. His eyes twinkled with obsession as he pulled your panties aside, probing a finger into your sloppy hole. One of his fingers was swallowed whole by your throbbing cunt and all he could hear was the loud squelching noise it made. It was as if you hadn’t been filled to the brim for a very long time. What a waste.

“For you. Only for you, Joel.”

Joel couldn’t hide the smugness running deep in his expression, pulling onto each corner his mustache. The constant need to prove himself to you tipped him over the edge. He wanted to be gentle with you, to be kind and cautious, because you were his everything, but it’s harder when he’s already leaking in his boxers. Seven inch, uncut, and sensitive. His fat cock thrived at the thought of you aching beneath him.

“He didn’t fuck you well, did he? Left you all wet for me.”

He teased sweetly as he unzipped his pants eagerly, only to tug at his waistband swiftly. Joel felt the adrenaline rushing through his headspace. It might be fucked up but somehow he wanted to prove how good he is for you, how he’d let your husband barge in if it meant proving how you’re such a good fit for his girth.

At the thought, Joel leaned forward to nip at your pulse point. You whined for more. He cooed softly, making sure you were slick enough as he flicked his cock along your needy slit. His thick raspy groans were heavenly, yet sinful for you to hear. You’re married for goodness sake.

“Put it in me, Joel. Fuck me. Please. Now.”

Your incoherent begging was music to his ears, enough that he gave in to your requests. He prodded his leaking tip into your entrance. Joel was unable to hide his pleasure, lashes fluttering as he rolled his hips in one sharp movement. He had to stop immediately once he’s buried deep in your velvety walls. Knowing he’d burst if he was to continue. He let out a breathy chuckle, grounding himself with all his might.

“Joe-el!”

That’s all you could muster as you pushed your hips further back into his, babbling hopeless pleads in hopes that he’d move and solve the everlasting coiling need. Such a slut.

“I got you, darlin’”

He held you steady by the small of your hips, adding ample pressure to have you arching back nicely. Joel fulfilled his promise by sheathing himself entirely within you. Slick and sloppy, he pounded into you. You’re on cloud nine. Desperately muffling his name into your bed sheets as if it’d make a difference in the boundaries you’ve crossed on this eventful day.

The golden ring band encircling your finger taunted you whilst it glimmered underneath the dim lights: all about your failing marriage and your stupid affair. You knew this wasn’t going to last long. Hell, things could fall apart if your husband caught a whiff of Joel’s cedar cologne on you.

“Stay with me, please, darlin’”

Joel looped his tough arms over your chest, effectively straightening you upright against his firm chest. His tip probed deeper inside you at the new position, exploring places you didn’t think was possible. You couldn’t see him and you thought it might be better. For you didn’t have to remember how unbelievably hot he looked while fucking you from behind; you’d worry his name would slip in your head when Waterford finally required you to cater to his needs.

“Run away with me.”

He tried once more and you had to say, it was quite a romantic gesture to attempt when he’s twitching vulgarly inside you. There was a sense of need in his voice. He’s begging you to leave all this luxury and royalty behind for the love he had to offer. What was it.. modern times Romeo & Juliet? You let out an airy moan in response, backing up even further to fulfill your burning desire. The coily dark trim on the base of his slick cock scraped your soft skin. He’s inside you entirely. Without any barrier because god did he secretly want to pump you full of cum. Maybe he'll let you wander back onto your husband's arms with his cum still stuffed deep within you.

“I can’t.”

You shook your head, a soft gasp slipping past your lips as his grip tightened around your wrist. His nails dug out crescent shape marks into your skin uncomfortably.

“Joel. Shit. Don’t move.”

He obeyed. A small grin taking over when he witnessed the shake of your legs and how you looked heavenly even when you’re seconds away from climaxing. He relished in the way your tongue cutely darted out like a dog in heat. You’re still cute even when you’re all spread out for him.

“I love you.”

He whispered once more, voice fleeting against your ear. Joel needed to kiss you. Needed to feel your soft lips on him for what might be the last time. His nimble fingers gently guide your jaw to turn his way, wrapping you in such an emotional kiss. As if you’d wither away if he didn’t hold you down tight enough.

“Please say it back, darlin’. Please?”

And just like that, he submitted to your wishes and let the mighty dam fall apart. A soft groan you’ve never heard before mused out his parted lips. He’s filling you up so full with a taste of him to the point that it’s leaking out each side of your thighs. A white rim left behind. Tonight he thought that maybe white belonged to you as well, just like black did.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[forever-rogue]

ok ok ok, you wanted angst ideas for Joel so imma throw an idea around. so Joel has something of readers, and Ellie asks him about it, Joel refuses to tell her and they argue, time passes and later that night Joel tell Ellie about reader and how they are no longer alive and the flash back happens and what not and reader knows they’re not gonna live and tells Joel over and over again “ I don’t wanna die. “ and “ don’t let me die. “ and it’s just a sob fest in my mind.

AN | You want pain, I want pain, so we have some pain. It’s going to hurt, so be prepared 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, TLOU canon typical violence (mentions of bites and blood, but nothing descriptive)

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie had always been a curious kid, from the time she was very young.

Her knowledge of the world was limited, and now that she had Joel she liked to learn as much as she could. She was like an information sponge. Her curiosity also pushed her into exploring all sorts of places where she wasn't explicitly allowed. But - to her defense - she was never explicitly told not to explore these places.

She was waiting around for Joel, not wanting to go out and befriend everyone in Jackson just yet. She explored around the house and familiarized herself with what a normal home might look like. This could have been her life if she hadn't been born into this world. 

This could be her life now. With Joel. She liked the thought of that.

"Wow," she was looking through one of the nightstand's drawers when she came across a piece of jewelry. She made a small sound of awe as she pulled out the gold chain, a delicate, yet sturdy thing with a locket hanging off of it. She’d already gotten this far, so she decided that opening it and looking inside wasn’t much of a step further.

It took Ellie a moment to pry it open; the locking mechanism stuck stuff over time. It hadn’t been opened in a number of years. 

“There we are,” she whispered to herself in triumph as she looked inside. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but there was no photo inside like she’s heard there often were. Two sets of crudely carved initials were on the back of the cool metal, no longer clearly discernible due to the passage of time. But inside, there was a small, expertly folded piece of paper - a note - yellowed and faded. Ellie was about to unfold the note, oscillating between putting it all back and pretending she never found it and just reading the note. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, her decision was made for her.

“What the hell are you doing?” The coldness of his voice caused the young girl to jump and drop the necklace to the floor. She turned around to find Joel in the doorway, a furious expression on his face. Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him this mad; maybe never.

“I-I’m sorry,” she scrambled to her feet, shaking her head as if to show him that she really didn’t know anything, “I was just looking around-”

“You were snooping,” he took a few steps over to her and snatched the locket off the floor and closed it back up before shoving it into his pocket, “tell me why you thought it was okay to just look around in things that aren’t yours.”

“I’m sorry,” she felt like crying; the last thing she ever wanted to do was to hurt Joel or upset him, “I was bored and j-just looking around! I shouldn’t have looked at your stuff.”

“No,” he agreed, closing his eyes and letting out an angry breath through his nose, “get out and go to your room.”

“Joel-”

“Now.”

He left no room for discussion and the young girl nodded, feeling her eyes burn with tears. But she was determined not to let him see her cry as she ran down the hall to her room, slamming the door shut. 

Joel sat at the edge of the bed and sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. The necklace felt like it weighed a million pounds in his pocket, practically burning into his skin. In haste, he pulled it out and threw it into the drawer, slamming it shut. 

He felt like crying too; at all the memories the locket brought back, and how he’d talked to Ellie. He wasn’t angry at her, not really, he was just angry at the situation. Not even angry so much as upset. 

A few tears rolled down his cheek and he hastily brushed them away. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. 

He didn’t know if he was ready to face his demons just yet.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ellie remained silently in her room for the rest of the afternoon. Joel had walked by her room about a dozen times, thinking about knocking and apolgozing, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. She could hear him pacing around; the gesture made her feel a little better.

Around dinner time, Joel was in the kitchen and cooking, causing the girl’s belly to rumble with hunger. She didn’t want to go out just yet and get yelled at, so she was content to stay inside until he went to bed. 

Just when she couldn’t stand the delicious smells anymore, she opened the door, ready to go downstairs and apologize until he forgave her. 

He was standing outside the door, hand raised to knock. The two of them looked at each other in surprise for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I made dinner - I’m sure you’re hungry by now.”

She nodded and before he could say anything else, she wrapped her arms around him and held onto him in a tight hug. He let out an almost silent sigh of relief as he held her back, some of worry and anxiety ebbing away. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he stroked her back gently, “let’s not worry about it and put it behind us. Yes?”

“Yes,” she agreed, giving him a small smile that he mirrored in return. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders and led her downstairs. His heart already felt lighter.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dinner was mostly a silent affair, neither of them wanting to push any boundaries, instead exchanging words only over the food. 

But Ellie, wonderful, bright-eyed and curious Ellie, wanted to know the whole story. She wanted to make it better if possible, or at the very least wanted him to know that she was there for him. 

“Will you tell me about it?” she asked, pushing around some of the pasta on her plate, keeping her gaze specifically trained on the plate and not his face.

“About what?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. 

“The locket,” she swallowed thickly, “i-if you want to. I don’t know if you want to talk about it, but I’m here. For you. Here for you.”

“I know you are,” he promised quietly. And he did. He knew the girl was so much more than the cargo he had once considered her. Although truthfully, that hadn’t lasted long. Maybe a few days. 

The two of them fell back into silence before he eventually set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, “before I met you, I, uh, I had a partner.”

Ellie swallowed her bite before leaning, making it a point to show him that he had her full attention, “a partner?”

“A life partner,” he explained and she understood, her eyes widening. Her heart ached at the realization that hit her. Not only had he lost his daughter, lost his business partner in Tess, he’d the person he intended on spending the rest of his days with. She couldn’t even imagine that much pain and grief all at once - or ever, “the locket, it belonged to them.”

“Oh,” she swallowed down the sob she felt welling up, “Joel…I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he promised, his teary eyed gaze meeting hers, “I know, Ellie.”

“The note…”

“It was from me,” he drummed his fingers along the wooden top of the table, “I gave them the locket, with the note.”

“Joel…” Ellie pushed her chair back and padded over to him, wrapping him into a huge the best she could, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” he agreed, closing his eyes, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. He hadn’t said this out loud to anyone before, and it felt like a million pounds had lifted off his shoulders. Letting it out wasn’t going to bring anyone back from the dead, but it did let him get rid of some of his demons, “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“I’ll take care of you too,” she told him softly. His heart felt quiet and content, “I promise.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s heart felt simultaneously like it was about to stop and burst out of his chest from how hard it was beating. He held you, trying to shield you from everything else but him. He took your face in his hands and kept your attention on him. As though there wasn’t a giant bite in your side that was bleeding profusely and coloring your clothes a horrible shade of crimson. He knew you could more than likely feel it. He knew that you were more than aware of what was happening. 

He blamed himself. This was his fault, solely his entire fault all because he turned his attention away from you for a few moments. But no - you had to be brave and have his back instead of the opposite. He was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. But he had failed - he had utterly fucked up. 

And you were paying the ultimate price. 

“I don’t wanna die,” there was blood smeared on your cheek that he swiped away with his thumb. Despite the situation, it felt like the right thing to do. Tears were streaming down your face as you shook your head, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself this was all a bad dream, “don’t let me die. Please. Please, Joel. I don’t wanna go.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he was lying. He knew that you knew he was lying. He didn’t know what else to do. Even if there was limited time left, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud, “you’re going to be okay. Just look at me, baby.”

A small whimper escaped your lips as you squirmed, trying to ease the burning feeling in your side. He choked back the sob that had bubbled up in his throat, but the tears had run down his face too, “it hurts. It hurts.”

“I know,” he couldn’t imagine. He didn’t want to imagine. He wanted to wake up and find that this was all a bad dream. That he hadn’t failed you just liked he’d failed Sarah, “you’re so brave. And strong. And amazing.”

“I don’t wanna go,” you sniffled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself as close to him as possible. You just wanted to feel him one last time, “I don’t want to leave you. Please.”

“You won’t,” he promised, “you’ll always have me, I swear it. I’ve got you, baby.”

He pulled you into his chest, his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. You didn’t care, you just wanted him. You didn’t want him to let go. 

“I love you,” your face was buried into your chest and you could hear the cries he tried to hold down. You could feel his body shaking and trembling as he gently rocked you back and forth, “please don’t let me become one of those things. Please.”

“I would never,” he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing, wishing, and wishing he was in your place. That somehow, magically, he could take it away from you. Instead he knew what he was going to have to do. He never thought he’d be in this position. He never wanted it. He still didn’t, but he wasn’t going to let you down again, “I’ll take care of you. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you closed your eyes as you tried to surround yourself with him and only him. If you were going to go, you wanted the last thing you saw, felt, and heard to be Joel, “I trust you, Joel.”

You trusted him. It almost felt laughable at the moment, but in a horrible, terrible way. You trusted him and look what that had gotten you - death. He inhaled shakily, hating himself every fiber of his being. 

He did this to you. And now he had to do it again. 

He stared straight ahead at the wall, a blanket expression on his face as he pulled the knife out of his pocket. You were still crying, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

Within moments, your body stilled and you were silent. 

He tossed the knife to the side, letting out a yell of pain and frustration. He didn’t even know what to feel anymore; if he even felt anything at all. Joel felt so empty, so hollow. 

He remained there for a while, still and unmoving, praying to whatever deity was out there for forgiveness. Forgiveness for what he let happen to Sarah…and now you. He didn’t know if he deserved anything at all, redemption, forgiveness, or otherwise.

“Joel,” Tess’ voice was the softest and sweetest he’d ever heard. She’d been crying too, clearly shaken up but what had transpired, “we…”

She couldn’t find it in her heart to finish her sentence. She gave him a nod before slowly walking away to give him some space. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look at your body. Instead, he reached around your neck and delicately unclasped your necklace, pulling it off and tucked it away into his pocket. He’d be damned if he let anything happen to it.

It was the last bit of tangible evidence he had of you. Soon you’d be a mere memory; a ghost haunting him. 

He pulled himself out from your lifeless body, refusing to look down at you. If he didn’t see you, it would be easier to pretend that nothing had happened. 

You weren’t dead. You were gone for a bit; he’d see you again one day.

He caught up with Tess and she gave him a nod which he returned.

“Ready?” 

“No,” he admitted, the remaining bits of his heart shattering into tiny pieces, “no.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Joel?” Ellie whispered his name after he finished telling her what happened. He turned to her with a small, sad smile. If anything ever happened to her, he didn’t know if he’d have the heart to go on, “I love you, you know? Even if it’s all sappy and shit, I mean it.”

“I know, kid,” he did. Even if she was a little shit sometimes. She was his little shit, “sappy shit and all. I love you too.”

And he did. Even if it hurt to put more love into the world, to allow himself to feel love and be loved, he was willing to do it again. For her. For himself.

For you. 

[soulofapatrick]

The Truth Comes Out - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You and Joel take your relationship to the next level in more ways that one 

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut (P in v); a little violence (someone getting punched) (again)

Notes: Chapter Five of Forbidden Fruit Series

Y/N’s POV

I though that waking up with Joel wrapped around me is the best way I could have ever woken but boy was I wrong. Waking up to Joel peppering kisses down my neck, rough pads of his fingers caressing skin and his hard dick pressed against my ass is so much better. My heart skips a beat when he presses his hips forwards and mumbles out a sweet but low, “Morning sweet girl.” 

“M-morning baby.” I coo back, breath hitching when his hand grips my hip tightly and his dick slips between my thighs, the head brushing against my clit every small thrust he makes, “J-Joel, please.” I’m choking out, an ache of need beginning as arousal pools between my thighs and coats him. He’s gripping my chin and turning my head to face him, honey eyes dark but asking if this is what I want and I’m nodding, “Please Joel, I need you.” 

“Alright sweetheart,” He agrees and my heart starts pounding in my chest which he can definitely feel as he’s currently cupping that breast in his hand, “Lift your leg for me darlin’.” He murmurs, lips finding mine in the softest kiss I have felt. Lips gentle and pliant, pulling soft sounds from me as I lift my leg back over his thigh and his hand that was gripping my jaw moves to that sensitive bud. He rolls two fingers over it, smiling into the kiss when my hips jerk towards the pleasure before he’s moving his hand lower and lower until he’s lining himself up with me. This is it. 

The first push burns a little but before I can dwell on the uncomfortableness Joel’s fingers are back on my clit and he’s pressing his mouth to my shoulder to silence his groans. His breath is hot against my skin, my hand gripping his forearm that is still moving in gentle, teasing circles while he pushes in a little more. It feels like he’s tearing me apart but in the most delicious way: I can feel every bump and ridge as he slips in, every twitch massaging my sensitive walls until he’s buried to the hilt. Only then does he move his mouth, finding mine again in a gasped and messy kiss that has teeth clacking and it all feels deliriously good. His hand on my breasts moves up to wrap delicately around my neck, squeezing softly as if to ask if it’s okay and all I can do is moan when his hips rock ever so slightly. 

“You okay sweetheart?” Joel’s asking, moving his lips to my shoulder as he pulls out until just the tip is in before he leisurely pushing back in, surprising me with how gentle he is. I’ve seen enough pornos and slept with enough guys to know they usually just being pounding me into the bed but Joel’s being oh so gentle and loving, letting me feel every stroke of his dick against my walls and it adds to the euphoria already building in my stomach. His chest is pressed to my back, feeling the heat radiating off of him and his breath is hot and ragged in my ear as he speeds the pace until the discomfort is completely replaced but pleasure I have not felt before. It’s little overwhelming, everything is Joel. The sweet smell of his woodsy cologne, the saltiness of sweat, the feel of his massaging me in places I never thought possible and the heady scent of sex in the air. It has me pressing my hips down to meet his every thrust and my hands search for his hair, pulling him into a desperate kiss. 

I can taste the beer from last night on his tongue as he swipes it over the seam of my lips, chucking lightly when I eagerly part my lips for him, sounds leaving my throat that would usually embarrass me. His hand is moving to grip my hip tightly as his pace quickens, this slightly different angle means he’s hitting that spongey spot inside every thrust and I can feel my body begin tensing in anticipation, thighs shaking slightly and Joel’s biting down on my bottom lip before he murmurs, “Come for me darlin’.” His voice low and sultry, fingers finding my clit and adding that extra bit of pleasure that sends me over the edge. His hand around my throat tightens when my head flies back, back arching and thighs trying to clamp shut despite being held open by Joel’s thick ones. His names falls from my lips like a broken prayer, my fingers pulling his curls almost painfully and gripping the sheets so tight I wouldn’t be surprised if I rip it. 

Before I can float back down from my high Joel is pressing his hips into me not once, not twice but three times extremely fast and hard before his teeth sink into my shoulder and he lets out a guttural moan that practically has me cumming again. Thick ropes fill me up, my thighs shaking so hard Joel has to pry my leg from around his waist as he holds me against him, hips jerking and stuttering until his head falls into the crook of my neck. The only sounds in the room are our panted breaths and soft sounds from mutual overstimulation but neither of us want to move, feeling connected and whole. 

My phone buzzing breaks the spell and I’m reaching over to grab it off the nightstand, Joel’s arms firmly wrapped around my waist, keeping him buried inside me, and his face pressed between my shoulder blades as I answer the call. 

“Hey Sweet Pea,” Dad’s voice echoes through the phone, “You didn’t message when you got home.” 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Dad,” I facepalm at my own stupidly, “I got back and crashed out immediately!” 

“No worries,” I can hear the amused smile in his voice as he speaks but my heart is dropping when he continues, “I though I could take you out for lunch? I’ll be there in like five minutes baby girl.” 

Dad’s ending the call before I can protest or say it’s not a good idea and I’m glancing back at Joel who is wearing at equally panicked expression. He’s pulling out of me gently despite the rush and panic before we’re both jumping out of bed, me racing to the bathroom to clean myself up and Joel is looking for his clothes. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I hastily clean myself up, trying to ignore my now trembling hands. I can hear Joel rustling around in my room, trying to dress as quickly as possible as his car is still outside. A sense of panic rising in my chest as I know I don’t have enough time to get Joel out of here before Dad gets here and he can’t exactly climb out my bedroom window. 

I quickly slip on a teeshirt and a pair of my ripped jeans, praying that I look presentable enough to face my dad. Before I can fret about it anymore there’s knocking at my front door and I’m having to rush out of the bathroom, smoothing down my hair before opening the door to see Dad standing there with the biggest grin on his face. He pulls me into a hug which I reciprocate despite the fact my heart is beating so fast I think I might faint. He steps inside, and I have no choice but to let him as we usually have a drink at mine before we head out for lunch and I don’t want to raise his suspicions. 

I’m grabbing two cans of Pepsi, one cherry for me and one max for him, and we sit at the kitchen island opposite each other. His eyes are searching my face and I can feel it heat up so I focus on my can and how cold it feels in my hands. We sit in a comfortable silence, listening to the word pass us by outside like usual but Dad’s eyes are drifting down to my neck and I’m realising the hickeys are on full display when he raises an eyebrow at me and exclaims, “You have a boyfriend?” 

There’s no point lying to him, “Yeah Dad, I have a boyfriend,” I’m nodding, keeping my eyes glued to the suddenly very interesting Pepsi Cherry logo, “It’s still fairly new so there won’t be any introd-“ 

A sudden, muffled cry of pain spills from my bedroom, cutting me off and Dad’s on his feet in seconds. I’m hurrying up, knocking my drink over in a rush to get to my bedroom door before him but I make it as far as the bathroom before Dad has swung my bedroom door open. Joel is stood, in just his jeans, leaning on my bed frame as he checks his foot which he just smacked on the box at the bottom of my bed.

Joel’s face pales as he finds my Dad standing there, his eyes wide in panic and he freezes, his hand still holding his injured foot. Dad’s gaze sweeps over Joel’s state of undress and the undeniable hickeys and scratches that tell him everything he needs to know and before I can react Dad is charging. My heart is in my throat when I race forwards, hearing the crunch when Dad’s fist collides with Joel’s cheek. 

“DAD NO!” I’m screaming, shoving myself between them and crying out when Dad can’t stop his second swing, catching me with a sharp slap across the cheek. I feel blood on my lip when I run my tongue over it. 

A mixture of emotions cross Dad’s face as he glances at  his hand in horror and there’s still traces of anger and disgust in his eyes before he spits out, “He’s taking advant-“

“No Dad, I started this.” I cut him off, keeping Joel behind me with a hand on his hip in reassurance for both of us. Dad’s eyes soften slightly as he takes in my words but he’s still seething with anger. I can feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, and I’m acutely aware of Joel’s presence behind me. He’s silent but I can feel his body trembling with his own anger and I know guilt which makes me grip his hip tighter as I address my Dad, “Dad please, we can talking about this but not with you this angry. You need to calm down.” 

Dad’s staring, expression unreadable before he’s finally sighing, his gaze flickering between me and Joel before he’s grumbling, “Fine.” With a sharp nod, “But we’re talking about this, and Joel’s leaving. Now.” 

All I can do is nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes but I blink them back, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. This is not going to be an easy conversation and I was hoping Joel would be with me when we would have to tell Dad, he was never meant to find out like this. Looking at Joel I know one thing is for certain: I am not losing him no matter how Dad takes it. I’ve wanted this for so long and now that I have it I’m not letting it go as I know it’s cliche but there is no one for me after Joel. Not now, not ever. 

Dad’s turning swiftly and stomps his way back to my living room while I turn around to face Joel. His head is bowed and he turns his head away from my when I cup his cheeks in my hands gently, making me almost snap as I speak, “No, you’re not doing this to me Joel.” My voice is shaky and cracks a little and he swallows hard, “Joel fucking Miller will you look at me.” He lets me lift his face enough to meet my gaze and I think my heart shattered then and there as his honey eyes are dull and there are tears glistening so I draw his face closer to mine. Our lips a hairs breadth away as I whisper, “I am not losing the good in my life now that I’ve got it, okay?” 

“But-“ I shut him up with a kiss, pouring all my emotions into it. It’s desperate, filled with longing, fear and sadness, our lips moving together in a low and passionate dance. It’s as if we are trying to say everything we want to say but can’t find the words for. My hands are caressing his jaw and in his hair, pulling him closer to me as if I could fuse our bodies together and his hands are on my hips, holding me tight against him. In this moment, nothing else matters. Not the prickled stinging from my cheek or the fear of my dad’s disapproval. All that exists is Joel, in my arms, kissing me back with just as much love and passion as me. 

Dad’s clearing his throat and we’re reluctantly separating, Joels fingers lingering on my arm as I grab his shirt off the floor for him. I watch as he slips into it, feeling melancholy despite the fact we both know we’ll find our ways back to each other. It’s like we’re magnets and can’t drift apart and I would happily live in his orbit forever but Dad is clearing his throat again. Joel is grabbing his shoes and jacket and I walk him to the door, Dad’s eyes boring holes into us as I open the door for Joel, expecting him to just leave but he surprises me. I think he surprises both of us, not really processing what he’s doing when he steals a very tender kiss from me before whispering, “I love you, Darlin’.”

It’s as if with the quiet click of the front door behind him the ‘d’ in darling has become suddenly capitalised. It’s not just a pet name now. No, I am his darling and he loves me. I love him too but he was walking away before I could even comprehend saying it back and now I’m left with a mixture of the sinking feeling in my stomach and my heart soaring as I join Dad on the opposite end of the sofa.

I’m taking a deep breath, glancing over at Dad who is just staring at my split lip that he caused with guilt in his eyes. I know he doesn’t even know where to begin so I do, “I was the one who instigated it all Dad.” 

“He’s fourteen years older than you,” Dad replies, eyes finding mine and silently pleading for me to help him understand before he throws his judgement about again, seeing where it landed moments ago, “And he’s my best friend.”  I nod slowly, understanding his concerns, he is my Dad after all. We only have each other and I know it must be hard for him now especially as I have my own place and I’m living my own life. Dad’s speaking again before I can say anything in response, scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly, “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Y/N. You’re my little girl and I want you to be happy, but I can’t help but worry.”

“I know Dad,” I say softly, reaching out to take his hand, “I know it’s a lot to take in and that he’s your best friend but it’s exactly that Dad. He’s Joel, and you know him like the back of your hand almost, you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. You know him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Dad sighs again, more in defeat this time. I nod again, feeling relief wash over me as he seems to be starting to come around to this, “And you’re right, you’re not a little girl anymore. You’re an adult who can see who you want.” It’s like a weight has lifted off my shoulders and I’m practically throwing myself across the couch, hugging him tightly and finally letting the floodgates open. Dad’s hugging me back, telling me how sorry he is for how he reacted and that he would never do anything like it again. 

We just sit there for who knows how long, hugging each other and apologising before Dad finally pries me away, holding me at arms length, “Come on, knowing Joel he has probably burnt a hole in his carpet from all that pacing. Let me drive you home.” 

I don’t know if Dad meant to say home but the word fills me with joy and surprise at how well Dad’s coping with this. I’m so happy I just shove my feet into my shoes, ignoring the way Dad lightly scolds me for not undoing the laces as I’ll break the heels of them if I keep doing that but I barely hear him. I’m grabbing my phone and Dad’s eyes flick to my duffel bag, my eyes widening but I agree silently and rush to my room to shove random clothes in there for me to take. 

As we get into the car, I can feel the tension in the air between Dad and I start to dissipate. He puts on some music and we drive in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging glances and small smiles. I can tell he's still processing everything, but he's making an effort to be supportive and I'm grateful for that. The car ride is smooth, with the occasional stop at a traffic light or a turn here and there. The sky is starting to darken, rainclouds looming overhead and threatening a downpour. I take a deep breath, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement as we get closer to the Miller's house. 

When we finally arrive, I feel a knot form in my stomach. Dad parks the car, and we both get out. He grabs my duffel bag, handing it to me and pulling me into a crushing hug before grumbling, “Dinner at mine, Saturday with just Joel.” 

“Deal.” I’m nodding, letting him get back into his car before heading up the path to knock on the door but it swings open before I can even knock. Joel is standing there, anxiety written across his now bruising features and I’m throwing myself into his arms, slamming my lips to his in a breathtaking kiss that has him stumbling back before his hands find my hips to steady us. 

As soon as my lips touch Joel’s it’s like a rush of relief and love floods through me as I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders, pulling him down closer, as if to make up for the time we lost during our brief separation. The kiss deepening and I can feel his lips moving against mine with eh same intensity, a sense of urgently there as if we’re trying to convert all the emotions we could express before. 

We’re breaking apart when Dad honks his horn before driving off and I’m hiding my face in Joel’s broad chest, laughing almost giddily from the relief of Dad not disowning me and the anxiety of our dinner this Saturday. But for now, one thing is certain: I am not losing Joel and he is not losing me, those two thoughts giving me the confidence to whisper "I love you too, Joel,” His hold on me only tightening as he hears my words, face burying in my hair as he beams before he’s mumbling into my hair:“Let me show you how much I love you…” 

“Horny bastard.” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.” 

---------------

Chapter One ⇢ Forbidden Fruit

Chapter Two ⇢ A Moment of Clarity

Chapter Three ⇢ Acceptance and Love

Chapter Four ⇢ Stripped Down

Chapter Five ⇢ 

Chapter Six ⇢ Coming Soon

--------------

The Last of Us Masterlist

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[apesoformythoughts]

“A true manager is closer to a housewife than to a little corporal. She rarely ‘takes center stage,’ yet thanks to her there is a welcoming scene where the ‘actors’ can play. She does not wear their colorful costumes, but she washed, pressed, and mended them and put them on hangers in their dressing room. Hence that pervasive sweetness in a home: when the laundry is in its place, when the parquet floor shines, when the table is set and the aroma from the simmering dish tickles your nostrils, when your clothes are clean and the color and fabric of the curtains and the sofas have been chosen with flawless taste; in short, when every corner of the house shows signs of delicate attentions that change a square box into a home where it is good to live and to converse… Isn't this a perfect imitation of God, who formed the earth and made it; he established it; he did not create it a chaos, he formed it to be inhabited (Is 45:18)?

Thus, at the beginning and at the end of the cycle of his apparitions, in the discovery of his absence at the tomb as well as in the vision of his Ascension on the Mount of Olives, the Risen One effaces himself before his disciples, and he effaces himself because he goes to prepare a place for them and, afterward, another coming (Jn 14:3).”

— Fabrice Hadjadj: The Resurrection [Résurrection, mode d’emploi; transl. Michael J. Miller]

[hederasgarden]

Can you please write more miles fics? I love el royale and I love miles and your fic is like the only one of him! I love it and your other fics so please write more haha🤍🤍

I believe a few other writers are working on some stories with Miles. What would you like to see me write for him? Send me your thoughts dear readers!

I do have one fic I started for Miles, but it’s much darker than the content I normally write. I wasn’t sure how it would be received by you guys. I have the first chapter sketched out below, but didn’t want to continue if there wasn’t an audience for it.

Tell me what you think!

Summary: Miles has done a lot of bad things in his life but saving you isn’t one of them.

Pairing: Miles Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 929

Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Violence, kidnapping, reference to drug use,  implied forced marriage, and physical abuse. 

A/N: Thank you @callsign-phoenix for looking over this.

It’s close to midnight and the hotel is empty. Miles watches the clock, only half-listening to the warble of the tv in the background. In another ten minutes, he can lock up for the night and return to the maintenance closet. He touches the crook of his elbow on instinct, thumb rubbing at the tender patch of skin while he stares at the parking lot.

Thunder cracks across the sky and the lightning that follows is bright enough to make it look like daylight briefly. Rain comes next, pelting down in a thick torrent and continues for a while before easing into a tolerable shower. It’s then Miles sees the black car idling in the closest parking spot. Internally he sighs, knowing this is going to delay his evening plans.

A tall, thin man exits the car and hurries to the passenger side to pull you from the seat. Miles knows something’s wrong the moment he sees your face. Although you’re both wet from the rain it’s clear to him that you’re not shaking from the cold alone. You’re scared. The man beside you has a vice-like grip on your neck, his fingers pressing hard into the delicate skin of your throat. Your dress is torn at the shoulder and your gaze is trained on the scuffed shoes you wear. There’s a cut on your lip that’s bleeding sluggishly.

“Need a room,” he grits out.

Miles stares at you until the man slams his fist on the table. You both flinch and his attention darts back to the older man.

“If you can sign your name on the ledger first,” he says quietly, hands shaking.

“No name, just a fucking room kid,” he barks.

When he fishes a 50-dollar bill out of his wallet Miles sees the handle of a revolver tucked into the man's waistband. He turns away, gathering the change. When he tries to hand it back the man stares at him. Miles falters. It’s too big a tip and Miles knows he’s being paid for his silence, to look the other way. Plenty of guests have tipped him to ignore things – the women they bring to the hotel who aren’t their wives or the drugs they ask him to get, but this time when he takes the money there’s a pit in the bottom of his stomach. Miles doesn’t want to help this man, especially not once you look up at him with tear-filled eyes. He swallows hard and looks at the counter.

“Do you want a separate room for your…” he trails off, glancing at you again.

“We’ll share. Just make sure the room has two beds and be quick about it."

Miles selects a room on the Nevada side. He already knows as he hands over the key that he’s going straight to the corridor to watch. To make sure you’re going to be okay.

“Come on girl,” the man says, dragging you out with him.

Miles waits until you’re both outside to hurriedly make his way to the hidden corridor. He flicks on the speaker and waits. It’s not long until the door opens and the man shoves you into the room hard enough to make you stumble and fall to your knees. Tears spill over your cheeks and you struggle to stand. Miles can see now there’s a long cut on your leg. It’s bleeding freely, running down your calf and disappearing into your shoe.

“Get up,” he barks, grasping your arm and jerking you towards the bed. You don’t struggle, looking entirely defeated as he forces you to sit down on the edge. “Don’t move or I’ll pop you in the face again. Your future husband isn’t exactly happy you ran away the night before the wedding so he doesn't care if you're a little busted up when I bring you back.”

“Please,” you whisper, voice trembling so hard Miles has to strain to hear your words. “I can’t go back.”

The man ignores your pleas, cuffing you to the bedpost. For a second Miles thinks the worst, his heart in his throat, but then the man steps away and riffles through his bag. You’re crying harder now, chin pressed to your chest. You look so helpless and scared. He has to do something. The police are out of the question, they don’t come here anymore. Either too scared of his bosses or paid well to look the other way.

No, it’s going to have to be him. Miles closes his eyes, releasing a harsh breath. He’s scared, for you and of the man, but mostly he’s terrified of the dark part that lives inside him, the thing he's tried to keep buried since leaving Vietnam.

When he opens his eyes again you’ve turned on your side, facing the mirror. Even though he knows you’re looking at your own reflection it feels like you’re staring straight at him. Asking for help. Miles can see his own likeness in the window too, the glass reflecting it back and overlaying yours. He thinks about all the horrible things he’s done. The men he’s killed during the war and the work he does for his bosses at the El Royale. You’re nothing like him or the people that frequent here. He can see your goodness, your light and how it could so easily be snuffed out.

You start crying again and the look on your face makes something awful and dark expand in Miles’ chest.

He’s going to save you. No matter the cost to himself.

✥

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@abby-johnson04 @Whoredevores @ilovemuppets @nobody7102 @aegyoallday

[thirtysevenodddogs]

Teenage Dream Ch9

MATURE CONTENT 18+

I'd made a pretty cool new cover image for this chapter, but it didn't fly with Tumblr so I'm re-using this one!

Pairings: Main-Joel Miller x Reader/You (reader has a name)

Secondary- Joel x Tess / Mentioned- Ellie x Riley, Tommy x Maria

Fic Warnings: 30/y Age Difference, Joel is 48, Reader is 18, Underage for Ch1 (reader is 17), Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Anal Play, Use of Sex Toys, Outdoor Sex, Squirting, Sex Tapes, Infidelity, Rough Sex, Spitting, Face Slapping.

Word Count: 9k+

AU-No Cordyceps Outbreak/Sarah is alive

BFD!Joel Miller

Joel Miller is having an affair with his daughters' best friend.

You can read the rest of this fic in my AO3 -> In Madness

Everything seems to just fall into place, and it feels good and right and perfect.

Wednesday morning you wake up and after getting ready for school and saying goodbye to your parents when they leave for work, you pack.

Small things, old things, things your parents won't notice are gone because they haven't been used at your house in ages, placemats and cutlery, a tiny pot and two small-is pans, two plates from a set that was mostly lost during a renovation and your mom won't use, even just for the three of you, because is now mismatched, the salad plate is gone, so are most of the bread plates, and there are only 4 soup bowls left out of the 6 there used to be, all the dinner plates are fine tho and the design is pretty, bone china with a hand-painted flower trim, they're just not good enough for your restauranteur parents anymore.

You grab a couple of glasses from the same corner of the pantry where all the rejects lie, they're cute, crystal and peach colored, which you think will match nicely with the plates you chose, and you set everything carefully into a box and load it onto your car.

And you're excited because it feels like you're building something, you can see a brief glimpse into the future, even if just for that day, having dinner with Joel using the things you chose for YOUR place, cooking meals in that pot and those pans, setting up the little dining space on the kitchen island and just being with him.

And you know he wants that too, he basically said as much when you had sent him those photos the night before, after the charity event, of the bite mark on your breast and that toy still inside of you, when you'd told him how you felt, what you wanted, and how you wished there was more evidence of him on you, of your love.

You bring your hand up to cup your breast over the crisp white shirt of your uniform, and you bite your lip at the dull ache that still lingers there. You can picture the mark he left, an almost perfect circle of green and purple bruised skin, framing the delicate little nub of your right nipple with two rows of mostly neat, straight teeth, only a tiny line out of place, where one of Joel's bottom teeth is crooked just so.

💕J: 'So beautiful baby'

He'd replied and after you sent him the second one, of you laying in bed completely bare with your pretty toy still inside of you, he had called you for the second time, and he'd talked you through getting it out and through getting you off; It had been so incredible, and when he said he loved you and that he couldn't wait to see you, to BE with you... you knew he could see it too.

Your future together.

That day, after school, you rush to the apartment and he's already there, he makes love to you in the shower on his lunch break, his hands gripping your hips so tight as he enters you from behind that you can actually feel the sting of your skin breaking under his nails, and little red-ish rivulets run down your legs staining the water.

He makes love to you again in the living room while he's "on an errand" from work, and he kisses at the tiny half-moon punctures on your hips and tells you how sorry he is, and asks you to forgive him, he makes you come eight times total, with his fingers and his mouth, and his cock.

And in between waiting for him, you start to fill up the space with the things you brought for you to share and build upon.

He makes love to you for a third time later that night, after his work day is over and just before you both need to rush back home, he takes you on your back, in your bed, deep and slow and he sends you home with whispered promises of tomorrow and that tiny little toy back inside your body.

Thursday, you pack a few more things, little trinkets that decorate your bedroom, and a few pieces of clothing, mostly short skirts and soft tops, tight dresses and cute little panties, no bras... things you know he'll like.

That afternoon you learn about edging and boob jobs, and that Joel really REALLY likes it when you suck on his balls.

He comes all over you, so hard and soooo much, thick and sticky and hot, it's the sexiest thing you've ever done, and the way he looks at you like you're the most wonderful thing he's ever seen, it makes you feel almost powerful, lying in bed covered in his cum.

He asks you if he can take a photo and after you say yes, he shows you how to move and how to pose for him and he showers you with praise for your beauty and how you are "...such a good girl, baby".

He films you giving him a blowjob, the second one you give that day, and when he comes, this time into your mouth and down over your chest, he tells you that you are beautiful and that he loves you "...so much pretty girl, You're so fucking perfect" and then he cleans you up in the shower, careful and patient and sweet, and he trails soft tiny kisses and small little love bites down your neck and over your torso, leaving little marks all the way down to your mound.

It's the most beautiful thing.

On Friday, he sends you a message early in the morning just as you're stepping out of the shower to get ready for school, a sleepy selfie leaning over on his side, still in bed. He's shirtless and he looks so gorgeous, his wavy hair fluffy and all over the place, and there's a full dimpled smile on his face.

Your heart beats so hard you think it might just come out of your chest.

💕J: 'Can't wait to wake up with you baby. See you tonight. I love you.'

You look at the fading bite mark on your breast and the trail of hickeys that go all the way down from your neck to your belly and stop right at your perfectly trimmed pubic hair, and the small half-moon shaped indents of his fingernails on your hips. All of it proof of his desire, of his love.

It's everything you never knew you wanted.

You're branded and claimed.

And all HIS.

Joel is in pain.

After he snaps the photo and sends it to you, he flops back down onto the mattress with a grunt, his body is protesting every single movement he makes, his thighs burn, his shoulders are throbbing and his lower back is stiff, he feels like he ran a marathon with no training and no warm-up and THEN, at the finish line, he got run over by a semi.

You are so beautiful and perfect and enthusiastic, and he really does love everything about you, from your curves to your scent to the way you taste, and the way you make him feel like he's untouchable and invincible when he makes you come undone. You make him feel strong and virile and YOUNG, every time your body is perched on top of his, every time your legs spread open to let him in, every single time you let him bend you over... Fucking fireworks.

Right now tho, he does not feel young, not in the least. There are no fireworks.

He swears even his eyeballs hurt when he opened his eyes at exactly 7 am, his alarm going off with an incessant harrowing ringing.

"Fuuuuck!" he groans, actually whining a little, low in his throat as he brings his heavy arms up to press against his eyes, willing the ache to subside. "I'm too fucking old for this shit" he murmurs into his empty bedroom and sighs, putting his arms back down and gathering as much strength as he can to just sit up and shuffle to the edge of the matres.

And he wasn't exaggerating, he really does feel like death, a pinch on his back forces a cry out of him and his hand shoots back to press against that spot just above his ass where he's sore the most.

He stands up slowly, both of his knees making alarmingly loud cracking noises, and don't get him wrong, he's in good shape, he may not work out in the traditional sense, but construction work is no joke and even tho his job is mostly managerial and administrative nowadays, he still keeps himself active on every site he works, but this? This is the kind of pain and soreness that comes from actual strenuous activity, like weight lifting and running laps, and... having ridiculously acrobatic sex with an incredibly flexible and exuberant eighteen-year-old for three days straight.

He's pretty sure he's broken his personal record of how many times he could make a woman come in a single session.

He stretches and sighs at the small relief it gives him when his back and his neck crack, more intentionally than his knees had done, and he just stands there for a minute, he takes a deep breath and lets it go, and he feels every single one of the thirty years he has on you, weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He shakes his head in resignation and grabs a bottle of Naproxen from his dresser. He throws his head back and swallows 4 tablets dry, and he knows it's more than the recommended dose, but he NEEDS it.

The pain finally starts to ebb away around noon, but he has bigger problems by then, and lately, he's been wondering if Tess's dad is actually right and if he's just fucking incompetent at his job, because it seems like he keeps hiring morons who do more damage than any good at all, and it fucking pisses him off because he had a plan, he'd made a promise, and now that's broken.

The day goes from bad to worse when the client sends in the budget report and tells him to start making cuts, they're already shorthanded as it is thanks to the fuck up with the electric last month, but there's really no way around it, he's already changed to the cheapest suppliers he could find that still had top quality materials, and he's made as many deals as he thinks he'll be able to do, in fact, he's pretty sure that if he asks for another "friends discount" he's gonna start losing friends... Fast.

By the time he finally manages to crunch the numbers enough that he only has to let go of 3 people, it's already half past 11 pm, he's tired and worn out and the aching in his body is back with a force, all he wants to do is go home take a hot shower and have a drink before crawling into bed next to you.

And he's so out of it and weary that he doesn't realize until he's parking into his own driveway that when he thought of home and you, he was picturing you at his house, in his bed waiting for him, and not that stupid fucking apartment.

"Goddamn it!"  he hits his steering wheel so hard he bends his wrist, and that's just another ache to add to the growing list, he still wants a drink so he might as well add something to the place since you've taken it up on yourself to start decorating, he leaves the engine running and gets out of the truck just long enough to take a piss and grab two unopened whiskey bottles from his liquor cabinet.

When he gets to the apartment it's close to one, and he tries to be as quiet as he can when he opens the door, he's not even sure you're going to be there at all, he had already fucked up by not making it by 6 like he had promised you.

And he didn't know he was actually holding his breath until it all comes out in a rush when he opens the door and... there you are.

He feels his heart shatter at what he finds, the kitchen island is perfectly set up for two, with the pretty plates and glasses you had shown him so proudly on Wednesday, and there's even a tiny vase holding flowers, he sets down the whiskey and his keys right next to it and when he walks further in, he can see you more clearly.

So fucking gorgeous, lying on your belly on the sofa, he can't see your face yet, but your toned shapely legs are fully exposed, the little dress you're wearing riding up your thighs enough to even give him a peek at your perfect perky ass, clad in lacy panties.

There's a sharp pang deep inside his chest, because you clearly had been waiting for him, and he can picture you so eager and excited, and as he breaths in he notices that the apartment has a faint sweet and savory scent to it, and looking at the perfectly set counter top he can gander a guess that you didn't even eat whatever it is that you had cooked, and it's all his fault.

You are so fucking perfect, and he couldn't even give you this one night, your first full night in here, together, and he ruined it.

"I'm so sorry baby" he whispers as he moves closer to you, and he really should take a shower, he's all dusty and covered in grime, but you just look so fucking tempting, innocent and beautiful and soft, and he owes you an apology.

As he reaches you, he's overcome with emotion at how striking you really are, your cherub-like face is illuminated by the light coming in from the balcony window, and you look almost ethereal, relaxed, and still in your sleep.

Your eyelashes are so long and dark and your lips so plump and shiny, so fucking pretty. The spray of freckles under your left eye and the beauty mark that sits at the tip of your nose, make you look almost unreal like he made you up in his head. Your face drives him crazy, even more so than your body, because you truly are the prettiest woman he has ever laid his eyes on.

And he wonders if it is that all of your beauty has only just blossomed, or if maybe he just never allowed himself to notice it before because you were still a child when he met you. That first night four months ago when you came to him. you had opened his eyes and it was like a switch flipped and gone was the child, and in her place stood a fully formed woman, virtuous and shameless, begging to be taken by him.

He wants to take you now, he always feels hungry when he's with you, never sated, never full, he just wants to take and take and take once more, the minute he'd seen you lying there, even among his regret at failing you, his cock had still stirred to life, and it was now hard and aching, throbbing inside his pants as he reaches out to caress your legs with his fingertips, dragging them all the way up to the edge of that pretty dress, and he bends down, in front of you now, to kiss at your forehead softly.

"Baby" He whispers, pushing your hair back out of your face, kissing your cheek next "Baby wake up", he nuzzles his way down to your lips, and not even the tightness on his back or the dull ache of his knees as he slowly goes down into a squat, stop him from taking your lips with his "Jenna" he murmurs against them, and hearing your name seems to do the trick as you start to respond, your lips pressing back against his, his hand now completely under your dress groping at your ass.

"Hi sweetheart" he pulls back just as your eyes flutter open and you smile at him, still way too lost in your sleep, but it's enough for him to take as an acknowledgment of his presence when you kiss him again "Hey pretty girl" his voice is still low and soft as he kisses your cheek again and slowly gets up from the floor, leaning over kissing your shoulder now, moving the strap of your dress just a little bit to kiss at a beauty mark and then a little lower on your back.

You groan as he kneels on the couch behind you, and spread your legs slightly just to give him enough space, a little more awake now, conscious of his intentions as you look at him over your shoulder, even if you haven't spoken yet.

He stares back into your sparkling sleepy eyes as he pushes your dress up higher over your back and cups your ass "I'm sorry I'm so late baby" he pleads with you, lowering his head to kiss at the small of your back and then lower still, planting his lips atop the lacy edge of your panties, his fingers digging a little between your cheeks, spreading you open so the material falls in between the mounds of flesh, so he can bring his tongue over it and as close to your tight little asshole as he can.

"Aahh... Mmmm" You moan and turn your head to look at him again, but you don't tell him to stop, you just get comfortable, and it is so, sooo beautiful how open you've become to the pleasures he's shown you, he loves eating your ass, and you enjoy it more and more each time. You spread your legs wider as he pushes more firmly against you through the soft green lace "Mmm I'm gonna take your panties off baby, wanna taste you" He groans, and you just lift your hips as he does, pulling the material off and down your legs slowly, leaving a trail of little kisses as he goes, letting them drop to the carpet before diving back between those ripe, tight curves, to savor you.

And it's fucking delicious, more than any meal you could prepare, eating you may not be sustenance for his body, but it is for his wanton soul.

Eating you feeds his lust.

You're panting and moaning at each swipe of his tongue, his hands gripping your thighs now holding you open and his tongue dipping down to explore your dripping core, licking at your essence before going back to run little circles around your tight furl.

It feels so good, the heaviness of sleep is still all around you, and his hands are so rough, yet they touch you with such tenderness, it feels dreamy like you're floating and he's the ocean crashing into you while still cradling your body in his waves.

He groans as he pulls off after a few minutes, and you haven't come yet, you're not even close, but everything feels incredible, like nothing you have done before, it's slow and tender and soft and loving and it makes you feel warm and wanted, he starts trailing kisses over the curve of your butt, whispering about how sweet you taste, how amazing you are, and how sorry he is for making you wait, he makes his way back up kissing over your back through the soft cotton of your dress, all the way up to your shoulder and you can feel the heat of his body as he shifts and moves, not pressing down on you, not yet, but still close covering you completely.

"Turn over baby", he says right against your ear, sucking on it for just a second before moving back down to kiss your shoulder, and then he's not over you anymore, and you hear the soft metallic hiss of his zipper followed by the heavy thud of his jeans hitting the ground, and you're still cradled in those waves in between sleep and awake, your body heavy and warm and comfortable, so you look at him over your shoulder and you pout a little, spreading your legs, still lying prone on that comfy spot.

He snorts softly and chuckles "Come on sleepy girl", he says softly, returning to the couch, his hand going down to play where you're the hottest, a long thick finger entering your body "Mmm... " you moan and roll your hips slow, just once and he laughs again, you don't really feel like using your voice, everything is perfect and quiet and still, even his voice is a barely there whisper every time he speaks.

"Mmm you're so beautiful my love" his body is pressing down on you now and he's speaking into your ear again, his finger deep inside of you, moving softly but never pulling out, rubbing at the spot inside that he knows how to find so well, to make you go crazy "Let me see you baby, turn over for me" he kisses your cheek and then your lips when you turn your head towards him "Let me have you sweet girl"

And you do, he helps you turn around onto your back, taking his finger out of you tenderly, and shifting slowly and carefully so he's right between your legs still, and as you settle back into that warm spot, he takes your mouth in a deep kiss, bringing both of his hands to your shoulders, to slide the straps of your dress down, pulling at it until you're left completely bare but for the flimsy material bunched up around your waist.

You gasp as he licks at your breast and sucks a nipple into his mouth, his fingers now rubbing your clit, everything is still soft and slow and clouded in that dreamlike feeling, "Oooh..." you moan when you start to feel the heat bubbling up in your belly, your hands wrapped around his neck, caressing his face and his hair as he moves lower and lower, your belly tightening and your first orgasm of the night washing over you just as his mouth opens over your pussy and he sucks you in "Aahh... " you're breathing hard and labored now, your hand still on his head, and he's eating you out like a man that's been starving.

You come again, a sharp little gush of liquid squirting into his mouth while his tongue is inside of you, and that has been happening all the time now, at least twice a day he's made you squirt, soft and small spurts like this some times, hard and endless streams others.

It's incredible every time.

You're beyond moans now, groaning and crying in ecstasy as he makes you come again, and he speaks softly into you, his lips still against your opening, right before he makes his way back up your body, following that trail of the fading marks of his love, sucking and nibbling, almost like he's making sure they'll stay there.

And if you could you'd will them to become permanent.

To be forever on you, as you are forever his.

"Oh fuck yes! Love this pretty pussy" he groans against you as another little spurt of the sweetest ambrosia gushes into his mouth, your lips down here are so lovely, flushed, and puffy from his endless ministrations, and he can see the pulsing and clenching of your core from all the stimulation, it's beautiful, you're beautiful and he WANTS more.

He wants it all.

He moans as he starts kissing his way up your body, your fleshy thighs first, right where they cradle his head, and then up higher to your hip, and he follows the pink-ish purple trail of bruises on your skin, his cock leaking at the sight, it had actually gotten harder when he first flipped you over and saw his marks on your skin, so fucking pretty.

He comes to a stop right at the first one, just over your mound and he sucks down on it, making the mark darker, and it gives him a little bit of a thrill, because when he looks just off to the side, he can see that little smiley face tattoo that you share with his daughters, and he knows deep down that what he does next is a little fucked up because he does it out of jealousy. He bites down around that smiley face and sucks, hard, almost knawing at the skin, and he wishes he could replace their mark with his, he wishes that your skin belonged only to him.

After he makes sure all his little marks are reignited, he finally reaches your lips, and you're still so pliant and lazy with sleep, but you kiss him back so eagerly. "I love you so much pretty girl" he whispers, and each time he says it, it rings more true. He swallows your moan into his mouth as he brings a hand down between your bodies to position himself just right, and with one hard thrust, he's inside of you.

Half dressed and still covered in dust, you take him in, you let him have you.

It's like nothing he has ever felt before, it's so slow and nice and warm, your kisses are sweet and sloppy, his hands take their time exploring your body and yours grip at his hair and his shoulders and his arms, and it's so different, he wishes he had the right words to describe it but he can't find them.

Beautiful, perfect and amazing, even monumental... all of them inadequate.

The way you look right now, it's so breathtaking he actually stops just for a moment to take it all in, his arm holding your leg up over his shoulder, his hips pushed into you so close, his cock so deep inside your heat, you open your pretty doe eyes and look straight into his and he needs to make sure it's real, that YOU'RE real and that he isn't just making it all up in his head.

His hand reaches out to touch your face, his fingertips just barely gracing your lips, and it almost feels like reverence.

He starts thrusting in earnest now, lowering his body over yours to cover you completely, he needs to feel you as close as he can, have as much of you as he can get, and it feels so urgent, even in this quiet glorious moment where the only sound that permeates the room is his flesh slapping against yours, his harsh breath and your moans. He touches his forehead to yours, never breaking eye contact.

All the aches, and pain, and the anger and frustrations of the world outside are gone, he doesn't feel tired, he doesn't feel old. You've made him whole again, new, just like you do every single time he's with you.

You are divinity wrapped in innocent youth and sinful pleasure, and this is his time of worship.

And he does, worship you, from inside out and head to toe, he lavishes all the love he never thought he'd get to have or give again onto you, on your back, and on your knees, and from below, your body moving and arching and bending into every position so perfectly, so beautifully. You give yourself over to him so wholly.

He loses his shirt at some point, and he tears your dress off of your body, your fully naked forms coming together over and over and over, he's never had sex like this, never felt like he was melding into another person so completely, he has no idea where his body ends and yours begins.

You are both now covered in sweat, and the heat feels almost stifling, but he can't stop, he doesn't want it to end, he's never felt this good.

The stirring of his orgasm starts rolling from the tips of his toes, and it's almost like he can feel every single muscle spasm, his toes are curling and his knees are locked, his thighs and his ass start to tense up and he's thrusting into you so hard now. Your moans had long turned into whines and whimpers, and your pussy has been clenching, dripping, and gushing almost nonstop, your nipples are stiff and peaked as he sucks on them, and he knows he's soo so close.

Hoe doesn't want to break the spell of the deep intimate silence with his voice, so instead he takes your mouth in his as he reaches his peak and you both cry in the brief agony of ecstasy as he spills inside of you, long hot spurts, deep into your core, as much as he can, as long as he can give it to you.

He pushes all the way in then, rolling his hips against yours until his dick starts to go soft and he can't thrust anymore, he stays there, cradled in your arms, his head against your chest as you both try to catch your breath.

It's the sweetest embrace.

You wake up the next morning wrapped up in his arms, his hand softly cupping your breast and one of his muscular legs thrown over both of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the back of your neck, and the weight of his flaccid sex resting against your thigh.

He is so much taller than you, broad and strong, and you feel so safe in his arms, warm and protected and loved.

You wiggle a little and turn over, he groans and shifts his body to lie flat on his back, an arm stretched out under your pillow, and the hand that was holding you now resting on his bare stomach, he's so fucking good-looking, you feel so lucky some times that a man like him wants you the way he does, and you love just staring at him.

He's told you a couple of times how he likes to watch you when you sleep, and right now, you can understand why. When he's still you can take your time and really, REALLY look at him, his face relaxed in sleep, with none of his usual frown lines marring it, his beautiful pouty lips slightly parted as he snores softly, his sun-kissed skin so soft and perfect, a smattering of freckles over his shoulders and his well-defined chest, even the little tufts of coarse hair around his nipples and running down from his navel and over the tiny little pouch of his soft belly are beautiful to you.

And even tho sometimes it doesn't show, right now you can really see his age, in the rough patches of his labor-worn skin, the wrinkles around his eyes, and the salt and pepper color of his hair... ALL of his hair.

He is so hot though, ever since he had moved to town with Sarah and Ellie, you could hear women whispering and gossiping about him, girls at school, ladies at church, even your mom had once mentioned how 'Those Miller men sure have good genes...' when you'd run into Joel and Tommy at the grocery store, which from her was as much an admission of attraction as anything, she'd laughed that funny fake laugh she always used in public when they had greeted you, and in a hushed joke whisper she'd told you not to tell your father that she'd said that.

And now you get to have what they all want, and it makes you giddy because you know that he wants you back just as badly.

You're careful, as you lay a hand over his chest, and slowly, so slowly make your way down, your eyes briefly looking up at his face just to make sure he's not awake yet, and then back down to follow the path your hand is taking, and you bite your lip as you reach that flat skin at his hips, framed by the hint of a V shape that tells of a body that was once very toned and is now beautifully comfortable, you can see the shadow of well-groomed pubic hair under the crisp white sheet, and the shape of his penis, still soft but not any less impressive.

Even though you don't really have much to compare it to, you know he's much larger than the boys you'd been with before, thicker too, and you start to feel hot just at the memory of when he first entered your body, in his bed, kneeling behind you and reassuring you as he pushed in slowly, and how full you had felt once he was all the way in.

You lick your lips as you pull at the sheet to reveal more of him, you can already feel the moist slick gathering between your legs as you press them together, just the sight of him is amazing, and it is so nice looking too, handsome just like the rest of him, uncut and perfect, lying a little curved and to the side on top of his balls.

And even soft as he is right now it's almost as long as the back of your hand as you let it rest over that spot where his hip meets his thigh, your fingertips gracing over the curls that surround his manhood, scratching and tugging softly at the hair as you let them explore.

You leave your hand there, flexing and stretching your fingers in an absentminded caress, next to where his body is the warmest, and you tilt your face up again to look at his face once more before nuzzling into his side and closing your eyes again, just resting but not sleepy enough to go back to sleep.

You just want to enjoy him, and this moment.

Last night, you had felt disappointed when he didn't show up by 6 as he had promised, and when your texts went unanswered you'd felt a little sad, but you figured something must have gone wrong at work, and besides, you hadn't told him your plan, he didn't know about the dinner, or that the dress he'd torn off was brand new, or the whole evening you had planned, with a movie and a game, just like you had done back at the cabin.

And he had apologized to you in such a wonderful way, he had never made love to you like that, so sweet, and soft, and slow, it was so incredible, the way he could make you feel, you're sure no other man on earth makes love like Joel Miller, there is just no way, he had been so full of passion, tender and rough at the same time, it had almost felt like an out of body experience, every time he moved and shifted your body into the position he wanted, a new sensation arose that you had never felt before.

Every touch of his hands and his mouth had felt like electricity, shooting sparkles all over your skin, and every orgasm had been so full that by the time he had finished inside of you, the fogginess of pleasure was such that you didn't even know if it had been multiples or just one that was so long and intense it left you tingling and gushing all over the couch cushions.

You're pretty sure that particular piece of furniture is completely ruined.

And later in the shower when he'd apologized again and told you what had happened, you had understood, happy to have been right, his work was hard and stressful, so it was ok. You knew he didn't mean to let you down or make you sad, he just worked really hard.

You had shown him your compassion and your understanding, and your love, by taking his softening member which was still covered in your essence, into your mouth and you'd brought him to his second climax of the night... or early morning you should say, because it was almost 3 by the time you dried off and got into bed.

And you're not really sure what time it was when his kisses and caresses had woken you up, but it felt like hours that you had been tangled up in each other, sharing your love.

As your head settled on your pillow, just before you'd drifted back to sleep, he had promised that it would never happen again, not ever. And you have no reason to doubt him, he's done nothing but be good to you, loving and caring and kind.

You open your eyes again, staring at his chest as it rises and falls with each breath, and for a brief moment, you let a little stormy cloud cast its shadow over you when you remember that he still hasn't broken up with Tess, but you shake it off and remember that it's only been a week since he confessed his love to you, so he hasn't broken that promise either.

He's gonna do it, you're sure of it, he just needs time.

He's breathing softly above you now, and you smile because this part right here, his body against yours warm and relaxed in sleep, is what you have been craving. You move your hand from where it's resting next to his crotch and bring your arm fully over his torso, holding on to him.

Making love with Joel is amazing, but cuddling into his body and sharing his bed, YOUR bed, is even better. This is what love songs and romance movies are all about, that last scene, the most powerful line when the one night stands and the forbidden loves turn into deep cuddles and meaningful kisses, perfect everlasting smiles as the curtain drops and the music fades.

It's everything you want with him.

You turn your face and lay a kiss on his side, and you picture days of mornings just like this, a week, a month, a year... A lifetime.

You picture your future with Joel, a sparkly ring, a white dress, traveling the world, and a BIG round belly heavy with his child, and in your fantasy, you forget all about his family and yours, in your wishful hope nothing stands between your love, in this early morning daydream, you are in a relationship, you're not a dirty secret, you're not the other woman.

In your movie, he loves you forever, In your love song everything works out, next to him, is the place you are meant to be.

Joel wakes up to the feeling of a soft tickle against his ball sack.

He opens his eyes slowly to find you laying on his chest, your small delicate fingers playing with the hair that covers his scrotum, and a faraway look on your face, and he's sure you haven't noticed he's awake, so he just watches you and it's so fucking cute, your expressions are so open and he marvels at the way your soft little smile turns into a pouty frown just for a moment, and then it's back, bright and pretty, and your hand stops its playful little dance at his groin, and then you're just holding him, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his side.

He smiles when you kiss the skin just under his armpit.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours sweet girl?" he asks softly while he pulls his arm from under your pillow and wraps it around your body, and he laughs at the way it jumps when you get startled at the sound of his voice, your pretty tits jiggling and bouncing against his side.

"JOEL!" You cry and slap his chest softly, tilting your face up and pouting at him "You scared me" you whine, and that's new... and he thinks it should make him feel weird that the baby voice is turning him on a little.

"Aww I'm sorry baby" he chuckles, tightening his hold on you and using two fingers to keep your face tilted enough to get to your lips "Mmm" he moans when you part them instantly to suck his tongue into your mouth.

"You just looked so beautiful, all deep in thought", he says once you break the kiss, letting your head go back to its resting place on this chest.

"I was thinking about you", you say softly, your fingers are tracing patterns on his belly now, and he sometimes feels a little self-conscious of that part of his body, like he gave up, failed himself somehow when he let go of the tight sixpack and settled into his aging body.

He doesn't feel like that with you, in your hands, the soft flesh doesn't feel like failure. The way you will sometimes just hug him and rub at his belly actually makes him feel good about it, makes him feel good about being a little bigger, and he loves the way you like to explore his body, to play with him, he loves teaching you how to please him, and he loves letting your curiosity guide your hands like it's doing now.

"What were you thinking about me?" he asks, and he closes his eyes letting himself bask in the feeling of your curious little fingers as they move lower, almost back to where they were when he had woken up, tracing those soft patterns from his belly down to his hip.

"I was thinking that you have a really, REALLY big cock" he smiles at the little giggle that comes out of your lips every time you use a 'dirty' word in bed, and he opens his eyes to see you biting your lip and looking down at where your hand is inching it's way closer and closer back to his groin. "Hhm You think so?" he asks, and this really isn't how he pictured your first morning in this bed was going to be like, but he's not complaining.

"Yup" Your fingers are dancing over his dick now, a barely there touch of your fingertips, running from where the bulbous head is peeking slightly out of his foreskin and all the way back up, to the soft curls at his base, and is not really enough to stir much out of him, but it still feels good. "I was thinking of when we first made love, in your bed, and how it felt when you were pushing inside. Do you remember?" you take him softly in your hand and move his member so it now lays limp over the nest of his curls, resting against the curve of his lower stomach.

And while he wouldn't exactly call your first time together making love, it at least didn't feel like a mistake anymore and if you wanted to remember a fast, dirty fuck that way, he won't deny it to you.

"I could never forget that, baby", he says, his fingertips joining yours now in their little dance, tracing their own soft patterns down your arm and over your back, and it's like you're both still caught in the quiet spell of the night before, speaking in hushed whispers, coming together slowly, tenderly.

No other woman before has taken this much time to lavish such attention to his cock either, and he's amazed that at 48 he gets to have some first times still. You give him so much.

"It hurt a little bit", You say softly, your index finger now making its way all the way from his tip down to the fleshy, loose skin of his ball sack, and all of a sudden you turn your face back up to look at him again "Not bad!" you tell him, in a rushed breath, and you only settle back down into the little spot you have carved for yourself against his body once he gives you a small nod and a smile of understanding, because he remembers that part too, how you went a little still, tensed up at the first push of his engorged tip into your tight little passage.

"The guys I was with before, they didn't feel like you" you go on.

And he knows that too, he remembers the almost jealous feeling in his gut when he first discovered you were not untouched, kneeling halfway down his staircase, his nose getting that first wif of your decadent scent, his tongue lapping up the sweet elixir of your precocious youth, and his fingers sliding into you so... easy.

Not his cock tho, that, you had really felt.

Your hand starts moving with a little more purpose now, your fingers griping and pushing at his foreskin, making the spongy head pop completely out, moist, and exposed to the chill of the room.

You make him feel so fucking wonderful.

"How do I feel when I'm inside of you baby?" he asks, he really wants to know where this is going, and he wraps his arm around you now, his fingers tracing their patterns against your hip, there is no rush, and he just realized as well, that while there's heat gathering in the pit of his stomach, and the hum of want is starting its vibrations, his dick's not really gonna be doing much for him... or you, this morning.

"Good" Your voice is all but a whisper, as you wrap your hand around him "Big and hot" You start stroking him now, he's only half hard and he knows that's how he'll stay, but it's still so good "Mmm yeah? You like it when I'm inside of you baby?" he asks and you just nod, pulling on his foreskin a little bit, rubbing it between your fingers like he had taught you how to do, and after a few moments of pushing and pulling and stroking, you look back up at him with a frown and a pout on your pretty lips.

"Am I doing something wrong?" You are so fucking sweet, he smiles down at you and shakes his head "No baby, I'm just tired, but it feels really nice" He brings the hand that had been resting at his side, up to your face, and he cups your check while you look at him "Some times this happens pretty girl, and it's ok, I still love your hands on me" he pulls you closer and tilts your face up to kiss that little pout away from your lips and he whispers against them "Go on sweet girl, tell me how it feels when we make love" and that's the first time he's used those words out loud when you're together, but he knows that's what you want it to be, so it's not just sex or fucking anymore, not ever again, not with you.

"It feels so good Joel", you say, and kiss him back and it amazes him that you keep touching him, stroking his mostly flaccid cock so carefully, so lovingly.

You spend the morning like that, talking and kissing and caressing each other, holding your bodies close and bringing each other over into a different kind of pleasure, and the look of wonder on your face when you still make him cum even in his current state makes the moment all the sweeter.

And he can quietly admit to himself while he watches you lick at the mess on his belly, that he's well and truly head over heels in love with you.

And in his head, he starts to formulate a plan, because he wants this, he wants you.

For a looong, long time.

Last week changed something.

You're not exactly sure what it was, at which moment it occurred, but you feel the shift, you feel it in the way Joel looked at you all through Saturday and well into Sunday, in the way his touch lingered more and more, in how he talked to you, and how he kissed you.

You notice it in the days that have followed, in the way that afternoons spent making love have turned into afternoons where you share meals and have conversations, in the way you realize that you didn't actually know Joel at all, and in the way you're starting to.

Little things, like how he doesn't like the taste of mayo and how he can smell it on a sandwich from 5 feet away, or that he hates the way that bar soap feels on his skin and that he actually uses proper face wash.

You learn that sometimes he just wants to lay down on the floor as soon as he arrives on his 3 pm lunch breaks because his back is killing him, and his knees ache, and how it makes him happy when you lay down next to him just because you want to feel him near, he doesn't say anything about it, but you know because when you turn your head to look at him, from his shoulder or his belly or his chest, your most favorite spots on his body to lay your head on, there's a big dimpled smile on his face.

You learn about the big things too, like his divorce, and how Olivia had walked out on him years and years before, leaving him with two crying toddlers to raise on his own, and he tells you about Ellie, who you are shocked to learn is actually Joel and Olivia's niece, adopted after her brother and sister-in-law had passed away in a freak accident while on vacation when Ellie was just one year old. He tells you about the happiest day of his life when Sarah was born, and he got to hold his baby girl in his arms for the first time.

He tells you about Tess too, about how they met through Maria, only a few months after her husband had died, and about how she never made him feel the way that you do, not even once, but he also tells you that she's a nice lady, who's been nothing but good to him, and you know he doesn't want to hurt her, so you tell him it's ok when he asks you to give him a little more time to break up with her.

And in exchange, you tell him things too, even if you feel a little funny at the way you are so far apart in experience, your life is so free of any real worries and stressful problems, but he never makes you feel like anything you tell him is unimportant, he listens to you talk about how pressured you feel to get into a good school because your parents have worked so hard to give you every opportunity, and he gets excited for, and, with you when you tell him all about your secret dreams of becoming a Pre-K teacher, and he holds you when you cry after a girl at school had been mean to you, and he soothes you and he peppers your face with little kisses when you tell him how sad it makes you that you can't talk about him with your friends, that you can't tell them how happy you are, how happy he makes you.

And you tell him about all the naughty things you think about him now, and all the naughty things you used to think about him before you'd really met, you tell him how he gave you your first orgasm when you were only just fifteen and still learning how to touch your own body, you tell him how it was his face you saw, the first time you pushed the thick handle of your hair brush into your pussy, and about how the first word you ever moaned when you were lost in pleasure was his last name because you didn't know his first name yet, and he chuckles and teases you about how you can call him Mr. Miller any time...

And he never makes you feel small, or dumb, when you ask him about things that you don't understand or that you're curious about, and he's so patient and so kind when he explains them to you.

And he teaches you so much every single time you make love, about your body, and about his, and about all the ways in which you can make each other feel good, even during those times when it takes him a little longer to recover, and during those when he doesn't recover at all.

You learn more new terms and what they mean like creampie and soft cock play, and double penetration, and he shows you how to use all the little goodies you had finally shown him from the sex shop, and every day he gets out his little toys with the heart-shaped gems and he does that thing that he likes to do the most and that still makes you blush like crazy.

And he gets you ready.

He lets you call him your boyfriend, while you pose for him so he can take pictures, and he laughs and kisses your cheek while you sit on his lap and change his contact name on your phone for the third time, and he lets you change your own in his.

You make little videos together now, so that you can watch, your phones in your hand or set up on the dresser, or the table, once even, next to you on the kitchen floor, and you try to be careful, only from behind, or bellow the neck, never saying each other's name or showing your face, and it's sooo hot, that neither of you thinks about the risks.

You love each other fully, on that 5th floor, between those four walls, behind a closed door.

And everything is perfect.

He's so fucking scummy.

Really that's all he can think about, his back is sweaty and his hands are slipping and his breath is heavy and harsh, panting from the exertion of repetitive movement, and there's so much noise, too much noise really, bouncing off of the walls. Squelching and slapping, and squeaking.

And he's just fucking scum, the worst.

He still grips her tighter, and his hips still thrust a little harder, and the way she screams and pushes back against him makes his cock ache for more.

"Fuck yes!! Fucking take it!" He grabs a fistful of auburn hair and pulls her head back as he fucks her, and really he had come here with the best intentions, he swears to God he was going to keep his promise, he loves you so much, sooo fucking much.

He slaps her face, just once, open palm against her already marked cheek "You fucking like that don't you?" And he's a bad baaad man, a pig, a dirtbag, and you deserve so much better.

"Aaah yes... Fuck yes... fucking spit in my mouth!" she groans through clenched teeth, and he does, 'cause she might like it in the dark, under the covers, and once in a blue moon, but... Tess could be nasty as fuck if she wanted to, she could get him going zero to sixty in the time it took her to drop her panties.

And he had come here with such good intentions, he'd come to keep his promise, to let her down gently, tell her it was over.

And he really doesn't love her, he never lied, not to her and not to you, she's never made him feel the way you do all shiny and new, he doesn't even really know how they ended up here, they just had a lovely dinner and 2, maybe 3 glasses of wine and next thing he knows she was kneeling on the floor and his cock was down her throat and well... one thing leads to another really.

And he's sorry, he's so fucking sorry.

"Fucking turn over" he growls, his fist still gripping her hair as she pulls off of his cock and gets on her belly, and he can't stand to look at her face, can't fucking stand himself right now either, he's a douchebag, a fucking jerk, scum of the earth.

He spits down into her pussy, and slams back into her so hard her head knocks against the headboard, her hands coming up to push against it, as the bead creaks and rattles.

"Oohh.. oh fuck" She drops a hand down and pushes it under her body, her tiny fist wrapping around his cock where it's pushing in and out of her body before moving lower to tug at his balls, and all he can picture is your pretty mouth, so sweet and innocent as it wrapped around them for the first time just a week ago.

And he feels sick, he really does, his stomach hurts and he wants to cry and maybe throw up a little, and he's so close, soooo fucking close.

It's almost over.

He closes his eyes and grips her hair tighter and he fucks the sloppy, dripping hole of her cunt as fast and hard as he can, and when he comes, it's to your pretty face, that dimpled smile, and those pouty lips, and your voice in his ear 'I love you so much, baby'.

And he's almost fucking 50 years old, but when he brings a hand up to wipe at his face as he falls back against her mattress, there really are tears there, he's still trying to catch his breath, and before he can think of what he's doing, what he's saying, the words are spilling out of his mouth, and it's like a car crash in slow motion, a thundering storm, and even if he tried there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"I'm seeing someone else", he says, lying next to his girlfriend of 3 fucking years, panting and both covered in sweat, and she's looking at him, still on her stomach, her hair a tangled mess.

"I'm pregnant", she responds. Her face a blank mask, no pain, no anger.

Joel leans his body over the side of the bed and retches, spewing his guts into her trashcan.

And he loves you. He really does.

[millerjewelsco]

Discover the Art of Timeless Elegance at M. J. Miller & Co

Since 1970, M. J. Miller & Co has been the heartbeat of Barrington, weaving a legacy of over 50 years in curating exquisite jewelry and delivering meticulous service. Our commitment to craftsmanship and personal connection has made us the premier jeweler in Barrington, and now, as we extend our reach from the Northwest suburbs to across the U.S., we invite you to join us on this extraordinary journey.

At M. J. Miller & Co, we are more than just a store; we are custodians of heritage and family pride. Our on-site master jewelers, with decades of experience, stand ready to breathe new life into your cherished pieces with unparalleled expertise in repairs. Trust us to restore the luster and brilliance of your jewelry, preserving the stories and memories they hold.

Jewelry Repair Expertise: Our commitment to perfection extends to every facet of our craft. Whether it's a delicate antique piece or a modern treasure, our master jewelers employ the utmost precision to bring your jewelry repair back to its original splendor. Entrust us with your most cherished items, and let our skillful hands work their magic.

Personalized Treasures: At M. J. Miller & Co, we don't just create jewelry; we craft personalized treasures that reflect your unique style and story. Our artisans work closely with you to design one-of-a-kind pieces that transcend time, becoming cherished heirlooms for generations to come.

Expanding Our Legacy: As we take our legacy beyond Barrington and reach customers across the U.S., your presence becomes a vital part of our expansion. Join us in celebrating the artistry and passion that define M. J. Miller & Co. Every piece we create and every repair we undertake is a testament to our unwavering commitment to excellence.

Jewelry Accessories: Elevate your style with our curated collection of jewelry accessories. From statement pieces that captivate to subtle accents that enhance, our showroom is a treasure trove of possibilities. Explore the perfect complement to your ensemble and discover the transformative power of fine jewelry.

Experience the magic of M. J. Miller & Co, where every moment is uniquely adorned with our passion for fine jewelry. Join us as we continue to symbolize craftsmanship and personal connection within the Barrington community and beyond. Your journey with us adds another chapter to our enduring legacy.

Visit us in Barrington or explore our online store. Let M. J. Miller & Co be your destination for unparalleled craftsmanship and exquisite jewelry.

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✶ ​𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓-𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒, 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 (𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑)

✶ ​𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 ~ 🌶🤍

[soumil]

Rosie The riveter We can do it!

Rosie the Riveter is an allegorical cultural icon in the United States who represents the women who worked in factories and shipyards during World War II.

Poster’s stereotype is its message to empower women that women can do anything at all even if it is a job so archetypical to men like working in the factories, Women as her are portrayed attractive and confident. The poster uses Symbolism of a physically strong women to break down the boundaries and social norms.

A high demand of the wartime economy called for a re-evaluation of American women’s roles in society.

In 1942, Pittsburgh artist J. Howard Miller was hired by the Westinghouse Company’s War Production Coordinating Committee to create a range of propaganda posters to encourage women to join the war effort, the Rosie the Riveter image not only exemplified the nationalism felt amongst U.S. citizens but also came to represent the generation of women who broke down societal boundaries

Poster’s information/message and call to action: -was to To inspire specifically the employees at Westinghouse Electric to keep churning out plastic helmet liners for the US war effort. In the face of acute wartime and labor shortage; the poster was aimed at encouraging those women who had never before held jobs to join the workforce.

Geraldine Hoff Doyle was the unwitting model for the “We Can Do It!” poster of a woman flexing her biceps in a factory during World War II. An image that then became a symbol for the new role of women in American society, encouraging/ invigorating women to join the war effort, which later inspired the feminist movement in 21st century.

The poster connects with the audience from the feeling of empowerment that women get from the look of the image of Ms. Doyle posing powerful and confident. This reminds them how they are suppressed daily when they feel powerless among a patriarchal society which wants you to believe that you are delicate and less powerful despite this, the poster creates an image of the type of women they want to see themselves to be, that is strong and confident with their heads held high.

The poster made women feel the Feeling of patriotism and work together in the effort.

Women responded to the call of need by stepping up to their duty, country was displaying positions filling with women that were traditionally filled by men.

[klvgers]

don’t yell

pairing: lou miller x reader

summary: after a failed heist, lou thinks that your decisions were very careless.

word count: 515

warnings: lou’s a bit of a meanie in the beginning, but soft!lou at the end, hurt/comfort, angst

“lou, i’m sorry.” you apologized to your girlfriend as she pace around the bedroom. she ran her hands through her hair and cracked her knuckles. “i didn’t know-”

“y/n, you can’t be so careless on heists like this! you always think you can get away this certain things, but what if one day you don’t? what’s gonna happen?” lou exclaimed, already regretting her words. “i could get some help from the girls.” you hung your head low.

“but what if they don’t? i know that they would do anything for you or me, but if they physically can’t?!”she asked with her hands on her hips. “lou, i don’t know why we have to argue about this-”

“because you could’ve gotten caught, y/n! you could’ve went to prison! when they locked debbie up, it was scary. i didn’t want that to happen to you! cops were surrounding the building with guns pointed, do you understand that? god, we’ve went over that plan a thousand times, i don’t know how you messed this up!”

lou’s yells bounced off the wall and echoed throughout the room. she was right. you didn’t want to go to prison. how could you be so stupid? a quieted whimper came from you throat as fresh tears rolled down your face. you flinched when she held your hand, and you instantly tugged it away from her.

“hey, darling, i’m sorry.” lou almost whispered, her voice soft and delicate. “no, no, hey baby. why the crying, honey? it’s alright.” she crouched in front of you, rubbing your leg up and down, leaving occasional kisses on your knee. “can you look at me, baby? i’m not gonna yell at you, i just wanna see your pretty face okay?” you shook your head as your sos got louder.

“oh, angel.” lou stood the both of you up and brought you into her strong arms, kissing your head and whispering apologies in your ear. “m’ sorry lou, i didn’t mean to make you mad.” you barely got that sentence out because of how much you were crying. “you didn’t make me mad, sweetheart, i was just scared.” lou kissed your forehead this time, big waves of guilt washing over her. “i gotcha baby.”

“j-just don’t yell anymore, please.” lou’s heart broke. you sounded so pitiful, she almost broke into tears. she was so mad at herself. “yes darling, no more yelling. i won’t ever do it again, okay?” she promised and you nodded, muffling your hiccups into her jacket. she started to rock the two of you side to side, humming a song you love. you were surprised she remembered it.

once you calmed down, “i’m so sorry lou.” you apologized again, rubbing your eyes and sniffling. “ah ah baby, none of that. i should be apologizing. i was completely out of line, sweetheart. i just didn’t want to lose you, i couldn’t bare to live with myself. i love you so much. more than everything.” she hugged you tighter, this time she gave you a innocent peck on the lips.

“i love you too, lou.”

[tilynation]

Was Taylor’s Henna Tattoo the “Golden Tattoo?”

With this year being the 5 year anniversary of “September 28,” I’ve seen people say that the golden henna tattoo that Taylor had on her left arm and hand in photos from September 28, 2016 is the “golden tattoo” from Dress. Here’s the history of the henna tattoo:

(I still think the golden tattoo is most likely Taylor’s gold heart tattoo choker from the Bowery Night because it’s in the Making of a Song video for “Delicate,” etc. or Lily’s wrist tattoo that literally says “golden” in Latin.)

Sept. 23, 2016 - Taylor cut her hair in LA.

Sept. 24, 2016 - Taylor attended British model Liberty Ross’ birthday party in LA. She had the henna tattoo in photos from the party. Liberty is married to Jimmy Iovine, who is a legend in the music business and was with Apple Music at the time.

Media reports Taylor danced with Gwyneth Paltrow, Mary J Blige, and Mick Jagger at the party. The Haim girls were there.

Sept. 27, 2016 - Taylor was back in NYC and went to dinner.

I think one day we’ll learn that Lily met up at some point this night. She was frequently hanging out with Cara and Suki, and spent a lot of time with Sienna Miller that year also. Sienna joined Taylor and Lily at Cabin Down Below in October.

Sept. 28, 2016 - Taylor was papped in NYC with a clear shot of the ornate golden henna tattoo. She had the tattoo since at least September 24.

Liberty Ross and Taylor

They’ve known each other at least since 2014 when they were photographed talking with Bono at an awards show afterparty. Liberty was at the Vanity Fair Oscar Party in 2016 (the night I think is the “Gorgeous” night) that both Taylor and Lily attended.

Liberty Ross and Lily

Liberty and Lily are both British models who did several magazine shoots and fashion shows together, as well as attended many of the same events. It’s unclear if Lily was at Liberty’s birthday party in LA. I haven’t seen any evidence of her being there.

Taylor’s cover of “September”

It was recorded with an acoustic version of “Delicate” for Spotify Singles in April 2018, right after Taylor made the “Delicate” vertical video.

I don’t think the “September” cover is related to the Met gala. It’s a popular dance song at those kind of parties. Taylor was dancing with Tom to the song and we know that relationship did not last long. I think the “September” cover is related to something happening on September 28 like Taylor has said and I think it’s related to “Delicate” based on her recording the two songs together for Spotify in April 2018. I wouldn’t be surprised if the “Delicate” night was September 28, 2016. “Dive bar on the East Side, where you at?” We know who is on the East Side and liked her dive bars! (Lily!) Taylor’s Spotify Single version of “Delicate” opens with that line and cuts out the entire intro (“This ain’t for the best . . .”). (Link)

[mikah-writes]

nsfw a-z with joel miller

I do hope you all enjoy! I worked very hard on this so please let me know in an ask or message if you’d want more of this stuff with Joel <3

Warnings: BDSM talk, various kinks and fetishes being mentioned, Daddy kink, NSFW!!!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Joel is a very cuddly person after sex, despite his outwardly exterior. You can find him snuggling up to his partner while leaving delicate kisses along her neck as they settle into bed for the night. Expect lots of soft singing and humming as he reassures you that you are cherished and adored by him. Especially if you two have done a dirty talking scene. He will assure you that any names he called you in bed are strictly fantasy and roleplay and that he does not mean it in the slightest.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If he was honest, his favorite body part on himself is his biceps. He knows how much you adore his strength and loves to show it off in bed. His favorite part on you has to be a hard tie between your ass and your thighs. He loves how soft you are and isn’t afraid to cop a feel in and out of the bedroom if time allows it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Joel LOVES watching you swallow his cum. He can’t get enough of it. A second runner up is creampies. Watching his seed slowly leak out of your pussy is a dream come true for him. Another contender is cumming all over your ass and/or tits. Anywhere on your body that he can get his hands on he wants to mark with his cum.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

One dirty secret of Joel’s is that he is a lover of feet. It’s nothing too extreme and he isn’t the type to sniff socks or suck on toes however you will catch him rubbing and massaging your soles a bit more often and somehow holding onto your feet while your legs are over his shoulders. He’s a lover of pretty painted toes. Simple.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

While his last married ended in shambles, he did pick up a thing or two on pleasing a woman. That experience has grown over the years with his small flings here and there with past girlfriends. So with you in the picture now, expect to have a very experienced Joel to guide you through all your secret kinks and fetishes.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

For Joel it’s a hard tie between doggystyle and cowgirl. Missionary used to be his thing back when he was a horny teenager but Joel has some years under his belt and has figured out what works best for him and his partners. He loves the way he can grip your hips and plow into you in doggystyle but adores the change of pace cowgirl gives where he lets you set the speed when riding him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Joel is a mix of both. He can keep it together during an intense scene but if you start smiling and giggling at him (like you typically do), after a while he can’t keep it together and ends up breaking character by chuckling and asking “Darlin’, what’s so funny?”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Joel is a hairy man and doesn’t see the need to shave or trim below the belt. He does’t expect that from his partner either. Just as long as you two are having fun and enjoying the moment, that’s all he asks. Pubes have never been an issue in Joel’s eyes and he honestly takes pride in the bush he rocks. Plus, who can find a razor during the outbreak? Let’s be real.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Joel is pretty romantic if I am being honest. He loves kissing you and looking into your eyes as he slowly fucks you. He’s much more of an observer and likes to watch your faces of pleasure as he touches you. He gets pretty deep in his role of being your dominant and takes pride in being the only one who sees you so thoroughly fucked after a session with him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

While he won’t ever admit it to your face, he likes to jack off whenever he has the time to do so. Self pleasure is key. As naughty as this may be, he’s jacked it to the thought of you many times and even did it in the same room as you when you were sleeping. Before the outbreak, he loved taking his time jacking off and enjoying that post orgasm high. Now, quick and fast strokes are whats best to get him off and to stay alert. He doesn’t bask in the bliss anymore and tries to clean up as fast as he can.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Joel is an advocate of titjobs. While he is an ass man, something about sliding his cock in between a nice pair of breasts never fails to get him going. He loves pinching your nipples and loves to give your breasts a nice squeeze while he’s fucking them. He is a fan of bigger breasts but if you have a smaller chest, he will still love you the same! 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Before (and even now) he has always appreciated a soft bed to pin you down and roughly fuck you in. Now that the outbreak is here, he loves to take you in semi-public places. Up against a table in the lookout or pushed upon the wall in a back alley somewhere in the city. Nothing will stop him from pounding into you if he has some privacy and the time to do so.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Simple answer: you. He cherishes the time he spends with you whether it be in public or private. But something about your scent drives you wild. You smell so feminine and it drives something primal inside him to just take you right then and there. It’s why he loves to kiss alongside your neck and leave hickies there. He gets to smell you better and mark up his woman. Two birds with one stone.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Joel isn’t the kinkiest person alive. While he loves choking, spanking, hair pulling, and biting, one thing he doesn’t want to partake in is bodily fluids. Saliva is fine for him (given he’s thought of spitting on your face and in your mouth on multiple occasions) but urine and feces? Nope. Joel loves to stay clean and those two things are the total opposite of what he wants. Plus urine and feces is a constant reminder of how bad the world has gone to shit (literally) and he doesn’t want to be reminded of that.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Joel LOVES to give oral. While he definitely doesn’t mind receiving a blowjob, something about the way his tongue feels inside of you makes it so addicting to him. He adores the taste of your pussy and honestly cannot get enough of it. The best feeling ever is having you wrap your legs around his neck while he goes to town on your clit.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Joel likes to switch it up every now and then. When it’s fast, his pace is brutal. His harsh deep thrusts are hard enough to leave slight bruising on your thighs. When it’s slow, expect soft and deep strokes that make you whimper until you cry. Either way, his main goal is to make you cum so hard you forget your name.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

As much as Joel likes quickies, he’s a fan of proper sex. Quickies get you off but proper sex is irreplaceable. The sounds. The intensity. The love. The cute faces you make when he hits that spot. He cannot get enough of you. Quickies can’t give him the same satisfaction that real sex gives.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Joel has always been a risk taker. He loves to experiment during sex and what he can do better to pleasure you more. He’s an experimentalist at heart. Semi-public sex is very arousing to him and the riskier it is, the more it gets him off. However, he is NOT one to be easily caught though the possibility of being caught is what gets him going.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Being a seasoned man in the sex department, expect to go around for at least an hour. Joel is all about the foreplay and the acts leading up to sex just as much as the actual act of sex itself. He can go for two rounds before having to hit the hay. However, given that he is getting older, his stamina will decline slightly though not by much.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys but doesn’t mind if his partner owns any. He’d honestly be surprised if you had any given the circumstances. He would use his partner’s toys on her as foreplay but will toss them aside once he’s actually ready to begin.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Joel is the KING of teasing!!! You’ve got to prove to him how much you wish to cum. He will edge you until you’re a drooling babbling mess. He will get you right there and then deny you and chuckle in your face about it.

“Oh you wanna cum? Beg for it then darlin’”.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He doesn’t get too loud during sex at all. Joel is more of a grunter than a moaner. When you’re gripping him in all the right ways. expect a curse or two to slip out.

“Fuck babygirl! You’re so wet for me. I love making a mess out of you.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Joel is a lover of degradation. He adores dirty talk and the filthier it is the better. He knows how it makes you so wet hearing his deep voice call you names.

“Does my filthy little whore want more of Daddy’s cock? Beg for it slut.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Joel, to put it in words, is hung like a horse and he is proud of it too! Eight inches in length and he is very girthy. Expect to be stretched to the max with him. He knows how his cock is drool worthy and loves whenever you get on your knees and start to tease him.

“Let’s see what that mouth of yours can do darlin’”.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Joel has always had a moderate sex drive. It was pretty high during his first marriage but after the divorce and his ex wife leaving him and Sarah, it decreased severely. Now it’s starting to pick up again after beginning a relationship with you. He now has the urge to masturbate again and wants to be closer to you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Joel falls asleep pretty quickly after sex. He will get up to bring you a towel to wipe off any sweat but after he climbs back into bed, he is out like a light! No waking this sleeping bear unless you want to be punished for it (which could lead to a session of spanking and fyi being spanked by Joel ain’t that fun given his strength but hey maybe pain is your thing!)

[desimonewayland]

Cannabis ~ From J. S. Miller’s book The Gardener’s Dictionary

Printed in London 1760

There is evidence of recreational use throughout Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries, as well as many records of it being legally used as a medical ingredient throughout the 19th century. In the above illustration, from Philip Miller’s Gardener’s Dictionary, we see the ostensibly humble cannabis plant delicately hand-coloured and depicted in fine detail, highlighting the natural beauty and dignity of this oft-maligned plant.

Sotheby’s