#joel fluff

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[asoftsighh]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ joel miller x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

joel helps you when you hit your head - 751 words

You’re trying to catch your breath when your foot catches on something, an uneven step or stray debris. It doesn’t matter, because all you see next is your hands in front of you, helplessly reaching out to stop your fall. 

It doesn’t help. 

Instead, the world tilts, your vision blurring as your head hits the concrete beneath you. Somewhere nearby, a voice is calling out your name — deep, frantic, but already sounding distant. 

Your head throbs, the pain hot and sharp, spreading outward in waves. You try to move and groan, the small movement sending waves of pain through your skull. 

“Hey. Hey, no, don’t- don’t move. Just stay still.”

The voice is familiar. Gruff. Joel. 

You blink, slow and heavy, vision clearing. He finally comes into view — hovering over you with worry etched into every line and groove of his face. 

“Jesus,” he mutters, his thumb brushing against your throbbing temple. His touch is gentle, barely even there. “You hit your head pretty hard, honey.”

You have some vague thought about how the pet name would’ve made you blush in better conditions. None of that now, not with broken concrete slabs between your back and your backpack nor the bright sun beating down on your both. 

You try to say something, but all that comes out is a pained, weak noise. Your tongue feels leaden, your jaw wired shut. 

“You okay to move?” He asks, his hand dropping away from you. The sun halos around his head, each second of brightness sends another pulse of pain within you. You give up entirely and shut your eyes, nodding in response. 

You suffer through the next minute. The moment Joel gets you on your feet, your arm over his shoulders, a rush of nausea uncoils in your gut, like a fire spreading. You clamp a hand over your mouth unnecessarily, your breakfast remaining in its place. Through slitted eyes, you watch the ground as it changes from concrete to dirty tile, from mid-day sun to beneath a roof.

“There you go, come on,” he murmurs gently, as if coaxing a frightened horse. He eases your backpack off, another arm around your middle until your back hits a wall and your butt meets the floor. He joins you shortly after, kneeling in front of you. With one calloused but gentle hand, he holds your chin, turning it to look at your wound. Your eyes flutter shut with the contact.

You swallow against the nausea clawing at your throat. Your head and ears feel like they’ve been filled with cotton, muffling everything slightly so that you hear your pulse over anything else. You open your eyes again. 

Joel’s face is close, brows knit together in a familiar frown. His hand is warm, now on your chin. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper, jaw loosening. 

He shakes his head, brows somehow furrowing deeper. “No you ain’t.” He abandons your jaw to turn for his bag, fetching his canister of water. You shiver in his absence. He holds it to your lips, helping you lean your head back just enough to swallow a few mouthfuls of water. 

“Lucky you ain’t bleeding,” he says, his voice soft. “Probably just a concussion. We’ll get you back when you can move again.”

You swallow the remains of the water, easing your head back against the cool wall, stretching out your trembling legs in front of you. “What about the patrol route?” Your voice is low, but he seems to hear you just fine.

“Don’t worry bout that,” he reassures. 

You glance over at him, trying to ignore the pounding of your skull. “But someone has to do it. This trail hasn’t been checked in almost-”

Joel gives you a look, one that shuts you up. It’s not unkind, only firm.

“Don't care,” he says, face and voice both solid. “Ain’t nothing more important than you being in one piece. No use doing the route when you’re falling over, sick.”

You manage a small smile, one that barely tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You’re so stubborn, Miller.”

He doesn’t answer, simply watches you like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. His hands find one of yours, cradling it between them like some valuable object. One that he’d rather hurt himself than see hurt.

You squeeze his hand, barely a twitch of your fingers, a faint breath of laughter escaping your lips. “You scare me when you’re like this.”

Joel's thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I scare myself, too.”

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[lowrisemiller]

bed breaks when joel and reader are.. yknow

ꜱᴛᴜʀᴅʏ

joel miller x fem!reader

had sm fun writing this tyyy

you and joel just moved in together and are in need of a bed frame all is good until you give it the real test

masterlist | 1.9k words | teasing, smoochin, fingering, unprotected piv sex, DOGGY😛

You wake up to a Joel-shaped furnace beside you, his arm thrown over your waist like he’s got some claim to the bed you technically found first in the housing lottery. But he moved in two weeks ago, and now everything in the little blue house smells like cedar, coffee, and leather.

Home.

“Mornin’,” he rasps, lips brushing your neck as you stretch.

“There’s a community garage sale today,” you mumble. “We need a bed frame.”

Joel groans like you just suggested he skin a clicker with his bare hands. “The floor works just fine.”

“Joel,” you say, rolling onto your side to face him. “We’re not savages. You threw your back out last week tying your boot. You really wanna keep sleeping on a mattress like a college sophomore?”

That earns a low chuckle. “Fine. But if I end up haulin’ somethin��� heavy, you better make it worth my while.”

You press a kiss to his jaw. “Deal.”

The Jackson town square is buzzing. Booths are arranged in crooked rows, tables overflowing with mismatched dishes, fishing gear, hand-knit sweaters, and the occasional hodgepodge of someone’s pre-outbreak DVDs. A little boy walks by dragging a garden gnome by the hat.

You and Joel circle the perimeter until you spot it: an iron bed frame leaning against a tent, spray-painted with the word “$10 OR TRADE”. It’s rusted around the edges, but it’s got this vintage flair—like it belonged in some early 2000s Airbnb before the world went to shit.

“Sturdy?” Joel asks the booth owner, a woman in her sixties with a braid down to her waist.

“Stood the test of time,” she says. “Belonged to my sister. She and her husband were…active. Frame held up just fine.”

Joel grunts and crosses his arms. “That supposed to reassure me?”

You hide your laugh in your sleeve.

Eventually, you trade two jars of homemade pickles and a box of ammo for it. Joel loads the pieces onto a borrowed handcart, muttering under his breath the whole way home.

It’s not a bad bed. Once cleaned, the black iron headboard gleams in the sunlight pouring through the window. Joel grumbles over the screws, but you can tell he’s secretly enjoying the project. There’s something boyish in the way he crouches beside the frame, a screwdriver in hand, hair falling into his eyes.

You hand him bolts, trying not to stare at the curve of his forearms. “You know,” you say, leaning against the wall, “this could be a new thing for us. Domestic life. Fixing furniture. Hosting dinner parties. Maybe raising a goat.”

Joel snorts. “I ain’t raisin’ no goddamn goat.”

“Not even if I name her after you?”

He looks up, one brow raised. “You wanna name a goat Joel?”

“Joel-ine,” you say sweetly.

He points the screwdriver at you. “I’m takin’ back that screw if you keep talkin’.”

Later That Night

The frame holds.

You test it with gentle movement. Then a bounce. Joel watches with an amused shake of his head, arms crossed over his chest as you kneel on the mattress and try to rattle it.

“So,” you say. “Wanna christen it?”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks toward you slowly and sure, like you’re prey and he’s already halfway full but greedy for more.

His hands go to your hips. “You just want me to break it in.”

“I want you to break me in.”

He kisses you like he’s starved. Not just hungry for you, but for this—home, warmth, normalcy. His hands are on your waist, pulling you close, his mouth hot against yours. When you tug at his belt, he groans into your neck.

“Slow down,” he mutters, fingers slipping under your shirt to map the curve of your back. “Ain’t even admired you yet.”

You sit back on your heels atop the mattress, letting him look. The moonlight streaks in through the blinds, catching the soft sheen of sweat already blooming on your collarbones. Joel’s eyes darken as he takes you in—shirtless, flushed, breathing hard.

“You’re trouble,” he says.

You smirk. “And you like it.”

He lunges forward and kisses you hard, all tongue and teeth, like he’s trying to prove something. You pull him down on top of you, gasping as his weight presses you deep into the mattress. His thigh parts your legs. You roll your hips up against him, and the low, strangled sound he makes sends heat coiling through your belly.

“Been thinkin’ about this all goddamn day,” he growls, sliding a hand down your stomach, slipping inside your waistband. “You wearin’ these little shorts… bendin’ over that booth…”

“Joel,” you gasp, clutching his arm.

He slides his fingers between your legs and finds you soaked. His touch is slow, deliberate, maddening. He rubs tight circles, watching your face the whole time. “Fuck. This all for me?”

You nod, too breathless to speak.

Joel dips his head, kissing your jaw, your throat, your chest. He takes one nipple into his mouth, hot and insistent, while his fingers keep working you. You arch under him, mouth falling open in a moan that’s half his name.

“Turn around,” he whispers. “Wanna see you like that.”

You shift, spine arching as you flip onto your stomach. Joel growls his approval as you lift your hips, bracing your hands against the pillows. He kneels behind you and drags your shorts down slowly, reverently, baring you inch by inch. The cool air hits your slick heat, and you shiver.

“Jesus,” he mutters, running his hands over your ass, spreading you open. “Look at you.”

You feel the blunt head of his cock tease at your entrance, thick and hot and so ready.

“Joel,” you beg, unable to take the teasing anymore. “Please.”

He slides in slow, inch by inch, watching you clench around him. The stretch is almost too much—but god, you crave it. You want to be full of him. Marked by him. Taken apart and put back together again.

“Fuck,” he hisses, bottoming out. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby.”

He starts to move. Deep, languid thrusts that make the bed creak with every snap of his hips. You fist the sheets, crying out as he hits that spot over and over, your thighs trembling.

“Been wantin’ this,” he groans, picking up the pace. “Every night. Every fuckin’ minute.”

You push back to meet his rhythm, skin slapping against skin, breath hitching. It’s primal and messy—desperate—and the bedframe is not handling it well.

You can feel it wobbling.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “I don’t care, just—don’t stop—”

Joel grabs your hips and fucks into you harder, faster. The sound of your bodies moving in rhythm fills the room, and you’re so close, it’s maddening. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing frantically, and you fall over the edge with a strangled moan, shaking beneath him.

He follows with a growl, slamming into you once, twice—then the frame snaps. A deafening crack. The mattress tips sideways and Joel shouts, losing his balance as you both tumble onto the floor in a sweaty, tangled heap.

Silence.

You’re breathless, stunned, still trying to come down from the high as Joel groans, “Goddamn it.”

“Yup,” you wheeze. “You broke our sex bed.”

Joel shifts off you and sits up, bare and exasperated. “They said it was sturdy.”

“Maybe just not Joel-fucking-me-into-next-week sturdy.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. Then laughs.

You’re still giggling when he reaches down and pulls you into his lap, one hand cupping the back of your neck. “Guess I owe you a better bed.”

You thread your fingers into his messy curls and lean your forehead against his. “Guess you do.”

He kisses you again, slower this time. Like you’ve got nowhere to be. No clickers. No broken frame under your asses.

Just a mattress on the floor, the man you love, and the moonlight painting soft shapes on the wall.

The Next Morning

You wake up sore and boneless, Joel snoring beside you.

There’s a knock at the front door.

You throw on a shirt and answer it to find Tommy standing there with a coffee mug and a smirk.

“Y’all break your new bed already?” he asks.

You blink. “How’d you—”

“Ellie heard the crash from two houses over.”

You groan and shut the door in his face.

Joel mumbles from the bedroom, “We’re buildin’ the next one ourselves.”

You call back, “With what? Vibration-proof steel?”

He grins into his pillow. “Damn straight.”

divider by @cursed-carmine 🏷️ @zevrra @xodilfluvr @littlemillersbaby @millersdoll @grayandthyme

[lilyinmysoul]

Incomprehensible

JacksonJoel x F!Reader

WC: 4k

Summary: Old man Joel is having trouble lasting a whole round on top.

Warnings: Smut, piv, sub joel, kinda angsty, comfort, Joel feels all sad and like he’s not good enough, Joel is 57 with back problems, handjob, vivid descriptions of bodily fluids, praise kink, domestic Joel, soft dom reader, reader calls Joel ‘old man’ once or twice, joel grips the headboard, (implied) age gap

Note: I’ve wanted to write subby Joel for a while, and I don’t think I went subby enough but I still love this fic. I took way too long writing it, so, no proofread. If there’s any mistakes, tell me. If you have any tips, tell me. Please reblog if you like, and if you want more fics like this, tell me, because I love my Jackson Joel and I have a kink for babying old men

As Joel trudged tiredly up the driveway, he watched the porch light flicker and dim, only to return to its original warm glow a moment later. The bulb was old and it would be difficult to find another; he didn’t want to think about it, he had a long enough list of things to do already.

As more people moved into Jackson, more babies were born, and more houses built, there was more work to be done around town and more responsibilities to be dealt with. Joel’s hair had greyed significantly in the past year, and still his patrols were getting longer. Even though his muscles felt extra sore after a long day of scavenging, he’d still have to get up the next morning and do it again.

Joel was fifty-seven two months ago, and as winter settled upon the town and rain puddles took a permanent residence on the sidewalks, he was becoming increasingly aware of it.

In recent weeks, light dustings of snow would fall from the sky, previews of the inches yet to come as the cold months approached. Joel’s heavy boots clomp against the cement path to your shared home, stepping in slush that crunches, half frozen, under his feet.

In his age, his fingers were especially sensitive to the cold, and it was likely that his brown leather gloves were the only thing protecting them from turning purple in the frosty air. Even so, he feels numb, and he rubs his covered hands against each other. Joel steps onto the porch, the only sound being his bulky shoes against the hollow wood of the deck. With a deep and breathy exhale and a glance up at the glowing window—you were awake—he fishes the house key from his pocket and slides it into the lock. It was a rewarding sound, one he looked forward to each day. It meant a night of rest, a warm plate of food, and the chance to see you.

He turns the cold brass knob and the door creaks open, emitting a squeal from its old and rusty hinges. The house was clean and tidy, but it had been built so long ago. No matter how clean the two of you kept it, the wood in the walls was weakening and the roof tiles continuing to wear under the rain. It reminded Joel of himself. He breathes in and closes the door, turning the lock as he takes in the smell, a fusion of both of your unique scents, traced with the aroma of old books and wood.

His boots are muddy, so he makes sure to rid them by the door. Under his feet, the floor creaks lightly and once you register the sound of movement downstairs, you practically prance down them.

You find him in the kitchen, still in his jacket and gloves as he leans on the counter with a glass of water. He takes a sip and places down the cup, its clink against the surface obscured by his deep, southern voice.

“Sweetheart,” he greets, the bags under his eyes deeper than usual, and his voice less steady. You could practically feel his exhaustion—now, and in weeks past. Regardless, your mouth turns up in a smile.

“Long day?” Your hand takes one of his, fingers working to peel the leather from his skin. “I made dinner. Chicken, the way you like.” You move on to his other hand before setting down the gloves and lacing your fingers with his freezing ones. You squeeze.

“Thank you, baby… s’just… freezin’ out there. Cold gives me a damn headache.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as your fingers find the brass zipper of his big brown jacket—the one he always wore and that you’d never tire of seeing him come home in. You pull down and free his strong arms as he stretches them above his head, sighing. You hear a pop from a joint of his, a hollow crack that rang out habitually each time Joel broke free from a spell of motionlessness. Soon, his jacket is forgotten and draped over a chair as you fetch a plate from the wooden cabinet.

The plates were china, their condition nearly mint and preserved for all these years. From the pot on the stove, you heap his plate with food. It was warm and steaming, and you found little as rewarding as watching him scarf down your cooking or drink down your tea after a long day of work. Perhaps it was your love language; a humble exchange for the drawers he’d fix and mend, or the shelves he’d put together when you needed more space for the trinkets he’d bring back for you, swiped from the shelf of an empty home he’d cleared.

You place the dish in front of him on the table, setting a fork next to it and a topped off glass of water. Across from him, you sit, having already aten. This felt optimal, allowing you to rest your chin in your hands and watch him, talk to him, hear about his day.

Joel nearly groans as he takes the first bite, his exhaustion even more evident. “Tastes like heaven, baby,” he mutters between bites.

“I made extra for you to bring on patrol tomorrow. Lunch, or something.”

He hums in acknowledgement, a quiet thanks as he enjoys his meal. A drink from his glass, then he breaks the silence, a hand palming at the back of his neck. “‘M so damn sore.”

You frown. It upsets you to see how much Joel is working, and saddens you further to witness how it affects him. More often than not, his back is sore, or his legs achy. As prideful as he was, it was clear that he needed a break. And although Joel warned you against bringing it up to Tommy, the idea was getting increasingly tempting. It’s becoming a priority of yours to get him off that damn schedule.

“I’m sorry,” you soothe and stand up, topping off his glass once again, before your hands come to rest on his shoulders as you stand behind his chair. Your fingers squeeze at the muscles there, taut and stressed as he inhales deeply and takes another bite. “I can massage it if you want.” A beat, before you speak again. “Maybe you should ask Tommy if someone else can pick up your shift.”

Joel says your name in a stern, yet exasperated tone that says, ‘drop it’. You wonder what exactly it is that stops him from asking for help.

“Okay,” you agree, forcing the topic out of your mind and out of your mouth, hands still working at his tense and knotted muscle. “I just worry about you. I just don’t want to see you hurting, I want you to feel good.”

“I’m just… gettin’ old, is all. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with work, I’m… I’m okay.” Joel grunts as your hands work, and you don’t believe him one bit—not even a little. Either way, you don’t argue. Instead, you lean down and kiss the top of his head, your lips pressing against his soft, graying hair.

“Alright,” you agree. He hums as he feels your lips.

“Plus,” he adds. “I can still keep up with you, I reckon.”

“Sure can, old man,” you squeeze one of his arms, a thick bicep only barely softened by age. You very strongly appreciated his strength—muscles formed through vigorous labor; initially, fixing roofs in the sun, and eventually, fighting infected with his bare hands. Granted, he is more comfortable now. His life is stable in Jackson, allowing his tummy to soften up a bit because he has food to eat and a bed to lounge in. Even so, he could still pick you up and carry you out in the snow, and when he would grunt a little deeper now with the effort, you reveled in the sound.

He takes a bite. “So long as you don’t get sick’a me.” 

“Never.”

A deep chuckle from Joel, and his plate is clean. He looks up at you, and you take the opportunity to lean down and press a kiss to his cheek, hands finding the sides of his face as your lips move to envelop his. Your mouth moves tenderly over his as he emits a soft hum.

You pull your lips away softly, a string of saliva connecting your mouths before it breaks and your eyes rake over his face as it still rests in your hands.

“I feel better already,” he states.

“I’m sure,” you smile, gaze flicking down to the bulge in his pants, a tent beginning to form.

“Feels nice,” he says, referring to nothing in particular. It was all so pleasant—the way you made him dinner and fed him with such care, how you worked out the stiffness in his muscles and kissed away his trepidation—he never had enough of it. He was never entirely sure why you chose him—grumpy and hardened, old and weary—but you never let him spend too much time mulling it over. You loved him so entirely that it was nearly impossible to doubt, every past loss and failing managing to fade to nothing when he would meet your eyes.

Your hands drop from his face and you pick up his plate and empty glass, your feet carrying you the short distance to the kitchen sink. Over your shoulder, you see him watching you, on his eyes a look of admiration combined with a hint of lust. Joel’s absolute love for your nurturing nature was something that he would rarely voice, and that nobody else would ever guess. You wipe the plate clean and set it in the sink, rinsing your hands and wiping them dry.

By now, Joel has stood, meeting you again in the dim light of the dining room. You smile lazily at him, relieved that the day’s responsibilities were done and dealt with. To you, having Joel around in the evening after a long day is the best gift, and you find his occasional night patrols to be cruel and unusual punishments. When your arms wrap affectionately around his middle, his hand rests on the back of your head, fingers splaying over and entwining with your hair. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“You’re s’beautiful…” he murmurs into your skin, his words so honest and caring. He hums softly before tilting your head up and taking a kiss. Joel felt that it was the most reassuring thing and so wholly intimate. Your lips, he felt, belonged on his, slotting onto one another like pieces of a jigsaw. Your hand rubs up his back as one of his cups the back of your neck, guiding your head gently. He pulls your body lightly against his, the movement firm but not aggressive. He’s sleepy and sapped, but that doesn’t stop his hands from coasting greedily over your body. Your warm skin always soothes him—evidently, he is harder now, and you feel the pressure wedged against your lower stomach.

Your lips drift apart, still tangled in the other’s arms. It’s clear where Joel wants this to go, and you second the thought.

“You’re gorgeous…” he mutters another compliment, pushing aside a strand of hair from your face. “Just wanna have you forever. I could. Again and again…”

It isn’t clear if Joel entirely knows what he’s saying, but his musings sound promising either way. “You sure you have the stamina for that, old man?” You tease him into his shoulder, your close embrace both tempting and comforting.

“Yes, ma’am,” he states, paying no mind to his own lassitude and achy muscles. How could they even cross his mind? He had you in his arms, your body at his fingertips.

In a mediocre attempt at assuming Joel’s southern drawl, you ask, “Are you fixin’ to prove it to me?”

He chuckles, his voice low and thick. “If that’s what you want,” he feigns nonchalance—albeit, poorly. “I don’t sound like that.”

“Mhm…” By now, your mind is empty, save for one thing. Memories of Joel’s busy schedule have departed from your head, along with all of your external worries, and he is leading you upstairs.

When your back hits the mattress in the palely lit bedroom, you smile softly up at Joel, who is unhooking his belt, pulling it free from the loops. His gaze is roaming over you hungrily, and you can tell that his day has been particularly long by the wanting look in his eye.

You squirm out of your shorts and pull your top over your head as you lay against the cold covers. Dropping the discarded clothes on the floor by the bed, you catch Joel’s eyes as he pushes down his worn and worked jeans, faded dirt staining the heels. His boxers are dark and tented, his necessity for you abundantly clear. He’d like to crawl into your arms, but first, he has to give you what you want and assuage his own frustration. He lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it absentmindedly on the floor.

The bed dips slightly when the weight of Joel’s knees comes to rest on it. You peer up at him as he looks down at you, a dazed and loving smile on his face as his hands are set on your knees, pulling them apart and making room for his broad body between them.

Joel’s lips kiss along your jaw, nipping lightly at your neck. He props his body up with one elbow, the other hand coursing over your skin, trailing over the lace of your bra and down to the fabric of your soft panties. He mindlessly toys with the band, his mind focused on your neck, but quickly shifts his attention to the rest of your body.

Joel is particularly desperate tonight, his hands both restless and spent as they hook under and pull at your underwear. They come off fully, tossed aside on the bed. The air in the room is chilly, but Joel’s form radiates warmth, encasing you with it. You smile softly as his briefs are finally let down and a strong, veined hand wraps around his length. Joel pumps it a few times before teasing his tip along your entrance, and you inhale through your teeth.

You chuckle breathily at the focused look on his face as he nudges himself into you. You brace yourself for the stretch as your eyes watch where his cock hitches inside, before your gaze coasts up to the trail of hair that leads to his belly button, then at his strong chest, and ultimately his face. He slides in before you can look back down, and your eyes narrow as your mouth falls open slightly.

The look on your face was priceless—one Joel had seen many times—but priceless, nonetheless. His first few strokes are slow and relishing, but his impatience forces him to speed up. He has spent the day thinking about you, and will continue to do so long after he drifts to sleep; so, his energy has nowhere to go but into his movements, his hips tapping yours as the room fills with the soft click, click, click of your bodies touching, fluids exchanging.

Your husband’s mouth no longer has the power to contain his grunts of pleasure, soft noises escaping his throat with each movement. Your heavy breaths align with his like a melody, sounding synchronously into the dim bedroom, limbs tangled in blankets and damp skin.

Above you, Joel’s brow is slightly dampened with sweat, his body trying not to succumb to his enervation. Of course you couldn’t hear it, but you could only guess that his heart was beating a bit quicker than it usually did. His hands grip at your hips a little harder as his thrusts hasten, your velvety skin on his fingers consoling him.

Joel might be getting up there, but he was still big. He always would be, and a sound no short of a whine leaves your mouth as your hand rests over his on your hip—a comforting gesture to both him and yourself. The insides of your thighs are slippery, and they slicken Joel’s in turn when your bodies touch.

“Baby…” Joel grumbles, his voice low and nearly inaudible.

Your response is a feeble hum, an affectionate reassurance. “Hm…”

“I’m… shit, I…” his voice trails off. One hand of his is still tightly holding the bone of your hip, guiding and grinding it against his own as his cock disappears into you. His other wipes away the perspiration on his forehead before landing to tightly grip the wooden headboard, the structure bracing Joel’s weight as he drives into you.

“So good, Joel…” you mutter, your eyes drifting shut as he moves inside of you, tip kissing your cervix again and again. Repeatedly, your insides stretch and your pleasure mounts, your eyelids still closed in sheer bliss, stomach tingling from your approaching orgasm, along with your proximity to the man you love.

You swear you hear the wood crack with how hard he holds the head of the bed. His movements become more tense, deliberate. His breath huffs deeply, and at first you suspect that he might be getting close. He usually takes longer than this, but you cannot blame him—his day’s been hard, and he’s needed you. But soon enough, almost as abruptly as he had started, his movements cease. He doesn’t slow, or pull out to finish on your stomach—he stops. Your hips buck imperceptibly at the cessation.

“Sweetheart…” Joel mumbles defeatedly, his hips drawing out a few more slow and shallow strokes before coming to a complete halt. “I can’t. M’ too tired.”

You blink at his admission. You fish deep in your brain for something to say, a caring response, but before you do, he does all he can to hide his reddening face in the crook of your neck.

For a moment, he stays there. His head rests on your shoulder in silence before he breaks it. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry baby.” He mumbles something about a hard day and getting old. You can’t help but card your fingers through his hair, dark and streaked with silver like a tree turning red in autumn. Except, when his leaves fell, they would not be growing back. They would not rejuvenate themselves come spring, ready to dance again in the summer breeze. But you don’t think that winter needs to be hopeless or sad. There isn’t a bone of Joel’s that you don’t love, or a wrinkle you won’t worship. Every doubt—if there ever were any, at all—is waved away, lost to what you love the most about him; and so you giggle into his hair.

“Don’t laugh at me…” he murmurs, embarrassment still permeating his voice.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby. It’s okay,” your head pats lightly on the back of his head. “It’s okay. You’re working like hell.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. He’s a proud man, and letting you down feels like a firm blow to the chest.

“Don’t say sorry,” you smile sweetly as you tilt his head up towards yours. After laying a gentle kiss to his forehead, you add, “It’s alright, Handsome.”

He scoffs under his breath, but can’t stop a sheepish smile from spreading across his lips. He buries his head back into the crook of your neck. As soon as he does, you tilt his face back up again and speak.

“What, you don’t agree?”

He avoids your eyes, looking up off to the side. “I just… y’sure? You think I’m handsome? Y’don’t think… I ain’t enough for you?”

The question catches you off guard and you continue to gaze down at him, your thumb gliding over the side of his face. “Are you being serious?”

No answer on his end, just the same apprehensive look on his face as he refuses to meet your eye.

“Of course I do, Joel. You’re so handsome. Don’t be ridiculous.” You say before adding, “And I think you’re the best guy I could ever ask for, and it doesn’t matter if you’re a little tired sometimes.” You smile.

Joel only grunts when you shift your body until his back is on the pillows. You’re now sitting on his hips, his cock still buried in you—throbbing but forgotten. His hair is disheveled and he looks rather dazed, gazing up at you with a look of admiration and necessity.

Your hand finds its way to cup the side of his face, a position it often assumes; the spot feels like its home. You feel the prickle of his beard on your skin, and you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, wet and a bit chapped from the cold outside. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips, a gentle and slow movement that Joel reacts to, one of his hands coming to grip onto your hip and the other draping over his eyes out of both insecurity and overwhelment.

A heavy breath leaves his mouth as you pull his hand away from his face. He still isn’t quite able to look you in the eye, so you tilt his face toward you once again, your hips rolling in treacherous circles.

A hum leaves your mouth, the look on Joel’s face fueling the fire between your legs. As you move, you let your mouth drop open slightly, wanting to make your pleasure clear to him.

“Feels so good, Joel…” you murmur. “Keep looking at me,” you instruct. You weren’t sure exactly how to get his confidence back up or make him feel better. His head seemed to be in another place, one of penitence and embarrassment. “Y’never told me how nice it is to be on top. Might have to try it more often.” You feel him twitch inside of you. Your fingers continue to trace along his jaw.

Joel groans as your hips grind into his a bit faster, the view of you peering down at him heating up his stomach. “It’s… okay? You’re not disappointed?” He asks, more so to reassure himself.

You chuckle lightly under your breath, his still moving as you choke out, “Of course not…” You hear something close to a whimper leave Joel’s mouth, and you take one of his hands and hold it to your center, between your legs as his thumb begins rubbing your clit. “There you go…”

He is happy to help. Any way you can make him feel appreciated will make him groan under you.

“Oh, wow, Joel…” you continue, your noises growing more prolonged. By now, you could almost cum from his sounds alone, desperate and almost pitiful. His fuck-up hit him hard, and has left him yearning to either make it up to you or push it from his head. His thumb circles you in just the way you like, sending jolts through your body that further energize you, hips still rocking with care and want. A hand laced up into his hair, you murmur, “I’m gonna cum… you’re making me cum, Joel… shit.”

“I’m… me too,” you hear him choke out. He looks entirely out of it, his gaze shifting from your face down to where your flesh surrounds him. You smile, taking a few more rolls of your hips before slowing, pulling out of you his thick length, tip angry, red, and swollen from being still without release. You let your hand run up and down his cock, further smearing the liquids that coat it as you rub him, his mouth falling open slightly.

“Yeah… you’re so pretty, Joel. You’ll always be pretty. Handsome… sweet…” you list, mumbling off whatever kind words you could think off as you stroke his cock, rubbing it occasionally against your clit.

He hisses, pleasure mounting at your tenderness of your touch and the sweetness of your words. Each time your hand travels up his length, he gets closer, and he’s unable to stop himself from spilling over your hand. His thick ropes of cum leak from his weeping slit, a low grunt sounding from somewhere deep in his throat.

A smile spreads across your face, the dribble of white down your hand doing something to you—it always does. “There you go, baby,” you coddle, a kiss to his cheek. “As simple as that.”

Thanks for reading!! feel free to send me an ask

[pascalluvur]

𝒜𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃’

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Joel reluctantly helps elevate the ache between your legs.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Tent sex, MDMI, tiny bit of mean!joel, guided masturbation, fingering, PiV sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, virginity loss, praise kink, slight oral (m receiving, one daddy mention, mutual orgasms and age gap (50s/20s)

𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: Tent on the way to Wyoming.

𝐏𝐎𝐕: 2nd person.

𝐖𝐂: 3.6k

꧁❦✯✫彡

The tent is small. Barely enough room for both you and Joel, but it’s warm with both your breaths and the shitty sleeping bags that you both looted from Bill and Franks. Outside the world is dark, thick and quiet-but not eerily so. The trees are alive and you can hear them creak gently as they sway in the light wind. There’s only one problem. The ache between your legs.

It started earlier in the car, before you both decided to stop here for the night and that was five fucking hours ago. It started with a soft pulse between your thighs, but grew to your untouched cunt clenching everytime you looked at Joel or if he muttered something vague in that Texas drawl. Your nipples were hardened underneath your bra and everything felt hot. Your skin was flushed. Joel even asked you if you were okay at one point, and Joel never asks that.

You didn’t know what it was- well yeah, you did. You were twenty-two, not stupid. You just hadn’t ever felt this needy before. You didn’t understand what brought it on. Sure you’d felt this way before back when you were living in your dingy apartment in Boston, but the world was so dark and unsafe that you never took care of it. But it was never this intense. You were facing Joel, laying on your side. He was on his side too but facing the other way like he always did. There was probably a couple inches between you considering how small the tent was and that just made your situation even worse. Joel wasn’t much of a talker. You had known him for five months now and he’s saved your ass more times than you can count. He was initially supposed to be taking you to Salem to meet with the fireflies, but things didn’t exactly go to plan so now you were both heading for Wyoming to see Joel’s brother, an ex-firefly who may know where they are. He was pretty closed off and probably would prefer not to listen to your yapping, but you both formed some sort of a bond over the last couple months. And to be honest, you don’t know what you’d do without him.

His broad shoulders moved a little with each breath he took, but you could tell he wasn’t sleeping. Five months on the road together meant you could practically read him like a book. The ache between your thighs was almost unbearable now. You did try and elevate the ache with your hand earlier when Joel turned around, but every time it started to feel good, it slipped away and just made you even more frustrated. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Joel?” you whispered. He didn’t answer but his shoulders tensed a little at your voice. You knew he was awake and probably just pretending he was asleep so he didn’t have to listen to you nagging him.

“Joel,” you said again, not in a whisper anymore.

“What?” he snapped out. Not bothering to turn around. Normally, the snap in his voice would make you wince, but right now you just needed someone to help you out.“I.. i don’t feel good.”

You don’t feel good? What the fuck did you say that for. God, you shouldn’t have opened your mouth at all in the first place. You were going to sound so goddamn stupid.

He turned around at that, rolling onto his other side to face you. It was too dark in the tent to his face, but you could see the curve of his jaw and the bump of his noise.

God, this man was so sexy right now.

He leaned over and switched on the battery powered lantern to see you better. He actually looked concerned. Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. He’s probably gonna think you’re infected or something.

“What d’ya mean ya don’t feel good?”

“Uh..” you paused. What were you meant to say now? Oh yeah Joel, I am so fucking horny right now, can you fuck me to make me feel better? God, this was humiliating.

He sat up in his sleeping bag and twisted his body to watch you properly. “What kid? Spit it out, some of us actually wanna sleep tonight.”“I just feel weird- like my body- uhm.. between my legs.”

He was quiet for a beat, looking at you like his brain couldn’t register that you actually said that to him. His hand came up to his face and ran down it exhaustively.

You chewed on your bottom lip, afraid to say anything in case you made this incredibly embarrassing situation any worse. You just sat up and brought your knees to your chest, tucking them under your chin, pressing them together for obvious reasons.

“Christ,” he muttered. “Why’r ya tellin’ me this, for god sakes.” Your cheeks burned and you refused his gaze. God, you felt like a stupid kid. This was humiliating.

“Just.. thought you could help me..”

“Jesus..” he said, switching the lantern off and laying back down. He turned over on his side, facing away from you once again. But, this time he scooted further away from you, as if you’d pounce on him if he was any closer to you.

You felt humiliated. If a clicker came along right now, you would gladly hand yourself to it. But still, as if the embarrassment wasn’t enough, your panties were still damp and your clit pretty much had a heartbeat of its own. You squirmed around in the sleeping bag, trying to find a position that was more comfortable in your.. situation, but nothing worked. Before you could stop yourself, a soft whimper escaped your mouth from frustration of how badly you ached. Joel stilled and so did you.

“What the fuck was that?” He said, turning over again, his voice etched with frustration that made your cheeks once again, burn. You opened your mouth and tried to find the words to respond that didn’t make you look like a complete fool. “I uhm..”

“Listen, I ain’t your fuckin’ boyfriend. You’re cargo. I didn’t take you to show you how to finger yourself. Either get out of tent and get yourself off, or go to sleep.”

If you were feeling any other way, his harshness would probably make your throat tighten. But right now, the way he was speaking to you made you want him to do unholy things to you. You stomach fluttered and you clenched around nothing. This was pathetic.

“I just- please Joel, I don’t know what else to do, I can’t just.. get myself off, I don’t know how.” You whined.

“You’re- what? Jesus girl, your twenty somethin’ years- anyway, doesn’t matter it ain’t my problem. You’re a big girl, figure it out.” He barked. You could hear his sleeping back rustle as he brought it up higher over him, as if to shield himself from this conversation.

“Joel, please! It aches, it has all day. I promise I won’t ask for anything else- you don’t even have to touch me-just tell me how and then we can go to sleep I promise.” You babbled out sitting up and crawling over to the lantern to turn it on. You sat back on your hunches, watching Joel squint from the sudden invasion of his eyes.

“Fuck- fine, fine! But this ain’t gonna be a..” he gestured between you both. “-a thing, between us. I’ll help ya with this but that’s it then, no more.” He said settling on his back and running both hands over his face.

Your eye’s widened. Sure you wanted this, but you didn’t expect him to actually agree. “Yeah- yeah I promise, just this once I swear.”

He huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright then uh- lay back down and take your pants off.” He said, keeping his gaze at the roof of the tent. You lay back against the sleeping bag and took your jeans and soaked-through panties off with the kind of urgency that would be embarrassing if you weren’t so fucking turned on. You settled back comfortably on your back and tried to control your breating, your heart thrumming in your ears. “Okay, open your legs and dip your middle finger through your slit- bring it to your clit.”

A confused expression formed on your face and you turned your face toward him, questioning without speaking. “‘S a lil bump at the top, it’ll make ya feel good.” He said, closing his eyes as if that will make this highly inappropriate situation with a girl young enough to be his daughter any better. You did as he said, dipping your middle finger through your folds and coating them in your slick. You let out a shuddering breath as you dragged it up to that bundle of untouched nerves at the top of your slit. “Okay-,” you said, waiting for your next instruction.

“Then, start circling it, nice n slow. Put a little pressure down on it.” He said, but now with a slight rasp in his voice. You twisted your head a little to get a look at him. He was shuffling around a little in the sleeping bag, adjusting himself. Was he getting off on this?

You, nonetheless did as he told you. You pressed down slightly on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. You gave yourself a second to get used to it before starting to circle, nice and slow just like Joel instructed.

Your fingers moved clumsily at first, but you eventually got the hang of it. Your hips bucked up uncontrollably into your hand, seeking more friction as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Joel,” you whimpered.

“What is it? It hurt?” He said in a surprisingly soft coo-like rasp. But there was still an under lying annoyance. It made your body heat up and your lips part in another moan.

“A little, but feels good.”

He nodded. “S’okay, just the build. You’re doin’ fine.”

You cried out suddenly, your pace on your clit quickening rapidly, causing more arousal to drip from your weeping hole.

“F-fuck..”

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Ye-ah, gonna come..”

Joel face screwed up, his composure slipping away. The way you bucked your hips up, the way you called his name and the noises, fuck the noises.. it was too much. The voice in his head was screaming at him to control himself, but his throbbing cock had other plans. He shot up from his position, ignoring the ache in his back when he did.

You stilled your movements when he did, your hand trembling slightly. Your voice came out breathless and desperate. “What are you-,”

His body was over you before you could finish your sentence, pressing sloppy kisses to your mouth, his hand cradling your cheek. You quickly responded to his kisses, a whine clawing out of your parred lips. Your hands moved up to his neck, cupping it softly, your thumbs running over the patches of hair there.

He broke the kiss, but didn’t go far. His face hovered over yours and his uneven breath fanned over your face. “I need to know you’re sure you want this baby- eyes up here,” he said gripping your chin and forcing you to look him in his eyes. “I need you to use your words for me.”

You nodded, looking between his two eyes rapidly. “I want it-please- can’t wait any longer.”

That was all he needed.

He worked his flannel off, undoing each button eagerly and pushing it off his shoulders. You thought it was only fair you took off your shirt too, so you sat up a little and took your Henley top off, tossing it aside and unclasping your bra. By the time you were done, Joel’s cock was already out, the tip red and angry. It was your first time ever seeing a penis. You grew up an orphan in the QZ and were thrown out to fend for yourself by the time you were eighteen. You never got involved with anyone, too dangerous so it wasn’t like you had ever seen a real one except from a diagram when you were learning about penis anatomy in biology class. It was daunting to look at to say the least.

He was at least seven inches, heavy balls with a patch of dark hair around his cock and sack. You bit down on your lip and before your could stop yourself, your hand wrapped around the base. Joel groaned, dropping his head down to your forehead.

“Fuck baby girl, such a sweet girl.” He mumbled.

“Can you tell me what to do?” You whispered. Your voice would probably be incoherent if you both weren’t so close.

“You don’t have-,”

“But I want to.”

Joel froze, then leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Okay. Bring your hand to your mouth and get it nice ‘n wet.”

Your eyes dilated, your lip caught between your teeth. You brought your hand up to your mouth and gathered some saliva in your mouth, letting it drop down into your hand.

“Juustt like that baby, now just squeeze a little, stroke up and down.”

You nodded your head and brought your spit-slick hand back down to his cock and wrapped it around his shaft. You gave his cock a small, gentle squeeze as you stroked it once. A rumbling groan from Joel’s chest spurred you on, so you continued.

Joel’s hand covered yours, guiding your movements as his eyes fluttered closed. “Ah-fuck.. just like that honey, jerk my cock.”

Your lungs punched out a moan. Seeing him getting off like this was making your pussy drip like a goddamn faucet. Watching Joel’s face contort in pleasure was definitely something you never wanted to forget. The feeling of the soft skin of his hard cock in your hand felt better than any sex could.

He abruptly moved your hand off him and cupped your cheeks. His lips came to yours in a desperate kiss, firmer this time. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek while you both kissed. “You haven’t done this before?” He mumbled against your lips.

You pulled back and shook your head. “No.. but I’m ready.” You said, breathlessly, hands clinging to his biceps. You could see slight hesitation in his expression, but nonetheless, his hand trailed down to your pussy, lightly testing the waters. His middle finger pressed down on your quivering hole, checking to see how ready you were.

“Fuck baby girl, she’s just cryin’ f’me ain’t she? Just needs some lovin’,”

“Mhm.. needs you..”

“Yeah well, we gotta get her ready first, don’t wanna hurt ya honey. Gonna just use my fingers first and then I’ll give ya the real thing, promise.”

“Okay.” You breathed out.

Joel eased his fingers into your untouched hole, but got two in easily from how soaked you were all day. At first it felt a little strange- not painful just.. foreign. But as soon as he was knuckles deep, curling them up with his thumb on your clit, pleasure easily started taking over. At first, an overwhelmed moan left your mouth, but Joel quickly soothed you with his words and gentle kisses on your face.

“That’s it baby, just breath through it.”

“Doin’ so well baby.”

“Just feel it honey, feel my fingers hittin’ that little spot.”

Overstimulated and aching for release, you cried out his name, clinging to his biceps as you bucked your hips up into his hand. “Yes, yes- thank you j-oel- ah!” The coil in your belly was building rapidly and intensified with every thrust of his fingers pressing against your g-spot and every circle on your clit.

“Come on baby, give it to me. You gonna make a mess for me?” He rumbled into your ear. You were so fucked out that you could barely concentrate on what he was saying. Before you knew it, you were crying out, tears streaming down your face as you experienced your first orgasm. Your pussy rippled and clenched around Joel’s fingers as you collapsed into the sleeping bag. Chest heaving.

“There you go baby. Did so well.” He cooed, lips trailing from your neck down to your breast. Joel caught a peak in his mouth and sucked gently on it. The feeling caught you off guard, who knew someone sucking on your nipple could feel so good. You could feel a drop of arousal dribble out of your overstimmed hole. “Joel..” you called, hands in his hair.

“Mmm? Can you handle more? You don’t gotta do nothin’ you’re not comfortable with sweet girl.”

“No-no I want it-please Joel.” You responded eagerly. The thought of him not being inside you in the next two minutes made you crazy. A rare smirk formed on Joel’s face as he leaned down to kiss you gently.

“I know that’s right.” He mumbled, lips brushing yours gently as he gripped his cock in one hand. The tip of him brushed your clit, making you shiver.

Joel’s voice was gentle as he pushed inside, his fat tip stretching you deliciously. The feeling was overwhelming to say the least, but you felt that you would die if he stopped. He distracted you from the burn with sweet kisses and before you knew it, he was balls deep. When the realisation hit you, you cried out, dropping your head back against your pack in which you were using as a pillow. It was so much better than his fingers. Joel groaned pressing his face into your neck as he started to thrust in and out.

The thrusts were slow, more of a grind than anything, but he was so deep his tip kissing that spot so well. Your hands scrambled around his neck, pulling his chest flush to yours.

“Feel so.. full Joel.”

“That’s right honey. Stuffed up huh?”

At that he pulled back, looking at where you were both joined. Watching how he stretched you. “Ohhh biiig stretch baby. ‘M so proud of you.”

“I love being stretched for you.. so much joel.” You said, a sob escaping your plush lips as he thrusted in deeply.

Something snapped in Joel when you said it. Whatever it was, it made him throw his head back, both hands gripping your belly as he picked up the pace just slightly.

“Ohhh.. baby girl.” He groaned out head now falling forward. With each thrust a bulge formed in your belly. It caused Joel to use one of his hands to trace the outline of him.

“You feel me right there honey? Feel how perfect we fit?” He said, other hand travelling down your belly to your clit and circling it.

That was it.

In a matter of seconds you were falling apart, thighs shaking, tent filling with the sounds of your sobs and cries. White flashes clouded your vision and with one big clench, you soaked his cock.

This seemed to push joel over the edge because he was now not just grunting and groaning, but moaning your name. The feeling was euphoric. Joel pulled out, his hand reaching for his cock to finish on your belly. Before his hand could wrap around you grabbed his hand, pushing it away.

“What-,”

Before he could finish, you had him rolled over. You were straddling his lap with a dizzy head from the orgasm you literally just had. You crawled down his body and settled between his legs. It’s not like you exactly knew what you were doing, but all you knew was that you wanted to give him the same attention he gave you.

“Oh baby..” he said in more of a whine than anything. “You don’t gotta do that honey, you’re exhausted.”

“Please let me.” You said softly, puppy dog eyes looking directly up at joel as you held his member in your hand and kitten licked it, eliciting a groan from him. “Please daddy.”

That was it, joel pushed your head down, not hard, just hard enough that your mouth wrapped around his cock. His hips stuttered and he came in your mouth. All from hearing you call him daddy. Thick ropes of cum coated your tongue, your taste buds memorising the taste of him. Joel’s head thumped back as he came, an: “ohhh,” sound coming out of his parted lips.

You had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a one time thing.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Updated Word Count: ~90k

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Content Warning: In order to avoid spoilers I will not be warning you of everything. This story will contain sexually explicit material around the world of BDSM. Please remember that even with the age gap betweeen Joel and Reader, they are both legal and consenting adults. Although my intentions are never to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. That being said, as a survivor of sexual assault none of this story will contain dubcon or consensual non consent. At the heart of it all, this is a love story.

AN: I figured that @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @burntheedges and @joelmillerisapunk are all sick of me yelling at them about this story so I should start sharing! Thank you to the 4 of you for all your kind words and encouragement. To the 800+ of you that follow me, thank you for being such beautiful souls and encouraging me to work on my craft. I hope you love this series as much as I love each and every one of you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Part One

Chapter 5 - Part Two

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for updates.

[xmissrogersx]

I just know it, darlin’ | Joel Miller

tags: reader is pregnant, ellie and Joel being protective, joel being a daddy’s girl of course.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila’s materlist

Ellie was in her room with Dina. Both were reading old comics.

-Hey, it's great that you're going to have a sister…—the brunette said with emotion.

-Or brother, this people doesn’t wanna know it yet. But yes, it's great and everything... the wait doesn't end anymore —Ellie sighed.

-Why do you say that? María told me that a pregnant woman is sometimes more sensitive, but I don't think Paris is like that, is she?

-Well... -Ellie said under her breath, not wanting to sound too obvious. She loves the blonde very much, who looked like a motherly figure for her in every way possible.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

-Hush little baby don't say a word, papa's going to buy a mockingbird!

Paris entered the kitchen singing with a microphone, that on Maria's recommendation, the baby could hear the voices of her parents.

Joel was having his morning coffee when he heard his wife enter, and then snorted under his breath and brought his right hand to between his brows.

Ellie was having her cereal for breakfast, raising both hands to her ears and resting her head against the table.

-And if the mockingbird won't sing, papa's going to buy a diamond ring.

-Papa is going to buy 10 diamonds just to shut up that fucking bird —the girl whispered to her father, who silenced her, not wanting Paris to listen.

-What do you want for lunch today? —the young woman asked both of them.

-Whatever you want, darlin’ —Joel replied, stroking her hand, which made the girl start tearing her up.

-Oh, not again —Ellie begged. When Paris started with the "hormonal crying" session it was difficult to stop her.

-You're so sweet —between hiccups and small tears that went down her cheeks.

-Okay, I'm going, I’m late to meet Jesse.

Getting up to quickly go to the door, the blonde stopped her so she wouldn't forget her lunch.

-Thank you.

-I put you a chocolate with extra peanut that I bought the week before, you deserve it for your great first patrol, baby.

The girl hugged her as best she could because of the woman's big belly, who was already starting to cry again.

-It's okay, I'm leaving —Ellie ran to the door.

-I have to go with Tommy, beautiful —Joel announced while hugging her from behind. Paris sighed.

-It's okay... I guess you have to go, you have no choice —she walked away to start climbing the stairs slowly.

-He wants to show me the plans for the new houses...

-I know, I understand. Well, then I'll go upstairs, to our room...

While the young woman said those words, she began to unbutton her shirt, and lower her skirt, revealing a set of black lingerie with lace that made Joel not remember how to breathe.

-Do you think I should lie down and take it out? I'm feeling a little hot.

-It would be a mistake if I say no. You're beautiful, baby girl —he exclaimed with a dark look.

The blonde smiled under her breath.

-So, do you have to go with Tommy?

-Fuck Tommy.

Joel take her in his arms to go up to their room.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Paris sat on the couch next to her husband, who was reading an old construction manual.

-Officially there are only 2 months left to meet him —the blonde exclaimed excitedly to Joel, who approached her to place a kiss on his lips, and then another on his bulging belly.

-Don't you want to the baby hear your voice? Maria said he must listen to the voices of both parents.

-Baby, I think she already listens to me without needing that thing, don't worry, the baby will know our voices.

-¿she? ¿how do you know is a girl? —Paris raise an eyebrow.

-I Just know it, darlin’ — and he relaxed, believing that he had ended the subject.

The woman nodded taking his hand, and then took the microphone again.

-Twinkle twinkle, little lamb! —Joel was startled by his girlfriend's scream.

-Paris, please don't sing anymore -he speak as wisely as I could.

-Why? —she asked surprised.

-Because... you don't sing very well, baby...

-You finally told her —a voice roared behind them.

The blonde opened her mouth in indignation, looking at her partner and daughter, to get ready to answer the accusation.

-Calm down, we don't want the baby to hear us fight. Come, let's go for an ice cream.

-How dare you, you..

-Hey, we said no fights in front of the baby.

-That's ridiculous, I'm always in front of the baby, Joel —she pointed to her big belly.

-Paris just calm down, okay? When all this is over, we will laugh at this —Ellie appeased.

-Your out-of-tune songs, your nocturnal cravings, your incessant cries... we love you, but it's already getting very unbearable —the girl listed.

-You're going through something huge, baby, it's normal. It will be over, soon —Joel finished.

The woman saw them with a grimace on her face, and then smiled falsely.

-You are two tiny little man to me right now — she approached slowly making a gesture of crushing with his fingers.- and you must leave this house to return with more respect, and a pizza!

Father and daughter were stunned, they didn't expect Paris reaction.

-Pizza sounds good —he said, cutting the silence.

-Yes, I'm hungry for pizza —Ellie replied.

Before leaving, they both walked to the blonde to kiss her on each cheek, who was with her arms crossed and with her eyebrow raised.

-With double cheese —the young woman demanded.

-Yes, darlin’ —Joel replied, and then went out the door.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

-Wow —said an amazed Dina to her friend.

-Yep, althought I partly understand her, it must be horrible to carry that heavy —the girl moved her hands to her belly.

A knock on the door made both girls scream their heads, seeing a blonde hair.

-Girls, I don't want to ruin your fun, but it's already past 10; and tomorrow you have training. Go to sleep. Ellie, you already know how your father gets.

-I already want him to be born —Ellie settled inside her sheets, to which the young woman wrapped her.

-Just like me, I can't stand not being able to see my feet anymore —she exclaimed, causing the girl a laugh.-Good night sweetheart.

-Good rest, ma —the girl replied, causing a jump in Paris heart.

Paris went out the bedroom door to see her man lying on the wall, who smiled to see her emotion.

-It's already the third time she tells me "ma" -she sobbed with joy, to which Joel took her face to bring their breaths closer and merge into one.

They moved away for lack of air, but without ceasing to look at each other with the same love they had seen for 3 years.

-You are, baby. You're her mother.

Paris felt blessed. The world would be chaos, but his world was perfect.

Hello baby girls!

I hope you have seen the references of Modern Family! Personally MF is my fav comedy series.

If you help me by sharing my story on your profiles you would help me a lot, I love writing very much, I feel that great things are coming. And with you reading my stories, the more I want to do them.

Thank you for reading!

Priscila🌸

[iamthatonefangirl]

relax - nsfw jackson era joel miller

writing (and hopefully posting) this before tonight's episode comes out bc. well. you all know.

not my best bc i am sick but this was on my mind<3

~~~

"that's it, pretty girl, come on over here," he encourages.

you're exhausted. every muscle in your body is yelling at you to go home and get some sleep. but you'd rather be here, in Joel's office with him, waiting for him to finish up.

"Joel, I can just–"

"be awfully rude o' me to keep you waiting, darlin'," he drawls in that beautiful southern accent of his. he's ever the gentleman, knowing he has to work but wanting to make sure you know that you are his priority.

you hang your head and pull yourself off of the doorway you're leaning on. you make your way over to where he's sitting, still at his desk, with those glasses on, the ones that make your head absolutely spin with desire.

you reach your hands out in front of you to take his as you stand in front of him, and he tightly holds onto them, not letting you go anywhere. your eyes are weary and part of you just wants to go sit on his couch and nap. you consider it, but deep down, you crave his touch more than anything.

"c'mere, darlin'. come on," he encourages once more, gently tugging on your hands to urge you closer. he spreads his legs apart, pulling you to stand hovering over his thigh before sitting you down on it.

his hands come to wrap around your waist. you rest your head on his shoulder, almost half asleep. his hair tickles your nose from having grown out.

you fucking love his longer hair. it makes him look so pretty, so good, all your own.

his hands are warm against you, his body heat seeping into your cold bones. your eyes stay shut as he tilts his face towards you, whispering, "want me to make you feel better, sweetheart?"

you nod against his shoulder. he always makes you feel so good, takes all your worries away. you're so grateful for him, making sure you're always taken care of, even now when he's supposed to be working.

his hands adjust to center themselves on your hips while yours remain gently wrapped around his torso.

"don't gotta move a muscle, babygirl," he assures you. "just let me take care o' ya."

his voice is like molasses in your ears, and you feel yourself melting against him. he slowly begins rocking your hips against his leg, ever so slowly. you turn your head to face downwards, pressing your forehead to his shoulder, and let out a low whine at the feeling he's stirring within you.

"shh, shh," he whispers, still dragging your hips so gently over his thigh, "just relax."

his strength to move you against him is no match for the friction of your denim pants against his. all you feel is the comfortable pressure of his leg between yours, gently rocking you in a perfect rhythm to ease the stress in your mind and help lure you into that sleepy state you're near.

you settle, as instructed, leaning all your weight against him as he continues to help build the heat you feel between your thighs.

"Joel," you whine, "'s good."

"yeah? you like that?" he begins. "bet you'd like me to take you home, wouldn't you? fuck you so soft, it'll put you to sleep, baby. would ya like that, baby, huh?"

you whine. that sounds like heaven.

"please," you whisper.

"oh, I will, baby. I will," he reassures you. "just need you to finish right here, baby. then I'll take you home. I'll put my mouth on you real nice, just the way you like, yeah?"

that's all you want. to go home, take a hot shower, and just let him worship you.

your whole body warms as the pressure of him against you finally takes over. your climax is ever so soft, a gentle release of the pressure and stress of your mind, all washing away. you whine when it happens, and any tension you might have had left in your bones falls away.

he's always there when you need him, always there to take on your stressors and anxieties as his own. he's your backbone, always supporting you when you need it the most.

and even when you fall, he'll be there to catch you.

~~~

this was my first work for joel and i need practice and it's kind of overshadowed by the fact that i have to go watch s2 e2 after this but oh well <3

masterlist

join my tag list

joel tag list:

@clavedelune @bananababygirl10

[pennyold]

A calm morning with your husband Joel Miller bringing you the breakfast to bed, and your son cuddling with you | everything is fluff

a/n: this is the most beautiful blurb i have ever wrote, its the cutes seeing husband!joel taking care of his wife and son during a Sunday mornin, makes my heart melt. i don’t think i could let go this Joel. i could never let him go, trust me, he’s my empire rn.

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

Joel was preparing your breakfast while his son Trevor sat comfortably at the table, watching television. He placed the food on a small table, carried it to the counter, and his son watched him, thinking about his mom immediately "Is mommy not coming down to eat?" Joel shook his head and gently kissed Trev's head, "Mommy is exhausted, I'll take the food to her bed, will you come with me?" he proposed to his son and the little boy nodded quickly without hesitation, getting off the island chair.

He took the pants of pajamas from his dad while going up the stairs, following him. Upon reaching the door of the room you shared with Joel, Trev took the doorknob and opened it quietly, not wanting to wake you. But you were already up, sitting in the middle of the bed with your back against the headboard. "Oh," you watched as Joel approached the bed, with the tray in his hands. You were wordless, your heart melted. "For the most perfect mom," he said as he placed the tray on your lap, kissed your cheek, and sat beside you.

Trev climbed onto the bed and sat next to you, you wrapped your arm around his back and hugged him, "My sweet boys, it looks delicious!" The food looked amazing, Joel had outdone himself this time, he wasn't one to cook daily, but he enjoyed it. "Try it and tell me if I end up like you." Joel smiled at you while crossing his arms. "Dad cooks delicious!" Trevor commented, excited. "Really? Well, let's give it a try."

You praised Joel a lot, he had put a lot of effort into getting your flavor, and he had succeeded. He wanted to please you for being such a good mother and wife, you are the world to him, just like Trevor, who had already fallen asleep by your side. Joel removed the table from the bed and set it aside, cuddled up with you, and placed a kiss on your cheek. "It was missing a bit of flavor," you whispered playfully. "Really?" he furrowed his brows. You laughed and rested your head on his shoulder. "I'm just playing, love" Joel shot you a look, "You hurt my feelings," he said dramatically while clutching his chest.

That Sunday you spend it at home, all of you in bed and watching movies. You enjoyed being together and spending time as a family. Like the beautiful family you have with Joel.

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[onlyheluvsme]

˗ˏˋdainty rings´ˎ˗

in which joel proposes — mdni, lowercase intended, established relationship, age gap [60s & 20s], fluff, mentions of: death, marriage, god *ೃ༄pls leave reqs!!

your head laid in joel's lap as his hands combed through your hair. it was finally warm in jackson and joel wanted to take the rare opportunity to show you a clearing he had found on patrol.

a worn gingham blanket laid beneath the both of you, the food you had packed sat mostly eaten next to you. the two of you had been out there for hours and sun had just began to set, shades of pink and purple on the horizon. it felt like the most peace the two of you had gotten in a while.

“i thought i would die alone, you know” you heard his southern drawl cut the calm silence from above you and your eyes snapped open, all sense of tranquility leaving your body. what?

joel’s hand paused its brushing in your hair, his eyes not on your face but on the disappearing sun, lightly squinting. without wasting another second you sat up, twisting to face him head on.

“joel what are you-” you frown with a slight shake of your head but he cuts you off with a light laugh,

“when i made it back to jackson with ellie i jus’ thought..” he paused sighing, “i been in this world a long time darlin, done some bad things” he finally looked at you but something haunted in his eyes.

one of his hands came up to your cheek, his thumb lightly began back and forth under your eye,

“i ain’t done nothing to deserve you, spent half my life killing people, i don’t understand how i get love you” he spoke in something close to a whisper, enough to drown out the crickets and breeze passing through the branches and leaves.

“ain’t never believed in a god till you but only something supernatural could've gotten you to me and every damn night i pray i get to keep you” his right hand ransacked his pocket but your chest was tight, ears were too hot, and your eyes were too blurry with tears to notice.

he continued,

“i know it don’t mean much now but i come from a time where this showed someone you loved ‘em and wanted to be with them, and fuck baby do i love you” he’s eyes guided your down to his calloused hand where a dainty ring was held between his two large fingers.

you eyes widen in shock; jaw going slack.

“marry me baby, even if its only a ring and we ain’t got no one to officiate-” your hands shot to his face and you kissed the poor man to finally shut him up.

“yes, yes, joel, yes” you speak into his mouth.

his hands instinctively go around your waste when he remembers the ring. slowly pulling back, he takes your left hand in his, slipping the slightly too large ring onto your finger.

“i can get tommy to make it smaller” he says slightly breathless as you both stare down at your ring finger and its new accessory.

you wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you into his lap leaving light kisses around your face. after a few seconds of soaking him in you pull back, wanting a good look at him.

“i love you” you take his hand and press it into your cheek.

“and i love you, sweet girl” his hand splays into your nape pulling you in for a quick kiss.

“you really okay with being stuck with me for the rest of your life? y’know that comes with ellie too” he jokes finding different spots on your face to trace with his fingers.

your eyes widen in excitement and you jump up, “oh my god come on! we have to get back and tell ellie!”

joel laughs and slowly makes his way onto his feet, knee pain and all. as the two of you collect the remnants of your [favorite] date, you chat joel’s ear off about how excit you are to tell ellie. joel's mostly silent, thanking whatever supernatural power that decided to bless him with the two most perfect girls.

[joel masterlist]

[tightjeansjavi]

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆ Tinsel ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

A/N: all I gotta say is..WHEN IS IT MY TURN DAMMIT 🥲

joel deserves nice things™ ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

~word count: 4.9k~

pairing | boyfriend! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: it’s Christmas and we’re all in misery, but your Texas hunk of a boyfriend makes sure that this holiday season you feel loved.

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mommy issues for the reader, typical holiday angst, readers mother is a bitch, mentions of smoking and consuming alcohol, unprotected piv, dom/sub vibes, fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, cock warming, light ass slapping, unconditional love, Sarah and Ellie exist in this universe (Ellie is adopted) best friend! Tommy, close family vibes, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, Tommy is like a big brother to the reader, reader has no physical descriptions, there is one scene where Joel picks the reader up, no age gap, Christmas traditions, +18, minors dni! Please let me know if I missed anything!

“Hey, babe?” You chimed from the living room. Both hands on your hips as you peered up at your beautifully decorated Christmas tree. “Do you think the tree could use some more tinsel?”

Your boyfriend, Joel Miller was in the kitchen with Sarah and Tommy who were on cookie duty, while Joel was crafting together the best goddamn gingerbread house your mother would ever see in her lifetime. (You hoped)

“Here she goes again with the tinsel.” Sarah giggled, gently nudging her uncle with her elbow.

Joel gave his daughter a playful warning glare before picking up a dusting of flour between his fingers and threw it at her with a grin. “Be nice, baby girl. Y’know how her mom is with this stuff. Everythin’ has gotta be perfect.”

“I’ll be there in just a sec, honey!” He called back, brushing his flour coated hands on his apron and retreated from the kitchen while Tommy and Sarah snickered.

“I still think we should add more tinsel, Joel. Maybe more ornaments? If she sees a single bald spot on the tree—” you’re caught off guard from bare, broad arms wrapping around your waist from behind. His aquiline nose brushes the exposed bit of skin along your neckline. He inhales deeply, smelling of cinnamon, clove, and ginger with a hint of Joel.

“Baby,” he rasps warm and deep, lips pressing to your warmed skin with affectionate sweetness. “The tree is gorgeous. I don’t see any bald spots.” A gentle squeeze to your hips, followed by another peck.

“But—” your voice falls short.

You melt back into his arms the way that marshmallows do in steaming hot chocolate. Pliant in his hold, suppressing a giggle when the scratchy bits of his patchy beard gently scrape your skin.

“But nothin’, baby. How about you help frost the cookies, hm? Get your mind off this damn tinsel.” You feel his lips curve into a smile along your skin. His chuckle vibrates up his chest and through your sweater covered spine. His hands drop from your hips, settling against the curve of your back, fingertips slipping into the denim pockets.

Cheeky.

A grumbled sigh from your lips, agreement, for the time being. The topic of tinsel would be brought up again. Your hand floated upwards towards his face, fingertips ghosting the patchy spots that you loved to press hidden kisses to. A finger hooks around his jaw, pulling him downwards to meet you in a kiss.

He obliges to your silent request. His nose brushes yours eliciting a sweet giggle to pass through your parted lips. The sounds of Santa Baby drowns out in the background. White noise compared to the steady thumping of yours and Joel’s synchronized hearts.

“I’ll be bringing up the tinsel again, Joel.” You murmur through the palpable warm tension.

“I know you will, darlin’” he tuts playfully, “But shh. Less talkin’, baby. Kiss me, doll.” He all but demands. The gap between you is closed. He kisses you sweetly, squeezing your flesh below the denim fabric. You swat playfully, melting once more when his tongue swipes your lower lip, testing—

“Ain’t hearin’ much talkin’ goin’ on in there!” Tommy remarks from the opening of the kitchen. Smirk plastered.

It’s Joel’s turn to grumble. A hint of annoyance on his breath. He breaks away from the kiss begrudgingly, but not before he can whisper just for your ears to hear, “we’ll finish this later.” Shortly followed by an encouraging pat to your jean clad ass, and a nudge towards the kitchen.

“These cookies ain’t gonna frost themselves!”

“Relax, brother. We’re coming!” Joel shoots you a wink with a suggestive tilt of his chin in your direction. The simple action alone sends a wave of arousal gushing through the thin fabric of your panties. A jolt, like a bolt of lighting.

4 years of dating your Texas hunk, and the sparks were still flying.

Sarah and Tommy both give you and Joel a cheeky little grin once you appear in the kitchen. An apron is tossed in your direction. Your eyes roll playfully with a shake of your head.

Joel returns to his gingerbread house making when you realizing that there’s one more member missing. “Is Ellie still asleep?” You ask while glancing at the clock along the wall.

“Must be. I’ll go and drag her out of bed.” Joel announced. He untied his apron and laid it flat across the table. He brushed past you on his way out of the kitchen.

Ellie Miller was in fact still dead asleep when he quietly pushed open her bedroom door. “Ohh Jelly Bean.” He cooed, using her least favorite nickname purposely.

A pillow was tossed carelessly in his direction with the intent to hit him, but Joel was ready for it and ducked out of the way. “C’mon, baby girl. It’s half past 10 and we could really use your help downstairs.” Joel said while reaching for the comforter to yank back.

“Can’t the cookies frost themselves? Y’know how I feel about the holidays, Dad.” She grumbled with her face squished into her pillow.

“Mhm. I sure do. Just a buncha commercialized crap around a jolly big ole’ fat man that breaks into people's houses, steals their cookies, and leaves crap under the tree. The only cool part of Santa Claus is his reindeer.” Joel said monotonically.

“You’re forgetting the bit where Rudolph is the coolest because of—”

“His bright shinin’ red nose. See, I remember these things, kiddo. Now, please get on up and help us out. If you don’t wanna frost the cookies, then you can help me finish with the gingerbread houses. Fair deal?” Joel crossed his arms against his chest while he awaited her response.

Ellie let out a long, dramatic sigh before she slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. I’ll come down and help out.” She grumbled.

“Thank you, grinchy.” He said teasingly while she shot him a playful glare. “There’s coffee downstairs too, if ya want any.”

Her nose turned upwards as she let out a disgusted sound. “Gross. Y’know how I feel about that stuff. It’s nasty. Smells like burnt shit. Don’t know how you drink that crap.” She grimaced.

“Hot chocolate?” He suggested with a warm grin.

“Now we’re talkin.’” She grinned.

Once the cookies were properly frosted, and the two gingerbread houses were fashioned, it was time for a well deserved break. Tommy volunteered to take Sarah and Ellie out sledding and then lunch while Joel stayed back to help you clean the kitchen.

Your boyfriend had his own idea of ‘cleaning’ and taking a break. You had just started the dishes when you felt his warm presence envelop and invade your senses. His strong arms were wrapped around you once more, and the tip of his broad nose was pressed into your neck, curls tickling your cheekbones.

“Have you come to help me with washing duty, baby?” You asked softly when his lips pressed an opened mouth kiss to your exposed skin. You learned very quickly early on in your relationship that Joel Miller was a lover, and a giver. He always needed to be close to you in some way.

“Mhm. I have, honey. But, I was hopin’ I could make you feel good first. I think the dishes can wait. Don’t you?” He nuzzled against you, thumbs slipping through the front pockets of your jeans.

“Joel..” you warned.

“Please, baby. I know the holiday season gets you all wound up. Let me help you relax, and then I will do the dishes and finish cleaning up here. Afterwards, you and I can settle in for a well deserved nap. How’s that sound?”

How did you get so lucky?

“You’re so good to me, baby. I suppose we can—” your words become lodged in your throat when his teeth graze your delicate skin. He nibbles playfully, knowing just how to get his girl going. His fingers toy with the button on your jeans before he pops it open.

“You’re my girl, ain’t ya? I live for makin’ you happy and feelin’ good. I love you very much, darlin.’ And I’ll be damned if this time of the year beats you down again.” He whispers while pulling down the zipper swiftly. His unoccupied hand slips under your sweater where he can feel your stomach clench inwards, the quickness of your breath while he splays his long, rugged fingers across your skin.

(If you ain’t dating a proper cowboy yet, then what the hell are you doin?’)

You allow yourself to indulge and melt into his grasp when his hand slips beneath the confines of your jeans, and below your panties. His broad fingers stroke gently between your folds, gathering up the slickness that has pooled there from this morning’s earlier interaction.

“Talkin’ of tinsel really gotcha goin,’ huh baby? Or was it the way that your handsome boyfriend was talkin’ to ya? Is that what got your pretty little pussy drippin?’” He purrs and your knees nearly buckle. Your Joel has never been shied away from dirty talk, and he knows how much you love it when filth drips from between his perfect lips.

You laugh, and it’s music to his ears whenever you let your guard down around him. Your head falls back ceremoniously against his shoulder, admiring his side profile through fluttered lashes. “It definitely wasn’t the damn tinsel, that’s for sure.”

“Thought so.” He mused with a rumbling deep chuckle. He’s acutely aware of your budding desperation taking the front and center stage when your hips buck upwards into his palm. “Someone’s a bit eager, hm? Want me to stretch this pretty pussy apart with my fingers, baby? S’that what my sweet girl wants?”

“Mhmm.” Is really all you’re able to get out because your mind is swirling, intoxicated with your boyfriend, and his goddamn hands that know how to play you to ruin. A flush rises to your cheeks, skin burning red hot like embers in a fire when his lips ghost the shell of your ear, sending a warm chill down every vertebrae in your spine.

“Can’t hear ya, honeybun. Gonna need ya to speak up for me.” His fingers dip down lower, teasing your tight wet hole that pulses around nothing, feeling empty and neglected thus far. His teeth bite down on your lobe, tugging it down playfully and elicit a desperate little mewl to slip past your lips.

“Fingers, daddy. Now. Please.” Your requests come out scrambled, misconstrued, but audible nonetheless. He seems pleased enough with your response and slowly sinks in two of his thick digits; ring and middle knuckle deep inside of your pulsing cunt. His hand encasing your entire mound while his thumb finds your clit with ease, curling his fingers inwards in a ‘come hither’ motion.

“Fuuck.” You moaned, wanton, depraved, love drunk on your Texas hunk.

His non-dominant hand that was presently resting along your stomach drops down. It takes him all of 5 seconds to tug your jeans down over your ass and thighs, exposing your bare skin to the room temperature air. His hand massages your supple flesh, curving against your spine before pulling back and returning with one firm smack to your left cheek that echoes through the expanse of the kitchen. “‘Atta girl.” He praises you lovingly, massaging the irritated skin before he delivers another smack, harder this time. It’s just enough to send you jolting forward into his hand, crying out his name.

The muscles in his bicep flex under the natural light flooding in through the kitchen windows. His fingers pump in and out, in and out. The mixed sounds of your pleasure, and your cunt squelching around his fingers sends blood flowing southwards to his hardening cock. You feel the press of him against your lower back when you reach around, fingers blindly searching till they find their home against the bulge in his jeans.

He grunts, lower lip taken harshly between his teeth, the speed of his wrist movements increase when you stroke him through the tight confines. You can feel all of him through the fabric, and you’re prideful that his desperately hard cock is just for you.

“Gonna fuck yourself against my fingers, baby? Gonna use me to get yourself off?” He questions hastily, breath shuddering when he finds himself grinding his hips in your hand with a need to satiate the building friction.

“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, mouth falling open in an ‘o’ shape when his fingers kiss that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. You’re so close, nearly at the edge when his fingers slip out, leaving you abandoned before his bending down and hoisting you over his shoulder like a rag doll.

His steps are calculated and precise carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He tosses you on the bed in a playful manner, lips finding yours in a chaste kiss while his hands tug your jeans down completely, followed by your panties. “Couldn’t wait any longer to be inside ya, baby” his words fall like whispers against your lips. You reach for his belt, undoing it with that sweet giggle that he loves so much.

He licks into your mouth like a man starved when you finally release him from his confines. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. His lips detach, a string of saliva connecting you to him before he plops down beside you on his back.

“We don’t even need to fuck, honey. Jus’ wanna be inside ya. Take a nap with my cock keepin’ you stuffed full.” He’s vulgar, greedy when he reaches for you. You melt like putty, sticky and sweet, and dripping.

“I love keeping your cock warm, daddy. Almost as much as I love it when you send me to a new dimension.” You murmur, settling against his chest. Your hand reaches down between your bodies, grasping his length and guiding it to your opening. A combined sweet sigh when he eases himself inside of you.

“So fuckin’ perfect for me. Warm, wet, huggin’ me s’tight.” He sounds drunk now too. His grin is lazily, placid when your eyes meet in a loving gaze. His hips shift beneath you, bottoming out, filling, stretching, while you pull him in.

His chin dips down, capturing your lips once more. It’s probably one of his favorite things to do, kissing you. Lips that he believes were made for him. A peck to your nose follows, teeth nibbling, giggles, sweet sounds.

“Joel?” You ask through the domestic calmness that shelters you both.

“Mhmm?” He rumbles, words rolling slowly against his tongue.

“I love you.”

His arms shift to wrap around you, holding you close. Heartbeats entwined. “I love you too, baby doll. And no matter what happens this Christmas, you’re perfect to me. No matter what your mother thinks, or says, you’re perfect.”

“Did you knit these ghastly things yourself?” Your mother criticizes the sweaters you knitted for yourself, Joel, Tommy, Ellie, and Sarah. It was your first big knitting project. A daunting task at first, but the old ladies at the senior center you volunteered at were both charming, and helpful.

“Yes, mother. I knitted them myself.” Her words hurt, but that’s what champagne spritzers are for. You take a hefty sip from your champagne flute.

“Well, the pattern is all wrong, dear.” She drops the sleeve of your sweater with a sigh. “Your home looks lovely, by the way, but your tree could use more tinsel. I noticed five bald spots when I first walked in.” She has no idea how many hours you spent decorating the tree in the living room, the mantles, outside in the front yard. You worked tirelessly with your family, and she still had the audacity to say something negative about it.

You fake a smile, catching a glance from your Texas hunk who is preoccupied in the kitchen with making sure that dinner is absolutely perfect.

“Thank you for the compliment, mother. Can I get you more champagne?” You ask, hoping that you can just take a breather finally.

“Oh, thank you dear, that would be lovely. Where’s that boyfriend of yours, Joe?” She waved her wrist carelessly, bracelets chiming in your ears. Even after four years, your mother still didn’t call your boyfriend by his real name.

“His name is Joel, mother. And he’s in the kitchen with his brother who is helping him with dinner.” You respond flatly.

“Joe. Joel, what’s the difference?” She doesn’t get it. She never does, and never will.

“Mother, it’s rude. He’s my boyfriend of almost five years, and you can’t even bother to remember his name?” You’re on the edge of snapping. It's not fair that your mother thinks that just because her husband divorced her that she gets to make everyone close to her miserable too.

“He’s still your boyfriend? Well, by now I surely would think that you’d be engaged and married. Who in their right mind plays house with a man for almost five years? Dear, have I taught you nothing?”

Tears prick the corner of your eyes from the blow of her words. You and Joel never felt like you needed to get married. It was just a piece of paper, shared finances, social status that neither of you cared for. You loved each other, you loved Sarah and Ellie, and viewed Tommy like a brother. Wasn’t that enough?

“Excuse me, mother, while I go top off your glass.”

She doesn’t see the glassy look in your eyes when you snatch the flute from her. Your footsteps carry you directly to the kitchen. For a brief moment you think about tossing the glass into the sink and letting the crystal shatter, but you opt to set it down on the counter.

Joel and Tommy are watching you closely from a distance. You’re visibly upset, and no fake smile can hide that.

I just need a breather.

The air is chilly, and the sky is clear with twinkling stars. Your tears glisten under the Christmas lights hanging above the front step when you hear the front door open and close. You move quickly to douse out the lit cigarette that is pursed between your painted lips, feeling a twinge of shame from a habit you couldn’t quite break.

“You don’t gotta hide that on my account, sweetheart.” Tommy said softly with his hands shoved in his jean pockets.

“I just..needed something to take the edge off.” You know that there’s no reason to explain yourself to him, or anyone for that matter. Tommy’s been your best friend for years, and he was the one that introduced you to Joel in the first place.

“I get it. Family can be real assholes sometimes, huh? It’s like that one scene in National Lampoon’s where the wife says, “it’s Christmas and we’re all in misery.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, and the misery is my mother.” You scoff and offer him your cigarette.

“Ah. What did she have to say this time around?” He asks while taking the cigarette between your fingers and bringing it against his lips.

“What didn’t she have to say?” You stifled a bitter laugh. “Five bald spots on the tree. The sweaters I knitted are ghastly, and she refuses to call Joel by his real name. Oh, and the cherry on top? She thinks I’m naive for ‘playing house with a man who isn’t even my husband.’”

“Bald spots? Where? The sweaters you made us are adorable, and what a bitch. I swear, that woman grows more callous every year. Who cares if you and Joel aren’t married? What’s it any of her business to do in your private life? You’re happy, aren’t you? She’s jus’ bein’ bitter cus’ you got a man that loves you unconditionally, and her husband left her.” Tommy finishes off what is left of the cigarette before he douses it out with the toe of his boot.

More tears begin to freely fall when you begin to fold in on yourself. “I love that man so fucking much, Tommy. He makes me so unbelievably happy and I just wish she could support me. To be my mother for once in her goddamn life and not this jealous..entity.” You sniffled.

“Oh, honey, it’s Christmas time and tears are not allowed!” Tommy attempted to joke, but when he saw just how upset you were, he switched gears and wrapped you up in his arms. “She’ll never understand, unfortunately. But that’s her loss. She could be real happy for you, and Joel, if she wanted to. But jealous people miss out on those happy moments I’m afraid. She refuses to be happy, and that ain’t have anythin’ to do with you, sweet pea.” He reassured you.

What Tommy really wanted to tell you, but couldn’t say, was that soon enough he’d be your brother in law, and your Texas hunk was going to ask you to marry him, to be his wife, at the stroke of midnight tonight when all the guests would retire home.

“You’re right, Tommy. You’re absolutely right. She’s choosing to be unhappy for me. That’s her choice, not mine. And you know what? Fuck her. She doesn’t get to hold this over me. I’m happy, and I refuse to let her ruin that for me.” You hug him back tightly.

“‘Atta girl. Now, let’s get back inside before my brother starts worryin’ more than he already has. I’ll entertain your mother so that you can have a break. How’s that sound?”

“Really? You’ll do that for me? Thank you, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. I’ll get her all liquored up.” He jokes with a playful wink.

Your lips peck his cheek in a non-romantic gesture. Tommy has always been your rock.

Dinner surprisingly runs smoothly, and you no longer have to deal with your mother because Tommy is talking up a storm with her, and she actually..smiles? Maybe it was just the champs.

Your Texas hunk is seated beside you with his hand resting along your thigh underneath the table. His thumb is rubbing reassuring circles against the silky fabric of your tights. He checks in with you between bites, silent glances, softened eyes. God, you loved this man.

Ellie, Sarah, and Joel helped you with the dishes while Tommy drove your cousin home. He had a crush on her for years, and finally grew a pair to make it known. Your mom, thankfully, went home with your aunts.

It was nearing midnight when Joel returned from upstairs after saying goodnight to the girls and wishing them sweet dreams. He found you curled up in the loveseat next to the fireplace, deep in thought with a half drunk glass of wine resting alongside the table. The rim of the glass was coated in a residue of your lipstick that had long since rubbed off.

“Is there room for me there?” He gestured to the loveseat with a small grin.

Your eyes met his in a soft gaze, and a subtle nod. And when you start to rise from the cushion, he stops you and instead lifts your thighs up gently before scooting in behind you so you’re draped across his lap comfortably.

“Are the girls asleep?” You ask as his hand rests around your hip.

“Mhm. Jus’ you and me, baby.” He replies with a swipe of his lips against your forehead. “Is everythin’ okay? You looked upset earlier..”

“Oh.” You sigh. “Yeah, everything is okay, Joel. It's just the holidays, and my mother, but I’m okay.” You reassure him while your hand drifts up towards the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair with your nails gently scratching his scalp.

“Yeah, I reckon she had some shit to say? I’m sorry, baby doll. But remember what I said earlier? You’re perfect to me no matter what your mother thinks or says.” He murmured. His hand that wasn’t resting along your hip reaches up, his thumb brushes across your chin, eyes boring into yours with sincerity and pure love.

“I just..I hate her sometimes, and I know I shouldn’t because she’s my mother, but she’s a bitter woman, and I don’t want her in my life anymore, Joel. Not when she’s like this.” You nearly croak, and his face falls. His lips curved downwards into a deep set frown. He senses your tears before they even begin to fall.

“Hey, just because she’s your mother, doesn’t mean that she has a right to be in your life, baby. It’s your life, and you get to decide who you want to be a part of it.” He can feel the weight of the small box growing heavy in his pocket. “Darlin’, I love you, and I just want my girl to be happy.” He confessed.

“You’re right. It's my life and I get to make those choices, not her. I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to—”

He shushes you softly. His thumb gently presses down against your lower lip before he steals a quick kiss to reassure you, and himself. “Hey, you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for. You’re perfect. You’re amazing. Could give less of a fuck what your bitter mother has to say about it. I love you for you, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.”

He pauses, swallowing the lump that is growing in his throat. He releases your hip gently before reaching into his pocket. “I know I shoulda asked you this question a long time ago, but I had to be sure that..it was perfect. All my life I’ve found myself bein’ a hopeless romantic. Always giving, never receivin’ the same kinda love I put out there. Never thought that one person could make a man’s heart feel so full, so complete till I met you. Now, you know I ain’t one for cliches, but I love you with everything my heart has to offer, and I want nothin’ more than to spend the rest of my life with you, my beautiful, sweet, unconditionally lovin’, girl.”

“Joel..are you—oh my god.” You’re in disbelief, heart thumping rapidly out of your chest when he pulls out a small, forest green velvet encased box.

“I ain’t finished yet, darlin.’” He tuts playfully. “So, will you do me the honors of becoming my wife? And as your husband, I promise to never stop lovin’ you, t’never stop supportin’ you, no matter what life throws our way?” His eyes are glassy with freshly brewed tears. He doesn’t even have the chance to open the box and reveal the ring to you before you’re throwing your arms around his neck, nearly knocking the wind from his lungs from how tightly you’re hugging him.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you! Oh my god, a million times, yes!” You’re so happy you can barely contain it.

“Dontcha wanna see the ring?” He laughed warmly, wrapping his arms around you. “Ellie and Sarah helped me pick it out.”

“Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee and all that?” You ask teasingly while you pull back from the hug and hold out your left hand.

“Oh, shit! You’re right! I’m doin’ this all wrong.” He chuckled with a shake of his head.

“No, fuck the tradition. Let’s do it our way.” You suggest and he smiles brightly, dimples peeking through. You open the box together revealing the dainty ring that had you written all over the design. An oval shaped diamond in the center, a shiny gold band, and two smaller diamonds on either side.

“It’s beautiful, Joel. You and the girls have impeccable taste.” Your heart swells when his lips press to your ring finger before he carefully slips the ring into place.

“It’s beautiful, but it doesn’t compare to the woman who’s wearing it.” He comments thoughtfully while your hands come to rest along his cheeks. His face is held tenderly while I love you’s are whispered only for yours and his ears. It’s not long before you're chasing one another’s lips. He kisses you with the same amount of passion every single time.

“Keep the sweater on, baby.” You request between kisses while his hands make quick work of tearing your thin tights open for easy access.

“I’ll buy ya a million pairs. Jus’ wanna make love to my future wife fireside without any obstructions.” His hands rest upon either side of your hips when you straddle his lap.

“And I want my future husband to sit back and watch his future wife ride his cock.” You finalize your words with a searing kiss while your fingers work open the button on his jeans. You push the material down just enough that you can pull his cock free.

“M’so fuckin’ lucky. God, I am so lucky. All my life I’ve been waitin’ for someone like you, baby.” He grunts lovingly, unconditionally when you finally sink down around him. “I can’t fuckin’ wait to grow old with you.”

Your hips roll slowly against his while he pulls you in with gentle hands. There’s no teeth clashing, or skin slapping. It’s just good ole fashioned love making by the fire. Just you and your Texas hunk.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Miller. You’re the only man in this world that deserves my heart.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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[alloftheimagines]

joel miller drabble | bubble bath

words: 270 warnings: fluff, utter brain rot

I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like for reader and joel to take their first bath together. after months of trekking through all weathers, fighting like hell to stay alive, you reach jackson and there, in your new borrowed house, is a tiny bathtub. of course, joel would never be so brave as to ask if he could join you, but you are, you do, so you sink into the hot water together and it feels like a dream. he can’t remember the last time he felt so safe. you'd talked about baths before, how much you miss them, whereas he couldn't care less. he washed to get the job done, not sit and marinate for hours on end.

but it's perfect now. now, he understands.

you rest against him, your back against his chest, his legs bracketing yours like he's still, somehow, trying to guard you. he's mesmerised by the bubbles shimmering and melting on your scarred skin. he's afraid this must be another dream, one that will be taken from him like every good thing he’s ever known, and yet it isn’t. time stands still here in this tiny bathroom. your fingertips feather over his bruised knuckles as you hum contentedly. he spends the whole time struggling with his guilt, like maybe he should be doing something somewhere: fighting like he always has. so he distracts himself by lathering soap over your body and massaging shampoo into your hair, because nobody, not even his own damn conscience, will take this from him. funny how you still smell like you, even after. thank god you do. 

his arms grow tighter around your stomach and slowly your lids grow heavy, your breathing steadier than it’s been in months. you murmur about how good this feels, and he kisses the nape of your neck in response, because there are no words he can say to really do this moment justice. but you feel it. fuck, do you feel it.  

[asoftsighh]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ joel miller x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

joel handcrafts you a gift

1.3k words

You’d like to pride yourself with the fact that you know Joel Miller pretty well. You’d hope, after years of fighting and bleeding side by side. 

So you immediately notice his change in mood, how he’s quieter than usual. Where dry jokes would’ve been made, or compliments whispered, he’s silent. You don’t say anything though; Joel is like a stray dog, in this sense. One who’s been hurt, over and over, and it’s best when they come to you first. So you don’t say anything. Don’t push him, waiting and hoping that he’ll come to you if there’s something seriously wrong. 

It’s early afternoon now, a cold and rainy day. One of those days where you don’t feel like leaving the house, staying wrapped up in a blanket and in the arms of the man you love. That’s where you were right now, actually; the dimmed lights of your living room casting an orange hue to the room.

Joel’s heartbeat is slow and steady beneath your ear, where you’re half dozing on his chest. It had started with reading your separate books (yours a fantasy, his about space,) until his hand started rubbing your calf in the way you like. And now, here you are, half asleep and completely in love. 

“You tired?” He murmurs, his breath against your ear. His fingers rest on top of your head; not necessarily petting, but rather holding. Like he wants to keep you all to himself. 

You shake your head against his chest, listening to the fire crack across the room. You run your hand up his arm to his bicep, feeling the muscle flex beneath your touch involuntarily. 

His laugh is warm and low, and rustles the little hairs across your forehead. He pushes them back with a warm palm. “Are you lyin’ to me, baby?” 

You smile against his flannel before you can help yourself. You stretch out, legs straightening where they lay atop his. “No.”

He doesn’t believe you, this you know. You bet that he can feel your muscles relaxing, your body sinking into his and the couch at the same time. His hand slides down the slope of your back, squeezing your hip. “I have something to show you.”

You perk up slightly. Joel has never been the biggest gift giver, something you never really minded. Occasionally, he’d come back from patrol with a book that had survived or wildflowers that he picked. Whenever you asked why, he’d simply say “was thinking of you” and kiss your cheek. 

Now, you put it together, this might be the reason for his quietness. Who knew that this man, who has seen and experienced true horrors in the past couple of decades, could get this shy?

“What is it?” Your voice is groggy from your dozing as you pick your head up to look at him. There’s a softness in his eyes, the one that he saves for you, like the rest of the world doesn’t deserve to see him this open. His hand slides down from your head to your cheek, his thumb brushing against the highest part of your cheekbone, giving it a loving pinch. 

He hesitates now, eyes flickering between you and the stairs that lead upstairs. He shifts under you, giving your butt a squeeze through your jeans, ushering you up. When you move off him, he’s off and up the stairs before you can say anything. Less than a minute later, he’s back, holding something behind him. 

You smile, somewhat flustered and confused. “What are you hiding, Miller?”

His grin is even more flustered. If you look closely, beneath the scruff, you’d be able to see more hints of his rosy face. He stands in front of the couch now, shifting from foot to foot. You’ve seen him blood and bruised, enraged and dejected. But this, the shyness, is more vulnerable than any other emotion you’ve seen him express. 

“Was gonna wait, but I ain’t good at that.” He takes a seat on the coffee table, which groans under his weight, his knees knocking yours. 

You hold your hand out, less demanding and more impatient. “What is it?”

What he places in your hand is not at all what you expect. It’s a jewelry box, one that opens to show a small compartment. The inside is even squared off into sections, like he knows that you keep your earrings and necklaces separate. The outside is a dark, polished wood. Right before you’re about to look up, you notice something engraved on the top. Your initials. 

“Joel,” you breathe out through a sigh. Meeting his eyes, he looks like he’s bracing himself for the worst. As if you would hate his gift. “Did you make this?”

He shrugs but the tips of his ears are red. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, a little uneven in places like it’s been carved and sanded by hand. His hands. The same hands that hold you every night, that make you breakfast and pinch your cheeks. And now they’ve made something for you. 

“The top corner is chipped,” He says suddenly, running his hand over his too-long beard. “And the polish is too dark on the bottom. It was-”

You cut him off when you reach over to hold both of his hands in yours, the jewelry box on the couch cushion beside you. “Can’t believe you,” you say against his knuckles, pressing kisses to the tops of his hands. “It’s perfect, Joel. Thank you.”

He huffs out a laugh, just a gust of air. “I’m glad you like it.” He’s quiet for a few moments, watching you with that same look he always has when it’s just you two. “I've never been.. good at talkin. Figure I do something else for you.” 

“It’s perfect,” you repeat, tugging at his hands until he sits on your other side. You curl into him like you are magnets, coming together with a pull neither of you could resist. Not that you would ever want to. Your legs drape over his thighs, his arm coming around your shoulders to pull you against him. You both sit like that for a few soft moments, listening to the light drizzle outside and the crackling of the fire. 

“Was scared you weren’t gonna like it,” he murmurs. His lips brush against your temple in an almost kiss. “That you’d think it was dumb.”

You tilt your head to look at him. From this close, you can see the light gray hairs spattering his temples, his beard. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling. 

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you say, your voice thick with adoration for this grumpy but kind man that you somehow ended up with. “I love you.”

Joel’s eyes flicker over your face; your eyes, your mouth, your eyes again. He looks like he's searching your face for something, a lie maybe; not that he’ll ever find one. He deserves to be loved like this, to be appreciated. 

He swallows, jaw twitching like there’s a dozen things that he wants to say. He threads your fingers together on top of his lap, his thumb slowly brushing over your knuckles, like he’s trying to memorize you. “I love you,” he finally whispers back, his voice low but earnest. 

You’re both quiet for the next couple minutes, soaking up everything around. His arm around you, his hand in yours, his breath by your ear. Joel shifts eventually, kissing the crown of your head because he can. 

“You hungry?” he mumbles. “Can make you somethin.”

You smile into his shoulder, his soft flannel tickling your cheek. “Only if  you make those weird egg things.”

“They ain’t weird. Anway, you seem to like them just fine.”

You kiss his scruffy jaw. “I like you just fine,” you tease, in the way you know drives him crazy.

He huffs, flustered; but he’s smiling. And that’s enough. That’s all you need. 

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[alexsoenomel]

Random Joel Miller Headcanons:

Joel was an early bird, always had been, so naturally he would wake up before you to make breakfast and coffee.

He liked taking care of you. He was a man of a few words; didn't say much, but his actions spoke louder than words.

He liked when you would play with his hair whenever he couldn't sleep and you liked the way his soft gray locks felt between your fingers.

He was not the one to tell you what to do, but he would sometimes get very protective, like a guard dog, to the point where he would forget you were in fact an adult. He would try to control you, tell you what you can and can't do, but it never worked with you. It would always end with you telling him to fuck off.

Joel loved teaching you how to play guitar. He loved watching you as you would get lost and bit your lower lip as you tried to play a simple note. He thought you were cute whenever you would get frustrated.

Bickering, lots and lots of bickering. He was twice your age and you enjoyed reminding him of that.

"Not bad for a man in his 70s," you told him once, panting and covered in sweat after multiple orgasms he gave you.

"I'm 56, dumbass," he told you, trying to catch his breath.

"Perv," you teased.

"Oh, fuck off."

He would wake up in the morning because of you, he would try to live and not just survive because of you. Everything he would now do, he would do it because of you.

You loved to snuggle with him, especially during winter, because that man was a walking, taking heather.

Music. He loved sharing his favorite songs with you. You loved how excited he would get, when you actually knew the song.

Showering together; the purest form of intimacy. You loved washing his hair and he loved washing yours. He loved feeling your body under his rough fingertips.

Night drives. You loved watching him drive and the silence of the night, so every once in a while you would go on a drive in the middle of the night, listening to music, eating junk food under the stars, or you would pull over to the side of the road and fuck. Handprints all over foggy windows were a regular occurrence.

Animalistic sex. He loved making you scream in pleasure to the point where you couldn't take it anymore. He loved making you his in every position, location and at any given time. Biting, sucking, scratching -- he loved everything. Age was just a number in his ID; that man fucked like he was in his 20s.

He loved hearing you whimper and fall apart under him. He loved the way you would forget everything but the sound of his name whenever he would fuck you.

Slow sensual sex. Even though he loved fucking you senseless he also loved making love to you. He loved worshipping every inch of your body, taking his sweet time, teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore. He loved the way you would look at him. He was aware how much he was loved by you, but still thought he didn't deserve it.

Kissing. That man loved to kiss. Your neck was his favorite spot. You loved to bite his lower lip, just to tease him, since he would always get hard from it. He loved the way you would play with his lip between your teeth.

"Stop biting me, we are in public."

"Make me."

The first time he told you he loved you was in the bedroom. His guard was down, he was pounding in and out of you slowly as you were digging your nails into his shoulder blades. He still had no idea why he said it, but there was something about you that day. You were completely lost in him, telling him how good he was, how handsome he looked and how he made you feel so so good. He couldn't help himself. He whispered a soft I love you into your ear before you came, moaning his name over and over. "I love you too, handsome," you told him before kissing him. He would never forget it.

Enjoy me being delulu y 'all. Still struggling to write and feeling like shit. Hopefully it will pass soon, it's quite annoying.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 5

Paring: Joel x F!Reader (NO Y/N)

Warnings: pre!outbreak and post!outbreak, AU (there will be some characters, Joel's backstory is different), no Sarah, no Ellie (maybe!), a lot of flashback (at least in the first chapters!), age gap (reader is approx. 10 yrs younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, SMUT, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m and f), fingering, masturbation (m and f), language, attempted SA, trauma, death and violence, abortion.

Rating: M

Masterlist

W.C. 3.8k

Summary: You work in the Millers' company, you are their friend, you have a job you love, your coworkers esteem and love you. Your life is perfect. Suddenly, one day, you wake up in the hospital, you are alone surrounded by silence and strange noises, your door is barricaded, but what happened? And what happened to the world out there?

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Thanks @saradika for the divider and the banner. Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

FEBRUARY 2014

After that breakdown you had, you forced yourself not to want to remember anymore. You don't want to remember because you're afraid of discovering and bringing back other bad and painful memories.

You focus on the present, a disturbing present, a terrible, distressing present, full of dangers, in which even a cough can put you in danger. But by now, imitating Joel, you can manage to move quite well silently through the various streets.

New York is far away. You are on the Soos Creek Trail in Kent, you are on a road surrounded by woods. You've passed a couple of gas stations so far where you've collected everything you could, canned food, medicine, Joel had offered to go first, but you wanted to go in with him. He didn't insist, he just gave you a long look to which you responded with a simple, I'm fine. The glass there was broken and the alarm was still ringing, Joel said it was strange that those creatures were not there as they are attracted to noises. Luckily you didn't spend much time there, that place made you very uneasy.

Now you are on the road, the road is sunny and every now and then you take tiny sips of water, you take little breaks, you look everywhere except at Joel, you know he's looking at you, you sense his worried look. If you weren't in constant danger, he'd probably always ask if you were okay or if he could do something for you, but you just want to be left alone. You don't think you're asking for much.

When it's almost dark, you arrive at a house in the middle of the woods. Joel enters first this time, you see him enter cautiously with a stealthy step and a tense look, he has a knife in his hands. You watch him anxiously, you are afraid for him. You are afraid of being alone. You don't want anything bad to happen to him. Shortly after, even though it seems like an eternity to you, he opens the door completely, “Come on, it's clear.” He says, letting you in and closing the door behind you.

The house is huge, on two levels. You look around, just in time to see Joel close a door behind you, you frown suspiciously “What is it?” you ask him.

“I’d rather you didn’t see,” he just tells you, but you walk past him and open the door. You immediately put a hand over your mouth, the stench hits you violently and you immediately feel like vomiting, there are two decomposing corpses, they are a man and a woman, he has a gunshot wound to the temple, while she has her stomach slashed and a gunshot wound to the forehead.

Joel holds you until the vomit stops shaking you, then helps you clean yourself up as best you can and you go into another room, your head is spinning, Joel offers you his water, but you refuse. “Drink.” He insists.

“No, that’s yours,” you reply, breathing heavily and holding back bile.

“Come on,” he insists, bringing his bottle closer. You look at him. “Go ahead,” he adds, then rummages through the deceased couple's drawers. “I'll take a look around, you take it easy.” he adds again, you nod with your head down. You follow him furtively, then look towards the closed door where the two are, you can't help but sigh and feel sad. You look thoughtfully at the bottle he left you, you think about Joel and how much he cares about you, you find yourself wondering if he cared so much about you even before your accident or if it was just because of your crying a few hours earlier.

It's now sunset, you look outside without looking out from the balconies or the various windows, you remain hidden behind the curtains, the countryside has become completely yellow and with orange hues. You hear Joel behind you, you turn towards him and see him leaning against the door jamb intent on observing you with a thoughtful expression, you look at him perplexed “What?”

“How d’ you feel?” he asks you. “Seriously, and don’t answer me with that hasty tone as if to dismiss me and keep me away from you.” he adds, crossing his arms.

“I was wondering if you cared about me this much before.” You continue, continuing to watch how the orange colors and the warmth of the day are giving way to darkness and even cold “Have you always acted like this? Or is it an attitude you have because of my accident?”

He sighs, “We’re friends. I’ve always cared about you,” he replies.

You shake your head, “I don't know if I want to remember, when I try I'm afraid I'll only remember bad things. I'm afraid I won't remember anything good from my past. I might as well have died in that accident...” you say, leaving the sentence hanging. You're tired. You feel like an empty shell. You're not like that, you feel like you weren't like that, but what if you had become like that?

You feel his hands on your waist and turn you towards him, your eyes locked. “Don’t ever think that again. Never again.” he says, emphasizing each single word with a harshness and almost an anger that makes you lower your gaze, making you feel guilty for those words of yours, “I won't let you give in, do you understand?” You look at him. “Do you understand?” He insists. You nod weakly. “I'll help you,” he says, gently stroking the side of your face and you instinctively close your eyes and stay with your eyes closed “Remembering is scary sometimes,” he adds and you open your eyes “but not knowing who you are, is worse.”

“Has anything ever happened between us? Or are you being nice because of our previous friendship?”

MAY 2012

Ever since you found out that there really was something between Joel and Charlotte, you have avoided all contact with Joel. He himself had confessed it to you, but it's one thing to hear these words and another to see it so clearly. It hurts to think of him in her arms, holding Charlotte, to imagine him doing certain things, but most of all, Charlotte's words and what she told you resonate in your head, you would never have imagined that he could do something like that, he seemed so different.

As the weeks went by, you started hanging out a lot with both Kyle and Arnold who turned out to be two very nice colleagues, full of life and always ready to do various activities from the calmest ones to the most reckless ones. Once, they took you to an archery competition and you unexpectedly beat them and they laughingly carried you on their shoulders and said that you had classic beginner's luck. Another time, you went into the middle of nature to do a little camping, that was really a dangerous experience because the sign said that there was the possibility of encountering bears; the meeting didn't take place, but you were anxious both days you were there.

When you returned to work, you met both Tommy and Joel outside the building. They were about to go in too, but the sight of you stopped them. Tommy greeted all three of you with great warmth and enthusiasm, Joel opened his mouth and took a half step towards you as if he wanted to say or do who knows what, but your hard look and your straight pull inwards made him desist.

That day you couldn't do much, your head was elsewhere, your head was on the higher floors. Charlotte did nothing but walk past you repeatedly, looking gloating, and you wanted to strangle her. Katherine asks you if everything is okay, you answer with a hasty yes, but from her face you understand that she doesn't believe your answer; however, she didn't insist and you appreciated that a lot. It's eight o'clock, everyone's long gone, except you probably. Your mind still stuck there, in Joel's office, with Charlotte's words buzzing in your head.

You remember the night a few months ago, even though you were tipsy, you remember his words very well, those three words, you didn't imagine them. You can't have dreamed it all.

It couldn't have been just the product of alcohol and your imagination. You heard them.

You get up from your desk, turning off the light, and walk to the elevator. You enter the cabin, but you don't push the button to go to the ground floor, but rather you press the one to go up.

Maybe Joel isn't even there, maybe he's with Charlotte. The thought makes your stomach cramp, but you want to stop feeling bad.

When you get there, Joel is right in front of the elevator. He was probably about to leave and is very surprised to find you there at that hour and especially there with him.

“Do you got a minute?” you ask, taking a half step out of the elevator.

“Sure.” he replies. “Let's go to my office.” he says, starting to go to him, but you remain there, still, crossing your arms.

"Joel, you don't owe me any explanations." You start without being able to look him in the face because you and him are not engaged, you are just friends, there was nothing except a kiss that evening at your house and you're old enough to understand that a kiss doesn't imply any relationship; however, you need to talk to him and be clear once and for all “You are a grown man and you can choose who you hang out with. I am and will remain your friend no matter what.” you continue crossing your arms in a nervous gesture “I jus’ want to be clear though, I don't like finding myself in ambiguous situations or being defined in unpleasant ways. So, I want to make sure we're clear about this. You want to... date other people... okay, no problem, but please don't be ambiguous with me at this point. Just be a friend.” you add this time looking up at him, he is perplexed, his dark eyes fixed on you, his brows furrowed “I don't want to find myself in strange situations.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He starts with a raised eyebrow, and you shake your head and roll your eyes. “It’s the truth, honey.”

You take a long sigh, “One more thing, please, don’t call me that anymore. Or sweetie, or baby girl, or little one. You confuse me!” you blurt out and start gesticulating, which you don't usually do, but you've been so tense all day that you're starting to explode. “Are we friends? Treat me like a friend.”

“Can I know what's going on?” he asks you, trying to calm you down by placing his hands on your shoulders, but you escape his grasp by moving on. “Please, can you help me understan’ so I can understand something too?” he asks you.

You turn your back on him, “The truth is, I got it all wrong. Maybe I misunderstood everything and now...”

Joel murmurs your name, placing his hands on your shoulders, “If you're talking about Charlotte, our physical relationship is long over, please tell me what's wrong.”

“Everything.” replies “Joel...”

“Hey, you're shaking, what's going on?” he asks, making you turn towards him, your eyes downcast. He places a finger under your chin so that your face lifts and your eyes meet. “You can talk to me, you always can. I’m here for you.”

“That's the point. Are we friends?” he nods “Just friends?” you ask him again looking into his eyes, his eyes seem to darken suddenly and the expression on his face becomes serious, you just watch his eyes and how his features go from relaxed to tense.

"Yes." But his tone is less serious and less confident than the expression on his face.

You swallow, "Okay." You can only reply, feeling a burning disappointment burning through your soul; so, those three words that you remembered, that sensual embrace of yours, that kiss had been something dictated only by the moment.

There is nothing between you.

Nothing.

You're just friends.

You leave the offices in total silence, in total disappointment, you just want to scream and cry, maybe buy some ice cream and drown on the sofa with this tub, it could be the solution. You have your spoon sunk into a tub of half-melted ice cream, tears ready to roll down your cheeks again, watery eyes, you feel the heat in your cheeks, you've been sniffling for almost ten minutes, when the doorbell saves you from this state of deep disappointment and bitterness. You put the bowl of ice cream on the coffee table and go to open the door, it's Tommy.

“Hey,” he says with a great smile, but seeing the state you’re in, his smile quickly disappears.

“Hey.” You say, barely meeting his gaze, then open the door wider to let him in.

“Can I come in?” he asks you worriedly.

You nod, he takes a few steps inside as you close the door, leaning against it wearily.

“I would ask you how it's going, but your face says it all,” he adds.

You shrug, “I'm fine.” You lie, “I'm just really tired.” You lie again.

“Are you tired with that face and a kilo of half-melted ice cream?” he raises his hands. “Okay, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine, but spare me the line.” he continues.

You huff, looking down, “What did he do this time?” he asks you again.

He knows, but you don't want to talk about it. “Why are you here?” you ask him.

“It’s our night, pizza and a movie,” he replies, looking at you sideways.

“Oh, yes. Right… um… I’m sorry, I didn’t…” you babble not knowing what to say.

“Don't worry,” he says, coming closer to you and hugging you tightly. Oh, his arms and hugs are just like his brother Joel's... a tear escapes you, wetting his t-shirt, then another, finally you find yourself clutching his shirt in your fists and collapsing into Tommy's arms.

FEBRUARY 2014

Moonlight filters through the thin curtains of the bedroom window, you stare at some indefinite point beyond the curtains at the sky. You are thinking about what Joel told you.

“We are friends,” he told you. That answer left a bitter taste in your mouth, almost making you sad, as if his answer had evoked something sad in you. You're sitting in the middle of the bed, Joel is still downstairs on the couch after making a bit of a fuss.

You get up and go to the window, outside you can only hear the occasional chirping of crickets; suddenly you hear a noise downstairs and your first thought is to go downstairs too.

Joel will probably have trouble sleeping too, who knows.

But the noises you hear aren't the ones Joel usually makes, and that makes you suspicious.

You go down the stairs and find the front door open, instinctively you go down the stairs more slowly looking left and right, there is no one in the entrance, when you enter the living room where Joel was sleeping, you see a man lying on the floor surrounded by a huge dark puddle that you can easily recognize as blood. Horrified, you take a few steps back, when someone hits you from behind, knocking you forward and face down, "You bitch, now you and your friend will pay for this," the man hisses, towering over you and making you roll onto your back towards him, the man violently places his hands around your neck, encircling it and squeezing it.

You feel suffocated, you try to push him away, but he's too strong. Your eyes widen in terror, you gasp for air, when suddenly the man lets go of you: someone hit him in the temple with something heavy. You gasp, rolling onto your side and see that the figure who attacked your attacker is Joel. You see him towering over your attacker and repeatedly hitting his head, you don't even know what he's hitting him with, you're coughing and meanwhile you hear the man gasping and then silence, followed only by Joel's labored breathing as he stands over the now dead man.

“J – Joel...” you call him, he turns around and in the darkness you see the distorted expression on his face, part of it stained with blood spatters and the weapon which appears to be a knife still in mid-air dripping blood, teeth gritted, eyes wide open. He's such a different person from the reassuring one who, albeit with a slightly gruff tone, had invited you to take the bed and then greeted you with a goodnight, darling.

You sit up massaging your neck, “Are you okay?” he asks you slowly changing the expression on his face reaching you and caressing you with his other hand, you almost hesitate at that contact, you swallow “Can you breathe?” you nod still shocked.

“How are you?” you ask, looking into his eyes, his expression still hard, “Are you hurt?” you ask, placing a hand on his clean cheek.

You are both almost surprised by your sweet reaction, he looks at your face for a moment then replies “No, I'm fine.”

You and Joel walk away from the scene of violence and into the kitchen, but with the sole intention of seeing if Joel is actually okay and then leaving. You don't want to stay there another minute.

The man almost immediately withdrew his gaze to clean his blood-stained face as best he could. Perhaps he didn't want to upset you and you appreciated that. But when he finishes, you reach out to him, to his hands, and then he turns to you, “Can you show me if you're hurt?”

"I'm fine." he dismisses you, but in response you turn on the flashlight, pointing it first at his still partly dirty face, then at his hands and finally you notice a clear tear in his shirt, it looks like the work of a knife, “May I?” you ask him looking towards his left side, he looks down for a moment then looks up and nods with a sigh. You lift his shirt and there is indeed a scratch, but luckily it's very superficial.

“I’ll disinfect it for you, okay?” you tell him. “I think I know how to do it, I mean, it should be something I know how to do.” you add.

“It’s not serious, leave it alone.” he tries to dismiss you.

“What do you mean, leave it alone? Lift it up,” you insist.

With a slight huff he lets himself fall into a chair.

“Did you know them?” you ask him.

“Unfortunately, yes, when you passed out in that underpass, some men welcomed us, but then others arrived who killed those who had given us hospitality and hunted us down.” Joel winces as you run the disinfectant over the wound. “Luckily it was just those two.” He adds as you gently dab the wound.

“You should have told me,” you scold him calmly.

“Why? You couldn’t have done anything,” he replies, watching how you take care of him.

“I know, but maybe I wouldn't have left you alone to face them.” You look up from the scratch on his face. “Please, from now on, don't lie to me to protect me, don't hide from me any dangers we might face together. Okay?”

“I just wanted to protect you.” he tries to justify his behavior.

You sigh, “I know, and I appreciate that. But I'm not a child you need to take care of. You protected me tonight, but things could have gone badly and we could have been dead by now. So from now on I want to be able to do my part too.” He sighs heavily “Swear to me.” You urge, looking him in the eyes.

“I swear, okay.” He gives up.

JULY 2012

You and Kyle have been dating for almost a month now, so Charlotte can keep Joel and he can do whatever he wants, just away from you. You're just friends, he told you.

Since that night, in fact, you have done everything to forget what had happened between you at your house, his words, your mutual confessions, your kisses. Everything.

And for your sanity, you avoid thinking about it so you avoid feeling bad and wrong if you look at him or talk to him even just for work reasons.

Tommy, for his part, is deeply sorry that you will no longer be his sister-in-law, he would have liked that. The relationship between you and Tommy hasn't changed one bit: he comes to call you in the morning with coffee, you still organize pizza and movie nights, but without Joel. Sometimes he used to join in, now both you and his brother do everything you can to do it without his knowledge.

You feel guilty for shutting him out like this, but it still hurts a lot.

The Fourth of July is a holiday that you spend at the Millers' in Texas in their little house on the beach where every year they organize a barbecue, a bonfire on the beach waiting for the fireworks and then watching them from the beach itself.

This year is no exception, only this time you're not alone with the Millers and their — later they also became your — friends, you've brought Kyle in addition to the usual beers.

Tommy smiled furtively, giving you the look of someone who understood the real reason for the man's presence, as Joel's jaw tightened and his hazel eyes darkened and his expression went from relaxed to tense.

You greet, hug and kiss everyone a bit. Kyle follows you feeling a bit uncomfortable, but slowly he settles in and start participating in discussions now related to a work aspect now to various hobbies now to the fireworks that you will see later.

You're in the middle of the barbecue, when you make a gesture that changes everything: you sit next to Kyle like you've been doing for the past month, but this time you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and then shyly kiss him. Kyle places a hand on the back of your neck, holding you close to him, and although it's a sweet, gentle kiss, you don't relax or feel the spark you were hoping to feel, just a cramp in your stomach. You feel watched, you know the moment has not escaped.

Joel is actually right behind you and can't help but clutch the beer you've brought in his hands, but then again, what did he expect after what he told you? It makes sense that you've moved on, but seeing it hurts. It hurts a lot.

The man observes that gesture, he can't help but remember when he kissed you, when you hugged him and how shyly you confessed your interest in him.

Will your boyfriend know? Will he know that you cared about him? But then Joel thinks that as your friend he should want the best for you and let you go.

The fireworks start, but his eyes are glazed over and he has to do everything to resist and show himself strong, Kyle wraps you in his arms, as you both watch the fireworks show. Joel feels like an idiot since he was the one who pushed you in that direction; when Joel looks down for a moment, you are watching him, but it is only for a moment, then you look back up at the sky.

FEBRUARY 2014

Joel follows you a few steps behind, not knowing why he thought back to July almost two years ago. You are with him, but you still don't remember anything of what you experienced together, nor of Kyle, nor of the fleeting time you were together, you’ve blocked everything out. Maybe it's better this way! At least you don't even remember the anger you felt towards him or what led to your breakup or why you rushed to that bar just for Tommy.

[pascalluvur]

Braidin’

Pairing: daddy!joel x f!reader

summary: You suck daddy’s cock while he braids your hair.

Warnings: smut, praise kink, daddy kink, cock sucking, throat fucking, hair pulling, a little bit of sex and a tiny bit of degradation.

pov: 3rd person

WC: 1.3k

The soft crackle of the fire filled the cozy cabin, gentle orange light casting flickering shadows across your face as you sat cross-legged in front of it, trying to braid your hair. Again.

Every time you finished and stood up to check in the mirror, it looked frizzy at the top or lopsided

-and you'd have to start over. By the fourth time, your patience was wearing thin. You were seconds from letting out a frustrated huff when Joel's voice, low and warm, rumbled behind you.

"C'mere, baby girl."

He was on the couch, legs spread comfortably, a book tossed aside beside him-long forgotten.

He hadn't been able to concentrate, too focused on you. And who could blame him? You were sitting in front of the fire in one of his flannels, barely buttoned, and a pair of panties that didn't do much to hide those pretty little holes he loved so much.

You chewed your bottom lip, trying not to smile.

Eventually, you gave in and stood, crossing to him before settling onto one of his thick thighs, back to him so he could reach your hair.

"Thanks, Daddy," you murmured wiggling against him to get comfortable.

One of his arms wrapped around your middle, hand splaying across your belly, giving you a slow squeeze. "So fuckin' cute when you're annoyed, baby. Sittin' over there in your little panties tryin' so hard to braid this pretty hair."

Both of his hands came up now, gently undoing the uneven plait you'd managed. His voice dropped an octave. "Got me thinkin' 'bout that pussy."

Your cheeks flushed at his vulgarity-words you should be used to by now-but your stomach still fluttered every time. That ache he always drew out of you, just from his voice, was already pulsing between your legs.

You turned to glance at him over your shoulder, then shifted so you were straddling his thigh, facing him. "

"...Really?"

One of his big hands cupped your cheek, thumb tracing along your cheekbone, then dragging across your bottom lip.

"Yeah, really, doll." His thumb tugged your lip down gently, exposing your mouth. "Got me thinkin' 'bout this mouth too."

You looked between his eyes, then leaned forward and took his thumb into your mouth, curling your tongue around it like you would his cock-slow and deliberate. Joel's jaw ticked, a low groan escaping as his eyes darkened.

He pulled his thumb out with a wet pop.

"Go on, baby," he rasped. "Get on your knees and suck this cock."

You slid off his thigh and dropped in front of him, the fire's heat warming your back, the scent of leather, cedar, and a hint of whiskey enveloping you in him. Your fingers moved automatically, undoing his belt, tugging his sweats and boxers down enough to free him.

He was already hard. Thick, flushed red at the tip, leaking precum like he was embarrassed about how bad he wanted you. No matter how many times you'd seen it, his cock still made your mouth water.

You wrapped a hand around the base, stroking slowly from root to tip, smearing those sticky beads of arousal over his head. Joel groaned deep and low, his hand drifting down to your hair.

And then-while you wrapped your lips around his cock—he started braiding your fucking hair.

That alone almost made you come.

You whimpered around him, eager and needy, taking him deeper, bobbing your head and stroking the base with your hand, desperate to please.

"Yeah... that's right. Dirty fuckin' girl," he groaned. "Gettin' off on Daddy's cock, huh?"

You moaned in response, throat tightening around him. Tears welled in your eyes from the stretch, but you didn't stop-couldn't stop. Joel's fingers wove through your hair as he worked a braid, tugging gently, and your hips rocked against the floor, chasing friction for your aching clit.

Joel chuckled, chest vibrating with it. "Fuckin' hell, baby. Mouth so warm... little throat squeezin' me so right... while I do your hair?

Fuuuck."

You pulled off with a gasp, still stroking him then ducked down to lick and suck at his heavy balls.

He dropped the hair tie he'd been holding, a strangled sound escaping his throat.

His fingers gripped your braid tight, wrapping it around his fist. His head dropped back against the couch cushion as a soft, broken whimper slipped from him.

"Yeah... yeah, suck my balls just like that, honey."

You moaned around them, drool spilling from the corners of your lips as you nuzzled deeper, hand still stroking his slick, twitching cock. He was close-you could feel it in the way he throbbed and pulsed in your palm.

The firelight caught along his flushed stomach, the trail of hair from his navel to his cock gleaming with sweat. You looked up—and nearly whined. His head was tipped back, chest heaving, jaw clenched tight, fist still gripping your braid like it was keeping him grounded.

"Baby... that mouth," he muttered. "So fuckin' pretty like that. Hair all done up, cock fillin' you up. You want Daddy to fuck that throat, baby?

"You pulled back, lips slick panting, your voice hoarse

"Please. Wanna be your good girl."

Joel leaned forward, both hands cradling your face. His thumbs brushed your damp cheeks.

"You are, baby. Always so fuckin' good for me.

Eager little thing, huh?"

You nodded frantically.

He sat back again, legs spread wide, cock flushed and ready. "Then open up, angel. Let Daddy fuck that pretty throat."

You crawled closer, heart pounding, tongue out, eyes wide.

Joel guided the head of his cock across your tongue, groaning at the sight.

"Gonna go deep now," he murmured. "You breathe through that nose, yeah? Be brave for Daddy."

You whimpered as he pushed in-inch by inch, slow and deliberate. Your jaw ached, your eyes watered, your throat tightening. "Always a stretch, huh?" he breathed. "But we get there, don't we?"

You couldn't nod. Could barely breathe. Just moaned around him as he started rocking gently into your mouth, guiding your pace with slow tugs on your braid.

Your hands clung to his thighs, nails digging into the soft cotton of his sweats. He was everywhere

-filling you, owning you. The stretch, the weight, the heat.

"Ffffuck," Joel growled. "Good girl. So tight. Just like that."

He was muttering now, half to himself. "My girl.

My sweet fuckin' angel. Mouth made for me.

Can't even finish your hair 'cause I'm too fuckin' gone."

You whimpered around him, arousal pooling between your thighs as he thrust a little deeper.

Your vision blurred.

He hissed, pulling out just far enough to let you breathe. "Up. Off your knees," he panted, gripping your hair. "Need to see this pussy."

He hauled you up and onto his lap, rough hands yanking the flannel off your body. Your panties were shoved aside, and before you could process anything, he was pushing into your dripping cunt.

The stretch made your head fall back.

His hands cupped your face as you whimpered.

"I know, baby girl. I know it's a lot. But Daddy needed his girl's pussy."

"S'full... D-Daddy... oh-"

"I know, baby. Gotta get you nice and messy." He kissed your cheek, his voice like gravel. "Look at that stretch. Openin' up so good for me. Let me just fuck this hole, honey."